CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER
2
C
onnor waited until the last two students headed for home and sat down heavily on the edge of the stage. He usually loved this time of year—especially directing the Christmas play the high school students put on. They were doing
A Christmas Carol
again, and though it was one of his favourite plays, he just couldn’t get into it. Nine sleeps until Christmas according to his students, and he hadn’t bought a single gift or put up so much as a strand of tinsel.
He was completely exhausted this year, and outside of school he was planning to give Christmas a pass. He’d bailed on the big family Christmas in LA at his mom’s, and declined his dad’s invitation to fly to Ireland for the holidays. They’d let him get away with that because they knew how hard the past couple weeks had been for him—but only on the condition that he promised to spend Christmas Day with Patrick.
“Connor? What are you still doing here?” As the music teacher, Marcie was often at school late for rehearsals, and she was hard at work prepping the kids for the show this week. Normally she had energy levels that would put a teenager to shame, but her brown eyes looked tired behind her glasses today, and even her mop of corkscrew curls was a little wilted. She plunked herself down beside him on the stage. “I thought you’d be long gone by now. Didn’t rehearsals finish at five?”
“Yeah, but Logan and Brittany were having trouble with their lines, so we stayed late. And then I just couldn’t motivate myself to go home.” With George gone, the place felt empty. He was trying to get through it by distracting himself, and between the play and keeping on top of his regular class prep and marking, there was plenty to keep him out of trouble at the school.
“You must really miss him.” Marcie reached over and gave him a one-armed hug.
“It’s a big change going home to an empty house every day. I’m still not used to it.”
“You know you’re always welcome at our house.” She patted him on the knee and stood up with a groan. “I’ve got to get my kids. They’re doing homework in my classroom. At least that’s what I hope they’re doing. I bribed them with dinner at Jeannie’s tonight if they behaved while I finished rehearsals. Why don’t you come with us?”
Not for the first time, he wished there was some chemistry between them. But after one really awkward date, they were firmly settled into the friend zone, an arrangement they were both comfortable with.
He glanced at his watch.
How is it seven o’clock already?
He thought about the leftovers in the fridge at home and decided they’d be just as leftover tomorrow. A growl from his stomach clinched the deal. “Sounds perfect. I’ll grab my stuff and meet you out front.”
Connor put the last of the props away and swung by his classroom. He glanced quickly around the room with a practised eye, taking note of two abandoned textbooks and three water bottles. He sighed and put the water bottles into the lost and found box in the corner. The books he put on his desk. Someone would come looking tomorrow. The textbook deposit all the students paid ensured that.
He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and jammed a tuque onto his head. He wondered how many years he’d have to live in Rivers End before he got used to winter actually being
cold
.
Connor grabbed the folder of papers from his desk and shoved them into his shoulder bag. He’d tackle the grading tomorrow if the snow kept up.
His stomach growled again, and with his mind on the shepherd’s pie special that Jeannie’s Diner featured on Friday nights, he headed for the front door of the school.
He heard them coming before he saw them, all bundled up to face the snowy cold outside. Thirteen-year-old Lyric was singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” at the top of her voice, sending echoes down the hallways and chills down his spine. She was getting better every time he heard her, and she’d been plenty good before.
Nine-year-old Nate raced ahead of the girls as usual with his backpack swinging wildly off his arm, gleefully telling his sister to shut up at the top of his lungs every time she took a breath.
Connor just laughed at Marcie’s pained expression.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these two at your place for a while? A weekend in a quiet house sounds like a dream to me right now.”
“Anytime, Marcie. You know I love hanging out with the kids.”
She paused as though she was about to say something but just shook her head. “Okay, gang. Let’s go get some dinner. Last one to Jeannie’s has to pick up the tab!”
Connor laughed and headed for his truck, moving slowly enough that the kids piled into Marcie’s car before he finished cleaning off his windshield.
Once he was sure they were safely on their way, he followed them out of the parking lot onto Charleton Avenue and hung a right on School Road towards the water.
The glow of the taillights on Marcie’s van made him smile. He might be missing George more than he’d anticipated, but alone wasn’t necessarily the same as lonely.
It was creeping
up to nine o’clock by the time Connor got home, but he was feeling better. Maybe this weekend he’d put up some lights, try to get into the holiday spirit a little.
He looked up at the sky, but all he could see through the darkness was a patch of falling snow lit up by the outdoor lights on the house.
The weatherman said they might have eight inches by morning. Not that the forecast was often right, but looking at the ground right now, with the snow still coming down, it seemed entirely possible.
Dammit.
He just wanted to crawl into bed, but he had zero interest in setting the alarm to take care of all the accumulated snow in the morning. He grabbed the snow shovel he’d left on the front porch and headed back to the driveway. He’d do one quick pass along the sidewalk in front of the house and save himself some effort in the morning.
On the upside, maybe it’d tire him out, and he’d be able to fall asleep when his head hit the pillow.
For the first time in a very long time, he felt himself considering that a nice hot toddy would go down a real treat.
He shovelled harder and faster.
Not gonna happen.
He put one hundred percent of his focus into shovelling. The scrape of the metal shovel along the concrete, the soft plop as the shovelful of snow landed on the grass inside the fence, and then repeat. He focused on the icy sting of the cold air as he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Over and over he shovelled, until the rhythm was automatic and his brain shut off. It worked even better than meditating, because by the time he was done, his body was as exhausted as his mind.
Connor wasn’t surprised at the creak of a door opening and the jingle of dog tags as Scarlett—Sharon Hanson’s dachshund—started doing laps around his ankles in the freshly cleared space on the sidewalk.
“Hey, Scarlett. Out for a stroll before bed, are you?” He took a moment to fuss over the dog and pretended not to notice George’s neighbour on the front porch in what looked to be a silk dressing gown and not much else.
Sharon had made it clear in the past that she…
appreciated
his taking the time to shovel the walk in front of her house. And that she’d be happy to show her gratitude in any number of creative ways.
Which was precisely why he was avoiding her. She was attractive and knew how to play up her assets. But he needed to keep his life on an even keel. Predictable. Manageable. And that meant not getting involved—at least not with anyone in Rivers End.
There was no such thing as a casual fling in this town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. Connor preferred to keep himself to himself, as the saying went. He’d had more than enough drama when he’d lived in LA. Leaving it all behind was the smartest thing he’d ever done.
He gave Scarlett a final pat and sent a polite wave in Sharon’s direction, heading back up the driveway to George’s house.
A long, hot shower and he’d be more than ready for bed. Alone.
Connor stomped the snow off his boots on the front porch, thankful for the overhang that kept the entrance sheltered. He leaned the snow shovel against the wall, pulled his keys from his pocket, and let himself in.
He hung his jacket off a stack of banker boxes that made a tower by the door. No point letting it drip all over the house. Connor quickly made his way through the living room, careful not to bump into anything along the way. He peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. He’d had a good workout in the snow and felt a lot more clear-headed.
He was on his way to the sink for a glass of water when the smell registered. Burgers and fries? He hadn’t used the kitchen since last night, and he’d only made mac and cheese. And what was that sound?
Was that… the dryer?