Page 105 of From Ice to Home
“Everything alright?” he asks, without looking at me. It dawns on me that he must’ve seen me leaving and maybe assumed something was wrong with Lucas.
“Everything is fine,” I say, adding a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to wish him good luck. This is a big game for him.”
Cal Walker doesn’t take his eyes off the ice. At this angle it’s obvious that Lucas is the spitting image of his dad. But where Lucas has laugh lines and quiet strength, his dad has silence, pride and the weight of the past written in his expressions.
It’s been hard for him losing his wife, and then having Lucas leave home. A part of me always felt fine with him blaming me that Lucas left. If that’s what he needed then I’d happily be that for him. But now we’ve turned over a new leaf. And I want to have a good relationship with my father-in-law.
“His mother knew he’d get here,” he says. “She knew it the moment he first saw the Hurricanes play. He came home and slid around on his socks like he was skating. She said she’d never seen his face light up like that.”
Hearing him talk about how Lucas first fell in love with the game has a smile on my face. Looking down at the ice, the team is all on the bench. Standing as the national anthem starts. The rest of the arena stands too as the anthem echoes through the arena.
On the jumbotron the camera moves through each player as they rest their gloved hands on their sticks, their heads bowed with quiet reverence.
We then take our seats watching as Lucas takes the first face-off, squaring off against the Canucks center.
“He’s happy that you came to watch him play,” I say, wanting him to know how grateful Lucas is. He hasn’t been able to fully show his dad how much this means to him, but I want him to know. “It really means a lot to him.”
Cal Walker’s jaw tightens for a second. “She should’ve been here instead of me. Grace drove two, three hours to make sure he got ice time every week. She encouraged him, made sure he had all the gear, everything. By the time she was gone, Lucas took his future into his own hands.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I didn’t know Lucas’s mom as well. I knew her from church, but Lucas and I only started dating after she passed away.
“His mother had a way with him,” Cal continues quietly, “because once Lucas gets something in his head, he gives it everything he’s got.”
On the ice, there’s a fierce battle underway. The Canucks aren’t giving the Rangers a lot of space on the ice to finish their plays. At least their forecheck is solid, and from the looks of things, Declan is keeping up his discipline despite the Canucks baiting him whenever they can.
“Sounds like he got that from you,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “You have a vision for your family, for your business, and when something threatens that, you fight for what you believe in.”
“Perhaps,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s hard when his vision doesn’t align with mine. I’ve been handed a legacy and I wanted to hand it over to my boys, day by day. But he chose hockey since he was little…and then he chose you. That hasn’t changed. He’s still giving it his all.”
I can imagine what it might feel like for him, to think your life would look one way and then it all changes and it’s like it’sgetting away from you. You have no control over the life you’re living.
“Lucas has always been driven,” I say, looking at Cal Walker and the grey streaks peppering the hair along his temples.
He’s dressed in a plain button-down and sturdy dress pants. There’s no Ranger logo in sight. It’s a quiet stubbornness, like he’s refusing to fully step into this city, into the hockey world. He’s a farm man at heart, and showing up here is already pushing his limits. This isn’t his home, and he’s holding on to that in every small way…even in what he wears.
“But he’s also a man who loves his family and his home,” I add. “He has a very real love for Georgetown, for the family farm, and I know that Lucas wants to come back home one day.”
Mr. Walker’s mouth tightens. “He would’ve stayed if you stayed.”
“I know,” I say, gripping my drink. “That’s why I had to leave. God had a different plan for Lucas and I didn’t want to stand in the way of that.”
He turns toward me, a frown between his dark eyes. “You think this was all a part of God's plan?”
“I do,” I say, my voice sure and certain. “Do you think Lucas would’ve been here without God’s blessing? Without His help and guidance?”
Mr. Walker turns back toward the ice. The whistle blows and the ref skates up to the red line. “Two minute penalty to the Rangers. Too many men on the ice.”
On the jumbotron they’re showing a replay of how the line changes happened too slow, how Lindgren didn’t get off the ice quick enough and played the puck while the second line was already on the ice.
“They’ll have to kill the penalty,” Mr. Walker says, shifting slightly in his seat. “Lucas is a good two-way player, he’ll get it done.”
There’s pride in his voice and I send up a silent prayer to God that he’ll be able to show Lucas one day that he’s proud of him. That he’s always been proud of him.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, turning to me. “I know my son will be happy with you. He’s always been grateful to have you. And Iamglad that he found someone to build his life with.”
Tears fill my eyes and I quickly glance away. “Thank you, Mr. Walker.”
The crowd goes insane, drawing our attention to the ice. The Canucks are in the zone, driving hard on their powerplay. Mitch and Declan are stationed close to the net, sticks low on the ice to make sure they can sweep any puck away before it even gets to Nikolai.
