to make Edie feel as if she were special. “You’re doing the Birkie, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“How about you, Claire?”
“I’m not a great skier,” Claire said with a slight frown.
“You don’t have to be. We’ve had first-year skiers take on the Kortelopet, which is a lot shorter and geared more toward recreational skiers.”
“You could come and watch,” Edie suggested mildly. “It’s an event as much as a race.”
“Really?” Claire’s smile was strained.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow on the trails,” Jennifer said and returned to her table.
“The American Birkebeiner is the largest, most exciting cross country ski race in North America, and it’s in northern Wisconsin.”
“I know,” Claire said as if bored.
Of course she knew, Edie thought, but she loved the Birkie. Over eight thousand skiers ranging from beginners to pros, from several states and countries would gather in the Hayward–Cable area along with some twenty thousand spectators. The Birkie was held in late February, and there was something for everyone. The fifty-four kilometer classic, the fifty kilometer freestyle, in which she would ski, the twenty-three kilometer Kortelopet for those not ready to tackle the longer races. There was even a separate race for kids.
Claire ate half her steak and was nursing another glass of wine before Edie was halfway through her shrimp scampi. Edie felt greedy and rushed and ended up asking for a doggy bag. The food would stay cold in the car.
“Ready?” she asked Claire, who jumped to her feet and pulled on her jacket.
When they reached the motel, Edie took the ski bag off the roof and carried it and her backpack to the main desk, while Claire hung back, studying the brochures. She started down the hall, and Claire followed. The door swung open when she slid the card through the slot. The room was identical to the one she’d stayed in when she met Claire and Pam while skiing.
Claire slipped past her and shut the door and slid the deadbolt in place. Edie tossed her backpack next to Claire’s on one of the queen-size beds. Claire looked at it and said, “I sleep better alone.”
“Okay.” She threw her backpack on the other bed, too tired to even wonder at what she considered Claire’s strange behavior. It was so contradictory.
They took turns in the bathroom and climbed into separate beds. Edie sighed at the feel of clean sheets. She was drifting off to the sound of snowmobiles when she thought Claire said something. “What?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Sorry.”
“I know something that would help.”
“Really. What’s that?” Edie asked, although she knew and wondered who provided this service when she wasn’t around.
“You know how to make me relax.”
She lay quietly for a few moments, letting the tension grow. Then she gathered herself up and closed the narrow space between them, her heart thudding with anger and desire. She wondered at the two emotions, so disparate, flowing through her, and the excitement that accompanied them.
When she lay down next to her, Claire whispered, “Cover me.” When she kissed her, Claire murmured, “I still have my nightshirt on.” Normally, the instructions would have turned her off, but for some reason, they had the opposite effect. She slowly worked her way down Claire’s body as she had before, brushing her smooth skin with her lips, tasting it with her tongue. She paused. Claire was already moving, and Edie looked up to see her head thrown back, her neck exposed. She reversed directions and Claire grew still under her. When she kissed her neck and tried to kiss her mouth, Claire turned her head away.
In a grainy voice, she said, “Finish. Please.” And so Edie did, her knees on the floor, her arms around Claire’s legs, holding her as she jerked in response. When it was over, she pulled the covers over Claire and climbed into her own bed and slept.
When the morning light awoke her, Edie
“Of course.”
“How about you, Claire?”
“I’m not a great skier,” Claire said with a slight frown.
“You don’t have to be. We’ve had first-year skiers take on the Kortelopet, which is a lot shorter and geared more toward recreational skiers.”
“You could come and watch,” Edie suggested mildly. “It’s an event as much as a race.”
“Really?” Claire’s smile was strained.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow on the trails,” Jennifer said and returned to her table.
“The American Birkebeiner is the largest, most exciting cross country ski race in North America, and it’s in northern Wisconsin.”
“I know,” Claire said as if bored.
Of course she knew, Edie thought, but she loved the Birkie. Over eight thousand skiers ranging from beginners to pros, from several states and countries would gather in the Hayward–Cable area along with some twenty thousand spectators. The Birkie was held in late February, and there was something for everyone. The fifty-four kilometer classic, the fifty kilometer freestyle, in which she would ski, the twenty-three kilometer Kortelopet for those not ready to tackle the longer races. There was even a separate race for kids.
Claire ate half her steak and was nursing another glass of wine before Edie was halfway through her shrimp scampi. Edie felt greedy and rushed and ended up asking for a doggy bag. The food would stay cold in the car.
“Ready?” she asked Claire, who jumped to her feet and pulled on her jacket.
When they reached the motel, Edie took the ski bag off the roof and carried it and her backpack to the main desk, while Claire hung back, studying the brochures. She started down the hall, and Claire followed. The door swung open when she slid the card through the slot. The room was identical to the one she’d stayed in when she met Claire and Pam while skiing.
Claire slipped past her and shut the door and slid the deadbolt in place. Edie tossed her backpack next to Claire’s on one of the queen-size beds. Claire looked at it and said, “I sleep better alone.”
“Okay.” She threw her backpack on the other bed, too tired to even wonder at what she considered Claire’s strange behavior. It was so contradictory.
They took turns in the bathroom and climbed into separate beds. Edie sighed at the feel of clean sheets. She was drifting off to the sound of snowmobiles when she thought Claire said something. “What?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Sorry.”
“I know something that would help.”
“Really. What’s that?” Edie asked, although she knew and wondered who provided this service when she wasn’t around.
“You know how to make me relax.”
She lay quietly for a few moments, letting the tension grow. Then she gathered herself up and closed the narrow space between them, her heart thudding with anger and desire. She wondered at the two emotions, so disparate, flowing through her, and the excitement that accompanied them.
When she lay down next to her, Claire whispered, “Cover me.” When she kissed her, Claire murmured, “I still have my nightshirt on.” Normally, the instructions would have turned her off, but for some reason, they had the opposite effect. She slowly worked her way down Claire’s body as she had before, brushing her smooth skin with her lips, tasting it with her tongue. She paused. Claire was already moving, and Edie looked up to see her head thrown back, her neck exposed. She reversed directions and Claire grew still under her. When she kissed her neck and tried to kiss her mouth, Claire turned her head away.
In a grainy voice, she said, “Finish. Please.” And so Edie did, her knees on the floor, her arms around Claire’s legs, holding her as she jerked in response. When it was over, she pulled the covers over Claire and climbed into her own bed and slept.
When the morning light awoke her, Edie
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