Page 87 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

“I know it’s the right thing to do. But could you come along for moral support?”

“Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“Wish me luck,”Chris whispered to me, before he rose from the pew. He straightened the dark tie he was wearing with a slim-fitting navy suit and snowy white shirt. He looked both sombre and absolutely gorgeous. Although the business side of things was wrapping up, we hadn’t yet had a chance to talk about us. If there was an us.

Chris walked up to the front of the church and cleared his throat. He looked calm up there, despite the huge congregation. The place was packed with people of all ages. He grasped the podium with both hands. No notes. No net.

“Hey.” He smiled out at the audience. “When Coralee asked me to do this, I almost turned her down. I mean, I only knew Noah for a few months—all of you knew him longer. I’m sure that most of you knew him for his whole life.

“But then, I figured, well, I did get to know Noah at the end... and maybe I could express what he was like then. How brave he was. No, brave doesn’t even cover it.

“We talked a bunch. He used to ask me stuff about hockey. Like, what’s it like to be in a fight? Does it hurt a lot?”

Chris shook his head. “You can’t lie to a kid who’s got terminal cancer, so I never did. Yeah, it hurts when some 250-pound guy starts swinging at your head. It hurts like heck. Well, maybe I used a different word with Noah.” A few people chuckled.

“But it didn’t hurt near what he went through every single day. I won’t lie and say he never complained. His mom and dad know that he had plenty of beefs—like not being able to sleep, or getting lumped in with younger kids, and the food. Man, if Noah could have eaten burgers and fries for breakfast, he would have.” More laughter.

“He was human, like all of us. He wasn’t a freaking saint. It’s not like cancer transforms a person. But it tests you, like hockey tests you. Noah’s tests came way earlier than most of us get tested, but he kept pushing through.”

Chris paused here. I could see the emotion welling up in him, the way it had on that rainy night he came over. Our eyes met, and I smiled at him.

“So many things are unfair about Noah dying. I’m no poet, so I won’t list all the things he didn’t get to do. But of course he told me how much he wanted to play hockey. He had dreams of scoring the big goals too. I really regret that I never knew him while I was still playing, so I could have scored one for him and brought him back the puck.

“Y’know, I think we met when we did for a reason. Noah told me one thing that just about broke my heart. He said he felt bad that he was dying before he had done anything. That he hadn’t accomplished much.”

“That’s just bullshit. Oh, sorry about the language... and in a church too.” He shook his head, and a few people chuckled. “But when I met Noah, I was feeling so sorry for myself. My back problems were so bad that I had to quit playing hockey—the only thing I’d ever done and ever wanted to do. I felt down and frankly, useless.

“But you couldn’t be around Noah and feel sorry for yourself. Meeting him was one of the things that turned me around. I’m still getting to work in hockey, and my attitude is positive again. So, maybe it’s not a big deal in the scheme of things, but Noah changed my life.”

People around me were nodding and more than a few were sniffling. Chris’s magnetism amazed me. He had captured the whole congregation with his straightforward words. He was a leader.

“So, if he could change my life in a few months, I’m sure he did much more for you. As you go on with your lives, think about Noah and remember what he was like and how he lived. He can be an inspiration for all of us. And we can say to him, ‘Noah buddy, you were wrong. You accomplished a ton.’”

I blinked hard as I scrambled to find a tissue in my handbag. I could only see the backs of his parents’ heads, but his mother’s shoulders were shaking. I was pretty sure she was weeping.

38

Flying

Amanda

“Are we going home now?”I asked.

Chris had one hand on the wheel as he steered the Range Rover along the highway. He looked much more relaxed now. The weight of doing the eulogy must have been heavy, despite how gracefully he had spoken. Then afterwards, so many people wanted to talk to him, and he had been infinitely patient. We were among the last people to leave the service.

“Nope. We’re going on a little trip.”

“Where?”

He flashed his contagious grin. “It’s a surprise.”

We drove to the tiny waterfront airport in Richmond for small planes. He parked the car and unfastened his seatbelt.

I protested, “Wait. We can’t go away—like far away. What about our jobs?”

“The team is on a road trip. Greg and Nancy can handle everything. Besides, it’s Friday. People relax on the weekend.” He got out of the car, and I followed him.

“But—” There were only a million reasons why this was ridiculous. I settled on the most practical. “I’m wearing a black dress. I have no luggage.”

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