Page 54 of Living La Vida Mocha

Beyond the skate shack, stood a dark and lone tree, taller than any I’d ever seen before; it would put the one in New York City to shame. Beyond that, almost surrounding it in a semi-circle, were trees half the size of the big one, all decorated with coloured lights. A group of carollers dressed in matching robes stood singing near the skate shack, and three food trucks were parked near the huge bonfire surrounded by hay bales.

He reached for my hand. “Ever since the moment your credit card wouldn’t work, I’ve wanted to hold your hand, and I don’t intend on letting go.”

“Since then? Wow. That’s a long time to hold out.”

“Some things are worth waiting for.”

“And sometimes,” I said, cocking my eyebrow, “all that’s needed is a grocery worker intent on showing off at precisely the right moment to give a little push toward the goal.”

Carter didn’t look impressed. “Or that.” He tugged me toward the ice rink. “Let’s not talk about him, okay?”

We stopped in front of the skate shack and gave our skate sizes to the guy, and then silently meandered over to the hay bales edging the ice.

It had been years since I’d slipped on skates, and I’d forgotten how much I hated tying the laces and tightening the boot way up past my ankle. Why couldn’t they make skates easier to put on?

“Let me do this for you.” He grabbed my left foot, and tugged the laces into compliance, doing the same with the right until they were both snug but not tight.

Whereas Carter popped up onto his skates, I slowly rose and wobbled like a newborn deer. Then came the horrible attempt at moving on the slick surface. He skated; I shuffled like a toddler on skates for the first time. However, as the old adage goes, it was like riding a bike and after a bit, I finally got the hang of it, sort of, at least I was able to step glide and not skitter around.

Effortlessly, he skated backward while keeping his hands just near enough to reach out to grab me if I fell. It turned out, I was more stable without holding his hand. And as much as I didn’t want to, I worried what would happen ifhefell, which was the exact thing he had worried about in sharing his diagnosis. Would a fall, or a bump to the head, cause him to have a seizure? However, watching him become an extension of the ice took my mind off worrying. As far as skating went, he was more Canadian than I was.

But twenty minutes on the blades of torture was enough to wear me out physically and send a deep ache through muscles I didn’t know existed. However, I was now warm, and sweaty, for an entirely different reason.

“Want to sit around the fire?” I asked, falling with a solid thump onto the unforgiving hay bale. My aching tailbone was going to berate me for hours after that.

“That idea has a whole latte potential.”

I wanted to throw a pun back in his direction, but he used the word I had prepped for just the right moment. Scrolling through my brain, I conjured up another word. “You mocha me laugh.”

With a giant smile, he fell beside me untying his skates and setting them off to the side after slipping his boots back on.

Freeing my hands from the warmth of my mittens, I started loosening the laces, wondering how long it would take before I lost feeling in my fingertips. It was cold enough my breath created giant puffs of white, breezy clouds.

“Please, allow me.” Before I could go any further, he propped my foot onto his lap and untied the laces, tugging and pulling which allowed cold air to strangle my ankle.

I shivered uncontrollably.

“You’re freezing.”

“That’s why I want to sit around the fire.”

“Only the second-best activity here.”

I leaned back onto my palms. “You’re really hyping up this whole tree lighting thing. It can’t be that amazing, can it?”

“You’ll see.”

Under the glow from the overhead string lights, it wasn’t hard to miss the building twinkle in his eyes, the one I’d always been drawn to in my younger years. It was sweet to see it slowly returning.

He gave the underside of my foot a gentle massage when it was free of the skate, and until he touched me there, I didn’t know that part of my foot ached so much.

I groaned and lightly closed my eyes to the rolling sensation against the balls of my feet and into the arch. “Oh, my, that feels heavenly.”

“Easy there.” His head was tipped down, but he turned to look at me through his left eye.

Reaching over my lap, he grabbed my boot and after another amazing massage, slipped it overtop my foot.

I set my foot down and instantly propped up the other.