Page 71 of Lovingly Restored

Chapter twenty-three

Isaac

Anothersnowballexplodesbetweenmy shoulder blades, and I yelp as the cold flakes fall into my collar.

“You brat!”

Damn, she has a good arm on her.

I grab a tightly packed ball from my stash and peer through the trees for signs of movement, but all is white and still. The trees aren’t massive, but neither is Ashlyn, so she has the advantage of hiding during this stealthy, cutthroat snowball fight. A branch snaps on my left. I hold my breath, lungs burning, like that’ll help me. My ass sticks out so far beyond this tree that a four-year-old would have a clear shot. I hear the sound again and grip the snowball lightly in my ski glove.

Movement catches my eye, a doe emerging from some dense foliage and into our small clearing. She glides silently, sniffing the air, knowing exactly where we are. Ah, there’s my girl. Ashlyn’s crouching behind a trunk, watching the same live episode of Planet Earth that I am. Our eyes meet across the clearing. She points at the deer with a mitten covered hand, then places a finger to her lips. The deer’s eyes are round, ready to bolt at the slightest whiff of fear. Two braids peek out beneath Ashlyn’s pink toque, a matching pom-pom swaying in the light wind. Puffs of vapour escape her mouth, reminding me of her hot breath. My phone buzzes against my thigh a second before it rings. There’s no way I can get it out of my pocket in time to silence the noise, and the interruption startles the deer. Her head snaps up to assess the situation then she darts away, pushing powerfully off her hind legs. Ashlyn scowls as I remove my glove, mouthing an apology.

“Hi.”

“Isaac. I was at your grandmother’s today.” My dad starts.

“How is she?” My heart speeds up, sensing confrontation.

“Why is she talking about Ashlyn going to some cabin? You told me she needed time off for a family matter.”

The thought that Ashlyn does seem like family comes naturally.

When I don’t answer, he continues, “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome when it comes to squatting at the house.”

“Squatting? Really?” I work hard to keep my voice level, but he riled me up in one minute flat. Every word with him is a weapon, every sentence an articulated attack.

“What else do you call it if you’re not paying rent and it’s not your house?”

“It’s not your house either, last time I checked.”

“That’s only a matter of time.”

My voice lowers an octave, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Watch your tone when speaking to me, young man.”

Ashlyn leans against a birch tree, resting her cheek on the grey bark, chewing her bottom lip.

“Yes, why not do some parenting now? I’m only in my thirties? It’s never too late!”

I have no idea what it’s like to parent a child after your spouse walks out. Something tells me my first instinct wouldn’t be shipping my kid off to the grandparents. My future kids won’t even have grandparents on my side. Not if this is how my dad continues to conduct himself. To always keep me at arm’s length. That works me up even more.

“I allowed it at first, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be living there,” he says.

“Once again, it’s not your house. And appropriate for who? I love spending time with Mummo, and she’s keeping me busy around the house.”

He pauses before letting out a fake laugh. “You’re busy I bet. And I imagine it’s with the little nurse.”

My free hand forms a fist, and I press it against the tree nearest me, trying to stay cool. Ashlyn falls back into the snow to make a snow angel, oblivious to the conversation.

“Don’t be disgusting. Ashlyn does her job perfectly.”

He lets out a low whistle. “That good, eh?”

From her spot in the snow, she calls out, “Everything okay? Get over here!”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I have crap luck, he hears her over the line.

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