Christmas at Holiday House - RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,56
Joey to the skate park when she was tending me once. Marta and me just watched. Joey said how fun it was to catch air with his skateboard. It looked cool.”
Abby was going to have her hands full with Christopher when he grew up a bit. Ethan tugged the pom-pom on the boy’s beanie. “I don’t think we’ll be doing any ollies or alley-oops in inner tubes. But since you like this so much, you really should try skiing or snowboarding while you’re here.”
“He’s only five,” Abby protested. “Maybe he should wait until he’s a little older.”
“How old were you when you started skiing?” Christopher asked.
“My granddad Clive took me when I was around your age. By the time I was in middle school, I was a snowboarder all the way. I moved around a lot when I was young, but no matter where I was, every winter I tried to come back here as much as possible so I could board with my buddies like José and a few others in town. Then I finished out high school here in Silver Bells, living with my grandmother. I still enjoy boarding but I’ve gone back to skis the past few years, I guess just to mix things up.”
“Do you come up here to the mountain often?” Abby asked.
“Not as often as I should. I used to try to make a few runs after work a couple nights a week, but so far this season I’ve been so busy I’ve only gone once since we opened before Thanksgiving.”
It was a shame, really. Clive would have been disappointed in him. His grandfather used to go just about every Saturday of the ski season.
“What about you?” he asked Abby. “Want to give it a try?”
She snorted a little. “I can barely handle a tubing hill. How would I take a ski lift?”
He wished he could figure out some way to help her overcome her fear of heights.
“You’ve done fine tonight. Better than fine. If I’m not mistaken, I think you’ve even enjoyed it a little.”
“I have,” she admitted. “It still takes me effort to face the hill each time, but the moment I start down, I’m glad I did it.”
She was facing her fears, one tubing run at a time. He had to admire her courage.
“You really should try skiing, at least once. It’s the same rush as tubing, only magnified.”
She didn’t look convinced, but they had reached the top of the moving sidewalk lift and had to step off.
“We’re going on the fastest one this time,” Christopher informed Becky at the top.
“Good for you! Hang on and have fun.”
The run was fast and fun. Christopher shrieked the whole way with excitement and even Abby let out a cry, though Ethan couldn’t tell whether it was terror or enjoyment.
“That was the best. Can we go again?”
If Christopher had his way, Ethan suspected he would want to tube all night. Abby was beginning to droop, though. He could see it in the fine lines of exhaustion around her mouth.
Poor thing. He knew she had been working hard for days, helping his grandmother.
“Last run,” she said.
“Aww. I want to keep going.”
“It’s already past your bedtime. One more time up and down again and then home. We have another big day tomorrow.”
Christopher was clearly not happy at having to end for the night. Still, he didn’t whine or fret, which Ethan admired.
“Can we go down the fast one again?” Christopher asked.
Abby gave an almost imperceptible sigh, clearly not looking forward to it.
“How about I take Christopher and you can sit this one out by the fire.”
She seized on the suggestion with gratitude in her eyes that made him feel about as tall as the ski lift towers.
“I’ll do that.”
“Watch me, though. Okay, Mommy?”
“You got it, bud. I’ll watch the whole time.”
On the way up, Christopher slipped his mitten into Ethan’s hand and chattered away about his friends back home and his cat Mr. Jingles and a time he went to Disneyland with his mom and they rode every ride.
Ethan was aware of a weird tenderness in his throat, an overwhelming humbleness that this sweet boy trusted him to keep him safe.
He wanted a family.
Was it possible he could be a parent and not completely screw it up like his own father had? He had no idea, he only knew that he longed to build a warm, supportive family unit, the kind he had never had.
He would remember this night always. The cold night air, the red