it was a safe route. And my principal said he was
taking responsibility for the decision, too. So I guess
I still have a job. One I’ll be back at tomorrow
morning at eight-thirty sharp.
Too chatty? Fiona reread and decided what she’d
written thus far was okay. Now to wind it up on a
friendly note that didn’t assume anything.
I’ll put in a request for some reimbursement for you,
as I promised. We ate an awful lot of food! And no,
I’m not saying thank you again, because I know you’d
hate that. Just…take care. And please do call me if you
get down to the Portland area. We could go to the
multiplex and watch three movies in a row if you want.
Of course, she could think of other things they might
prefer to do.
Her fingers wanted to type “Love, Fiona,” but she
made herself end with just her name. Not letting herself
agonize over what she’d written, Fiona hit Send.
Staring at the screen, her chest feeling hollow, she
wondered if she’d ever hear from John again.
JOHN NEEDED TO SHOP in the worst way, but he held
off going until Tuesday morning. Just didn’t feel like
making the trip, he tried to tell himself, but knew
better. He wanted to hear from Fiona, and she wouldn’t
have a chance to e-mail until Monday evening.
The small public library had one computer for private use. When he arrived, it was occupied by a white-haired woman who was apparently receiving her first
lesson in Web surfing from the librarian. She kept
saying, “Oh, my!” and then, “Oh, dear, what did I do?”
Hiding his impatience, he browsed the small collection of new titles, choosing a couple to check out. About the time he was ready to explode, the old lady finally
pushed back her chair, babbling on about what an experience that had been and how now she could understand the fascination the Web had for her grandkids.
“I feel like I’m so behind the times,” she told the
librarian as he slid into the chair in front of the computer
before she was two feet away.
It had been a while since he’d bothered to check his
e-mail, and he found he had quite a few. A couple of
buddies back for another tour in Iraq had sent e-mails,
both short, obscene and funny. He had no trouble reading
between the lines, though, and like an old-time, flickering movie projector, he caught scenes of them in uniform, one carrying a woman in full, blood-soaked robes who
was obviously dead, the other running with his pants
around his ankles when a bomb landed beside the latrine.
But he wrote back in the same tone, keeping to
himself the nightmares and flashbacks, instead telling
them about the snowstorm and the pretty women he
regularly had as guests at the lodge.
Then he skipped over the e-mails from his mother
and his sisters, clicking on the one from Mizzmack.
Cute, he thought, letting her kids choose her screen
name.
His heart hammered as he read her short e-mail, then
hungrily reread it. It sounded just like her. He could
almost hear her friendly voice, amusement quivering in
it. See? she seemed to be saying. I managed to thank
you while making a point of not thanking you.
He was glad she wasn’t going to be in trouble for
making the wrong decision and getting stranded. She
clearly loved her job.
John hit Print so he could take her e-mail home
with him and read it again. In the meantime, he wrote
back, thanking her for letting him know they’d made
it and saying,
Do you think there are three movies at the multiplex
worth seeing?
Then,
It occurs to me that I can’t very well go anywhere
over Thanksgiving. I’m expecting a full house here
at the lodge. I’ll let you know when it looks like I can
get down there.
Cop-out? he wondered, remembering the relief he’d
felt when he realized going to his parents for the holiday
just wasn’t practical. But it was true that his rooms were
one hundred percent booked over Thanksgiving weekend.
He needed to get going now; a couple was scheduled to arrive this afternoon, two more groups tomorrow. He didn’t intend to put any of them in Fiona’s room. He wanted to think of it as her room for as long
as possible. He typed,
Hope Dieter and Willow’s romance lasts. They both