Page 74 of Breaking the Ice

He waited patiently, megaphone in hand, until it chimed its last chime then he spoke, urging the crowd to sit. He was wearing shorts that hugged his hockey thighs to perfection and the same Martha T-shirt as everyone else but possibly wearing itbetterthan anyone else.

She sat down on the impossibly green lawn and drank him in as he began to talk. The crowd hushed, wooed by his natural charisma as he laid out his powerful arguments. They clapped him when he rattled off the city icons that had disappeared over the last few decades through greed and apathy. They cheered when he talked about the rich history of Martha’s Teahouse and its enduring legacy. And they booed when he mentioned the politicians and pen-pushers and their complete inaction and disinterest.

Samantha wasn’t the only one in the crowd who could feel his energy and charisma. The two twenty-something women sitting beside her were digging him big time.

“Omigod, Dee! We really need to start watching hockey,” said the black woman with funky sunglasses and cornrows.

“You aresoooright, Shelby,” the white woman with blonde hair and a beret concurred. “That man can park his puck under my bed any day.”

They both laughed hysterically and clapped loudly as Nick made another salient point and Samantha barely suppressed the urge to growlback off, he’s mine! Which was, of course, totally irrational. Just because he’d kissed her in an alley, made out with her in an elevator, nearly made her come on her birthdayandtold her he thought about having sex with her all the time, didn’t mean he was hers.

“And finally, I’d like to say before I finish that I have a friend who is totally addicted to Martha’s orange and poppy-seed friands. Thanks to her I get to share in her daily fix. I’ve also seen her go a day without and it’s an experience I never want to repeat. Please, I beg of you, if for no other reason, we have to save the Teahouse or my life is going to be hell.”

A wave of goosebumps spread from her scalp to her toes as Nick shared the anecdote with the crowd.Theiranecdote. Nick had shared a slice of their life with a square crowded with strangers and yet it had felt strangely intimate. She was absurdly moved as Nick urged everyone one last time to sign the petition and to call their local official to object.

“Omigod!” Shelby grabbed her chest dramatically as everyone clapped and cheered him off the stage. “Lucky girl.”

“Come on,” Dee said, dragging her friend to her feet. “Let’s go meet him.”

Samantha stood to follow but was pulled up short by a twinge low in her abdomen. It was eerily familiar and she shut her eyes momentarily. Oh no!Not now. Not today. Another twinge hit her along with a wave of nausea and she knew from bitter experience that in about two hours the pain would be crippling. And her back would be on fire and she would be vomiting.

And if she was really unlucky, a thumping headache would round it all off.

She did some quick calculations in her head. Her period wasn’t due for three days.Damn, damn, damn. She’d promised Dulcie she’d hand out leaflets with her in the square straight after the rally. But she knew the only way to minimize what was to come was to go to bed. Directly to bed. Do not stop to hand out leaflets. Do not do favors.

She needed medication, a shower and a hot water bottle. Her stomach twinged again. It had been almost a year since she’d had a period this bad. As a teenager she used to get them everymonth until her doctor had put her on the pill and miraculously eased her monthly torture. But even so, she occasionally still had a doozey.

“There you are, dear.” Dulcie appeared, beaming at her like they’d already won. “I have the leaflets. Are you ready?”

Samantha looked into the octogenarian’s bright eager eyes and knew she couldn’t disappoint Martha’s most ardent supporter. Dulcie had been the backbone of the protest.

Smiling weakly, she nodded. “Sure.”

She could probably spare Dulcie an hour before crying off and slinking home even if she did feel guilty about already plotting her desertion. But she had been here too many times to not know how ugly it was going to get.

Forty-five minutes later Samantha could take it no longer. She was about to cross to the other side of the square and apologize to Dulcie when Nick turned up. Her back ached and her intestines felt like they were being grinded in a blender and she had to lean against a wall for support. An awning overhead provided shade but she felt faint from the warmth of the day.

“Hey.”

He flashed her a smile and, at any other time she would have admired his ability to pull such a hundred watter but she was barely keeping upright. She was starting to tremble and sweat had popped on her brow.

“Hey.” Samantha pushed away from the wall, swaying a little as a wave of nausea hit.

“Whoa.” Nick caught her as she stumbled. “Samantha? What’s wrong?”

She leaned into him, absorbing some of his strength. “Migraine.” Which wasn’t really a lie considering she’d most likely have one of those soon enough. “I need to go home.”

“Can you walk?” he asked as he continued to support her and gather her things.

Samantha nodded because she worried if she opened her mouth she might vomit.

Dulcie was suddenly there. “Goodness, Nick. Sam, what on earth’s the matter?”

Samantha shut her eyes and leaned into Nick as he replied. “Migraine. She’ll be fine but she needs to go home and get into bed.”

She wanted to protest that she could walk but, in all honestly, the task felt beyond her and when he was ushered her into a cab moments later – after politely refusing an autograph from someone who clearly couldn’t read the room – she could have kissed him.

“I’ll get you into bed and call a doctor,” he said as he helped her out of the cab fifteen minutes later.

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