The Secret Between Them. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ sign yourself and Jessica in, since she has her hands full?” She turned to Jessica. “Every time you come in, I’ll need you each to clock in and out on this sheet. We’ll leave it on the honor system. Don’t worry, I trust you—the paperwork is for your safety, in case anyone ever challenges that you kept to your bargain. It will be proof you were here when you said you were. Then, every few weeks, I’ll come and pick it up. I need to file a report with the court every month as part of the trusteeship, and we want to make sure our records are unimpeachable. Does that sound all right to you both?”

      “Fine,” Kyle gritted out.

      “Great,” Jessica said, smoothing Hannah’s curls.

      “I’d like to see the rest of the rink,” Kyle said. His gaze was looking everywhere around the office except at Jessica and Hannah. Up at the ceiling. Down at the floor. Studying the faded Formica countertops.

      “Well, I do need to warn you again,” Natalie said, picking up her bag. “Since the facility was partially shut down during Joe’s illness, it’s in rough shape.”

      “That’s okay,” Kyle said gruffly. “I’ll fix it.”

      Jessica had no doubt that he would. She gently rocked the toddler in her arms, which helped Jessica stay calm. Except for the present conversation, she’d barely noticed she was back in the rink she’d sworn never to set foot inside again. She’d been dreading this day since the meeting in Natalie’s office.

      If she could keep Hannah with her every day for six months, she might be okay. She laughed softly to herself. Yeah, Natalie would love that, she thought, shaking her head at her silliness.

      “I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” Natalie was saying. “As I understand it from the assessors, the rink is in crisis. Much of the old machinery is falling apart. The second Zamboni isn’t working. The compressor in the big rink is on the fritz. That’s a direct quote from Joe. The small rink—the figure-skating rink—isn’t working at all...”

      Jessica tried to tune out what Natalie was saying. She had no intention of having anything to do with any of it. She thought she was doing pretty damn great as it was. She felt calm, no longer filled with anxiety and guilt. Hannah quietly played with Jessica’s abalone pendant, chattering to it in sweet toddler talk, distracting Jessica and settling her nerves.

      “...in addition, two of the toilets are inoperative and one of the sinks is cracked. A plumber needs to be consulted.”

      “I’ll do it,” Kyle said in his quiet, authoritative voice. “I’ll fix all the equipment.”

      He actually seemed happy about the challenge, and it was the one thing about this whole scenario that Jessica was grateful for—that Kyle was happy. It helped ease her guilt. Somewhat. She still needed to talk to him about her letter. To get it off her chest...

      Natalie unlocked a door beside the desk clerk’s counter, and a musty odor filled the room. Jessica wrinkled her nose.

      “The place just needs a good, deep cleaning,” Kyle said, not to Jessica but to Natalie, who was standing stoically by. “I washed this place from top to bottom every season as a kid.”

      Jessica remembered that. The rink used to shut down for a week in June. One time she’d been inside with her mother, meeting with Joe, and she’d noticed that Kyle had seemed to be assigned a lot of the messy janitorial duties. Painting, cleaning rubber matting, disinfecting the locker rooms, shining exterior windows...

      “I’ll take care of it,” he repeated.

      Jessica swallowed. Her guilt was kicking in again.

      “Why don’t we take that walk-through?” Natalie suggested, glancing at her watch. “I have about ten minutes before I have to leave if I want to make it in time for court.”

      Jessica’s heart sped up. She had no intention of venturing past this entry area, certainly not into the heart of the rink with the ice surfaces or locker rooms.

      She hugged Hannah, but the toddler squirmed and Jessica set her down on her feet.

      Jessica glanced through the glass doors and across the hallway. Joe’s old office was located there, and it was where Jessica planned to stake out her thirty hours per week for the next twenty weeks or so. That was their agreement, and she was sticking to it.

      “I’ll stay here, in Joe’s old office and watch your little girl for you,” she said to Natalie.

      “Are you okay?” Natalie asked, peering into her face.

      Jessica nodded, glancing away. Once she’d been prone to panic attacks, and she well knew how they started. Flushed cheeks. Rapid breathing. Fixation on an unwanted result.

      “I’m fine,” she insisted, more to herself than to Natalie. She opened the glass door and prepared to head out to the hallway again. “Where’s the key to Joe’s old office?” she asked, turning...

      And as she turned, she saw a bare, rectangular spot of faded paint on the old concrete wall above the double doors that led to the twin rinks.

      The office door closed behind her. Jessica froze, alone in the hallway, staring at the wall above the double doors. This was where her poster-sized portrait had been. Her smiling image had greeted everyone who’d entered the Wallis Point Twin Rinks during all the years she’d trained here.

      The office door clicked open and shut behind her, and she heard the heaviness of Kyle’s work boots on the rubber matting beside her.

      From the corner of her eye, she saw him gazing at the empty spot, too, and then at her. He’d worked and played at the rink during the same time she had. He would remember that poster. He would be thinking exactly what she was thinking, except that he wouldn’t know that her smiling face had been a lie.

      He exhaled, darting a glance her way. Maybe he did suspect she’d been lying back then. Sometimes the way he used to meet her eyes when they’d had a rare moment alone had made her wonder what he thought. But he’d never said a word about any suspicions he might have had regarding her real feelings. He’d made kind gestures—a small favor here or there, a cup of coffee or a kind look. Actions, but not words.

      That’s who Kyle was—the strong and silent type. He didn’t avoid unpleasant situations, as Sebastien tended to, but he didn’t dwell on things, either.

      She turned her back on the rectangle of faded paint, breathed slowly in and out. Focused her attention on the lobby floor. On the peeling rubber mats that had seen better days. The dirty, scuffed interior walls and a limp plant, dead in its pot.

      She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, a comforting human touch.

      Kyle. She wasn’t prepared for him to touch her—he’d barely glanced at her all morning—but when she looked into his face, she saw understanding, the gaze of someone who’d known and remembered her.

      In all the years of their awkward teen acquaintance, she’d never been physically close to him before. They’d never touched skin.

      She reached across her chest and pressed the back of his knuckles with the palm of her hand. She meant it as a thank-you, but the shock of his heat and strength struck her at once.

      Her heart made a trembling pitter-patter in her chest.

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