Chapter 17 Clara
CLARA
Dash had been following me around the cabin for two days.
The only time I'd left was to take him for a ski in the morning and a walk after dinner. Every time I sat down, he pressed against my legs, leaving fur all over my leggings. The same pair I’d slept in, worn skiing, and cried myself to sleep in.
Every time I stood, Dash was there, his nose bumping my hand.
"I'll be okay, Dashie-boy." I scratched behind his ears. "I'm so glad you're here with me." He yawned and stretched, then rested his head on the pillow next to mine.
Rolling over, I pulled aside the plaid curtain to look outside. The sun had risen, casting a tutu-pink haze over the Windswan range to the east. Today I needed to crawl out of my hole for the kids. It was Wizard of Oz day at the Christmas Classic.
My phone had died and I'd left it that way. The constant calls and the ding of text notifications were jarring to my nervous system. I'd blocked Beck, but that didn't stop me from looking to see if his name was on the screen. I was pathetic.
I rooted through my nightstand to find the charger and plugged it in, bracing myself for the barrage of notifications.
Dash went outside just far enough to pee, then returned to my side. I hopped from foot to foot in my bare feet as I waited for him. The floor was freezing. My woodpile was exhausted and I'd been too tired to fill up the metal bin.
Something fluttering in the cedar tree next to the door caught my eye. I plucked out a scrap of soggy paper, a disintegrating receipt with words scrawled on the back. The ink had bled so badly I could only make out a few words: fix; not…B.S.
B.S. was right.
I tossed it into the wood-stove and puff of cold ashes floated into the air.
My phone buzzed.
I wanted to ignore it, but I couldn't. It was Mr. White, Maddie's dad. People were depending on me.
Maddie has the flu. She's devastated, but she can't walk, let alone skate. I'm keeping her home today.
Shit.
The entire Wizard of Oz routine was built around Dorothy. Without her, the star of the show and the best of the subsidized skating kids, the show was screwed. All those rehearsals, for nothing.
Dash licked my hand. "I know, Dash. It looks like I'm lacing up my skates."
Red, green, and blue Christmas lights crisscrossed over top of the rink, giving a big-top vibe. Cedar boughs hung over the boards and giant red bows were taped to each side of the ice at the red line.
A jumbotron loomed over the packed stands and food trucks lined the pathway to the rink. A medley of smells floated in the air, a combination of hot chocolate, Growler Dogs (a hot dog with spicy chili), and Beaver Tails.
Dash trotted beside me, his nose in the air sniffing like it was his job.
Bang!
I jumped as a puck ricocheted off the frozen boards.
One of the young players charged toward me, picked it up, and gave me an apologetic wave with his hockey glove as he skated away.
It was still early and other than the food vendors, it seemed like it was just me and this keen hockey kid at the rink.
"Hold on, Dash." I paused to watch the boy skate. He had an effortless skating style that reminded me of a young Beck. Out of all the players who had come through the Bobcats’ franchise, only a few had made it to the NHL.
Logan and Beck were part of that club. This kid, if he kept practicing, would make it too; I could see the talent in him.
Low voices and laughter floated through the air. The rest of the Bobcats joined the lone player on the ice, skating slow warmup laps at the far end. The Eagles, their rivals, circled in the end closest to the parking lot. There was no sign of any of the Beardog Growlers. And no Beck.
Good.
A line of trailers had been set up behind the bleachers as makeshift dressing rooms. Inside ours, colorful costumes hung on hooks over the benches. Sequins, witch hats, a faux-fur mane, and velvet vests for the flying monkeys lined the wall.
I fingered the gingham-print Dorothy dress and held it up to me, even though I knew it was pointless. Like the Grinch’s heart, this dress was two sizes too small.
I dug through a rubber bin with extra costumes, hoping to find something Dorothy-like. Dash sniffed at the musty bin. There was nothing that would work. Today, Dorothy would be off to see the Wizard in Lululemon leggings covered in dog fur.
The door flung open and the first of the kids poured into the dressing room. Their excitement was infectious and even though I felt like trash, it was hard not to smile at a room full of kids in costumes.
A few of the skating moms volunteered to help dress the kids. Terra was having a hell of a time with the Tin Man's hat. The little boy, Zephyr, was having a meltdown because the elastic was too tight.
"Zephyr." I knelt in front of him. "What if we taped the funnel to your helmet, would you like that?"
He sniffed and nodded. "That strap doesn't hurt my chin."
Terra put her hands in a prayer position. "Thank you. I'm on it."
The Cowardly Lion, a little girl named Juniper, was totally in character, roaring at Dash. She grabbed onto his tail and he dragged her around the room while she squealed and giggled.
"That costume is perfect," I said, patting Terra's shoulder. "Juniper is going to steal the show."
Sophie grabbed my hand. "Coach Clara! Maddie's not coming! Her mom said she barfed everywhere!"
"I know, sweetheart." Looking around the room, I realized we were lucky more of the kids weren't sick yet.
"But who is going to do her solo?" Sophie's eyes were wide. In her little world, this was a catastrophe of epic proportions. I missed those days when my problems were figure skating and not man-related.
Clapping my hands, I got everyone's attention. "Alright, Oz kids. Maddie is sick, so guess who will be skating her part?"
A hush fell over the room as the kids looked at each other.
"Me!" I gestured to my chest with my thumb.
"Yay!" The kids jumped up and down. "This is going to be perfect now." Sophie, sparkling in her Glinda gown, hopped in her skates.
Terra handed me the red sequin skate covers. "Maddie has big feet; you should be able to stretch these over your skates. I'll be right back." She returned in minutes holding a garbage bag.
"Here." She pulled out a blue knee-length square-dancing skirt, complete with a matching crinoline. "Evie had this in her trunk for the skijoring circuit. I'm not sure what we can do for a top, though; she wears a jean jacket with leather fringes."
I unzipped my hoodie. "I'm wearing a white T-shirt. It's good enough."
"Hmm." Terra tapped her lips with her index finger. "One last thing." She handed me two red ribbons. "A couple of braids, a few freckles with some eyeliner, and you'll be off to see the Wizard."
While we waited for intermission, the game played on a monitor that took up the entire wall at the end of the trailer. The Bobcats were up four to two with only a few minutes left. "They're going to win, Coach Clara." Zephyr hadn't taken his eyes off the screen.
"It sure looks like it," I replied. This was going to be good for the town.
The camera panned the crowd, slowing as it reached a section of men all wearing matching jerseys and hats.
The Growlers. Most of them were already drinking beer and it wasn't even noon.
Wick, Freddie, Charlie, Mr. Plow; they were all there, laughing.
The camera paused on Logan, who was blocking the guy next to him.
"That's Logan Brush!" Zephyr clapped his hands.
Logan leaned forward and my knees buckled.
The little Lion pointed to the screen again. "And that's Beckett Shepherd. He played for Washington."
How did Beck have the nerve to show his face here? One of the last text messages I'd read was from Megan, saying Charlotte told her Logan had kicked Beckett off the team. Now that asshole was laughing like he hadn't just blown up the lives of everyone in this trailer, including mine.
I was still working on my second braid when I stormed out of the trailer and into the madness of the grandstand. I marched along the boards and stopped right in front of him. Logan saw me coming and put both hands up like I was a sheriff in an old-timey western.
"Logan." I couldn't look at Beckett. I gestured for Logan to come closer. "How could you let him back on the team?" I hissed.
"Clara, there's stuff you don't know."
"I know he's a liar who chose a paycheck over doing the right thing."
"Clara." This time it was Beckett who said my name. "I can explain."
I held up my hand. "I'm not talking to you."
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice blasted across the rink. "It's the last minute of play."
The bleachers creaked as everyone in the stands stood and cheered. "I have to go," I said. "There are people counting on me and I don't let people down, especially little kids."
The noise from the crowd was deafening, but all I could hear was the whoosh of my heartbeat. Logan's voice was on a loop in my mind: "There's stuff you don't know."
Terra had the Flying Monkeys lined up at the door. "We've got a couple of minutes while the ice is resurfaced." She checked her watch. "There's someone who wants to see you."
"Is it a man?" I groaned.
She blinked. "No. Actually, it's not. She's waiting in the volunteer trailer."
"This better be fast. I'll be right back, Terra. Keep these Flying Monkeys in line."
Everleigh King was alone in the volunteer trailer, looking like she'd stepped off the pages of a J.Crew catalog. Her baby was asleep on her chest in a carrier, her head resting on Everleigh's houndstooth sweater.
"Clara Dalton. I'm Everleigh King. We met the other day at the car..."
I interrupted. "I know who you are."
Everleigh's lips turned up and she tilted her head. She probably wasn't used to being interrupted, but I didn't care. "I'm about to skate."
"This will be quick."
I crossed my arms.