Winter Longing (8 page)
Lindsay leaned on the sink counter. “You know what else is gone?” She paused. “Our money.” I could tell it tore at her to have to admit it. “I had to start work at Oregano’s to help bring in some more.”
Oregano’s was one of only three eateries in Tundra. It was an Italian place that sat on the same small square as Chow’s (the Chinese place), the Blue Walrus Bar, and most of the rest of Tundra’s businesses.
Lindsay’s absence during the past several days clicked into place so snugly that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed sooner. I’d been too wrapped up in my sorrow to see that my best friend was hurting, too. And on top of her own loss, her family was facing a financial crisis.
Tears sprang to my eyes, for once not because of the friend we’d lost. He would have noticed Lindsay’s situation. He wouldn’t have been so self-absorbed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Lindsay pushed away from the sink. “I understand, Winter, I really do. It’s just that . . .”
“You would have normally talked to Spencer about this.”
She shoved her hands in her jeans’ pockets and leaned against the wall. “It’s just that he already knew everything, and my home life isn’t something I want pasted across a billboard, you know?”
“I’m not going to spread it around.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that . . . well, Spencer found out by accident. He heard yelling . . . back when we were in first grade. . . . He saw everything. There was no going back after that. I had to fess up.”
I leaned against the countertop. “What happened?”
“I missed the school bus, and Dad had to leave the Blue Walrus to come get me. Spencer was just walking out of the school when he pulled up and started yelling at me for not getting on the bus on time. ‘You’re so stupid,’ he was shouting. Over and over, right in my face. He reeked like he’d been at the Walrus all day. Probably had been.” She snorted. “Then he went back and made me sit in the truck for three hours while he drank some more.”
My mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.” I’d known Lindsay’s dad had a temper, but this was something much worse. How could I not have suspected? After all, it was Tundra, and secrets didn’t stay secrets for long.
“No one did. No one except my family and Spencer. He’d seen my dad yelling at me, and I thought I’d die of embarrassment.” Her face changed, reddened, as if she were reliving that long-ago day. “Dad sped away from the school that day before Spencer could say anything. I wanted to hide in a hole somewhere and never come out. But when Spencer got to the bookstore, he saw Dad’s truck outside the Walrus.” She stopped, swallowed hard. “He brought me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
My heart broke all over again, for what Lindsay had gone through and because neither of us would know the warmth of Spencer’s kind heart again.
“He stayed and talked to me for a while. It may have been only a few moments, but it felt like more. After that, we talked a lot. I think I might have exploded otherwise.”
I tried to ignore the hurt that she had never confided in me. She’d kept secrets from me when I’d confessed all to her. The moment I’d realized I liked Spencer as more than a friend, I’d shared it with Linds.
I hesitated, almost didn’t ask the question running through my mind. But I wanted to feel closer to Lindsay—and to help her—if I could. “Why does your mom stay married to him?”
“That’s what they call a dysfunctional relationship. He smacks her around; she makes up excuses for why he did it.”
I should have been shocked by the revelation that Dimitri beat Anja, but I wasn’t. It seemed like something he’d do. And Anja didn’t come into town unless she had to, especially not when Dimitri was home from whatever temporary job he’d found somewhere away from Tundra. She stayed close to their small house, fishing, harvesting berries, and doing what she could to supplement the family’s food supplies and meager income. Through necessity, Linds and her brothers had become pretty self-sufficient early on.
I wanted to hug Lindsay, to apologize again, but I sensed that wasn’t what she needed. Already, I could tell she was withdrawing. She didn’t like pity.
She pushed away from the wall and wiped her eyes. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t move as she walked toward the door. I didn’t believe everything was totally healed between us, but at least she’d confided in me. She’d revealed more in the past ten minutes than she had in all the time since the second grade, when we’d become friends. I thought of that day, when she’d punched Drew Chernov in the nose for pushing me around on the playground. She’d been there for me the way Spencer had been there for her. Now it was my turn.
“Linds.”
She turned halfway back toward me. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for trusting me.” I wanted to say more, to tell her that she could confide anything in me, but I held back the words. She knew.
She nodded and went out the door. I waited a few moments before following. I watched her walk away, carrying too heavy a burden for someone her age. She was right. Everything was going to hell.
And I was ready for it to stop.
“Oh, I love Katherine Heigl’s dress,” Lindsay said as the actress arrived at the Oscars.
The fitted, red, one-shoulder Escada evoked old Hollywood. “That classic look fits her. What do you think, Spencer?” I asked, torturing him more with our girliness.
His answer? A loud, faux snore.
I hit him with a pillow from the end of the couch. He responded by grabbing me around the waist and tickling me until I screamed for mercy. When I finally freed myself, for a moment our faces were too close for me to keep the secret of how I loved him.
CHAPTER 9
Fate
had decided to use me as a chew toy. Not only were Lindsay and I on new, tentative ground, but I couldn’t even retreat to my room in peace when I got home.
had decided to use me as a chew toy. Not only were Lindsay and I on new, tentative ground, but I couldn’t even retreat to my room in peace when I got home.
“The Kerrs invited us over for dinner,” Mom said when she stopped by my room on her way in from work.
“I’m really tired.”
She leaned against the doorway to my room. “I know it’s hard right now, but it’s good for you to get out of this room and talk to people.”
“I was in school all day. I talked to people.”
Mom watched me for a moment. “I heard you and Lindsay had a disagreement.”
“We talked. We’re fine.” At least I hoped we were. But I didn’t want to go into details with my mom. It was between Lindsay and me.
She watched me for a couple of moments. “Just remember, I’m here if you want to talk.”
“I know.”
I went to the Kerrs’ for dinner. It ended up being easier to just ride the tide than to try to get out of it. Easy, at least until I saw Jesse. It didn’t matter that he said I shouldn’t be embarrassed about what happened Saturday. I still was.
“Hey,” he said when he came down the stairs. His dark hair, wet from a recent shower, hung to the tops of his shoulders.
“Hey.” Despite our lunch conversation, I could barely meet his eyes. Now I understood more why Lindsay hated to have anyone see her raw, vulnerable side.
All throughout the meal, I couldn’t shake the sense that the topics of conversation were being carefully chosen to avoid any hint of Spencer and the crash. It all felt so . . . wrong. Like it was way too soon to try to move beyond what had happened.
I forced myself to stay in my dining room chair as Jesse helped his stepmom serve dessert. Carrot cake—Spencer’s favorite.
“Excuse me,” I said, as I shoved my chair back and headed for the bathroom.
I’d barely closed the door behind me before the first wave of nausea hit me. I wrapped my arms around my middle and sank onto the side of the tub.
Someone knocked on the door. “Winter, honey, are you okay?” Mom asked.
I forced my voice to sound upbeat. “Yeah, be out in a minute.”
I propped my elbows on my knees and let my head drop into my upturned hands. A warm touch on my shoulder caused me to jerk upright, expecting to see that Mom had slipped quietly into the bathroom.
But no one was there. A chill replaced the warmth of a moment before. I needed to go get some rest.
Not wanting to arouse sympathy, I took several deep breaths and splashed cold water on my face. When I was finished, I opened the door quietly. I expected Mom to be standing outside waiting for me, but instead I heard her and Mrs. Kerr talking in the kitchen.
As I passed the door to the garage, I noticed Jesse throwing darts. I could sneak out and go home, go back into the dining room to face the adults, or slip into the garage with Jesse. Though going home was ideal, I knew it would just cause my parents to worry.
Jesse turned slightly at my entrance, and I dreaded the inevitable question.
He held up a dart. “You play?”
That wasn’t the question.
“Pretty sure the last time I threw a dart was at the spring festival when I was about ten.”
He shrugged. “It’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t very good then.”
He walked toward me and handed me a dart. “You can’t be that bad.”
Hoping to get my mind off, well, everything, I took the dart, aimed, and threw. And missed the dartboard by a good foot.
“So I was wrong. You
are
that bad.”
are
that bad.”
If it wasn’t already so hard to just make it through a day without breaking to pieces, I probably would have laughed. I really was terrible.
“Told you.”
“Hold it like this.” He held up a dart, pointing it forward between his thumb and first two fingers.
I tried to imitate his method and let another dart fly. This one came closer to the board but had less force. It stuck pitifully in the surrounding corkboard for a couple of seconds before falling out.
Jesse struggled to hide a smile.
“I think I’ll go home now.”
He stepped toward me with his arm extended. “Wait. Here, let me show you again.” He grabbed another dart and turned me to face the dartboard. When he placed the dart in my hand, he didn’t let go. Instead, he stayed behind me, lined up his view of the dartboard next to mine, and lifted my hand.
I held my breath, not because I was concentrating, but because Jesse was standing so close. He meant nothing by it, I was sure, but he was just so . . . there.
“Concentrate on the bull’s-eye,” he said, his breath hot on my ear. He guided my arm back. “Now just go straight forward with more strength than last time.”
Strength? I had none left. Wasn’t that much obvious? Still, I focused on the small red circle in the center of the dartboard. I let the dart fly, and it actually stuck in the board, two rings out from the middle.
“Hey, much better,” Jesse said, still too close.
I stepped away, as casually as I could. “Guess I’m marginally less dangerous now.”
When I glanced at Jesse, I caught him watching me as if he couldn’t figure something out. After a moment, he broke eye contact and sauntered over to the air-hockey table. He leaned against it, and when he looked up at me again, the perplexed look was gone.
“Sorry about dinner. I told Brenda it was too soon, but she really wanted to try to help.”
I shifted my feet at the change of topic. “It’s okay. It was nice of her.” Even though Jesse was right. And his eerily accurate perception surprised me.
“If you want to go, I’ll tell your parents you left to do homework or something.”
I eyed him, trying to figure out this unexpected side of Jesse. He wasn’t acting like a guy who was being nice just because his parents were forcing him to. Or because we were neighbors. And when he’d been standing behind me, it’d felt . . . I didn’t know exactly how to describe it. Charged, maybe.
But that could have been my imagination, just like the warmth in the bathroom. Maybe parts of my brain were beginning to short-circuit.
“Homework is pretty far down my list.”
What was wrong with me? Jesse was giving me the out I’d wanted only a few minutes before, and I wasn’t taking it. But as much as I wanted to hide from the world, part of me dreaded going back to my house. What sense did it make to want to wrap myself in memories of Spencer and avoid them at the same time?
Not sure what to do, I picked up a couple of darts and practiced my aim. Jesse didn’t say anything as we fell into a rhythm of taking turns throwing. He beat me every time, but I didn’t care.
“It was the cake.” The words tumbled down from my brain and out my mouth. I didn’t know why I said it beyond the fact that it was strangely easy to talk to Jesse, even with the embarrassment still lingering.
“What?”
I took careful aim with a dart and hit the ring outside the bull’s-eye. “The carrot cake earlier,” I said. “It was Spencer’s favorite. I made him one the day before. . . .” My voice faltered.
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