Chapter 31 Jack
W ATCHING THE COURIER DRIVE AWAY with a truck full of orders going to customers is like they’ve individually been lifted off my chest.
I don’t think Clara will ever understand the pressure she relieved helping me yesterday or the hope she’s given me with the advice she gave me to make things quicker.
She’s right, I should talk to the others about not having to do everything myself. Whether I will or not is a different argument. I’m so used to everyone here depending on me that it feels alien to depend on them.
Tommy is watching me eat my lunch, his eyes following my every move. “What’s your problem?” I ask, reaching into my bag of chips. He complained he hadn’t seen me recently—a lie—but I felt bad and said I’d visit when I took my lunch break.
Clara took my truck to go shopping for a dress for a work gala she has coming up.
“I don’t have a problem,” Tommy says, leaning against the bar. “Did you have sex?”
“Jesus, Tommy,” I say, spluttering on my lunch. “What’s up with you?”
He draws a circle in the air around me with his finger. “You don’t look like you’ve got a stick up your ass anymore. You smiled when you looked at your phone. So I put two and two together.”
I smiled at my phone because Clara sent me a picture of how badly she parked my truck. “And got five.”
“And I was told by Luke, who was told by Dove, who was told by Aunt Maggie, that Maggie caught you banging Clara.” He looks so smug.
Maggie didn’t catch me “banging” Clara. She came in to clean while we were fooling around on the couch, fully clothed.
“Which is weird because I thought there was no way my best friend would do something like that without telling me about it.”
“Thanks for the recap,” I mutter.
He looks at me expectantly, like I’m going to tell him my damn business. “So? Have you had sex?”
“You need to concentrate on your own sex life.”
“I don’t have one, that’s why I’m interfering in yours,” he says matter-of-factly. “Thought you hated her.”
“I never hated her,” I say, an uncomfortable guilt rushing through me. “I hate the company she works for and the people she works with, and probably her dad too.”
He wags his finger at me. “Nah, I’m pretty sure you hated her.”
He’s just trying to get under my skin. Unfortunately, it’s working. The idea of not trusting Clara feels weird now. The idea of hating her is even weirder.
“I was mad at her, and who she represented, but she’s a good person. They treat her like shit too. We have a lot more in common than I realized.”
It’s the truth. Plus, after finding out that they stole her idea when she was just a little girl, it’s kind of hard to hold a grudge. She’s done what she said she was going to do when she got here; she’s convinced me that she does actually care.
“So are you going to keep seeing her when she goes home?” he asks, and my stomach twists.
“No. It’s a for-now thing, not a forever thing. We agreed it would be one time. Her one-time stay in Fraser Falls.”
My phone lights up on the bar; three messages from Clara all come through at the same time. As soon as I see the first picture I pick it up rapidly before Tommy can see the screen. The text says “Off or on?” with two pictures.
One with Clara wearing a gorgeous floor-length emerald-green dress, her hair clipped up with two curled tendrils framing her face. The other with Clara no longer wearing the dress.
“Why are you turning red?” Tommy asks, leaning over to look at my phone screen.
I clutch it to my chest and lock the screen. “You’re nosy today. Tell me what’s going on with you instead of annoying me.”
I quickly text back Clara telling her I can’t decide and she’ll need to show me both later, then put my phone down to concentrate on Tommy. Apparently in his tired, “overworked” state he thought it was a good idea to ask out Melissa Wilde. He found it wasn’t a good idea, because she said no.
He has a new plan to try to get his outdoor terrace expansion approved.
It won’t be, but who am I to stand between a man and his vision?
He also tells me he’s thinking of getting a dog for company, something I can actually get on board with.
Even though the tavern is always busy, especially this time of year, he says it makes him feel the quiet more when he is alone.
I get it. Elf is asleep on the floor next to my stool and I know that having him around is going to make the quiet when Clara leaves town more tolerable. I hate thinking about Clara leaving town—a statement I’d have laughed in your face about a month ago if you’d told me it was something I’d say.
Tommy pressures me into heading outside with him to look at the never-going-to-be-approved patio extension space and we talk about that instead of my sex life. It’s cold as shit out here and Elf immediately tries to climb me like he’s a Chihuahua, not a fifty-pound seal pretending to be a dog.
I reluctantly pick him up and sit him on my hip like I did with Sailor when she was younger. He licks the side of my face, which I take as gratitude.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, Clara’s name on the screen. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she says breathlessly. “I need your help.”
I pass Elf over to Tommy, who looks confused about why he’s now carrying a dog, and move away from the sound of Tommy struggling under the weight. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes and no. I was being super careful driving like you told me to. Super careful, I promise. But…”
“What the fuck, Clara. Are you hurt? Where are you?” I ask frantically.
“Chill, I’m not hurt and neither is your truck.”
“I don’t care about the truck. Why do you sound so stressed?”
She takes a deep sigh. “I reversed into a snowman.”
A confused laugh spills out of me. “Okay…”
“Some kid is going to finish school and come home and find their snowman obliterated because I’m a shitty driver. It isn’t funny.”
I press my lips together. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she says.
“Not even a little bit, Clara. You tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
“We need to rebuild it,” she says like it’s the most obvious statement in the world.
“We do?” I ask skeptically. I clear my throat. “Sure we do. Where are you?”
“If you walk to my door at the back of Maggie’s, then keep going, I don’t know, maybe twenty houses, I’m there. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing so I pulled over to answer, thinking it was an emergency, but I pulled too close to a post to drive off so I had to back up and that’s when it happened.”
“Was it an emergency?”
She sighs. “No, it was my dad wanting to talk about work. I’ll spare you the details, but it wasn’t worth killing a snowman for.”
I’m trying not to laugh because she sounds genuinely devastated. “Heading over now. Don’t run anyone else down.”
T HE WAY C LARA IS ACTING you’d think she’s been involved in a hit-and-run.
When I find her at the scene of the crime, she’s pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips. “Stop smiling at me,” she says as I approach her.
“I can’t help it. You look like the police are going to roll up at any minute and arrest you.”
She glares at me in a way that makes my arm hairs stand up. “Does Fraser Falls even have police?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Yes, we do.” I look at the crushed snowman at my feet. “You really did a number on him.”
“I’m going to do a number on you if you don’t stop looking so damn amused by my misfortune.”
I want to tell her that it was going to melt anyway, but if she wants to build a snowman I’m not going to stop her. The snow has been heavy and frequent over the past couple of days. We’re due to get a lot more over the weekend and it feels like it’s getting earlier every year.
The original creator’s first mistake was building it on the grass verge in front of the house instead of their front yard. This kid clearly doesn’t know there are people like Clara on the road. There’s a snapped carrot sitting in the middle of the carnage. “Have you made a snowman before?”
She looks at me like I have three heads. “Of course I have. I grew up in Manhattan, not Miami. I used to have a competition with my brother to see who could build the better one.”
“Of course you did. Do you have any stories from your childhood where you weren’t competing with your brother?”
Clara thinks about it, her lips pouting out, eyes looking to the sky. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Sounds super healthy,” I muse. I crouch down to evaluate the mess we’re dealing with. I pick out the carrot and what I think are stones but quickly realize are frozen Oreos and put them to the side. I free the tartan scarf and add it to the pile. “Do you know how big it was?”
“It was two tiers with a face and scarf. I think it had some branch hair, I can’t remember. It all happened so fast.”
When I stand and hold out my arms she clings to me tightly.
I kiss the crown of her head, consider telling her this really is just a waste of energy and snowmen get ruined, by either the weather or other kids.
But if she wants to spend her time in town building snowmen with me, then I’m not going to argue.
I text Nancy and let her know I’ll be late back to the store.
Then I send one to Tommy telling him I’ll pick up Elf when I’m done.
Clara is pulling on her gloves, a look of determination etched into her face.
One that disappears when she kneels on the ground and immediately realizes her mistake now that she has wet knees.
“Do you want to watch and I’ll quickly build it? ”
My question is met with a handful of snow to the face. “I’m helping.”
I start by getting rid of the original snowman. Mostly because the snow is too compacted to be rebuilt, but also to hide the evidence of Clara’s crime. She gasps as blocks of ice hit the road when I start throwing them out of our way. “We can’t work with this, baby.”
I leave her crouched in the spot and start at the other end of the grass beside the road.
The snow is wet and rolls easily as I push and pack it all the way back to Clara.
I’m glad she decided to massacre Olaf on a road that isn’t busy so I don’t have to explain what the fuck I’m doing in the middle of a workday.
“Is it weird that I found that sexy?” she asks, smoothing her hands over the sides to round the ball.
“Yes.” I get another mouthful of snow. Her hand covers her face as she tries to hold in a laugh. “Next time I’m not going to let you get away with it, so make decisions ca—”
This time a small snowball hits the center of my chest and explodes into powder. Clara holds her hands up defensively. “Truce?” I ignore her, packing snow in my hands until I have a snowball ready to go. She backs up, her hands still in front of her. “Play nicely, Jack.”
“Oh, so now it’s play nicely?” She gives me the most mischievous and dazzling smile, then she bolts away.
She’s quick for someone who hurt their ankle at the start of the week, but I’m quicker. One arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back into my chest. “Truce, truce, truce,” she squeals as I press the snowball into her hair.
Clara turns around and pouts, her bottom lip protruding all the way out as the clumps of snow cling to the auburn strands framing her face.
I brush it away and kiss her. She doesn’t respond at first, but when I cup her face with both of my hands she wraps her arms around my neck.
“Okay, truce,” I say, right as her hand pulls at the neck of my sweater and I feel slush sliding down my spine.
She leans back, her eyes wide, lips pulled into a line. “Oops.”
Clara runs away as I move the bottom of my sweater to get what’s now water out.
I’m glad there are no cars in the drives to witness me chasing after her, again .
I’m within reaching distance of her when I notice her start to wobble.
It’s like slow motion, the way her left foot slides and her knees buckle.
“Shit,” I say, reaching out to catch her.
My foot finds the same iced-over patch of ground hers did, and suddenly I’m falling with her.
We both hit the pavement with a thud. “I’m too old for this,” I groan, pushing myself into a sitting position.
Clara stays where she is and moves her right arm and leg up and down. “Are you trying to make a snow angel?”
“Half of one. You kinda ruined my chance of doing a full one by lying down next to me.” My mouth opens to argue back but I catch the look on her face and realize it’s what she wants.
“Get your ass up. We have a snowman to finish.” I push myself off the ground and hold out a hand for her too. We’re both wet and freezing, but there’s no one I’d rather be those things with.
“Yes, boss.”
I brush the dusting of snow from Clara’s jacket. “Hey, do you have plans tonight?”
She pulls me closer with my pockets; tiny droplets of water are clinging to the strands of her hair. “I don’t.”
“I want to take you on a date.”
“A date. That sounds very romantic and formal,” she says.
I scratch at my jaw. “I can make it unromantic and informal if you’d like. Tacos and sex on the backseat.”
I’m slowly realizing that these kinds of days are numbered and that I need to seize all the opportunities I have with her while I have her.
Clara’s arms wrap around my waist. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold, and she’s never looked more beautiful to me. “Wow, you just described my dream date. I’ll be there.”