Facets. Part 22

"I wanted to talk with you!" she protested, but her words were m.u.f.fled in the sheepskin lining of his jacket, and her will to fight was dying fast.

"I'm here now," he said in a low, soothing voice. "Calm down. You're all tight and shaking. Relax, Pam."

She felt his hands on her back, coaxing the tremors from her, while his cheek rubbed the top of her head. Slipping her arms inside his jacket, she took a deep breath and let herself be sedated by his strength and his scent.

"Oh, Cutter," she murmured.

His lips brushed her forehead. "Better?"

"Mmmm." She listened to the steady beat of his heart. "Pretty stupid of me, huh, to start in on you like that when you were the one I came to see?"

"Y'could say that."

"I thought the weekend would never come. I've never been so impatient to get here in my life."

"John didn't give you trouble about coming?"

"Oh, no. I now have carte blanche as far as that goes now."

He looked down at her. "He'll let you come up here whenever you want?"

"On weekends." Reluctantly she dropped her hands from his waist. This time when she left him, she sank into the easy chair opposite the foot of the bed. From there, hands folded like the demure young lady she hadn't been acting, she explained John's terms. As she talked, the brief peace she'd found in Cutter's arms dissipated. By the time she was finished, her hands were fluttering in the air to emphasize her protest. "Have you ever heard anything so cruel? Marcy's job is dependent on my grades! I mean, it boggles my mind! And the house here-he'd actually sell it to spite me!"

Having removed his jacket, Cutter was sitting on the foot of the bed, his legs spread wide, elbows on his thighs. "Sounds like he'd have sold it awhile back if it hadn't been for you."

"No. If he'd wanted to sell it before, he would have."

"Then he wouldn't have had it to use as a lever. Don't you see, Pam? That's what he does. He finds what it is that means most to people, then threatens to take it away if they don't comply with his demands."

"But what's so critical about my getting good grades?"

Cutter clasped his hands between his knees. "You're smart. You could be doing better than you are."

"But what does it matter? I did well on my SATs. I'll get into a decent school. Why is it so all-fired important that I make honor roll?" Her eyes were glued to his face. She couldn't figure out his expression. "Why, Cutter?"

"Because you can do it."

"But I don't want to. I don't care about grades. They just don't matter to me. I don't like my cla.s.ses, and I don't see the point in killing myself for the sake of a mark."

"You wouldn't have to kill yourself and you know it. All you'd have to do is to pay attention in cla.s.s. You're quick, Pam. And you do like your cla.s.ses-at least some of them. You like French, and you really like English. You don't want to admit it, because you think that would be capitulating to John, but I don't see why you're sabotaging yourself because of him. You could graduate at the top of your cla.s.s if you wanted to."

She learned forward in disbelief. "What are you saying?"

His voice was gruff. "I think I said it pretty clearly."

"You want me to study? You want me to do well in school? You want me to join that . . .?that rat race worrying about grade-point average and cla.s.s rank? Cutter," she protested heatedly, "what's with you?" When he didn't answer, she said, "You didn't think school was so terrific when you were going through it. You skipped it whenever you could and dropped out the day you turned sixteen. You didn't care about grades or cla.s.s rank or college. It was fine for you to do what you wanted. Why is it so awful for me to want to do the same thing?"

He had straightened and was looking appalled. "Is that what you've been doing-following my example?"

"Not directly, but what was okay for you should be okay for me."

"Well, it isn't!" he declared. Rising from the bed, he stalked halfway across the room before turning back to glare at her. "I skipped school because I thought I was stupid, and I didn't like feeling stupid. I decided I didn't need that any more than I needed parents. I could make it on my own." He took a tight breath. "The truth is that I was scared s.h.i.+tless of life, and angry at the world and everyone in it for making me scared. Do you know that I actually liked it when Verne locked me up for a night? I was in a warm, safe place and there was someone else near. I'd have bought prison for a lifetime sooner or later if it hadn't been for your daddy. He put me to work and made me feel less afraid and more sure of what I was doing, but by that time I was too old for school. I was a working man. The life I knew and trusted was goin' back and forth to the mountain each day."

"Is it so awful?" she asked. She hadn't thought Cutter was unhappy.

"It's not awful at all, which is why I keep doin' it. But I'm missing things, Pam. I'm not stupid like I thought. I like to read. I do it all the time." The only clutter in his cabin was the reading matter piled on his shelves. "I'd have been embarra.s.sed to say that a few years back, but not now. I can understand things to do with the company, or things to do with the economy or the government that the old coots sittin' over at the bench on the green can't understand. If I'd gone to school when I was supposed to, if I'd paid attention and tried once in a while, I'd'a made something of my life."

Pam was out of her chair like a shot. "You have made something. You're-"

"A miner," he cut in with a grunt of disgust. "I've been a miner for the last eight years and I'll be one for the next eight and the eight after that. I'm not going anywhere, Pam. If I'd been smarter when it mattered, I might'a gone to college. But it's too late for that, too. So I'm stuck in a rut."

She tried to take his hand, but he turned away. Grabbing a log, he hunkered down before the wood stove to push it inside. "I'm not moving, Pam, but you are. You've got a future ahead of you. You can do well in school and go on to college, then you can work in the company way up there at the top of the ladder. I'll never be able to do that. Don't you see? I'm down here at the bottom. I'll always be down here at the bottom. I ain't got nuthin' to boost me up."

Pam ached for him. Squatting before the stove with his head down, he looked defeated. "That's not true. You have a record for eight years of good, hard work. You could be a supervisor-"

"Not under John. Maybe if Eugene were alive, but there's no way John would move me up."

"I could ask," she offered, and would have done it in a minute if the look he shot her hadn't been so quelling. Her asking John for a promotion on Cutter's behalf would be asking for trouble for them both, and anyway, Cutter had too much pride to let her do it.

"I thought you didn't want to be a supervisor. That's what you told me once."

"It was a long time ago. Things have changed."

"What things?" she asked more quietly. When he didn't answer, she grabbed a handful of his hair. It fell thick on his neck and was perfect for tugging. "Tell me, Cutter. What things?"

He twisted on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet to face her directly then, and she almost wished she hadn't pushed. His look was so intense that her insides quivered.

"If I was a somebody-"

"You are a somebody-"

"If I was a somebody-" He cut himself off this time.

"What?" she prodded.

He stared at her for another agonizing minute before giving a short shake of his head. Hands on his thighs, he pushed himself up. "Nothing."

"What were you going to say?"

He went to the refrigerator. "And anyway, being a supervisor at the mine isn't what I'm talking about." He popped open a beer and took a swallow. Reaching in again before the door swung shut, he tossed her a can of c.o.ke. "I'm talking about moving up and out. Getting a fancy apartment or buying a house. Wearing a s.h.i.+rt and tie. Driving a sports car. Traveling."

"You can do all that."

"How? I'm not trained for a d.a.m.ned thing besides mining, and even if I was, I don't have any degree. Pick up the papers any day and see who the big men in business are. Most of them went to college and graduate school. I didn't finish high school."

"So go back and finish. You could do it. You could go to college-"

"Not now."

"Why?"

"I'm too old."

"You're barely twenty-four! Loads of people are still in school at that age."

"Not high school."

"You could do it if you wanted." c.o.ke can in hand, she went to the refrigerator and nudged him aside. "No one's stopping you."

"But I have a job here. What are you doing, Pam?"

"Getting a beer."

"I keep the c.o.ke for you."

"So keep it for another time. I want a beer." Fully aware that he was watching, she popped the tab and took a swallow.

Cutter leaned back against the sink. "You do that pretty smoothly. Go to lots of beer parties?"

"Some."

"It's fun, huh? Kind of defiant? Makes you feel big?"

"You should know. You've been drinking beer for years."

"And I'll be drinking it long after you've outgrown it and moved on to wine. That's what I'm trying to say, Pam. What I'm doing now, I'll be doing for the rest of my life, but you-you have the whole world open in front of you. You're still growing. There'll come a time, not too far off, when you won't want to be up here. You'll have a full life in the city-"

"Never a full life there. Part of me was meant to be here."

"But your future is there. You'll be part of the business someday. You won't have time to go for walks in the woods-"

"With you, always."

He shook his head. "You're growing up. Your life is just starting. You're going to go back to Boston and get those good grades-not because of John's threats but because you want to. You'll go to college, then go into the business, and somewhere along the way you'll meet someone just as smart and successful as you are. You'll get married and have kids, and once in a while you'll bring them up here and show them to me, only I'll be exactly the same then as I am now."

That wasn't at all how Pam imagined it. "You're wrong. I may go to college, and I'll surely go into the business, but I'm not getting married so quickly." She tipped up her chin. "I'm waiting for you."

"Waiting for what?"

"You to get married."

"I won't ever."

"Then I won't either."

"That's the craziest thing I ever heard."

"No more crazy than your not getting married or not going back to school or not getting a better job if that's what you want. Not that you need a better job. The one you have now is just fine. It's honest and it's important."

"You say that because you're young and idealistic."

"For G.o.d's sake, Cutter, you're only seven years older than I."

"Seven years and a lifetime."

She rolled her eyes. "Please."

He regarded her for a long time. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"What I'm trying to say."

"You're saying that I'm going places and you're not, but you're wrong."

Coming away from the sink, he took her chin in his hand. His voice vibrated with feeling. "I'm saying that if things were different, if I hadn't thrown it all away because I was young and dumb and scared, I'd have a chance with you now. You're the only girl I've ever met who I'd think of marrying, but I'm all wrong for you."

Pam's heart had started to pound against her ribs. "No-"

"You're poised and polished. You've got money. You've got cla.s.s and breeding." His thumb brushed her mouth. She felt its touch deep inside her. "Me, I've got nothing but this house, a pickup, and a job. Sure, I've got a little money in the bank, but not so much that it would make a difference. We're from opposite sides of the track."

"There's no track here," she argued, nearly breathless because he was so close to her. "That's what Daddy proved. He had money, but he was always one of the miners, and he was happiest that way. I'm the same. I'm happiest when I'm up here."

Cutter seemed distracted following the movement of his thumb on her mouth. "You won't be. Not forever." He took a shaky breath. "There are times when I wish-"

She was barely breathing now. "Wish what?"

His thumb skimmed the new glow on her cheek.

"What, Cutter?"

"There are times-" he faltered, brought his thumb all the way around her cheek to her jaw, then went on in a smoky tone, "times when I wish I could take you away someplace where it wouldn't matter who you were or who I was-" His voice broke off, but his eyes stayed on her mouth.

Pam had kissed and been kissed before. But she'd never felt the sudden need for both that she felt then.

Cutter stepped back.

Grabbing his hand before it reached his side, she carried it to her mouth and held tight. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

But he shook his head.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"I won't start something I can't finish."

"You can finish it."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "No."