Page 40 of Grinchland
“Maybe ice skating isn’t your calling,” Clara said. The strain of keeping me upright was evident in her voice.
I started to tell her that I was more than happy to wait off the ice, but she just motioned with her head toward the rink that stretched out in front of us.
“Come on. It’s the standing still that’ll get you. It’s best to keep moving.”
With my hand in hers, she started to skate. I tried to follow her lead. I tried to match her rhythm as she pushed her skates forward, but I was struggling. I was waiting for her to call it quits, but those words never came. Instead, she just offered me words of encouragement as we slowly crossed the ice.
On the second trip around the rink, I glanced over at her. I was more confident, even though I was far from the smooth glide that seemed to come naturally to everyone else. When Isabelle passed by us and I saw the look of pure joy on her face, the desire to thank Clara rose up inside of me, and there was no way I was going to be able to keep it in much longer.
Even though Clara and I were opposites when it came to Christmas, I couldn’t deny that spending time with her had been good for Isabelle. And when it came to my daughter, nothing mattered more to me.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice low and filled with emotion that startled even me.
Clara glanced over. “For what?”
I paused, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. I wanted to be specific. While I was grateful for her introducing my daughter to new things, that didn’t carry over to Clara’s flagrant disregard for the no-Christmas laws in Grinchland.
“I guess I always saw winter activities as steeped in Christmas, but you helped me see that I was wrong. I’ve kept my daughter away from things that she so obviously adores.” I nodded toward Isabelle, who was a few feet off. She’d stopped to admire the dancing princesses as they moved past her.
When Clara didn’t answer right away, I glanced over to see that her expression had stilled and she looked deep in thought. Had she heard me?
“Clara?” I asked.
Her gaze snapped to mine and a smile emerged. A smile that quickened my heart rate. I inwardly shushed it because that was not what I was here to do.
“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice soft as she gently squeezed my hand. “Although, I really do think you should give Christmas another chance. I’m of the belief that steeping activities in Christmas spirit actually makes things better, not worse.”
I raised an eyebrow. This I had to hear. “Is that so? Can you give me an example?”
Clara dropped her gaze as a thoughtful expression emerged. Then she smiled back up at me. “Christmas cookies. Christmas trees. Christmas ice sculptures.” She sighed. “They even just sound better.”
I frowned. “That’s only three things.”
“Christmas music. Christmas lights. Christmas movies.” She paused before she shrugged. “Even kisses.”
Heat pricked at the back of my neck. I whipped my gaze to meet hers, wondering where she was going with this. “Kisses?” I asked before I could stop myself. I knew I shouldn’t encourage her, not when my body temperature was rising to a heat that could melt this entire rink. But I was curious. The other six examples I understood, but kisses? I had to hear this.
Clara glanced over at me with a shy smile. “Haven’t you ever had a mistletoe kiss?”
“A mistletoe kiss?”
She nodded. “It’s like a kissing booth, but better. The anticipation. The waiting. Wondering if the person you want to kiss will take the opportunity to meet you under the mistletoe.” She shrugged. “It’s like nothing you’ll ever experience.”
I really didn’t know what to say to that other than, “Huh.” I’d never shared a mistletoe kiss, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand here and listen to her talk about what it was like to experience one.
I was a man after all.
Clara shrugged. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
Thankfully, Isabelle caught up with us, and Clara went from talking about mistletoe kisses to praising my daughter. They decided that it was best to leave me waiting along the wall so the two of them could go off together. I was the unwanted weight that was holding them back.
Once I had something sturdy to hold onto, I half skated–half walked my way back to the opening of the rink and out onto the rubber flooring. As soon as I got to the bench, I collapsed on it. I couldn’t take the skates off fast enough, and I exhaled with pure joy once my shoes were back on and I could stand without the fear of falling over.
I returned my skates to the rental counter and spent the rest of the time watching Clara coach my daughter. Isabelle gained confidence, and every so often she let go of the walker and took a few glides forward unassisted.
She was a chatterbox all the way home. I sat back in the driver’s seat, my hand resting on the steering wheel as I listened to Clara engage her in conversation. Isabelle was determined to come back here to practice, and I was not allowed to say no.
I just smiled as I stared at the road in front of me. If only Isabelle knew that saying no to her was impossible. I’d seen the spark in her eyes. If she wanted to become an ice skater, I was not in the business of standing in the way of her dreams.
