Page 45 of Mine For The Winter

“Thanks for coming, Kris.”

“It was a pleasure, kid.” He pushed himself to his feet and followed the other parents out. Then he heard the boy sitting next to Cole speak to him.

“Is that your dad?”

“No. But they’re real close, so he’s kind of like a dad to me.”

Kris felt a shiver snake down his spine. He was nowhere near a dad. He hadn’t met the kid until the other week. Hadn’t seen Lyle since Kris left town before Cole was born.

But he knew that need to belong. That urge to be the same as everybody else. To have something that the rest of the world seemed to take for granted.

But still, he needed to say something to Kelly, because he’d promised not to break the boy’s heart.

And now he knew exactly what she was afraid of.

13

The Tavern was half full when the door opened and her dad hobbled in. He was using his cane all the time now, and she could tell by the way his face was crumpled up that the pain was getting to be too much.

“Hey.” She gave him a big smile. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“You messaged me.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I know, but I expected you to reply with a message. Not come here. Who gave you a ride?”

“Charlie Shaw was coming this way. Wanted a coffee if you know what I mean.” He winked and Kelly shook her head. The garage owner’s supposed relationship with Dolores was becoming a big talking point in town, especially for her dad’s generation.

“I told him it might be time to rename the coffee shop,” her dad said, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t think any part of Dolores will be cold after he’s done with her.”

“Dad!” Kelly widened her eyes.

“Just saying what I see.” He shrugged. “So what’s up with this urgent message anyway?”

“I told you, I need to find some documents.”

“Why?” Her dad leaned heavily on the bar.

She’d spent an hour going through the filing cabinets, but there was no sign of the deeds that the bank manager wanted to see. Everything was a mess. Her dad’s filing system consisted of throwing paper into the nearest folder.

When the holidays were over she was determined to go through it all and clean it up.

“I just need them for something.”

He tipped his head to the side, his eyes narrow. “You know when you’re evasive you look just like your mom.”

“Don’t say that.” Kelly frowned.

“Doesn’t mean anything.” He shrugged. “She was a beautiful woman.

“I know she was.” Kelly couldn’t remember her mom being evasive, though. It was funny how your memories shifted and morphed as you got older. Her recollections of her mom were hazy, dappled in summer sun and turned brown at the edges. She could remember her smile, her laugh.

The way she always smelt of lavender.

But she couldn’t remember her mom avoiding anything. Or getting angry, even though logically she knew her mom must have at some point.

One of the things nobody ever told you when you lost your mom was that you lost your terms of reference, too. When Kelly had brought Cole home from the hospital, his body still curled up like he was in utero, his face scrunched up and angry, she’d longed for her mom’s calm advice.

Longed to have her warm voice in her ear, telling Kelly that it would be okay. That Cole wouldn’t scream forever.

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