Fake Skating(10)

It was a little shocking to see him with a cane—I hadn’t seen him since the accident—but from the way it sounded, it was a miracle he was standing at all.

He asked, “How was the drive, kiddo?”

“It sucked,” I said as he let go of me. “Too long, too cold, too boring.”

“It’s only the beginning of February, hon,” he said with a grin. “This is like a crisp fall day. Better toughen up.”

“You sound insane when you say things like that.”

“You sound exactly like my favorite little smart-ass,” he replied. “It’s been too long. How’s it goin’, Mick?”

My grandpa gave another grunt, to which Big John replied, “Right?”

Sarah and my mom exploded into conversation after that, the way they always had, wandering toward the kitchen in a cloud of giggly exclamations. I followed, nervously wondering where Alec was.

In the kitchen?

Upstairs in his room?

Was he going to pop out of a closet?

God, I just needed to get this over with.

“Who are you?” I heard, and when I turned around, there were two little kids—one boy and one girl—standing beside the staircase that led to the second level. They looked like they were probably four or five years old, dressed alike in Vikings hoodies, and they were obviously waiting for me to answer the question.

“I’m Dani,” I said.

“No, that’s a boy’s name,” the girl said, her little eyebrows wrinkling together as a half-dressed Barbie dangled from her fist.

“It’s also my name,” I countered, wondering why I was justifying my name to a preschooler.

“I like your hair,” the boy said with a chin nod. “Your bun is real big.”

“Um, thank you,” I said, raising a hand to my messy hair, and I swear to God when I looked over at my grandpa, he almost looked like he wanted to smile.

But only almost.

“Can you believe we had more kids?” John said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it himself.

“Wait—these are yours?” I said, shocked to the core. “These two are your children?”

“Whoa—don’t seem so shocked,” he said with a grin. “We’re not that old.”

“No, it’s not that,” I explained with a laugh, my mind totally blown. “I just had no idea. My mom didn’t tell me.”

She’d been very careful to not discuss anything Minnesotan around my dad because he blamed this place for everything, so it wasn’t especially weird that she’d forgotten to mention something so huge.

I looked at the twins again, and now I could totally see it. They looked a lot like Alec. Dark hair, dark eyes, mischievous faces; they were like his little clones.

Or clones of who he used to be.

I wanted to ask John what Alec thought of being a big brother, but for some reason I was scared to bring up his name.

But it was like he read my mind.

“By the way, Al had to run his friends somewhere, but he should be back in a bit.”

“Oh,” I said, not sure how to respond. I didn’t want to seem too interested, but I didn’t want to seem too disinterested, either.

“I don’t think he’ll be back in time to eat with us, but he’ll be here before you leave.”

“Okay, cool,” I replied, relieved he wouldn’t be there for dinner. I felt myself relax a little, knowing I’d have at least another hour to get used to the situation before he showed up.

“Grab a seat at the table—the food is ready,” Sarah said, and my stomach growled, because she’d always been the most amazing cook, and it smelled like that hadn’t changed.

“You don’t have to ask us twice,” my mom said, and motioned for Grandpa Mick and me to come sit beside her. I sat on her left and my grandpa on the right, and as I scooted my chair in toward their big dining room table, I was a little surprised to see plates at every spot.

Alot of other plates.

“Go get your friends,” Sarah said to John with an eye roll, and he headed for the basement stairs.

“Friends?” my mom asked, taking the glass of white wine Sarah was holding out to her.

“As soon as I told John you guys were coming over for dinner, he opened his big mouth and told Dougie, Andy, and Ed. And even though I informed them multiple times that they weren’t welcome, the knowledge that you guys—and Mick Boche—were going to be here was too much for their hockey-addled brains and they refused to listen.”

Just as she finished saying that, three guys followed John upstairs. One was wearing a Vikings sweatshirt, and the other two were in flannel.

“No way,” my mom squealed, jumping to her feet and running over to hug the guy in the Vikings hoodie. As soon as she let go of that dude, she hugged the other two.

Which, to be honest, shocked the hell out of me.

The four of them obviously knew each other, and it was a little bit of a mind blow to me, seeing her this way. My mom had been an officer’s wife my entire life, not really having any friends of her own who weren’t just spouses of my dad’s coworkers who she occasionally attended base events with.

But here she was, beaming at this man trio as they gave her shit like they were the oldest of friends. I guess I’d always known she’d had a life before us, but I’d never thought about what it might’ve looked like.