44. Kiara
forty-four
Kiara
C olton wraps me back under his arm and squeezes me tight, then kisses the top of my hat. “You okay?” I ask him. He was pulled out from the hearthsong a few minutes ago, but thankfully he’s here for the bonfire.
“I’m good,” he says, but I can tell he’s tense.
The youngest firefighter volunteer lights up the fire, and soon we’re stepping back a few feet under the heat. Faces glow in the warm light and shadows stretch on the church’s white facade. This might be my favorite part of Laskin, when the daylight festivities definitely come to a close, people fighting the cold and darkness with fire and community. This year, I won’t be going alone to my cold apartment after all this is over.
I nestle deeper in Colton’s strong embrace.
“Beer at Lazy’s?” I ask him. “Or soup. Or both.”
He takes a deep breath. “In a bit, sweets. No rush.”
“’Course,” I answer him.
He looks a little worried, or maybe just pensive. “You okay there?” I ask him.
He squeezes my shoulder. “You heard from your family lately?”
I shrug. “Nope.” Though Maya tried to call me at the most inconvenient times. Once when I was reading a book, and the other when I was staring into nothingness, trying to visualize my future after working on my business plan.
“Your sister wants to see you.”
I look up to ask him how he knows, but instead say, “She’s gonna have to wait. I’m not in the mood.”
He kisses me again and turns us toward Lazy’s. “Well, she’s waiting for you at Lazy’s, so why don’t we get this out of the way, uh?”
My feet stop working. “She what ?”
He prompts me forward. “It’s not a big deal. Hear what she has to say and then move on from it.”
I take a deep breath.
I should have answered that fucking phone.
They’re both there, Maya and David, next to each other in a booth. We slide in front of them. They don’t bother with hello.
“Hey,” I say, vaguely worried that she felt the need to come all the way here. It can’t be that something happened to Nana—Uncle Bill would have called. Or Mom, for that matter. What could she possibly want with me? “What’s up?”
“He died last week,” she says, her eyes brimming, reproach clearly on the tip of her tongue.
I lift my eyebrows at her. “Okay.” I’m going to assume we’re talking about our father.
She turns to David and with a smirk, says, “I told you.”
He rounds her shoulders with his arm and gives her a quick squeeze.
“Are you happy?” she asks me, defiance and incredulity in her voice. Back then, it was “Are you happy now ?” Like I’d been the one to betray my whole family. Now, she’s looking at me like she doesn’t know me at all. At least we’re on the same page.
“Are you?” she repeats when I don’t answer.
The past hits me with full force and I feel my eyes tingling. Not at the fact that my father is dead. No. But at the way he could turn his back on us and never see us again. Ever. A wife, two children. Nothing. We meant nothing to him then. We meant nothing to him our whole lives.
“We were nothing to him, Maya.” I return her stare, my jaw hurting from clenching it so hard. I barely register the warmth on my side as Colton slides closer to me, then wraps his arm around my shoulders.
Maya’s cold rage drips with contempt. She turns to David. “See? I told you. Effing heart of stone.”
I shiver.
“Hey,” Colton’s deep voice interrupts her. “Tone it down, will ya.”
“I’m not talking to you,” she snaps back loud enough for the din of the pub to go down several notches as people take notice.
I feel Colt rear back, but he stays quiet. I’ve never seen him get into an argument. He won’t start one here, at Lazy’s. He just growls softly while rubbing my shoulder, tugging me closer into him. “You’re talking to your sister, and that’s no way to talk to her,” he answers softly. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s the only one you got. Whole lotta sweet you’re missin’ out on, too. Whatever’s going on between you two—”
“I said, I’m not talking to you,” she yells, her eyes still locked on mine.
Our booth is darkened by Justin leaning over. “Ma’am,” he says under his breath, then turns his gaze to David. “Outta here. Now.”
David hesitates for a beat. Then he tugs on Maya.
Justin moves just enough to let them come through, his gaze following them until they exit Lazy’s, then looks at us, frowning. With a sigh, he sits in front of us, occupying the whole booth with his arms spread across on both sides.
Then he clicks his tongue and picks at a slip of paper on the table. “Looks like they stuck you with their tab.” He smiles real big and looks at Colton. “In-laws, man. Get used to it.”
I snap the tab from him and push on Colton to let me go through. “What d’you think you’re doing, sweetness?” he says, not budging an inch.
“Teaching her a lesson,” I answer in gritted teeth.
“She’s not worth it.”
“I was kidding, Kiara,” Justin says. “Tab’s on me. What are you guys having?”
“You wanna stay here?” Colton asks with so much softness I wonder if I look sick or something. I don’t feel sick. “Or you wanna go home. You wanna call Eloise?” Why is he…?
Then the realization of why he’s being so careful around me hits me, and so does the piece of news. My chin wobbles, my eyes sting.
The definiteness of it all. There’s no fixing things now. No mending bridges. No breaking walls. No one to forgive.
My father’s dead, and my hatred for him doesn’t even protect me from the immense pain I feel. Feeling my face contort in an awful grimace, I bury it in Colton’s chest.
“Let it out,” he murmurs softly, rubbing my back as silent sobs shake me. “Let it out,” he repeats. I keep my sobs quiet, and from the shield of his hug, overhear him saying, “Her dad just passed away,” and some muffled explanations. Then, “There… there. That’s it… better?” he whispers as my breathing evens and my soul calms down.
“You have a tissue?” he asks, and a feminine voice answers, “here.”
I lift my face from Colton’s protective shield and grab the tissue Willow is handing me, blow my nose, grab the second tissue she’s holding out, dab my eyes, and put my brave little face on while I tuck the rolled tissues in my pocket. “Okay,” I breathe. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“Sorry?!” Colton, Willow, and Justin say.
“Pff, honey,” Willow says, taking my hand, “you just lost—”
I raise a hand between us. “I don’t want to talk about it. Guys, sorry, really. I need-I need...” I don’t know what I need right now. I know for sure I don’t want my friends’ pity. I feel a million feelings—guilt, and anger, and the feeling that life is way too short.
Coming out of nowhere, Shane, Justin’s chef, sets a charcuterie board in the middle of the table. “Here,” he says. “Eat.”
“I’m really not hungry right now, but thanks. You guys go ahead.”
Shane puts his hands on his hips, tilts his head like a puppy, and says, “The cuts are from the Henderson farm, the cheddar and butter from the King’s farm, and the baguette is obviously from Chris’s bakery, but it’s also this afternoon’s bake, still warm from the oven. It’s guaranteed to feed your soul. You know it will.”
While he was talking, Colton buttered the bread and topped it with prosciutto. The way he hands it to me now, mimicking the puppy look, I can’t say no. Lifting my gaze, I take in Willow on the other side of the booth. She ducks under the table to sit next to me, silently pressing her head against my shoulder in support as I chew the food, fighting the feeling of cardboard in my mouth. I swallow with difficulty.
Grace slides in front of me, followed by Ethan. “Get her something to drink, please, honey,” she asks Haley who’s standing at the top of the table, looking helpless. “Wine.” Then, to me, she says, “We’re so sorry. We came as soon as we heard.”
Alex appears, her hair dotted with white flakes.
“Is it snowing?” I ask her. I need to talk, to make things normal again, but my voice comes out funny.
She sits quietly next to Ethan and throws her coat over the partition, then reaches across the table to take my hand. “It’s snowing, and it’s beautiful out. Just like you like it.”
Dad hated the snow and the cold, yet one of my best memories with him was a snowball fight in the backyard of our split ranch when I was a kid. Colton takes my coat off, then his, and passes them to Ethan to throw overboard to the next booth. Everyone’s else’s coat follows, and while we slide closer to each other to make space for more people joining us (all of Grace’s team at the salon, Sophie, Ms. Angela, Cassandra, Lynn and Craig, Dennis and Shannon), Chris and Noah drag another table next to ours.
We pass down glasses, plates, and cutlery while bottles of wine appear on the table, followed by more food.
“Let’s share a soup,” Colton says, plopping two spoons in a small bowl between us.
“Is that the potato-cheddar-ale soup?” Willow asks.
“It sure tastes like it,” Colton answers. “Here,” he says, sliding a bowl her way.
“Hand me the little thingys there, will ya,” Ethan says.
“They’re bacon-wrapped figs stuffed with chèvre,” Haley informs her brother.
“That works, although I was talking about that,” he says, pointing further.
Chris reaches over Alex to place a whole serving platter of meatballs in front of him. I watch as he doesn’t realize this is the shareable portion and digs directly in it.
Grace looks at me with amusement, her eyebrow going up, then lifts one shoulder. We share a brief moment when that instant is infinitely more important than my overarching grief. Then Colton thanks Ethan for overseeing all the ice-skating activities during the day and the kid competition, and that instant then becomes the most important. Conversations grow and laughter ripples through the table, then someone seems to remember why we’re here and silence falls again, gazes turning to me.
I don’t want this, for them or for me. I take my glass and lift it toward the end of the table. “Special toast to Autumn, who did a magnificent job with the decor this year. You really turned this place into a Christmas wonderland. Thank you.”
She places her hand on her heart to thank me in return, her smile tentative.
I feel the need to say something to all of them. To acknowledge why they came and thank them for it—yet that’s not how I feel exactly, or what I want to say. “You guys are my life, and you make life here magical.” I blink the tears away. “Life is made of a succession of tiny little moments. How and with who you spend these tiny moments is what matters.” I shut up for a second, trying to gather my thoughts, to say something thoughtful that encapsulates what I’m feeling. “Shit, guys, I don’t know how to say this. I’m feeling really big things right now that should come out as, like, this grand speech, but that’s all I got. I love you.” My chin wobbles as I say the last words, and as a chorus of “we love you too” sounds through the bar, Colton rocks me in his arms, kissing the top of my head.
As the evening progresses, more friends join, more food appears, more wine is poured. Even Annabel Plum, who was here to enjoy Laskin, finds her way to our table.
Before long, someone takes out the karaoke machine, and questionable songs are sung by tone deaf people.
It turns into one of the best evenings of my life.