A Wedding in December Page 25

  His parents were divorced. She wasn’t the only person on the planet to have gone through this.

  Tears closed in on her again. Crying in front of Jordan? Really? She blinked. “I’m angry with myself for letting my emotions cloud my decision making.” The last time had come with serious consequences.

  “If you feel like crying, cry. Don’t hold back on my account.”

  “I never cry.”

  “Are you a robot?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ever since I met you at the airport you’ve been acting as if someone programmed you. You’re angry that emotions affected your decision making, but that makes you human. Frankly I’m relieved to see your emotions are still alive. I was afraid you might have strangled the life out of them, you hold on to them so tightly.”

  “My job requires me to be in control of my emotions. I can’t break down every time I see something sad or stressful.”

  “You don’t need to defend yourself against me. I’m not attacking you.”

  “It feels that way.”

  “Because you don’t like to admit that you’re human like the rest of us. You get angry with yourself when you fall short of what you see as perfect. I bet you grade yourself at the end of every day.”

  She did exactly that. “You are the most annoying man who ever lived.”

  “My ex-wife would agree with you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You were married?”

  “Hard to imagine, I know.” He looked tired. “Let’s start this again. I was trying to be sympathetic, but I guess I’m better with trees than words. I’m sure you’re an excellent doctor, but you’re allowed to be off duty once in a while. Give yourself a break, Katie.”

  She leaned her head against the sofa and stared up at the roof of the cabin. “I’m not an excellent doctor. After this morning, I’m pretty sure I’m not a great daughter either. So that only leaves sister. That, I’m not sure about. I try hard, but I don’t think I’m what Rosie wants or needs. Did you know that I went to a nightclub last night? Rosie told me we never have fun, so I went to have fun. I danced.”

  “That’s rare?”

  “About as rare as a mountain lion sighting in the middle of Oxford. You should have seen me. I was the life and soul of the place. I’m not saying I didn’t have a little help from a couple of margaritas.” She eased herself to her feet again. All the muscles in her body ached. “I need to get back. I need to be there for Rosie. Our parents will have told her by now, and she’ll be in a state.”

  “Because of the divorce?”

  “Not only that. Rosie has been using my parents’ whirlwind courtship and long marriage to convince herself that her marriage to Dan will work. When she discovers they’re splitting up, it will change things.” She caught his eye. “You think I’m meddling, but you don’t know Rosie the way I do. She’s impulsive. Spontaneous. I’m not at all sure that she hasn’t been swept away with the romance of all this, and that deep down it’s not what she wants.” On the other hand, could it be that her judgment was as flawed about that as it had been about other things?

  “You don’t think she should be the one to decide that?”

  “I do. But the news about our parents might influence her decision making.”

  “A marriage is as unique as the two people involved. Your parents’ relationship has no relevance to your sister. If she has doubts, she should be discussing them with Dan, not you.”

  “I’ve known her for her whole life. He’s known her for a couple of months. Never mind—” She held up her hand. “We can agree to disagree. She’s my sister. I won’t see her hurt.”

  “Either way, your conversation with your sister is going to have to wait.”

  And this, of course, was their biggest area of disagreement.

  “I know you think you’re protecting your friend, but Dan doesn’t want to marry a woman who is having doubts. I’m saying that I need to talk to her.”

  “And I’m saying that your talk will have to wait until tomorrow. You can’t leave.”

  “Of course I’m leaving. What are you suggesting? That I stay the night?”

  “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling you that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “Are you trying to provoke me? Is this you being all macho again?” She folded her arms. Tapped her foot. Tried to ignore those blue, blue eyes watching her every move. “I’m in your man cave and that’s where I’m staying, is that it? Why don’t you throw me over your shoulder like you did before and carry me straight to the bedroom? Or maybe you’re planning on locking the door and tying me to the sofa?”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Each second blended into the next until she lost track of time. Her heart started to punch hard at her ribs.

  They were enveloped by the warm wood of the cabin, the falling snow, the force of the chemistry.

  He was the one who eventually broke the tense silence. “When did you last look out of the window?” His voice was gentle. “It’s called a blizzard.”

  “It’s snowing, I know, but if you point me in the right direction I’ll be fine.”

  She paced over to the window, sure he was exaggerating. It took one glance for her to realize that he wasn’t. At some point during their conversation the storm had worsened. The trees that surrounded the cabin were no longer visible. The world around them had lost all definition. All she could see was a swirling mass of white. She felt a flash of panic. She was trapped. “You must have a snowmobile or something that I could borrow. Something with headlights. Some way of getting back down that trail.”

  “You’d be dead before you even found the edge of the trail, and you’d put the lives of the search and rescue team at risk. I can’t let you do that.”

  No, of course he couldn’t, because as well as having the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, he was also a decent human being.

  She felt a rush of desperation. “How long will the storm last?”

  “As long as nature intends.”

  It maddened her that he was so relaxed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. So far you’ve not been great company, although I’m sure that could change if you’d settle down some.”

  She felt a stab of guilt. Without him, she would have been attacked by a mountain lion, or lost in that snowstorm. “I’m a bit stressed.”

  “I’m getting that.”

  “I have to check on Rosie. You must have some way of being able to contact someone. This is an emergency.”

  “We have different views on what constitutes an emergency.”

  “We have different views on most things. It’s all about perspective. Being snowed in without any form of communication is an emergency in my book.”

  “Today you’re reading from my book, not yours. I keep the cabin well stocked. I have a generator in case the power goes out. I have pretty much everything I need to survive in a situation like this one. You won’t starve and you won’t freeze.”

  “How often does this happen?”

  “A couple of times every winter. Sometimes more. We’re in the mountains.”

  She rubbed her arms and paced back toward the fire. This whole situation was unreal. What had possessed her to walk into the forest? Why hadn’t she gone to the bar at Snowfall Lodge and ordered a large vodka and processed her issues in warmth? “There must be a phone signal somewhere.”

  He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Check for yourself. And while you’re at it, take a look at the message from Dan.”

  She took the phone, saw that he had no signal at all, and read his last message to Dan.

  Found Katie. Will keep her here with me overnight.

  Dan had replied: Thanks. Will let family know.

  She was dismayed, but also relieved. At least her mother
wouldn’t be imagining her dead somewhere in the forest. She handed the phone back. “So what happens now?”

  “Well, I don’t intend to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the bedroom, so I guess we need to find another way to pass the time.”

  She felt awkward. “So—you want to swap life stories?”

  “I’m going to throw another couple of logs on the fire. You should sit down and relax.”

  “You should know by now that I don’t know how to relax.”

  “Try.” He walked out of the room and closed the door.

  She pulled a face at the door, and then felt childish. If he hadn’t found her when he had, she’d still be on that trail and the blizzard would have wiped out any chance of her finding her way home.

  Fretting about her sister, she paced over to his bookshelves. Jordan was obviously a big reader. There was more nonfiction than fiction, a concentration of books about Arctic exploration and climbing. Several shelves were devoted to biographies.

  When he walked back into the room a few minutes later, she was curled up on the sofa, her nose deep in a book on Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated trip to Antarctica.

  He dropped the logs he was carrying into the basket next to the fire. “That book won’t warm you up.”

  She closed the book. “Judging from your bookshelves, you love the outdoors.”

  “I do.” He carefully added a log to the fire. “I’m guessing you’re an indoor, city type.”

  “I work in the city, and my job is indoors so I don’t have much choice about that. Most people don’t choose their career based on the environment. But I bet you did.”

  “I wouldn’t want to live anywhere but the mountains.”

  “You disapprove of me. You think I’m controlling and interfering.”

  He stood up. “I think you love your sister.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your parents?”

  “My mother lives in the next valley. My father’s whereabouts are unknown since the divorce.”

  “He didn’t stay in touch with you?” She couldn’t imagine not having her dad in her life. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s life. Things happen. Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry you have an impromptu house guest.” Maybe one day she’d be able to talk about her parents’ divorce in the same calm tone he used. To steady herself, she stood up and walked around the room, taking in the small details. The custom-built bookshelves. The beautifully carved wooden staircase that led up to the loft. “This place is amazing. How did they manage to build something like this, right in the middle of the forest?”

  He sat down on the sofa. “There were challenges, that’s for sure.”

  She ran her fingers over the handrail. “This is beautiful work.”

  “Thanks. At the time the work half killed me.”

  “You built this?”

  “Why so surprised?”

  “Well, because—” she studied the staircase again “—because this is incredible. You have real talent and skill. To be honest I’ve never even thought about people making staircases.”

  He smiled. “You’re the type of person who lives in a house without wondering who made it.”

  “I don’t have any admiration for the person who built my current place. In fact if I ever met him, I might have to kill him. The boiler gives up every winter, there’s damp in my bedroom. The one good thing about my work is that it keeps me from seeing too much of the inside of my house.”

  “You don’t like your work?”

  “Yes, but it’s tough sometimes.” She shut him down, the way she always shut people down when there was something she didn’t want to talk about. She’d always handled her problems herself. She was Dr. Kathryn Elizabeth White, and she had life sorted.

  At least, she used to. Now she was Dr. Kathryn White, total mess. She was used to being the calm one, the person who took control. Others looked to her to lead.

  Right now she wanted to hide, but Jordan looked at her as if he could see everything.

  “You don’t strike me as a woman who has a problem dealing with ‘tough.’”

  “I guess everyone has their limits.” She wrapped her arms around herself and walked to the window, turning her back on him. She could hold herself together. It was what she did.

  She breathed slowly, her breath forming a cloud on the glass. She resisted the temptation to draw a heart. That would be frivolous, and she wasn’t frivolous.

  Beyond the window, the snow was falling steadily. There was something about all the pristine white that made the outside world seem distant and unreal. She lived most of her life in a sterile environment. Long corridors. Beeping machines. The pace was always urgent. If there was a word that never appeared in her vocabulary it was slow.

  “I love this place. And does that surprise me? Yes, it does a little.” She leaned her head against the window. The glass was cold. “Maybe I’m learning something new about myself.” Lately it was happening a lot. It was like inhabiting the body of a stranger.

  “So where do you usually vacation? You strike me as the sort who would choose a city break. Culture. Galleries.”

  “I don’t take vacations.”

  He frowned. “Never?”

  “Hardly ever. I work. If I have the energy to string a sentence together, I see friends or family. If I have a day off I generally spend it sleeping off the previous seven I spent at work. Honestly? I’m not sure I do love my work.” The words left her lips without her permission, as if they’d been trapped inside her for too long. “I can’t believe I said that aloud.”

  “Why?”

  She turned. “Because saying it makes it real, and the whole idea that I might not like my job terrifies me. I’ve wanted to be a doctor since I was a little girl. I saw my sister sick, and that was it. Right from that first moment in the hospital I knew that was what I was going to do. I wanted to develop the skills to fix her. To take that scared look off my mother’s face. So I worked. I worked so hard. Every exam I took as a child, every book I read. It was a ladder, and I climbed every rung of it and when I got my place at medical school my parents were so proud, and so was I. I was the first doctor in the family.”

  “Which makes it harder for you to confess that you’re not sure you want to carry on with the job. Not easy to walk away from something you’ve given so much to. Have you talked to them?”

  “No. I don’t want to worry them.”

  “Seems to me you spend a lot of time protecting your family, Dr. White.” He stood up, walked to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Drink?”

  “I don’t usually drink during the day.”

  “Make an exception. It might do you good to let go of those strict rules you set for yourself. And anyway, it’s almost dark.” He poured wine into two glasses and held one out to her. “Come and sit down.”

  She took the glass from him and sat down on the sofa. Leather. Ridiculously comfortable. She sank into it and wondered if a sofa like this would encourage her to relax more.

  “It’s crazy to even think of giving up something I’ve trained for my whole life, isn’t it?”

  “Is it? Are you still enjoying it?”

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  “Life rarely is.” He sat down next to her.

  “Once you start down a track like medicine, it isn’t easy to change to something else. And the longer you stay on that track, the harder it gets. I always wanted to be a doctor. I thought this was it. This is who I am.”

  “People change. And that’s allowed. There’s no rule book that says you have to do the same thing your whole life.”

  “I can’t give up.”

  He looked at her. “Why? Do you have dependents? A co
uple of kids you’ve failed to mention?”

  “No.”

  “Loans then. A big mortgage?”

  “I’m still renting with a friend. I’ve been saving for a deposit on my own place, but I’m always too tired to look. And I like complaining about our broken boiler. It’s part of my routine.”

  “So you have a financial buffer.”

  “I suppose I do.” She’d never seen it that way. “But what would I do?” She took a mouthful of wine, and then another. “This is good. I should have had a glass of this to calm myself down this morning instead of going for a walk and getting lost.”

  “Then you would have said, and done, things you later regretted. Wine for breakfast tends to have that effect on people.” There was a smile in his eyes as he toyed with the stem of his glass. “The reason you want to give up—does it have anything to do with the bad judgment you think you made?”

  Apart from that appointment with the occupational health doctor, she hadn’t talked about it. It surprised her to discover that she wanted to. Maybe it was because Jordan was virtually a stranger. He wasn’t Vicky, who was well-meaning but clumsy. Or her parents, whom she needed to protect. She didn’t need to think about his feelings. He was as close to an impartial observer as she was going to get.

  She took another sip of wine. “Yes, although if I’m honest I think I was starting to have doubts a long time ago but it was easy to talk myself out of those doubts. Medicine is a track you stay on for life. I never considered I might change direction. But when something big like that happens—” she paused “—you start to wonder if you’re even good at it. If, maybe, you’d be doing the world a favor by switching to a different job.”

  “Is this another one of those instances when you’re being hard on yourself? Not that I know much about practicing medicine, but I can imagine the answer isn’t always clear.”

  “But every decision you make has consequences.” She stared into the fire. “A girl died. Her name was Emma. She was fourteen years old, on a night out with her friends to celebrate her birthday. There were four of them, walking arm in arm, laughing. They were probably talking about clothes, and the boys they liked. The car came from nowhere. He mounted the pavement—sidewalk—”