{ 9 }
“What kind of tree is that, Daddy?” Sadie asked as she skipped beside them along the trail by the river. The weather was cold but dry. Wonderfully dry. And the dog was obviously of the opinion that the more people on a walk the merrier, so he ran ahead, sniffed, peed, ran back to check on his humans, ran ahead.
“Let’s see if Erin knows,” Jared said.
She felt foolishly girlish this morning. It had been so long since she’d felt silly and romantic, but that kiss last night, that wonderful steamy kiss had changed everything.
“Um,” she stared at the tree, which looked very much like all the other trees along the path. Big, and green. “An evergreen,” she said.
Sadie burst out laughing. “They’re all evergreen, silly.”
“Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. You tell me what kind of tree it is.”
“Douglas Fir. Right, Daddy?”
“Right.”
“That’s amazing, Sadie. You are so smart,” she said, genuinely impressed. She’d seen dark green giants, usually dripping cold water and generally acting like huge depressives. Now she looked carefully she could see that the leaves and needles or whatever they were called were different. She found one that seemed to have a more feathery drooping leaf. “What’s that one?”
“Cedar,” Sadie said, looking at her as though she couldn’t be too bright.
“Western Red Cedar, that’s right,” Jared agreed. “They have different trees back east where Erin’s from,” he told his daughter as though excusing her ignorance. Great. She was dumber than a five year old.
“And what’s that one, Sadie?”
“Spruce.”
“Yep.”
The child skipped ahead, finding a stick for the dog and throwing it. The dog raced toward it and then picked it up in his mouth and looked at her as though wondering what he was supposed to do with it. Sadie ran toward him and he darted away. The game was on.
Jared came closer. “I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he said in a low voice. “If we didn’t have the little chaperone…”
She touched his arm, “I know,” she said. It was all she could manage. She was such a mess of emotions. Excitement, fear, and the gnawing knowledge that she was defective. A woman in her prime child bearing years who would never bear a child.
They were silent for a minute or two watching as Sadie would chase the dog and the dog would dance away and then come closer, the stick protruding from his mouth like a cigar.
“How would you like to go on a date?” Jared suddenly asked.
“A date?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of date?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t done this for a few years. Dinner? Maybe a movie?”
“They show movies here?”
“Sure. Don’t diss Kaslo. We had Gone with the Wind last month. We’re hoping to get Star Wars any day now.”
She chuckled. “I would love to go on a date with you.”
“Great. How’s tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“I know. Short notice. It’s a single parent thing. Sadie’s invited for a sleep over tonight at a friend’s.” She grinned at her. “I wouldn’t have to rush back.”
The possibility hung in the air for a second, then she nodded. “I’d like that.”
{ ♥ ♥ ♥ }
For dinner he took her to a tiny inn outside of town, explaining that they only put on dinner Friday and Saturday nights. And the dinner was spectacular. The inn was one of those quaint little places where the rooms had names instead of numbers. The outside twinkled with Christmas lights and inside a huge real tree dominated the foyer. “Spruce,” she informed him as they walked past.
He patted her shoulder. “You learn fast.”
There was no choice for dinner, which he’d explained earlier. It was oddly relaxing not trying to make conversation while reading a menu and deciding what to order. He chose a wine and then they were free to talk.
And talk they did. About careers and dreams, old ones and new ones, about Christmases past. And while they talked they ate the delicious food put in front of them: soup from local potatoes, lamb with the most amazing sauce, chocolate soufflé for dessert. He made her laugh with stories of his nonmechanical father trying to put together toys on Christmas Eve. “I’d hear him from my bedroom, cursing and banging things. I always wanted to get up and help him. I’m way more handy than he ever was.”
She laughed, picturing him as a boy in that room Sadie now occupied. “Did you ever go down and help him?”
“No. But I always rebuilt the thing after Christmas. He never knew.”
“I always loved the anticipation. Would I get what I’d asked for? Had I been a good enough girl?”
He leaned forward suddenly, his gaze intense. “You know what I want for Christmas?”
She shook her head, her heart suddenly pounding and a feeling of anticipation curling in her belly.
“I want you.”
She closed her eyes and let that feeling of simply being wanted wash over her. “Yes,” she whispered before she’d even opened her eyes. “Yes.”
“They have rooms available here.”
Her eyes flew open. “They do?”
He nodded.
Her jaw dropped. “So that’s why you brought the dog.” He’d been so insistent and vocal that he did not want to be left in the cottage alone that Jared had piled him into the truck telling him he’d have to guard the truck while they were at dinner.
“Not the only reason.”
She bit her lip. Nodded. “I don’t even have a toothbrush.”
“I’m sure the hotel can provide one.”
“Or a nightie.”
“That you won’t need.”
When they got to their room, it was like something out of a fairy tale. All sloping ceilings and chintz décor with a bed that dominated the room.
While Jared settled the dog in front of the fireplace and lit the fire log that came with the room, she excused herself into the bathroom and washed up.
She brushed her teeth, drank some water wishing it would drown the butterflies doing acrobatics in her belly. When she opened the door, he was there. Waiting.
He walked toward her, said her name softly, and pulled her into his arms.