Page 101 of O Goalie Night
“Yeah.” She sighs contentedly against me. “I’m guessing it’s also too soon to tell you I love you, too?”
“Most likely.” Our mouths meet in the dark, ending the discussion. I listen to her breathe as she falls asleep, feeling happier than I ever have.
CHAPTER 40
BETH
The only way to describe the last twenty-four hours is chaos.
I arrived at school yesterday morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed thanks to the Foster James wake up method. Never have I ever had three orgasms before my morning coffee, but I am not complaining.
Bliss. That’s what it’s like being back home with Foster. Pure, undiluted bliss.
It’s not my home for much longer, though.
A stone forms in my throat and sinks to my stomach knowing my time at Foster’s place is limited.
But I’m not going to dwell on that right now. I’ll move into my new place after Christmas and see Foster as much as I can. Things are good and they’ll only get better.
I may be back on cloud nine, but this week my students were at an all-time low. Ever since they learned that Skate Day wasn’t happening, they’ve been dragging themselves through the school days. You would think they’d cancelled Christmas itself.
Just before first recess yesterday, we received a high-priority email from the office. Apparently they were able to secure another rink for tomorrow at the last minute. Parents were being notified immediately, permission slips were being sent out, and transportation was being arranged.
But somehow, it all came together! Now as I’m walking the world’s most excited fourth graders through the parking lot of the arena, skates in hand, I think I might be more giddy than they are. My first public skate. And on Otters home ice, no less.
“I can’t believe they booked this place,” Tamara says, glancing up at the tall building. “We normally go to a little community rink. This is insane.”
“Christmas miracle,” Jacob agrees. He looks like he might pass out from joy. “I’ve never been on the ice here before. Do you think they’ll let us go into the dressing rooms?”
I raise an eyebrow at him and he reddens.
“You know,” he clears his throat. “For the kids.”
Right.
“What time is your flight?” Tamara asks as we approach the entrance.
“Seven-forty-five this evening.” I can’t wait to hug my sisters and see how strong Grandma’s Egg Nog is this year. I wonder which ugly festive sweater my dad is going to wear on Christmas Eve. I’m even looking forward to my mother’s passive aggressive comments about my physical appearance. That’s how homesick I am.
But even though I’ve been counting the days until I see my family, leaving is bittersweet. I would have loved to have a bit of holiday time with Foster. I’m so happy he’shaving Christmas dinner with his brother, but I hate to think of him being all alone the rest of the break.
The students file through the zamboni entrance into the rink. I expect the noise from all the kids to be deafening, but instead an awed hush falls over them. Once everyone’s inside, I follow after them and understand why.
The overhead lights aren’t on in the arena, but the room is still bright enough that my eyes don’t need to adjust. Hundreds of small snowflake lights circle the room slowly, dancing over every surface. I can’t tell where the projector is, but they are everywhere.
Lined up along the zamboni path are several pop-up stands. I see balloon animals and cotton candy machines. There’s a hot cocoa station and somewhere there must be Beavertails because I can smell their doughy, cinnamon goodness.
It’s incredible. Like something out of a Hallmark movie.
I look at my students’ faces to see their reaction to the splendour, but they aren’t looking at the brightly coloured stalls. They’re staring slack-jawed at the ice where several pro hockey players appear to be waiting for them.
Foster, Ben, and half a dozen other Otters stand smiling and waving to the kids from centre ice. While not in full gear, just jerseys, jeans, and helmets, they are still an impressive sight.
“Goooooood morning,” an announcer's animated voice booms over the speakers. “The Ottawa Otters are proud to welcome Stittsville Public to the ice today as honorary Otters! Welcome to Skate Day!”
The players start to clap and cheer for the kids, most of whom are still speechless.
“Did you know about this?” Tamara asks. She’s clearly as dumbfounded as the kids.
