Chapter 7 #2
Tisha cleaned her hands, then reached for a carton of popcorn for Sadie and cracked open a can of diet soda.
What a fun little gathering. The bat cracked against the ball, and the crowd cheered as a woman stomped through the snow in her giant, teardrop-shaped shoes, laughing as she hurried toward first base.
“What’s the matter?” Tisha glanced at Sadie. “Don’t you want any popcorn or Sprite?”
Sadie quirked her lip to one side, then looked away. “I actually have to use the restroom,” she said in a hushed whisper, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“No problem, honey.” Tisha took the popcorn and the unopened can of soda, setting them back on the truck’s tailgate. “I’m glad you said something.” She brushed a stray lock of Sadie’s hair from the collar of her jacket, smiling reassuringly.
“I’ll show you where it is,” Brody offered, puffing out his chest. “I know the way.”
Tisha offered Ethan a questioning glance.
“He can handle it,” he assured her with a nod. “Be a gentleman, Brody. Show her where it is and wait outside the door.”
“I got it, Dad.” Brody held up his palm like a stop sign, clearly eager to prove himself.
“All right. Come right back,” Tisha instructed, watching as Brody motioned for Sadie to follow him inside the resort.
Megan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Brody’s got his father’s leadership skills.”
Ethan grimaced. “Is that a good thing?”
“Of course,” Lance said, pouring some water into a portable bowl for the mama dog.
“You McGuire boys are being awfully attentive today.” Megan gently nudged Ethan’s shoulder, a playful challenge in her voice. “What gives?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan frowned. “I’m always attentive.”
Megan pinched her lips together and gave him a doubtful look.
“We really appreciate you inviting us out here.” Tisha said, determined to intervene before Megan provoked him into a grumpy mood. “Sadie will be talking about these puppies for days.”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a playful smile. “What kind of pie am I today, then, if you think I’m being sweet?”
“I didn’t say you were being sweet. Don’t get carried away.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But since you asked, I’d say…hmm, strawberry rhubarb.”
“Strawberry rhubarb? Those do not go together.”
“Hey, they sure do! I’ll make you a strawberry-rhubarb pie. You’ll see.”
“Take your time. I think I can wait.” He leaned back against the tailgate, crossing his arms with a smirk.
“By the way, where have you been? I never accepted your resignation as my official taste tester. I had to rely on the commoners for feedback this week.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and his expression turned serious. “So you’re saying you missed me?”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Interesting. Well, I guess I’ll have to come back again. What’s been your biggest hit so far?”
“I served some coconut custard to a lady who missed her flight on her way to her Hawaiian vacation. She said it was good, and then I served her husband chocolate chess pie.”
“Chocolate what?”
“I know. It’s a Southern thing. Long story short, it’s just a chocolate pie with whipped cream that I made myself. He loved it.”
“Sweet. Whipped cream is always a good idea.”
“Noted.”
His arm brushed against hers as he reached for a carton of popcorn. “You know, all kidding aside,” he said, popping a few kernels into his mouth, “I do think you’re up to something good with your pie. We have to find small victories where we can get them this time of year, right?”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Warmth stirred in her chest. “I really am just taking it one day at a time, trying to find my way.”
“That’s relatable,” he nodded, his gaze steady.
Tisha glanced at Megan and her boyfriend, who were too absorbed with each other to pay attention to their conversation.
Lowering her voice, she added, “I really want Sadie to have a great life, you know? She’s heard a dozen stories—probably more—about how much I loved living in Alaska after I graduated from college.
North Carolina has a lot to offer, but my family sort of scattered after my dad passed.
Only one of my sisters is married with a family, and things just weren’t the same once we sold the farm.
I want her to carry a piece of her dad with her. ”
“I get that,” Ethan said, cracking open a soda.
“Sometimes we have to do the hard, scary things because we know it’s going to be what’s best in the long run.
But I think you’re very brave, moving here.
Not a lot of single moms would start over close to their in-laws, you know? I really admire what you’re doing.”
“Uh-huh. Is that a compliment, Ethan McGuire?”
“Indeed, it is.” His gaze met hers, then held for a beat longer than necessary. “Don’t get used to it. I don’t hand them out very often.”
“Wow. Banner day.” She wasn’t about to admit how much his compliments about her pie and her parenting skills meant to her.
She took a long drink of her soda, grounding herself in the truth. They were here for Brody and Sadie, and for the puppies, but mostly to ensure that their kids learned to get along. Well-adjusted kids—that was their shared goal, but nothing more.
And yet, as Ethan laughed at something Brody said, an unexpected warmth blossomed in her chest. Not entirely unwelcome either.
Until she glanced at Sadie, whispering softly to the puppy cradled in her arms. Falling for Ethan was one thing.
But letting her daughter see a new relationship unfold? That probably wouldn’t end well.
Wow, he had really mismanaged this.
Ethan pulled off his knit hat, swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, then put his hat back on, feeling the chill of the Alaska air pierce through his layers.
The snow crunched underfoot, and the cold nipped at his cheeks, reminding him of how far he was from the warmth of Florida’s coastline.
“Mama, I’m freezing! Can we go back?” Sadie trembled, her little face scrunched up with displeasure, and her breath visible in the frosty air.
“Yeah, Dad, this isn’t any fun.” Brody had found a stick, likely a branch that had fallen from a tree. Now, he was whacking the broad base of a healthy spruce tree, sending snow cascading down onto Sadie.
“Brody, stop! That’s cold!” Sadie squealed, her eyes wide as the snow showered down on her.
“What? What did I do?” Brody turned and looked up at Ethan, confusion etched on his face.
“When you hit the tree, you knocked snow off the branches, bud,” Ethan said.
“And it went down my coat,” Sadie said, her eyes shimmering with impending tears.
“Oh no! Oh no, please don’t cry. Brody, what do you say?” Ethan urged, a knot tightening in his stomach.
“Sorry. I didn’t know,” Brody mumbled and tossed the stick aside, glancing apologetically at Sadie. Ethan turned toward Tisha, who stood beside him, cheeks flushed from the cold. The light that normally sparkled in her beautiful eyes had dimmed, replaced by a look of shared concern.
So she looked totally annoyed too. Super. Ethan blew out a long breath.
Brody gasped, suddenly distracted by the whine of an engine through the trees. “What’s that sound?”
“Uncle Luke has a snow machine out,” Ethan said.
“Do you think he’ll tow us?” Brody tromped in a semicircle in his snowshoes, clearly ready to head for the resort.
“We’re not broken down,” Sadie said, her voice rising.
Brody rolled his eyes. “We tie a rope to this thing. It looks like a giant cereal bowl, and we climb inside. Then he tows us back and forth around the parking lot. It’s super fun! You have to try it, Sadie.”
Tisha glanced at Ethan, skepticism written all over her face. “Do tell. What’s the story there?”
“Years ago, when the utility company installed fiberglass balls on the power lines to warn pilots about the overhead obstructions, they had a couple left over. So they asked my parents if they wanted them. Brody’s right.
It is kind of like a cereal bowl, and we run a rope through a bolt hole, tie the other end to the back of a snow machine, and pull each other around. ”
“What’s a snow machine?” Sadie asked, breathing hard as she plodded along on her snowshoes. Probably wanted to keep up with Brody, who’d picked up the pace.
Ethan stayed beside Sadie. “A snowmobile or a snow machine. It runs on a track and handles like an ATV.”
“Oh.” Her breath left little white clouds in the air. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
“You’ve never ridden on the back of a snow machine?” Ethan asked, glancing at Tisha.
“Nope.”
“Oh, we’ve got to change that,” Ethan said.
“Dad, I’m thirsty.” Brody stopped and called back over his shoulder. “Did you bring any water?”
“No. Let’s go back to the resort,” Ethan said, resisting the urge to sigh. Strike two. No snacks or beverages. He tried not to rush ahead, but now that he had failed at this outdoor adventure, he wanted to get back and forget about it as quickly as possible.
“Ladies, you go first,” he said, gesturing for Tisha and Sadie to go ahead of him.
Note to self: Don’t take kids accustomed to playing outdoors in the South on a snowshoe adventure, no matter how much they say they want to try new things.
An agonizing twenty minutes later, punctuated with lots of whining, they emerged from the trees. The resort came into view, a warm beacon against the cold backdrop. Ethan slowed his pace, and the tension eased from his jaw.
“Thank You, Lord,” he whispered, his shoulders dipping as the weight of the last thirty minutes loosened its grip.
“Yeah, a hundred percent.” Tisha reached over and high-fived his gloved hand. The warmth of her smile ignited something inside him that he couldn’t quite name.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like I really screwed this up.”
“Why do you think that?”