* * *
For a long moment, both were silent, not sure what to say or do next, but then Josie said, "Sam, we really do need to talk, don't you think?"
Sam, who was staring down at his socks, sighed wearily. "I suppose we do need to make some peace with the past. But I just don't think I'm up to it right now, okay?" He paused and then admitted, "Seeing you again has been sort of a shock and I think I need more time to get used to the idea first."
Josie nodded in understanding. She, too, felt off balance by the sudden appearance of Sam Coulson in her life again. Maybe he was right and they needed some space before they could handle dealing with each other. "Okay…well, then… I guess I'll just go back out to the living room and maybe you can bring me some hot chocolate when the water's ready?"
Sam glanced up at Josie briefly and then over toward the stove. "Fine. Thanks."
Sam watched as Josie retreated into the living room and folded her petite body back into the corner of the couch and retrieved the book she'd been reading.
Satisfied that she was giving him the space and privacy he'd asked for, he plopped himself wearily into a chair in front of the kitchen table, his back toward the living room. Leaning heavily on his elbows, he let his hands slide up deep into his hair. At least that way, he wouldn't have to think about how his hands were shaking.
My God, he'd almost kissed her. How the hell was he going to survive the next few days trapped inside with Josie Geller if even now he couldn't control his actions around her? And why? All because she'd touched him: a harmless, innocent touch. Damn, hadn't she touched him thousands of times in the past? Why would this time be so different? Why would this affect him so much now?
'Because,' his inner voice answered, 'before she was a seventeen-year-old girl to you. Now you know she's a twenty-six year old woman, and that makes all the difference in the world.'
'Yes,' he thought back angrily, 'but now I also know that she is a lying, conniving twenty-six year old reporter…Shouldn't that make a difference?'
The answer came, 'No, you don't know that, and it's precisely because you don't know it that you're having problems…'
Sighing, Sam admitted that truth. As much as he wanted to place all the blame at Josie's feet, he was finding it more and more difficult to do so. Of course, it certainly didn't help that being around her was becoming more and more distracting. How was he supposed to figure this dilemma out if he couldn't even think straight in her presence? The situation was becoming more difficult by the moment.
The sound of the whistling water kettle broke into Sam's thoughts and pulled him up from his lonely seat to answer its call. Hauling it off the stove, he placed the kettle on the hot plate in the center of the kitchen table and then rummaged in the cabinets for the sugared cocoa, some marshmallows, and two tall coffee mugs.
A moment later he was carrying the two steaming mugs into the living room, setting Josie's on a coaster on the side table by her left elbow. "Here you go," Sam said with a slight smile. "Hot cocoa the way my mother used to make it when I was a boy." He saw Josie turn from staring at the fire to make eye contact with him for a long moment, as if she had been in thoughts of her own and needed time to register what he'd said. Then she followed his glance to the coffee mug.
She stared at it for a moment and then it seemed almost as if tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, even against what seemed to be her iron will.
A bit alarmed, Sam rushed out, "What? Do you not like it with marshmallows? I mean…I didn't even stop to think…I just…"
Josie broke with a tiny grin before shaking her head the tiniest bit and saying thickly, "No…it's fine, really. It's just so…sweet of you. Thanks."
A smile grew on Sam's face as he sat in the chair opposite Josie. "You're welcome," he replied before blowing across the top of his mug and taking a small, slurping sip.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows and made both of them jump a bit at the unnaturally loud sound. A moment later the sound of fat, wet snowflakes tapped against the roof and walls. "Sounds like the storm has started," Sam commented idly.
"I guess so," Josie said a touch wistfully before staring off into the fire.
Again Sam was reminded that although he had chosen this setting in which to spend his Christmas, Josie had not. She had family and friends back in Chicago who had been expecting her. Instead, she was effectively trapped there with him. And so far, he hadn't shown the most commendable behavior toward her, either. Guiltily he watched her melancholy expression as the light and shadow of the fire played across her face.
She had been right when she said they couldn't go on this way, at each other's throats, but yet, if he didn't maintain his shield of anger, what other protection did he have?
Sam glanced over at Josie again just in time to watch her licking the thin white line of marshmallow foam from her top lip with the tip of her tongue. His eyes homed in on that pink tip and his jaw actually went slack watching her, the visions brought to mind by the innocent action setting a fire raging within him.
* * *
As the snow started to fall, Josie turned to stare into the fire. Well, that was it. Her fate was sealed. Now, whether she liked it or not, she would be stuck there with Sam until the blizzard wore itself out. As her hands massaged the outside of the coffee mug she cradled in her palms, she thought again about Anita's warning. Was it indeed possible that Sam was simply trying to mess with her head? Could it be that his seemingly incongruous behavior actually had a purpose? What if he was just doing all this to hurt her? She idly took a sip of her drink and then licked the line of melted marshmallow from her lips.
No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't picture Sam as the type of man who would take revenge in that way. Maybe it was her own naïveté or even her own misplaced hopes talking, but the Sam Coulson she loved would not do such an awful thing.
Suddenly, she became aware of his eyes on her, and she turned to catch Sam gaping at her, a strange expression of almost…pain on his face. Concerned, she asked, "Sam? What's the matter?"
Heat flushed Sam's face from the realization he'd just been caught staring. He stammered, "Uh, nothing. I was just…thinking, that's all." He set his cup aside and stood. "Excuse me," he said before walking off into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
Josie shook her head, thinking to herself, 'I just don't understand him. Not at all.'
* * *
In the bedroom, Sam stood for a long moment staring at his reflection in the mirror over the dresser. Desire and longing still surged through his body and he cursed himself for it. 'Come on, Sam!' he scolded himself, 'Get a grip! Try to remember, at least for a minute, what it was she did to you! For God's sake, she was going to ruin your life for the sake of a story…don't let her get to you like this!"
But even as he was reminding himself of that fact, a part of him couldn't help but imagine the images of the two of them in the bed reflected behind him…and they weren't sleeping. The thought disturbed him. Rounding the edge of the bed, he sank forlornly onto the soft mattress. No, if this were just a matter of blind lust for Josie, he could deal with that. But he knew that this was much, much more than that. If he gave into these thoughts, he knew it wouldn't be simply because he wanted her; it would be because he still loved her…and that he could not allow.
* * *
Sam awoke, surprised that he'd slept at all. But then, it did make sense, considering the disturbing dream he'd had the night before, not to mention all the physical labor he'd performed in cutting and moving all that firewood…
Sitting up, he noticed a distinct chill in the air and realized he'd shut off this room from the heat of the living room fire by closing the door. Standing and stretching the sleep from his limbs, he rubbed his eyes and then opened the door leading to the living room.
There before him lay Josie, curled into a little ball on the couch, sound asleep – just as he had been just a few minutes ago. Looking toward the fire, he could see it was little more than glowing embers now. Looking at his watch, he realized he'd actually been asleep for a couple of hours. It was after 5 o'clock and with the storm raging outside, it might as well have been midnight, it was so dark.
Taking a closer look at Josie's huddled form, he noticed that she was shivering. He turned and went back into the bedroom, grabbed a blanket from the stack piled on the floor and returned to her side to gently tuck it around her and under her chin. He paused for a moment in the dim light to study her. She looked so peaceful in sleep. He reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers along her smooth cheek. She stirred slightly at his touch and then snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blanket with a sigh.
That sigh did funny things to Sam's insides; things he didn't want to ponder on at that moment. Instead, he turned and started rebuilding the fire and restoring the heat to the little cabin.
* * *
Josie awoke to the smell of piping hot food and felt her stomach growl in protest. She hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast and she was starving. Cracking an eye open, it took her a moment to remember where she was…and why. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of evening, she saw there was again a roaring fire in the hearth past her feet. Also, she was now covered with a blanket. She was sure she had fallen asleep without one.
Looking around a bit, she noticed that her empty cocoa mug was gone, along with the nearly full one Sam had abandoned earlier. Lifting her head slightly, she peered over the chair facing her and looked into the kitchen. By the light of a large hurricane lamp, she could see Sam, his back mostly toward her, whistling to himself as he stirred a pot boiling on the stove. Everything around her seemed so calm and serene in the face of the howling wind outside.
Josie felt a pair of hot tears roll down her face as she thought, 'This is how it should have been…' before hastily wiping them away with the heel of her right hand. Gingerly, she sat up, shoving the blanket aside and trying to ignore her protesting muscles.
Pushing up to a stand, she wobbled for a moment before she padded softly over to the kitchen doorway. The table was set with two bowls, two spoons and two steaming mugs with a tea bag tag hanging out of each. Looking over toward the sink, she saw their mugs from earlier upturned in the drip strainer. Bemused, Josie noticed that Sam still had the dishtowel draped over his left shoulder. Leaning against the doorway, she cleared her throat and said, "Anything I can do?"
Sam spun around abruptly at the sound of her voice, accidentally brushing his right hand along the front of the hot iron stove. "No…ouch!"
Josie rushed forward, grabbing the hand that Sam was waving rapidly in the air, mimicking the motion of shaking down the mercury in a thermometer. "Whoa, whoa…let me see it. Are you okay?" Carefully, she cradled his hand between hers and turned it over to see a pink streak along the outside of Sam's hand.
Sam stared down at his hand between Josie's two petite ones, and suddenly the pain seemed to vanish. All he could seem to focus on was her thumbs soothing their way across his palm. "Uh…yeah, yeah; it's fine." He pulled his hand away, turning back to the stove so as not to show Josie how much she'd affected him.
Choosing to ignore his strange reaction, Josie peered around him toward the stove. "So…what are you making?"
Sam took that cue to stir the pot again. "Beef stew."
Josie smiled. "Your mother's recipe again?" she teased.
Sam smiled back. "As a matter of fact…"
Josie giggled and then commented more seriously, "I didn't know you could cook."
With a smirk, Sam replied, "I'm a man of many talents."
Sam's bantering answer stunned Josie. Speechless, her mouth hung open in shock for a moment before she abruptly closed it.
In truth, Sam was a bit surprised himself. He couldn't believe he'd just teased Josie the way he used to when they were teacher and student. They used to have such an incredible rapport and it seemed whenever he wasn't consciously thinking about the way things were supposed to be now, he slipped back into the old habits. Except now they were no longer teacher and student…they were adults – and the stakes had changed.
Frowning to himself, Sam wrapped the dishtowel around the front of the pot, grabbed the pot handles through the terrycloth and turned to carry the tureen to the table. Josie backed away in order to make room for him, still shocked from their last encounter.
Once he'd set the pot on the hot plate, he tossed the towel in the direction of the sink and then pulled the chair in front of him away from the table, waiting.
Josie, not catching this gesture, started toward the other side of the table when she caught Sam's look. He looked at her pointedly, and then down toward the chair he was standing behind with a smirk as if to say, "Uh, hello? Chair?"
Blushing in embarrassment (and with pleasure at Sam's gallant gesture), Josie sat in the proffered chair and waited while he helped her push the chair toward the table.
Sam walked around the table and sat, grabbing the handle of the ladle with one hand and her bowl with the other. Starting to serve, he looked at her over the bowl and said, "Say when."
Josie watched the grace of his movements, a bit dazed, until she realized he'd already ladled three scoops into the bowl. "Uh…when," she stammered, her eyes only making skittering contact with his before looking back down to her lap. 'Oh,' she thought with distress, 'my cheeks must be bright red by now!'
Sam reached across the table and set the bowl before her, taking the opportunity to study Josie's face. Even in the flickering light of the hurricane lamp, Sam could see the tinge of pink covering her cheeks, and he watched, rapt. He'd always loved how pretty Josie looked when she blushed, and…
'Stop it!' Sam mentally scolded himself yet again, trying to focus on ladling stew into his own bowl. 'You are no longer her teacher, she is no longer your student, and you are no longer in love with her!'
The first five minutes of the meal was taken in complete silence. Neither one spoke or even looked at the other. But soon, the quiet made Sam curious and he found himself peeking up at Josie whenever he'd bend his head to take another spoonful of stew into his mouth.
She looked pensive and sad, never looking up higher than her lap, until finally she felt his eyes on her and met his gaze. Quietly, she complimented, "The food is very good. Thank you."
Sam simply nodded his reply and looked back down to his soup bowl.
Josie took that as a hint that he didn't want to talk and resumed the silence. The air was thick with tension and it was driving her crazy. She wished he'd rant, rave, curse…anything but this horrible silence.
* * *
Finally Josie finished her meal and gingerly leaned against the seat back with a groan. She wasn't sure why, but her muscles felt like one big knot and they were very sore.
Sam looked up from his second helping of stew at the sound. After studying Josie for a second, his eyebrows furrowed and he asked, "Are you all right?"
"I…" Josie was about to lie and say she was fine, but thought better of it. "Well, not really," she admitted. She reached back to massage her neck with her right hand. "For some reason, every muscle in my body is suddenly aching. I feel like I got run over by a Mack truck."
"That's not too far from wrong," Sam commented. "That accident you had was more than just a fender-bender, Josie. You could have been seriously hurt."
"But I wasn't," Josie replied. "So why am I so sore? I wasn't before…"
Sam leaned his elbows on the table and leaned his chin a little on his threaded fingers. "It's a delayed reaction. Right after an accident, you have lots of adrenaline running through your system. It isn't until after that wears off that you feel the full effects."
Josie's eyes widened as she heard the legs of Sam's chair scrape the floor as he pushed it back and walked around the table toward her.
When he was standing next to her, he leaned down and braced his hands on his knees so that he was at eye level with Josie. "How's the head? Is that worse, too? Any double vision? Dizziness?" he asked as if he were her attending physician.
In truth, Josie did feel a bit dizzy, but that was only due to Sam's proximity. "Uh…no," she stuttered. "That doesn't seem to be any worse."
Pushing himself up to a stand, Sam nodded. "Well, we better take care of that muscle soreness now before it gets much worse. If you don't, tomorrow you'll be twice as sore. Take it from me…I've had many a painful muscle from my years of hockey and I learned this lesson the hard way." He turned and strode behind her and into the walk-in pantry and out of sight.
After a few sounds of rummaging and rearranging, Sam emerged, carrying an old-fashioned metal washtub.
Josie's eyes grew as wide as saucers. The implications starting to emerge in her mind made her speechless.
"Wh…what's that for?" Josie finally stammered, finding her voice at last as Sam set the tub down in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"You need to soak those muscles," he replied, not able to look at her. Letting out a long sigh, Sam continued, "There's no help for it, Josie. Like it or not, you need a bath."
* * *