I Joined My Dead Sister's Curling Team, and Her Widower Joined Me novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Sheet Three

At five in the morning the curling club was dark except for the lights over sheet three.

Nils Haugerud stood alone on the ice in his big down parka, flooding the surface with a hose.

He did not hear me come in.

I stood at the viewing window of the warm room and watched him for a while.

He was six foot four, and he moved slowly and carefully over the ice.

The hose hissed, and a thin layer of water spread out behind him, shining under the lights.

Dale had said Nils wouldn't ask.

So I walked out onto the cold concrete behind the boards, and I waited until he turned.

He saw me, and the hose dropped out of his hand.

"Britt," he said.

His voice was low and soft, and it cracked on my name.

"Dale said you'd be here," I said.

"Dale talks too much," he said.

He turned the water off at the valve and wiped his hands on his parka.

His face was red, and it was not from the cold.

"Come in the warm room," I said.

"It's only a minute to finish the sheet."

"I'll finish it for you later."

He followed me in.

The warm room smelled of coffee and varnish.

Gunnar had built the couch himself for the club, a long low sofa of oak and cushions under the big viewing window.

Beyond the glass the sheet lay shining and empty.

I stood in front of the couch and turned to face Nils, and he stopped a few feet away with his arms at his sides.

He had a windburned face and soft brown eyes and blond hair flattened by his hat.

He was a ski patroller who pulled strangers out of snowbanks, and he looked at me with his hands held away from his sides.

"I haven't," he said.

"It's been two years. My wife left, and I didn't, I haven't done this since."

"I know," I said.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know you won't," Nils said.

"I'm scared I'll do it wrong."

"Then I'll show you," I said.

I took his hand.

It was huge and rough and cold, and I lifted it and pressed it to my cheek.

His fingers curled around my jaw.

"Britt," he said, wonderingly.

"Right there," I said.

I stood on my toes and kissed him.

He was very gentle at first, barely touching, his lips soft and dry on mine.

Then I opened my mouth against his, and he made a low sound in his chest.

He kissed me back with a slow, deep hunger that went on and on.

His hands moved over my back.

They were so large that they covered me from shoulder to hip.

I pulled his parka off and let it fall.

Under it he wore a flannel shirt, and under that a gray thermal.

I peeled them off him layer by layer, until his chest was bare in the dim light.

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