Page 14 of He Has Santa (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
CHAPTER7
LOGAN
We meet at the "The Eruzione Center rink” in Winthrop. I remember playing here when I was a kid once or twice. True to her word, June introduces me to Nicky as Logan, an old high school friend of hers. The words physically hurt me until I see the smile light Nicky’s face.
“I like your tacks,” Nicky says. “I’m getting new skates for Christmas. Just like yours.”
“That right?”
“You hope,” June says. “Santa’s still watching in the meantime.”
Nicky rolls her eyes, and when I catch her eye, I give her a wink. To my surprise, she winks back and then takes my hand.
“Let’s get on the ice. I want to see if you can skate. Mom says you’re good, but we’ll see.”
“You the judge?”
“Yes,” she says, cocksure of herself. It’s hard to imagine this little pip of a girl as the vulnerable kid who wrote that Dear Santa letter. She leads me to the gate and steps onto the ice.
“Not so fast,” June says, trailing behind us. I hold a hand out to her. Skating isn’t her thing, so I know I’ll need to watch out for her. She takes my hand, and I hold onto her as she steps gingerly onto the ice with her rented figure skates.
“Ready?” I ask, looking from Nicky to June.
“I’ll race you.” Nicky drops my hand and takes off.
“Nicky, wait,” June says, then sighs with resignation. “You better catch up with her because I never will.”
I nod, and within four strides, I slide up to Nicky’s side, reaching out to take her hand.
“You’re pretty fast.”
“You too,” she says as we skate on. I slow down so she can keep up, and I’m impressed. She really is a natural. My heart races and not from the mild exertion of skating around a public skating rink. She reminds me of myself as a kid: her confidence, her skating ability, and the evident joy and enthusiasm she has for racing around. In a minute, we lap the ice and slow down as we reach June.
“Mommy, did you see that? I can skate as fast as Logan.”
“You’re a real speedster, honey.”
“Let’s go for a ride.”
Nicky squeals and clutches my hand for all she’s worth. We still haven’t told her I’m her father. It’s not an easy matter. I get a lump the size of a puck in my throat every time I think about telling her. But it’s clearer than a cold lake; she’s mine. Those are my eyes looking up at me, anticipation twinkling.
“I’m ready, Uncle Logan,” she says. The uncle tag startles me. I dart a look at June, who looks just as startled, maybe worried. June shakes her head, mouthing the word no.
“Why, uncle?” I asked, squatting down to meet Nicky face-to-face.
She shrugs. “I call a lot of old men uncle.”
“David’s friends, not mine,” June puts in, begging me for tolerance with her eyes. I’m about to stand and leave it for later, a time undefined but creeping up, when Nicky adds a comment, almost offhand.
“Besides, you must be related. You look like me.”
I suck in a deep breath, catching June’s surprised face. But this isn’t the time or place—especially not the place—for emotional revelations, so I stand and take her hand. Managing to match Nicky’s offhand tone, I say, “You’re right about that kid. Let’s take that ride.” I say to Nicky, avoiding June’s eyes.
“Let’s go fast!” Nicky says as I grab her hand. Then I grab June’s hand too.
“You are not whipping us around,” June says in a tight voice.
“It’ll be fun, Junie. Like old times.” In this very same rink, the memories of how we were crash in and take over like I’m stepped through time. Gone are my resentments and wariness and any semblance of caution because this is Junie, my girl, my one and only.
