On Christmas Day, Dave and I strapped on snowshoes and hiked out into the forest. The gray clouds sent down an occasional riot of flurries, and between that dark sky and the blanketed ground the world seemed to be holding me like a firefly between two hands. In silence I followed Dave down the trail we both knew. His green jacket and dark hair collected a dusting of flakes that melted slowly, and his hiking pole made a steady
He stopped in a clearing I knew well. Hidden under a drift was a campfire ring; the fallen tree was a place to sit, as were the two slabs of stone nearby. In the summer months the staff came out here to spend time together, away from the fire pit closer to the lodge that was used nightly by our guests. Nearby was a waterfall that created a pool to wade in on the hottest days, but in the winter it ran dry, and the silence of its absence confused my ears like a distant hum. Through a break in the trees I could see the mountains—the ski trails twisting down the north face, the march of the lifts uphill, the little buildings dotting the peak. But this place felt a world apart from the comfortable resort life. The longer I stayed in college, the more I suspected that I belonged out here instead—not just as a summer job until I earned a degree that could secure me something better, but for good. When I had agreed to marry Cade, even as I said yes to him, this was the thought at the back of my mind—
Dave pulled off his gloves and flexed his fingers, then blew into his hands. He nudged me with his elbow and lifted his chin to indicate the woods beyond. Two does stared back at us, their ears alert and tails high. The smaller one eased and nudged a patch of brush for a moment, then followed the other as she bolted into the forest.
“Jill, I’m going to be honest with you,” said Dave.
The sound of my real name spoken by him jarred me to attention.
“I think you ought to think hard about Cade,” he continued. “I know—you’re giving him a pass on this one because you understand about somebody being embarrassed by their family. I remember how your mom felt about her folks, so I know where that comes from. But if Cade felt like he had to choose between them and you, I think he made a bad decision.”
“That’s not it. He doesn’t want me to have to deal with all their drama, is all. He means well.”
He turned his head toward me and squinted, as if trying and failing to see things the way I did. “He’s been with you a year now. You told him you wanted to go, and he knew you didn’t have anyplace else to go, either.” Dave shook his head. “In my opinion he failed a loyalty check, and that means something. You deserve to be with somebody who has more empathy for you. Somebody who’s always on your side.”
I shook my own head slowly, but Dave wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t already crossed my mind. I didn’t want to hear him speaking it aloud, and so I said nothing. Because for over a week now I had been waiting for my body to give a sign that everything was ordinary—that our long Thanksgiving weekend at Stan’s had left us with a romantic memory and not an immediate problem. I’d postponed taking a pregnancy test because I feared the answer, and dreaded the possibility that Cade would receive the news and leave me behind on Christmas anyway. That would be more than I could bear. My mother had taught the women she sponsored about taking a searching and fearless moral inventory of themselves to figure out who they really were; it was the Fourth Step officially, and a good idea for anybody, she often said.
“It’s getting darker,” I said. The temperature was dropping and the air felt sharp and clear, with the smell of new snow enlivening it. “We should go back.”
“Don’t be mad at me. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“I’m not mad,” I told him, and it was true. After this week, once Cade was back, we could let the situation unfold in an organized way, unimpeded by his brother-in-law. I wasn’t afraid that Cade would shirk his responsibility. I only feared that I would decide he was unworthy of it, and if that was the case, I didn’t want to know.
Chapter 4
It’s not as if it was the first time this had happened to me. Senior year of high school, barely more than a month after I lost my virginity, my girlfriend Piper pulled me aside during open lunch in the courtyard and told me she was pregnant. She always wore a lot of eye shadow that made her eyes look huge, and so all the fear in them came right at me.
I’m not sure what my excuse was at twenty-one. Overconfidence: it’s a problem. It’s probably why, when Jill came to me and told me
It definitely wasn’t like that when it happened with Piper, when for the first few days I was in denial, mulling over all the reasons it wasn’t even possible, along with these spikes of cold-sweat, hyperventilating panic. I’d envision this showdown in the living room with my folks, my dad grabbing me by the collar and shoving me up against the wall like he used to do with Elias, my mom all stoic, but radiating utter disappointment. After about a week I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove down to the U-Store-It to talk to my brother alone. I didn’t know who else to go to.
When I got there the parking lot was empty except for Elias’s green Jeep, which was a relief. If he’d been driving the van I would have suspected my brother-in-law, Dodge, would be there, too, but the Jeep was Elias’s own, and he didn’t want Dodge Powell to so much as breathe in the smell of its air freshener. I parked next to it and went around back to find him. The storage units were basically garages, three sets of four arranged in a U shape around the little office building. We had this one customer who kept a weight bench and a full set of weights in his. Lately Elias had taken to driving down there and letting himself into that unit with the master key so he could lift weights. It went against policy, and if he ever got caught either by Dad or Dodge or the customer, he would have been in trouble. But Elias was nineteen and kind of in a “fuck it” stage at that point. He’d graduated high school a year before and had been working with Dodge ever since, managing the U-Store-It, and since then he’d gotten a lot quieter—part Clint Eastwood, part serial killer.
Sure enough, I found him in the last unit on the right, lifting. He was lying on his back on the bench, with an impressive amount of weight on the crossbar. His shirt was hiked up and under it, his gut was jiggling with every pump of the bar. Elias’s body was like one big temper tantrum. If Dodge brought home doughnuts one Sunday, Elias would eat as if his own execution was the next day, and I swear he’d go up by five pounds overnight. But now that he’d taken to secret weight lifting, in no time he was bulking up like the Incredible Hulk. Unfortunately it still had all the doughnuts on top of it, so mostly he just looked fatter.
He clunked the bar back in place and sat up once he noticed me there. It’s not as if I ever dropped by just to say hello, so he knew something was up. He fanned out his shirt at the front—it had a big V of sweat down it—and asked, “You need something?”
“I got a problem, man.”
Now, Elias was a good guy. He was the guy you called in the middle of the night if you snuck out to see your girlfriend and then inadvertently locked yourself out of the house, or if you needed an emergency ride back from,
