Page 47 of One Chance to Stay
He waved at the couple as he exited the bistro. Everything about this conversation danced between wisdom and insanity, and I couldn’t identify which. Either way, Walter had a big heart, and I didn’t question his good intentions. Some people wanted everybody around them to shine, and because of that, Walter got my seal of approval.
Now, if only I could convince Seamus. I’d brainstorm while I devoured perfectly crispy bacon and the sugary, gooey goodness of maple syrup. The answer would come to me on a full stomach.
SOME WOUNDS LINGER
The voice mail demanding a date had been horrific. Without easy access to a delete key, I had made a fool of myself. Leaning against the shack selling cocoa, I waited for Seamus. A man of few words, he took it to an extreme with texts. Checking my messages again, I had to laugh.
Seamus: Okay.
Firefly during the day could have been the postcard for a winter wonderland. As soon as the snow fell, I expected Santa Claus to emerge from one of the stores, a large red sack slung over his shoulder. If somebody told me he lived down the street, I’d believe them.
At night, something magical happened. As the sun vanished, a chill settled into the air, and its residents could have retreated under blankets and next to potbelly stoves radiating warmth. Hardy folk, or perhaps hearty, they came out in their overstuffed jackets, ready to play.
I stood in front of the hot cocoa shack watching an elderly couple as they tiptoed their way to the ice. I cringed as shealmost fell, her arms flailing. He wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her upright. When she took to the ice, my eyes widened. She spun around backward, picking up speed before taking a small leap. With each trick she performed, he clapped as if he were her number one fan.
“Can I grab another mug?”
The teenager inside the shack gave me a thumbs up and went about preparing more hot chocolate. Each night, high school volunteers from the basketball team took turns making money for new uniforms. My need to keep my hands warm must have bought at least a few jerseys.
“Evening.”
The deep, gravelly voice had me smiling as I slid money across the counter. The young man handed me my drink, piping hot with wisps of steam rising from the surface. I turned to see Seamus wearing his overalls with a thick flannel jacket. The neon orange hat, complete with ear flaps, a staple in Maine, made me giggle.
“Are we going hunting?”
He didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you have planned.”
“Shooting deer in the dark is not on the agenda.”
He nodded. “Good. I don’t like hunting.”
“I would think not.” Every time I imagined the fawn trying to get into his pockets for a snack, I couldn’t help but smile. What Seamus lacked in social skills, he made up for in heart. Whenever he used a monosyllabic reply, I remembered the deer. Gruff? Maybe. A secret softie? Definitely.
He watched as the woman skated literal circles around a couple of teens with hockey sticks. “Who is she?”
“Marigold.”
“Ah, yes. Marigold. How did I not know that?”
“I’m detecting sarcasm.” I shot him a stern look. “The florist. Many years ago, she wanted to be a professional ice skater.”
“What happened?”
He pointed with his chin toward the man, clapping as he took cautious steps along the ice. “She found something she loved more.”
They were an adorable couple, but I was more enraptured by the look on Seamus’s face. It fell somewhere between bitter and longing. For him, I’m not sure they were very far apart.
“Seamus Finnigan.” He came to. “Are you a softie?”
He grumbled.
“Since you’re here, I could use your help.”
“With?”
I didn’t answer as I walked along the cement path winding through the center of the green. When he didn’t follow, I waved him along. Shaking his head, he thrust his hands in his pockets and followed. When he caught up, I thought about holding out my hand, seeing if he’d take the bait and hold it as we walked. As much as I wanted to test his boundaries, I found myself insecure. Coming to grips with our activities in the bedroom was one thing, but out in public? We both needed baby steps.
“Can I ask you a question?”
