Snowbound. Janice Kay Johnson
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after John went to the effort to round up a fair selection of parkas, gloves, hats and several pairs of boots. One girl—Amy—didn’t want to go. John was sympathetic until she started to whine.
“It’s cold.”
“Come on, you gotta be on my team,” Hopper coaxed.
“I don’t like getting cold.”
“But you ski!” one of the other girls said in apparent surprise.
Her lower lip was getting pouty. “Not when it’s snowing like this.”
Troy Thorsen grabbed a hat and put it on her, pulling it down over her ears even as she shook her head madly, fighting him. “You have to come out, or we won’t have even sides.”
She yanked it off and threw it at him, her eyes flashing. “I don’t have to do anything.”
Their teacher intervened. “No, you don’t. Amy, if you’d rather stay inside, that’s fine. Mr. Fallon has a good library. You can pick out a book and read in front of the fire with me.”
“But, Ms. Mac!” the skinny kid protested. “Aren’t you coming out?”
“Are you kidding? Not a chance.”
“Bummer,” somebody muttered.
Kelli sniffed and pointedly turned her back on Amy. “Let’s just go out. It doesn’t matter if sides aren’t even.”
“Yeah,” a couple of them agreed. All began zipping parkas and donning hats.
Amy smiled at Hopper, the boy she’d been hanging on. “You could keep me company. We could play a game. Or, like, explore the lodge.” Be alone, her tone promised.
Yanking on gloves, he missed the full wattage of her smile and possibly her implicit promise. “Nah, it’s going to be cool out there. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Standing to one side, John saw anger flare on her face.
Then, “Oh, fine!” she snapped. “I’ll come already.” She appropriated a parka the girl in braces had been reaching for, picked out a faux-fur headband that left her hair to ripple down her back and chose gloves.
“Cool!” Hopper declared, as oblivious to the cold-shoulder she gave him now as he’d been to her earlier, flirtation.
Coatless—she’d loaned hers to one of the girls—Fiona followed them out onto the porch. “Remember, you’ll stay right in front. I want to be able to see all of you whenever I glance out.”
“Yes, Ms. Mac,” they all said dutifully, meanwhile rolling their eyes.
Shaking her head, she came back inside and shut the heavy front door. “Want to bet on how long they last out there?”
“I’m going to say ten minutes for the one who didn’t want to go.”
She laughed. “Hopper may live to regret not falling in line.”
“Or be very, very grateful he ticked her off early on.”
This smile was wry. “Amy is a bit of a handful. She’s an only child, which doesn’t always mean spoiled…”
“But in Amy’s case does,” he said bluntly.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She seemed perturbed at the idea of criticizing one of her charges. “I’m an only child myself.”
Interesting. He wouldn’t have guessed. Nodding in acknowledgment, he changed the subject, “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Can I help?”
He shouldn’t succumb to temptation. Spending time alone with her wasn’t smart. But she was not only the first woman to interest him since he’d landed stateside, she was also the first person of either gender he’d had any inclination to talk to.
So he said, “If you want to clean bathrooms.”
He was ashamed of himself for sounding ungracious. She’d been more than generous in getting the whole group to help out. Once upon a time, he’d known how to make pleasant conversation. Not so long ago. Before…
John willed his mind to go blank.
Fiona helped hold him in the here and now. “Our bathrooms?” She sounded horrified. “We can clean them ourselves.”
“We’ll just do a quick swipe. Before your charges come in and need hot baths again.”
“Oh, dear. They will, won’t they?” She nodded. “Fine. But they won’t have made their beds, either, and we’re not doing that for them.”
She sounded so fierce, a trace of amusement stirred in him. He hardly recognized it. He’d lost his sense of humor along with so much else in Iraq.
Climbing the stairs, he asked, “Are you going to be in trouble over this?”
“With the school, you mean?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know. I hope not. I did call my principal before we left Redmond, and he agreed that it made sense to take the alternate route. And it wasn’t snowing, and forecasters were off by hours about when the storm was supposed to reach this far north.”
She wasn’t trying to convince him, John guessed, but rather herself.
Her voice went quiet. “Maybe I deserve to lose my job. We could have all died. I used poor judgment.”
He’d been harsh yesterday, and now felt like the worst kind of hypocrite. His own misjudgment had resulted in horror. Maybe she’d been lucky, but her error had been mild in comparison.
Besides… He’d been surprised himself yesterday afternoon to walk out of the grocery store and see snow falling so soon. His own drive back to the lodge had been treacherous.
They’d reached the hallway above.
“I suspect there are travelers stranded all over. You may not be the only Knowledge Champs team that got in trouble. From what you said, high schools all over Oregon had sent kids.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! I didn’t even think about that. Two groups came from Portland and one from Lincoln City over on the coast. What if…?” She pressed a hand to her throat.
“Nothing you can do about it.” Okay, that didn’t help, John saw immediately. He tried again. “Eight kids is enough for you to take responsibility for.”
“I can’t help worrying. Oh, I wish we could get some news coverage!”
“You can’t do anything.”
She tried to smile. “I can worry, can’t I?”
They’d been standing here in the hall too long. He was becoming uncomfortably aware of her. Of little things: the palest of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the fullness of her lower lip, the single strand of dark hair that curved down over her brow. He resisted the urge to lift his hand and smooth it back.
The effort made his voice curt. “Worrying won’t help.”
Her pointy chin rose. “No. It won’t. Hadn’t we better get started? I figure they’ve already been out there five minutes. By your estimate, Amy will be coming in the door in another five minutes.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay. You’re trying to help. I know.” She smiled, a benediction.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. She wouldn’t be so forgiving if she knew about the death he’d rained on the innocent.
The road to hell was paved with good intentions.
She took the girls’ bathroom, he took the boys’. From long habit, he cleaned fast, and then carried a pile of towels and washcloths to her. She was