“I hated leaving the house. So when Sunday rolled around, I would delay the inevitable as long as possible. My grandfather was already at the church, preparing for his sermon, I guess. That left my grandmother to deal with me. I would pretend to be sick. I would say I had a horrendous headache. When I started my period, I would say I had terrible cramps and couldn’t get out of bed. They blamed it on me being a teenager and ‘going through a phase,’” Jen said with a smile. “I’m certain they were terrified I was going to turn into my mother.”
“But that wasn’t the case?”
Jen laughed. “No. I had no friends. They were in no danger of me following in my mother’s footsteps and falling into bad company.” She shrugged. “I missed having friends, but I guess I didn’t
know
I missed it.”
“Hard to miss something you never had?”
“Yes. It wasn’t until I was in college and made a few friends that I understood it all. As much as I made fun of the wallflower book I read, it did prompt me to make some changes. In my clothes, mainly.” She grinned. “And to tell them my first major lie. I told them I broke my glasses and needed new ones. I conveniently did this on Sunday when I was heading back to Lubbock. I couldn’t do without glasses, and even they wouldn’t send me out in public with them taped together.”
“So they gave you money?” Ryan guessed.
“Yep. And I spent it on contacts instead of glasses. My one and only act of rebellion, for which they were very, very angry with me.”
Ryan looked into those blue eyes, wondering if that was the reason for their unique color. Jen must have sensed her question and shook her head.
“No. I had eye surgery,” she said. “Lasik. I no longer need contacts or glasses.”
“Your eyes are...beautiful,” Ryan said quietly. “I’m glad the color is not the result of artificial lenses.”
“Thank you. I have my father’s eyes. I don’t know who he is. My mother claims she doesn’t either.” Jen turned away. “When I was younger, I always thought that would be how I’d find him. By his eyes.”
“I take it he wasn’t a member of your church then?”
“No. I asked my mother about him a few years ago. She still claims she has no idea who he is.” Jen’s gaze traveled back over the snow-covered mountains, and Ryan wondered if her thoughts were as far away as well. “I was apparently conceived at a drug party where she had sex with as many as seven different guys.”
Again, Ryan didn’t know what to say. For as much as she wanted to run away from her family name, at least she knew who her family was. She had no consoling words to offer Jen, so she said nothing. She heard Jen sigh before she turned back around.
“How in the world did I get off on that subject?”
Ryan gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You’re habitually late.”
Jen laughed. “Yes. I’m late and I get lost.” She held out both hands and moved them up and down. “It’s a right and left thing. I have two lefts, apparently.”
“Well, so you don’t get lost around here, do you want to go on a hike with us? The wind has died down. This is probably as warm as we can expect it today.”
Jen nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I’d like that.”
***
Jen struggled to keep up, Ryan and the dogs moving ahead of her on the trail that snaked between the trees. At least, she thought it was a trail. With all the snow, she had no idea how they knew where they were going.
“You okay back there?”
“I’m out of shape.”
“It’s the altitude.”
“Okay,” she gasped. “We can use that excuse.” Ryan stopped, letting her catch up. Jen grabbed her arm and leaned on her, breathing heavily. “You could at least pretend to be winded,” she said.
Ryan laughed, then opened her mouth and gave an exaggerated gasp for air. “How’s that?”
“Thank you. I feel so much better now.”
“You could come with us every day, you know. By the time you leave here, you could run a marathon.”
“Oh yes, that’s
always
been a goal of mine,” she said with a smirk. “Is this one of your normal routes?”
“Yeah. The snow is not as thick here in the trees. These are mostly ponderosa pines. Up around the cabin, it’s mostly spruce and fir,” she said. She then pointed to a clearing on their left. “In the summer, that’s a beautiful meadow. It’s covered in wildflowers. In the evenings, we hike down here and watch the elk grazing.”
“They’re not scared of the dogs?”
“We don’t get that close.” She turned, pointing back from where they’d come. “You can’t tell it now, but there’s a rock outcropping there. We watch from up there.”
Jen thought it was amusing that Ryan referred to “we” when talking about herself and the dogs. Of course, when you lived alone and they were your only companions, she supposed their roles in her life were more than that of a pet. She followed Ryan’s gaze to Sierra and Kia, seeing the affection in her eyes as she watched them playing like children in the snow. Jen enjoyed their antics too. While her grandparents had had a dog, he wasn’t what she would call a pet; he never once set foot inside their house. He wasn’t a part of the family, not like Sierra and Kia were.
“Why don’t you want to get married?”
Jen looked at Ryan, startled by the question. “Where in the world did that come from?”
Ryan shrugged. “You’ve been up here nearly two weeks now and you haven’t mentioned him since that first time. You know, the guy who wants to marry you?”
Jen laughed. “Brad.” Her smile faded. “We’ve e-mailed twice. Shouldn’t that tell us something?” She didn’t really want to talk about Brad. If they did, she would start dissecting their relationship—again—trying to put her finger on what was troubling her. Truth was, the month-long workshop, being sequestered, so to speak, was not only to hone her skills at writing. It was also going to afford her some alone time to examine and truly assess her feelings for Brad.
“So what’s the deal?”
Jen pulled her cap off and tousled her hair. Standing in the sun like they were, it was almost balmy. She turned her gaze to Ryan, putting voice to her thoughts. “I’m afraid.”
Ryan nodded. “You want to talk about it?”
Jen gave her a quick smile as she twisted her cap between her fingers. “I don’t know if it’s...real,” she said. “I don’t know...I mean, how do you know if you’re truly in love with someone? Shouldn’t there be more than this?”
“More than what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like—and this is so adolescent—but there are no fireworks,” she said, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.
“No Fourth of July when he kisses you?”
Jen smiled and turned away from her. “No. But I don’t know if that’s what I mean. It’s just, it seems like there should be
more
. So I don’t know if it’s me, or if this is all there is.” She shrugged again. “Maybe there isn’t more. But if there is, then this isn’t what I want.” She laughed. “I know I’m not making any sense,” she said. She turned, meeting Ryan’s eyes expectantly. “I want more.”
“Well, I’m certainly no expert on relationships,” Ryan said. “My experience is with Megan, remember. But if you’re questioning it, then I’d guess that you’re not in love with him.”
“In love. That’s so ambiguous, isn’t it?” She pulled her gaze from Ryan, scanning the white terrain around them instead. “Brad and I were friends,” she said. “There was never any hint of...of sexual feelings between us. At least, not for me. We were just friends. I don’t even remember when or how we started dating. In fact, I think we had two or three or even four dates before he kissed me.” She looked back at Ryan, wondering why she was acknowledging the failings of her relationship to her. “It wasn’t...it wasn’t spectacular. But there was nothing else for me. Certainly nothing for me to compare it to. He was it. I think I was afraid of other guys. I was afraid of the uncertainty of it. Brad was safe. I knew Brad, I knew what to expect. Back then, that was important to me.” Sierra leaned against her leg and she reached down, ruffling her dark fur. “I had been so sheltered, I needed that safety net,” she said. “But I’ve changed so much since then. I’ve grown. I’m not the same person. And I don’t think he’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with.” As soon as she said the words out loud, she knew they were true. She smiled sadly. “I guess I just answered my own question. I love him. I care about him.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m just not
in
love with him. I can’t marry him.”
“Have you told him any of this?”
“No. Not quite so bluntly. I have questioned him as to whether he’s sure he’s happy with me. He says he is.”
“Has he asked if you’re happy with him?”
Jen shook her head. “I guess he just assumes that I am. I wouldn’t say that I’m terribly unhappy,” she said. “I think I’ve just been content with it all.” She met Ryan’s steady gaze, holding it. “I don’t miss him. I don’t miss that familiarity of having him in my life. I don’t miss our phone calls. I don’t miss our dinner dates. What I do miss is the friendship we had way back when.”
“If you’re not happy, you should tell him before he pops the question. Then it’s just going to get awkward.”
“I know. I haven’t known what to tell him until now,” she admitted. “I think, being out here, away from everything, away from our friends, put it in perspective. All of our friends are mutual. All of them. I couldn’t talk to any of them. Well, except Cheryl. She’s my closest friend. She works at Anasazi Press. That’s where I met her.” Jen smiled. “Back then, when I first started there, I was terribly shy. It’s a miracle I made it through the interview,” she said with a quick laugh. “I had a really hard time talking to people. But anyway, I think she suspects that I’m not happy. She knows I don’t want to get married.” She pictured Cheryl’s easy smile; she was one of the few people she actually did miss.
“So I guess getting stuck by an avalanche has had some benefit then,” Ryan said with a smile.
“For me, yes. I don’t know what you’re getting out of it though.”
“Besides breakfast, you mean?”
“Well, there’s that,” she said.
“Oh, it hasn’t been bad,” Ryan said. “I have actually enjoyed your company.”
Jen was surprised by that statement. Pleasantly surprised. During the first few days, she was certain Ryan was cursing herself for rescuing her. But now, two weeks later, they’d settled into an easy friendship. At least, for her it was easy.
“Thank you. And for being a hermit and someone who doesn’t like people, you’ve been a most excellent host.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a chattering squirrel perched on a pine limb. Jen couldn’t tell if it was fussing at them or the dogs. “It’s beautiful. What kind is it?”
“Abert’s squirrel,” Ryan said. “Or tassel-eared, as it’s most commonly called. We’ve apparently interrupted lunch.” Ryan started walking again, and the dogs immediately ran ahead of her. Jen followed, glancing back once to look at the squirrel, which continued its tirade.
Jen was tapping away on her laptop. Ryan watched, staring as Jen’s lips lifted in a smile. Her curiosity got the best of her.
“Are you still working on the exercise I gave you?”
Jen shook her head. “Oh, I finished that. I’m just writing in my journal.”
“A journal, huh?”
“Yes.” Jen glanced at her and shook her head again. “And, no, you may not read it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” she said. “How about your story?”
Jen’s fingers stilled, and she was quiet for a long moment. “It’s not very good,” she finally said. “That’s why I never told you I finished it. I must have started over five times.”
Ryan nodded. “I want to read it later, but first I want you to tell me about it.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were going to critique it. You know, my first writing exercise,” Jen reminded her.
“I will. But I want to get your verbal take on it.”
Jen closed her laptop and tucked her feet under her. Ryan closed hers as well, giving Jen her full attention.
“Okay. I admit it, I had a really hard time with it,” Jen said. “It sounded simple enough when you gave it to me. I mean, shopping spree, how hard can that be?”
“But?”
“But I did like you said. I made her a real person, with a real family. And I told her story.”
“So tell me.”
“Well, first thing she did was...oh, and I named her Carla,” Jen said. “First thing Carla wanted to buy were clothes. New clothes. She’d always had hand-me-downs. She was the youngest of four sisters. So she goes into this expensive shop and is shocked by the prices. She is almost afraid to touch anything. She knows that the thousand dollars won’t go far in there, so she leaves and ends up at a department store. The prices are better, and she finds several things she wants. But each time she picks something up, she thinks that her sisters would like it too and it would be unfair for her to go home with new clothes. So she doesn’t buy any clothes. Then she thinks…jewelry. She’s wearing cheap, over-the-counter earrings, and she sees some pretty gold ones, even some with diamonds. She still can’t justify buying them. She goes to all these different stores, looks at all the things she doesn’t have and wishes she did. But she doesn’t buy a thing. She finally leaves the mall with nothing. Except the thousand dollars.” Jen looked at her expectantly. “Silly, right? I mean, that I couldn’t decide what to buy.”
“Not silly at all. The point of that exercise is to tell you something about yourself. You’d be surprised at how often the story reflects the personality of the writer, despite it being fiction. So what did Carla do with the money?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she gave it to her parents to help with bills. Maybe she split it up between her sisters. Or maybe she put it in a savings account for college,” Jen said with smile. “That would be the sensible thing to do.”
“And the least fun.”
“So where did you come up with that exercise?”
“It was something a professor did when I was in college.” As soon as she said that, she saw questions forming in Jen’s eyes.
“What—” But Jen shook her head. “No. Never mind.”