Page 29 of Christmas on Ice
“This!” She pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and brought it to me. I lifted her onto my lap and looked at the drawing. “It’s my list for Santa. My teacher help-ded me.” Half a dozen smiley-face circles rested on two vertical lines. A horizontal line came out the side of each face where ears would be located—if she’d drawn them. Scribbles of blue, green, red, purple, yellow, and pink covered the vertical lines, while brown and yellow etching decorated the tops of the heads.
I was surprised at all the details she’d included. An adult hand had labeled each drawing. “You did a great job, Ry.”
“I know.” She pointed at the picture. “These are pretty dresses I want. All of them! And a puppy, but my teacher said I should tell Mommy about the puppy, not Santa. Can you mail my list to him? I forgotted to bring it to him. He said to give it to someone I trust.”
I kissed the top of her head and forced back the water that stung my eyes. “Of course.”
“Thank you!” She slid off my lap and ran back to the toy box, flinging out dolls and other things. She’d all but disappeared inside when she straightened up again.
She carried another piece of paper to me. “This is Mommy’s list. I made-ed it for her. It’s asecret.”
On the paper was a figure similar to the princesses but with green almost-rectangles dancing on the page like large confetti. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I used the go-to my sister Marsha taught me to ask Mylee when I wanted her to explain something. “Tell me about it.”
Ryleigh pointed to the figure. “This is Mommy. And this”—her little finger pointed to each of the green shapes—“is all the money Mommy needs so she doesn’t have to go to work anymore.”
“You don’t want your mommy to work anymore?”
“It’s okay that she workses when I go to school because I don’t miss her. But I don’t like it when she workses when I don’t go to school.”
“Why not? Your mommy’s job is important.” I turned her around to face me. “What don’t you like about it?”
She looked down at the picture, and when she raised her head, her face crumpled. “I want ... I want to be with Mommy all the time. Daddy yells and—and—”
I pulled her to my chest. “It’s okay, baby. You can tell me. And what?” I swore to God if she said her father hurt her, I’d be in jail before morning.
“Carlotta—”
“Who’s Carlotta?”
“Daddy’s girlfriend. She ... she says mean things about Mommy!”
I let out a long breath, relieved that Ryleigh hadn’t been hurt. But it wasn’t okay for some woman to bad-mouth Kami.
“Have you told your daddy? Or your mommy?” I asked.
She nodded. “Carlotta said she would try to be nicer. But she’s not trying very hard.”
“Everything okay in here? I thought I heard crying.” Brenna stood in the doorway.
I nodded. “Ryleigh was just telling me about Carlotta.”
Brenna stiffened and frowned. “I’m familiar. Ryleigh, sweetie, how about that story now? I bet Mr. Trask’s funny voices can make you forget about the not-nice lady.”
I snorted. That was the plan. Though I was a little embarrassed that Ryleigh had told Brenna about my funny voices.
Ryleigh climbed under the covers, and I tucked her in and took my place on the floor next to her low bed. Halfway through the first story, she was asleep. I tiptoed out of the room and shut the door, my heart full.
16
Kami
“There you go, baby. Perfect pom-pom hair!” I lifted Ryleigh to stand on the stool so she could see the transformation. It was a big day for her. Her mini cheer team would be performing at the Christmas at the Plex event. Held annually on the first Saturday of December, it was a fundraiser for multiple programs the sportsplex sponsored and a fun family event. Too bad her dad was “busy with work.”
“I’msopretty, Mommy. My face is like Auntie Chelsea’s at the hockey game!” I grinned as she stared at herself and chattered on about growing up to be a spirit squad member and cheer coach. Her sparkly uniform was accented by a red flare skirt trimmed in faux fur. I’d twisted her hair into space buns and wrapped banana-curled hairpieces around them. Two bedazzled red bows and way too much makeup for an almost-four-year-old completed the look. Tentatively, she pulled at one of the curls and then giggled when she let go and it sprang back into place.
Thiswas worth every extra hour I worked at Brewski’s.
“Is it time to go now?”
