Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 16

Bags checked, tickets checked, carry-ons...carried on. It was almost perfect. Gemma was on the aisle, playing a rather amusing game of peek-a-boo with an infant that had become rather annoyed with all the movement and noise. Its tiny face did not screw up any more than it was as it watched Gemma perpetually hide her face behind her hands and then reveal herself. Making a funny face made the small child giggle and become a bit more satiated. When the plane took off, it was a content child; Gemma returned her attention to Michael, who was staring plainly out the window, a small smile on his face.

"Having fun yet?" She asked, giving him a knowing grin.

He stretched and nodded, yanking a book from his bag. "So far so good,"

Glancing at her watch, Gemma snorted. "We're going back in time, you know. Five hours ahead of time in Vermont, maybe just four, but when we get there it'll only be an hour after we left."

"That's creepy," he replied, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded. "I wonder if we flew back long enough we could relive yesterday."

Mike laughed. "Relive yesterday in Australia, that's what we'd do."

"True," she responded, pulling her own book out of her knapsack. For some reason they had nothing to say to one another for at least two hours. They read their books, both content with every once and a while looking up to make sure the other wasn't bored out of their minds. When they would land, it would nine o' clock back in England, which meant that it'd be four o' clock in the afternoon in Vermont. It was a crazy concept to accept, having to turn in at six thirty, but she'd be wiped by then. Gemma began to think about the living conditions her friends, Joe and Martha Girardot, had sent her. They were in a special condominium type arrangement, a four bedroom, six room house with five other people. Two would be staying in the same room, one by himself, and Gemma and Mike in their own rooms. It had two bathrooms, a kitchen, a recreational area, and a basement that had two contraptions that Joe had called snowmobiles. He had offered Gemma lessons on the ancient thing, claiming it to be safe and low powered, but she had been wary of the loud sled-like vehicle.

The best part about their house was the simple fact that it was a five minute walk to the ski hill, the resort restaurant, and the lodge. Supposedly the early frost had brought on loads of snow, which meant good packed powder; perfect for skiing. Gemma was restless thinking about it. In her years skiing in Montpelier prior to this trip, with her family and Jonas, she had learned a lot of helpful things. She was near-expert material, though she was almost adamant about never racing. A little playful race was fine, but as soon as someone handed her a number and a pat on the back, she was out of the running. Fear of failure and humiliation held her back, though she was perfectly at ease with jumping up in front of a group of strangers and telling them all off. She was eager to teach Mike all she knew, every little trick she had to offer. It was a fun sport when grasped even just slightly. Traversing kept you from a suicidal run into a tree, and something all Americans called a "hockey-stop" could have you stop in an instant. She was already mapping out just how to start him off.

Mike sighed and began to drift out of his novel and into the next week. He was almost sure he'd have to refuse her in teaching him how to slide down on a hill on two pieces of waxed metal. I mean, he thought nervously, how can plastic and iron be a safe mode of transportation? He'd seen people skiing before, it looked like it could be fun, but how was he supposed to learn over just a week? Everyone on a mountain top learned how to ski at age four and didn't try a mountain anywhere until they had at least five years under their belt, right?

As if putting away her thoughts as well as her book, Gemma snapped the hardcover shut and closed her eyes for the rest of the hour, only existing in a half-awake state. After the forty-five minutes of silence between them passed, there was a timid tap on her arm.

"Hm?" She asked sleepily.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Mike's voice matched his timid attention grabber.

She opened her eyes to see him, tilted toward her, eyes knit up in mild concern. "Nope, I was just thinking." It was almost true; she hadn't been asleep, but she most definitely had not thought over a single thing while her eyes were shut.

He smiled feebly. "Oh, good. I was just going to ask you about this." He held out his book, where there was a small section, in italics that stated, "Summer and Stanley Thompson, proud parents of nine children have put their input in on-"

Gemma fumed. "They disowned me," she replied finally, wondering if he had really been unable to come to that assumption.

"The family photo though," he flipped the page to reveal a terribly conditioned photo of nine kids, all about Gemma's age. She seized the book from him and looked at her sibling's faces, seeing what a young woman her little sister Sarah had grown into, how her older brother Doug had never stopped growing, and how her brother Scott was taking after her father with his cool gazes and firm stances...

"And here," he pointed to the next interview section.

"Stanley corrected us only on one fact. 'We have ten children,' he says quietly. 'One went to Oxford, we kicked her out temporarily, but she never came back. Haven't heard from her in years; we're all worried sick about her...'"

Gemma was at a loss for words. "Temporarily?" She managed to choke out.

"This is when you suddenly show up for Christmas like nothing's happened, and make sure they're the first ones to apologize." Mike said, smiling as Gemma's face lit up.

"Look at Sarah..." She ran her finger over the image of the then-nineteen year old girl.

He nodded. "She's a pretty little thing, isn't she? Must have all the guys after her."

Gemma laughed. "Always did,"

Gemma jerked her head up and looked around pitifully, realizing it had only been a dream. She hit her fist to her leg, relishing in the pain it brought, distracting her mind from the sorrow that had welled up inside her. Mike gave her a worried stare as she stood up and started off to the plane's bathroom, wishing she would make it there before she lost it and began to sob. As she snapped the door shut, tears rolled heavily down her face. She began to realize quite steadily she hadn't seen her family, just versions of the kids she remembered, maybe some concocted blur she had mentally passed off as her sister... Oh, Sarah, she thought miserably, what have you been up to? She buried her face in a paper towel and tried not to cry any louder than she was. It was hard to do, but she managed to pull herself out of her depressed slump and look on the bright side of life. She wasn't miserable without them, she heard snippets of news from Noah, and sometimes friends like Joe and Martha called or sent letters.

Having finally pulled herself into an almost respectable looking state, Gemma jerked the door open and meekly walked back to her seat next to Mike, who was staring at her, concerned.

"You alright?" He asked, taking her hand.

She squeezed his hand and forced a smile. "I'm fine, just got a little nervous." She lied.

There was only one thing that made Mike doubt her excuse, and that was the little red splotches on her face, especially around her eyes. He'd seen it before; when women get upset they get little upset spots on their faces, sometimes they stayed for hours, but Gemma's were almost screaming for attention. Either she'd had an allergic reaction and burst into hives, or she'd started crying and broken out from lack of oxygen. The female sobbing mechanisms can prevent one from breathing for minutes on end.

"Not to sound offensive, but you don't look fine," he said earnestly.

Gemma smiled and brought her hands to her face, rubbing it vigorously, as if doing so would eliminate all traces of her tears. "Just a dream," he heard through her fingers, muffled.

He was instantly curious. "You had a dream?"

She looked up and nodded slightly before looking down again.

"What happened?"

"My family said they were worried sick about me and regretted sending me away. I saw pictures of them as they would be now, but now that I'm awake I can't remember what they looked like..." She looked confused.

Mike nodded, lips thinning to a straight line. "Sometimes your subconscious tells you things you'd rather not hear, and sometimes it tells you just what you want to hear."

"So, if I was five years old again my subconscious would be telling me that ice cream is reeeeallly yummy..." She brushed off her dream.

Mike laughed. "Something like that."

An hour later, the plane made a jerky landing in Montpelier, only slightly delayed by weather. They had been forced to make an extra circle around the airport terminal before landing, to give personnel time to salt the runway. When they did land, Gemma discovered about a third of the entire airplane was going to be at the same resort they would be staying at, so she tried to get herself and Mike off first, to avoid the rushes for the shuttle bussing and baggage cart. Mike lead the way forward, following signs like he knew what he was doing. Gemma jerked him to a stop, giggling at her friend, Joseph Girardot, who had looked her over at least twice without recognizing her.

"Either that's our ride or he's looking for someone else." She started walking towards him.

Mike stopped her. "He know I'm here too?"

She shifted her bags onto her shoulder further and rolled her eyes. "Of course he does, now come on!"

Reluctantly Mike picked up his bags again and dutifully followed Gemma over to the short man. He looked Gemma over, annoyance on his face before it melted away into a wide grin that covered his entire bushy face. He opened his arms and stepped forward, no words between them as Gemma allowed him to embrace her.

In an American accent, slightly hard to understand for some reason, he said, "Gemma! I didn't even recognize you!" His hands danced around his palms like he was trying to get something off of them.

She mimed the actions, smiling. "I know, I thought maybe you saw me, but you just kept looking until we walked up here."

Joe turned towards Mike, who was staring with a frown. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Yes, this is Michael," she was speaking slowly, Joe's eyes glued to her lips as she spoke. It finally dawned on Mike what had been strange about Joe's accent. He was partially deaf and had a speech impediment, preventing him from speaking clearly. He used sign language along with normal English to make sure his point got across; Gemma knew it as well and made sure he could understand her at all times.

He extended a hand to Joe, smiling broadly. "Hi,"

"Good evening! I'm your ride, if you want to follow me." He pointed over his shoulder, miming them to follow him. Gemma hefted her bags and smiled at Mike. He too hefted his bags to his shoulders and followed the shorter man to a large van parked just outside a small fire door. They slipped out, an alarm ringing for about fifteen seconds after, quickly to be shut off as they closed the door again. Joe smiled sheepishly as they sneakily slipped their belongings into the back of the crowded van and climbed into the equally tight fitting bench seat.

"Sorry if it's a bit cramped," his voice was always muffled, like his tongue was in the way of his mouth, "but I had to shuttle a huge group to the cross country hill only half an hour ago."

Gemma waved it off, still grinning. "No problem, if it's too much of a hassle I'll sit on someone's lap." She elbowed Mike, who grinned sheepishly at Joe. The van started; they peeled out of the car park and headed down several back water roads, going by deer, elk, and a few other woodland scenes. Twice they had to stop in order to let a doe pass by, and once because of a flooding river bank. It had iced over the entire road, so Joe had stopped and put chains on his wheels before continuing. The rest of the twenty minute ride was uneventful, except Mike's first real look at the mountain he'd be on some time during the week. It loomed high and mighty before him, unnoticed until the corkscrew incline they'd been climbing arched higher and he saw a twin peak shadowing the one they were on. They climbed to the top of the small incline to reveal six chair lifts, a huge resort with several heated outdoor pools, and some easier looking slopes. They drove past this only to be dropped off in the shadow of the second peak. It was called Mt. Xavier, a name that commanded power and grace to be laid at its feet.

"Joey, you want to help us unpack? Show us the-he can't hear me..." Gemma smiled weakly at Mike, who was watching as Joe stared proudly at the moving chair lifts, back to the couple. He couldn't hear Gemma talking over the blowing wind, and even if he could, he wouldn't have been able to really understand her unless he could look at her lips or watch her hands.

She stepped up in front of him. "Can you show us where we're going to be?"

"Yeah, follow me." He hefted Gemma's bag to his shoulder and lead the way to a larger, secluded building. It was apart from the rest, the exterior with inlaid stone, a friendly chimney rising up into the sky to pour smoke toward Mt. Xavier. Joe handed Mike a key, then opened the house with his own before handing that one to Gemma. She gasped as she was lead in, looking anxiously to Mike, who had also lost his breath upon seeing the interior. There was a crystalline chandelier hanging above their heads next to a long staircase. It looked grand and elegant, a small kitchen just under the staircase and in a large, well-lit room. The room was shown to be a living space, television, pool table, and a small balcony hanging out over a cavernous ravine. The kitchen was small, cozy. Wooden cabinets, an old avocado colored refrigerator and matching stove, a few other small appliances were here and there. A woman walked into the room, flopping back onto the couch with a flippant hello to Joe.

He nodded toward the blonde that had sprawled out on the leather couch. "That's Caroline, she's one of your house-mates."

Gemma nodded. "She looks nice. So, where are our rooms?"

Caroline snorted from the couch, not offering any reason, just incredulous on Gemma's comment.

"Once again, m'lady, follow me." Joe smiled warmly and walked towards the old staircase, carpeted and yet still mostly wood. The dark blue carpet trailing up the light oak wood looked wonderful, but it was nothing compared to the sky-lit upstairs. The entire roof seemed to be nothing but glass, letting in bright rays of sunshine from its steeply sloped top. It was so steep that almost no snow really collected on its surface, though there were splotches of darkness in every corner of the enormous hallway. The stairway actually surfaced in the middle of the large hallway, so there was a banister trailing around the entire hole where it lay, but there were four rooms on either side with still enough space to fit between them. Two bathrooms were situated across the hall from each other, one as soon as you came up the steps, and one by the back, in the darker shadow of the mountain.

One room had a man's foot trailing out of it, the man inside obviously busy doing his own business. Gemma lifted her guitar off her shoulder and held it from the handle on the side, peering in to see what the stranger was doing. His head was under the bed, wrench by his side.

Joe made a face and poked the man's foot. "You didn't break the bed again, did you?" He emphasized "again," making both Gemma and Mike cringe in harsh realization.

The man bumped his head coming out from the dark abyss, but required quickly, his black hair short and neat. "Yeah, sorry Joe. I'm fixing it, picked up some nuts and bolts with my own money and everything."

Joe rolled his eyes. "I'm going to have to whine about this to Martha, you know, Rich."

"Go ahead, our doors are always locked." He grinned wickedly. Joe made another face before pulling his head from the room and showing them the rest of the rooms.

The first one, the one Rich had occupied, was all full of dark blues, matching the carpet on the stairs. The curtains were dark as well, blocking sunlight or just plain light during the day or night. The carpet was all shag carpeting in all four rooms, all decor varying shades in every room. The second room was all different shades of yellow, mostly pastels though the curtains were dark orange, almost like a sunset.

"We have names for all the rooms, you see, this is the Sunrise Room, Rich and Caroline are in the Ocean Room. Martha made these up on a whim, but this was her favorite." He pushed open the third door, revealing an all dark green themed room. The carpet was a medium forest green, the bed covered in an even darker green, the curtains an even darker green. The wall was adorned with tiny leaf prints, all browns and oranges; it was an autumn scene of beauty. Mike could clearly see Gemma was smitten with the room, it being all the tones she liked to wear, right down to the purple sneakers on her feet. With a grin, Mike took the guitar from Gemma's grasp and tossed it lightly to the bed, watching as she began to smile as well, realizing he had just given her the room.

She turned to him, smiling. "You better hope the next room isn't pink or purple, huh?" She teased, linking her hand in his. He looked up for a moment before flashing his gaze back to her, almost like agreeing with her with a half-roll of his eyes.

Joe smiled uncertainly and pushed open the fourth room's door and waited for approval. It was almost the epitome of every young boy's room when they were young. Pale blue carpet, navy bed spread, and turquoise and white checkered curtains. Mike's face split into a sheepish grin as he dropped his things on the floor, leaving the last stranger a very bright yellow room. On the wide, empty wall, another mural had been painted, this time with realistic watercolor clouds, darker on the bottom, but white as cotton on the top, outlined only by light charcoal paint to accent the definition.

"Gemma, you're obviously in the Woodland Room, but Mike's got the lucky one. This is my favorite, the Sky Room." Joe smiled as Mike, pleased, walked over to the navy curtains and threw them open for a view. It was almost a planned view. Nothing but white powder below him, filling the cavernous ravine. All that drew your attention from the acres of white white white was the blue blue blue of the sky, complete with cotton-y clouds. Mt. Xavier was behind his room, unable to interfere with the blue majesty of the never-ending sky.

Curious, Gemma walked back to her room and threw open her curtains to see a grove of pine trees stretching out below her, just before the edge of the mountain picked up and shadowed the growth. Rich and Caroline had the view of the pools, and the lodge. They had the view of civilization, but they were hardly interested in the view. They had picked the room solely because there was a bathroom between them and the only other room on their side of the house. The Sunrise Room and a bathroom between Gemma, a bathroom separating them from Michael. The poor soul that was going to be staying in the Sunrise Room would be advised to bring ear-plugs.

Mike stood behind Gemma as she stared at the grove of trees, thinking about what she could do to keep busy all day today, with two hours before she would get sleepy and have to turn in. He wrapped his arms around her and grinned as she sleepily fell back into his support. Suppressing the urge to start singing the first song that leapt into her mind-"Stand By Me"-Gemma sighed and tried to keep her thoughts moving along.

"Perfect?" Joe asked, walking in and ignoring the compromising position the two were in.

Gemma reluctantly pulled from Mike's weak grip and turned to face the grinning man. "Everything is perfect; you really know how to treat me, Joe. Free? What a joke!"

He laughed. "Just a week, we had no reservations, I thought it'd be great to see you again! Martha's going to go crazy when she hears I didn't stop to get her before showing the rooms. See, she painted all the artwork on the walls-"

"Oh! How excellent! You must get her here, I haven't spoken to her in ages, Joey!" Gemma spouted, her hands leaping together in excitement.

Joe smiled and looked away, as if he could hear something distantly. "Did you hear anything?" He asked, placing his hand on the wall. Gemma strained but shook her head. Joe nodded furiously and turned, walking down the steps with Mike and Gemma on his heels. As they filed into the entryway, they saw a dark-haired man standing in the landing, his things collected at his feet. He glanced up, square-framed glasses on his face.

"Oh, hi-" He started, standing up sheepishly. A thinner, brown-haired woman leapt in and threw her arms open.

Gemma gasped. "Martha!" She leapt over the new guy's bags and hugged the woman tightly, her hair flopping over her shoulder to nearly smother the five foot one girl.

"Oh wow, look at that hair, man!" She said, her voice curiously American. It was so thick in fact, that Mike almost thought he'd heard her wrong at first.

The new guy, with the Indian look to his features, picked up his bags and started up the steps, where Joe was showing him his room. Gemma, Mike, and Martha made their way into the living area where Caroline was sitting, watching the television while reading a magazine. They sat down at the kitchen counter and continued talking, though in hushed tones so as not to disturb their house-mate.

"You never visit anymore!" Martha whined, taking Gemma's hand. She was at least five years older than Gemma, causing Mike to think that they were more friends through Jonas to begin with, and she had grown on them.

Gemma sighed heavily. "After I broke my leg I sort of slowed down a bit."

Martha laughed nervously. "I told you not to go down that hill!"

"Since when do teenagers listen to anyone?" Gemma laughed back.

As the two continued to talk, Mike curiously watched the nameless house-mate reenter the entryway, Joe leading him into the kitchen, talking softly, hands dancing as usual. The man kept nodding at Joe and smiling a wide, white-toothed smile. Joe stopped in front of Gemma and Martha, waiting for a pause in the conversation.

"This is Amir," he finally butted in, holding his hand out to indicate the Indian looking man.

"Hello," he raised his hand, smiling in an all-American way.

Mike extended his hand in a friendly way. "Hi Amir, I'm Mike-"

"And I'm Gemma!" Gemma shook his hand when Mike was done, smiling on the man.

He lifted a pair of amused eyebrows at the two before asking, "Are you two dating? Because if you aren't, you will be soon." He snickered.

Mike coughed uncomfortably, faking the sudden need for a glass of water while Gemma laughed and told Amir that yes, they were dating. When Mike returned, Martha and Joe had left, and Caroline had joined Amir and Gemma's conversation. They talked for a long time, just the four of them, on everything and anyone. The three Americans educated Gemma and Mike on their recent scandals both politically and in Hollywood; it was amazing for the two to hear about everything American for a change, and it was almost a breath of fresh air just to be submersed in another culture.

Having hardly spoken, and Gemma having sort of adopted an American accent, Mike realized that the three Americans were having a hard time figuring out which country or region they were from. It was Amir who finally asked where they were from.
"So I'm going to take a guess and say Ireland, am I right?" Caroline asked, tilting her head at Gemma.

Both she and Mike burst into laughter.

"Actually, we're from England," Gemma blurted.

Amir lifted his eyebrows again. "Oh really? I took three years there in college."

"Oxford or Cambridge?" Mike asked sharply.

"Cambridge," he replied evenly, smiling as Mike's face turned down in a scowl.

Gemma snapped her fingers. "Were you in the journalism school?"

He nodded. "Yeah, for a while."

"Do you remember a Jonas Whittaker?"

The way Amir's face lit up was amazing. "Oh yeah! He was a riot! You know him?"

She nodded slowly, lifting a glass of water to her lips. "I did,"

"Well, what's he doing these days?"

Mike grimaced as Gemma put the glass down with a thud. "He's actually not alive anymore," she said calmly.

Amir sensed he'd touched on a nerve; he began to pull on his t-shirt nervously. "Are you...Jennifer? Gen-?"

"Gemma,"

"Oh yeah...Jonas used to talk about you." Amir replied, casting his eyes down into a coffee cup.

Gemma shrugged. "Not to dampen the mood, I was just wondering if you'd remember him."

"Well, I do."

"Good, glad to hear it." She smiled in a friendly way before standing up a filling up her glass again.

It was seven thirty, and Gemma was beat. She felt very tired, though her stomach was objecting most profusely. She had almost considered checking the refrigerator for some sort of quick meal when a timer went off and Caroline walked over to the oven and pulled out a huge casserole type thing. She placed it on the middle of the counter and handed out plates, smiling sheepishly. With a, "Dig in," everyone ate. It wasn't until eight thirty Gemma actually turned in, her face beginning to betray her wishes and go lax on her, eyes snapping shut when she walked from room to room, challenging Amir and Mike simultaneously to games of pool in the basement, avoiding Caroline and Rich who were having a grand old time snogging on the couch. Just as she was completely ready for bed, there was a knock on her door. With a slight groan, Gemma finished putting her hair into the ponytail she always wore to bed and yanked the door open. Mike stood poised in the doorway, a small tired grin on his face.

"Here we are," he muttered, looking in her cozy room.

She smiled. "The end of the world as we know it, huh?"

He grinned back, dropping to his knees as she sat on the vanity stool, arms lazily hanging at her sides. He took her hands in his and looked over her long, thin fingers. It was almost instinct, what drove Gemma to lean down and kiss the top of Mike's head. Just something told her that if she didn't do something automatically, she'd be stopping something natural. He looked up and smiled, leaning up to catch her lips with his own. Her door open, they both seemed to realize the danger of what could happen, but neither really cared at that point. Gemma was very tired, Mike was getting ready to turn in, and both were simply sharing a goodnight kiss. No big deal, except for Caroline. She and Amir were discussing something as they walked up the steps, unsure of how to act when their new house-mates were sleeping. As they crossed the hallway, Caroline explaining how she had a special ski wax in her room, she stopped dead and elbowed her new friend in the ribs. Amir stopped and rubbed his side with a small scowl, looking up to see the two he'd so blatantly teased earlier sharing a romantic moment in one of the bedrooms. His face split into a wide grin as Caroline whistled loudly.

Defiant in some respect, Gemma and Mike parted, both trying not to give Caroline the delight of seeing their red cheeks. They said their goodnights and slept.




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