where he had thoughts like, I need her? He hadn’t
kissed her, hadn’t touched her beyond a hand on her
shoulder, didn’t know that she felt anything at all for
him. He suspected she’d have been just as friendly to
the codger who’d owned the lodge before him.
Although, she had spent the afternoon reading about
the Iraq war.
Maybe because of him, maybe not.
She’d moved on to talking about other things, an
exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, music she liked.
John guessed he must have nodded or interjected a word
here and there, because he didn’t want her to quit.
He didn’t need her; that had been a ridiculous
thought. But he wouldn’t mind if snow kept falling for
another day or two.
And maybe if the state road crew left Thunder
Mountain Lodge isolated for a while after that, he’d
eventually get his fill and want his solitude back.
Just not yet.
CHAPTER SIX
AFTER DINNER, Willow disappeared again. At first,
Fiona didn’t pay any attention. She’d probably just gone
to the bathroom. But when she didn’t come back, Fiona
set down her book on the upholstered chair she’d been
occupying a cozy distance from the crackling fire, and
went upstairs.
The doors to both girls’ bedrooms were open, Willow
in neither. Only the bathroom door was shut. Fiona
knocked lightly.
“Willow? Are you okay?”
“Ms. Mac?” The voice was high and shaky. “Are
you by yourself?”
“Everyone else is downstairs.”
“My period started!” she wailed.
Surely, surely, not her first one, Fiona prayed.
“I left tampons in the basket on the counter.”
“I can’t use them.” She was definitely crying.
“They…they hurt. I never use them!”
Oh, Lord. Fiona stood facing the door panel. “All
right,” she said. “I’ll ask the other girls. Maybe one of
them has a pad in her purse.”
Otherwise, they might just have to go back to the rags
their great-grandmothers would have used. She decided
not to mention that option yet.
“Why don’t you just fold a bunch of toilet paper
inside your underwear for now?”
There was a pause, then a horrified, “Toilet paper?”
Nope. Fiona definitely wasn’t saying a word about
rags, or the interesting historical fact that women on the
Oregon Trail had had to reuse them without washing
when no water was available, and had dried them by
hanging them on the back of the wagon. Diapers, too.
Must have been a pretty sight for the driver of the next
wagon in line.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
She paused for a moment on the stairs, looking at the
tableau below her. Everyone was lounging, one group
playing poker, a few reading or listening to music. They
looked amazingly content, considering they were
stranded here and not on vacation. Unaware of her
above, John tossed a log onto the fire, raising a storm
of sparks. For just a moment, she couldn’t help letting
her gaze linger on his broad shoulders and—okay, admit
it—the way his jeans clung to muscular thighs and butt.
His shoulders were nice, too, broad and strong.
Willow, she reminded herself.
Continuing down, Fiona caught Erin’s eye. Erin had
been reading, sitting on an area rug, legs outstretched,
and leaning against the massive leather sofa. Troy lay
on the sofa, eyes closed, headphones on, his fingers
drumming on the leather.
Erin stood and casually made her way over to the
teacher. “Is something wrong?”
“Willow’s period started,” Fiona said in a low voice.
“She’s not comfortable using tampons. Any chance you
have a pad?”
Erin shook her head. “I use tampons. Besides, I just
had mine. I didn’t bring anything.”
“Okay, I’ll ask the other girls.”
Tabitha threw down her cards and stood. “I’m going
to get something to drink,” she announced.
Fiona stopped her on the way to the kitchen and
repeated her question.
Tabitha, too, shook her head. “Uh-uh.”
Kelli had her back to Fiona, so Fiona signaled to
Amy next.
Amy didn’t want to be separated from the boys. When