Learning to Fly - 6

Chapter 6 - Is this a date?

Camilla had kicked up a fuss that Carly was abandoning her, standing with her arms crossed blocking the exit to the bar...that was before she was sucked onto the dance floor by several single men. Once that happened, Carly was long forgotten, so she escaped. Back in the staff quarters, she pondered what to do. She'd dressed in a rush for the Christmas Fayre, just jeans and a shirt, now at the thought of meeting a good looking man for a drink, a chat...who knew what to wear? Shaking her head she closed her wardrobe. 

"He's a recent widower!" she chastised herself.  "Why the hell would he even notice your clothes?"

Sighing, she reached for her bag she'd thrown it on the bed when she'd come back to the room, and made for the bar. 

Carly had been to this bar a few times since she'd arrived in the resort, and it was generally quieter than the ones in town. But it was popular with the hotel staff, as well as a lot of the guests. Tonight there were a few people there, but fortunately there was a free stool at the bar. Making for it, she ordered a beer from the barman, then settled on the seat. 

As she paid for the drink, she sipped it gratefully until she heard a clipped definitively English voice to her right.

"Hmmm, seems like an unlikely place to see Austria's newest Queen of morals!"

Snapping her head around, Carly came eye-to-eye with Lucas. He had a hurt look about him, and suddenly this quiet drink with a concerned father, she was still trying to convince herself that that's all this was, was potentially going to be blown out of the water. 

"Lucas!" She gave him her sweetest smile. "Not with Camilla tonight?" 

She was hoping to instill some guilt into him, but he just laughed.

"I've told you she's not my girlfriend." His dark eyes sparkled as he watched her absorb that information, anger and disbelief flashing in her eyes.

Carly shrugged, aware of her eyebrows tensing together into a frown "nothing to do with me!" And it really wasn't. When she'd spoken to him weeks ago that first angry encounter she'd thought him rash and rude. But here he seemed to have a sincerity she'd not noticed before, it didn't mean she believed him, but it did mean she wasn't quite as angry with him.

"Why do you hate me?" there was a certain sadness to his face, but she wasn't about to back down.

"I don't hate you. I don't KNOW you, and that's not something I want to change. First impressions last I suppose Lucas, and yours was a rude introduction. I have no care to see past that."

He slipped on to the seat next to her and smiled, a smile that changed his face completely. Had she never seen him smile before? 

"Now that sounds like a challenge!"

Carly groaned, the last thing she wanted was Lucas working hard to change her opinion of him, he was definitely in her 'don't care if I never see you again' category. 

But he sat there, elbow propped on the bar, chin resting on his upturned hand, a wry smile on his face, watching her every move with an intensity that freaked her out.

"That was fact, not a challenge." There was little conviction in her words, but she was determined not to get into this argument here and now.

He wasn't perturbed, "I think we could be friends. I sense a lot of similarities between me and you."

Carly shook her head, they had nothing in common, she refused to believe that. Instead of resorting to a ridiculously inane argument, she remained silent, instead sipping at her beer.

He came out with a lot of vague comments, supposedly in support of their similarities, none of which had any real relevance, but when he changed his attack slightly with "I mean, you are an outsider here, kind of like me..." It was more than she could handle, he really was comparing his egotistical self to her. 

"We're nothing alike," her voice was a hiss as she glared at him. "So please don't fabricate the truth to try and prove we are."

At that moment she saw Paul enter the room. It had obviously started to snow as thick white flakes had stuck to the coat and hat he slid out of inside the door. Carly waved then turned to Lucas, "If you'll excuse me, my friend is here..."

With that she turned her back on him, hoping he took it as a dismissal, but realising that his skin seemed a little thicker than she thought possible. Paul on the other hand seemed relieved to see she was there, he smiled as he tossed his coat and hat onto the floor next to the spare seat.

"Thanks for coming Carly." He had a dazzling smile, and Carly felt herself swoon. "Can I get you  a drink?"

She looked at her almost empty glass and nodded, "a beer would be great."

He gave an approving nod before turning to the barman and ordering the drinks.

Once he'd been served, Paul led her across to a corner booth. It was only then that she realised Lucas had left. That caused a sigh of relief. 

"I wanted to explain about Millie, and apologise for dragging you into my family woes. It's been a very traumatic year, and she's been such a closed book, so hard to get close to since Jenna - my wife..." he paused for a moment and Carly could see the still raw emotion crossing his face, "since she died." 

He took a moment to regain his composure and Carly was glad of the moment to take stock. This was so far out of her comfort zone, she was a naive girl from a small Scottish village. What the hell did she know about bereavement and children?

Hearing his sigh she looked up and met his eyes, the look there made her wary, but it in no way prepared her for the conversation. "She was killed, by a stalker, some weirdo who'd found out details on her. She was an attorney, and some psychotic..." again he lost his ability to function for a split second. "Anyway, she was attacked one evening, she was bringing Millie to meet me and Mikey from soccer practice. Stabbed fifteen times in the car. Millie saw it all."

Carly was astounded, that poor, poor child. She was unable to contemplate quite how horrendous things had been for a virtual toddler. For a second the room seemed to spin, but she took a few steadying breaths and was glad to find her equilibrium. 

"Oh Paul. That sounds...well, I can't begin to express how I feel..."

Paul half smiled, "I've had better years. In the six months since that day, Millie's barely spoken. I know I've protected her, wrapped her in cotton wool, but it's been so hard. When the therapist suggested a holiday...we used to come here twice a winter...He said it would be familiar to her, remind her of good time. I didn't want to put her into a creche, but I was advised it might be a good move, and she's too young to ski..."

Carly  was still unable to fathom all that was being said, "so did she not talk at all?"

Paul sipped his beer and sighed, "she'd say 'hello', 'goodbye', what she wanted for meals. But if the questions became a little more directed, more purposeful, she'd clam up, drift off into her own world. Have you any idea how dreadful that is as a parent?" When she shook her head, he added, "that's why I want to know exactly what she said to you."

"We made Princess hats," Carly began, "hers was beautiful and I told her. She then told me that her mother had always called her Princess."

Paul gasped, unable to hide the tears that welled in his eyes, "she did! I'd completely forgotten that!"

Carly reached out, squeezed his hand, "then she told me her Mother was in heaven, and that you said she could see everything that Millie did. She wanted to know if that was true." He nodded through the tears as she continued, "I told her that Daddy's were always right, that obviously she could. Then she was happy. That was it!"

Shaking his head, Paul took her hand in both of his, "would you mind if I speak to the therapist? Find out if there's a way to capitalise on everything you've managed to achieve? it may mean embroiling you in things, if I need to speak to your boss I will, I'll pay for your time." He sighed, "I'm just desperate."

Carly was embarrassed, she'd done nothing, she could hardly bask in false praise. This family had been through so much and this was far from the flirtatious evening she'd envisaged, but there was no way she could turn down an offer to help this man who'd had to put his own trauma, losing the woman he loved, on the back burner to help get his children through this.

"I'll do whatever I can, if it helps then that's great."

He bought her another drink, with that out of the way, her cooperation assured, he seemed to relax, become a man, not just a father. He chatted about his previous trips to the resort, they'd been coming in December and February every year since he was at college. They picked the same chalet, the same weeks,  it was familiarity, security, almost predictability that was a stack contrast to his job. He was a broker on Wall Street, and until Jenna was murdered, he'd worked long and erratic hours. He'd barely known the children up until then, and so he'd cut back on work, tried hard to restore the balance to his family. Ironically he'd added, this place, the place he'd loved was proving to be a pivotal part of all that, and rather than seeing Jenna everywhere, feeling haunted here, he felt surprisingly calm, as though she approved.

Carly was touched by the whole story, and impressed with a man who was so open with his emotions, it was then she realised that that was exactly what he was  - a man. Back home her boyfriends had been young, immature, even the males she'd met here had been young, naive, selfish.  

After a pleasant evening, he walked her back to the hotel after the drink, and when they parted at the lifts, he took her hand and planted his lips firmly, yet rather seductively on the back of it. 

"Thanks again Carly, for all your help, but also for listening, and making this a delightful evening."

She'd smiled in an idiotic fashion, unable to deal with this rapid change in tempo. Just as she thought she knew the situation, the grieving widower, the family ties - he goes and mixes it all up again.