Thaw
"What is that thing, anyway?"
Frannie asked with a quizzical expression.
"You've never seen one before?"
"Well, no. I don't make it a
habit of looking at other people's... whatevers."
Turnbull blushed at the sly tone in
her voice and tried to explain. "It's a stone."
"It's a rock with a handle."
"Exactly."
"Turnbull, it's a rock. How
can you get so excited over a rock?"
"I'll show you."
Ren stepped up behind her and
showed her how to grasp the handle. He wasn't surprised
when she backed against him suggestively. It was a little game
with them now. Frannie, desperate in her attempts to win
Constable Fraser's affections, had enlisted him to give her "Canadian"
lessons. They had started with facts about Canada and general
information, including intensive lessons on the North West Territory
and the Inuit. Then, they had moved on to hockey, which had taken
more time than Ren had expected. Frannie had trouble grasping the
nuances of the game, or at least that's how it appeared. It
wasn't long before Ren suspected that Frannie just enjoyed watching the
games with him. He didn't mind it much himself because he
realized he quite liked spending time with her as well.
So hockey had dragged on and
finally, Ren decided to devote their Canadian graduate studies on his
passion, curling. He just hoped that all their flirting wasn't in
vain. His greatest fear was that he would teach Frannie too well
and she'd run straight into Constable Fraser's willing arms.
"Now keep your arm straight and
swing it back. Let gravity do the work and bend your knees to
send it sliding down the ice."
"I don't have to slide on my knee
like those guys over there, do I? Because that would totally ruin
these pants."
Ren smiled. "I think that
will wait for a more advanced lesson. First, let's just get
you used to the weight of the stone and the basics."
"Okay, so I just have to put this
on that bull's-eye thingy?"
"The button, yes. That's
basically the idea."
Frannie drew back her arm and let
the stone fly. Turnbull expected the sharp crack of granite
meeting ice, but the stone glided smooth as silk. He was
astonished to watch it stop just on the outer edge of the button.
Granted, they were almost half way up the sheet, but it was still a
nice throw for a beginner.
"You're a natural, Francesca!"
Frannie clapped her hands happily
and beamed. "Just like throwing an iron at someone!"
Ren gave her a look.
"Ex-husband, long story."
"Ah."
"This isn't hard at all."
"Well, curling isn't just a game of
precision. It's also one of strategy, like chess. Here,
let's step over and watch this rink practice and I'll explain."
As he talked, Turnbull got more and
more passionate. He caught Frannie smiling at him strangely and
sputtered to a stop.
"Um, that's all there is to it,
really. I suppose you can't wait to put your lessons to use," he
said looking away.
Frannie looked down and scraped the
ice with the toe of her boot. They were quiet for some time with
only the knocking of stones and the furious sound of sweeping filling
the silence.
"Renfield?"
He looked back at her. She'd
never once used his first name, just as he'd never called her anything
but Francesca.
"Yes?"
Frannie carefully took his hand and
looked up at him with clear eyes. "Could you explain hockey to me
again? I just can't seem to get it."
"If you'd like," he replied
squeezing her hand.
"I may never understand it.
It could take a long time."
She squeezed back.
"I have lots of time, Frannie."
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