Outside, my mom stands and pulls off her gloves. She places her hands at her lower back and stretches, catching us gawking at her from the window. Her eyes widen in surprise and then she nods, a small, barely-there grin on her face at being caught working in my gardens.
“She’s not an easy woman to love. Never has been, and yet I also know that once she opens that door, it’s a gentle, quiet, steadfast love she provides. She gives stability and loyalty and in an era when everyone bases love on feelings and commitment, and well, she’s a special woman once you get to that part of her.”
I think I understand her now more than I ever did and yet that pain is still there. “I wish I would have known all this before. It would have been helpful instead of growing up thinking I was a nuisance.”
He settles his arm across my back, hand at my shoulder. His grip is warm but timid. Probably because he never does this. “And that is our mistake we will continue to work to rectify, but I do want you to know I’m proud of you, of this life you built. You can do anything you set your mind to, Jillian, even fix whatever you messed up with Klaus.” He gives me a soft kiss on my temple and then walks away, opens the door for my mom, and as she kicks off my sandals and brushes hair off her face, he does the same to her, asking her if he can get her coffee.
It’s beautiful and sweet and quiet and I allow the love my parents have for each other and so rarely shown to warm me to my soul along with Dad’s words.
I have their approval.
And once I do what my dad says and fix things, I’ll have Klaus.
I’ll have everything I’ve always wanted.
“I thought it’d be cooler in here,” my mom says. She’s still wearing thin gloves, rubbing her hands together as we take our seats. “What with all the ice and all.”
She goes down the aisle first, my dad following and me bringing up the rear. The tagboard sign I’m holding shakes in my hands and has nothing to do with how wobbly it is.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I’m going to make a complete spectacle of myself. And yet, if I don’t go all in and show Klaus how much I truly love him, I’m afraid he might not believe me.
“Nervous?” my dad asks, brushing wrinkles off his pants as he sits. “I can go get you a drink.”
Funny, how this was actually his idea. At least part of it.
And I never imagined my mom would sip Prosecco with me, coloring in block letters with glitter pens in my kitchen.
That’s exactly what happened this morning after we finished breakfast.
I’m working on trusting what I’m learning about her, and in doing so, a light has dawned.
She’s always been quiet and steadfast, exactly what my dad said. As a little girl and teenager, I took it to mean she didn’t care.
She does, but in her own way. She might not be outgoing in her love, and she might not be the most expressive woman with her emotions, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them.
She shows them quietly. And today, she did the same, when I nervously brought up my idea to fix things with Klaus.
She even came with me to the craft store where I bought supplies.
Then we came home and she spread everything out on the kitchen island. My dad went to the living room, whiskey on ice in his hand and remote in his other to turn on a golf tournament, leaving us to our drinks and glitter.
It continues to surprise me how much fun I’ve had with them this weekend.
How quickly things are changing. I’m under no illusions we’ll be the perfect family, but we’ve come a long way in a short amount of time.
It’s enough of a reason to celebrate, but now I want it all.
Seated, my knee bounces wildly and inside my own thin gloves, my hands grow clammy.
My dad’s hand lands on my leg, settling me.
“Calm. You’ll be fine.”
I can’t help it. I’m about to make a major fool of myself. Fortunately, the arena is mostly empty. We’re here early in part to the parking spot I have along with my tickets so I don’t have to wait in the long row of cars stuck in traffic for general parking. Also because I planned it this way.
I might be ready to act a fool, but I’m not going to do it with a stadium filled with approximately twenty-thousand strangers watching.
I wait, anticipating the moment the Ice Kings will take the ice for their pre-game warm-up skate. They always come out in the same way, by line, which means as soon as I see Jason Taylor, team captain, appear in the doorway that leads from the ice and their bench to their locker room, I stand on trembling legs and shaking ankles and hurry down to the ice level seats. Thank goodness the section where I’m sitting is still empty. It gives me space, and a meager amount of privacy.
As the guys hit the ice to the quiet cheers and claps of fans already seated, thousands getting their pregame drinks and snacks, my heart races like a herd of wild horses, thundering along the beaches of the Outer Banks.
This is it.
Oh God, I might puke.
Jason leads the team in one giant, slow lap around the ice and as he reaches my side of the rink, his eyes flash and then he grins. I’m never down here, always in my seats, so I know I’ve surprised him.
But then I see Klaus, taking to the ice on the far side, and the cheers of the crowd all fall away to the pounding in my heart.
This is it. I keep my gaze on Klaus, trying to get his attention. I see the exact moment he glances up to my seats he probably expects to be empty and his mouth opens in surprise. If I were to turn around, I’d see my parents, probably sitting stoically, perhaps lifting a hand, but Klaus’s gaze darts down the line and then straight to me as he reaches the corner of the ice nearest me.
And I lift my sign.
My stupid, girly, and basic tagboard sign that reads in blue and teal lettering like their jerseys.
I’m really sorry.
I love you.
Ice sprays from the sudden stop of his skates. He halts directly in front of me, hand going to his chin guard strap, and he tears it away, ripping off his helmet faster than I’ve seen him do when he gets in fights during games.
Behind him, Duke makes a quick adjustment so he doesn’t run smack into him and Klaus comes my way.
Right to the boards. Directly across the glass from me.
He bangs on the glass with his stick, like I haven’t already been staring at him, waiting for his reaction.
“You love me?” I can barely hear him shouting.
I nod, knowing he can’t hear it back but like the fool he is, grinning like a maniac, he holds his hand to his ear and shouts, “What?”
“Yes! Yes, I love you.”
Tears fall down my cheeks. His smile is infectious, better than anything I’ve seen in months. Maybe years.
Klaus’s lips press together, firm and so sexy I wish there wasn’t a thick wall of shatterproof plexiglass between us.
Instead, he places his hand on the glass.
I do the same.
“We’ll talk. After the game.”
For a moment, my bravery falters, but then he licks his lips. Dropping his gloves and his stick to the ice, he points to himself and mouths the word I. Makes a heart with his hands and says love and then points to me.
And I swear the point is filled with burning hot flames that shoot straight to my own heart. “You,” he mouths and my world erupts at the same time it finally comes together.