Page 39 of Grinchland
“Daddy,” she whispered as her hand found my forearm and she began to shake it. “Daddy,” she whispered again, never pulling her gaze from the girls. “Daddy!” she said, more desperate the third time.
I crouched down so I was eye level with her. “What?” I asked.
“Do you see them? Do you see the princesses?” she asked as she pointed her little forefinger in their direction.
“Princesses? Where?” I asked, my tone turned teasing.
“There,” she said, exasperated. How could I not see what she was seeing.
“I’m not sure…”
Her gaze snapped to mine and her eyes widened like she was daring me to say I couldn’t see them. I chuckled and held up my hands. “I see them. I see them,” I said.
That seemed to satisfy her as she turned her attention back to the girls. I realized that there was no way I could compete with princesses on skates, so I sat down on the bench next to her and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I let my mind wander.
What had that been earlier? It had been months since I’d felt Nicole’s presence. There was a time I’d feared I was going to forget her altogether. I poured myself into our daughter and Grinchland. But today, while watching Clara and Isabelle, I felt her again.
I felt her peace. It was something that I’d missed and longed for.
“I’ve got them,” Clara sang out.
I glanced over to see her with three sets of ice skates slung over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened when she caught my gaze. My stomach lightened at the sight of her. It was in stark contrast to how I reacted during our first few interactions.
I shook my head. I needed to get my mind right. We were here to stop Clara from talking to the town council. We were here to stop her from “saving” Christmas. My mission was simple: survive the full seven days and then watch her walk away from Grinchland with my bylaws still intact.
I was doing this so everything could return to normal.
We put on our ice skates, and as soon as I stood, I knew I’d made a mistake. My ankle just about gave out as I stood on the thin blades. Whoever thought that pushing yourself around ice on a tiny piece of metal was a good idea should have their head examined.
Clara held both of Isabelle’s hands as she helped her to the rink. I wanted to call Clara back and ask her to help me as well, but I decided against it. It was better to figure this out on my own than admit that I was not cut out for it.
Thankfully, in four long steps I was to the barrier. I tried to hide how hard I was clinging to it as I gingerly stepped out onto the ice. Clara had left Isabelle in search of a walker for her to use. When she came back, I wanted to ask for one for me, but I decided against it. Instead, I hung onto Isabelle’s walker for dear life, much to her chagrin.
“Daddy,” she complained as she shook the walker in an attempt to free herself from me. “Daddy.”
I ignored her. There was no way I was going to let go. I knew as soon as I did, my feet would slip out from under me and I’d slam into the ice. When I was a kid, I had no problem bouncing back. But as a thirty-year-old man, I was sure something was bound to break.
“Everything okay?” Clara asked. When I glanced up, I could see that her question was directed to me, not Isabelle.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, glancing down at my daughter. “She’s getting the hang of it.” I forced a smile as I turned my attention back to Clara.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Daddy, you need to let go,” Isabelle said, more forceful this time. Her face was scrunched up in annoyance as she stared up at me. I could tell that she wanted to take off, but my weight was holding her back.
“Here,” Clara said with a soft chuckle. She extended her hand and wiggled her fingers. “I’ll help your daddy stay upright so you can go.”
I stared at her hand, knowing what it meant, but unable to actually take it. I tried to tell her no, but she just sighed and rested her hand on my left one.
“Come on. I don’t bite.”
“Yeah, Daddy. Ms. Snow’s got you.” Isabelle was trying to be patient, but I could hear it waning in the tone of her voice.
I wanted to reject Clara’s invitation. I wanted to tell her that I was fine. That Isabelle was fine. But I also didn’t want to keep holding my daughter back. Ice skating might not be my true calling, but it could be Isabelle’s, and who was I to keep that dream from her.
Just as I straightened, taking my weight off the walker, Isabelle took that as her sign to get moving. She pushed forward. And in an effort to keep myself upright, I scrambled to grab Clara’s hand. She held me up as I got my feet under me and my weight distributed. Our hands were clasped and she was staring up at me as if to ask if I was okay.
“I’m good, I’m good,” I said at the same time my feet began to shift, and I had to scramble to keep them under me again.
