Snowed In (10 page)

“I don’t know. It just seems like there was a moment,
some
time, when you could have said—”

“Well, there wasn’t, so get over it.”

“Okay, then.” I clapped my gloved hands in front of his face. They didn’t make a sound nearly as loud as I wanted. “I’m over it.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, great.” It just didn’t feel great. “So what are we doing here?” I asked.

“We’re going cross-country skiing, and I’m 113

going to show you something.”

“Could you be any more enthusiastic about it?” He released a deep breath that would have fogged all the windows in my dad’s Hummer.

“Okay, look,” he said. “I mean, I’ve got a girlfriend, you have a date, but we can still be friends, right?”

Could we? I’d been friends with lots of guys.

Dated lots of guys. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d only go out with him a time or two . . .

okay, maybe three times. All right, maybe four.

Four tops. But he did have a girlfriend. So he wasn’t dateable, but I did like him.

I nodded. “Yeah, okay. We can be friends.”

“Friends share things. This thing I want to show you is really neat. You’re gonna love it. And like I said, I went to a lot of trouble to fix lunch. So let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

“Okay.” I could do that. I could force myself to have fun.

He jerked his head to the side. “Let’s go then.

We’re burning daylight. Isn’t that what they say in Texas?”

“Not anyone I know.”

After a while we left the road. Josh climbed up a snowy embankment and reached back for me.

114

While I was wearing gloves, he wasn’t. I could feel the strength in his hand as he pulled me up. I really didn’t want to notice how strong he was. Or how big his hand was. Or that it was probably warm and I wouldn’t mind feeling it against my cheek.

I guess we were officially in the natural part of the island, no longer the town. We were surrounded by leafless trees, occasional evergreens, and lots and lots of snow. I didn’t know how anything survived here, but I’d seen pictures of the island in summertime and it was lush and green.

So survival definitely happened.

And while I found this much snow a little disorienting, I had to admit that I found it beautiful as well.

“I sorta hate to ruin this by trampling through it,” I said.

“People do it all the time. If you look around, you’ll see other tracks. Besides, more snow will eventually fall to cover it up.”

“You know, where I used to live we might have one day, maybe two, of snow all winter. If that. And most of the time, it stayed on the ground only a couple of hours. Some years it never snows. And it never stays looking this pretty. I’ve never known a winter like this.”

“Never known a Wynter like me, either, I bet.” 115

His eyes were sparkling and I laughed. “No, I never have.”

All the awkwardness or irritation or whatever it was that had settled in between us seemed to melt away.

He showed me how to put on the skis, with the toe jammed into place, the heel free. Then he demonstrated the sliding motion of cross-country skiing. Even with the ski poles, I found it hard to keep my balance. Josh grabbed me when I almost toppled—twice. To his credit, he didn’t laugh either time.

When he thought I had the hang of it, he led the way toward wherever it was we were going.

A small part of me—okay, a large part—was glad that it was just the two of us. Not that I wanted Nathalie to be sick. It was just that I’d really started to like Josh. I was comfortable around him. And I liked watching the way he moved through the woods.

Every now and then he’d stop and wait for me to catch up.

“Just take your time; we’re not racing,” he said when I arrived nearly breathless. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“You’re not even breathing hard,” I said, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.

116

“I do this a lot. A few times a week. It’s great exercise.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Oh, yeah. Come on. It’s not that much farther.” I nodded, determined to tough it out. I wasn’t quite as cold anymore. As a matter of fact, I was getting warm and was considering shedding a layer or two.

And I was glad that we weren’t racing, because it gave me a chance to appreciate the tranquility of our surroundings.

We passed an old military cemetery, marked by an arch above the gate. The spikes of the picket fence were visible, but very few headstones were.

“I know this is probably weird,” I called out to Josh, “but I like walking through old cemeteries.” He turned to face me. “It’s not weird at all, but it would be kinda hard to walk through there today.”

I nodded. “In the spring, maybe. I’ll still be here.”

“We can hike here then. We’re actually on a pretty clearly marked trail. It’s just not real obvious now because of all the snow, but it’s easy to get here.”

“I like reading old headstones.”

“Some of the ones in there are really old, like 117

from when Britain and the colonies were at war.

Not all the graves are clearly marked anymore.”

“So you don’t know who’s buried there?”

“Not really.”

“That’s sad.”

“The Preservation Society puts flags on the graves on Memorial Day.”

“Everyone here is into history, huh?”

“Pretty much.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s not too much farther. We’ll eat first.”

“You went to a lot of trouble for
this
?” I asked incredulously.

We were sitting on a covered stone picnic table near a natural stone arch. Through it, we had a beautiful view of the lake.

Josh had put a folded quilt on top of the table, which we were sitting on since, even with the overhead covering, snow had managed to find its way in and was piled around the bench seats. And even with the quilted padding beneath us, my butt was still cold. Although after our trek over the snow, the rest of me was actually kind of warm.

I held up the pre-packaged pimento cheese sandwich and repeated, “For
this
?” Josh grinned and tossed a bag of sour cream and onion chips into my lap. “I didn’t say it was 118

anything elaborate.”

“You gave the impression it was something you’d
cooked yourself
.”

“I put a lot of thought into which items to buy.”

Laughing, I shook my head. Did he seriously think that counted?

He pulled out a Thermos, poured hot chocolate into the mug-shaped top, and handed it to me. It was warm and really good.

“You redeemed yourself,” I told him.

“Even better than that.” He took out a bag of miniature marshmallows. He scooped out a few and dropped them in the mug.

I watched the steam rise, thinking that a guy who went to the trouble to bring not only hot chocolate but marshmallows really was something special.

I’d never been one to envy a girl because of her boyfriend. But right now I was sorta thinking that Nathalie had it really good.

Not that I should have been thinking about Josh at all, or comparing him to anyone, or envy-ing the girl he’d hooked up with.

So I went straight to a topic that was totally boring but would at least stop me from thinking about how much I liked sitting in the cold with 119

Josh. I didn’t want to even think about how much more I’d like it in the summer.

“I’m used to lazy picnics,” I said. “But I’m guessing we’re not going to dawdle here, are we?”

“Not really. There’s a limestone cavern over there that I want to show you.”

“Is it safe?”

“No, Ash, it’s incredibly dangerous. That’s the reason I want to eat first. In case it’s our last meal.” I decided to totally ignore the fact that he called me Ash, which only my best friends did.

“You want your last meal to be pimento cheese?”

He grinned. “Nah, I’d want it to be steak. So I guess we’d better survive.”

He took the mug from me, gulping down a good deal of the hot chocolate and the marshmallows that were melting on top. It felt like a really intimate thing to do—sharing the mug—but I understood his not wanting to weigh his backpack down with a bunch of mugs.

He poured more hot chocolate and dropped more marshmallows into the mug before handing it back.

“Thanks,” I said. “So you must do this a lot.

You seem to have the routine down.”

“Whether I’m hiking or skiing I always get 120

hungry, so yeah, I always make sure I bring something to eat.” He dug into his backpack and brought out a package of cupcakes. Since he wasn’t wearing gloves, I was surprised he had enough dexterity left in his cold hands to open it and hand me one.

“You’re not really into home cooking, are you?” I asked.

“No. Are you?”

I shook my head. “Mom nixed the bed-and-dinner idea, by the way—for that very reason.

Dinner is way more complicated to cook than breakfast.”

Grinning, he shook his head. “Guess you could always hire someone to cook breakfast.”

“Now that’s an idea.” I bit into the cupcake and chewed. “I don’t guess y’all have a school football team.”

He gave me a really broad grin. “I can’t believe you really say
y’all
.”

“Well, I do. Football?”

“No team. Football is really big in Texas, isn’t it?”

“Everything is really big in Texas, but yeah, football is king.”

“Seemed like it in
Friday Night Lights
.”

“You bet. So are there any athletics here at all?”

“Sure. We’re not the only island around here.

121

Plus some nearby harbor towns have small schools, too. We play in the Northern Lights League—soccer, baseball, and volleyball.”

“Are you on any of the teams?”

“I’m on all of them. How ’bout you? You play any sports?”

“No, but I’m big into going to games.”

“That’s great. We can use all the cheering fans we can get.”

I took a sip of the hot chocolate, feeling the warm mist tickle my nose for a millisecond before it cooled. “I have to confess, I’m a little nervous about going to such a small school.”

“
Big
schools in Texas?”

“Not all of them,” I said. “But mine is . . . was.

Whatever. Anyway, we had over a thousand kids in my class.”

He shook his head. “See, I don’t know if I’d like that. You could get lost with a school that big.”

“But a school so small . . .”

“I think you’ll like it. Everyone knows everyone.”

“It’s gonna be weird.”

“But you’ll adjust. I mean, look how well you’re adjusting to snow. No one would guess you’d never cross-country skied before.” 122

“Yeah, right.” I didn’t bother to hide my skep -

ticism.

The cold was seriously seeping through the quilt onto my butt, and a shudder went through me. I downed the rest of the lukewarm chocolate.

Nothing around here stayed heated for long.

“So where is this cavern, and why would I want to see it?” I asked.

“Because you have a thing for rodents.”

“I like cute little mice—Disney mice. Rodents, rats, no.”

“We’ll see,” he said and shoved himself off the table.

“You know, live rodents, they just don’t appeal to me,” I emphasized.

“Trust me. These will.”

123

10

We climbed up a short embankment, leaving our skis and backpack at the bottom. Josh carried a large flashlight. That was reassuring. I’d been in caves before, but always with a tour guide or a clearly marked path.

I was amazed to see a dark gaping hole in the side of the knoll or hill or whatever it was officially called. I wasn’t exactly on a first-name basis with nature.

“I’m surprised it’s not covered up with snow,” I said. Although maybe it had been and a bear had shoved his way out. Did bears live on this island?

“It was this morning,” Josh said. “I came earlier to check it out and make sure it was safe.”

“Good to know we were never in danger of pimento cheese being our last meal.” I glanced around. We were totally alone. Not a soul in sight.

“Should we be doing this?” I asked.

124

“Of course not, but that’s never stopped me before.” He switched on the flashlight and walked to the entrance of the cavern. “Come on.” He crawled inside. My survival instincts told me to stay exactly where I was, but I was curious.

Besides, two fools were probably better than one.

If he got into some sort of trouble in there, he’d need me to help get him out.

I crept in after him. It smelled dank and it felt like being inside a freezer. It was also very slippery, like walking on a thin layer of ice.

I could see Josh up ahead, the beam from the flashlight creating wavering light over the glistening walls. Suddenly he stopped and turned, direct-ing the light toward me and holding out his hand.

It was so dark, except for where the flashlight directed its light, that I had a
Blair Witch Project
moment. What was I getting myself into?

I cautiously moved forward and put my hand in his. He pulled me through the opening. We entered a space just large enough that we could stand upright.

“There,” he whispered, pointing the flashlight toward the ceiling, which was only inches above our head.

As a carpenter, maybe he was into studying nature’s various architectural wonders. This ceiling, 125

though, looked strange, uneven . . .

“Are those—?”

“Bats,” he said in a low voice, but he sounded triumphant.

While I was trying to decide whether to be amazed or terrified, I settled for being put out.

“Bats are not rodents.”

“I know, but don’t they look like mice with wings? Pretty cool, huh?”

“Unless they wake up, swoop down, and attack us. Don’t they carry rabies?”

“That’s an old wives’ tale,” he said. “A very miniscule percentage actually have rabies. Watch this.”

Reaching up, he unhooked a bat from its perch.

“Are you insane?” I whispered.

“Shh. It’s okay. They’re hibernating.” He hung it on the sleeve of his jacket and held it up to my face. “Is that awesome or what?”