“She likes to fix things,” he said. “But if it doesn’t work right away, she’ll quit.”
Nicole couldn’t argue that about her mother. It was true.
“And me?” he lifted his brows. “I’m a fighter, maybe even to a fault. I refused to give up, even after my accident.”
Nicole tried to swallow a bite of chicken, but it stuck in her throat. “Well, that didn’t happen to me after my accident.”
For a long time, he was quiet, picking at some mashed potatoes. “Yours was different, Nic,” he said. “I broke bones. You…almost died.”
She exhaled, the memory of the blackness and horror she felt deep in seven feet of darkness and freezing cold, snow in her mouth, her eyes, her lungs…the sound of deathly quiet and her thumping, racing heart.
No, that wasn’t an accident. It was a trauma.
“And that’s why I don’t ski,” she said. “Does that make me a quitter, too, Dad?”
His eyes misted as he reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “I’m sorry I made you go down Empire. I’m sorry I pushed you and?—”
“You also saved my life,” she said, turning her hand to squeeze his fingers. “Because you’re not a quitter and you dug through snow and screamed for help and pulled me out alive.”
For what felt like an eternity, he stared at her, and she could practically see the dark memory replay in his mind.
“Any chance in heaven or hell you’d ever give me a shot at making it up to you? Hit the slopes and try again?”
She smiled. “No, but I know that won’t stop you from asking.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s not too late to try skiing, Nic, or, you know, see someone if you wanted to talk about it.”
She shook her head, never wanting to go into therapy after the accident. Her parents had talked about it, but even at nine, she knew she had no desire to re-live what had happened to her on that mountain. Maybe that had been a mistake, but it felt like the right choice to her.
“Do you ever miss skiing?” her father asked.
“Yes, sometimes I do.” Why lie? She’d loved skiing…until she didn’t.
He angled his head. “It’s just that you were so dang good, Nic. Your timing and core strength and speed?—”
“Lots of kids have that,” she said.
“Not with that reaction time or center of gravity,” he countered. “Not with that amazing hand-eye or your focus. And certainly not with that…fearlessness.”
She snorted. “Count that one out. The very sight of my old skis can make me tremble with terror.”
He closed his eyes with a grunt. “You could get over that, Nic. You could get back on skis. You’re only twenty-eight, you could have a lifetime of skiing ahead of you. So many glorious moments, just you and the mountain and?—”
She held her hand out. “Are you coming to help us save Snowberry or not?”
Jack leaned back, visibly startled by the abrupt change of subject. “Nicole?—”
“You don’t have to live at the lodge, though God knows we have the space. Just…show up and do what you do best. Tell your crazy stories, make all the guests laugh and feel enchanted with that Jack Kessler Magic. Make it feel like Christmas again.”
He laughed at the description. “That was my first job after I was done skiing, you know.”
“I know. That’s how you met Mom.”
He leaned in, his eyes gleaming. “I took her on the first ride I gave,” he said. “And I kissed her right in the middle of Bluebell Crossing that night. Didn’t even make it to the old Aspen View trail and I had to have that girl in a liplock.”
She was touched that the names for the landmarks were still so easy for him to recall, but how much he still cared for Mom actually made her a little dizzy.
“Well, then maybe you need to get back there and…”Kiss her again. “Head up to Bluebell and see how beautiful it is,” she said instead.
