by Robyn Carr
Grace laughed. “First of all, I have Iris and Troy for a while longer before school starts. I have a delivery boy and he’s great. I have Waylan, Al, even Seth sometimes helps me cart my stuff inside, though I don’t need them—I’m completely capable. Besides, from the second I first saw you with Matt I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep you. Now, are you going to argue with me or are you going to run to him? Run to him so you can wrap him in your arms and tell him how much you love him and how proud you are of him?”
Fresh tears wet her cheeks. “I’m so proud of him,” she whispered.
“It’s a brand-new life, Ginger. You’ve waited long enough. Don’t waste another minute.”
* * *
Matt turned on the faucet in the deep sink behind the house, the sink used to wash the mud off vegetables from his mother’s garden. He stuck his head under the cold water. He squeezed liquid detergent right onto his head, his curling black hair, and plunged his hands into the lather. He watched the brown dirt flow down the drain with the soap and water. It wasn’t a proper shampoo but it would be good enough for now. He lifted his head and shook off the water like a dog would, then he took the bar of soap and the brush and began scrubbing his filthy hands while water from his head dripped on his shirt, leaving his collar wet. He rinsed his hands, scrubbed, rinsed, scrubbed, rinsed and finally turned off the faucet and grabbed the towel. He wiped it down his face and left it streaked with dirt. Drying his hands, he turned. And he saw her again.
He’d been seeing her all day. In exactly those clothes, too—that long, lace skirt, denim jacket and brown boots. He’d finally decided he at least had superior hallucinations when the breeze caught her skirt and lifted it. Some of her soft honey-blond hair blew across her face and she raised a hand to push it back over her ear.
God! She was real!
He threw down the towel and ran to her. She opened her arms and for just a split second he thought, If I’m dying it’s all right because this is the way I choose to go. Before he could complete the thought, he filled his arms with her. His lips were buried in the soft fragrance of her neck.
“Sweetheart,” he said in a breath, holding on for dear life. It took a moment for him to think straight. He should talk to her. Instead, he covered her mouth in a steamy and deep kiss, squeezing her so hard he hoped he wouldn’t break her in two. It was the sound of her soft laughter that made him finally let go of her lips.
“You made me all wet,” she said. “Fancy bath you have there.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, breathless.
“I needed you,” she said. “You needed me.”
He pushed a little hair out of her eyes. “When do you have to go back?”
“I don’t have to. Well, yes, I do. I left some things behind and I haven’t said a proper goodbye to Ray Anne or my friends, but there’s no hurry. Next week, maybe. For one night. Or maybe I’ll do it in one day.”
“What about Grace?” he asked.
“She said she’s going to have to replace me.” She ran her fingertips through his black, curling hair. “She said the second she saw us together she knew she’d have to replace me. She told me to stop wasting time.”
Cradling her head in one big hand, he gave her a tender kiss. “I’ve always admired Grace. Have I mentioned that?”
“Actually, no,” she said, laughing. “I hope I’m not imposing.”
He grinned. “Come with me,” he said.
He led her around the back of the house to the RV.
“I saw that from the road. Has the family started to arrive already? I thought I had time before—”
He cut her off by lifting her into his arms. “Your castle, my love. If you approve of it, we can get one of our own and live in it while we build.”
“It’s yours?”
“Ours. It’s rented but if it works for you, I’ll buy one.” He grinned devilishly. “I could come home for lunch.”
“I’ve always been impressed by how enterprising you are.”
He turned her so he could open the door to the RV and then they both laughed. It wasn’t big enough for him to carry her over the threshold and inside without doing some damage. He put her down carefully.
“Oh! Matt! You did this all by yourself?”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “It might be bigger than that little loft.”
“They’re getting very fancy,” he said. “It has a two-person shower and a whirlpool tub.”
“What a wonderful idea, I would have never—”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms again. “Thank you for making me face the ghosts. I would’ve fought the past forever and damn, it feels so much better to realize that I can leave some things behind and look at the future with you. I don’t know how you know these things...”
“I was only guessing,” she said. “But I wanted you so much and I knew I couldn’t have you until you were free.”
“We’re ready now, honey. We have to be ready now because I’m so in love with you, I’m starting to hallucinate.”
“You did have a dazed look for a second. Will your parents approve of you living in sin right on their property?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. But for your information, we’re not going to live in sin for long. At the first opportunity we’ll get married. I need you to be my wife. You’re already my heart and my breath. Tell me you’ll marry me, that we’ll belong to each other.”
“I think we already do belong to each other, Matt. The rest is a formality. A very sweet formality.”
* * *
George Lacoumette stood just outside the barn, watching the back of the house where the vegetable sink was. As Paco came out, George put out an arm, blocking him. They stood together, George leaning on a shovel handle and Paco wiping his brow with a kerchief. They watched as Matt rinsed his head, scrubbed his hands and then spotted his girl. They observed as he kissed her brainless, then lifted her into his arms to carry her to that fancy new RV he’d parked at the side of the house. After a little more kissing and whispering, they disappeared inside.
“I don’t think Matt’s coming to dinner,” George said.
“Just as well,” Paco said. “We should maybe leave a little nourishment on the step for them.”
“They’d have to open the door to find it,” George said.
“Let’s wash up,” Paco said. “Now that the coast is clear.”
“Ginger is a nice girl,” George said. “She makes a lot more sense for him.”
“We’ll get a lot more work out of him now,” Paco said. “Married men are more reliable.”
“You sure he’s going to marry her?” George asked.
“Didn’t you see?” Paco asked. “He might marry her before dinner!”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from ONE WISH by Robyn Carr.
Share the joys, heartbreaks, challenges and triumphs of the people who inhabit the small Oregon town of Thunder Point with #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr.
If you loved A New Hope, be sure to catch the next book in Robyn’s acclaimed Thunder Point series: Wildest Dreams (September 2015).
For more unforgettable tales of heart, hope and happiness,
collect the entire Thunder Point series today!
The Wanderer
The Newcomer
The Hero
The Chance
The Promise
The Homecoming
One Wish
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Shelter Mountain
Whispering Rock
A Virgin River Christmas
Second Chance Pass
Temptation Ridge
Paradise Valley
Forbidden Falls
Angel’s Peak
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Promise Canyon
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Harvest Moon
Bring Me Home for Christmas
Hidden Summit
Redwood Bend
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My Kind of Christmas
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One Wish
Robyn Carr
One
Grace Dillon’s flower shop was very quiet on the day after Christmas. She had no orders to fill, no deliveries to make, and she’d be very surprised if her shop phone rang at all. Most people were trying to recover from Christmas; many families were away for the holidays or had company to entertain.
Grace drove to North Bend to grab an early skate before the rink got busy. Figure skating classes were suspended over Christmas break and people, mostly kids who wanted to try out their new skates, would dominate the rink later in the day. Grace loved these secret early morning skates. She had a deal with Jake Galbraith, the rink owner. She could call him and if it was convenient, he’d let her skate for an hour or two while they were getting ready to open. He didn’t want to charge her, but she paid him fifty dollars an hour anyway. It was a point of pride.
He smiled at her when she came in and told her to have a good skate.
She stretched and then stepped onto the deserted ice, closely following the Zamboni ice resurfacer that had just finished. She warmed up with forward and backward crossovers, backward half swizzle pumps, figure eights, scratch spins and axels. She noticed Jake was watching, leaning his forearms on the boards. She performed a forward spiral and a leaning tower spiral. She executed a perfect sit spin next. She circled the ice a few times, adding a jump here and there. She had been famous for her straddle split jump, touching her toes with her fingers. When she looked for Jake again, he had disappeared.
Suddenly, the music started, filling the rink with the strains of “Rhapsody in Blue.” She glided into an arabesque, arms stretched, fingers pointed, wrists flexible. She saw that Jake had returned, was watching her every move. She went for a double axel and fell on her ass. She got up, laughing to herself. She glided around the rink a few times, tried the jump again and landed it, but it wasn’t pretty. The music changed to another Gershwin tune. She’d practiced to this music as a little girl; it was familiar and comfortable. Her earliest memories of skating always filled her with nostalgia and comfort. That was before the competition got really fierce.
She’d been on the ice for an hour when the music segued into Alicia Keys’s “Girl on Fire” and it lit her up. Her signature music. She was on fire! She skated like she was competing. When she was fifteen, stronger but lighter and more flexible, she could really catch the air. She noticed other people watching—a guy leaned on his broom and gazed at her, a couple of teenage girls who worked in the skate rental shop had stopped working to watch, the Zamboni driver leaned a shoulder against the rink glass, hands in his pockets. Two hours slid by effortlessly. She slowed and got off the ice when she heard the sounds of people arriving to skate.
“Beautiful,” Jake said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Holidays are busy at the shop,” she said. She tried to get to the rink on Sunday mornings, but the past month had been frantic—wreaths, centerpieces, two weddings and increased day-to-day traffic in the shop.
“You should spend more time on the ice. I have a long list of people looking for a good coach.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be a good coach. I don’t have time for one thing. And I’d never go back on the circuit, even with students. I left that world.”
“I thought the day would come that you might be interested in going back, maybe not in competition for yourself, but coaching. I think on name alone you’d make a fortune.”
“I left the name behind, too,” she reminded him with a smile. “We have an agreement.”
“I haven’t said a word. People ask me, who is that girl, but I just say you’re training and asked not to be identified. Some of them guess and would show up to watch you if they had any idea when you would be skating. The ice misses you. Watching you skate is like seeing music.”
“Nice try. I don’t train anymore. I spent as much time on my ass as on my blades. I look like crap.”
“Your worst is better than a lot of bests I see. I’ve missed you. Maybe you’ll have more time in the new year.”
“We’ll see.”
She took off her skates and pulled on her Ugg boots. Sometimes she questioned her decision to leave it all behind, because being on the ice made her so happy. Then she’d remind herself that while a couple of hours felt great, the difficult routine of a competitive figure skater was grueling, exhausting. As a coach she’d never be able to push young girls the way she’d been pushed.
She pulled out a hundred dollars in cash for her two hours alone on the rink. Jake had told her he put the money in a special scholarship fund for young wannabe Olympians who couldn’t otherwise afford lessons. She told him however he wanted to spend it was fine with her. As long as he didn’t sell her out.
As she left the rink she reflected that her life in Thunder Point was so much more peaceful than it had been in competition and her freedom was hard-won. She had friends now, even if they didn’t know who she had been before. At least no one thought of her as tragic or complicated or as one of the saddest yet most triumphant stories told on the competitive skating circuit. No one was threatened by her, hated her, feared or resented her. No one called her a rich bitch or a dirty liar.
Of course, the weight of her secrets sometimes wore on her. Jake Galbraith had recognized her at once. All she had to do was ask the cost of a private rink for a couple of hours and he knew immediately who she was. She hadn’t confided in anyone in Thunder Point.
When she got into the van she saw that she had a message on her cell phone. She listened to it before leaving the parking lot. It was Mikhail, her old coach. He still kept tabs on her. They stayed in touch. Often, they left each other a series of brief messages because he could be anywhere in the world. “I am wishing you happy Christmas,” the Russian said. “I think I am day late. If so, you will understand.”
Grace waited until she was back in her tiny apartment above the flower shop before returning the call. “I thought you had forgotten all about me,” she said to his voice mail. “It was a happy Christmas. I was a maid of honor for my friend Iris yesterday—that’s how I spent the day. I’ve never been in a wedding before. It was small and intimate, a beautiful experience. And this morning I went skating. I fell three times.” Then she mimicked his accent. “
What can I say? I am clumsy oaf with no training.” Then she laughed, wished him the best New Year ever and said goodbye.
Grace’s beloved father and coach died rather suddenly when she was only fourteen and he was sixty. Her mother, once a competitive and professional figure skater, responded by hiring an even better coach, a very short Russian of huge reputation who could take Grace all the way. There was no time for grieving, they had work to do. Mikhail Petrov was a tough, brilliant coach and they were together for nine years. He had been very unhappy with her decision to leave competition and for a couple of years he pestered her to return to the sport. “Before you forget everything I taught you!”
Her mother, Winnie Dillon Banks, who had herself been a teenage skating wonder, was worse than devastated. She was furious. “If you quit now, after all I’ve invested in you, you are dead to me.” After the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver, Grace walked away from everything and everyone. All she’d ever wished for was to be like everyone else. To not be constantly judged every time she took a breath. She wanted to be normal.
* * *
In the afternoon, when Grace was just about to ruin her dinner with a big bowl of popcorn while looking through various online floral arrangements on her laptop, there was a light tapping at her back door. She pulled the curtain to peek out through the window in the door and was shocked to see Iris. She opened the door.
“Don’t newlyweds lay around in bed for several days after the wedding? Doing it until their parts give out?” Grace asked, only half teasing.
“Maybe when one of the newlyweds isn’t the town deputy,” Iris said. “We did eat breakfast in bed and Seth didn’t go to the office until about one. I cleaned the house, thawed something for dinner and...” She paused. “I called Troy to tell him.”