by Nora Martin
“I didn’t walk away, Aunt Jana,” I said, trying to be honest. “I tried to sneak out the back door. I tried to get away without saying what I knew to be true and saving David and Dad from a lot of pain.”
“At first, perhaps, but I can see by the way you stand and look and hold your head that you will never sneak away from anything in the future. You will save more than just your family.”
Aunt Jana’s confidence in me made me feel stronger and more sure of myself.
“What’s the news about David?” she asked.
“Mom and Dad are meeting with the lawyers again this week.”
“And that preacher? What’s going to happen to him?”
“The police haven’t been able to find Lonn.”
“I’m not surprised,” Aunt Jana said.
“I told Dad that Lonn’s lying low, hiding out until the pressure is off. Maybe even getting ready to move and start over someplace new.”
“I don’t think anything serious is going to happen to this guy because of what he got you boys to do,” Aunt Jana said.
“Dad was really hurt when he realized Lonn was using him and us. He’s out job hunting right now.”
“I’m happy for your mom’s sake. It shows he’s got some gumption after all.”
“Wow,” I teased. “You said that about Dad?”
“Will you mention to your mom that I came by? I want her to know I’m here for her,” Aunt Jana said.
“She’ll be glad you came,” I said.
In the afternoon I drove into town to talk to Randy Mansfield about a job. He answered the door when I knocked. From the look on his face I could tell he knew all about the trouble with Lonn, so I just plunged in. “Everything that happened,” I stammered, “I’m really sorry for it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said.
I did hear honest relief in his voice. And he looked as if he wanted to hear my explanation. “I want to make up for what I’ve done, the trouble I caused in town. But I need to work. For money, that is.”
He looked like he understood. “I might be able to help in a month or so, when the summer building season gets going. Come talk to me then.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then I hesitated, trying to word the question that still clung to me. “The housing project. It is nonprofit, right?”
Randy looked confused. “Yes. Rents are subsidized to make them affordable and all the materials are donated or bought at cost. No one’s getting rich here.”
“Thanks, Randy,” I said. “I’ll still be working on that project whenever I can.”
“I’ll know where to find you, then, when I can offer a paying job, Ben.”
Next I filled out job applications with Barry’s Burgers and Wilson’s Yard Maintenance. After that I headed straight for the river.
The wind was cool but the sun was warm. I rolled down the window and let the new air wash over me. That’s the way the seasons change in Montana, from frigid to sweltering in thirty seconds flat. I pulled my cap down over my forehead so I could see the road without the sun glaring in my eyes. On the straightaway I hit seventy. As the truck sped up I could feel the guilt and anger steam off my body like old skin peeling away.
Along the river I parked the truck and, taking a water bottle, headed upstream. I followed the same trail Eden and I had used just a month earlier, when she found the spring violets. Now green grass was sprinkled with yellow glacier lilies and I could see the small stalks of other plants poking up through the damp earth.
The river water was gray with melting snow and it ran heavy. It covered some of the rocks where Eden had climbed and jumped. The image of her on that day was almost real in my mind.
Around the next corner was our picnic spot. As I approached I could see the feet of a person sitting near the rock. A brown paper bag was set nearby. Someone else had discovered our place, so I would have to find another. Keeping my eyes on the water as it skimmed past, I walked on.
“Ben?” I heard a surprised voice. I knew that sound so well. But still it made me jump.
“Eden? What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” she returned.
I was flustered and shifted my water bottle from hand to hand, trying to think of an answer that was believable. “Why didn’t you call me back? I’ve been needing to talk to you.”
“I couldn’t think of what to say. I didn’t know what my feelings were,” she said.
To me she seemed whole, the way I used to feel in my old life. What could I say to her? She had every right to want me gone. “Don’t go,” she told me, as if she knew my thoughts. I stepped closer to her.
“I’ve come here several times,” Eden admitted.
There was a sudden wondering in her voice that I could hear. It made a quiver start to grow deep inside me.
“Will you sit for a while?” she invited.
I lowered myself into the grass cross-legged. As I did she reached out and moved a stray bit of hair off my forehead. I couldn’t tell what she meant by this touch. Was it just the expression of an old and sorry friend? What I really wanted to do was to kiss her. Kiss her hard and long. I wanted to hold her next to me as if she were glued on. Instead, I started nervously picking at the sole of my shoe.
After sitting there in the uncomfortable silence Eden finally said, “Why didn’t you talk to me about this? If you had only explained what was going on . . .”
“Sure, tell you my brother and I got our kicks by harassing homosexuals and shooting up churches.”
“You don’t think I could have understood what you were struggling with?”
I knew now was the time to try to really open up with her. But still, saying these things didn’t come easily. “I didn’t understand myself. I wanted to tell you sooner. I wish I had.” I hated how shaky my voice sounded.
“Me too,” Eden said. “It hurt me that you weren’t up-front with me.”
The sound and smell of the water pressed against me. Small breezes rose off the moving river. I tried to let its movement ease my thoughts.
“What are you going to do now?” Eden asked. “Pound one nail at a time,” I answered.
She looked confused, so I explained. “You know, one step at a time. Stay with my folks and help them as much as I can. Go to school. Get a job. Try to find ways to mend what I’ve broken.”
“What about college?” Eden introduced a subject I hadn’t even thought about.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“If you want something—” Eden started.
“That’s easy for you to say,” I interrupted. “Just like your driving. You plow straight through the drifts to wherever you want to go. If you get stuck, someone is there to help you.”
“I guess it is easier for me in a lot of ways,” Eden said. “But I don’t think you should be afraid of dreaming.”
I thought how cloudy my future seemed. It was hard to think past the next week, let alone the next year. I needed to stick with Jason’s advice: one step at a time.
Eden ran her hand over the grass thoughtfully. “I keep remembering the way you looked the day you rescued me on Mason Road. I had never seen anyone so confident and capable. You knew what the right thing to do was and you glowed with that feeling. That’s the real Ben, the hero. But somewhere you lost him.”
“I did,” I admitted.
Eden got to her knees, so her face was even with mine.
I reached out my hand and cupped the back of her head, drawing her close. I kissed her, knowing every hopeful word she said was a gift.
When we parted she sighed and looked at the rocky hills beyond the river. “I’m not ready for this, Ben. I’m not sure.”
“Sure of what?” I asked, but I knew what her answer was going to be.
“You.”
I remembered the first time I had ever kissed Eden, in the movie theater. Ever since then I knew she was somehow part of what felt right. “I’ll never stop proving myself to you,” I said.
> Eden took my hand, smiling at me with all the warmth of hope. I felt what she meant. It was as if the river suddenly stopped, then turned and began flowing in the opposite direction.
“Jason was right,” I told Eden. “He said if I took one right step, the next would become clear.”
“Jason?” Eden asked. “Jason never-grow-up Johnson said that?”
“He did,” I confirmed.
Eden folded herself into my embrace.
“I kind of miss all that snow,” Eden said.
“You do?” I tried not to smile but reached behind to the shadowed side of the rock and grabbed a slushy handful of the stuff.
Eden saw me and snatched it, forming it into a ball. “Perfect snow.” She looked at me slyly.
“Oh, no!” I scrambled to my feet.
But before I could get away, Eden pulled out the neck of my T-shirt and dropped the snowball in.
I pulled the shirt away from my stomach, yelling at the cold shock. I turned to throw the snow back at her. Eden went laughing down the trail, collecting more slush balls as she went. I followed, stopping only every now and then to duck.
Copyright © 2002 by Nora Martin
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages
First published in the United States of America in August 2002
by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
www.bloomsbury.com
E-book edition published in August 2013
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Martin, Nora. A perfect snow / Nora Martin. p. cm.
Summary: Seventeen-year-old-Ben must deal with a violent white-supremacy hate group in his small Montana town because his father and his friends are involved with it.
[1. Right-wing extremists—Fiction. 2. White supremacy movements—Fiction. 3. Prejudices—Fiction.
4. Montana—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7 M364155 Pe 2002 [fic]—dc21 2001052577
ISBN: 978-1-6196-3077-2 (e-book)