The Winter Lodge (26 page)

“I know we’re young,” he whispered. “But I know what I want, and I know we can make it work. In twenty-four months, I’ll be done with this enlistment. We’ll live right here in Avalon and I can commute to the state college. You’ll never have to leave your grandmother.”

At that, Jenny couldn’t help smiling. “Gram loves you. When she hears that, she’ll declare you a candidate for sainthood.”

“I’m no saint. If she was the Wicked Witch of the West, I’d still love her because she’s your grandmother.” With that, he slipped the ring on her finger. “Look at that,” he said. “It’s a perfect fit.”

She gazed down at her hand, at the glint of the diamond. “It is,” she agreed. “Perfect. But two years is a long time—”

“I’ve loved you for longer than that,” he said. “Two years is nothing. This decision is not something that came out of the blue. I’ve thought about being with you forever.”

“I haven’t,” she confessed.

“I know.” He pulled her close, his chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith. I’m asking you to trust that I love you, that this will work.”

“First boarding call,” came a tinny-sounding voice through the speakers mounted outside the station. “This is your first boarding call for the southbound express.”

Jenny shut her eyes, picturing herself on the brink of a dark chasm, teetering, about to make that leap of faith. Against her will, she thought of Rourke. Well, of course she thought of Rourke, because he was the one person who could have made a difference in this moment. If he’

d just said something, given her any kind of sign that he had feelings for her, that would have changed everything. But ever since the night of the fireworks, he’d kept his distance. He’d even seemed to go out of his way to make sure she saw how many girls he dated. That, she knew, was the sign she was looking for. It wasn’t the one she wanted to see, but he was telling her, loud and clear, her place in the pecking order.

Joey held her face between his hands and must have spotted the gleam of tears in her eyes. “It’ll be all right,” he said, misreading the tears. “I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll live here and take care of your gram for as long as she needs us, I swear it.”

She didn’t know how to answer him. He had such gentle eyes, such a sweet nature. And most important of all, he would never, ever break her heart. He was perfect for her—loyal and affectionate and dedicated.

“Final boarding call,” came the canned voice. “This is your final boarding call for the southbound express.”

“I need to go,” Joey said. He took her left hand and placed a kiss on her palm, then closed her fingers around it. “I’ll call you every chance I get. I’ll write you every day.”

“Good luck,” she said, fighting tears. “Keep yourself safe.”

“I will.”

“Promise me. I swear, Joey, be safe, no matter what.”

“Of course.”

A whistle sounded. He bent and kissed her, then grabbed his bag and ran along the walkway and through the waiting room. She could see him emerge on the other side of the wrought-iron bars of the platform. He stepped up to a passenger car, turned to give her a last wave. A cloud of dust from the tracks swept across the platform, shrouding him in translucence as the train pulled away.

Jenny simply stood there in the park in front of the station, staring at the empty space where the train had been. The air smelled hot and cindery, and sounds were oddly muted—the traffic, the voices of people passing by. At some point, she sat down on the park bench. With her left thumb, she touched the hard circle of Joey’s ring.
What have I done?
she asked herself again and again.
What have I done?

She lost all track of time. It might have been minutes or even hours later. Afternoon shadows slipped over her. In the clock tower of the town hall, a bell sounded. Finally she got up and wiped her hands on her skirt. She’d best get home. Gram would worry.

But Gram didn’t seem worried. She was waiting, her soft white hair freshly done by the visiting nurse who looked after her each day. She was watching
Oprah,
but when Jenny came through the door, she turned off the TV.

Jenny sat down across from her, still feeling a bit stunned. She held out her hand with the ring on it. “Joey gave me this. He wants to get married.”

“Yes,” Gram said. “I know. He asked me.” Gram’s smile was crooked, a side effect of the stroke, but her eyes shone with happiness. “It is such a blessing. I have always wanted you to find someone who looks at you and sees what I see. He will make you happy.”

“I’m afraid,” Jenny said. “I’m not sure I love him in a marrying way.” She had dreams.

Aspirations. She didn’t know if any of them were enhanced by this engagement. “I didn’t say yes.”

“You took the ring.”

“Oh, Gram.”

“Joey is a good man. He is like us, not like a rich boy who is careless with your heart.”

“I want to make sure I’m not being careless with him,” Jenny said. She felt weighed down by the awesome responsibility of making another person happy, sharing her life with him. She had no idea if she could do that. Joey thought she could, though. He believed in her.

When Rourke pulled up in front of Jenny’s house, he saw her on the front porch, writing longhand in a spiral-bound notebook. She worked with such deep concentration that she didn’t seem to notice him as he parked at a bad angle along the curb and jumped out, leaving the door ajar.

She looked up and saw him and for a split second he was sure he saw unguarded pleasure in her eyes. Then she slapped her writing book shut and stood up. “Rourke, is something wrong?” she asked.

He stood at the bottom of the porch steps and looked at her, and the tightness in his chest finally unfurled. Her question was ironic because something had been wrong all summer, and he’d finally figured out how to make it right. It was so simple, really. He was in love with this beautiful brown-eyed girl, whom he’d known since they were kids. Sure, it was complicated, since she’d been going out with Joey, but that was over now. Joey had left on the morning train.

Rourke had put himself through hell, trying to convince himself that what he felt for her wasn’t love. He was done with all that. He joined her on the front porch and took her hand. “I came to talk to you about something,” he said. He voice sounded too low and rough. He cleared his throat. “It’s kind of important.” And God, he hoped it was to her, too. “I wanted to tell you that I’m—”

A train whistle sounded, drowning out his next words. At the end of the street, red lights flashed as the gates started to close. A car heading toward town sped up, clearly attempting to get across the tracks before the train arrived. Rourke tensed as the gates lowered, nearly crashing onto the hood of the car. Idiot, thought Rourke. His hurry could have gotten him killed.

The moment passed and he looked back at Jenny. “Sorry. What I meant to say was—”

“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” she said, very gently extracting her hand from his.

Only when she took back her hand did Rourke realize that her fingers had been icy cold

—on one of the hottest days of the year. She swallowed, wincing as though the effort pained her.

Her eyes shone brightly with tears. “Joey left a while ago.”

Rourke nodded. He’d said his goodbyes the previous night. Things had been strained between him and Joey this summer, but they’d been best friends all their lives. Rourke had to believe that meant something. He hoped like hell it meant Joey would forgive him for making a play for his girl.

“Maybe he already told you…” Jenny was saying.

“Told me what?”

“He and I…he asked me to marry him.”

Right, Rourke thought. Just perfect. This had to be some cosmic joke.

She twisted the slender band of the ring around and around her finger. “Anyway, I thought…” Her voice trailed off into a wisp of uncertainty.

She really wasn’t joking. Rourke forced himself to focus on what she was saying. She was going to marry Joey. She was going to be his best friend’s wife. He turned himself to stone because he didn’t want to feel anything—not hurt, not disappointment, not rage. “That’s good,”

he said evenly. “Congratulations.”

She nodded, her eyes still swimming. “Thanks. Um, you said you needed to talk about something?”

He gave a little laugh then, thinking, thank God. Thank God he hadn’t said what he’d come here to say. It was the only thing he could think of that would make this moment worse.

Food for Thought

by Jenny Majesky

Bittersweet Dreams

Eileen has been a bakery regular for years, and she loves chocolate more than any other customer we know. Chocolate has magical properties when prepared correctly. It’s an appropriate ingredient for days when it feels as though the whole world is against you, or on the anniversary of a sad event, because it tends to enhance one’s mood. The addition of a hint of liqueur brings out some of chocolate’s finest nuances. Frangelico is a good choice. Made in Italy with roasted hazelnuts and bottled in a container that will remind you of Mrs. Butterworth’s, it won’t overwhelm the other flavors.

The cocoa content of chocolate matters; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The very best taste comes from chocolate with a cocoa content of 70 percent or more. Also, avoid anything with an ingredient called “vanillin,” a chemical substitute for real vanilla. Possibly most important of all, choose chocolate that uses cocoa butter. Interestingly, it melts at 93°F, which is close to body temperature. This, I think, is no coincidence.

EILEEN’S BITTER CHOCOLATE CAKE

Sugar for dusting pan

2 sticks unsalted butter

6 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped

3 ounces unsweetened, strong, dark chocolate, chopped

1-1/4 cups sugar

4 extra-large eggs

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Lightly sweetened whipped cream

1 tablespoon Frangelico liqueur

toasted chopped hazelnuts

Preheat oven to 325°F. Butter a 9 inch-diameter springform pan. Sprinkle bottom and sides with sugar. Wrap foil around bottom and 2 inches up outside of pan.

Combine butter and both chocolates in a glass bowl and melt in microwave, stirring until smooth.

Whisk sugar and eggs together. Mix in flour. Stir in warm chocolate mixture. Pour batter into prepared pan. Place cake in large baking pan. Pour enough boiling water into baking pan to come 1/2 inch up sides of cake. Bake cake until top is firm and toothpick inserted into center comes out with some moist crumbs attached, about 1 hour.

Remove cake from water and cool completely on rack. Transfer cake to platter, release pan sides. Add Frangelico to the whipped cream. Garnish each slice with whipped cream and a sprinkle of hazelnuts.

Eighteen

“Y
ou’re making a big mistake,” Rourke said. “You’re running away instead of sticking around and figuring things out.”

Jenny didn’t let herself look at him as she moved around the bedroom, packing her only bag. “Figuring what out?” she asked, discomfited by the way he was watching her. “Us?”

He didn’t answer; she didn’t expect him to. Nor did she want to pursue the issue. It was one thing to fantasize about Rourke—that wasn’t a stretch. But when she’d begun to imagine that this was her life, she realized that the time had come for her to move on from this place. There wasn’t much to pack, of course, which she found strangely satisfying. “I’ve been here long enough, anyway.”

“Long enough for what?” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles and folding his arms.

She wondered if he missed sleeping in his own bed, but she would never ask him. “For me to get over the initial upheaval, to tie up loose ends.” She picked up a shirt and tossed it haphazardly into the suitcase. “At least it’s nice to know I was never that attached to my clothes.

I hardly miss anything.” She shook out her new flannel pajama bottoms and then wadded them up.

“What do you miss?”

“Exactly what you’d expect—my journals, the stuff on my hard drive. One-of-a-kind photographs and mementos. Little things that belonged to my grandparents. This is not a mistake, Rourke. I have to move on with my life.”

He picked up the suitcase. “In that case, don’t let me stop you.”

He could, she realized with a lurch of her heart. There were things he could say that would keep her here, or at least make her listen. Now, if he’d said, “I need you,” or “There’s this thing between us,” maybe she would already be unpacking her bags. It was unsettling to admit to herself that he could tempt her to stay with just two words—
don’t go.

He didn’t say anything of the sort. He wouldn’t. They couldn’t talk about Joey. Rourke was mired in guilt over what had happened, and Jenny knew they both had the sense that it would never be resolved. It was just as well. If he asked her to stay, she might say yes, and they’

d end up having some sort of drama that would end badly and ruin their newly recaptured friendship.

They walked outside together into the cold, crisp morning. She said goodbye to the animals, feeling an unexpected tug as she petted them and rumpled their ears one last time.

Rourke already had the car warming up. As they drove the short distance to the train station, she looked out at the old-fashioned, snow-topped houses and stately bare trees, the covered bridge over the river and all the quaint churches and shops. Everything was so familiar. She took a mental snapshot, replacing some of the photos lost in the fire.

Rourke parked at the drop-off lot at the train station. They got out and he set her suitcase upright and pulled it to the entrance to the station. They stood facing each other, snowflakes flurrying around them.

“So I’m off,” she said.

“Good luck in the big city,” he said.

“Thanks, Rourke. Thanks for everything.”

“Can I say something?” he asked.

“Sure. Anything.”

“I’m going to miss you like hell.”

She laughed to cover her reaction. “At least you’ll get your own bed back.”

“Hey. I’m very attached to my sofa.”