Chapter 10 Derek
DEREK
Iwatch Darcy and Judi-Bloom—who apparently wants to be called J.B. now even though this is the first I’m hearing of it—laugh and chat their way through lunch like long-lost sisters while Grandpa Michael looks on fondly.
Everything is changing, from Grandpa’s illness right down to the name Judi-Bloom’s mom gave her.
But somehow I don’t feel like the bottom’s going to drop out from under us if I don’t force my grandfather into surgery or tell my daughter she’s not too cool for her name.
And I think that has everything to do with Darcy.
She’s the most organized person I know, but she also has this good-natured flexibility that must be rubbing off on me.
A tiny bit at least.
When Bronson swoops in with our food and places massive plates of barely disguised sugar in front of the girls I feel a twinge of frustration.
But I turn my attention to my own grilled chicken and keep my thoughts to myself. We all eat heartily, and even Grandpa Michael puts away a big bowl of chicken noodle soup.
By the time the meal is over I’m feeling halfway normal again and all I want is to take them all on a carriage ride and keep this good feeling going. But I know what I have to do instead.
Playtime is over.
“Well,” I say as I stand up, hating how gruff my voice sounds. “Darcy needs to catch up on some work stuff, and I need to run some errands.”
“We can do both at the same time,” she offers cheerfully.
J.B. looks a little down at that, and I’m worried for a second that she’s going to retreat into her headphones and disappear on me. She tends to use them to cope when she gets overwhelmed, and I’m proud of her for keeping them off for so long, especially in a crowded public place like the lodge.
She’s always had some sensory issues. She doesn’t like a lot of loud noises, or even noises that I don’t think are that loud. That’s why she’s been allowed to wear earplugs or headphones whenever she wants since she was a little kid.
But ever since she officially became a teenager this year, she’s been using the headphones to escape more than just noise.
“J.B., why don’t you stay here with me?” Michael says. “We can get out the chess board.”
J.B.’s frown turns upside down instantly. She loves chess, always has. I envy her a little. Some chess beside a crackling fire sounds amazing right now.
“You’re on,” she says, leaping out of her chair.
When Darcy stands I take her hand. I tell myself it’s part of the act. But it was instinct, not a plan that made me want to do it. And the good feeling it gives me is very real.
Especially now that the ring that means so much to my family is around her finger. How it got there is kind of a blur. But the cool hard surface of the delicate band contrasts with the warm softness of Darcy’s fingers and I want to pull her close and kiss her all over again.
What are you doing to me?
I didn’t think to ask him this afternoon, but I can’t help thinking about the fact that my grandfather didn’t offer me this ring to give to Addie all those years ago. I wonder what it is about Darcy that makes him feel like this is different.
He’s letting go of Grandma’s ring because he won’t need it much longer, a little voice in the back of my head reminds me.
Sadness joins the other emotions swirling in my chest and for a moment I feel like Darcy’s hand is the only thing anchoring me to reality.
I have to let go for us to put on our coats, and I can already feel myself drifting away. But once they’re on, she grabs my hand this time like she knows I need her, and somehow I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
I open the front door to the lodge to see lazy snowflakes drifting down again and marvel at the magic in it.
A gentle snow in the city doesn’t look like this. The snowflakes there always look more like rain—reflecting the colors of the buildings and traffic lights in their hurry to the ground, and instantly turning to gray slush from the endless movement of cars and feet.
Standing here on the porch of the lodge, we’re looking out over a swirling white vista with nothing in the world to spoil it. We could be in one of those Christmas movies my grandma used to love.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Darcy breathes.
“Yes,” I agree, squeezing her hand lightly.
There’s not a soul out here to see us. But this time she doesn’t take her hand away. We just look out over the woods together for a long moment, the clouds of our breath mingling in the crisp air.
“So what errands are we running?” she asks at last.
“We have to pick up some things for J.B. now that she’s here,” I tell her as we start down the steps.
She nods but stays kind of thoughtful as we walk on.
It’s so beautiful on the little road that leads back to the cabin, but I can’t take it in because I’m worried about Darcy.
Is she changing her mind about all this?
Grandpa Michael is so happy. I can’t imagine what it would be like to tell him it isn’t real.
Not to mention my own feelings, which seem to be running away with themselves.
Control yourself, Lockwood.
But my iron handle on my desires is slipping these last few days. So instead, I comfort myself with the idea that she’s still holding my hand.
Too soon I’m having to let go to open her door for her.
She smiles a funny little smile, like she often does when I open doors or pull out chairs for her. I guess old-fashioned manners are uncommon enough to be funny to girls these days.
But I learned it from my grandfather, and he’s never steered me wrong, so I won’t be stopping anytime soon.
I get into the driver’s side and turn on the engine. It’s still freezing, but the heat should kick in quickly. Giving the engine a second to warm up, I glance over at Darcy.
She’s gazing at the ring on her finger, and when she looks up and catches me watching her she blushes.
The ring.
Maybe this is why she’s gone thoughtful. My grandma’s ring is priceless as far as I’m concerned. But for Darcy’s purposes it probably feels like some kind of bait and switch.
“Hey, listen,” I say, digging the other ring out of my pocket. “Take this. It’s still yours. The one on your finger isn’t worth much, but it was my grandmother’s ring. Michael wanted you to have it.”
I wanted you to have it.
“Oh,” she says softly. “I’ll give it back to you when we’re done then.”
The sadness in her eyes makes me realize that she really likes my grandmother’s ring. I want to tell her to keep it. There’s no one else I’ll ever give it to. And it looks just right on her finger.
But it’s not mine to give away, at least not under false pretenses.
Instead, I hand her the other ring box.
“Thanks,” she tells me as she tucks it in her bag. “This is very generous of you.”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her, not because it’s nothing. It very much isn’t. But because it’s nothing to me. And it’s nothing in the context of the send-off she’s helping me give to my grandfather.
I get the car moving and we start down the mountain. I drive slowly, sort of wanting to enjoy this time with her.
But she’s still so quiet.
“Are you okay?” I hear myself ask her.
“When are we going to tell J.B. the truth?” she asks.
I’m not really sure how to answer that. I never thought J.B. would be privy to any of this. And I’ve mostly been concerning myself with whatever trouble she got herself into that got her sent home in the first place.
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I’m not sure how well she can keep a secret like this one. She’s not exactly a good liar.”
That’s probably the understatement of the year. J.B. might be the most honest kid I’ve ever met, and she doesn’t exactly have a filter between what she thinks and what she says. This little act won’t last ten minutes if we let her in on it, and Darcy knows that.
“Then we need to get our stories straight,” she says after a moment.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We barely dodged a pretty important question at lunch,” she points out. “We don’t even know when we’re supposed to have started dating. We need to come up with some details that we can mention later if we have to.”
“You don’t like the lying,” I say. It’s not a question, not really. I know she’s an honest person, to a fault. She reminds me of Judi-Bloom in that way, though Darcy always tries to be polite and gracious.
“Do you?” she asks.
It’s a fair question, and I normally don’t. But the truth is that I’m starting to feel more and more like I’m not lying when I say that I care about her. It’s becoming a little too easy for me to pretend to be her man.
“We’re doing this for Michael,” I growl.
“Right,” she says, nodding. “So, when did we start dating?”
“How about the office Fourth of July celebration?” I offer.
“Oh,” she says softly.
I sneak a glance over at her and her eyes are shining.
There’s a reason I chose that party. I remember how much she loved the picnic lunch and the fireworks over the park. I can still see her now, legs curled under her as she sat with one of the women from HR and a couple of the other assistants.
She was laughing and eating an ice cream cone that melted down her chin at one point.
I wanted to curl up on a picnic blanket with her so badly, and lick that sticky strawberry ice cream right off her chin.
“We were sitting on a blanket in the grass,” I tell her. “And your ice cream melted and I reached over and swiped it off with my thumb, and our eyes met, and everything changed.”
“Wow,” she murmurs. “That’s so romantic.”
You have no idea.
“Thank you,” I chuckle.
“What color was the blanket?” she asks.
“It was more like a quilt,” I remember. “Blue.”
“Okay,” she says. “Who else was there?”
“Let’s say it was just us,” I suggest. “That way no one else can confirm or deny.”
“There were so many people,” she says. “Why would it have just been us?”
“We were planning a super important meeting for the next day,” I decide. “We had to strategize even though it was a party.”
“That does sound like us,” she says, nodding.
I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but when I look over at her she’s smiling.