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Pam was out of her chair like a shot. “You have made something. You’re—”

“A miner,” he cut in with a grunt of disgust. “I’ve been a miner for the last eight years and I’ll be one for the next eight and the eight after that. I’m not going anywhere, Pam. If I’d been smarter when it mattered, I might’a gone to college. But it’s too late for that, too. So I’m stuck in a rut.”

She tried to take his hand, but he turned away. Grabbing a log, he hunkered down before the wood stove to push it inside. “I’m not moving, Pam, but you are. You’ve got a future ahead of you. You can do well in school and go on to college, then you can work in the company way up there at the top of the ladder. I’ll never be able to do that. Don’t you see? I’m down here at the bottom. I’ll always be down here at the bottom. I ain’t got nuthin’ to boost me up.”

Pam ached for him. Squatting before the stove with his head down, he looked defeated. “That’s not true. You have a record for eight years of good, hard work. You could be a supervisor—”

“Not under John. Maybe if Eugene were alive, but there’s no way John would move me up.”

“I could ask,” she offered, and would have done it in a minute if the look he shot her hadn’t been so quelling. Her asking John for a promotion on Cutter’s behalf would be asking for trouble for them both, and anyway, Cutter had too much pride to let her do it.

“I thought you didn’t want to be a supervisor. That’s what you told me once.”

“It was a long time ago. Things have changed.”

“What things?” she asked more quietly. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed a handful of his hair. It fell thick on his neck and was perfect for tugging. “Tell me, Cutter. What things?”

He twisted on the balls of his feet to face her directly then, and she almost wished she hadn’t pushed. His look was so intense that her insides quivered.

“If I was a somebody—”

“You
are
a somebody—”

“If I was a somebody—” He cut himself off this time.

“What?” she prodded.

He stared at her for another agonizing minute before giving a short shake of his head. Hands on his thighs, he pushed himself up. “Nothing.”

“What were you going to say?”

He went to the refrigerator. “And anyway, being a supervisor at the mine isn’t what I’m talking about.” He popped open a beer and took a swallow. Reaching in again before the door swung shut, he tossed her a can of Coke. “I’m talking about moving up and out. Getting a fancy apartment or buying a house. Wearing a shirt and tie. Driving a sports car. Traveling.”

“You can do all that.”

“How? I’m not trained for a damned thing besides mining, and even if I was, I don’t have any degree. Pick up the papers any day and see who the big men in business are. Most of them went to college and graduate school. I didn’t finish high school.”

“So go back and finish. You could do it. You could go to college—”

“Not now.”

“Why?”

“I’m too old.”

“You’re barely twenty-four! Loads of people are still in school at that age.”

“Not high school.”

“You could do it if you wanted.” Coke can in hand, she went to the refrigerator and nudged him aside. “No one’s stopping you.”

“But I have a job here. What are you doing, Pam?”

“Getting a beer.”

“I keep the Coke for you.”

“So keep it for another time. I want a beer.” Fully aware that he was watching, she popped the tab and took a swallow.

Cutter leaned back against the sink. “You do that pretty smoothly. Go to lots of beer parties?”

“Some.”

“It’s fun, huh? Kind of defiant? Makes you feel big?”

“You should know. You’ve been drinking beer for years.”

“And I’ll be drinking it long after you’ve outgrown it and moved on to wine. That’s what I’m trying to say, Pam. What I’m doing now, I’ll be doing for the rest of my life, but you—you have the whole world open in front of you. You’re still growing. There’ll come a time, not too far off, when you won’t want to be up here. You’ll have a full life in the city—”

“Never a full life there. Part of me was meant to be here.”

“But your future is there. You’ll be part of the business someday. You won’t have time to go for walks in the woods—”

“With you, always.”

He shook his head. “You’re growing up. Your life is just starting. You’re going to go back to Boston and get those good grades—not because of John’s threats but because you want to. You’ll go to college, then go into the business, and somewhere along the way you’ll meet someone just as smart and successful as you are. You’ll get married and have kids, and once in a while you’ll bring them up here and show them to me, only I’ll be exactly the same then as I am now.”

That wasn’t at all how Pam imagined it. “You’re wrong. I may go to college, and I’ll surely go into the business, but I’m not getting married so quickly.” She tipped up her chin. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Waiting for what?”

“You to get married.”

“I won’t ever.”

“Then I won’t either.”

“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”

“No more crazy than your not getting married or not going back to school or not getting a better job if that’s what you want. Not that you need a better job. The one you have now is just fine. It’s honest and it’s important.”

“You say that because you’re young and idealistic.”

“For God’s sake, Cutter, you’re only seven years older than I.”

“Seven years and a lifetime.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

He regarded her for a long time. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“What I’m trying to say.”

“You’re saying that I’m going places and you’re not, but you’re wrong.”

Coming away from the sink, he took her chin in his hand. His voice vibrated with feeling. “I’m saying that if things were different, if I hadn’t thrown it all away because I was young and dumb and scared, I’d have a chance with you now. You’re the only girl I’ve ever met who I’d think of marrying, but I’m all wrong for you.”

Pam’s heart had started to pound against her ribs. “No—”

“You’re poised and polished. You’ve got money. You’ve got class and breeding.” His thumb brushed her mouth. She felt its touch deep inside her. “Me, I’ve got nothing but this house, a pickup, and a job. Sure, I’ve got a little money in the bank, but not so much that it would make a difference. We’re from opposite sides of the track.”

“There’s no track here,” she argued, nearly breathless because he was so close to her. “That’s what Daddy proved. He had money, but he was always one of the miners, and he was happiest that way. I’m the same. I’m happiest when I’m up here.”

Cutter seemed distracted following the movement of his thumb on her mouth. “You won’t be. Not forever.” He took a shaky breath. “There are times when I wish—”

She was barely breathing now. “Wish what?”

His thumb skimmed the new glow on her cheek.

“What, Cutter?”

“There are times—” he faltered, brought his thumb all the way around her cheek to her jaw, then went on in a smoky tone, “times when I wish I could take you away someplace where it wouldn’t matter who you were or who I was—” His voice broke off, but his eyes stayed on her mouth.

Pam had kissed and been kissed before. But she’d never felt the sudden need for both that she felt then.

Cutter stepped back.

Grabbing his hand before it reached his side, she carried it to her mouth and held tight. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

But he shook his head.

“Why not?” she whispered.

“I won’t start something I can’t finish.”

“You can finish it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

“You can, Cutter. I want you to.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes came open, dark and dangerous. “I want to do more than that.”

“You
can
.”

Suddenly his hands were against her scalp, immobilizing her head while his heat immobilized her body. “Listen to me, Pam. We’re not playing games here. Making love is serious business.”

“I know. Lots of my friends have—”

“Have you?”

“With the guys at home? No way!”

“So you’re a virgin.”

“I want to do it with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“No!”

“It’s okay, really it is.”

“No!”
He took a breath. “No. And if you can’t accept that, we won’t be able to see each other. Is that what you want?”

She felt teary. “You know it isn’t.”

“Then I don’t want to hear any more about it. We’ve discussed it. We’ve decided. It’s done.” He looked at her for a minute longer, then, swearing softly, hugged her hard. “You’re enough to drive a sane man mad, Pam.”

She didn’t answer. She was too busy breathing him and feeling him, storing up memories for the time when she was back home.

Those memories came in handy in the weeks that followed. Seeing no way out of her predicament, Pam spent more time at home than ever before. Her room became her haven. She talked on the phone some with her friends, but the frivolity of it was gone. She slept some, daydreamed some, brooded some. Mostly she studied. John had put the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, and she felt it keenly.

She didn’t see him much at first. True to his word, he seemed to have stopped playing watchdog. He had told her the rules and was doing whatever it was he did with his time while she abided by them. If anyone was her guard, it was school. Her midterm report would be telling.

Her grades rose dramatically. Pam was relieved to know she could do it, and in that sense the pressure eased. It didn’t go away, though. John wasn’t satisfied simply to know that she could do well; he wanted her to do it on a regular basis. He made it clear what would happen if she didn’t.

He also made it clear that he was pleased with her progress. She suspected it was his own cleverness that pleased him most—he had effectively, and painlessly on his part, brought her to heel—but the fact that he was less odious than usual was some solace. He took her to dinner at the Ritz when she received those first improved grades, even invited her to several business functions. He took to stopping by her room when he came home from work, then again before he went to bed, and while she told herself that he was just checking up on her, there seemed more to it. He was actually being pleasant.

“How’s it going with Mrs. Ditmar?” he asked one night. Mrs. Ditmar was the American-literature teacher with whom Pam had locked horns at the start of the year.

Pam was propped against the headboard of her bed. A pencil was in her hand, a notebook on her lap, a textbook beside her. Wary as ever at John’s appearance, she held the pencil more tightly. “Not bad. She’s mellowed, I think. Or maybe I’m just getting used to her style.”

“That was a nice paper you wrote for her last week.”

“You read it?”

He nodded. “You left it on top of your books in the kitchen. I always liked Steinbeck.
The Grapes of Wrath
was long—all my friends complained—but it was my favorite.”

“I liked it, too.”

“That came through in the paper. You write well, Pam. Clear and concise. You organize your thoughts nicely.”

She nodded her thanks and looked down at her notebook. She felt awkward, not quite sure if he was being patronizing and in any case not knowing what to say or do.

“I got a call from Jennifer’s mother before.” As Pam looked up at him, he went on, “She wondered if we’d reached a decision on spring break. You didn’t tell me they invited you to their villa on Nevis.”

“I didn’t tell you because I don’t want to go. Jennifer started mentioning it last fall, and she won’t let it rest. I’ve given her every excuse in the book.”

“So I gathered. Her mother said that if I was worried, she’d see that you put in some time every day studying so you’ll make the honor roll.” He arched a brow. “That’s going a little too far, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but I didn’t know what else to say.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

She began to doodle on her notebook. “Jennifer’s been getting on my nerves lately. She’s so silly sometimes and we’re not that close anymore. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to use her to get to the Caribbean, when I wouldn’t even want to go on a weekend trip to New York with her.”

“How about a weekend trip to New York with me? I thought I’d go down to see Hillary. We could do some shopping, maybe take in a show. What do you think?”

Pam didn’t know what to think. He’d never offered to take her away before. She searched his face for some sign of teasing or sarcasm or even treachery, but he looked perfectly sincere. “Uh, won’t I be in the way? I mean, you’ll want to spend time with Hillary.”

“I could take a suite at the Pierre. If you want, we could even go down to Palm Beach from there. I can always drum up some business while you lie in the sun.”