Page 38 of Grinchland
She was mid knock when I pulled the door open. Her eyes were wide as her gaze met mine. It was almost as if she was not prepared to have me answer the door. Our gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of us looked away.
Then, as if she realized what was going on between us, she dropped her gaze to her feet before she turned and looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she said, waving toward her penguin that I’d set up last night.
I shrugged, folded my arms, and leaned against the doorframe, all the while keeping my gaze focused on Clara. There was something about her. Something had shifted between us. Did she feel it too? Or was I the only idiot that was losing his grasp on what our deal had been all along.
“What can I say? I’m a man of my word.” I paused. “But I did make it my own.”
Clara glanced back at me. “I saw the sign.”
I gave her a wicked half smile. “Can’t have Grinchland residents thinking that I’m going soft. This way, it portrays exactly what is happening.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “And what is happening?”
I leaned in, enjoying the surge of electricity that crackled between our bodies. It had been a long time since I’d been this close to a woman. Normally, I would instantly pull back, but I didn’t. Instead, I allowed myself to linger. To enjoy.
Realizing that she was waiting for my response, I whispered, “You’re twisting my arm.” I took in a deep breath and with it the smell of her shampoo. It had the scent of sweet vanilla and reminded me of my grandmother baking Christmas cookies when I was a kid.
I blinked and pulled back, startled by the sudden resurfacing of that memory. It had been a long time since I’d thought about any of my past Christmases except for the one I was always actively trying to forget.
“Oh,” was all she could respond before Isabelle appeared and whisked Clara away to show off her collection of dresses that quickly turned into an all-out fashion show.
They were elbow deep in satin and taffeta when I asked Clara what the afternoon plan was. She suddenly snapped to attention like she was just remembering why she was here and that we had a schedule.
She promised a disappointed Isabelle that she would be back for the second half of the production, and explained that if we didn’t leave now, we’d miss out. On what, she didn’t expound, and when I asked, she just flashed me a smile and told me that I’d have to wait and see. A response that I was growing accustomed to despite my better judgement.
At least I convinced her to let us take my truck this time. She eyed me cautiously before she jutted out her pinkie finger and made me promise right then and there that I was going to follow her directions religiously.
I locked pinkies with her, looked her dead in the eye, and repeated that I would follow her directions religiously. I tried to ignore the sensations that raced up my arm from the feel of her skin against mine. She paused, taking her time to really study me before she nodded and told me I could drive.
It was a pleasant drive until her directions led us to Kingston, a small town about thirty minutes from Grinchland. I was confused as to what we were going to do there as I pulled onto Main Street. It wasn’t until she guided me to their city park that I realized her plan.
“Ice skating?” I asked as I obeyed her instructions to turn left into the parking lot.
“Ice skating,” she repeated as she looked over at me. “Have you ever gone?”
I turned off the engine and pulled my keys from the ignition. “Once when I was ten. My pops wanted me to be the next Wayne Gretzky, but the moment I got on the ice, I fell on my butt. That was the end of my career.”
Those words made me pause. This was the second time today that holiday memories from my childhood had resurfaced. First with the smell of Clara’s shampoo and now this. I actively tried not to be a sentimental person, and yet here I was, practically skipping down memory lane.
Her eyebrows were knit together and I chuckled. She could list every reindeer that pulled Santa’s sleigh, but she didn’t know who Wayne Gretzky was.
“Famous hockey player.”
Her lips parted into an O. “Well, let’s see how it goes this time.” As she passed by me, she bumped me with her shoulder. “Maybe we’ll discover your true calling in life.”
I stared at her as she wrapped her hand around Isabelle’s and they walked together toward the entrance of the skating rink. I wasn’t sure if it was from the sensation of her shoulder on mine or the motherly way she looked down at my daughter with wide eyes and full attention, but my entire body felt frozen in time. Like this was a moment I never wanted to forget.
An ache of sadness rushed through my chest. This was a moment Nicole would never get to have with her daughter. I waited for the pain and grief that always followed thoughts of Nicole, but they never came. Instead, this sense of peace settled around me. It was as if Nicole were here, witnessing what was transpiring between our daughter and Clara. And for some strange reason, it felt like this had been her plan all along.
Almost as if…she’d sent Clara to us.
“Daddy!”
Isabelle’s voice snapped me from my trance. I blinked, trying to clear my mind and focus on the present. I combed through the crowd of people until I found my daughter. She was standing at the ticket booth with Clara, and they were both staring at me expectantly. I didn’t want either to ask me if I was okay, so I nodded and hurried to join them.
After our tickets were purchased and we were through the turnstile, Clara took both our shoe sizes and hurried off to rent some skates. I followed Isabelle to the rink, where she rose up onto her tiptoes so she could see over the barrier. Her eyes locked on a group of girls who were dressed in sequin leotards and tulle skirts. They were engaged in some synchronized skating.
I’d never seen my daughter’s eyes so wide.
