Warm Winter Love (10 page)

She ran out of the shop, not looking back, but knowing that Sam was respecting her wishes. She had to be alone now. There were too many things she had to think about, too many things that had to be sorted out before tomorrow.

Chapter Ten

Sam stuck to his pact that evening. “I promised you, Katie, and I meant it. No hard sell today.” He put his finger under her chin and tilted it so that her face was close to his, too close for her comfort. “Are you okay?” he asked, and when she nodded her head he smiled. He looked closer at her swollen eyes, and she knew he was just being gallant. No, she wasn’t okay and he knew it. They both knew it.

He touched her arm. “Of course, what you’re thinking I don’t know, and what I’m thinking you won’t know, but we’ll keep it light.” He squeezed her hand. “This evening it’s your choice. Whatever you want to do—dance, ski, talk, or walk. It’s your choice. And,” he said, grinning, “if you want to ski Devil’s Mist even though I don’t, then, of course, I’ll do it. Anything for you.”

She managed to smile when he mentioned Devil’s Mist. That was another thing about him—he had a charm that could make her laugh even though her heart was breaking. Like now.

“Come on,” he said, drawing her away from the dinner table. “Take your choice. What’s it to be?”

“Ski, and not Devil’s Mist,” she said with a forced laugh. “Oh, Sam, sometimes you’re completely. Completely…” She bit her lip, trying to find the right word to describe him. But how could she ever describe him?

“Completely what?” He saw her confusion and stepped toward her. “Still your choice, Katie,” he said.

She took it for a double statement. “The mountain,” she said.

He bent his head in agreement. “Okay. Wherever and whatever you want.”

She knew that he was making an affirmation that went way beyond this moment. This evening was just what she wanted and needed. Sam, in his gentle and brash wisdom, was making no demands on her, never once mentioning their future. It was a strain for both of them but she knew he would always keep his promises, no matter what the circumstances.

Jason was like that too, she had to admit. Once his word was given, then nothing could deter him. Maybe that was why she was attracted to both Sam and Jason—they did have some similar qualities. They were both kind and gentle human beings, and both were successful and happy in what they wanted to do in life. But, unfortunately, they both expected her to love them. And that was the problem. In her heart she knew that she loved both of them, only not in the same committed and romantic way. But right now it was too difficult for her to admit. Suppose that she chose for the wrong reasons?

This was one of the few times in her life that she had ever had to make a hard choice. Usually, she was able to decide within minutes, which was sometimes her trouble, she had been told. She sometimes made decisions too quickly. But this time—dealing with both her heart and mind—this was too complex, too important and too painful. There was no logical right or wrong. Jason had always said to use your mind when you had to decide something. But this wasn’t strictly a mental problem. Oh, no! This was a matter of her heart too. Why did she have to meet up with two really wonderful men? Why did she have to choose between them?

She had a jumble of disconcerting thoughts while waiting for Sam to finish his run and watching for his red cap and ski jacket to appear on the horizon. She had gone down first, in incredibly short time, and when she pushed off, he was still adjusting his boots. No matter. Waiting for him in the cold air would give her a chance to think.

Not that she hadn’t already done a lot of thinking this afternoon. She had skipped lunch and stayed in her room, not wanting to see Sam. She had even tried to call Jason again. Actually, she had played that children’s game of thinking that if he answered, then it would be right to continue with their plans, and if he didn’t answer, then she would break their engagement.

She let the phone ring twice before hanging up, not really wanting to take a chance on the result of the game. She would never know whether he was there or not. But it wasn’t the way to decide the rest of your life! Definitely not! She smiled wryly. How would she ever tell anyone—Jason, Irene, her mother—that she had decided her future on the basis of a child’s game? It was beyond explanation.

She looked up at the mountain. Sam still wasn’t in sight; in fact, there weren’t many people coming down the slope and she began to worry about an accident. Maybe he had fallen or taken a bad turn or hit a rock. Or maybe he broke his leg or collided with a tree or maybe had a concussion. She imagined all sorts of things that could have happened on the mountainside and all at once she realized that she was assuming Sam had had an accident and more importantly, that she was panicked that something had really happened to him.

Fear invaded her body. What would her life be like without Sam? She leaned against the small tree near the end of the run. She hadn’t thought about that situation. She had only imagined what it would be like to be married to Jason. She had thought about Sam’s traveling, but she hadn’t explored the idea completely, hadn’t gone further than the weekday separations. Life with Sam would be constant fun, constant serendipity as they took each day, never knowing what discoveries it would bring. Small, trivial things gave him joy—the pull-toy train in the shop or the falling snow. His ability to amuse and be amused—that part of his life would be contagious. But was that enough? Would that carry through a whole lifetime?

She kept scanning the mountain while she thought of the reasons she should marry Sam. He was successful in his job, so he certainly had sense. He always saw the bright side of things and was rarely depressed. Not even now, when he wanted something—her—did he succumb to despondency. Yes, he had his downside too. Hadn’t she seen the pain in his eyes the night before? But he was able to bounce back and continue fighting for what he wanted. It certainly said something about his character!

She wondered if Jason would fight for her and would want her as much as Sam did. Or would he accept her decision and not contest it? It was something she would never find out, although someday she would really like to know. But did it matter? The bottom line was that Jason would always be there, would always love her in his own way, and if it wasn’t in the same style as Sam—well, that could be compensated for, because they would always be together.

She glanced once more at the mountain and saw several skiers making their way down, but there was no black parka. Where was he? Please don’t let him have had an accident.

“Dreaming again, Katie?” Sam asked.

He had approached her from behind, and she felt relieved that nothing had happened to him and that her nightmare-daydreams were only testing her.

“I waited for you and wondered where you were,” she said quietly.

“I went down the far side. It was just something I wanted to do.” He took a deep breath. “Something I felt I had to do tonight. Do you understand?”

“I know.” She did, really. Magic Mountain had that effect on him too. Funny, they had so much in common, so much that was mystical in their lives, at least here in the shadow of the mountain. It was aptly named. Perhaps others had also discovered its secret.

They walked toward the Crest as snow fell on their hoods and parkas, making the fabrics appear blotched before they began melting. He held out his hand so that a flake fell onto it and then he presented the glittering crystal to her.

‘‘I can’t promise you diamonds,” he said simply, and she felt the tears well up in her eyes again. “So this will have to do.” He looked at her, and she saw the anguish in his clouded eyes. “Please take this, Katie-Katie,” he said, extending his mittened hand to her. “It’s all I have to offer you right now. That… and me.”

She touched the almost-melted flake and looked up at him. “For tonight,” she said, so quietly that he had to strain to hear her. “For tonight, I’ll take it.” And then she added to herself,
Because I do love you, Sam.

Chapter Eleven

It wasn’t that Katie believed in omens, but while she was getting ready for her last dinner with Sam, her room shook suddenly, and then the picture of Jason and her fell off the dresser, shattering the glass. Was it a sign, she asked herself, a sign that she shouldn’t marry Jason? No, that was silly.

She sat on the bed with the broken frame in her hand and looked at the picture. They had been happy then, and she had been content with Jason. Would she be content now? After knowing Sam? The picture was shaking in her hands. She put it down, but her hands continued trembling. She clasped them together and then buried them in the blanket. They had to stop shaking. Sam was waiting for her downstairs and they must not betray her.

She looked in the mirror and the face that stared back at her was dull, lifeless, as though something terrible had happened. She wiped at her eyes. Something terrible has happened, she thought. It’s all over. Sam and I… tomorrow… tomorrow! No, she wouldn’t think about tomorrow.

“Oh, Sam!” she cried out to the empty room. “If only things were different.” Then she smoothed down her dress and straightened her shoulders. She had to look composed and in charge of her emotions. She took another look in the mirror and rubbed at her cheeks, hoping to put some color in her face. She took a deep breath and started to the door. “This is it, Katie, one last night with Sam,” she said aloud, wishing that the night would be over quickly and also that it would never end.

She met him in the hall near the dining room. He took her hand and held it, trying to smile, but unable to. Just the way he said it made her want to weep: “Our last night, Katie-Katie. And then it’s good-bye.”

“Don’t, Sam,” she said. “Don’t talk about it now.”

Inside the dining room, she sat in the chair at the window table where they had had their first dinner. It was almost as if he had arranged it purposely. “This is going to be difficult for us,” she said.

“We have to talk, Katie. We just can’t let this happen. We just can’t walk away from each other and do nothing.” He moved the vase with a red silk rose to the side of the table. “We have to make one more try to sort this out. I can’t lose you like this. Can’t just let you go.”

She looked through the window at the mountain. “There are some things you can’t undo, Sam. I can’t be the kind of woman who will just pick up and go around the world for you. Nor can I be the kind of woman who will sit quietly and wait until you show up on Friday, or once a month. I need more than that. I once told you that the only thing I had in common with my mother was my eyes. I was wrong. I want security, like she wanted it. I need it too.”

Sam held her hand and ignored his meal. “There must be some compromises. Life’s made up of compromises, Katie.”

She shook her head sharply. “Not on this. I just can’t see any. Oh, Sam, there doesn’t seem to be any answer for us.”

“Sometimes we have to create new kinds of answers. Can you honestly say that you don’t love me?” He watched the expression on her face and she knew that he saw her answer. He continued: “Can you truthfully say that you don’t want me and that you’d rather marry Jason? That you’ll have a better and happier life with Jason? Katie, tell me that you don’t love me,” he said again. “Go on, say, ‘Sam, I don’t love you. I love Jason.’ ”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t, don’t you? You know…” She stopped, fearing that any sound from her lips would betray her. She heard the band in the next room, the cabaret, begin an old country and western tune and the lyrics played in her memory. Something about the heartbreak of a woman. The end of a romance, the end of a love and she wanted to yell to the bandleader to stop playing the song, to stop mocking her. She didn’t need words and music to remind her that her heart was breaking.

“I don’t like that song,” she said.

“Something to recall. When you hear it again, you’ll remember me, us, and this night.” Sam held her hand tightly, and she kept her wrist rigid, not wanting to move it away from him, wanting him to hold her hand forever.

He looked at their untouched food. “I’m not very hungry,” he said.

“Neither am I.”

“Let’s go somewhere—anywhere.” He looked out the window at the few flakes that were coming down from the cloudy sky. “It’s snowing again. Probably the last storm of the year.”

“No, not outside.” She didn’t want to be completely alone with him. She knew that he had the power to persuade her to change her mind.

He pushed back his chair and looked down at her. “I want to hold you in my arms, Katie,” he said simply. He gestured toward the cabaret. “I’ve never danced with you. I want to dance with you. I want to hold you in my arms for as long as possible.”

They danced through three sets of songs—holding each other tightly, clinging to each other, not speaking, not questioning, just accepting the music and the rhythm and the moment. He held her gently yet firmly, and she wanted to nestle within his arms, dance languidly so that they would always touch. She wanted him to keep his arms around her forever. She had wanted it from their very first moment on the dance floor, when he put his hand on her waist and then on her shoulder.

She put her head on his shoulder, thinking that she was happy here within this protected circle, and wanting the music and the night and the dance to last forever. She heard a woman’s laughter from nearby, and then, when a man happily shouted a phrase, the knowledge that other people would enjoy life after this evening filled her with an overwhelming sense of loss and chased away the brief moment of joy. Did the other dancers know that her heart was breaking, that she was saying good-bye to love before she had really ever said hello?