She closed the blinds, conscious of the smile on her face. She didn't bother with clothes, she simply pulled the robe tighter and hurried out the door. She grabbed a handful of snow and brought it to her mouth, laughing out loud as she bit down. She tossed the snow down and looked around, taking in deep breaths of the cold mountain air. Beautiful.
She went back in and showered, then had a bowl of cereal with her coffee. She wished she had gone to the lodge for more firewood, or at least taken Chris up on her offer. She had enough wood left for a small fire this morning, but it wouldn't last long. She made a mental note to pick some up when she was out. Before long, she heard snowplows and knew they would be clearing the side roads as soon as the county roads were done. She was again glad she had rented a four-wheel drive. If a major storm were to hit, they would be unable to keep the roads clear for long.
Jessie broke off the end of a loaf of French bread and scattered it near the cabin so she could watch the jays bicker over it. She settled back on the sofa, an unopened book lying beside her, and watched as a squirrel came up and fought with the jays over the last few remaining bread crumbs. She intended to read and try to relax some before meeting Annie, but an hour later, the book still lay unopened.
It was Chris. She wanted to call her. She still had her cell number. Jessie thought she could call on the pretense that she needed reassurance before she saw Annie. Actually, she just wanted to see her and she hated the fact that the woman had gotten under her skin. She rolled her eyes. This she was not used to. If there was one thing she was used to, though, it was being alone. And she did that very well. Or so she thought.
"Get over it," she said aloud. "McKenna doesn't need you in her life." And she didn't need McKenna, she firmly told herself.
She wore one of the new sweaters that she had bought in New York on her last shopping expedition. She owned little that was suitable for fall or winter in the mountains, so she had spent two whole days buying jeans and sweaters and sweatsuits and even wool socks for hiking. She didn't bother with makeup. Even in the city, she rarely wore much, if any. She brushed her dark hair, then fluffed it in front with her fingers. She met her eyes in the mirror and knew she was nervous. Yesterday, Chris had been there but today, they would have no buffer.
Annie was waiting nervously for the knock on her door. She had decided on a thick vegetable stew for their lunch and she had spent the morning chopping vegetables, trying to keep busy. She had debated whether or not to serve wine with their meal, then decided she might need it after all. She selected one of her favorites from the rack in the basement and it was sitting on the counter, waiting. She was thankful Chris had brought wood up for her. She had not bothered with a fire last night, but this morning, it had helped calm her. She still couldn't believe that, after all these years, Jessie was going to walk through that door. She almost wished that she had insisted Chris join them but knew they needed this time alone. Whatever had compelled Jessie to seek her out, it had nothing to do with Chris and everything to do with Jack, most likely.
The light knock on the door brought her around quickly and she stared at the door for several seconds, unable to make her feet move.
Jessie knocked a second time before she heard footsteps approach. Was Annie nervous, too, she wondered? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the door opened and Annie stood there, an uncertain smile on her face.
"Jessie. Come in."
"Hello, Annie."
Jessie stepped inside, pausing beside Annie, who stood several inches shorter than she did. There was a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen and a warm fire welcomed her into the living room.
"Please, sit down. The stew is nearly ready. Just let me put the bread in the oven."
Annie hurried into the kitchen, leaving Jessie standing by the fire. She looked around at the paintings on the wall and some that were stacked in a corner. She hadn't noticed them yesterday, but they were all very good and they all had Annie's name slashed on the bottom. She was very talented for it to be just a hobby.
"Don't look too closely," Annie said as she returned with a glass of wine for Jessie.
Jessie accepted the glass despite the protest of her stomach and the memory of the slight headache she had this morning. "I think they're very good," she said, motioning to the paintings.
"Chris thinks so, too, but it's just a hobby," she said, dismissing the compliment.
"When did you start painting?" Jessie asked.
"Oh, I always dabbled, just with charcoal at first. I guess you were probably five when I started with paint."
"I never knew that."
"No, I don't suppose you did," Annie said quietly. They stared at each other for a moment, then Annie looked away. That wasn't fair, she thought.
The old Jessie would have lashed out, but she held her tongue. That would be no way for them to start.
"I like the one you gave Chris. Sierra Peak."
"Oh, that fool! She hung it where everyone could see," Annie said.
Jessie noticed her discomfort and thought she was embarrassed over her paintings. Well, you're always your own worst critic.
"I was actually going to ask you for one for myself," she said, surprising even herself with that admission. "I suppose you find that hard to believe, after the way I left here, after what I said to you on that last day."
"Yes," Annie nodded. "I hope you're not here to carry out your threat."
"I'm really sorry I said that," Jessie said softly. She sank onto the sofa, taking her wineglass with her. She was thankful she had it now.
"Jessie, you don't have to apologize. You were a child. It was as much my fault as anyone's."
Jessie shook her head. "You were never around. Jack said it was because you didn't care about us. He said you didn't like it here in the mountains, that was why you never went with us."
It was Annie's turn to shake her head. "I wouldn't have stayed here all these years if I didn't like it. From the first day he brought me here, I knew I had come home," she said.
"So it's true what Chris said? Jack wouldn't allow you to come with us?"
"Jack loved you very much, Jessie. I think he just wanted you all to himself."
"Why did you let him?"
"Jack was a strong man, Jessie. He could be very persuasive," Annie said, meeting Jessie's dark eyes, so much like her father's.
"He hit you?" she asked, her words barely more than a whisper.
Annie was about to deny it. She had never told Roger and certainly not Chris. But what good would denying it do? If they were here to talk about the past, no sense beginning that with a lie.
"A few times," she admitted. "But I was a very quick learner," she said, a touch of the old bitterness returning. She saw Jessie pale and wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. "He never hit you, did he?" she asked quickly.
"He never hit me, no." She raised her eyes to Annie. "Why did he hit you?"
"Why? I didn't obey him, I guess. The first time was when I tried to breast feed and he insisted I use a bottle. Then again, once, when I took you to Sacramento with me shopping. You were barely two, I think. We were late getting back and he was worried, I guess. The last time he hit me was when I took you out walking on one of the trails. You were, I don't know, four or five. He told me that I was never to take you out again. That was his job to take you out." She stared into the fire. After all these years, she didn't think that it would be so hard for her to remember, but she still felt the pain that she endured as a young mother.