Page 58 of Grinchland
He made me promise not to tell Silas that he was the one who told me the whole story. I made an “x” across my chest and held up my right hand at a ninety-degree angle. That seemed to appease him, and he waited with his front door open as I climbed into my driver’s seat and pulled out of his drive. Once I was heading down his street, he waved and shut the door.
When I got home, I lingered in the driveway with Todd’s words rolling around in my mind. My gaze kept slipping over to Silas’s house, where the curtains were still drawn. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about the pain that little family had experienced. And how I had been completely insensitive to what he’d gone through.
Suddenly, my lawn decorations didn’t bring me as much joy as they used to. Now, they were a representation of my thoughtless behavior. I wanted them gone. I wanted to give Silas a moment of peace. A moment to heal with his daughter.
The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt that little girl. I loved her so much. And if taking them down meant keeping her safe, I’d do that.
It was the least I could do.
After I put my keys and purse in the house, I made my way out to the front porch and reached down to flip off the power bank. All the lights in my yard went dark.
TWENTY-FOUR
SILAS
One week later
I may have gone to the extreme, but I kept Isabelle inside for a good three days with the drapes drawn just to make sure that there was no sign of her retreating into herself. I lived in fear for the first forty-eight hours that I was going to lose my daughter, but by Monday morning, she was just as bouncy and active as ever.
I wanted to keep her home from school until the new year, but she wasn’t having it. When she came down dressed in a tutu and a chunky black sweater, the only thing I could do was pack her lunch, feed her breakfast, and drive her to school.
Thankfully, I didn’t run into Clara in the hallway, and I didn’t linger by the door with the hope that she would come out. Instead, I hugged Isabelle—despite her protests—and then hurried back to my car.
That’s how I did every drop-off for the rest of the week.
Clara kept to herself. She spent the weekend after the play taking down all of her Christmas decorations until there was nothing left. I was grateful for her willingness to comply with the law here in Grinchland. It was nice that I didn’t need to enforce anything.
I tried to ignore my broken heart as I watched her load up the moving truck the next weekend. I was standing off to the side with my coffee cup in hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice that she had an audience. School was over, and it was time for winter break. I could only assume that meant she was headed back to Winter Springs to spend Christmas actually celebrating the holiday.
I told myself it was for the best. That she deserved to find someone who was equally as enthusiastic about Christmas as she was. I wanted to be that man for her, but I was only going to bring her down. I was never going to jeopardize my daughter’s well-being for some twinkle lights and tinsel. And those were the things that made Clara happy.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, watching Clara, but I stayed until the last box was loaded onto the moving truck and the back rolling door was shut and secured. I stayed long enough to see Clara glance up and down the street before her gaze lingered on my house, causing me to tuck myself further into the shadows so she wouldn’t see me.
I stayed to watch her climb into her car and start the engine. And I stayed long after her car drove down the street and disappeared around the corner.
It was strange, Clara leaving. It was as if a light had been turned off both metaphorically and in actuality. I didn’t want to admit it, but that woman had wiggled her way into my life whether I’d wanted her to or not. And now that she was gone…I felt her absence. More acutely than I’d thought I would.
Isabelle and I kept to ourselves during the first few days of winter break. We went to the ice rink a few times, and I stayed on land while she braved the ice herself. Her joy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her gain more confidence in her skating.
She hadn’t brought up Clara since school got out, and I was beginning to feel as if our life was returning to normal until the morning of Christmas Eve. I walked into Isabelle’s room to find her sitting on her floor with her dolls surrounding her. She was hard at work with her little tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth while she glued strips of paper for one of her doll’s clothes.
Clothes that resembled something Clara would have worn.
She looked upset, so I moved to sit down next to her. “Everything okay, peanut?” I asked as I reached out to pick up the uneven star that she’d cut from yellow construction paper.
Isabelle glanced up at me, down to the star, and then back over to her doll. She was quiet for a moment. “Is Ms. Snow mad at me?”
I frowned and shook my head. “No. Ms. Snow isn’t mad at you. Why would you think that?”
Isabelle glanced over to her window. “All the lights stopped and the sounds stopped.” She looked up at me. “She’s gone.”
My heart broke for my daughter. It had to be hard, not understanding why people left you and yet being so acutely aware that they were gone. “She was just here to teach. She went back to her home for the break.” I reached out and tugged her toward me, wrapping my arms around her tiny body.
“Oh.” The word came out small and sad.
I bent forward and saw that her little bottom lip was jutted out, and it broke my heart. I hoisted her up into my lap so I could squeeze her tighter.
“I wish she would stay here forever.”
