Wintertide: A Novel (20 page)

Kristen turned in my direction. "Hi,"
she said, her eyes widening in surprise. Then she smiled at me. "What are
you doing here?" she asked, glancing behind me to see who I was with.

I found myself returning her smile.
"Actually, I came to see you. Can you take a break?"

The other girl, she was shorter than
Kristen and her hair was dyed an unnatural blonde color, grinned at me. “Of
course, she can.” Then she raised her eyebrows suggestively at us.

Kristen’s cheeks filled with color.
"I don't know. I just got here."

"It's dead in here today,” the
blonde girl said. “Go take a break. Take as long as you want."

"Well, maybe just a quick cup
of coffee,” she told me and then turned to her co-worker again. “Are you sure
you'll be all right?"

The blonde nodded vigorously, her
wide smile still in place.

“Ok, then.” Kristen said as she grabbed
her purse from under the counter and then came around to meet me. “We could go
to the food court,” she suggested.

“Sounds good.”

 I followed her out of the store
and into the mall area. Once again, I saw the red highlights in her hair that
hadn’t been there before and the curve of her waist seemed more defined now. The
changes were subtle but noticeable. I wondered if she’d made herself over for a
boyfriend or if she was seeing someone.

The food court was as quiet as the
rest of the mall. We each ordered coffee. I paid and brought both cups over to
a table she had chosen. Once we were settled, she took a small tentative sip,
testing the temperature. “What brings you out here on a day like this?” she
asked, her bright green eyes intent on mine.

“I wanted to see you.”

She gave me a shy smile and looked
back down at her coffee. “Are you having a good break?” she asked.

Hardly, I thought. “It’s been
okay.”

"When do you go back to
school?"

"Next week.” I brought the cup
to my lips and tried not to wince when I discovered it was barely lukewarm.
“So, what about you?” I asked. “Are you still taking classes at the community
college?” I recalled that was her intention when we last spoke.

She nodded at me. “I’m hoping to
transfer to a bigger school next year. I’ve applied for some loans and
scholarships.”

“That’s great.”

She shrugged modestly in response. We
sat quietly for a bit, drinking our coffee. I was never much of a conversationalist,
but that’s one of the things I liked about Kristen. With her, I didn’t have to
be.

“Can I ask you a question?” she
inquired tentatively.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you call me when you
were at school?”

I sighed and put down my coffee. I
knew if I came to see her I would probably have to answer this question. The
problem was, I didn’t have a good answer. “I really am sorry about that.”

Her eyes searched mine. “And you
didn’t return my calls or emails.”

I nodded. “I know. I’m a jerk. I’m
lucky you’re even willing to sit here and talk to me. Why are you?” I asked.
“Why are you being so nice after what I did?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I
have no idea. And you’re right. You are a jerk.”

I smiled at her bluntness. It was
so uncharacteristic of her. But I felt my smile quickly dissolving. She
deserved an explanation. “It wasn’t you,” I told her. “It was this place. It
just felt so good being away at first that I didn’t want any reminders. I’m
sorry. I know that sounds bad. The truth is, you were the only person I really
missed. But I kept putting off calling you, and then too much time had passed,
and I figured you’d moved on.”

She listened intently, her hand
playing with the rim of her coffee cup. “I didn’t move on,” she said softly. “Did
you?”

I was mesmerized by her expression
as she watched me, waiting for my answer. She was so open and honest and her
words were very welcome, I realized. “I thought I had,” I replied. “But now I
know I haven’t.”

Her gaze held mine while the
corners of her mouth curved up slightly. I could see that she was pleased with
my response. Although, she wasn’t ready to jump up and throw her arms around me
just yet.

She took another sip of her coffee.
"What are you majoring in at school?" she asked, changing the
subject.

"Pre-law."

"Pre-law?” she repeated,
looking stunned. “I can't see you being a lawyer, Danny."

"Why not?" I asked,
amused by her reaction.

"I mean, I'm sure you could do
it, but I always thought you'd be a writer. It would suit you better. I
remember your papers from English class. They were really good. Plus, you've
got that angst thing going that creative people have," she continued.

"I have angst?”

She nodded and grinned at me. “You
know, the quiet brooding thing. You’ve got that in spades.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe
I’m not brooding. Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

She tilted her head and studied me.
“Yeah, maybe not. Maybe you’re just a pretty face without much between the ears.”

“Hey,” I protested, brushing my leg
against hers beneath the small table. “You think my face is pretty?”

“Oh, please. Get over yourself,”
she laughed, not moving her leg away.

I laughed, too, then, allowing
myself to forget everything else for just a little while.

When her break was over, I walked
her back to the store letting her know that I wanted to see her again before I
had to leave and that I would call her. She nodded noncommittally at me, silently
letting me know that she would believe that when it happened. I couldn’t blame
her. But if I was able to, I intended to follow through this time. Knowing the
feelings that we both still had for each other, I couldn’t understand why I had
let her slip away in the first place.

Since I’d told my mother that I
wouldn’t be home for dinner, I walked back to the food court and got a couple
of slices of pizza. Then I sat there quietly and ate alone, listening to the
Christmas music that filtered down from the ceiling. Realizing that my phone
was still turned off, I pulled it from my pocket and debated powering it on. I
stared at the blank screen and felt my heart speed up at the thought of what
might await me on my voicemail. Finally, I just put it away in my pocket again
and finished my pizza.

The next morning I awoke, after a
full night’s rest, finally feeling somewhat like myself. My cold was nearly
gone, and the haze that I’d been submersed in due to lack of sleep had lifted.
But still, I did not power on my phone. The knot in my stomach had loosened,
but it made its presence known when I glanced over at the phone sitting
silently on my dresser.

I showered, dressed, made the usual
small talk over breakfast with my mother, and then I went outside to find my
father shoveling the driveway. The Buick, which I needed to get to Professor
Sheffield’s house this morning, was blocked in by Dad’s truck. I grabbed
another shovel I’d found in the garage and went out to help him. During the
night, the town plow had gone by and while clearing the road, it had deposited
a mountain of dirty grey ice and snow at the foot of the driveway. I gripped
the shovel and dug into the pile. Hearing me behind him, Dad paused and turned
toward me. After giving me a grateful nod, he went back to digging. Silently,
we worked side by side, creating our own substantial hills of displaced snow on
either side of the driveway entrance.

Once the way was clear, Dad took my
shovel and returned them both to the garage. When he passed by me standing next
to the Buick, waiting for him to move the truck, he said, “Thanks,” his voice
breathless from the exertion.

I shrugged. “I need to get out,
too.”

“Daniel!” I turned toward the front
door. My mother was standing there, half in and half out of the house. “Seth is
on the phone for you.”

I took a deep breath and closed my
eyes before answering. “Tell him I left already.”

She eyed me curiously before
nodding and disappearing back into the house.
“Everything okay?” Dad asked beside me.

I nodded and pulled open the door
to the Buick. I waited for Dad to move toward the truck. When he didn’t, I
asked, “Everything okay with you?”

He hesitated before answering. “You
should come home more.”

“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard
him correctly.

“I said, you should come home more.
It makes your mother happy.”

I stared at him, feeling old
resentments bubbling up. “Why can’t you make her happy?” I challenged.

He averted his eyes and rubbed a
rough, calloused hand over his cheek. When his eyes met mine again, I thought I
saw hurt in them. “I don’t know, Daniel,” he said. “I wish I did.”

Then he got in his truck and left
without a backwards glance.

The sun was out this morning, its
bright rays glaring off the snow, making me wonder where I’d left my sunglasses
for the first time since I’d been home. My father’s words ran through my head
during the drive to Professor Sheffield’s house. I’d been assuming my father
was at fault for the problems my parents were having and had been having for a
long time. The look in Dad’s eyes when he answered me began to shift my
perception. I wondered if he shared the guilt I’d always felt for being unable
to fill my mother’s world the way she’d wanted me to.

I was so deep into my own thoughts
when I arrived at the professor’s house, that I didn’t immediately notice the
unfamiliar car parked on the street in front. While I didn’t recognize the car,
as I drew closer I realized that I did know who belonged to the dark silhouette
sitting in the driver’s seat. I didn’t know how Eddie had discovered where I was
working, and I didn’t want a confrontation in full view of the professor and
his entire neighborhood. Rather than stopping, I slowly  pulled past the silver
Honda in which he was sitting. His dark eyes followed my progression as I moved
by him and continued down the street hoping he would follow. A glance in the
rear view mirror confirmed that he had.

I figured that if I continued onto
the main road and pulled into a busy area, he would leave if he didn’t want to
be seen. But a part of me just wanted to get the inevitable over with. So I
left the professor’s street and drove about a mile to the quiet service road
that ran along Route 6. After parking to the side of the tree-lined street, I
got out and went around the car, hopping up to sit on the trunk and wait for
Eddie to pull up behind me. I was going to be late to Professor Sheffield’s
house now, if I even made it there at all.

His car came to a stop and Eddie
slowly got out. His familiar leather jacket was gone. Instead he had on a black
parka and a black wool hat pulled down low over his forehead.

“Morning, Dan,” he said, his breath
a visible white puff when he stopped in front of me.

“Morning,” I replied. “How did you
know where I worked?”

“Your mom told Seth when he called
your house this morning.”

My jaw clenched at the realization
that Seth had been involved in my ambush.

“You haven’t been answering your
phone.”

“True story,” I told him.

Eddie’s eyes were intent on mine, a
smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Seth said you needed more time to
think. But I figured you’d already made up your mind.”

“I never changed my mind,” I told
him. I felt surprisingly calm telling him this, relieved that the anticipation
of this moment could finally end.

Eddie shoved his hands down into
his coat pockets. “There’s nothing I can say to change how you feel?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Maybe there’s something I can do
then.”

“You mean put the fireplace poker
somewhere that would incriminate me and then tell the police that I did it.
That’s really a stretch, don’t you think?

He shrugged. “It was a Hail Mary.
You’re right.”

My eyes widened at his admission.

“You really do think I’m stupid,
don’t you?” He scowled at me, not bothering to hide his resentment.

I shook my head. “No. I never
thought you were stupid.”

“See? You can tell a good lie,
Dan.”

Sighing, I pushed away from the car
and stood in front of him. I was a few inches taller than Eddie, but he had
more girth.

“Actually, I had something else in
mind,” he said, withdrawing his hands from his pockets and fisting them by his
sides.

I’d never been in a fight before,
and I knew his experience made me no match for him, but I didn’t intend to be a
punching bag. When his hands remained where they were, my eyes found his, and I
saw a glint in them. He was amused that I thought he was going to hit me. “That
would certainly feel good,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fists. “But
I doubt that would change your mind.”

After giving me a lopsided grin, he
turned away and walked back toward his car. Pausing before pulling the door
open, his eyes found mine again. “I would suggest that you lock your doors and
windows, Dan. The Cape can be a dangerous place.” Then he got in his car and
started the engine. When he drove past me, he pointed his thumb and index
finger at me and feigned pulling a trigger.

My mind was racing as I turned the
car around and drove back to Professor Sheffield’s house. Eddie’s threat was leading
me to a conclusion that I hadn’t considered before. I don’t know why I hadn’t. He
was already a murderer. He could do it again.

I parked in front of the professor’s
house and took a deep breath. It was possible that Eddie had only intended to
scare me into doing what he wanted. Did I honestly believe that he would go so
far as to kill me now? That was the problem though. I never believed he would
kill someone in the first place.

The professor greeted me at the
door, and he had so much to say about the weather and the holidays that he
didn’t notice I was mostly silent and distracted. I put in a full day’s work,
typing out the text of notebook after notebook, repressing the turmoil that
existed outside the cocoon of the professor’s house. At some point, the
professor brought me a plate with leftovers from his holiday dinner. I smiled
and thanked him, eating without really registering what was on the plate.