By Proxy (6 page)

When he looked back up she gestured to his iPad, probably anxious to change the subject.

“Maybe we could write those e-mails while we wait?” she asked.

Tess returned with their drinks and although Jenny’s icy expression didn’t invite further conversation, she winked boldly at Sam before sauntering away. He just nodded curtly in thanks.
No point in ruffling Jenny’s feathers.

“Sure. What should we say?”

She sipped her Coke and considered, drawing concentric circles with her finger on the table. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and his eyes followed it across her shoulder to where it ended right above her right breast. His eyes lingered there, distracted, until her voice jolted him back to their conversation.

“We don’t have to tell them it was your fault. We could maybe tell a little white lie”—her face colored—“and say Judge Hanlon left early for the park. Sun sets early now, so he’d have to leave mid-afternoon to have a few good hours. And I wouldn’t want them to be mad at you.”

He looked up at her pretty face, those big blue eyes wide with a mixture of chagrin and compassion.
There you go surprising me, Jenny Lindstrom.
She certainly didn’t owe him anything. His late arrival at the courthouse had upset her and inconvenienced her life. Heck, if he hadn’t been late, it would have been lighter on the drive home, and she wouldn’t have hit the black ice patch. Her kindness touched him. She looked down, no doubt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and he watched her draw circles on the table with the pad of her finger before impulsively locking his index finger around hers, forming a link. He rubbed his thumb lightly over it.

“Thanks, Jen.”

Jenny looked up, her face flushing darker as she met his gaze. She wet her lips with her tongue, and Sam felt a small jolt of awareness pass through him, watching her, wondering what it would be like to—

She straightened her finger to draw it back gently from his. “Maybe I like you better teasing than serious…”

He chuckled to cover up the direction of his thoughts, taking a long sip of beer. “Does that mean I don’t have to watch myself? Teasing is okay now?”

She smiled back at him easily and shook her head. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you. A deal’s a deal.”

“Such moral high ground from the person suggesting white lies!”

“Are you teasing me?” she demanded playfully.

“Just an observation.”
Huh. She could be pretty fun when she wasn’t being so prickly. Smart. Quick.
Before he found himself roped into washing her car or walking her dog, he decided they should get going on that e-mail. “Okay. We’ll say Judge Hanlon left early for ‘Yeller’ and I was running a little late. The two circumstances left us without an option, and we’re headed back on Monday to get married instead.”

“To get
them
married instead.”

“Of course. That’s what I meant.” He took out his iPad and pressed the “on” button but nothing happened. He pressed it again and then it dawned on him. He had tried to use it to map himself an alternate route from Bozeman to Livingston while behind the snowplow and must have forgotten to turn off the roaming signal. The battery had died sometime during the afternoon. “Shoot!”

“Oh, no! Dead battery?”

He shook his head back and forth.
Could he get
nothing
right around this woman? He perpetually looked like an unprepared student! It was maddening.

She smiled and shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll just send them an e-mail from my laptop after dinner.”

Sam mulled this over in his mind. Of course he trusted Jenny to send something completely appropriate, but as he checked her out across the table he realized he didn’t want their evening to end so soon. “Mind if I come along and we write it together?”

“Don’t trust me?” She asked crisply, her owl eyes widening to capture his.

“No, it’s just—”

“It’s fine!” She put her palms up and turned her face away from him in a huff, muttering, “Big-city ways.”

Okay. If that’s what it takes, go ahead and believe that
. But he was sorry their playful mood had taken a little dive. He thought about telling her the truth, that he didn’t want to go back to his cold, dumpy hotel room when he could possibly spend some time with her in what he was sure would be a warm, homey apartment. He pictured somewhere cozy and bright with—

Wait a minute, brother! What’s going on with you? She’s a prickly little schoolteacher from a tiny town in Montana! Why exactly are you plotting ways to spend more time with her? Are you interested in her, Sam?

She was looking around the bar with that pinched expression back on her face.
Interested in
her
? No! No way! She’s just the only amusement in a one-horse town. And we need to write that e-mail. That’s all. Interested? Please. No way.

Tess returned with their pizza and licked her lips at Sam, her tongue lingering on the corner of her mouth. She sure was trying hard, but she simply wasn’t his type. “Enjoy, sugar.”

Jenny stared at Tess humorlessly until she turned and strutted away, then she helped herself to a slice while he did the same.

“So, you grew up with Ingrid?”

She nodded. “Ing’s family moved here from Wyoming when she was a baby. I don’t ever remember a day of my life without Ingrid in it. We were in the church nursery together, pre-school. I was homeschooled, but she always told me about the goings-on at public school: which boy liked which girl, anyone who got in trouble…” She chuckled lightly. “Even if it was Ing.”

“You were homeschooled?”

“Me and Erik, my youngest brother. Well, not
the
youngest.
I’m
the baby, but he’s the youngest of my three older brothers.”

His eyes shot up to her face. The younger sister of three brothers? No wonder she had such a strong backbone. He could only imagine!

“Cheers to you, Jenny.” He raised his beer to her and took a big gulp. Her disapproving glance at his glass was not lost on him. “You’re a teetotaler?”

She tilted her head to the side, considering his question. “It’s just not for me.”

“Religious reasons?”

“My church is important to me, yes. But, it’s not forbidden or anything. Really, it seems like liquor just causes problems.”

“If you drink to excess.”

“Which so many do.”

He furrowed his brows, taken aback by her commentary, bristling a little from her remark. “Huh. Well,
I
just enjoy a glass now and then.”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Men will have their vices.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just something my mother used to say. ‘A woman chops and dices, still a man will have his vices.’” She repeated this in a singsong voice, then shrugged uneasily and made a face, looking down sheepishly.

Sam thought for a minute and then looked at her, perplexed. “You got me. I have no idea what that means.”

Jenny looked up, meeting his eyes, and hers were twinkling with amusement. She burst into giggles. “Nor do I! She always said it, and I never understood it! But, I didn’t want her to think I didn’t get it!”

Her face was transformed by her merriment and he chuckled, leaning toward her. “Is it like…a woman cooks while a man carouses?”

“Or a woman criticizes while a man indulges?”

“Or a woman works so hard making dinner and then a man doesn’t show up for it?”

“Or a woman threatens the man with violence, but he drinks anyway?”

Jenny was snorting quietly between giggles. “S-Stop. Please. I’m going to ch-choke.”

Sam sat back and watched her, his cheeks starting to ache from smiling so much. He pushed her Coke closer to her, and she took a big sip then wiped her eyes with her napkin.

“People are always saying things like that around here. Half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

He shook his head at her. “Why don’t you ask?”

“I don’t know! No, I can’t! I mean, I grew up here. I’m supposed to know what these things mean. Heck, I’ve even
used
that expression before and other women have nodded at me like I’m very wise.” This confession made her start giggling again and she looked down at the table, shoulders trembling, trying to compose herself, but Sam heard tiny snorting sounds and knew she was losing the battle.

Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched her. He couldn’t quite figure her out. She seemed kind of stuck-up sometimes, but someone who was truly haughty wouldn’t be able to laugh at herself like this. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dinner with a woman who just laughed—really
laughed
with genuine amusement—at something funny and self-deprecating. He couldn’t imagine Pepper laughing at anything until tears slipped out of her eyes. Her eyes were always perfectly made up; she wouldn’t dare mess them up with a stray tear. Well, maybe for a photo op, but not because she found something funny. Anyway, Pepper didn’t find things funny; she found them amusing. She took life—her life, especially—so seriously. Laughing at herself would be unthinkable.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” She sniffled and chortled once more, still trying to compose herself. Her eyes were bright and shiny and still full of mirth and he knew she was on the verge of giggling again, just holding herself back. “You must think I’m crazy.”

Actually, I think that under those prickles you’re completely genuine and absolutely adorable.

“Nah, it’s okay.” He leaned back in his seat, watching her until she sobered under his perusal. “It’s nice to hear someone really laugh.”

“Oh, I love a good laugh. Your friends don’t laugh?”

He considered this. Yes, they laughed: at a well-constructed barb at someone else’s expense, the shared delight in someone else’s misfortune, or a droll observation with a sophisticated, witty delivery. They laughed. But it was different. It was night and day from Jenny’s good-natured giggling.

He shrugged noncommittally, turning his attention back to the pizza.

“It’s good, right?” She smiled at him shyly, biting into her third piece.

“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at her, wondering what she’d be like if she let herself loosen up even more. “It sure is.”

***

It only took fifteen minutes to walk home from the restaurant, but Jenny pointed out various Gardiner points of interest on the way: the restaurant where one of her brothers worked, the road that led across the river to the Roosevelt Arch and the high school where she worked. They walked over to the bridge and she paused, holding on to the railing, looking up at the sky.

“I love Montana,” he whispered.

“You
do
?”

“You never see this many stars in Chicago. Never see this many stars anywhere.”

“When I see a sky like tonight, I always think of early ship navigators, you know? Looking at the sky, trying to figure out where they were headed.” She leaned her elbows on the railing, putting her hood up, grateful for the thick down between her arms and the icy, cold iron. “It must have taken such courage, such faith to set sail, relying only on the stars to see them home.” She smiled at him and turned her glance back up to the sky, pointing. “There’s the North Star. Polaris. See it? The brightest one that way. If you can find that, you can always find your way.”

“Always find my way, huh? Even in snowy mountain passes, stuck behind a pokey plow?”

“Ah, so that’s what happened today.” She glanced at him and grinned, then turned her attention back to the sky. “Uh-huh. It’s a fixed point. If you prefer Shakespeare, it’s an ‘ever-fixed mark.’ It doesn’t move. It doesn’t change. If you can find north, you can find your way.”

“Shakespeare?”

“It’s from one of his sonnets.”

“Go ahead…” His smile encouraged her.

She chuckled nervously and shook her head, but spoke the words quietly, staring out at the black river before her. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O, no. It is an ever-fixed mark.”

He joined her at the railing, leaning beside her. “So I’m guessing you teach English.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Science.”

When he chuckled she gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“Suits you.”

“Are you laughing at me? Teasing me?”

“No! Not at all! Just…stars, navigation… You threw me with the Shakespeare. I had figured science, but then…” He looked back up at the sky. “Sure is pretty.”

“The sky or the Shakespeare?”

“Both. Either.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “I can’t remember the last time someone quoted Shakespeare to me. ‘An ever-fixed mark…’”

“Well, maybe there’s a frustrated English teacher in here after all.” She touched her heart with her hand and grinned at him. “Or maybe just cold winters. Lots of time for reading.”

“Reading. Hmm. I can think of better—” He cleared his throat. If she didn’t know better, she might wonder if he covered a chuckle by clearing his throat. She could hear the controlled humor in his voice when he asked, “And science?”

“Always loved it. I spent a lot of time in the park growing up, and my Pappa was always teaching us something about the hot springs, the geography, the animals. Natural fit, I guess, being from here.”

He looked back up at the sky. “There’s nowhere like here.”

She turned to him, cocking her head to the side and searching his face. “I didn’t realize you had such an affection, you know, for here. For Montana. I just assumed—”

He blew into his bare hands, then rubbed them together and stuffed them in his coat pockets. “Sure. I mean, I live in Chicago and my life’s there, but I love it here, too. I wasn’t clear before. We drove out to Choteau twice a year like clockwork until I started college. Spent a lot of time in Montana as a kid. My mom and Kristian’s mom are sisters and they didn’t think a twenty-four hour drive was reason enough to keep them apart.

“My Aunt Lisabet and her family drove out to Chicago for Thanksgiving and Easter. And we spent New Year’s and
Midsommardagen
in Montana for a week each every year. Never missed either my entire childhood. No excuse was good enough for my mother, you know? I may not have always loved the drive, but I always loved being here.”