A Mom for Christmas. Joan Kilby
in surprise at the flash and smiled. Nicola refocused and clicked again.
Setting the camera on the coffee table, Nicola said, “What do you usually do after school?”
“It’s my job to feed the fish.” Emily got the container of fish food from the cabinet beneath the tank. She sprinkled a pinch on the surface of the water then watched the fish swim up and snatch at the flakes.
“What kind are they?” Nicola asked, bending over, hands on knees to watch, too.
“There’s two angelfishes, five neon tetras and a sucker fish. We used to have a Siamese fighting fish, but he kept biting the angelfishes’ tails so Daddy took him back to the store.”
Nicola straightened and wandered over to the shelving unit. Her fingers grazed the ivory glaze on a large ceramic pot with a lid. “This is pretty.”
Emily gazed up at her solemnly. “Mommy’s in there.”
Nicola snatched her hand away and pressed it to her heart. “Oh, you mean her ashes.”
Slightly shaken she moved across to where Aidan’s trophies were displayed. Judging by the inscriptions on the gilt cups he’d had some impressive wins in major national and international competitions. “Does your dad still race?”
Emily said something in her soft voice Nicola didn’t catch. “Pardon?” Nicola asked.
“No, he doesn’t race,” the girl said a little louder.
Nicola sat on the wide arm of the chair. “Sometimes little girls have to roar to make themselves heard.”
Emily smiled uncertainly. “Like a lion?”
“Exactly. Let me hear you roar.”
“Roar,” Emily said in just a slightly more powerful than normal voice.
“No, I mean, roar,” she said, making a hearty growl. “Like that.”
Emily giggled. “Roar!”
“That’s better.” Nicola smiled.
Emily pretended to pounce on her. “Roar! Roar! Roar!”
Nicola laughed. “Okay, that’s enough for now. Shall we go make that snowman?”
“First I need a snack. Toasted cheese. Come, I’ll show you.” Emily took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen.
Nicola was an indifferent cook, but she followed orders well. Her toasted cheese made under the broiler and hot chocolate with three marshmallows were happily in accordance with Miss Emily’s exacting taste.
“I don’t have school tomorrow,” Emily announced. “It’s a curr-curr—”
“Curriculum day?” Nicola guessed.
Emily nodded. “There’s a notice in my backpack.”
“We could go up the mountain,” Nicola suggested. “Would you like that?”
Emily’s eyes lit and she smiled, her chocolate moustache widening. “Yes, please!” Her smile faded. “I don’t know if Daddy will let me.”
“You be sure and ask him tonight. Do you have skis?” Emily shook her head. “Never mind, we can rent.”
When they were warmed inside and out, they put their outdoor clothes back on. Nicola slung her camera over her neck and they went into the front yard. Snow was falling in big fluffy flakes.
Aidan pulled into his driveway to find a half-finished snowman crouched fatly on the buried lawn, its head at its feet. Aidan’s glance went automatically toward his study window but no small nose was pressed against the pane. A small surge of panic, quickly repressed, tightened his chest.
Then a snowball hit the Land Cruiser with a resounding thwack. Aidan started and peered into the dark corners of the yard. Thwack. Another snowball and another. Then girlish squeals of laughter.
Aidan got out of the truck and Emily appeared and openly threw snowballs. “Roar!”
Nicola was hiding behind the snowman, making more to hand to her.
Aidan advanced in a hail of snowballs and scooped up an armful of snow. Laughing, he charged his daughter and dumped his load on top of her head. “That’ll teach you to mess with your daddy.”
A snowball struck the back of his neck, sending an icy trickle down his collar. Slowly he turned. Nicola had her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing in the porch light. In her down jacket and snowpants her body looked bulky and shapeless. Slowly he started walking toward her, not sure what he was going to do, but aware he wasn’t going to let her get away with that!
Hands raised now, she backed away. “Just kidding! We can stop now. I’m done.”
“I’m not.” He gathered up more snow and advanced on Nicola. Behind him Emily giggled and pelted him with tiny snowballs that splatted against his back. Nicola continued to retreat until she came up against the prickly branches of a blue spruce.
He lunged, grabbing her around the waist in an iron grip and washed her face with snow.
“Hey!” Spluttering and laughing, Nicola struggled and kicked. One booted foot connected with his shin and he leaped back, yelping in pain as he clutched his leg and hopped about. Emily threw herself at him, knocking him off balance. He fell into a snowdrift. Nicola seized the advantage and piled more snow on him.
“Two against one. No fair,” he protested, attempting to fend off Emily. He lifted her in the air, arms and legs waving, and got to his feet.
Aidan set his daughter down and glanced from her to Nicola. “Truce?”
Emily jumped up and down. “We won! We won!” She tugged on his jacket. “Help us finish the snowman, Daddy.”
“Did this poor fellow lose his head over a woman?” Aidan asked, picking up the basketball-size lump of snow.
“It is a woman,” Emily shrieked. “Can’t you tell?”
He stood back. Sure enough, on second glance, the snow figure had a distinctly matronly shape. Teasing, he said, “No wonder she hasn’t got a brain.”
“Them’s fightin’ words,” Nicola warned, reaching for more snow.
Grinning, Aidan sidled toward her again, hefting the snow woman’s head in one hand.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Nicola’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Daddy!” Emily planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Put the snow woman’s head on her body!”
“Okay, you little tyrant,” he said good-naturedly. He balanced the head on top of the body and packed extra snow into the groove to keep it attached. “How was school today?”
“We made Christmas cards and colored in a big picture of Santa and his reindeer....” Her words trailed off as she busily rolled snow into a ball across the lawn. “Now I’m making a snow baby.”
Nicola bent to pick up a scarf lying on the ground and tied it around the snow woman’s neck. Aidan found a few pieces of gravel at the edge of the driveway and pressed them into the head, creating a face.
“How did everything go today?” he asked.
Nicola glanced up. “Fine. I had a chat with Emily’s teacher. Sara Winston taught me fifth grade way back when.”
“Oh?” he said warily. Sara was great with the kids, but he’d noticed in his parent-teacher meeting she had a tendency to be indiscreet, often blurting out information about other families she had no right to pass on. “What did she have to say?”
Nicola lowered her voice and looked him directly in the eye. “She said there was some controversy