Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
SILAS
One week later
I may have gone to the extreme, but I kept Isabelle inside for a good three days with the drapes drawn just to make sure that there was no sign of her retreating into herself.
I lived in fear for the first forty-eight hours that I was going to lose my daughter, but by Monday morning, she was just as bouncy and active as ever.
I wanted to keep her home from school until the new year, but she wasn’t having it. When she came down dressed in a tutu and a chunky black sweater, the only thing I could do was pack her lunch, feed her breakfast, and drive her to school.
Thankfully, I didn’t run into Clara in the hallway, and I didn’t linger by the door with the hope that she would come out. Instead, I hugged Isabelle—despite her protests—and then hurried back to my car.
That’s how I did every drop-off for the rest of the week.
Clara kept to herself. She spent the weekend after the play taking down all of her Christmas decorations until there was nothing left. I was grateful for her willingness to comply with the law here in Grinchland. It was nice that I didn’t need to enforce anything.
I tried to ignore my broken heart as I watched her load up the moving truck the next weekend.
I was standing off to the side with my coffee cup in hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice that she had an audience.
School was over, and it was time for winter break.
I could only assume that meant she was headed back to Winter Springs to spend Christmas actually celebrating the holiday.
I told myself it was for the best. That she deserved to find someone who was equally as enthusiastic about Christmas as she was.
I wanted to be that man for her, but I was only going to bring her down.
I was never going to jeopardize my daughter’s well-being for some twinkle lights and tinsel.
And those were the things that made Clara happy.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, watching Clara, but I stayed until the last box was loaded onto the moving truck and the back rolling door was shut and secured.
I stayed long enough to see Clara glance up and down the street before her gaze lingered on my house, causing me to tuck myself further into the shadows so she wouldn’t see me.
I stayed to watch her climb into her car and start the engine. And I stayed long after her car drove down the street and disappeared around the corner.
It was strange, Clara leaving. It was as if a light had been turned off both metaphorically and in actuality.
I didn’t want to admit it, but that woman had wiggled her way into my life whether I’d wanted her to or not.
And now that she was gone…I felt her absence. More acutely than I’d thought I would.
Isabelle and I kept to ourselves during the first few days of winter break. We went to the ice rink a few times, and I stayed on land while she braved the ice herself. Her joy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her gain more confidence in her skating.
She hadn’t brought up Clara since school got out, and I was beginning to feel as if our life was returning to normal until the morning of Christmas Eve.
I walked into Isabelle’s room to find her sitting on her floor with her dolls surrounding her.
She was hard at work with her little tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth while she glued strips of paper for one of her doll’s clothes.
Clothes that resembled something Clara would have worn.
She looked upset, so I moved to sit down next to her. “Everything okay, peanut?” I asked as I reached out to pick up the uneven star that she’d cut from yellow construction paper.
Isabelle glanced up at me, down to the star, and then back over to her doll. She was quiet for a moment. “Is Ms. Snow mad at me?”
I frowned and shook my head. “No. Ms. Snow isn’t mad at you. Why would you think that?”
Isabelle glanced over to her window. “All the lights stopped and the sounds stopped.” She looked up at me. “She’s gone.”
My heart broke for my daughter. It had to be hard, not understanding why people left you and yet being so acutely aware that they were gone. “She was just here to teach. She went back to her home for the break.” I reached out and tugged her toward me, wrapping my arms around her tiny body.
“Oh.” The word came out small and sad.
I bent forward and saw that her little bottom lip was jutted out, and it broke my heart. I hoisted her up into my lap so I could squeeze her tighter.
“I wish she would stay here forever.”
I wanted to agree with her. I wanted to tell her that I wished for that too, but I could never make Clara happy. It was better to let her go and find her happiness somewhere else than to have her stay where the one thing she loved was forbidden.
Isabelle suddenly twisted in my lap so she could look up at me. “Is it because I messed up the play?” Her voice wavered with sadness and it broke me inside.
I tucked her hair behind her ear before I shook my head. “No. She didn’t leave because of you.” She left because of me. I was the reason she wasn’t here.
Isabelle’s hands were turned palms up in her lap, and she was staring down at them. “I miss the colors. They made me feel happy.”
I frowned as I shifted her up to sit on my left knee in an effort to catch her gaze. “Do you feel sad now?”
Isabelle’s lip began to quiver as her gaze remained glued to her hands. “Ms. Snow made me feel excited. Since she left, I’m sad again.” Finally, she raised her gaze to meet mine. “I don’t want to feel sad again.”
I stared at her, taking my daughter in. I searched her gaze for any sign of the apathy that I saw after the accident, but it wasn’t there.
Maybe Clara had been right. Maybe Isabelle just had a case of stage fright and I had overreacted.
Isabelle was still with me. She was alive and breathing. Her eyes were bright, albeit sad.
And then guilt coated my chest.
In an effort to protect my daughter, I’d isolated her. I kept her from experiencing life because I was too scared that I would lose her. Instead of helping her live, she was slowly dying from my inability to see past my grief.
I’d taken things from my daughter with the hope that I was keeping her safe.
I thought canceling Christmas would make me feel better, but in the last three years, I wasn’t any happier. If anything, I was more unhappy than I’d ever been.
These last few weeks with Clara had made me happy, and I’d felt more free than I had in a long time. And Clara was the bringer of Christmas while I was the destroyer of it.
I stared at Isabelle, taking her all in and forcing myself to feel all of my emotions instead of running from them. I let myself feel sadness, grief, and anguish. But on the flip side, I also felt happiness, peace, and relief.
Just as all those emotions can exist in the same body, maybe Clara and I could exist in the same world as well. Sure we were opposites, but did that mean we weren’t meant to be?
I helped Isabelle to stand and then stood myself. I walked over to her window and glanced out at Clara’s quiet house. Tucked close to the garage was the tree that Isabelle had picked out.
I never thought I’d relate so closely to an inanimate object, but the longer I stared at it, the more I began to realize that I was like that tree. No one wanted me, but in Clara’s hands, she had created something beautiful. Our little family was happier and brighter with her in it.
Christmas may have caused me pain in the past, but this year, it had brought a new beginning for Isabelle and me. And I was the idiot who let that new beginning pack up and drive away.
Isabelle was standing behind me, holding her dolls tucked close to her chest and looking out the window. I turned and lifted her up. She giggled as she stared down at me.
“What do you think about going to get Ms. Snow?” I asked.
A smile emerged on her lips, and that was all I needed. I set her back down and instructed her to get her shoes on as I pulled my phone from my back pocket. I found my text chain with Todd and began to type.
Call me ASAP. I need your help.