Snowdrop in a Storm Page 3
In their lives, really.
THE WEEK HAD been a little overwhelming for Daniel. He’d learned as much about the chess tournament as the kids had, and felt a whole lot more prepared for the summer competitions. Still, at the end of the day, it was exhausting. Jeff seemed to enjoy the whole thing, though, and Daniel curled up next to him at night, counting the days until he and Abby could set their plan into motion.
He’d been aiming for the weekend break. Saturday, however, instead of the lazing they’d wanted to do, they all got roped into another trip to the slopes. Daniel couldn’t stay behind, and could give no reason other than something worrisome, like a health issue, which would have kept Jeff behind as well.
It had to be Sunday.
In an amazing stroke of luck and brilliant thinking, Abby managed to start a snowball fight soon after breakfast. Curiously, it was Nick who threw the first metaphorical punch by shoving snow in Leon’s face. It escalated quickly, and Daniel took advantage of the chaos to sneak to the store.
By the time he made it back and had safely hidden the supplies, the snow fight had drawn everyone in the pension, kids and adults alike. There were camps and generals and a few snowmen soldiers as well.
They broke for lunch, after which, drained and warm and content, the masses retreated for naps. Brilliant idea through and through; Daniel would have to get Abby an extra present on her birthday.
Jeff was snoring lightly when Daniel went to get her from her bunk. She was a bit sleepy, but adamant to help, and besides, Daniel didn’t want to do this without her.
The kitchen was deserted, and Daniel first grabbed them hot chocolate from the machine in the lobby. They sipped their drinks while double-checking they had all the ingredients on the list before starting.
Just as Daniel was about to crack the first egg, the door opened, and Nick strolled in.
“Here I am,” he said, as if he’d been expected.
Daniel side-eyed Abby. There it was, that shiftiness in her posture as she set her phone on the counter and pursed her lips. “What did you do?” he asked her slowly. Daniel turned to her in time to see her lift her chin, but the subsequent staring contest didn’t last long.
“He knows,” she said quickly, “and he wants to help and the fight was his idea and he knows exactly how Daddy makes the cake!”
She was a little breathless at the end there, and it made Daniel smile. Well, if this little girl he loved so much trusted Nick, so could he. He winked at her as warmly as possible.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
The recipe wasn’t hard to follow, but Nick took the sheet they’d printed it out on and scribbled modifications. He was as helpful as he could be without taking over completely. The batter went into three pans instead of one, at his behest, and they waited for it to bake while listening to Abby’s vision of the future wedding. Maybe they should get married on Halloween to save them the trouble of cleaning fake spiderwebs twice. Nick barely said anything.
Not until the oven pinged. That was when he insisted on not waiting for the cake to cool all the way.
“You know why the cake Jeff makes seems to melt and falls apart before it’s done?” he asked them, mostly Abby. “Well, because the first time we made it, we didn’t wait. Everything was a hot mess.”
From where she was sitting on the chair next to the counter, Abby leaned in. “Really?”
“Yep,” Nick said. “We were at Grams—you remember Grams, don’t you?” Abby nodded, so he continued. “Okay, the story starts before that. When we were kids, I was always there at Grams with your mom and your—Jeff. Three musketeers and whatnot. But one day, Grams comes home to find us eating sugar out of the jar, and she huffs and tells your mom she needs to learn to cook.”
He poked at one of the pans then, checking to see if the contents were ready to come loose. He laughed a bit, and it sounded like it hurt, but Abby didn’t catch it, thankfully. Daniel’s throat, though, was dry.
“You know what dear Lauren did then?” A headshake. “She crossed her arms like you do, looked Grams in the eyes, and said, Why should only girls cook? Teach the boys, too. In the end, it was only Jeff and me who ever learned how. She never touched one spoon. As a matter of principle.”
“Whoa,” Abby whispered. “Mommy was a badass.”
Daniel startled. “Abby! Where did you learn that?”
“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Nick said.
His gaze fell, the amusement on his face dropped, and only then did Daniel realize that for the past hour, Nick had been interacting with him as naturally as possible. As he watched Nick painstakingly remove each sheet of baked cake from its pan, it dawned on him that perhaps the reason Nick was so distant wasn’t because of Daniel, but because of guilt.
On the counter, the three layers sat in a row of slightly misshapen rectangles.
Without a word, Nick grabbed a knife and started cutting off corners until they resembled disks. Abby looked distressed when Daniel met her eyes from Nick’s other side, as if she didn’t know how to process the sudden change. He moved closer, draped his arm across Nick’s back, and squeezed his shoulder.
“Thank you for helping,” he said.
Nick’s head jerked with a nod, and he was blinking really fast, too fast, so Daniel pulled him tighter against his side.
“Really, Nick. Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Abby added.
Whatever else any of them were about to say was interrupted by noise in the hallway.
“Have you seen Daniel?” Jeff’s voice drifted through.
They jumped apart, Daniel scrambling to find an excuse, when Nick caught his arm.
“Go,” he said. “Keep him busy. We’ll finish here.”
His indecision must’ve shown, because Abby jumped off the chair and pushed him toward the door. “Go, I know what it needs to say.”
Daniel took a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He pulled the box from his pocket, handed it over. “Here, make sure he can find it quickly.”
“Yes, Daniel,” came in unison as he sneaked out of the kitchen.
IT WASN’T DIFFICULT to distract Jeff, especially because Jeff wanted them to step outside to watch the sunset together. The reddish glow lit up the peaks, blanketing the white-topped forests, and they held hands taking it in from one of the benches that dotted the roads of the resort. It didn’t last long, but Daniel’s chest was full of warmth by the end of it. He stole a kiss, got another for free, and then his phone pinged.
Go get dinner together, we have it under control here. From Nick.
Jeff wasn’t hard to convince.
Some Kasspatzln and a couple of beers later—because one couldn’t travel to Tyrol without trying at least one of the local dishes—they made their slow way through the resort, lingering among the snow-covered buildings. The sky was clear, the air crisp, and Daniel dragged his feet not only because he wanted to get back after the kids were in bed, but because it felt like a good buildup to the surprise in the room. Together, enjoying the evening in silence, much like how they’d started two years back.
“I didn’t realize it’d gotten this late,” Jeff whispered as they entered their room.
Daniel shrugged. He couldn’t trust his voice, not yet. He inhaled deeply as they shed their coats and boots, steeled himself in front of the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands.
He beelined to the small fridge in the corner before Jeff could get there, opened the door—
And dropped his knees to the floor in surprise.
On top of the melting monstrosity that was Jeff and Abby’s favorite cake sat a large flower, the ring nestled in its center, amidst pointy petals of red frosting. The words Marry Me surrounded it along the rim. A note was stuck to the plate. We couldn’t help ourselves. Good luck, Abby & Nick.
He huffed a laugh.
“What?” Jeff asked.
And Daniel… He couldn’t really breathe. He withdrew the cake, and turned around, pulled one knee up.
Jeff was two steps away, and kept gaping. Kept staring, unblinking.
“So?” Daniel prompted, voice cracking with the words. “Will you marry me?”
He’d never seen Jeff move so fast. He almost upended the cake on Daniel as he skidded to a halt, right there on the floor in front of him.
“Yes, yes. Definitely, yes!”
Daniel’s face split into a grin so wide, it hurt.
NICK WAITED, LEANING a shoulder against the doorjamb. Across the hall, Abby stepped away from the closed door of Daniel and Jeff’s room, skittered into Nick’s, and as soon as she was inside, she whisper-shrieked, “He said yes!”
“Yay,” Leon grunted from under the covers. “Now go celebrate somewhere else.”
It was late, and Abby should have been in bed, but she was thrumming with excitement. Half an hour to wind her down wouldn’t hurt.
“I’m taking your coat,” Nick told Leon, right before he gave his to Abby. “Let’s go get some tea, yeah?”
She couldn’t stop giggling, and it was adorable. He took a couple of photos when she wasn’t paying attention as they waited for their tea to steep, mostly for Jeff and Daniel, to see her joy.
They ended up on the low bench lining the porch of the center building. The light from the windows stretched in elongated shapes across the driveway, making the snow sparkle against the dark. She looked so delighted he felt it by proximity alone. Abby managed to take a sip before another cackle took over.
“I’m happy,” she said, breathless. “Are you?”
It was such a simple question and such a simple curiosity behind it, but it still choked him. He rubbed the top of her head.
“Yeah, kid. I’m happy. Your dad is lucky.”
She leaned into him.
And—
And in his chest, something came loose. He felt free, all of a sudden, unburdened, uncoiled.
“I know I’m not your dad, kid, but I’m here. Whenever, whatever you need, I’ll be here for you. Not gonna disappear again.”
He wasn’t her father—that was the whole point. He kept telling himself that, yet he hadn’t really believed it, not until then. She might’ve been his child, but she wasn’t his daughter, and that was okay.
Abby hugged him in reply.
Later, as he got in bed, he would’ve cried. Leon was there, though, latching onto him like a human cephalopod, and Nick let the sensation of safety that came with it drag him to sleep, to dreams of a future in which the world didn’t seem intent on flaying him raw.
MONDAY WAS THE last day of the tournament. Abby, of course, was one of the four finalists announced in the morning. Amber scurried her away to prepare for the afternoon games, and Daniel rounded the other kids up in the main hall to write home. Where he’d produced a stack of postcards was beyond Nick, but he filled in one of his own that showed the peaks visible through the windows, before stepping out.
That was how he ended up next to Jeff, kicking at the snow as they walked along the tree line.
“Daniel told me what you did.”
Nick didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t say anything. Judging by the tone, it wasn’t a reproach. He turned, instead, a few steps between the trees, and leaned on a trunk to watch the canopy. Green pine needles under the snow. Soft and fluffy on the outside, prickly on the inside.
“I hated you so much back then.”
Jeff’s voice sounded heavy. His footsteps, too, as he approached. Nick expected him to stand there, or lean against the same tree, but Jeff grabbed a handful of his coat.
Right over his heart.
Nick blinked at his white knuckles.
“I don’t think I can forgive you.”
His stomach flipped painfully, and it was quiet for a moment, some sort of stillness permeating the space between them. And then, suddenly—
“Not yet.”
He heard it more than felt it, the crunch of snow under his boot, the shift of fabric as Jeff pulled, hard. He stumbled forward into tightening arms, and he couldn’t do anything other than clutch back.
“But I’m gonna try,” Jeff whispered close to his ear. “I’m happy you’re back and that you’re alive. I’m gonna try.”
Nick closed his eyes and buried his face in Jeff’s scarf.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO you?” Leon’s concern was obvious, and Nick waved it off.
“Family stuff. Emotions are dangerous.”
That earned him a grin. And then it faltered. “I know it’s supposed to be a secret, but if they don’t say something soon, I’m gonna spill the beans to Sara. Can’t ever hide anything from her. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. Lauren couldn’t keep anything from her brother either.
At that moment, though, he wasn’t in the mood for more forays into the past, and he changed the subject.
“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing the dance of the unvictorious? Why are you so chipper?”
“I’m about to climb in bed with you; what’s there to be sad about?”
By then, Nick had developed somewhat of a thick skin against all the flirting. Still, somehow, his face heated.
“Do you ever stop?”
Leon did pause, then, and looked at him with interest. “Do you want me to?”
If he was honest with himself—and Nick couldn’t afford not to be—he didn’t. Not really.
“No,” he said, offering a smile. It felt like a choice.
“Wait, is Abby upset she came in third?”
“Not at all. I think she was just happy to have been chosen. She’s pretty new to all of this.”
Leon laughed, and that sound was already so familiar to Nick it sent a shiver down his spine. “Man, Jeff must be so proud. If I ever have kids someday, I hope they end up like her.”
Nick lay down, feeling slightly nauseous, and he wondered if he’d eaten something bad as he wrapped an arm around Leon’s shoulders.
CHRISTMAS EVE PASSED like a whirlwind. The staff had prepared a presentation on Krampus and then gave the kids an assortment of chocolates and chocolate figurines, just enough to have them jittery during the afternoon. And that was when true chaos really started, because they had another competition on their hands: the wreath. There were a lot of children who already knew about it from previous trips, and their excitement spread like the plague.
As far as Nick could understand, each team was supposed to build a popcorn wreath. Whichever was the longest and most colorful won the honor of being draped in the dining hall. The rules were simple. They could use food paints and as many bags of microwaved popcorn as they pleased, as well as any other small objects they wanted. But there still had to be at least three kernels for each of whatever other things were shoved through the string.
It wasn’t enough, it seemed, because at some point during the general disorder, one of the kids climbed a table and yelled, at the top of her lungs, that they should tie all the wreaths together so that they’d all be winners.
The day had been fun but exhausting, and around eight, Nick felt like he could sleep for a week. Jeff caught him, though, right after they called lights out to their kids, and dragged him back to the dining room.
A few other adults occupied some of the tables, talking quietly. Nick’s group was seated at the one they’d been using, with the cake in the middle and a tray of steaming drinks.
“I guess by now, you all know why we’re here,” Daniel said while Jeff handed out the mugs. The ring on his finger glinted as he moved.
Scents of spice and cinnamon wafted from the hot wine, mixing with the sweet notes of the cake.
Amber let out a cheerful “Woo-hoo,” sotto voce, so as not to disturb the peace of the space. It sent the message across anyway.
“Hear, hear,” Sara said, and they all raised their drinks.
Congratulations tumbled from everyone. Some te
asing, too, and a few questions about the wedding.
“What I really want to know,” Leon said at last, pointing at the cake, “is why there’s a piece missing?”
“Abby had it,” Daniel said. “There isn’t enough cake for all the children, and we didn’t want to dangle it in front of everyone.”
“She would’ve been here with us, but she’s all tuckered out,” Jeff added. “Who wants a piece?”
Cake dished out and mugs half empty, the voices at their table remained subdued but no less cheery. At some point, Nick lost track of the conversations and sat back to just listen to the noise. That was until Daniel switched seats with Jeff and leaned into his space, gaze intent.
Nick swallowed and held his eyes even though it felt like he might burn right through.
Daniel nodded, once, as if to himself, and squeezed Nick’s arm briefly. It wasn’t enough, still not enough. Nick had to say something, to avoid any misunderstandings. He stood and guided Daniel away from the table. None of the others was paying them any attention, and Nick took a breath.
“When I said I didn’t get it,” he explained quietly, “about you and Jeff, it’s not what you think.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, questioning.
“It wasn’t because you’re a guy and Jeff’s a guy— No, actually, at the time it was, but that wasn’t the real issue.”
Nick rubbed at his forehead. He’d had months to untangle that mess, even booked a couple of sessions with a counselor so he could have a sounding board. Thankfully, Daniel waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
“The real issue,” Nick repeated— The real issue was him and him alone. He sighed, bit the bullet, and swallowed it whole. “I guess deep down I was expecting Jeff to have a me-shaped hole in his life. Instead, he was happy with you, and I felt robbed. They were my best friends. I had Lauren on one side, Jeff on the other, and you’d taken the last crutch I had left.”