Chapter 5 Silas
FIVE
SILAS
Mornings were the worst. It was in the morning, when the house was quiet and dark, that I missed Nicole the most. We used to spend this time just her and I, shutting out the world.
She’d get up and exercise before my alarm would go off.
Then, when she’d come back into the room, she’d kiss me good morning before taking a shower.
Sometimes, I’d join her. Sometimes, I’d lounge in bed, enjoying the sight of my wife coming out of the bathroom, wet and wrapped in a towel. We’d make love or just talk as we got ready. Then we’d eat breakfast and head off to work.
I sighed as I stared up at the dark ceiling above me. My arms were flopped down by my sides. Most days, I managed to get myself up and out of bed before the wallowing could start. But for some reason, Nicole’s memory was more poignant than it had been in months.
Maybe it had to do with Clara, Linda’s new renter. Her zeal for Christmas reminded me of Nicole. She would look forward to December with a wonder and awe that I was a tad jealous of. The only thing in my life that came close to making me feel that way was...Nicole.
Three years later, the hole in my heart felt as big as on the night she passed away.
I pressed my fingertips into my eyes as I forced myself back to the present. I had a little girl who needed her father. I couldn’t start spiraling now.
Needing a distraction, I pulled off my covers and padded over to the bathroom. I took a hot shower and quickly shaved. Once I was clean, I dressed in a black suit, styled my hair, and then headed out into the hallway.
Isabelle was already up and playing with her dolls on the floor of her room.
She was still in her nightgown, and her hair was ratted on one side.
The braid I’d put in last night, although lopsided, had managed to contain most of it while she slept.
I wasn’t a hair stylist by any means, but if it meant keeping the tears and the wailing down to a minimum the next day, I would attempt anything.
“Good morning, peanut,” I said as I moved to join her on the floor.
Isabelle glanced up at me for only a moment before she returned her gaze to her dolls. They were facing each other, and it seemed as if they were deep in conversation about something serious from the way Isabelle kept her voice hushed and her eyebrows drawn together.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I dipped down to catch her attention.
“Shh, Jenny and Brooke are fighting,” she whispered, not bothering to look up at me as she shifted one of the dolls side to side like it was talking.
Her voice was so soft, I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. So after a few minutes of observing, I decided to push her again. “What are they fighting about?”
Isabelle paused, her focus on the ground before she set both dolls to the side, drew her legs up to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees. “Catalina didn’t invite me to her party,” she said before she closed her eyes and jutted out her lip.
A protective surge rose up inside of me. “What? Why?”
Isabelle didn’t speak right away. Instead, she just sat there in a clammed up little ball. I knew she was processing, and it was taking all of my strength not to pull her into my lap and hold her.
“Belly,” I said as I tucked her hair behind her ear. “The princess can tell the dragon anything she wants.”
A few weeks ago while reading Isabelle a story, she declared that I was not the prince but the dragon who guarded the princess. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I loved the imagery it gave.
She sniffled as she lifted her head to look at me. “She just said that I couldn’t come. It’s at her grandma’s house in some city.” Her blinking grew more rapid, like she was trying to keep her tears from falling.
“Well, I bet it’s going to be a boring party where they clean toilets and eat broccoli.” She wrinkled her nose, and I matched it. “You don’t really want to go do that, do you?”
She shook her head. “Blech.”
I nodded. “Blech is right.” I reached out and pulled her onto my lap, where I gave her a big squeeze.
I was going to comfort my daughter now, but I had every intention of confronting Catalina’s mother to ask why she was leaving my daughter out of this party.
If she thought she was going to exclude my Isabelle, she had another thing coming.
“Do you know what you want to wear today?” I asked after I planted a big kiss on the top of her head, which she promptly tried to wipe off. “Hey!”
She ignored me as she climbed off my lap and stood. Her expression had changed from sadness to pure bliss. She had a plan and couldn’t wait to show me.
“Wait here,” she said, holding out her hands.
I pointed to the ground. “Right here?” I asked.
She giggled and nodded before turning to hurry to her closet. She shut the door behind her, and I waited. And waited.
Five minutes went by, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d lost her. I was about to call out to make sure everything was okay, when the door swung open and she came strutting out.
I tried to fight the smile that emerged.
She was wearing a pair of neon blue, sparkly tights, an orange tutu with glitter polka dots, and a blue polka dot top with a giant rainbow scarf wrapped around her neck.
And to top it off, she had a pair of Minnie Mouse ears that she got last year at Disneyland.
She twirled a few times, and I whooped and cheered. “You look beautiful,” I said as I moved to stand. “Let’s go wrangle your hair and eat some breakfast.”
After her hair was braided into pigtails and her teeth were brushed, she led the way and I followed behind, shutting off the lights as I went.
When we got to the kitchen, I declared it felt like a pancake kind of morning, so I got started pulling out the ingredients and setting them on the counter.
I was adjusting the knob of the griddle when I heard Isabelle gasp.
Panicked, I searched the room only to find her by the sink, standing on her step stool. She’d risen up on to her tiptoes and was straining to see through the window.
In two steps, I was at her side. “What? What happened? Did you burn yourself?” I ran my gaze over her body in search of any indication that she was injured.
She glanced over at me, her bright green eyes as wide as saucers. “Look,” she whispered as she shifted her gaze to the window and pointed.
I followed her gaze and my entire body froze.
My conversation with Clara last night apparently had not landed.
Instead of heeding my warning, she was tromping through her snow-covered lawn with a giant reindeer in tow.
But not only was she sticking reindeer in her front lawn, there was a Santa, a sleigh, and the largest, gaudiest nativity scene at the center of it all.
I blinked a few times out of hope that this was just a figment of my imagination. But every time my sight cleared, the Christmas decorations Clara was so defiantly staking into the ground were there to greet me.
Damn my 20/20 vision.
I sighed, frustration boiling up inside of me. If she wanted to make a good impression on the town she’d just moved into, this was not the way to do it.
“What is all of that?” Isabelle asked, her voice holding a sort of reverence that reminded me of Nicole.
“It’s nothing.” I wrapped my arm around Isabelle’s middle and hauled her down. “Just our new neighbor being naughty,” I muttered under my breath and then squeezed my eyes shut. Less than twenty-four hours since this Christmas-crazed woman had entered my life, and I was already using Christmas puns.
“It’s so pretty,” Isabelle said as she scrambled to climb up her step stool again.
“Aren’t you going to help me make pancakes?” I asked, hoping to distract her.
“But—”
“I can’t do it on my own.” I gave her my biggest pout.
Isabelle studied me. I could see the desire to go back to the window fight against her desire to help me. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
Luckily, I kept her sufficiently engaged in conversation about Bluey, her new favorite TV obsession, while we mixed, poured, and flipped the pancakes. And she seemed to forget the decorations.
I kept her away from the windows as I led her over to the foyer to get her shoes on. I stuffed her lunchbox into her backpack while she slipped on her coat. Once she was situated, we headed out into the garage and climbed into my truck.
I’d hoped that she would have forgotten enough to keep her attention on me and not Clara’s house, but that was a pipe dream. Her face was basically plastered to the car window as we pulled out of the driveway.
I glared at Clara, who was in the process of climbing into her car and had paused to look over her shoulder. Her gaze met mine, and a defiant little twitch to her chin told me she knew exactly what she was doing. Heat pricked my skin as I pulled out onto the street and took a left.
On my way to the primary school, I called Todd. He answered in one ring.
“Hey, boss,” he said, his voice breathy like he’d run to the phone.
“I’m dropping off Isabelle at school, and then I’ll need you to go to my house. There’s a citation to be written.”
Todd paused. “You want me to write you a citation?”
I sighed. “You’ll see when you get there.”
Thankfully, there was a parking spot available right in front of the school, so I took advantage of it. Isabelle climbed out of her seat as I slammed my door. I rounded the truck and waited for her to grab my hand, and then we hurried across to the sidewalk.
Isabelle promptly dropped my hand as soon as we were inside the front doors. I followed behind her as she hurried down the hall to her classroom. Just as she neared the doors, she stopped and turned.
“Thanks, Daddy. You can go now,” she said as she reached up to tug her backpack from my shoulder.
“Don’t you want me to walk you inside?” I asked as I turned so she could get a good hold of her backpack, which I then let slide off my shoulder.
“No. I can do it myself.” She walked over to her locker and opened the door. Once her coat was off and her backpack hung, she slammed the door. “No one else’s parents walk them to the classroom. Only you.”
The way she said you had me raising my eyebrows. If she picked up on my reaction, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she threw her arms around my waist and squeezed. Just as I moved in to return the hug, she let go and headed to her classroom door.
“Bye, daddy,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.
Now alone, I stared at the space she’d occupied just moments ago.
Part of me wanted to walk in and demand that she let me drop her off.
The other part of me—the part that won out—was happy she was becoming such a strong, independent girl.
After Nicole died, I was worried that Isabelle would remember what happened.
I worried that flashbacks would suddenly surface and she’d have to face the worst night of our little family’s life all over again.
There was so much I wished I could change about that night—but I couldn’t. I worried that I coddled her too much. That she would suffocate under my wing. But then I’d see her like this. Strong and independent. And it would only solidify that what I was doing was right.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my little girl.
I sighed and turned, my fingers brushing her locker as I walked by. Just as I neared the office, I stopped. Normally, I would just wave to Pamela, the receptionist, as I walked past. But the sight of Clara had my entire body going numb.
That’s right. She was here in Grinchland as a substitute teacher. How could I have forgotten?
There was no way I could just walk past and not say something. Especially to Maria. Clara may not care about the laws in Grinchland, but the principal was required to uphold them.
I could feel Clara’s glare on me as I pulled open the office door and walked inside.
“Morning, Mayor,” Pamela said her normal greeting to me.
“Morning, Pamela.”
Clara scoffed. “Of course you’re the mayor,” she muttered.
I chose to be the bigger person and ignore her. “Maria available?” I asked as I made my way to her shut office door. I didn’t wait for Pamela’s response. As I entered, Maria looked startled before she quickly told whomever she was on the phone with that she’d have to call them back.
I closed her door behind me and then dropped onto the armchair across from her desk. I paused and steepled my fingers before I said, “Let’s make sure we understand the rules, one more time.”