Page 24 of Christmas on Ice
“Yes!” Ryleigh’s lower lip trembled. “I have to go to the dirty old barn Saturday so I can’t see Santa!”
“Santa?” Kami knitted her brows.
“The Santa Express!” Dmitri, Natasha’s five-year-old brother, looked up from his tablet and bounced in his seat. “We wear our pajamas and go on the train, and we drink hot chocolate and the train brings us to Santa’s workshop!”
“It’s so fun,” Natasha said. “And Ava and her mommy and daddy are coming, too.”
Kami closed her eyes, but I saw the pain in them before they closed. I knew she couldn’t miss her research day. I hated that she was a single mom and had to constantly make choices between Ryleigh and work.
“What if I took her?” I blurted before I could think. All the heads at the table turned to look at me, including Kami’s. She looked surprised.
Crap.I should not have said that in front of Ryleigh. If Kami said no, she’d look like the bad guy.
Ryleigh squealed. “Pretty please, Mommy? I’ll be the goodest girlever!”
Kami looked back and forth between me and Ryleigh. “Um…”
“We’ll keep an eye on them.” Kira winked at me, her accent thick to my overworked ears. “No trouble. Ryleighisgood girl. Just pack a bag, dress her in jammies, and we will all watch her and make sure she has fantastic time. Yes?”
Ryleigh stood on her chair and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Pleeeeeeesh?” she muffled, rubbing her face into Kami’s shirt.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Kami asked me. “What about helping Brenna at the barn?”
“I’d love to,” I said. And I meant it. This little girl had taken up as much space in my heart as her mother had. “I can help another time if Trotter can’t find enough hands.”
“Okay, then. I’ll talk to Auntie Brenna, Ryleigh.”
“Yay!” Ryleigh squeezed her mom harder, and Kami kissed the top of her head. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, and it hit me right in the gut. Was she sad she couldn’t come? Or about something else?
I wouldn’t ask. I would make sure Ryleigh had the best damn time possible on the Santa Express.
But right now, I had an important stop to make.
I said my goodbyes, promised Ryleigh I’d see her soon, and headed out to my truck. On the front seat, I adjusted the large bag from Sunflower Bakery to make sure it didn’t slide while I drove. I fussed with the pink bow that tied the handles together. Doing so reminded me I hadn’t called my parents yet today.
As my truck warmed up, I dialed my mother’s number. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Mama. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Hey, baby. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you called. You know it’s a day-to-day thing.”
“Yeah.” And I felt guilty on the days I didn’t call. I was always afraid of how she might sound, and that messed with my mind on game days. How could I play hockey when I knew my mother was suffering? So most days, I texted her.
“Did you go by the house yet?” she asked. The house was an old mauve-colored Victorian on the edge of Palmer City, just a short walk from the cancer treatment center. A foundation funded the room and board of patients who were too far from home to drive in regularly or had no support system. Our family had often visited the one near us, and I’d picked up the tradition when I moved to Palmer City.
“I’m on my way there now.”
“Those are some lucky ladies, Trask. I’m so proud of you for the time you spend there and for your gifts to them. I know you’d do the same if you were here.”
“I would.”
We chatted a little bit longer, and then I pulled out of the lot. Carnation House was about a half hour’s drive away in Colorado Springs. I pulled into the circular driveway and parked in front of the entrance. I didn’t plan to stay today, and I knew if I parked there, Joy, the owner, would hustle me out for blocking the driveway.
I rang the bell, and seconds later, Joy flung open the door and flashed me a wide grin. “Trask Emerson, aren’t you looking fine today!” She stared up at me through black-rimmed glasses as I returned the grin. At least eighty, round, and barely five feet tall, she was a ray of sunshine on this cold winter day in her flowery print dress.
“As are you, Ms. Joy. Fine as a sunny summer day. You’re wearing a dress.”
