Lighting Candles in the Snow (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

T
he episode with Jeremy was one of those things that just happens, leaving everyone to figure it out afterwards.

At one point during the night, I asked him, “Does this mean we’re back together? Because I’m not sure I want that.”

Those soft brown eyes plumbed the depths of my soul. “I get that. Karoline, I hurt you, many times, and—”

He paused and I held my breath. I did
not
want a confession from him. I couldn’t have stood him dumping his guilt on me, especially when I had tried so hard to let go of the past. Not very successfully, mind you, but I
had
tried.

If he asked for my forgiveness at that point, I wasn’t sure what I’d say. Probably no, and don’t come around again.

He didn’t. Nor did he confess anything which, in some twisted way, made me like him more. We didn’t talk much. We weren’t ready for the
conversation
, the debate I had repeated in my head countless times.

What went wrong? Was it me? Was it him? How could we have fixed it? Could anyone have fixed the mess that had become our marriage?

Several times that night a word or phrase slipped out, which might have led to the
conversation.
When he got close, I would kiss him and stop the words. When it was me, he did the same. Neither of us wanted dialogue.

Before Jeremy left the next morning, he said, “I’ve got to be honest with you, Karoline. I know I’ve been a jerk, and a liar.”

He sat in the same chair of our bedroom putting on his shoes where he had taken them off last June, before I threw him out. I wondered if he realized the irony of it.

“And a cheater,” I added. I stayed in bed, again like that time. The anniversary dinner. Talk about your crazy, mixed-up
déjà vu.

Earlier I had considered getting up and fixing breakfast but felt too tired to move. We hadn’t slept much.

He inspected his feet. “I need to tell you—I’ve been in a relationship since we split up.”

I put my arms behind my head and stretched. “I figured as much. Are you cheating on her with me?”

“No. I broke it off a while ago. I kept comparing her to you. It wasn’t working out. But I thought you should know.” He tied his shoes and came over to kiss me lightly. “Goodbye, Karoline. I’ll call you.”

I’ll call you.
It was the second time in three days that a man said this to me. I didn’t know what to say. I might have mumbled something, like “okay.” At my current level of confusion, I could hardly take anything in.

Jeremy left with countless unanswered questions and a tangle of emotions I didn’t know what to do with lingering in the air. I went back to sleep and didn’t wake up again until noon. No job, no scheduled interviews, no responsibilities. Except for that hike I’d planned, but after last night I had no energy to hit the trails.

I finally got up, showered, ate breakfast and was tidying up the apartment when Suzie called. I hesitated before answering. Not Suz! Not today.

She would keep ringing until I answered. And if I didn’t, she’d think something was wrong. She’d keep calling and then finally pry the truth out of me. I wasn’t ready to tell her about Jeremy. The best way to avoid it would be to pick up like nothing had changed.

I pushed the receive button.

She opened her conversation with a bombshell. “Karoline! How would you like to move to California?”

“Uh, um, why do you ask?” I stuttered.

Did she somehow find out about Jeremy and me and was she trying to separate us before we got serious?

No, that was me being paranoid.

I calmed down and let Suzie talk. A partner in Rob’s orthodontist business planned on moving to San Jose to expand the chain in that area. He wanted to interview qualified people who might be interested in relocating to northern California.

“The money is way better there,” Suzie explained. “Rob and I have considered going ourselves in the past, but we love the lifestyle in Utah. And our girls are too involved in cheer, we can’t take them out of that.”

I let Suzie ramble on, making the occasional uh-huh listening noises so she would know I was still there. I didn’t want her to suspect anything and start asking me questions or jumping to conclusions.

Move to California? Forty-eight hours ago I would have jumped at the chance. I could hang out at the beach. . . . What was the weather like in March? I wondered.

Suzie must have read my mind. “The high in San Jose was seventy yesterday. Of course, it can rain a lot in the winter. It’s not all blue sky and sunshine. But, Karoline, think of it!
California!
I am so jealous.”

Suzie jealous of me? “Ha, I don’t think so.”

“No, really. The weather there is fantastic year round, with only slight variations. You can hardly tell what month it is, the climate is that temperate.”

“I meant, I don’t think
you
could ever be jealous of
me.
”

“Is that what you meant? Well, no, I’m not jealous literally, but you know what I’m saying. Remember how we used to dream about living on the beach and collecting seashells and selling them to earn money?”

I chuckled at the memory. As kids, Suzie and I had always ventured into money-making activities—the lemonade stand, going door to door to sell candy bars to our friends, and the more exotic ideas like selling seashells.

Although I remained vague about the whole California idea, Suz would not be swayed from what she saw as the solution to my problems.

“This is your chance to get a job
and
get away from Jeremy. You don’t want the possibility of running into him again, do you?”

No answer to that. I took a deep breath.

Suz repeated, “Well, do you? Of course you don’t. Karoline, it’s perfect. I’ll have Rob tell the doctor you are definitely interested, okay?”

Last night was only one night and who knew what it meant? I needed to keep my options open.

“Sure, Suzie,” I said with some reluctance, wanting to get her off my back and not wanting to get carried away with hopes about Jeremy and me reunited.

She was pumped up. “Call Rob’s office and ask to set up an interview. Easy peasy. I’m going to take you shopping! I insist, so don’t say no. My treat.”

She talked me into it—Suz was too good at that—and we set a date for Saturday at Gateway Mall. We would make a day of it with lunch and everything. No kids along, no pressures, just we two girls out for the day, spending Rob’s money.

I hurried to end our conversation, in case Jeremy called. Because then I’d have to cut Suzie short, saying I had another call, and she’d want to know who. No way was I ready to tell her.

I half-expected to hear from him at least once that day, if not half a dozen times, like he used to do. Or he wouldn’t call at all. With Jeremy it was all or nothing. When he got on a kick, he threw himself into it. He used to write for twenty-four hours straight, not bothering to eat or even to look up from his laptop and say hi when I walked in from work.

If he was out writing at the library or coffee shop, he would forget to call, forget everything. Sometimes he’d go weeks, months, without writing and get mad at himself for slacking off. He claimed that I kept him grounded and balanced. My routine inspired his routine, helping to keep him productive and stable.

“Without you, babe, I’d go off the deep end,” he’d say.

Even with me, he’d been drowning. I couldn’t stop it from happening, couldn’t save him when it did.

“You grew up in the typical, all-American home environment; you don’t know what it’s like for people like me,” he said once. “When I try normal, it feels stranger than my usual messed-up self. You are my normal,” he would say.

Jeremy was like a rock star, a tortured artistic soul who found average impossible. Did I want this roller-coaster existence in my life again? I expected him to call, therefore he didn’t. I expected never to see him cross my doorstep again, therefore he did.

What I needed was a nicely ordered existence like my sister’s, with a husband who worked regular hours and children who trotted off to school in the mornings and came home five hours later to eat cookies and milk at the kitchen table while telling me about their day. Normal. Like what Suzie and I had grown up with.

Jeremy had never given me normal. If by some miracle we did get back together, he never would. If I wanted a quietly predictable life, I should take that job in California and move far, far away from my rock star ex-husband.

I crawled back into bed, completely disoriented and confused.

Chocolate No-Bake Cookies

Combine in saucepan:

2 cups sugar

⅓ cup milk

1 stick butter or margarine

2 tablespoons cocoa powder

2 tablespoons peanut butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

Boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat. Add 3 cups quick oats, stir and drop onto plates. Refrigerate until set.

Makes two dozen. Serves one.

Chapter Seventeen

T
wenty-four hours since Jeremy and I had slept together, and I still hadn’t heard from him. By now he should have called, many times. Some men give a dozen red roses, Jeremy liked to send a dozen phone messages spread throughout the day and night. He had no sense of time. He used to call twice in ten minutes.

A typical conversation might be, “Jeremy, we spoke five minutes ago. You were on your way home.”

“That wasn’t five minutes, it’s been hours. I miss you, babe. You are the hottest thing to walk the planet.”

“So come home!”

“Let me finish this chapter and I’ll head out. The library is quiet, I’m in a zone. I want to nail the last few scenes.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Because I miss you. I’ll be home soon.”

Maybe at midnight he would roll in, sometimes drunk, because after being on such a high for twelve hours, he would need to stop for a couple drinks to relax and wind down. He’d strip down, roll into bed and we’d make love.

I’d get up early to go to work while Jeremy would sleep until noon, or whenever he felt ready to get up and find his muse. I wanted him to work at home, to be there when I got back; we could eat dinner, talk about our day, watch a little TV before bed. We might have had a normal routine if only Jeremy had worked at home. He argued that such a routine would make him feel closed in, stifled. He couldn’t write in the apartment, he had to get out. The same old story, over and over.

Until I felt like it was me who made him feel stifled. When I’d insist, demand he stay home and be here when I got home from work, he’d act like a rebellious child, going out more and coming home later. When aggressive didn’t work, I’d try passive—pretending to be asleep when he got into bed, non-responsive and resistant to his touch, until he no longer tried. And that was the sad end to a marriage doomed from the start.

I sat in my empty apartment staring at the afternoon light waning into evening, thinking about the past and hating myself for letting my ex-husband back into my heart.

People will say about a major break-up, “It’s complicated,” when it isn’t really. It’s simpler than one might suppose. Two people give up. Maybe it’s harder than they thought it would be, or they meet someone else and hope for relationship failure to free them, or they get bored with the routine and need excitement. Whatever the reasons, the results are the same. One or both want out. They stop trying, the relationship deteriorates.

In our case, I didn’t know which one of us gave up first.

My doorbell rang. “Jeremy!” I blurted, jumping up to get the door.

It was Zac Kline, standing behind a full bouquet of yellow and white daisies. Stunned, I waited, expecting him to morph into Jeremy.

Zac peeked at me from behind the flowers. “Hi, Karoline. A peace offering, with my apologies.” He handed me the bouquet.

I took it and stuttered, “Zac. Why thank you. This is a surprise. Unexpected. I didn’t think it was you . . . um . . . I didn’t expect to see you.”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “I’m here to apologize for my behavior the other night. I was an ass. I would’ve called but thought we should talk in person. You know, to prove my sincerity.”

I stopped gaping long enough to remember my manners. “Can you come in?” I pulled the door wide and gestured for him to enter.

He seemed reluctant. “Sure, but only for a second. I don’t want to impose or imply that I’m after anything.” He stepped inside.

“This is a very nice gesture, Zac,” I said, holding up the daisies. “You are a gentleman. I’m impressed.”

He smiled, his blue eyes taking me in. “You’re not mad at me then?”

“Of course not. I never was mad. In fact, I was flattered. I thought about calling. You made me feel desirable and attractive. It had been a while.”

We stood there in the dining area between the kitchen and the living room, kind of gawking and checking each other out and making awkward small talk. I invited him to sit down but he declined, insisting again that he didn’t want to impose. We chatted about the weather.
Yes, it was cold for March, wasn’t it?
He inquired about my job search. I told him I planned on hiking tomorrow, and he asked me out for Saturday.

Saturday? What was I doing Saturday? Oh right. Shopping with Suz. That would be an all-day marathon. I’d have to choose between it and going out with Zac.

Jeremy was out of the picture. He hadn’t once contacted me, so screw him. I made my decision and smiled up at Zac. I loved that he was so much taller than me. Not like Jeremy who was my height, five nine. I figured Zac at about six three.

“Saturday sounds good. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five. We’ll go to dinner in Park City, I’ll show you around, and we’ll catch a show later at a comedy club.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Sounds like fun. I look forward to it.”

He gave me a light peck on the cheek. “Cool. See you then, Karoline.”

And he was off, leaving me in a state alternating between joy, dread and total confusion.

I filled a vase with water and set the daisies in. What a pretty bouquet to welcome an early spring. I set them on the dining room table and fussed slightly with the arrangement before collapsing on the chair. Entwining my fingers at the back of my head I stared at the flowers like they were from outer space, their white and yellow heads nodding at me in foreign, light-hearted cuteness.

I had sat here alone and depressed for too many long months, sure that no one would ever again want me or find me attractive. I had put on weight, stopped exercising, given up makeup. Now within one week, I had the interest of two men: Zac and Jeremy. Jeremy or Zac?

If I had to choose, I didn’t know what I’d do. But of course I didn’t have to, because Jeremy hadn’t called and Zac had. Jeremy had never apologized for anything or brought me flowers, and Zac had. Jeremy was no gentleman and Zac was looking better and better in comparison.

Jeremy was a tortured soul. Energy exuded off him and swirled me into its vortex. I didn’t need that. Zac seemed calm and centered. He ran a business. He had a passion for snowboarding that added vitality to his personality.

Not that either of them had officially offered me anything. But it felt good to think ahead and be prepared, just in case.

I went to the sink and was gulping down a glass of water when I heard another knock.

Jeremy.

I pulled open the door.

Not Jeremy. It was Zac again.

I smiled up at him. I really did like that he was so tall. And blond, and muscular. The opposite of Jeremy—skinny, short and dark. What did I ever see in Jeremy, anyway?

“Did you forget something?” I asked, trying not to sound as flirtatious as I felt.

He blushed, which I thought charming. “I’ve got the afternoon free. Want to go for a walk or something?”

I thought about it for a second. Sure, why not? “Believe it or not, that is exactl
y
what I want to do. Come on in, Zac. It’ll only take me a minute to get ready.”

We headed out at a brisk pace, deciding to go east toward the Avenues. Zac took long strides and I had to struggle to keep up. He kept asking if I was okay, if I wanted him to slow down.

“Absolutely not! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve pushed myself physically? This feels great.”

However, we slowed down some to better carry on a conversation. I hadn’t worked out the entire winter and was getting breathless. It was embarrassing.

“Anyway, what are you doing in town?” I asked him. Park City was a good forty minutes from Salt Lake. I didn’t figure he had driven down simply to bring me daisies.

“I had a client meeting at nine. When it ended, I thought of you and bought the flowers.”

We headed up H Street into the Avenues, with the walks slippery from a skiff of snow. He reached for me. “Here, let me take your hand. There may be ice under the snow. I don’t want you falling.”

How sweet to have someone this gently concerned for my welfare. I gave him my hand and said, “I had been thinking of you, too, Zac. I felt like our first meeting didn’t go that well, and I wanted to give it another chance.”

There we were, officially holding hands. It felt good.

“Yeah, me, too. I don’t know. I came on too strong. Misinterpreted your signals or something. You know how it is. I can be an idiot. I’m the first to admit it.”

“It’s tough being thirty and single,” I said. “Especially coming out of a long relationship. You don’t want to be alone, but you’re afraid of making the same mistakes. It’s hard. I’ve recently come through a bad situation and half the time I don’t know what I want. Or what I’m doing.”

Zac said, “My longest relationship was two years.”

“Yeah?” I said, interested. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“She wanted marriage and I didn’t,” he blurted.

I liked his honesty. What a refreshing change. I could live with honesty. “Okay. Nothing like laying the cards out on the table,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you asked, and that was it. She wanted us to get married or break up. We broke up.”

“Well, I’m not ready for marriage,” I said emphatically. “I’m not even ready for a relationship. I’m looking for friendship, period. You know, someone to go out with now and then to dinner, a movie, hiking in the mountains. Like this. This is nice. Just someone to go for a walk with.”

“Hey, there’s a little Indian restaurant right around the corner up here. Are you hungry?”

I had no plans. No interviews, no job to get to. The candy factory job had ended a couple weeks ago. With glee I had wrapped my last piece of salt water taffy, and there were no other temp jobs in the works.

Maybe I’d think seriously about moving to California. Right now it sounded like the best offer anyone had yet made. I didn’t like long empty afternoons with nothing to do but think and fret. The mortgage business had all but dried up in the area, no future there. Mr. Everett had been shrewdly intuitive to get out when he did.

These thoughts swooped around like bats in the darkness, but what I said was, “Sure. That sounds great.”

After lunch, Zac and I returned to my place, strolling and chatting along the way. We said goodbye outside, exchanged phone numbers and confirmed our date on Saturday, then he folded his long frame into his little Japanese car and took off.

I liked Zac. I wanted to see more of him. Only four more days until our first real date.