Page 9 of Coast to Coast

“I do. My dad would bring us to as many Minutemen games as possible when we were kids. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about hockey, so I won’t be able to explain much to Crew while we’re at your games.”

“That’s fine. He won’t pick up much more than the social aspect right now. I have plenty of time to teach him the rules of the game,” I said, my mind wandering to the image of teachingmy boy how to skate and then watching him grow into his own on the ice.

When the National Anthem was sung, we taught Crew to take his hat off and stand still. A few people in the stands recognized us at the game, and I watched as fans took pictures of Crew.

“Are they taking pictures of us?” Calliope asked, ducking her head towards me as she tried to ask the question privately.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten used to it. Since the news got out, we became people of interest. Sam always got attention, but people seem extra interested now that our story is tabloid-worthy,” Kelsey explained with a shrug.

In the last year, Kelsey has, as women usually do, taken the brunt of the heat in the press. Sam and I were portrayed as unsuspecting heroes who had been manipulated and trapped in her supposedly tangled web. One brutal article portrayed her as a woman desperate enough to try to trap me in a relationship, and when that failed, she sunk her claws into Sam. Yes, the phrase sunk her claws was used in the article.

“Do you get recognized while you’re out?” Calliope asked, directing her question towards me.

“Not that often, maybe before and after the games and occasionally when I’m out with the other players. Once that happens, there is a chain reaction. But the Blizzards are a much smaller market than Boston, and it’s only my second year. I mainly only get recognized when I’m with these guys,” I gestured to Kelsey and Sam, who had just taken the mound.

“Even in Boston, Sam and I can still find some anonymity. We can go running and visit small coffee shops; he even sat in a sports bar and wasn’t recognized. It’s the normal things people don’t expect us to be doing,” Kelsey explained.

Kelsey did her best to give Crew play-by-play, and to his credit, he paid attention to his mother as well as any toddler would.

“Did Monica share the preliminary schedule with you?” I asked, still worried that something would happen to disrupt our plans. Calliope seemed a little too good to be true. Yes, the color-coded masterpiece we showed Calliope at her first interview was a great visual. Still, Monica always went further as she managed our electronic calendars. Our schedules were so tightly managed that she even blocked out time for us to pack.

“She did but warned that the playoff schedule might impact it.”

“Yes, mainly because my doctor doesn’t want me to fly after October,” Kelsey explained. “They’re in first now, and while they will almost definitely make the playoffs, anything can happen in the post-season. I might still be able to make it to the games if they are driving distance.”

I could see the tension in Kelsey’s jaw as she contemplated the postseason. Pre-season for hockey started in September, with our first regular season game at the beginning of October, with very few breaks for me until April. Sam would be home with her when the baby was born, but she’d be alone a lot this fall. As well as Kelsey had handled as a single mother before meeting Sam, anyone could see how Crew’s energy level had been taxing her.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ll have me. I’m great at road trips, too. Our family took a yearly vacation to the Outer Banks, and my father always insisted on driving. I’m good for at least twelve hours,” Calliope assured Kelsey. “How does Crew handle long rides?”

“Well, he was better before he started walking. But he’s a travel baby. He’s flown more miles in his short life than I did in my first twenty years,” Kelsey said.

The crowd jumped to their feet, cheering as the Minutemen’s catcher, Carlos, hit a home run, adding some security to Sam’spitching outing. Crew took on the crowd's excitement, clapped, and cheered along with us.

As Calliope flawlessly managed Crew, chatted comfortably with Kelsey, and impressed me, I relaxed, finally seeing that things would work out for us.

CALLIOPE

Whelp, I was officially a nanny. The ink on the contract had dried, and now I headed to my parent's house for a family dinner with Juno and PJ. I armed myself with what I hoped was a believable lie about being hired as part of the Colorado Blizzards' social media team.

Did my parents love me? Yes. Did they want me to be happy? Yes. Would they support me becoming a nanny? Probably not. They knew me well enough that accepting this position would not have been my first choice. Doesn’t every parent want their kids to get their first choice?

When I told my father what had happened with Zander, it took hours of me begging him to stay out of it. He had mutual connections with some executives with whom I had completed my internship, and as any overprotective dad would do, he wanted to solve my problems.

He probably would have gotten the decision reversed and maybe even had Zander fired. But something strange happened as I watched what I’d thought were my dreams go up in smoke. I’d realized that it wasn’t what I wanted after all. If only that realization had come with the blueprint plans of what I did want to do, then I’d be golden.

When I arrived at our quiet neighborhood in Concord, MA, I noticed a ton of activity at the top of the street. One of the homes was undergoing a major remodel. It had recently been for sale and must have changed hands. Knowing the family who lived there before, it was a beautiful home with lots of potential, but very few people would love the house “as is.”

I pulled into our circular driveway, parking behind Juno’s BMW as PJ’s Jeep stopped short behind my hand-me-down Lexus.

“Hey,” I called him quickly as we rushed towards the house. We were both late, and while my mother loved and tolerated most of our mistakes, punctuality was a non-starter.

“Did you get stuck in traffic because of that accident?” PJ asked, already prepping some bullshit excuse and feeling out if I would help him in his lie to Mom.

“That’s not going to work this time. And no, I’m not lying about an accident. Remember how that worked out last time?” Our mother had deemed the accident as not a valid reason for being late, reminding us we should plan for all eventualities.

And once she’d found out that we made it up? Let’s say the woman could hold a grudge. PJ and I were made to wait for dinner until everyone else finished. By then, the food was cold, and we’d had to endure more than a few comments on the value of punctuality. After eating our dinner cold, we earned dishwashing duty while Juno propped her feet up and watched.

Dad opened the door and gestured for both of us to hurry. “Lucky you, your mother just got a call from her editor. She has no idea you guys are late,” he said as he shooed us into the kitchen.

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