Chapter 27
Now that Carrie was trying to fly out, real snow, not just pretty, softly swirling flakes, had finally come to Greenridge.
Of course. It was their second time up to the airport; her first flight having been canceled due to lack of visibility.
A faint band of chilly blue sky ringed each mountain range now, however, so Cal figured she’d get out this time, no problem.
“I really appreciate this, really appreciate you,” she said, glancing over at him from the passenger side seat, pulling off her gloves.
“Wow, it must be almost Christmas. Look who’s getting all sentimental.”
“Shut up.” She smacked him with one of her freshly removed gloves.
“Won’t need those where you’re going.” Vancouver rarely had any snow worth mentioning, and on the odd chance some did fall, it quickly melted and didn’t stick around.
“I know, I know—and I’m serious.”
Cal turned the windshield wipers down a notch. He darted a glance over at Carrie. “I appreciate you too. And you’re going to have a great time with Jordy and Kelsey.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess . . . or I hope. It’s just not how I ever pictured my ‘family’ Christmases, you know?”
“Yep.” He hated how the sadder he was for someone, the more his words dried up. He wanted to make Carrie feel better, just—Poof! Magically not hurt anymore. Instead, he could barely string two words together.
“And divorcing when you have adult children?” Carrie continued. “If anyone had asked me, before all this became my reality, I would’ve assumed it would be easier on them than if they were little.”
Cal nodded.
“But it’s not—or maybe it is. I don’t know.”
Cal gave what he hoped was an understanding grunt, and Carrie shrugged.
“Either way, our split hurt them, though. Still does, I think. Makes them question their pasts, how they were raised, and what they thought was true about who Craig and I were—and I get it. I get it. Was everything a lie? Or maybe some parts were true, were good once . . . we’ll never know. ”
“Maybe not,” Cal agreed sadly, still wishing he had words of wisdom or encouragement, the way she always seemed to. Hell, he was a man, yet he looked at the choices some men made and he couldn’t understand them.
“It makes them look at their own relationships differently, too,” she said sadly, then added with a self-conscious laugh, “Blah, blah, blah—I’m sorry. I know it’s the same old, worn-out tune from me.”
He nodded—then shook his head. “Some things hurt so deep you have to go over and over and over them, just trying to make sense, to get by.”
She nodded.
“What happened sucks, but you are who you’ve always been, Carrie. You were never faking. If he’d told you he was unhappy, you would’ve tried to fix whatever it was you were doing or not doing.”
Carrie stared into the darkness and the gusting snow beyond the window that kept them from seeing more than a few feet in front of them.
“And how about you?” she asked a beat or two later. “You’ll be okay?”
“I think I can manage the office without you for a day until I close for the week,” he said, intentionally misunderstanding her.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. No, I’ll be grand.”
“You won’t just hole up in your house and not visit another living person the whole ten days I’m away?”
“Ha. No promises.”
A truck with a burnt-out taillight pegged the gas to get ahead of them before the double-lane merged into a single one. Cal had to pump the brakes. He shook his head.
“Idiot,” Carrie said.
“Me or him?”
“Him . . . but the verdict’s not in.”
“I won’t go full recluse, I promise.” He had every intention of keeping that promise too, because it had occurred to him that if he went at it steady, he might be able to get most, if not all, of Vic’s wish list done before he opened shop again January 2nd.
He’d keep that information to himself, of course.
“Planning to keep Vic a little company then?”
It was infuriating! “How can you always read me like a book?”
“Okaaaay, referring to yourself as a book is a bit of a stretch. Short story, maybe. Or an essay? No, I got—a haiku!”
“Hilarious.”
“Thank you!”
Cal signaled, shoulder-checked, then moved into the turning lane for the airport. He didn’t need to look at Carrie to know she was grinning smugly.
“Just be careful,” she said a second later.
“How so?” Cal pulled into the drop-off lane.
“You said yourself . . . She has problems. She reminded you of Melanie, for cripes sake.”
“Yeah, uh, I think that was unfair. And who doesn’t have problems? We all have problems.”
“You know what I mean.” Carrie unclicked her belt and stuffed her gloves into his glovebox.
“Yeah—but she’s self-aware. She’s working on herself. And honestly, I think her mother is the real issue.”
“Cal . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Just. Be. Careful.”
“I will be! And anyway, we really are just friends—and mostly just like employee-employer friends.”
“Uh huh.” Carrie climbed down from the van and grabbed her carry-on and small rollaway suitcase from the backseat.
Cal turned on his 4-ways, hopped out, and gave Carrie a bear hug. “You have a merry Christmas, okay? Make new memories with your kids.”
“I will,” she said. “Thanks—and good advice. I was telling myself that too. Don’t try to stick to old traditions. Make new ones.”
Carrie was at the big glass doors to Departures, and Cal was about to climb back in the van when she turned back. “Hey!”
“What?” Man, he hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Be careful!”
Man-oh-man. “I will. Now get lost!”
She waved and disappeared into a crowd of fellow travelers.