Christmas in the Rink

by Dora Hiers

  “Oh!” Chaney’s gloved hand rubbed the spot on her hat. When she glanced up, he fired another round. “Oh!” Her boots did a tiny dance in place, and then she dived behind the nearest shrub. “You’re going to get it now, Weddington!” she squealed, her voice quivering with laughter.

  He scooped up a fistful of snow and packed it tight, then handed it to Annabelle. “When Aunt Chaney pokes her head away from the bush, fire away, Annabelle!” He ordered and turned to leave.

  “OK,” Annabelle agreed.

  He put a finger up to his lips, indicating not to give away his plan of attack.

  “Give it all you got, Mitchum! Let’s see what you’re made of.” He hollered, then hunched over, tiptoeing through the snow as quietly as a six-foot man could, taking care that his boots didn’t crunch too much.

  Chaney’s laughter tinkled out, cutting through the stillness of the morning and the sounds of far off traffic. Her head popped up over the shrub and her eyes widened.

  “Throw it, Annabelle!” he ordered.

  Annabelle’s sweet giggles coincided with a plop, her snowball landing a few inches from him. He turned around and glared at the culprit. “You’re supposed to aim for your Aunt Chaney. Not me.”

  Annabelle’s tiny face crackled, and more giggles erupted. She twirled around, clapping, and then reached down to scoop up more snow.

  He’d get her later. First, another Mitchum was calling his name. He turned back around, and—

  Splat. This one landed on his cheek.

  “You are so going to get it now!” He gave up all pretense of sneaking and charged the bush.

  Like a bunny, she darted out from behind the bush and raced across the yard next to the skating rink, her boots sinking deep into the snow. Three huge steps, and he managed to snag her waist, slowing her progress.

  That’s all he’d intended to do, but she twisted in his arms, laughing and swatting at him, trying to untangle herself from his grasp. His boots lost their traction, and he lurched forward. Somehow, he managed to regain his balance, but in the process, he tightened his grip on Chaney, and she plowed into his chest, snuggling right next his heart, the top of her fuzzy hat tickling his chin.

  “Oh!” Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she arched her back to peer up at him, her eyes wide and gorgeous, so full of life and…joy. Her mouth rounded, and her eyes transformed, suddenly glittering with an emotion infinitely more dangerous. Something that matched his own?

  Church bells chimed in the distance, but the pulse pounding through his head stamped out all other sounds. Her arms wound around his neck, and time stopped. And his lungs.

  When her lids fluttered over those creamy cheeks and she lifted her face, he leaned down, counting the milliseconds until he tasted the sweetness—

  Something slammed into his legs, throwing him off kilter. He tightened his grip on Chaney. His head whipped around and down to—

  “Hug,” a sweet little voice said. One of Annabelle’s miniature arms latched around his leg; the other wrapped around Chaney’s.

  Just like those little arms, gratitude latched around his heart. Thankfulness for a part-time job that allowed him the opportunity to help Chaney’s students with their recital practice, that granted him special moments like this. Nothing he’d ever experienced felt more precious, more…right.

  8

  “And God, please take care of my mommy, wherever she is. Amen.”

  Chaney echoed Annabelle’s amen and slid Hailey’s picture back on the nightstand next to the lamp.

  “An Chaney, I had fun today.” Only Annabelle’s cute pixie face poked out from beneath the covers. That, and tiny knuckles that gripped the blanket.

  Annabelle stated what Chaney had been afraid to admit in her own heart. “Did you, darling?”

  “Yeah. I like Conner.” From the mouths of babes. Conner stole Annabelle’s heart as quickly as he’d reclaimed hers.

  “He’s sweet, isn’t he?” And funny. Add kind and gentle to the list, and great with kids. And knock down gorgeous, but she wasn’t going there with Annabelle.

  Annabelle’s dark head bobbed up and down against the colorful pillowcase. “Can he be my daddy?”

  Chaney sputtered, hiding it behind a cough and closed hand. Where did that come from? “Darling, you can’t just ask somebody to be your daddy.”

  A frown marred Annabelle’s ivory forehead. “Why?”

  “Because a mommy and a daddy have to fall in love first.” At least, that’s how she hoped it would work for her. She pointed to the frame next to the bed. “And your mommy probably doesn’t even remember Conner.” Chaney doubted those words even as they left her mouth. How could anyone forget Conner?

  Annabelle’s head turned sideways against the pillow to stare at the picture, a frown replacing the happy face from moments ago. “But my mommy isn’t here. I want you to be my mommy, An Chaney.”

  Chaney was Annabelle’s mother in every way except one, and sometimes, like tonight, she was tempted to accept the role officially. But she couldn’t do that without first talking with Hailey, and so far, God hadn’t opened that door.

  “If I could pick any daughter from the whole world, it would be you.” Chaney tapped Annabelle’s nose, and then leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams, darling.” She rearranged the covers and flicked off the light, one hand on the doorknob. “Love you.”

  “Love you.” Annabelle echoed their nightly routine.

  Chaney closed the bedroom door and made her way to the kitchen.

  “The princess all tucked in?” her mother asked. Carole was sitting at their small table, a cup of coffee and a stack of mail in front of her.

  “Yes.” Chaney dug around the collection of coffee pods, searching for her favorite decaf blend. She finally gave up and slid the drawer closed, nudged her rump against the counter and folded arms across her chest.

  “What was that huff for?” Carole asked, glancing over the top of her reading glasses, a piece of paper dangling from her fingertips.

  “Do you think Hailey will ever come back?”

  Her mother’s lips firmed, and she removed the spectacles with a sigh. “I don’t know, darling. I hope so. Was Annabelle asking about her again?”

  “No.” Far from it. “She wants me to be her mommy.”

  Carole nodded. “That’s understandable.”

  “And Conner to be her daddy.”

  Carole’s brows shot high on her forehead, and the glasses plunked on the table. “Uh oh!”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it. How am I supposed to respond to that?” Chaney’s arms dropped to her sides, and she sank into a chair next to her mother.

  Carole was silent. Just sipped from the mug, waiting her out, a gentle expression on her face. So much for any motherly advice.

  “You know I’d adopt Annabelle in a heartbeat if I could just talk with Hailey and make sure she never intends to assume her maternal role. I would never take that from her.” She picked up a napkin and started tearing pieces. “But, at times like this, I feel as if my life is in limbo. I can’t move forward.”

  A hand, gentle and soft, covered hers, stilling the tearing process. “That’s all God expects of us, right? To take each day as it comes and not worry about tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’ve been OK caring for Annabelle for two years, now. What’s the real issue, darling?” Her mother’s intense gaze, along with the hand that covered hers, pinned her to the chair.

  She gulped. Leave it to her mother to hone in on the meat of her discontent. “What should I do about Conner?”

  “Why do you need to do anything about him?”

  “He broke my heart when he left.” Her hand tugged free of her mother’s grasp to cover the sob that wrenched from her throat.

  “Oh, darling.” Her mother’s arm slid around Chaney’s neck, and she pressed her forehead to Chaney’s. “I know. I know.” Carole soothed.

  “He’s always held my heart
, from the first day Coach paired me up with him. How will I bear it when he leaves again?” Her voice came out on a quiver.

  Carole pulled back, tilting her head to the side. “What makes you sure that he’s leaving? Has he said so?”

  Chaney shook her head, tears collecting in her eyes. She flicked the moisture away with the back of her finger. “No, but he’s only working part time just to get the house ready to sell.”

  “Darling, he’s still here, isn’t he?”

  Chaney nodded.

  “And he’s helping your students with their recital?”

  Again, Chaney nodded. “Because I asked him.”

  “The house hasn’t gone on the market yet?”

  “Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Everything’s in boxes.”

  “Well, then, there you have it.”

  Her mother wasn’t making any sense. Her face scrunched in confusion. “Have what?”

  “Do you remember when we first discovered that Hailey left?”

  “Of course. How could I forget?” The pain that had gripped her chest while reading Hailey’s note, and then the sweet torture of taking care of baby Annabelle, wondering if Hailey would come back and claim her daughter. That hadn’t disappeared.

  “It was difficult at first. Painful, even.”

  This time she waited out her mother.

  “But then the days turned into months and taking care of Annabelle became easier, less challenging.”

  “What does that have to do with Conner?”

  “Sometimes God uses struggles and discomfort and even pain to prepare us for the good times, like with Annabelle. Can you imagine your life without that precious little one in it?”

  She huffed and shuddered. “No.”

  “But we may have to face that one day, if Hailey comes back. And we’ll get through it. Just like we did when Hailey left.” Her mother paused, her face softening. “Trust God, darling. Remember that His plan is so much greater, so much better, than we could ever imagine. And that He only wants what’s best for you and Conner.”

  A sigh lifted her chest. Her mother was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  ****

  Conner scooped up the torque wrench, humming an uplifting tune that was dancing around in his head, wishing he had his guitar to hear how it sounded. He spun the wrench around a few times, tightening the first lug nut, and then moved on to the next one, repeating the process until all of them were secure.

  He inspected the tires one last time, packed up his tools, backed the car out of the shop, and handed the key and paperwork to the manager. “That’s it for me, today. See you tomorrow, Jim.”

  “OK. Say, have you given any more consideration to going full time?” Jim’s brows, heavy and salted with more gray than coal black, arched.

  “Can’t right now. I’m working with the kids over at the skating rink, helping them practice for their recital. They need me, too.” He grinned to take the sting out of his words, but in truth, he needed that time at the skating rink more than those kids needed him.

  “Well, I won’t be able to hold off hiring someone forever.”

  “I know. I appreciate your offer, but I just can’t give you a decision yet. So I understand if you need to go with someone else.”

  Jim’s jaw firmed, but he nodded and waved.

  Conner hopped in his truck, that tune finding its way back out his throat again as the engine growled to life. When was the last time he’d felt like humming while he worked on cars? Never? A heavy sigh lifted his chest. Chaney had everything to do with the song in his heart. Her and Annabelle. Even if he hadn’t lifted a skate to the ice, he’d still be humming because of them. He backed up and pointed the truck towards home.

  Home?

  The traffic light switched to amber, and his foot tapped the brake with more force than he’d intended. The truck came to an abrupt stop.

  Home? Was that how he considered Evergreen Peak now? His dad’s house? When had his brain made the switch from temporary to permanent? Or was his heart the culprit?

  He hit the gas.

  Would he be able to stay if Chaney never returned his love? No. That would be torture.

  The only certainty in his life right now was that being back in his hometown around Chaney and Annabelle, and even Carole, had put the joy back in his heart. His life now seemed…whole. Complete.

  You make known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand. The verse he’d read that morning flitted through his head as he steered the truck into the driveway. He sat hunched over the steering wheel, staring at the house he’d grown up in.

  The front of the house faced the mountains, and his dad had insisted that the builder maximize the view with several windows. Even the single car garage had windows, all trimmed with ebony that had faded with time and the elements. Ten steps led to the front door, and the deck was the perfect size for two wicker chairs. He could picture hanging out there on Saturday mornings in the summer, lingering over coffee and watching Annabelle play in the yard. And standing in the master bedroom above the garage, his arm draped around Chaney’s shoulders, as the sun dipped beyond the mountains.

  Could life get any sweeter? Could the good memories yet to come replace the bad ones?

  Is this the path You were telling me about, God? Home?

  Peace washed over him. And joy bubbled up from his gut.

  Thank You.

  9

  The lights dimmed around the outer perimeter of the rink, and a hush fell across the crowd. The spectators, mostly family and close friends of family, all jammed into the bottom few rows of the stands closest to the center of the ice. Camera phones and video cameras pointed towards the arena.

  Nerves exploded in Chaney’s belly and tingled along her arms, but her reaction wasn’t centered on her own performance. Today was the recital and afterwards the candlelight service at church. Then, Conner had invited them over to his house. What had possessed her to schedule a recital for Christmas Eve?

  Crouching behind Annabelle, Chaney adjusted her niece’s ponytail. Satisfied, she turned Annabelle around with a gentle touch to her tiny shoulders. “You’re going to be awesome, sweetheart. Go out there and have fun with it.” She offered a reassuring smile, but Annabelle didn’t seem to need it.

  “Let’s go, Justin.” Annabelle pivoted on her skates, hovering in front of the opening to the ice, her skate tapping out an impatient rhythm.

  Little diva. Why was Chaney’s tummy all twittery? Annabelle had the right idea.

  Maybe it had something to do with the handsome guy across from her, giving a similar pep talk to Justin, Annabelle’s four-year-old skating partner. Maybe? Who was she kidding? Definitely. No question.

  Conner crouched, facing Chaney, his hands curled around Justin’s shoulders. As he whispered final instructions, Conner’s intense blue eyes honed in on the boy’s face.

  Justin’s head bobbed up and down in agreement to whatever Conner said.

  She never would have been able to prepare these kids properly without Conner’s help, but his being here was so much more than that, meant so much more to her. Working together, skating together. How could she ever go back to being their sole instructor when she enjoyed working side by side with him so much? It wouldn’t be the same.

  “Ready?” Conner’s voice floated across the opening, jarring her back to the moment.

  With arched brows, Chaney glanced at Annabelle for confirmation.

  Annabelle’s only response was to dart out on the ice.

  “I take that as a yes.” Conner chuckled, nudging Justin out after Annabelle.

  Justin and Annabelle moved into position. The music cued, and the pair flowed into their routine.

  Chaney stood up, her hands gripping the rail. An arm snaked around her shoulders, and she tore her gaze away from the pair on the ice to glance at Conner’s profile. Pride reflected from the soft lines fanning out from his eyes
.

  But it was more than pride. Something else…

  She gave her head a little shake. She didn’t have time to examine it now. Not while her niece was performing her first recital. She cuddled close to his side, drawing strength from him, as the youngsters skated in harmony, only stumbling over one element.

  Chaney barely breathed.

  Finally, the music faded and the pair bowed.

  Applause roared, and the entire mass in the stands bolted to their feet, cheering and whistling.

  Conner’s arm lifted from her shoulders to clap, and then turned towards her, excitement beaming from his face.

  Her hand covered her quivering mouth and tears welled up in her eyes. “They did it.”

  He smiled, sweet and genuine. He held out his arms, and she fell right into his embrace, her tears dampening his shirt.

  “Wow! They were fabulous!” Carole rushed over behind them, gripping two pink roses.

  Chaney pulled away from Conner’s chest, running her hand against his sweater to blot out the moisture from her tears. He didn’t let her go, though, just snugged her tight against his side, his arm around her shoulders. Oh, that she could stay cradled next to his heart forever.

  “You guys have worked wonders in such a short time.”

  “God’s the miracle worker.” Conner’s head dipped sideways, his cobalt eyes gentle and sweet, before turning back to Carole. “But He definitely gifted Chaney with tremendous talent. Annabelle, too.”

  “I did it, An Chaney!” Annabelle squealed and exited the ice, Justin right behind her.

  Chaney spared a quick hug and congratulations to both children and nudged them towards Carole. It was time for the next two skaters.

  They repeated the process five more times.

  When the last fan emptied from the rink, Conner walked them to the door and pushed it open. A chilly Colorado wind swirled her hair against her cheek. She brushed it away.