Chapter Four
Niko
Holding someone’s hand has never felt important before.
Watching my fingers weave within Nova’s, our hands hanging between us, it feels important. We walk past the other shops on Main Street, past the diner, and past the park. I smile when she raises a brow at me but says nothing. As if wondering what I am up to but waiting to see for herself.
“This is it,” I announce as we step off the main road, past city hall, towards the woods that surround most of True Ridge.
It is a wide clearing surrounded by tall, bushy sugar pine trees. Those tall trees create a pine scented canopy for the clearing, where the sun just touches enough to warm the air. Wildflowers fill the half-moon shaped clearing before the thick foliage of the forest begins. It is a beautiful place, one I come to often when I need to think or appreciate the earth.
Nova glances at me, a slow smile overtaking her face. Jesus, she is so beautiful. My heart thunders in my chest as I stare down at her, that smile lighting up her blue eyes. I reach out, unable to stop myself, brushing my thumb over her rosy cheek. It is cold out, the skies warning of a coming storm, but she still glows in the soft sunshine.
“This is it, huh? Do you do this often, Peter Pan?”
Nodding at the huge stump covered I covered with a linen cloth and set up a picnic on, she is beaming at me. I shake my head. No, I have never set up something this ambitious before. Not sure I have ever wanted to impress a woman this way before.
“No, I have never done this,” I admit with a shrug, flushing just a little. Leading her to the low stump where I’ve set up a little lunch, complete with two log stools, I help her sit. As I take my seat across from her, I cannot ignore her big smile. “If you keep smiling so pretty, I will gladly do this sort of thing all the time. Like I said, we can even do brunch on Sunday.”
Nova flushes, bowing her head just a little. Gosh, she’s adorable. A little thrown by how buzzed I feel with her, I open the basket I readied earlier. Inside there are some bacon sandwiches, my sister’s homemade potato chips, the best thing in town, and some bottles of iced tea I made myself.
“This is quite a spread, Peter Pan,” she teases me, grabbing one of the chips to pop it in her mouth. I almost crush my BLT in my hand when she lets out a soft, appreciative moan as she tastes the chip. “Oh my. This is.”
“My sister makes the best chips. I have told her to market them at the shops in town, they’re so good. Her flavors are amazing.”
“They are. I wish I could make something this good,” she hums as she crunches on another big, flaky, delicious chip.
“You made that beautiful bouquet. My sister loved it. Do you cook?”
Wiping her mouth shyly, she shakes her head. “No. I uh...I never learned how to. It was something I figured I would learn some day. Not today but someday. My mom was a great cook. The best. She died before that day could come. I can boil water for ramen, sometimes I even put a fancy egg in it. Otherwise, my brother...well, he did do all the cooking for us.”
“Tell me about your brother. We can trade secrets about siblings.”
That smile on her face fades entirely. Those eyes flash up at me as I take a bite of my sandwich. It tastes like sawdust in my mouth when I see the pain on her beautiful face. I choke the bite down, chasing it with some tea.
“What did I say, honey?”
Shaking her head, she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s shining a pretty lavender in the light, the soft, silky tresses framing her face. I reach out too, grasping the same curl she shoved aside, tugging at it gently. Her gaze flashes to meet mine as she bites at her full bottom lip.
“I don’t...I don’t talk about Orion. Just like I don’t celebrate the holidays. No reason to anymore.”
There is sadness in her eyes as they hold mine that breaks my heart. An overwhelming urge to protect her, to shield her from any hurt that could ever come her way overcomes me. I even move closer to her, huddling close to her side as I grasp her hand, weaving our fingers together.
“Holidays have plenty of reasons to celebrate. New seasons, no relationships, new families coming together. I celebrate every single thing I can. Birthdays, weddings, Hanukkah, you name it, I want to celebrate it.”
“We’re very different, Niko. I celebrate Tuesday nights, a fresh bloom on a stubborn stem, a sunset on a warm, fall night. Not empty holidays.”
Stunned by her poetic yet cryptic words, I sigh. I hate that she has hurt tied to the holidays somehow. I wish I could wash that hurt away. Wrap up the remedy in a pretty box with a bow. If life were that easy, we could gift wrap apologies and tie a bow on bad habits.
“Well, we can celebrate whatever you want to celebrate, Nova.”
Tilting her head at me, she smiles, nodding at the picnic. “How about we celebrate a nice lunch on a lovely day?”
“We can do that, honey. Let’s do that,” I agree, brushing her hair back from her face, shifting back to give her some space. I hate the loss of her softness at my side, the sweetness of her petal sweet scent.
“I won’t talk about my brother. You do not have to talk about your sister or those cute lost boys. How about we talk about.... why is a sandwich better with chips? Nothing else, not potato salad, soup, nothing else is the same.”
Grinning, I munch on a chip as I think about it. “This is a good topic. I agree. Grilled cheese and tomato soup being the exception. Chips just go best with sandwiches, no matter what sort of sandwich it is. BLT. Original, crispy, light chips. PB&J, you want something simple, solid. We’re on the same page. What is your very favorite chip?”
Smiling at me and the silliness of this conversation, she pauses to think for a moment. “It might not fit the perimeters, but a good, crunchy Cheeto. Not the puffs. They have their place, PB&J, for example. A crispy, cheesy, crunchy Cheeto is just the best.”
“With a ham and cheese, cheddar cheese, sandwich, yeah?”
Nova laughs, nodding her head. There should be nothing to us bonding over food, but there is. We laugh about the best fries in town, whether Swiss or provolone is best with a mushroom burger—we prefer Swiss—and we even talk about the best holiday sweets. This is where I go wrong.
“My sister makes the best cookies,” I tell her as we’re enjoying two of those cookies. “On Christmas, she makes a little tray with the kids, for Santa, you know. Cookies, milk, even carrots for the reindeer. They still believe in the magic of it all. I am glad they do. I hope they embrace that magic for a long time. I can remember when I found out about Santa. Last year was a tough Christmas for me,” I joke but her smile fades as her eyes go distant.
Silence stretches between us as the afternoon turns brisk. I move closer to her again, as if I can shield her from the coming storms or whatever I said wrong. For a moment, she snuggles against me, accepting my embrace. It is all too brief because she pulls back, squaring her shoulders as her chin lifts.
“Time for me to go back. This was lovely, Niko,” she murmurs, but her head is down, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
“What did I say? How did I mess up?” I wonder aloud, frowning at her.
Standing, she glances back at me before she shakes her head. I stand too, forgetting the mess we’ve left, going after her. I reach her before she can escape the clearing, and I tug her back. I bring her against my chest, cradling her soft frame close as she trembles.
“You did nothing wrong. Most people can discuss the holidays. I am just...I guess I am not most people.”
Having just spent quality time with her, I can agree with that. Nova is unlike anyone I have ever met. Witty and wise, she is quick to laugh, but serious when she talks, focused when she listens. I’ve never had such a connection with someone so fast, with such ease. We’ve got so much in common, we talk as if we’ve known each other much longer than today.
Yet there is that sadness to her that I cannot get past. A sadness I trigger whenever I mention the holidays. I want to ask what created that sadness and how I might be able to defeat it. Before I can ask anything, she is across the clearing, and I have to stumble after her.
“Nova, wait. Wait, what about dinner or brunch?”
I am calling after her as I trip over myself. I catch her just as she reaches the edge of the woods, my hand grasping her wrist. I tug gently and she stops, but she does not turn back. Does not give me her eyes or let me see her face when I ask again.
“I am sorry for whatever I said, honey. I want to see you again.”
“You know where to find me.”
I start to let her go when I recognize she is upset and nothing I am going to say will make it better. All I want to do is make it better. To get her to smile again. To get her to wish for snow white Christmases or to wish for anything at all.
“I am going to give you back some magic, Nova. I promise. I don't know why or how, but I am going to. It's something in your eyes, I think. Prettiest eyes I have ever seen before,” I whisper, reaching out to brush her lilac hair back from her neck as the wind kicks up. “They’re so damn pretty, but so sad. I want them to be happy. To sparkle with happiness.”
“That is no one else's job,” she husks, glancing back at me. “It is up to me to make myself happy. To choose what makes me happy.”
“Tell me what does make you happy? Holidays, celebrations, families, that is what makes me happiest. My niece and nephew. My little sister. If I am under the hood of a car, taking apart an engine, I am at my happiest.”
“You like to fix things. To make things better,” she says it softly, but it feels like an accusation.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess I do. I like to take things apart, see how they work, and make them better.”
Nova turns, staring me down for a long moment. It lasts just long enough for me to know what I said was a mistake. Maybe everything about me bringing her out here, to this little picnic, to show off somehow for her, was all wrong. Hell, maybe how I think about a lot of things is wrong.
“I do not need to be fixed. Or made better. I am just fine the way I am. I happen to like who I am. How I live. What I do and do not celebrate.”
“Oh, honey, I don't doubt that. There is nothing about you that is wrong or broken. Even if your eyes don't sparkle.”
Nova's eyes lighten just a little. Sparkle for just a moment. “Who says they ever sparkled before, Peter Pan?”
Turning on her heel, she strides away, leaving me to watch her. I follow, a smile overtaking my face. I got this right after all, I think. Not taking her to some fancy French joint or even my sister's diner to sweeten her up. Coming here, to find some quiet with each other, to find the one thing that is behind the connection I have felt from the very start.
“Nova,” I call after her as she saunters down the walk towards her shop. It is just starting to snow, and it could not be more perfect. “I am going to make your eyes sparkle again, or sparkle for the first time. We will find something to celebrate together, honey. Maybe even Christmas.”