Snow Falls

chapter Eleven



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.”

Ryan laughed. “Was that hard to do? To not ask your question?”

“Yeah. But I’ve decided that you have a right to your privacy and if you don’t want to talk to me about anything personal, then that’s your business. I’m not going to bombard you with questions anytime you do let something slip. Like college,” she added with a smile.

“I’m just not used to talking about myself,” she said. “Talking period.”

“That’s fine,” Jen said, feigning disinterest.

Ryan watched her as she appeared absorbed in reading. She was surprised by the words that spilled out from her. “I’ve been here two years. Before that, I bought an old mining shack at the edge of Aspen. Spent a couple of years fixing it up. But it wasn’t really isolated. Not like here.”

Jen didn’t move or lift her eyes, almost as if she was afraid to move, lest Ryan stop talking.

“I ran into my brother and his entourage on a ski slope one year and decided it was time to move on.”

At this, Jen did lift her head. “Are you estranged from your family?”

“I don’t know if I would call it that,” she said. “We had a bit of a falling out about ten years ago.”

“But you still talk to them? See them?”

“Talk to them? No, not really,” she said with a shake of her head. “I see them. Occasionally.” Because she had obligations, she reminded herself.

“But you’re not estranged?”

Ryan grinned. “That word just seems so melodramatic.”

Jen nodded but didn’t ask anything else about her family. “Why here? Why Lake City?” she asked instead.

“Aspen was...busy. But I wasn’t—” Wasn’t writing. “I wasn’t working,” she said.

“No editing gig there?”

Ryan shook her head. “I wanted someplace where I didn’t have to worry about tourists everywhere but also someplace where I could venture into civilization if I wanted.”

“Again, some hermit you are.”

Ryan was tempted to tell her the whole sordid tale but knew, after this much time, that Jen would probably be pissed to learn she was a writer. Not just a writer, but a Pulitzer Prize winner. Of course, Jen might remember the tabloid stories or have heard them, since she was in the business. She might even be one of those who believed a ghostwriter had actually penned the book. After all, her own family did. Does. Thank goodness, the Pulitzer committee didn’t. They had accepted the proofs she’d presented of her authorship, which had averted the disgrace of having them rescind the award. So no, she certainly did not want to hash all that over again. She stood, taking her laptop to her desk, ending the conversation.

“I’m going to take the dogs out.”


***



Ryan pulled the covers back on the bed, debating whether to turn the lamp off or not. Jen was in the bathroom and had been for an unusually long time. Of course, maybe she was simply avoiding her. Her mood had turned sour, she knew, and she’d stay out with the dogs longer than normal. When she returned, Jen had looked at her warily and Ryan hadn’t explained—or commented on—her abruptness. Thinking about that time in her life always put her in a funk. The betrayal of her family and their total lack of interest in the truth still smarted. She could still hear her mother’s laugh when one of countless reporters had questioned her. “A writer? Catherine? Don’t be ridiculous.” Right, she thought. Catherine Ryan-Barrett couldn’t possibly be talented enough to write a novel. She was an heiress with literary pretensions, nothing more. The tabloids ate it up, and her own mother kept stoking the fire. Any publicity was good publicity, as far as her mother was concerned.

She shook those thoughts away, knowing she had to quit dwelling on them. That had happened a lifetime ago. She needed to live in the present. And right now, that meant checking on her guest.

She paused at the bathroom door, listening. She heard nothing and knocked twice, softly.

“Jen? You okay?”

The door opened slowly, and Jen stood there, tears in her eyes. Ryan frowned, startled by the tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Jen looked down at the floor. “I started my period.”

Ryan hid her smile, not understanding. “I am a woman, you know. I’m familiar with it.”

Jen’s chest heaved with a sob. “I only have one tampon.”

Without thinking, Ryan pulled her into a hug, which only caused more tears. Jen buried her face against Ryan’s chest as she clung to her. It struck her that this was the first physical contact she’d had with anyone in more months than she could remember. It felt good to hold another woman again. Of course, she realized how terribly inappropriate that thought was.

“I have plenty,” Ryan said. “It’s no problem.”

“Yes it is. I’m eating your food. I’m taking up your space. And now I have to bum tampons from you.”

“And all of that is okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Jen murmured. “It just all hit me, I guess.”

Ryan squeezed her tightly, then pulled away. She tipped Jen’s head up with a finger under her chin, those beautiful blue eyes still swimming in tears. Involuntarily, her gaze drifted to Jen’s mouth, and she felt a jolt of arousal. She dropped her hand and stepped away, embarrassed.

Without another word, she went back to the bedroom and clicked off the lamp. Just a few minutes later, Jen came in, pausing at the edge of the bed. Great. Now she’s scared of me again. There was enough moonlight shining in that Ryan could make out her features. She looked like a goddess. After what seemed an eternally long time, Jen moved to her side of the bed. She quietly lifted up the covers, took off her sweatpants, then got in.

Ryan felt like a heel; she didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jen said, her voice quiet in the dark room. “Your past is your past and it’s of no concern to me. It’s shaped who you are, but it’s still the past. If that’s what you’re running from, it’s not any of my business.”

Ryan smiled into the darkness. Innocent Jen had no idea how that hug had affected her. It was just as well. Jen turned her head, looking at her, but there wasn’t enough light for Ryan to read her features.

“The only thing that’s important is right now,” Jen continued. “And the future. So if you don’t ever want to mention anything about your past again, that’s fine with me.”

“I appreciate that. Although I wasn’t really apologizing for my abruptness this afternoon. I was apologizing for...well, for hugging you.”

“Why would you need to apologize for that? I was having a...a moment,” Jen said with a slight laugh. “I needed a hug.”

“A moment, huh? Should I be worried?”

Jen rolled to her side and faced her. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never slept with anyone before. I mean, I haven’t been able to sleep with anyone, share a bed.” She paused for a moment, then continued, her voice quiet. “When I was a kid, at my grandparents’ house, I was the only one. I was homeschooled, I didn’t have friends. There were no sleepovers, slumber parties. And in college, I lived with Miss Ruby. She—”

“The bitter old woman who never smiled?”

“Yes, that one. I certainly never had anyone over there. I lived with her for four years. From there, I moved to Santa Fe. Got my own place.”

“So...Brad?”

“No. I mean, we tried, but—”

“Never?”

“I can’t sleep. I don’t want to call it an anxiety attack, but maybe that’s what it is. I can’t sleep. I can’t even close my eyes. It’s just strange having him in bed, having anyone in bed with me.”

“That must put a damper on your sex life,” she said, although she didn’t really want to talk about Jen’s sex life.

Jen sighed. “We don’t have much of a sex life as it is, so yes, that does have an effect on it. But I just find it odd that I don’t have that same anxiety with you.”

“The first couple of nights, you weren’t exactly bounding into bed,” she reminded her.

Jen laughed. “The first night I think I was more worried about you hacking me into little pieces than I was sleeping with you.”

“And you’re over that now, I hope.”

“Yes. It’s actually kinda nice sleeping with someone.”

“We’ll see there. When you get back home, maybe you can give Brad another try.”

Jen only sighed and rolled again to her back. “Maybe.”