couldn’t believe how fast it passed. Within minutes, it
seemed, Fiona and the kids were dressed in the clothes
in which they’d arrived and were ready to set out, purses
and bookbags in hand. Their faces glowed with eagerness. Fiona was back in teacher mode, worrying that they’d forgotten something, thanking him effusively as
if he were their rescuer and not the man who’d kissed
her senseless barely sixty minutes ago.
Next thing he knew, he’d started up his 4Runner and
driven them in two separate groups up to the van at the
top of the hill. Once they were out and waiting for Fiona
to unlock, their voices rang out as they shared plans.
“Man, I’m glad I’ve got TiVo.” Hopper slapped his
gloved hands together to keep them warm. “I’m going
to watch big-screen, plasma TV for eight straight hours.”
Several wanted to get together with friends. Tabitha
apparently had a boyfriend who was going to be, like,
so glad to see her. Movies, the mall, their cars.
Dieter was hoping to go skiing. “It’s going to be
awesome, ” he assured everyone.
Climbing into the van, Tabitha gave him a look over
her shoulder. “You haven’t had enough snow?”
As usual, Willow and Erin stayed quiet. Erin
because—John didn’t know. Because she was above
their juvenile excitement? And Willow because she had
no friends?
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had plenty.
John stood beside Fiona as the kids piled in. His hip
was giving savage warning that he’d suffer later for
today’s activities, but he needed to see them off.
Sure, he mocked himself. That was it. Didn’t have
anything to do with his unwillingness to say goodbye
to Fiona.
He couldn’t tell from her face whether she was sorry
at all to be leaving. She’d enjoyed kissing him, he didn’t
doubt that. She was intrigued by him. Maybe he had
some kind of mystique, the physically and emotionally
scarred veteran. Could be she even liked him.
But she wasn’t stealing anguished looks his way, or
asking if he’d call. She seemed focused on her students,
promising that their cell phones would work in about
an hour or two and they could call home.
“Right?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Once you pass Danson.”
“Seat belts on,” Fiona ordered, as the kids already in
the van squabbled about who sat where.
“That was my seat.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Because I get carsick if I’m not by the window.”
Amy, of course.
“Amy,” Fiona interjected, “there’s an empty seat in
the back by the window. You can have it. No, Dieter,
you’re not sitting in front. School rules.”
“But you let me…”
“When I needed another pair of eyes. Now I don’t.
In back.”
He whined, but good-humoredly, not as if he’d
actually expected to be able to sit in front. He was just
giving Ms. Mac a hard time.
John stood there dumbly thinking, But I was just
kissing her. We just heard the kids yelling, Ms. Mac! Ms.
Mac! We hear the snowplow!
They couldn’t already be leaving.
They were. Doors slammed, and, keys dangling from
her mittened hand, she turned to face him.
“Thank you again.”
“Don’t keep thanking me,” he said, rough and suddenly angry. “I did what any decent person would have done.”
“But you took really good care of us. I can’t say
thank you for that?”
Her astonishment and hurt helped him recognize his
anger for what it really was—panic.
“Yeah. Yeah, you can,” he said gruffly. “You’re welcome.”
Her gaze became shyer. “If you get down to Portland…”
He nodded, took a moment to find his voice. “I’ll call.”
“Good.” Fiona gave him a shaky smile. “I’m glad.
And I’ll e-mail when we get home safe and sound.”
He nodded. She’d promised earlier.
“Then…” She hesitated. “For now, goodbye.”
He nodded. “Take it slow.”
“Despite my idiocy the other day, I am a good driver.”
He nodded again. What else could he do? Grab her?