Kiss and Don't Tell(54)
“I think your mom and I would’ve gotten along very well.”
“I can easily agree with that. She’d have really liked you.” Winnie pauses for a second and then she continues, “So while Mom was dressing up the front of the store with dirty books, I was taking care of the back with all the children’s books. Our neighbor was good with woodworking, so he helped me cut some trees out of wood, and I spent a good portion of my weekend making wooden trees from recycled materials and scattering them throughout the space until it felt like a jungle. In the middle of the jungle, I made a circle-time area, and I would have a theme for the week for story time. I figured out what time worked best for the moms around the neighborhood, and before I knew it, we had a full story time, every day, twice a day. After story time, we did a craft that corresponded with the story. It was . . . it was a lot of fun, and there was something about seeing the connection between the parent and the child enjoying something that felt satisfying. My mom and I loved each other so much, and I saw the same love reflected in others.”
“I can see how that would be very satisfying; bringing joy to others always feels good.”
“I’m sure you have lots of experience with that.”
I move my hand to her waist, easing up on my hold since she seems to be more relaxed now. “There’s a tradition I have, where I toss a practice puck over the wall before every game. While we warm up, I scan the crowd for a kid who I think deserves it, and then I skate over to them and toss it over.”
“How do you pick them out?”
“Depends. Sometimes it’s because of a sign they worked hard on. Sometimes it’s just a feeling I get, that maybe they need this puck to help them believe in something. Sometimes it’s because I can see a sense of failure in a parent, as if they don’t have as much pride as they should, and tossing a puck to their kid would make things that much better. Remember, I’m good at reading people.”
“Yes, I do know that. You’re also good at handling people. I feel very at ease with you, which is so strange, because I felt it right away, as though I knew I was going to be safe with you around.”
“That’s a pretty big compliment,” I say while moving my hand over the scruff of my jaw. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“No, thank you.” She lifts up so our eyes connect, and I get lost in the deep blue of her irises. “This has been a lovely day, and I don’t think I thanked you for lunch. God.” She shakes her head. “I’m so unappreciative.”
“You’re not. I can see that you’re grateful. You don’t have to say thank you.”
“But I should. So, thank you, Pacey. I’m not sure you know how much I needed this, this help. I was really scared to come here, but I did it on a whim anyway. When Minnie got stuck, I was horrified that I had ended up in a really bad situation. But now, I don’t feel quite as alone as I did when I first left Seattle.”
“I’m glad you stumbled into our cabin.”
She leans her head back on my shoulder. We stay like that for the rest of the trip up the mountain, embracing one another, and I feel a deep level of appreciation for her. I’ve not really had many girlfriends over the years. Not had the time. So, I can’t recall the last time I just hung out with a woman like this. Carefree. Relaxed. Content.
And as I pull her a little closer, I realize that I’m not going to want to let go of this girl right away. I know it’s way too early to say anything to her and she’s going through a lot with her mom and her uncle, but Seattle isn’t that far from Vancouver. I would want to see her whenever she decides to leave. We could make something work, that is, if she wants to make something work.
Who knows?
This could be a blip in the road for her, whereas I don’t see it that way. I see it as a fork in the road, and I can either move on once she leaves, or I can follow the path that attempts to date this girl.
It’s an easy choice for me. But will her heart want someone like me?
“This isn’t good,” Winnie says as she attempts to rise from the bench where we chose to sit and share our caramel apple.
“What isn’t good?” I ask.
She slowly stands and then looks me in the eyes. “I’m already starting to get very sore from our workout this morning.”
I can’t help it, I chuckle. “It’s a good sore. Shows that you put in the time.”
“Don’t say that to me tomorrow when I can’t get out of bed.” She picks up our trash and throws it away before coming back to where I’m still sitting on the bench. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying the view,” I answer.
She turns around toward the mountains and says, “Yeah, I think I filled my phone with pictures.”
“I wasn’t talking about that view.”
She glances back at me and then throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, Pacey, I didn’t peg you for being corny.”
I stand from the bench and take her hand in mine. “And what did you peg me as?”
“You know what I thought you were—the ladies’ man of the team.”
“Yeah, and that could not be further from the truth.”
“Oh? Please do elaborate on that.”
Ever since we made it to the top, her spirit has picked up . . . along with her teasing. I like it, a lot.