“Maybe my plans don’t look like much to you,” she said. “Maybe it looks like I’m just replacing my Idaho life with a Utah one. But my goal was to get away from my stepfather and my small town, and I did that. I might even have a chance to live my own dream and work in a gallery, something I never could have done in Athol. And I won’t be dependent on you for everything I eat and every bed I sleep on. That’s as important as my dreams.”
Without his anger at himself now roaring through his ears, reason managed to sneak in. She had a dream and she had the chance to pursue it. Even if he could get in the way of that, he wouldn’t want to. One dream of his own life was done; he needed to find a new one. And she was right. He wasn’t even trying to find something. He’d given himself the winter of every skier’s fantasy, and he was going to blow it because he’d decided he couldn’t be happy without Terry to work on.
He had to at least try for something more. He had to make use of his winter hiatus to step away from Terry and see what he wanted to do next, figure out who he was without Terry to work on or Curtis to work with. And he couldn’t hang around Selina, using her as a crutch to distract him from the fact that he was treading water just as much as she had been.
That realization hurt, though not nearly as much as the knowledge that he might not see Selina again. That realization burned.
She turned her face away from him to the waterfalls. Shoshone Falls in winter wasn’t the massive Niagara-like sight he’d been led to believe, but the water cascading over the rocks soothed the rough edges of his soul. The sight was no less beautiful for being different from what he’d expected.
“When we get to Salt Lake and you drop me off at the house with my room, I’ll have reached one of my goals, and I’m on my way to creating new ones. Bigger ones,” she went on. “So maybe achieving just one goal doesn’t look like much to you, but at least I’m not stopping there.”
He nodded slowly. “I get it. It took me awhile, but I get it. And I get that you’re making progress and I’m not. And that I’m relying on you to distract me.” Sadness pulled at him, a sinking feeling that seemed to drag at his muscles and bones. “I guess I need to figure myself out on my own . . . So let’s get you to Salt Lake.”
He put his hand on her back, thinking they would return to the parking lot. Instead, she leaned into him for a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. He laid his head on the top of hers, the smell of hotel shampoo filling his nose. He’d have to avoid staying at that same chain of hotels for the rest of his winter trip because he wouldn’t be able to resist opening the shampoo just so he could smell this moment, remembering her in his arms.
She sniffed a couple of times, and he realized that she was crying. When he was younger, it might have bothered him. Emotions had been scary and code had been clean. But now he understood her strength and admired the way she pushed through her troubles to carve out a life for herself. If crying was a part of that, then he admired that, too.
He didn’t know how long they stood there, but when she finally pulled away, he knew it hadn’t been long enough. She had come into his life like a feather, blown in by the wind, when he needed her strength and she needed his freedom. And she was leaving just as softly.
They walked to the car in silence. In fact, they drove the four hours to Salt Lake City mostly in silence. What was there left to say?
Chapter Eleven
The winter sun was setting as Marc drove them down a series of narrow residential streets lined with bungalows. Selina peered out the window at her new neighborhood—at least for the foreseeable future—trying to read the people who lived in the houses.
In early December, much of the greenery was dead, but there wasn’t any snow to cover up the brown plants and dry grass. There was smog, though. She hadn’t realized that Salt Lake City had so much smog. The gray haze wasn’t the crisp mountain air that she had expected.
“The neighborhood looks nice,” Marc said, sounding relieved.
The last leg of their trip had been four hours of uncomfortable silence, with only minimal talking when they stopped for gas and a snack. Selina hadn’t known what to say, and she suspected Marc hadn’t, either. Now he sounded both reassured and grateful for something to talk about.
Multicolored Christmas lights covered the railings of the porch of the next house, and the light by the front door was on. She looked at the number on the mailbox and took a deep breath. They were really here.
When they pulled to a stop at the curb, the front door opened. A woman of Babe’s age, nearly as thin as Babe was large, walked out. “Selina?” she asked, walking toward them.
Backlit by the setting sun, the woman was hard to see, but her voice sounded kind. Of course, Selina would trust Babe with anything, so any friend of Babe’s had to be good people.
“Yes,” Selina said as she climbed out of the car. “It’s me. And you’re Pam?”