From the Top

by Dani Collins

  What if she simply wasn’t good enough?

  Nate came outside. “Snowman’s union on strike?”

  “For better conditions. This snow’s like baby powder.” She clapped it between her hands and the ice crystals poofed into a cloud, like fairy dust.

  He nodded approval at her pun, then whistled for Murphy who was wandering into the shadows near the trees. “We gotta go, Son. It’s nearly bedtime.”

  “Look at the stars,” Aiden said.

  Ilke tilted her head back. Even with the light over the porch of the trailer, the sky was a dazzling array of twinkles.

  “That’s a lotta wishes,” Aiden said.

  Ilke chuckled, then nodded, chest tight. She had only ever had one wish and look how it had turned out. What did that say about the odds for the new ones beginning to sparkle inside her? They were even more light-years away, same as the first.

  Weren’t they?

  She trailed behind Nate and Aiden and settled in behind Nate’s strong back. She wrapped her arms around Nate’s waist while he got Aiden’s mask into place again, settling her cheek between his shoulder blades, needing the contact right now.

  Before he started the sled, he picked up her hand and set a small kiss in the bit of inner wrist exposed between her sleeve and glove, as if he sensed her struggle and wanted to console her.

  His tender gesture made her torment that much worse.

  *

  Aiden had been too young to sit through movies when Nate and Wanda had still been married. It was something Nate usually did alone with him, unless they were visiting family in Sacramento—then it was a swarm.

  When it came to dating, Nate had never introduced a romantic interest to Aiden. The females Aiden saw in his father’s life were exactly like the males—co-workers at the lodge, like Glory and Devon. They didn’t go places with him and his son.

  Ilke understood and respected his desire to protect Aiden, which Nate appreciated.

  Nevertheless, as he’d been walking by her door last night, his fist had reached to knock all by itself while the words, “Let’s see if Ilke wants to come,” had slipped from his lips.

  It was the damnedest thing, but he wanted to share his son with her. He was so friggin’ proud of his kid. He would do anything to protect him, but he wanted her to see what a great person he was. How much potential he had. How he was funny and inquisitive and opinionated.

  He wanted his son to know Ilke and like her and feel as good around her as Nate did.

  As if she was sticking around and they had some kind of future.

  Highly unlikely, if Aiden kept kicking her seat.

  The day had gone well with lunch and a bit of shopping before the movie. The cartoon itself was par for the course, the atmosphere as chaotic as any theater full of young families. At least he’d been able to set his arm along the back of Aiden’s seat and tuck his hand against Ilke’s warm neck. She had smiled at him while sharing her popcorn with Aiden, taking in stride their disappearance mid-movie, when Nate took Aiden to the bathroom.

  “Son,” Nate warned.

  “So-reee,” Aiden said in a sing-song.

  Nate had already explained to Ilke that Aiden didn’t realize he was growing. He had already told the boy to drop his boots and telling the kid to sit still was a losing battle. He didn’t know what else to do.

  “Can I stay with you tonight?” Aiden asked.

  Here it comes. Nate wasn’t the fun parent on purpose, but his agreement with Wanda was one night a week and just about any stretch of days he was able to book off, which was invariably the holidays. That wouldn’t work in a few years, when Aiden was in school and couldn’t fly to Sacramento at the drop of a hat, but for now it gave Nate the flexibility he needed.

  The flip side was, he liked to maximize the time he did have with his son. Sometimes they got a hotel room so they could play at the aquatic center or go to the indoor jungle gym or play mini-golf. Even when they hung around the lodge, Nate kept him busy. They fished, went out on the ATVs in the summer, the sleds in the winter. They tobogganed and, soon as he got a lift installed, they would start snowboarding together.

  Hell, if it was up to him, he’d have his kid full-time, but such was life. “I have work and you have school tomorrow, Son.”

  “I don’t wanna go to school.” His voice veered a few notches toward a whine.

  “Right on time,” Nate said, pointing out the sign that proclaimed, Haven, six miles.

  “Really?” Ilke asked.

  “Every time. What’s wrong with school, Son? You get to play with your friends. That’s fun, right? How’s Zuzu? What about Ryker and Will? You like to play with them, don’t you?”

  “Will is a bugger.”

  Ilke choked and shot a wide-eyed look at Nate.

  “Where did you hear that word? You can’t call people that, Aiden.”

  “Why? He bugs me.”

  Ilke cupped her hand over her mouth, snorting behind it.

  “Okay, but don’t call him that. It’s not a nice word.”

  “How come?”

  “It’s just not—Would you stop?” He prodded Ilke, who was making noises in her throat like a wounded animal. His own voice was strained.

  “Will always says I have to sit by him in circle time, but I like to sit by Zuzu. Pleeeeze can I stay with you tonight?”

  How kids found that exact pitch, like nails on a chalkboard, Nate would never fully understand, but Aiden was a master at it. It drained all the humor out of him.

  “Son—”

  “What’s circle time?” Ilke asked.

  Aiden explained about attendance and looking at the calendar and noting the weather.

  Ilke had a bunch more questions about what he did at school. She told him some things about growing up in Sweden and somehow they made it the rest of the drive without the usual escalation.

  “Thanks,” Nate said when he pulled into Wanda’s driveway.

  “For what?” Ilke asked, genuinely not aware of the distraction she had provided.

  Her conversation with Aiden had been exactly that. They’d been learning about each other and Nate was soft as three-ply bathroom tissue because he found that insanely sweet.

  Aiden remembered that they were coming in. Rather than kick up about not going to the lodge, he was excited for some promised Lego building with Daddy.

  Nate went around and helped Aiden back into his boots, then set him on his feet to scramble around the truck and in through the gate.

  “Were you thanking me for this? Coming to dinner?” Ilke asked in an undertone, glancing at the windows overlooking the drive. “I don’t mind.” Her expression was wary, though.

  She had every right to be. This was really fucking weird.

  Small effing town, though, because Ilke had said she liked Frankie and wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

  Wanda was urging Aiden up the stairs when they got to the back door. “Tell Frankie our guests are here.” Wanda held the door wide for them to enter, then offered a hand to Ilke. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Of course. And please let me tell you how sorry I am about your loss. Frankie wouldn’t normally share anything about a patient, but—”

  Nate could see Ilke retreating fast into her blonde bomb-shelter.

  “Appreciated,” Nate said, taking Ilke’s coat and inserting himself between the two women long enough to give Ilke a chance for a bracing breath. He sent a light hand down her back as soon as he had one free.

  You’re not alone here.

  Frankie came downstairs with Aiden. She greeted Ilke warmly and poured drinks. Nate stuck with a coffee since he was driving and had to finish some work later. Ilke had a glass of wine with the women, even though she was mostly abstaining now she was getting serious about her workouts. He was really going to owe her for this.

  They all moved into the living room where Nate stretched out on the floor with Aiden and the tub of buil
ding bricks. Frankie and Wanda sat side-by-side on the sofa. Ilke perched in the armchair, expression cautious as Wanda set in with her interrogation.

  She started out with innocuous questions, asking about Sweden. Aiden chimed in, repeating what Ilke had told him in the truck.

  “Babies nap outside. Even in winter.”

  Wanda then had questions about their preschool curriculum and childcare fees. Frankie wanted to know about the healthcare system and how that was funded. Soon the inquisition turned to government funding for sport and how Ilke had ended up skiing professionally.

  “I was scouted at a race by Trigg’s coach, actually. That was before Trigg switched to boarding. Coach Wurgler persuaded my mother to take me to Germany for a season so I could train with him there. That lasted three years, until my mother began dating the man who became my stepfather. We moved to Switzerland and he was my coach for a few years, then I got a job, moved out, changed things up, eventually started winning again. I lived in northern Italy for a few seasons and moved back to Sweden when I made the national team.”

  “Your mother is still in Sweden?”

  “She moved to New Zealand a few years ago.”

  “Oh. That’s a lot of places to live. Where do you consider home?”

  “Wherever my skis are,” Ilke said wryly, glancing at Nate before looking to the hands she had stacked in her lap. “Stockholm, at the moment.”

  “Is this your off-season? When do you start training again?”

  And there it was.

  “Wanda,” Nate said.

  Frankie gave him a look for his tone, but screw it. He and Wanda had enough history, he could tell her when to rein it in.

  “I’m curious about how the training schedule works,” Wanda said. “I’m not prying about plans.”

  They were one and the same in this instance, but Aiden asked him to help him find a piece. Nate glanced up at Ilke to make sure she wasn’t searching for the door, then started combing through the bin for an angled nib.

  “Things went sideways this year, obviously. But I usually mix things up in summer with other sports like cycling or wind-surfing. Something that’s different enough to be a fun break, but keeps me conditioned. I’ve been cross-country skiing, but once the snow melts, I’ll maybe try kayaking and swimming. I typically spend a few weeks skiing in New Zealand, testing equipment, working on technique.”

  “You take your skis there?”

  “I keep a few pairs at my mother’s, and ship the rest, yes. I travel with a few dozen. I also need a technician to take feedback and make repairs, wax and sharpen edges, and a trainer of course.”

  “That must get expensive,” Frankie murmured.

  “I guess that’s why athletes need sponsors,” Wanda said. “Who—”

  “Wanda,” Nate cut in. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

  Her shoulders fell. “I’m just curious. Am I making you uncomfortable, Ilke?”

  “They’re questions I’ve been asked before,” Ilke said with an unruffled smile, but he saw the tension around her eyes. Heard the strain in her answers.

  “I’ll dress the salad,” Frankie said, touching Wanda’s arm. “Why don’t you come check the lasagna?”

  They sat down a few minutes later to garlic bread, Caesar salad, and a lasagna recipe that was a nostalgia trigger for him.

  “I forgot how good your lasagna is, Wanda. Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  “I’ll give Ilke my recipe.”

  A beat of silence, then Ilke said, “And I will give it to the chef at the lodge, because neither of us has a kitchen.”

  “Oh, right.” Wanda laughed. “What do you think of Nate’s project?”

  “He knows what I think,” she said with the sassy look he was growing to need like air. “He should work faster.”

  “Get shoveling so I can see where I’m working.”

  She grinned. “It’s going to be amazing. Truly, I am in awe and cannot wait.”

  She said it more to him than the women. She held his gaze with a look that swelled his heart in his chest. In the back of his brain, the usual pressures played. If the money kept coming. If he stayed on time and budget. But he was proud of what he was doing. To have her feel as excited for what he was building as he was made the whole project that much sweeter.

  “Will you stay here, then? I mean, the resort is supposed to open this coming winter, isn’t it?” That was Frankie chiming in, glancing at Nate for confirmation on the deadline. She sounded friendly and curious.

  Wanda doubled-down with interest, holding her cutlery suspended as she waited for Ilke’s answer.

  Nate had known this was a fishing expedition, but now he was genuinely pissed off. He had said, No.

  “It will be some time before the sport school and athletes’ facility is staffed and running,” Ilke said, but carefully because her future was such a sensitive topic. “I can’t imagine it will be ready on opening day. Programs like that take time to develop.” She glanced at Nate.

  “My job is to get the buildings in place and the lifts moving, preferably not the other way around. How Rolf runs things after that is his business.” Literally. But it wasn’t Nate’s experience that Rolf dragged his feet on anything.

  “What about your job?” Frankie asked with a frown, glancing at Wanda with yet another check-in. Those two were definitely still conspiring. “I thought you were here for a few years at least,” she said to Nate.

  “There’s a five-year plan for expansion. As long as I keep doing my job right, I have one.”

  “But if Ilke has to train… Where do you think you’ll go, Ilke?” Frankie asked her point-blank.

  “You know what?” Nate said, voice tight. “We need to steer this conversation in another direction.”

  “Nate,” Wanda said in a plea that urged, Don’t be mad.

  Way too late for that. He eyed how much food was left on Ilke’s plate and glanced at the clock.

  “It’s a work night for me. I hope you won’t find it rude if we eat and run.” He shot a flat look at his ex-wife.

  “We’re just curious,” she said under her breath, sounding hurt. She reached to wipe the corner of Aiden’s mouth with a napkin.

  *

  “Fuck,” Nate said when they were pulling out of Wanda and Frankie’s driveway.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Ilke said, folding the recipe Wanda had written out for her. She would give it to the chef, but she would also keep a copy for herself—not that she knew when or where she would make it. “She wants to know what kind of person is hanging around her son’s father. I wish my own mother had shown that much concern.”

  “That’s not what that was.” Nate rolled through a stop sign onto the highway. Nothing was coming, but the way he picked up speed suggested he had just robbed a bank and wanted a clean getaway.

  “What, then?”

  He didn’t answer, seeming to prefer to fume.

  She sighed, trying not to think about her inability to provide solid answers to the women’s questions.

  “Wanda wants another baby. They do. Frankie wants to get pregnant.”

  Ilke turned her head. “You don’t approve?”

  “Here’s the thing.” She barely saw the cut of his hand through the glimmer from the dash lights. “I didn’t have my parents. I love my grandparents and I am incredibly grateful for the life they gave me, but you don’t aim for that. That’s a contingency plan for when life hits you in the face. The way Wanda and I are working things out, this was never the goal. Not my goal, anyway. It’s a fallback position.”

  “Okay. But I don’t understand how Frankie getting pregnant would affect you. They would be a two-parent family. Are you, like, against two women—”

  “No.” He drew a breath as though gathering tested patience.

  “Because it means some other man comes into the mix? Couldn’t she go to a bank or something?”

  “Sure, but we already have this functioning co-parent relationship a
nd wouldn’t it be nice if Aiden had a sibling?” His tone was so scathing and bitter, it took Ilke a moment to fully appreciate what he was saying.

  “Wait.” He couldn’t be serious. “Are you saying they want you to—” The absurdity struck her right in the funny bone. She clapped a hand over her mouth, quite certain he was too angry to see the humor, but it was sputtering from between her clamped lips.

  “It’s not fucking funny, Ilke.”

  She couldn’t hold it in and dropped her hand to release a gale of laughter. “It really is.”

  “It’s so fucking not.” His fury made it extra funny.

  “Think about it.” She strained to talk around the bubbles of hilarity that kept rising from the middle of her chest into her throat and coming out as peals of laughter. “If I had had your baby and Frankie had your baby…” Her eyes were watering. “Wanda already had—”

  “Cut it out.” Oh, he was mad.

  She worked at stifling herself, wiping under her eyes and drawing even breaths, but it took solid effort.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing. “You’re right. If I have any say in the matter, you are definitely not fucking Frankie.” But for some reason, just saying that made her break down again.

  “I thought I might have some say in the matter,” he informed her coldly, which only kept her going.

  “Stop it. I’m so fucking…” He made a noise of subdued rage. “Wanda knew how much it meant to me to have a family where both parents come home every night to our kids. She lied when we got married, and had our son knowing what my expectations for our future were. Now we’re this, and she wants to make it even more of a Jackson Pollock painting?”

  The pain beneath his anger allowed her to finally get hold of herself.

  “I didn’t mean to laugh.” She reached a contrite hand to his. “It caught me off guard.”

  “Tell me about it.” He turned his hand to hold hers, giving her a little squeeze of reprimand, then kept her in his warm grip.

  “But you can’t be too angry. I can see why they asked.” She had to hang on to his hand as he tried to pull away. “You’re a wonderful father, Nate. That’s why I wanted your baby. I can’t blame them for seeing the same thing.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a fucking stud service.” He let her keep hold of his hand, though.