Chapter 17 Nick
SEVENTEEN
NICK
I already knew that Evie was incredible, but watching her ride was like watching a player like McDavid or Gretzky skate.
Sitting across the farmhouse table, watching her dunk the chunk of sourdough into Muriel’s homemade Irish stew while discussing her plans for that bad horse Jerk-O, or whatever his name was, I saw her in her element.
Her world. I wondered if that’s what she saw when she watched me at the hockey game.
My heart sank as I remembered the puck sliding between my legs.
“What do you think of that Windswan player who scored?” Mr. Lumber wiped his white mustache with the mistletoe-themed napkin that matched the tablecloth.
Muriel spooned more stew into my bowl without asking if I wanted seconds.
“I think that he’s good, but two guys on the Bobcats are better—Chaser and Mack.”
Mr. Lumber nodded. “Yep. Those fellas are good, but that Windswan guy, he got the puck past you. That’s a pretty big deal. From what I hear, you’re quite the wall.”
I was flattered at the wall comment, but also embarrassed that the Windswan Eagle had scored on me.
“I should’ve had that goal, I was momentarily distracted.
” My eyes shot to Evie and I wondered if she knew that the distraction was her.
She did something to me. Earlier, with the horse, I wasn’t nervous about touching it, my hands were shaking because I hadn’t expected to be that close to Evie ever again.
Mr. Lumber wiped his bowl clean with the bread and got up from the table.
“I hope you work out whatever was distracting to you. Times have been tough here since the paper mill shut down, the people here need something to celebrate.” He put his bowl in the sink, rested his hand on Muriel’s shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek.
“That was the best stew you’ve ever made. ”
She rested her face on the back of his hand. “It looks like you’re going to have to get the plow truck out for Evie.”
Ever since we came into the main house for stew, the snow had been piling up on the back deck. It was now over the bottom sill of the French doors, and the drifts near the railing were almost two feet high.
“It’s okay, that car has four wheel drive,” Evie said. “I should be able to get out just fine.”
Over stew we had discussed horses, hockey, the lodge Jack was building, and Henri’s latest book.
I tried not to look at Evie, but every once in a while, I let my eyes drift across the table.
A couple of times she was doing the same thing.
Every time our gaze met, I jerked to look away as quickly as possible.
Mr. Lumber put on his jacket. When he opened the door, the wind howled and the snowdrift fell inside. “I’ll clear the driveway, Miss Evie. Even with a four by four, that fancy car ain’t going nowhere.”
“It’s not necessary.” Evie started to stand, but Mr. Lumber held out his hand. “I’m clearing it anyway; you might as well sit and have some dessert.”
Muriel got up from the table and returned with a homemade pie. “Is that apple?” Evie asked.
“You bet it is.” Muriel handed her a knife and pie lifter.
Evie smiled. “Today I learned that my grandmother’s first boyfriend’s favorite pie was apple.” She cut into the dessert. “Who wants a piece?”
Everyone raised their hands. “Should I serve one for Mr. Lumber too?”
Muriel put her hand on Evie’s shoulder. “He might be out there for a while. I’ll put his in the fridge.”
I’d only known Evie for a few days, but I could tell that she was uncomfortable. She was a kind woman, one who liked to do things for other people—not the other way around. I admired that in her, but also wished that she’d let people help her a little more.
Evie put a piece on a plate and handed it to Muriel. She put it in the fridge and returned to the table. “Is that Gary you’re talking about? Your grandmother’s first boyfriend?”
“No.” Evie cut into the pie with the edge of her fork. “Her first boyfriend was a guy named Clarence. He was the captain of the Bobcats ten million years ago.”
Muriel chuckled. “I remember Clarence. I was just a little girl, but everyone in town talked about him. He was the star player. I forgot that he was with Janie all those years ago.”
“What happened?” Evie rested her elbows on the table and set her chin on her knuckles.
“Yeah, what happened?” Henri perked up. “This sounds like it could be a book.”
“Well…” Muriel took off her glasses and polished them with her apron. “I think that he was drafted into the war.”
Evie’s voice was soft. “Poor GJ.”
“Oh, honey.” Muriel patted Evie’s hand. Your GJ is a tough old bird, but she was even tougher when she was young. She had a great life with your grandpa Gary. Her heart was just too strong compared to his.”
“Gary died of a heart attack?” Henri asked.
“Dropped dead while he was pumping gas into his car.” Muriel was an interesting mix of kind and caring and horribly blunt.
Henri took out a notepad and scribbled on one of its pages. “It just goes to show you that you never know what could happen.”
“Gotta live every day like it’s your last one.” Muriel nodded. “Mr. L and I tell each other one thing we like about each other every night before we go to sleep.”
“I’m definitely putting that in a book.” Henri scribbled some more into her notebook.
We finished up our pie and I stood to clear the table. “Don’t you dare.” Mrs. L pushed me back into my chair. “I’m making some coffee. You’re my guest.”
I guess I was more like Evie than I thought. Having someone be this nice and do things for me was foreign, and I didn’t know if I liked it.
Henri looked up from her notebook at Evie. “How was Nutmeg. It looked like you two got along well.”
“She’s a beautiful horse,” Evie gushed. “One of the best I’ve ridden in a long time.”
Henri smiled. “She likes to gallop. Jack is the only one comfortable doing that, so I’m sure that Nutmeg is in heaven with you. As a matter of fact, she comes from a background of skijoring. I’m sure she would love to enter the contest on Monday.”
Evie put her hand to her chest. “Are you asking me to ride Nutmeg in the skijoring event?”
“I sure am.” Henri scraped the last few crumbs of crust off her plate and licked her fork.
“I would love to do it. I’ve never competed in that particular event, but I’ve done a lot of barrel racing. The only thing is, we don’t have a skier.”
Henri picked up her pen, something that seemed to be a nervous habit. If she wasn’t holding something else, like a utensil, that pen was in her hand. She tapped it on her chin. “Leave that with me, I think I might have just the person.”
Evie’s eyes sparkled. “If you can find someone, I would love to race Nutmeg.”
“Are you thinking who I’m thinking?” Muriel had already washed up the dishes and returned to the table with a full pot of coffee.
Henri grinned, bit the end of her pen, and nodded. “Let me ask her before anyone gets too excited.”
I could tell it was already too late for excitement. Evie looked radiant. Maybe it was the fresh air, the riding, or maybe it was just because she was so damn gorgeous, but everything about farm life suited Evie Newton.
The front door opened and Mr. Lumber kicked the snow off his boots. “The battery is dead in the plow truck. It looks like this storm might be stalled over top of us. Evie, you’d better call your grandmother and tell her that you have to spend the night out here.”
Evie’s chest expanded. The breath she took was visible from the opposite side of the table. “Are you sure I can’t make it out?”
“You’re welcome to try, but when you get stuck, it will just be more work for us in the morning.” Jack finally participated in the conversation. “I’ll get some extra sheets and towels. You’ll have to sleep down in the cabin with Nick. Is that ok with you two?”
I cleared my throat. Coming to the farm had been my attempt to get away from Chance Rapids, Christmas, and Evie. Now, I was surrounded by the kindest Rapidians, a fifteen-foot Christmas tree, and Evie was going to be sleeping next to me, again.
“That’s fine. Evie can take the loft.”
“Well, that’s settled.” The chair scraped on the worn hardwood floor as Mrs. L stood and brushed her hands together. I’ll get you two a carafe of coffee for the walk down there and Jack will bring down some extra bedding.”
“I’m sure we can manage. Jack, you don’t have to come down. I know the way.”
“Suit yourself,” Jack said.
Armed with a stack of bedding, a steaming thermos of coffee, and a set of headlamps, Evie and I started our journey down the trail to the spot at the bend of the river where the little cabin stood.