Chapter 14 Clara #2
“?‘Then it went viral’ is such a funny end to an amazing journey,” I say, trying not to sound like too much of a kiss-ass to a man who wants my lips nowhere near him. “Do you think you’ll release more?”
He shrugs. “It’s already a lot. Especially after Flo’s videos put the spotlight on us.
Sometimes it feels like it’s shining in my eyes.
But she’s got these big dreams about town fame and success and an espresso machine that works consistently.
So who knows, I might need to keep going to keep up.
Especially with such ruthless competition. ”
“I’m sorry.” I mean it when I say it but I don’t think that matters.
“Don’t apologize. I blame myself as much as I blame Davenport,” he admits. It’s an unexpected show of vulnerability from Jack, and it catches me totally off guard.
“What?” I squeak, my voice high and grating against the quiet. “Why do you blame yourself?”
“I should’ve done more to protect us. Trademarked, copyrighted, patented. I don’t fucking know which is the right one or if it’s even possible but I would if I’d even looked into it. I just got so busy and ended up letting everyone down.”
“It’s a community effort, Jack. Anyone could’ve looked into those things. That’s not on you.” I want to stop and shake him. This isn’t his fault. This is Daryl and countless people at Davenport who pushed the Evie doll through.
“I’m the one who got everyone’s hopes up when Davenport approached us.
The guy said they’d help us with legal stuff, ‘lighten the load’ were the words he used, and I foolishly believed him.
Showed him every step of our process. Showed him all my prototypes.
Sent him home with a free doll.” He laughs but it’s humorless. “Must’ve thought he’d hit the jackpot.”
I want to argue for the program I created, that it isn’t what we stand for, but I’m trying to pick my battles and I don’t think me fighting to defend my own project is what Jack needs to hear right now.
I grab his arm impulsively, pulling him to a stop.
“Listen to me. It isn’t on you. You’ve done an amazing thing.
You’re going to do more amazing things. If you don’t believe anything else I ever say, please believe that, because I really mean it. ”
His lips part and I watch in real time as his face flits between different emotions.
It’s like a roulette wheel of which one he’s going to stop on; I hold my breath in anticipation.
I want him to know that I see him and the responsibility he carries on his shoulders.
In the end, his mouth closes and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.
He nods slowly. “Thank you for saying that.”
We walk in silence for a few more paces, and I let the quiet stretch, giving him space. Something snaps in the trees behind us. Loud and abrupt. Sharp. I freeze, my pulse hammering, and without thinking, grab Jack’s hand.
He glances at me, calm and faintly amused, and squeezes, rubbing his thumb across the back of my knuckles. “Hey, you’re okay. It isn’t a bear. Probably a squirrel.”
I hold him a little tighter, clinging to the feeling of safety it gives me more than the man. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. “Do squirrels sound like murderers?”
His thumb draws spirals on my skin, calm and reassuring. “Only the very ambitious ones.”
“Sorry.” I realize I’m still holding his hand, warm and steady in mine. I let go, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m disappointed. I thought this was my big chance to see one of Fraser Falls’ famous denim-overalls-wearing bears.”
Another laugh achieved. It’s embarrassing how much breaking through Jack’s frosty exterior feels like winning.
We don’t talk for a while until eventually, Jack veers off the trail and points to a clearing.
“This is where we usually stash it, but I’m guessing now that apparently the entire town knows where the nutcracker takes his vacation, they’ve had to start hiding him slightly farther off the trail. Stay where you are, I’ll go look.”
“Wait,” I say, squinting at something between two trees. “Is that—”
It is. Tipped slightly sideways, wedged between two tree trunks, half-buried in leaves, stands a life-sized, slightly chipped wooden nutcracker. His mouth is less of a smile and more like a grimace. His eyes are wide with mild alarm. He is old and faded and looks homemade. He’s perfect.
“I did it,” I whisper.
Jack scoffs and brushes past me, reaching for the nutcracker’s arm to pull him free. “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you slowed me down because I was so afraid you’d fall and twist your ankle.”
I’m too excited to care about his grumbling. “I actually found it!” Without thinking I launch myself forward and throw my arms around Jack’s neck. He catches me easily, holding me above the ground until my nose brushes the side of his neck accidentally and the realization sets in for both of us.
He lowers me slowly, his hands tight against my hips, where the coat doesn’t disguise his firm grip. We stand there for a second, in the cold silence of the forest breathing with our bodies pressed against each other and my hands gripping the back of his neck.
Jack’s eyes travel down to my lips but he doesn’t make the move. I’m scared to, knowing that it could ruin the friendly footing we finally feel like we’re reaching together.
His hips inch backward, I see a flicker of embarrassment, and that’s when I realize what’s happening. I’m suddenly very aware of my limbs and take a step back. “Oh God. Sorry. Sorry.”
He drags his hand down his face. “You’re going to keep surprising me, aren’t you?”
Maybe I should go and hide myself between those two trees and hope Flo hears of me embarrassing myself, takes pity, and deletes the videos to make me leave. As flushed as my cheeks are, there’s still something powerful about having an effect on him. “Trust me, I’m surprising both of us.”
I let Jack have some alone time while he retrieves our wooden third wheel.
Jack shakes his head. “I can’t believe they still do this.”
“Tradition,” I say. “You said it yourself. Maybe someday the kids who stole him this year will reminisce about it fondly with their newest friend while attempting to locate it in the middle of the night.”
He gives me a long, unreadable look, then smiles. “Who says we’re friends?”
T HE TREK BACK TO J ACK’S truck is even slower than our initial walk into the woods.
Finding the nutcracker, I quickly realize, was the simple part of tonight’s activities. Dragging him back to the car is proving more challenging, since he insists on getting caught on every stray branch and tree root.
We haul him back between us like a third, deeply uncooperative band member. Even Jack, who is definitely fitter than me, is slightly out of breath as we reach the parking lot.
“Hey, Jack?” I say softly as we load the nutcracker into the bed of his truck.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking me to find this.”
He nods. “Thanks for not breaking any bones.”
We ride back to town in silence, the nutcracker bumping off the sides of the truck rhythmically. Jack drives at a crawl along Main Street, so our festive companion stays in his assigned seat and doesn’t accidentally get launched through the Wilde & Winslet window.
I rest my head on the passenger window and watch the town go by.
Fraser Falls isn’t shiny or sleek. It doesn’t try to impress with scale or spectacle.
But it’s special, layered. Its roots run deep, and for not the first time since I arrived here, I find myself wondering why anyone would want to leave this place.
Beside me Jack drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. He hasn’t said anything in a while, but his gaze flicks toward me as he makes the left onto the street that leads to the back of Maggie’s.
“I meant what I said,” I murmur as he pulls up. I climb out of the truck and hover at the passenger-side door. “You’re going to do more amazing things. Don’t let this one thing deter you from creating more.”
Jack smiles, my final win of the evening. “Good night, Clara.”