Chapter 6 Clara
CLARA
The drive home was a blur of Christmas lights and then just blowing snow.
When I pulled into my driveway, I sat staring at the cabin through the melting snow on my windshield. When eighteen-year-old Beckett left, it hurt like hell, but in a way, I got it, because I understood him.
But that man. The one at the rink today, I didn't know him at all.
That's what happens when they miss your cock. They get dramatic. His gross laugh. Followed by Rob's even grosser cackle, brought back the barfy feeling to my stomach.
The, movement in the front window, a wagging tail, pulled me back to reality.
Dash's nose fogged the glass, leaving smear marks next to the ones I’d been planning to clean since the summer.
Dash knew the sound of my truck and was probably wondering what was taking me so long to come in and fill up his dinner bowl.
"I'm coming, Dashie-boy.”
The path I'd shoveled that morning was gone.
Snow crested over the top of my boots, soaking my leggings.
Dash met me at the door, hopping and spinning like a goofy bronco, then ran to his food dish.
I held the door open. "Are you sure you don't want to pee first?
" If a dog could roll their eyes, he did.
"Alright, but we have to do something about this snow after your dinner.
" I went through the motions, trying to think about anything other than Beckett the asshole.
I fed Dash and took him for a walk down the road after clearing the pathway again.
With the wood-stove loaded and my wet clothes hung to dry, I changed into my rattiest sweatpants and a hoodie with the hole in the sleeve that I couldn't bring myself to throw out.
I'd spent fifteen years getting over Beckett Shepherd. If I'd known how big of a jerk he truly was, I could've cut that down significantly. Like, to nothing.
I thought what we had was real. Today, he did me a favor. He showed me I was no different than any of the town’s puck bunnies.
Maybe it was a crude joke to impress some asshole councilman, maybe it wasn't. Either way, it didn't matter.
My phone lit up with a message from Megan.
How are you doing? I'm coming over with food. Don't argue.
I'm fine. And not hungry.
I told you not to argue. See you in thirty minutes.
Twenty-nine minutes later, headlights swept across my yard. Dash's tail went into hyper speed when she knocked on the door. Visitors meant treats.
"Coming," I shouted.
Snow fell onto my rag rug as I opened the door. My boss held out a grease-soaked paper bag, catching a giant thermos as it slipped from where she'd tucked it under her arm.
"Nice catch." I took the thermos from her.
"Can you believe all the snow?"
I chuckled. "It reminds me of the snow we used to get when I was a kid."
"The legendary twenty-feet-of-snow Chance Rapids winters." Megan rolled her eyes. "You sound like Charlotte."
"Are these what I think they are?"
"Fresh out of the deep-fryer." Megan kicked off her snow boots, her socks held onto her feet by nothing but her big toes. "Did the cinnamon smell give them away?" She grunted as she fixed her socks.
"That, and the grease." I sniffed the almost see-through paper bag. I set it and thermos on the counter of my eat-in island.
"And apple cider from the brewery. Grab some mugs." Megan met me in the kitchen and opened a couple cupboard doors before finding the one with the mugs.
"From the brewery?" I raised my brows.
"Virgin." Megan poured two mugs of cider and opened the paper bag. "Eat." She handed me one. It was still warm enough that sugar crystals stuck to my fingers. I wasn't hungry, but Megan’s love language was food.
I bit in. I was wrong. I wasn't hungry, I was ravenous. But as the flavor hit me, something else did too. My chest heaved and I tried to stifle the surprise wail that escaped from my body.
"Okay. Okay, I've got you." Megan pulled me into a hug that smelled like cinnamon and coffee. She held on, letting me ugly-cry into her parka until I pulled away, worried that I was going to leave snot marks on her nice coat.
Megan steered me to the couch and wrapped my grandmother's musty quilt around my shoulders. Dash hopped on the bed and planted himself on my lap. "Thank you." I sniffled.
"Sometimes all we need is a hug and a two-thousand-calorie pastry.
" Megan unzipped her coat and hung it on the hook next to the wood-stove.
She settled into the armchair across from me, holding her mug of cider with both hands.
"And sometimes we need to talk to our boss, who is also our friend. " She winked.
I sighed. "Where do I start?"
Megan shrugged. "How about with the boy?"
Was I ready for this? The pain of our breakup was something I'd shared with very few people.
My best friend helped me through those years.
When she left for college, I decided I was done crying over him.
"His name is Beckett Shepherd, I used to call him…
" My voice faded. I couldn't bring myself to say Beck.
Beck was gone. "We dated in high school.
He got a hockey scholarship and promised we could do a long-distance relationship. That plan lasted until Thanksgiving."
"Typical." Megan rolled her eyes.
"He came home and told me he needed to focus on hockey and that he could never come back to a life in Chance Rapids.
A life with… A life with me. He said that he needed to 'think bigger' than this place.
" I picked at a loose thread in the quilt.
"He left fifteen years ago, and I haven't seen him since.
Until I pulled his stupid rental SUV out of a snowbank. "
Megan's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "So, the guy from this morning is your high-school sweetheart."
"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," I said through a moan as I took another bite of beaver tail. "And now he's back to bulldoze the arena so his billionaire boss can build overpriced townhouses for trust-fund ski bums."
"Jesus Christ, Clara. He's here to ruin Christmas."
"Oh, it gets better." I hadn't thought of Beck as the Grinch, but the shoe certainly did fit. "This afternoon after the kids' skating session, Beck showed up with the Mayor and that ass-hat councilman."
"Rob," Megan said.
"Yeah, Rob." I didn't hide my hatred. “While they were touring the rink, I overheard him say some pretty fucked up stuff to Rob."
"What kind of effed up stuff?" Megan sipped her cider.
"He said..." I thought I was okay, but as I struggled to get the words out through my tight throat, I wondered if I could get through the rest without crying. "He said that's what happens when women miss his cock. That we get dramatic and that we're all crazy."
"Are you fudging kidding me?" Megan's mug hit the table hard enough to slosh cider onto the coaster. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I wish." My hands squeezed the quilt. "And then he basically called me a small-town girl who never got out. Someone who couldn't possibly understand business."
"That absolute fucking asshole." Megan dropped the real f-bomb, something she rarely did in front of me. "I'm sorry, I know he's your ex, but I want to punch him in his stupid face."
"Get in line."
"What was he like before? Because right now I'm struggling to see what you ever saw in him."
It was a fair question.
“He was captain of the hockey team. I was the Western Division champion figure skater.
It felt like we were made for each other.
" Now that I was in my thirties, I heard how stupid that sounded.
"He made me laugh until my stomach hurt.
He'd show up to my skating practices and sit there in the cold.
He'd watch me fall on my ass over and over, and then cheer me on when I landed a jump.
" His cheers and whistles would echo in the rafters.
"But we were both different people back then. Kids, really."
Dash shifted, and I rubbed his velvety ears as I continued. "We had this whole future planned. He'd play pro hockey, I'd compete in the Olympics and we'd figure it out together. Except he got a full ride to U of W. Which was amazing. I was happy for him. Really."
"But?"
"But he couldn't stop talking about getting out. How Chance Rapids was too small. How everyone here was stuck." The words still stung.
“That’s not the kind of thing you say to someone you care about.”
I felt the need to clarify. "He never said I was stuck. Not directly. He wanted me to give up skating to come with him. Maybe wait tables or something while he chased his dreams."
"That's not how relationships work."
"No. It's not.” I met Megan's eyes. “My mom had stage three breast cancer and she needed me. But Beck… Beckett," I corrected myself. "He couldn't understand that. Or didn't want to."
“Your mom was sick. What was there to understand?”
“Well, my mom didn’t want anyone to know that she was sick. So, he thought I just didn’t want to leave my small-town life.”
“Oh.”
"He left after Thanksgiving and ghosted me completely.” Tears welled in my eyes. “I found out through the Chance Rapids Gazette that he was signed to the NHL. Megan, it was radio silence until he showed up here."
Megan leaned forward. “Nothing?”
"After Mom died, I spiraled. Hard." I stared at my hands. “I drank too much, and started taking pills. I was angry at everyone. I’m sure you've heard the rumors. Clara Dalton was white trash personified.”
"Clara—"
"I quit skating and became exactly the small-town loser that Beckett knew I'd become."
Megan stood and joined me on the couch. "Hey, you were never… that."
"It's okay." I fed the last of the beaver tail to Dash. "I know exactly who I was and where I was heading, and I didn't care."
"How did you get through it?" There was no judgment. She knew I didn't drink, but I'd never told her why.
"Mrs. Krinkle, you know, the church lady who makes the pink popcorn balls for the bazaar, she would literally show up at my trailer and drag my hungover ass to practice.
The benevolence society paid for my ice time.
" I had to stop, breathe. "Those women saved me.
And then coaching those little girls..." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.
"They gave me a reason to stay sober. To be more than a small-town loser. "
The birch logs crackled. Megan wrapped her arm around my shoulders and squeezed tightly. "You're an incredible woman, Clara. Everyone in this town knows that, at least anyone who is paying attention."
"And now Beck wants to tear it all down. For fucking townhouses that'll sit empty for half of the year."
Megan’s arm stayed on my shoulder. "Can I tell you something that might sound irrelevant?"
"Sure."
"When I first moved here, I had to pretend to be Charlotte. It's a long story." She took her arm from my shoulder and clasped her hands in her lap. "I thought I had to be someone else to survive here. To be accepted. And it almost cost me Josh."
I wasn't sure where she was going with her backstory. "Are you saying I should talk to Beck?"
"God, no. He doesn't deserve that. I'm saying you should fight. Not for him. For those kids." She paused. "And make Beckett Shepherd realize he picked a fight with the wrong woman."
She was right. I took a deep breath, letting the anger fuel me.
"The town deserves to know what's happening," I said. "The real story. Not whatever those glossy brochures say."
"What are you thinking?"
I hopped up, opened my laptop, and navigated to the community page. It was one of those pages where people posted about free firewood and whose teenager was driving too fast down Main Street.
“We demand transparency. Let’s force them to hold a public meeting and make them answer to real people.”
"Hell yes." Megan looked over my shoulder. "What are you going to say?"
It came together as I started typing.
Town Council is considering selling the Chance Rapids Arena to a developer who plans to demolish it and build townhouses. We deserve a PUBLIC meeting to discuss this. Not backroom deals. Mayor Mavis, make this right.
I read it aloud.
"Add your phone number," Megan said. "People are going to want to talk to you.”
Once I posted this, there was no taking it back. I took a deep breath and added my number.
"It's perfect," Megan said. She sat on the bed and Dash shimmied onto her lap, sniffing her crotch. "I think he smells my dog, Timber." She returned to the chair by the wood-stove.
All I had to do was push the post button, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
Would this snowball out of control? I balled my hand into a fist. "I might need a few hours off to take care of this.”
"You got it, Clara." Megan pulled out her phone. “Actually, can we talk about the schedule for a minute? I messed up and forgot about a few Christmas events? When are the kids skating?”
Was this the reason she came in the first place? The schedule? "The kids are performing The Wizard of Oz during intermission at The Christmas Classic hockey game.”
"What about the dogsled race? Is there any way you can work that day? Lily wants to go see it and Josh has to work."
"I've seen those a million times, I can totally work that day."
Megan tapped a note on her phone. “You’re a lifesaver.” She looked up and pointed at the computer. “Are you ready?”
"Were you trying to distract me with the schedule?”
Megan shrugged. "You got me. I thought The Wizard of Oz performance might inspire you."
The arrow hovered over POST.
I thought about Maddie's face when she landed that lutz. About every kid who'd ever laced up skates on that ice.
I also heard Beckett Shepherd calling me a small-town girl like it was an insult.
Fuck. That.
Fuck. Him.
I hit POST.
After Megan left, I flopped onto my bed and buried my face in Dash's scruff. "We're going to save that rink."
If saving the rink ruined Beckett's developer career, well, that was just a pleasant side effect.