By Proxy (27 page)

For the first time since he left, she didn’t cry as she sorted through their memories. She still wasn’t sure of herself, but at least her eyes weren’t burning with tears on cue. She thought of Maggie’s words. Why wouldn’t she just go to Chicago? Why couldn’t she just go? Was it because she was scared? She swallowed as she evaluated these questions and realized Maggie’s words held truth. While she was here in Great Falls her mother had succumbed to cancer. Lord only knows what could happen if she went as far as Chicago.

Even as she articulated these thoughts to herself, she knew they didn’t really make sense. Staying in Gardiner wasn’t going to prevent her father or the boys from getting sick or hurt. Sam said Gardiner was where she went to “hide her head in the sand” and “give up.” She frowned, walking even more briskly.

How come his words about giving up and selling out haunted her so much? Had she given up? Had she sold out? Her mother had hidden her illness from Jenny specifically so she would stay in Great Falls and make a life for herself there, but in the end she’d turned her back on that life.

Suddenly, Jenny saw the whole picture and she gasped in realization, stopping in her tracks:
Sam and Maggie are right.
I
went
home to care for Mamma, but I
stayed
home out of fear.
She had given up on her dreams of a life in Great Falls. Grudgingly, Jenny realized Maggie was right about something else, too: Jenny was holding on to her brothers and father too tightly even now. She was scared to leave.

So, was that the real reason she didn’t go to Chicago with Sam? Fear of leaving her family? She started walking again, still processing her feelings.

“No!” she exclaimed aloud. She bristled against the insinuation that fear was totally immobilizing her. She bristled against the weakness of it.
Family is important, for heaven’s sake!
And besides, she had a life in Gardiner: her job, her church, her apartment, her friends.

However, the shift in her clarity made her justifications feel like excuses. The weakness she so resented became blaring in her growing self-awareness:
You could have left your job, your church, your apartment and your friends, Jenny. You could have left them all behind for Sam.

Then she pictured the faces of her father and brothers in her mind, and like a punch in the gut, she felt the strength of her fear. She furrowed her brow, walking so fast now the cold air burned her lungs and her hands sweated in her mittens, even though it was only twenty-three degrees.

I’m not weak! I’m not the sort of person who lets fear hold dominion over her life!

A small, soft voice in her head answered back,
But you did. You pushed him away because you were scared to leave Gardiner.

But staying in Gardiner kept her heart safe, didn’t it? Being close to her brothers and father meant she wouldn’t experience the sort of heartbreak that had accompanied her mother’s death.

Except, if that was true, how come every day away from Sam broke her heart a little more? The campus blurred and swam before her as tears flooded her eyes. Could the very choice she’d made to protect herself cause the worst heartache of all?

She turned into the small campus, walking the familiar paths without enjoying them at all, lost in her thoughts. She brushed some snow off a bench with her mittened hand and sipped the last bit of her now-cold latte. She took off her mitten and wiped a droplet from her lip with her bare finger and let her finger linger there for a moment, remembering the possessive hunger in the kiss they had shared after the vows. He had held her flush to his body, unyielding, demanding, and even in the desperation of the moment, she couldn’t deny how perfectly they’d fit together.

Always eclipsed by that kiss, however—in both intensity then and pain now—would be his eyes during the vows. Those eyes haunted her even now, the memory of which was at the crux of what made it unbearable to be away from him. His eyes had carried her through the vows they took for Ingrid and Kristian. She had never felt so intimately connected to another person in her entire life. He had carried her, held her, sustained her, reassured her, encouraged her—all without a word, without a touch, without anything except the power of the feelings behind his eyes.

Her shoulders rolled forward and she crumpled with her chin to her chest, defeated. A searing, certain sadness confirmed without a shadow of doubt that she had made a mistake. In letting Sam go, she had allowed fear to choose her path for her, and she knew with a brutal, heart-wrenching certainty that losing him would be the biggest mistake of her life.

Oh, my God! Help! Help me figure out what to do. Help me have the courage to do it. And please don’t let it be too late when I’m ready.

She put her mitten back on and hugged herself. Her spirits lifted with a new, growing patch of peace in her heart which reinforced she was on the right path to figuring this out.
No more crying now, Jenny. Go home. Have Christmas. Figure out what to do, and do it.
She got up and started walking back out of the campus, down the path she had already walked, back toward her hotel.

***

“Children, please listen. Please quiet down. I shouldn’t have to say that more than once. Please.” Jenny clasped her hands together, a forced, cheerful smile animating her tired face. “That was a very good dress rehearsal. You should feel very proud of yourselves. I certainly am. Give yourselves a hand.”

The students clapped and high-fived each other, gathered around Jenny in the cafeteria which would serve as an auditorium tomorrow night.

“Freshmen, please remember, black pants and white tops. Sophomores, black pants and red or green tops. If anyone needs to borrow something, please see me before you go tonight and we’ll figure it out.

“Sarah, Mr. Ashby wants you to stay after to practice that solo one last time.

“Senior girls, please stop by my classroom tomorrow after third period. We need to figure out once and for all if it’ll be ‘The Christmas Canon’ or ‘The Peace Carol’ for your encore. We simply don’t have time for both. And you need to decide what you’re wearing by tomorrow. I see you rolling your eyes, Amanda. Let’s be respectful please, miss.

“Thank you, everyone, for your efforts and for staying late tonight. Please work on those ‘Silent Night’ verses for our big finale, okay? I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

She barely noticed the hum of conversations and giggles as the children shrugged into their coats, faces merry with Christmas cheer. Jenny turned back to the table where she had music and notes in an unruly pile. She sorted the papers into a neat stack, placing them in a folder labeled “Christmas Concert.” She turned and waved good-bye to the last teenagers walking out the door of the cafeteria, leaving the room peaceful and quiet after the two-hour-long dress rehearsal with so many active adolescents to corral.

Exhausted, she sat down in the folding chair at the table, rubbing her pounding temples with her fingers and closing her eyes. Trying to stay busy and distracted was sapping whatever strength she had, and she fell into bed at night like an old lady.

Out of nowhere, she saw Sam’s face in her mind that morning at church.
Morning, Pretty Girl
…She clenched her eyes tightly against the tears beginning to prickle.
No more crying, Jenny. You promised.

She crossed her arms over her chest, hands holding opposite arms. She breathed deeply in and out, taking her time, finding her mother’s face in her mind and focusing on it. She kept her eyes tightly closed, as in prayer or meditation.
Noen elsket meg en gang. Someone loved me once.
But the image of her mother’s face faded like a watercolor to be replaced in sharp detail with Sam’s, and she saw his eyes—warm and brown, intense and tender—holding hers as he whispered Kristian’s vows, almost as though he was saying the words directly to her. The memory made fresh tears brighten her eyes and she pressed them tightly closed, trying to hold on.

I miss him. God, I miss him so much.

The pull to be with him—to go to him, if that’s what it would take—was getting stronger and surer with every passing day.

“Jenny?”

She lowered her hands and opened her eyes slowly, remembering where she was. It took her a second to focus on Paul’s face in the dim light of the empty cafeteria. He was squatting down next to her, and Lord only knew how long he’d been there. He looked up at her, regarding her seriously.

She mustered a slight smile. “Hey, Paul.”

“Are you okay, Jen?”

She nodded her head, offering him a sad smile. “I’m okay.”

He took a deep breath and sighed, tilting his head to the side, assessing her with worried eyes. “It’s been almost three weeks since I really saw you smile. I’m concerned about you.”

She tried for a heartier smile, shaking her head. “No. No. You don’t need to be. I’m fine, Paul. Really, I am. Just so busy lately with the concert and the pageant at church. I’m just a little tired.”

“I stopped in for the last few minutes of the rehearsal. It looked amazing.”

“Yeah. I think it’s really good.”

“Best Christmas concert we’ve ever had, Jen. Thanks to you.” He said this gently and reached over to cover her hand with his. She pulled hers away almost instantly, folding them together in her lap.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment then looked down, nodding. “Jenny, I know I made things awkward between us, but more than anything I care about you and I want to be here for you. You know, I used to be a guidance counselor before I took this job as principal. I’m a good listener. Whatever you need.”

I need Sam.

Her eyes brightened with tears, touched by his kindness. She knew his feelings for her were deeper than friendship, but he was setting them aside because he cared for her. “I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Jenny, everything new gets old. It will fade. Eventually. I promise.”

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down at her folded hands. Paul’s words, meant to comfort her, did just the opposite. She winced as her heart ached at the future Paul outlined for her. She didn’t want her feelings for Sam to get old. She didn’t want for them to fade.

The days were dwindling down. School break would start the day after tomorrow. Then Christmas. Then…Well, she was still figuring out what her next move would be, but she was getting there. In the meantime, she simply missed him.

She whispered, “‘His absence is like the sky, spread over everything.’”

“C.S. Lewis?”

She looked up at him, giving him a tired grin. “The very one.”

“I hate to see you like this.” He stared at her intently then breathed deeply, standing up and changing the subject. “It’s dinnertime. Let me take you out for dinner.”

She raised her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side with a meaningful look. “No, Paul. I don’t think that’s such a good—”

He put up his palms face out, interrupting her. “Work colleague. Guidance counselor. Good listener. Family friend. Nothing else. I promise.”

Jenny sighed, nodding warily. “Okay. Dinner. Let me go freshen up.”

***

It wasn’t Paul’s fault. It wasn’t him. It’s just Jenny didn’t want much to be around anyone—anyone who wasn’t Sam—and taking her to the Grizzly Guzzle Grill, where she and Sam had dined before the Christmas tree lighting, didn’t help either. When Paul pulled into the parking lot, Jenny almost said something but decided it wasn’t worth it to leave and go somewhere else.

Lars waved as they walked in, raising his eyebrows in surprise to see his best friend with his sister, and for the second time in three weeks, two Cokes appeared at their table after they sat down.

“I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Paul smiled at Jenny over his menu.

“Thank you.” Jenny nodded politely. “Unfortunately I think we’re giving Lars something to talk about.”

“Nah. He knows we’re just friends.”

They sat in silence for another minute, each deciding what they would have. Finally Jenny put down her menu and Paul put his on top of hers.

“Jen, I’m sorry you’re so down. He had no right to lead you on.”

Jenny looked at Paul’s handsome face, his coloring so much like her own. His eyes were earnest and worried.
It would be so much easier if I could just love you, Paul.

“He didn’t lead me on. He didn’t make any promises he didn’t keep. He
asked
me to come to Chicago.”

“You said no?”

“I did.” Jenny took a sip of her pop.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, staring at Jenny in surprise. He shook his head back and forth in confusion. “Then I don’t understand, Jenny. You seem so sad.”

“I am sad. I don’t want to be in Chicago. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with Sam.” Jenny sighed, watching her finger make circular motions in front of her on the table. “His life is there.”

“And yours is here.”

She nodded slowly, resigned. “My family is here.”

They placed their order and Paul talked animatedly about Upper Slide and the first few weeks of ice fishing. Jenny generally made it out there with the boys once or twice during the season but knew there was a whole community of folks who spent every available moment up at the lake all season. It was composed of some very colorful characters. Listening to Paul, Jenny smiled a few times and even chuckled once.

“There it is!” Paul exclaimed in triumph, smiling back at her. “A Jenny giggle.”

She looked down and sipped her drink. “Well, you accomplished the impossible, Paul. You should be very proud.”

“Jenny, if you’d let me—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, wincing at the tenderness in his tone. “You promised.”

Her expression closed instantly and any momentary cheer was quickly extinguished as they returned to awkward silence, relieved when dinner finally arrived. She thought about the dinner she and Sam had shared at this very table a few weeks before. He had blundered his words, telling her he wanted to have children with her someday. She’d been so shocked, and he’d looked so appalled at the slip. She sank into the memory for a moment, smiling absently.