A Little Learning (11 page)

Rory lifted her eyebrows.

“I mean, they didn’t think she was saintly in all her relationships, just that what she did for the resource center was saintly.”

“And were you the bad guy?” Rory asked.

He considered, then shook his head. “Probably to Janine sometimes. But no one would ever have suspected me of hurting her. I think they knew she’d never put up with that.”

“Or that you’re the kind of person who wouldn’t behave that way.”

He gave a rueful smile. “You know the worst part?”

She shook her head.

“That there were times—it wasn’t as straightforward as me wishing she was dead. But sometimes, just for a minute or two, I wished she would cease to be a problem to me. That she’d fall in love with someone else and a divorce would be
her
idea.”

“Did you ever talk about divorce?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, maybe obliquely. About the gun, for instance. She’d say things like,
You’re not telling me what to do. That won’t fly.
”

“And you? What did you say?”

“That I didn’t want my children living in the same house with a gun.” He finished wrapping Rory’s arm, fastened it with clips and lifted it gently to his lips. Then glanced at her impishly. “Just part of the medical treatment. Belle says wounds don’t heal if they aren’t kissed.”

“Then how did she get over her scrapes before she came to Sultan?” Rory realized too late that this was one of her instances of speaking without thinking. And there was no taking it back, making it better.

“Fiona,” Seamus said, not looking pleased with himself. He moved away. “Let’s see if I can get my stove going, and we can have something hot to drink.” He reached for his ski pants and dragged them on over his long underwear, since they’d dried out.

She tried to think of something besides how much she liked being close to him, but could only reflect on the fact that she’d practically come out and said that when he came to Sultan he’d been a virtual stranger to his own children.
Think first, Rory.

“When you go back to Telluride,” she asked, “will Fiona still work for you?”

“I’m not sure we’re going back to Telluride. Not to stay.”

She heard the hiss of gas and saw the ring of flame appear. He stepped outside the hut and then came back in, his camping pot filled with snow.

She considered everything her father had said the night of the open house. Her father believed that if she became involved with Seamus and the relationship failed, Seamus would desert Sultan. Otherwise—if she left him alone, in other words—he might become a permanent resident.

And here I am alone with him at night in this ski hut. If I make a wrong move, Seamus will take his money and his children and go back to Telluride.

Her father would be disappointed in her.

Not to mention the fact that Seamus was a client.

But what happened in this hut on this night would be no one’s business but theirs.

Rory tried to feel comfortable with the conclusion. But in the back of her mind there was a set of scales. On one side was what she felt for Seamus and the possibility that he liked her, too—and that his feelings for her
weren’t
temporary. On the other side was her father and her desire to please him by making a success of her job at the Sultan Mountain School—and by behaving in such a way that Seamus and his family would settle permanently in Sultan. As if she alone could dictate that outcome.

As if a bad experience with her would be sufficient to negate that outcome.

As if, by
not
becoming involved with Seamus, she could ensure that he
would
move to Sultan.

Was it possible that her father simply wanted to protect her? Maybe he saw Seamus as the kind of man who could never settle down.

But no, that wasn’t it.

Seamus had been married to an attorney.

She, Rory, had completed one year of college, and had no great desire to return to school. Her lack of a college education had never before made her feel inferior, but now it did.

Seamus made hot cocoa, and Rory drank hers quickly, grateful for the calories and the warmth. She tucked her water bottle inside the sleeping bag with her to keep it from freezing. Seamus stepped outside briefly, then came back in and said, “I may as well join you, so we can both keep warm. Is this all right, Rory?”

“It’s necessary, is what it is,” she said, evading the question. Trying not to think about just how much she wanted him beside her.

As he slipped into the nest they’d made, tucking the blankets around them both, he said, “I just know that you’ve sent one message about...” He let the sentence hang unfinished.

Her father’s warning lurked, like a visitor outstaying his welcome. She tried to push it away.

Seamus lay on his side facing her, barely visible in the starlight that filtered through the dirty windows. “I’m surprised you don’t have a boyfriend. You must have men pursuing you.”

“Oh. Sometimes new people. We all sort of already know each other in Sultan. And romance hasn’t been a priority for me.”
Until now.

“Why is that?”

“Well, I’ve had friends who really want to be part of a couple—you know, with anybody. But I tend to wait until someone really catches my attention.”

“How does a man do that?”

She didn’t know how to answer him. Working at the Sultan Mountain School was not just a way for her to make money. It was a way to win her father’s approval. And she felt she was doing that.

Yes, Seamus had her attention. But she wasn’t sure she could afford it. Should she be candid with him and tell him what her father had said? “My father has discouraged me from becoming involved with you.”

Seamus caught his breath. Then he raised his head, propping himself up with his forearm. “Did he.” It wasn’t a question.

“He feels I’m not right for you. He pointed out—with reason, I think—that you’re worldly and well-educated and I’m basically a high-school graduate who has spent her life in Sultan, Colorado.” Why not tell him everything? “He believes that any interest you feel in me will be passing.”

He said nothing.

“It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you or value you,” she said quickly. Oh, boy, what if she’d messed everything up?
By talking too much, Rory!
What if she’d colored Seamus’s whole experience at the Sultan Mountain School with this burst of frankness? “He just doesn’t want me to get in over my head, or abilities, or experience or any of that. It really wasn’t anything negative about you.”

They were using her down jacket as a pillow. She changed position, fluffing the jacket and grabbing her ski pants to add to the pillow.

* * *

S
EAMUS
INHALED
THE
SCENT
of her on her jacket and in her hair. He’d never met a woman so alluring. But clearly, Kurt Gorenzi doubted his intentions. And why wouldn’t he? Seamus had lost a wife to a violent death. That was enough to make any father skittish. And Kurt seemed to sense something of Seamus’s ambivalent feelings about his role as a parent to his four children.

Yes, Kurt had been right to warn his daughter. He’d been caring and protective. Seamus hoped that Rory appreciated that fact.

His hand strayed to her hair, in its messy braid. He felt the ridges of curls, then slid his hand to the curve of her cheek.

Her head fell back against the jacket and her chin lifted toward him.

His mouth felt for hers and touched it. She returned his kiss, gently, somehow purely.

The kiss deepened, and he felt feverishly warm, so that the frigid air in the hut was welcome.

He said, “Are you going to heed your father’s warning?”

Slowly, her head moved. Minutely. First to one side, then the other. A single-word answer:
No.

The words came from him in a rush. “When I see you with my children, it’s perfect. I want you there. Nobody’s ever been so right.”

She said, “I love them. I love them all, but please don’t mistake wanting a mother for your children for wanting a partner for yourself. It’s not the same. You have Fiona. And there are
many
people who are good with kids and who can be paid to be good with kids. You don’t need to marry someone for that.”

“Rory, I
need
a partner. I believe you can be that person. I believe we can...” He heard himself; knew he was jumping forward. He’d barely kissed this woman. And yet he knew that she was the woman he wanted. Everything she represented
fit.

“Slow down,” she said. “This is crazy.” And she felt herself going crazy, too; crazy for a man who
was
a man, not a boy who spent his life backcountry skiing, someone who lived only to play, as her previous boyfriends had done. She’d hated that characteristic, hated seeing adult males behave as though there was nothing more important than the next run. Seamus was different.

But caution wrapped itself around her. Caution penetrated the overwhelming desire to kiss him again. Caution said that if she acted on the desire she might
feel
too much. That it might be too late, then.

Seamus held himself back from her. “We’re not going to get any sleep,” he said.

“Why don’t you take the emergency blankets and go up on the top bunk?”

“Okay.” He sat up, beginning to gather the blankets.

Immediately, she regretted the decision. But she didn’t really
know
him. And yet she did. The things she didn’t know were things she couldn’t ask. It would be insensitive and wrong to ask.

She said, “I’m sorry. I’m apologizing in advance. Samantha said you were the one who found Janine.”

“Yes. She’d been hit in the throat.” His voice had turned cold. “Her eyes were open. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“I want to know
you
and somehow I don’t feel as if I can, when there’s so much I
don’t
know.”

“It was three-thirty in the afternoon. The kids were going to be home in minutes. That was all I could think about, and she was in the mudroom, where the washer and dryer are. I grabbed towels and threw them over her, so that her body was covered, and then I went and stood in the door of the mudroom so no one could go in and I called 911 on my cell phone.”

“Were the police upset that you touched things?”

“They understood why I’d done it.”

“What happened when the kids came home? Did they show up before the police?”

“They did. It had been snowing. I told Lauren and Beau that they had to shovel the front walk. They knew something was wrong. They wanted to go past me, but I yelled at them to get shoveling.”

“Where were Caleb and Belle?”

“With Fiona, in town. Beau and Lauren wanted a snack, which was reasonable, and so I was shouting at them when the police came. Then I told them their mother was dead.”

Rory’s hand tightened on his wrist. She knew, he realized, that this had been the worst part. Then, telling Caleb.

“Lauren screamed. Beau ran around to the far side of the house. Lauren wanted to see her, but I wouldn’t let her. One of the cops helped me with her.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yes.”

“And they never saw her?” Rory asked.

“Not until later. After they’d...worked on her. At the funeral home.”

Rory had felt she did not know him. But now she realized she
had
known him. Everything he’d done was what she’d have expected of him.

“There were scenes,” he said. “In the next few days. The kids were a mess. Lauren and Beau, especially. I was so lucky to have Fiona. I don’t know what she said to them. I know she helped them write down their feelings in poems. And she read to them. She used to take them outside a lot, to walk and talk. She’d talk about everything being connected through the earth. About how ancient the mountains were. It helped. They seemed to accept that their mother had become a lasting part of the earth. I don’t understand how she did it. Maybe I’ve deluded myself, thinking that she was successful in helping them through their grieving.”

“Who helped you?”

He exhaled slowly, looking straight ahead. “I didn’t grieve for Janine. I grieved for my children because their mother had died and I knew they could hardly bear it. I hated Janine for being so stupid.” Rory’s hand had found his, and now he said, “Funny. Talking about it now, I feel less angry at her. It was a disaster, and I know I should let go of her part in it.”

“I’m not sure ‘should’ is a practical word in this situation.”

Seamus lightly touched her injured left arm. “How’s this?”

“Not bad, unless I move around. I can tell it’s swelling. Seamus, thank you for talking about all this to me. I needed to know about you. The history.”

“That makes sense. I’d like to know more of yours, too.”

She laughed ruefully. “To be perfectly honest, my recent history has had to do with employment—getting fired from jobs. It’s not all that interesting.”

“Fired?”

“Yes.”

“What was it like growing up with your grandmother?”

Rory considered. “It was different. It was always a little sad—I thought my father didn’t want me.”

Did she imagine it or did he flinch?

Rory rushed on. “But my grandmother was good. She would talk with me about anything. The only thing she didn’t like to discuss was the fact that my mother had cheated on my dad. Also, she seemed to think the man involved was not worth it in any way. She said my mom had trouble getting anyone to reach her soul—because she was so into plants, into science. My dad said something like that, too. He implied that he couldn’t keep up with her intellectually, or in terms of life experience. But my mom’s always going to be a mystery to me.”

She changed the subject. “Seamus, this might be something you can’t do or don’t want to do. But...” She hunted for an analogy. “I love Desert, but you’ve probably guessed that she wasn’t always the easiest person to live with or be friends with.”

“I’ve guessed that,” he agreed.

“It always helps me if I think of the things I really love about her, the times when she’s been at her best as a human being. For example, sometimes she’s so
caring.
I mean, there were occasions when I felt just rotten and she knew exactly how to say the right thing.”