Page 25 of Christmas on Ice
She waved her hand. “No need for concern. You know I get dressed up three times a year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. We’ve had this conversation before.”
“We have. But I had to tell you anyway.”
“You flatter me. But I like it.” She shot me a pointed look. “You gonna come in?”
“Not today. But I brought dessert.”
She leaned to the side to look past me. “What’d I tell you about blocking the driveway?”
I shrugged and winked. “I was hoping you’d forgive me when you opened the bag.”
“Oh, really? Awful bold of you to presume.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge.
“So it was wrong of me to ask the bakery to include a separate dozen red velvet petit fours?” I frowned. “I guess I’ll have to eat them myself.”
“You will do no such thing, and you know it. Hand them over.” She stuck out her hand for the bag, and I gave it to her. She peeked inside. “There are three boxes of the red velvet petit fours.”
“Must have been an ordering mistake.” I shrugged.
“That’s too much, Trask.”
“For what you do for these women? It’s not even close to being enough. And I know their families would agree with me if they could be here. It’s Thanksgiving. And we’re all grateful to you.”
She set the bag down and wrapped her arms around my waist. “You’re a gift, Trask Emerson. Thank you.”
14
Kami
“We’ll be fine! Go!” Brenna waved her hand at me as I paused in the doorway for what felt like the tenth time. My heart knew her words were true, but my mind wrestled with the sheer amount of trust I was putting into Trask. What if something happened to Ryleigh and I wasn’t there?
“But—” I glanced at my daughter, snuggled up on the sofa in her Tinker Bell nightgown and pink Santa hat with a plastic sparkly tiara hot-glued to the front above the white furry cuff. In her arms, she clutched a plush Belle doll dressed in her Christmas gown. Unable to find such a thing last Christmas, I called my sister Khloe and asked her to custom-make the burgundy and gold outfit for a stuffed version I’d found of Ryleigh’s favorite princess.
I should be taking her to this, or at least her father should. I felt like the worst slacker parent. It was already noon, and if I didn’t leave soon, I’d make Brenna late for the meeting with her cousin Liam.
“But nothing. Get out of your head.” Brenna’s expression softened. “I know you want to go, but eyes on the prize, okay? You’ve got to finish your research. After this weekend, you may not get the chance until the ground thaws in a few months.”
“You’re right,” I conceded, hanging my head. The tools I had access to for sampling wouldn’t do well on frozen ground. It was now or never. I sighed. “You’re sure you’ve got this? And you’ll be available if anything happens?”
“YouknowI will, Kam.” She smiled. “Let’s go over this one more time. You’re taking my car.” She handed me her keys. “I’m meeting Liam, Brendan, and whatever friends he has at the barn with Ryleigh at twelve thirty. Trask will pick her up there at one o’clock for the Santa train ride and leave me his truck. I’ll buckle Ryleigh into her car seat, and he’ll take your car to the train station. Boarding is at two o’clock. They’ll return to the station by seven, he’ll drop Ryleigh and your car off here afterward, and she and I will snuggle in for the night until you get back. Did I miss anything?”
“No.” I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder. It was heavy and awkward with all the gear I’d need to collect soil samples at my sites. Many of the tools didn’t exactly fit and stuck out of the top of my pack. I would have preferred to go earlier in the morning, but Brenna had gotten called in to help with the breakfast rush at Brewski’s. I’d assured her I’d still have plenty of time before sunset to do most of what I needed to do, and as a precaution I’d save my easiest-to-access site for last. She already helped me so much I didn’t mind working around her schedule.
“Then I’ll see you tonight, Kami.Don’t worry.”She gently pushed me out the door.
I nodded. “Okay. See you tonight.”
The drive out to the sites was pleasant. It was a mild late November day, by Colorado standards. Back home, if it got this cold, we’d be huddled up indoors by a fire and layered up in our warmest clothes.
I was still layered up, but I liked the brisk mountain air. It was rejuvenating, clear, and fresh, a direct contrast to the heavy, muggy, humid warmth of the Lowcountry in South Carolina.
I was appreciative of the little “heat wave” we’d had this week. It had melted the snow enough so as to keep my sites accessible, and at the same time, it offered an added bonus to my research on how weathering affected the soil.
As I trudged up the path to my first site, I tried to clear my head and focus on my work. When I reached the glen where I’d first decided to focus my dissertation on weathering patterns on soil structure and texture, I stood for a moment to take in the surroundings and fight back memories of happier, easier times.
Sutton and I had found this spot on one of our first hikes when we’d moved here. All it needed was a Tudoresque cottage to make it a storybook setting. It even had a quaint bubbling brook. In the summertime, it was lush with vegetation: pines, birch, and wildflowers rich in color and variety. Now, the birch and other deciduous trees had shed their leaves. The grass had lost its green hue, and the water in the brook reflected a gray sky, unlike the vibrant blue of a clear summer day.
But had they been happier and easier? Or did I just tell myself that because that’s what I wanted to think?
