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But he was cautious now. What if he jarred something and that caused the cancer to come back? It wasn’t logical, but the fear was there all the same. And he wasn’t sure how long he could cover it up.
Troy rushed through the cool-down, and was in his street clothes before a lot of the players were even out of the showers. He couldn’t deal with anyone else getting on his case right now.
Unfortunately, he ran into starting goalie Mike Reimer’s wife, waiting for Mike to come out. She was a redhead with thick glasses. She and Troy hadn’t ever gotten along that well. The first time he met her she’d reamed him out for a play on the ice. Another time she’d checked him onto his butt when he made a comment about her hockey skills.
She’d ended up helping the team during the playoff run. Following the hip check she’d given him, he’d scored a breakaway goal in the first playoff game. It had ended up becoming a good luck ritual, with players lining up for the privilege of having Bridget knock them down, but she and Troy never became friendly.
Today she studied him intently as he strode out of the locker room. Not a good sign.
“Good to see you back, Green,” she said. She wasn’t completely convincing. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes squinty.
“Good to be back,” Troy answered.
“Feeling okay?”
Troy eyed her suspiciously. “Are you asking to be polite or is there a reason for asking?” he asked. Bridget had never been one for small talk.
Bridget grinned. “I was trying to be tactful, but I’m not very good at it. I was watching you play, and I wondered if you’d rushed back too quickly.”
Troy suppressed a smile. People had been wondering about that since camp began, but they had all approached the matter delicately. Bridget had always been blunt.
“Did Mike tell you to ask me?”
Bridget squinted at him again. “Mike doesn’t ‘tell’ me to do things. I asked him how you were doing.” She paused.
Troy didn’t want to play games. “And what did he say?”
“He didn’t. So something was wrong.”
Damn. Troy had hoped no one had noticed.
“It’s just the start of camp. Guys aren’t in game shape yet,” he said defensively.
“I understand why the others are being a little careful checking you, but I don’t understand why you’re being so...hesitant. Everyone expected you to come out, I don’t know, mad. You lost a year, but instead of taking it out on the ice, you’re skating around as if you’ve got eggs in your pockets.”
Troy took a step toward her. He was a big guy, and when he wanted to, he could be pretty intimidating. Bridget planted her hands on her hips and set her jaw.
“I’m going to say something,” she began, “and you can take it or leave it. But it’s not something anyone here will tell you. I had a swimmer last year who had cancer. He got through it, but he decided against returning to swimming. There was no shame in it. He just reprioritized his life. If playing hockey isn’t what you want, you can retire.”
Troy gaped at her. Retire? Was she crazy? He wasn’t going to retire. He was going to play. If she had wanted to anger him, mission accomplished. If they wanted him to go out and plaster someone into the boards, just get Bridget to do her motivating speech before a shift, and he’d be set.
“Are you doing psychotherapy now, Bridget? Am I supposed to break down and spill all my problems?” Troy mocked.
“Please, no. I’d need months of therapy myself if I ever got into the mind of Troy Green.” She shuddered.
Troy frowned. She was looking at him with that “poor you” expression that revolted him. He wanted to divert her, quickly. And a perfect distraction popped into his head.
“I do have one problem you might be able to help me with.”
“Girl trouble?” Bridget asked, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
Troy wanted to refute that vehemently. He didn’t have girl trouble, and if he ever did, he certainly would never discuss it with Bridget. Just the thought of it made his hair stand on end.
Then he considered. “Well, it’s kind of girl trouble.”
Bridget made a face.
“It’s about a kid.”
“You have a kid? Say it’s not so,” she said with surprise.
That jolted him. Had she found out he couldn’t have kids...? No, she couldn’t. That wasn’t something he’d shared with anyone. Focus, Green.
“No. It’s my neighbor’s kid. She’s a girl, and plays hockey. Well, she did before they moved here, but her mother can’t afford it now and I wondered if you knew any way to get money for her to play. I asked the team’s management, but they don’t have anything they can set up at this point in the season.”
Bridget looked puzzled. “What about her father? And if they live near you, how can they not have enough money?”
“Father’s dead—war vet. But they’re keeping that news to themselves. And I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I’m sure they don’t have money. They’re house-sitting for my neighbor. I don’t think they’re paying rent.”
“Why don’t you just pay for the kid’s hockey? I heard about that endorsement you signed. Surely you can afford it.”
“Of course I’d pay if I could. But the mother wouldn’t go for it.” Troy could imagine Michelle’s reaction if he made that offer.
“How old is this girl? And what’s up with you and the mother?”
“Kid’s twelve, and nothing’s up with me and Michelle.”
“Is the girl any good? And are you sure the mother wants her to play?”
Troy remembered Michelle’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure money is the problem. And Angie, the daughter, tells me herself that she’s good. According to her, she’s going to be the first female skater in our league.”
Bridget smiled at that, and Troy caught a glimpse of why Mike liked her so much.
“Why don’t you bring her and—Michelle, was it?—to the game on Sunday? Let me talk to them, find out what they need, and I’ll try to think of something.”
“Yeah, that might work. There’s a boy, too.”
“Do we have to get him into a league, as well?” she asked sarcastically.
Troy shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to like hockey.” Troy thought of the way Tommy watched him. “He’s a little odd.”
Luckily, Troy had succeeded in distracting Bridget enough that he was able to get away from her without any more talk about how he was playing.
And doing something for Angie made him oddly happy. For some reason he hadn’t been able to shrug off the girl’s situation. Maybe because when he bumped into her in the hallway, she looked like a kicked puppy. Maybe because he remembered growing up, poor, moving around...if he hadn’t had hockey, it could have gone badly. He thought Angie might need hockey to give her a strong center to her life.
He remembered how he’d felt when he was afraid he’d never play hockey again. He’d been afraid cancer would take that away. And it still could...there were no guarantees. He didn’t need the reminder of that in Angie’s eyes.
He realized he was going to have to be more aggressive on the ice, too, if he didn’t want the coaches to start asking questions like Bridget’s.
Damn cancer! It had taken all it was getting from him.
* * *
MICHELLE STARED AT the results from her first bookkeeping test, fingers clenched around the ring on her necklace. She heard the other students talking around her. “Oh, I got that first question confused!” and “I had the amortization right but I really messed up the Allowance for Doubtful Accounts.”
Unfortunately, she had gotten everything wrong. She felt nauseated. How could she have messed up so badly?
“Hey, Michelle, how’d you do?” Rin asked.
After two weeks of classes, Michelle had gotten to know some of the other students. She, Rin and two other students now hung around together at classes and lunch.
She thought of the four of them as the island of misfit toys. She was older, and had kids, so she wasn’t the typical student, and the others weren’t, either. Boni was a refugee from the Côte d’Ivoire. She was in her late twenties and still coping with learning English. She was great with numbers, though. She rarely made a mistake on her assignments. Unfortunately, the language barrier prevented her from explaining to people like Michelle how she arrived at her answers.
Khali was supposed to be taking this course to help her husband once she was married. Her mother had made it clear that she would not be working after the wedding, but understanding the books was key to keeping her future husband in line. Khali didn’t worry about her results, since her future was set. Instead, class was a chance to get away from a very protective and strict family.
Michelle wasn’t sure why Rin was taking the course. He understood some concepts brilliantly and flaked out completely on others. He was more interested in finding a girlfriend than learning the material. Michelle and Boni were too old for him, and Khali wouldn’t consider him seriously, but he stayed with them. He called them his “pretty ladies” once. He didn’t try it again.
Rin often talked about parties they should come to, but Michelle couldn’t since she was home with the kids. Boni was too busy with her part-time work as well as courses, and Khali had neither the time nor inclination. Still, it was nice to be invited, and she felt less alone when she was attending classes and tutorials with them.
Michelle shrugged at Rin’s question about her test results.
“I may have to drop this course,” he said. “I just don’t get it.” Rin shook his head.
Michelle didn’t have that option. She had one year before she had to support herself and her kids in a new city, and she needed this certificate. But she didn’t want anyone to know how desperate she was.
“Well, I’m going to have to go back over this material,” she said. “It’s just the first test, though, right?”
Rin grinned at her. “Wanna come to the bar tonight? We can drown our sorrows. Boni? Khali?”
Michelle forced a smile. “Sorry, got the kids. Have one for me.”
Khali rolled her eyes at Rin, and Boni shook her head gravely. Boni slipped away, and Michelle waved goodbye to Rin and Khali as he continued to try to convince her to come out with him.
Michelle caught the subway and headed for the school. Tommy’s class had taken a field trip to a conservation area today, so Angie had been allowed, after repeated persuasive arguments to Michelle, to go home on her own. She’d texted earlier that she’d made it safely.
Angie had gotten over her initial anger about missing hockey, but she was still sullen whenever she remembered it. She said she was keeping up with her homework, but Michelle was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Angie loved hockey so much...would being without it mean she’d start acting out, get failing grades, fall in with a bad crowd?
Michelle waited at the school till the bus arrived with Tommy and his classmates. Every day Michelle hoped to see Tommy with a friend, but once again, he got off on his own, head down. Michelle blinked back the tears. She wondered if this move to Toronto had been a huge mistake. What had she been thinking?
It was a quiet walk home. When they arrived at the condo, she asked Tommy if he wanted to push the button on the elevator, but he just shrugged. Michelle’s shoulders bowed, and she wondered how much more she could take.
She heard Angie’s voice as the doors opened. She glanced down the hallway and sighed.
Angie had taken to haunting their neighbor. He was her contact with hockey, and a star, and she cornered him every chance she got. Michelle was going to have to talk to her about it. The guy was being nice, but he probably had to be nice to fans as a member of the team. Eventually he’d get tired of it, and she couldn’t afford for him to go to the condo board and complain about her and the kids.
“So who’s your favorite player?” she heard Troy ask.
If Michelle had asked that question, she’d have gotten an eye roll. But for Troy...
“Bruce Anders,” came the quick response. Michelle’s mouth twitched. If Troy had been hoping to hear his own name, he didn’t know kids, especially her daughter. Her daughter wouldn’t recognize tact if it hit her with a hockey stick.
“But he’s not even on the Blaze. I thought we were your team,” Troy objected. Troy was standing in his doorway, undoubtedly hoping he’d be able to slip inside soon and have some privacy, while Angela hovered halfway between the two condo doors.
“The Blaze is my Toronto team. I’m from Winnipeg. The Whiteout is my real team.”
Troy glanced up at Michelle and grinned. At least he wasn’t taking it too personally.
“Angie, is your homework done?” Michelle asked. She hated being the heavy all the time, but she had to get her daughter away from the poor man she’d cornered. She wouldn’t embarrass her daughter by explaining that she was bothering Troy in front of him.
Michelle got the expected eye roll. “I know the rules. I have to do my homework after dinner, before I can watch any TV.”
To her surprise, Troy sided with Michelle. “You do what your mom says. Hockey players have to listen to their coaches, you know.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t help as much as he might have intended. The sulky expression returned to Angie’s face. “I don’t have a coach.”
“Your mom is your coach. You go get that homework done.”
He waved at Michelle, and then was able to escape into his own place.
Michelle opened the door to their condo, and the kids followed her inside. It was Friday, the night they ordered in, giving Michelle a break at the end of the week.
Michelle dropped her backpack on the floor. Tommy switched on his video games, as he did so often after school.
Michelle could never decide if it was worse to let him handle grief on his own terms, using the games as he needed, or if she should intervene. The kid had so little in his life, it seemed. His Tae Kwon Do was his only interest outside video games. Next year, she swore, when she wasn’t tied up with classes, she was going to find something for him to do. Maybe he’d like to play guitar. Or swim. Something.
“So what do we want to order tonight?” she called out, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. Thank goodness she didn’t need to cook.
Angie shrugged, and draped herself over the recliner. Michelle had to call again to Tommy to get his attention, and he said pizza. Pizza was his standard choice.
Michelle was getting tired of pizza, but she didn’t have the energy to come up with an alternative and talk them into it, so she called the familiar number, and placed the usual order.
“Angie, come help me empty the dishwasher,” she called.
Angie dragged herself over, doing an excellent facsimile of a martyr dragging herself to the stake.
“You were talking to Troy again,” Michelle said.
Angie shrugged. Michelle kept her voice level with effort.
“I hope you’re not annoying him—”
Angie straightened, eyes flashing. “I’m not stupid, Mother. I’m not annoying him. And you can refuse to let me play hockey, but I’m not giving it up, and I’m not going to stop talking to Troy just so you can pretend I’ve forgotten about playing!”
Michelle stared at Angie.
“Hon, I know that you’d sooner give up your cell phone than hockey, but bothering Troy isn’t going to help you play. If I had the money...”
“Sure. Whatever.”
