Page 23 of Family First
Volunteering to be an assistant coach for the Chesterford Coyotes seemed as if it was a step in the right direction in finding out what I wanted the shape of the rest of my life to be outside of family.
I wish Stan could be there with me.
ChapterEleven
STAN
“But, Papa, Dad is already committed to the hockey team, and our soccer club is really desperate for someone.”
I looked up over my e-reader, my glasses on my nose, to find my middle child giving me her best sad Puss-in-Boots face.
“They are so desperate for a coach that you come to me?” I teased.
Margo’s face fell. “No, no, Papa, no! You were the first choice!” She wiggled onto the sofa beside me, her ponytails dangling down on either side of her slim face, the very image of a pleading cherub. “I told Coach Nancy that you played soccer as a young boy and before every game when you were a Railer.”
“I am still a Railer, Margo,” I explained patiently. Perhaps if I said it often enough, even I would start to believe it. Being on LTIR was frustrating. My therapy was not moving at the rate anyone wished it to be, and while I was now mobile, I was still not on skates. Halloween was in two weeks and here I sat, reading a spooky gay romance novel as my team—with the new addition of the young goalie with the good hips—Lincoln Hearth from Illinois—were off to a great start of a new season.
“Well, yes,” she replied sheepishly, tucking her legs under her backside to sit on her heels. I used to be able to sit like that. Now I doubted I would ever be as bendy as I used to be. “But you are sitting out for months yet. If you could fill in for the fall and winter seasons I know by spring they’ll have someone else, and you can go play hockey if you’re still able.”
I wanted to tell her that I would be able, of course I would, but deep down in my heart I had massive doubts. Also, and this was a niggling thing that was growing bigger every day, I was starting to enjoy being home with my husband and children. Mama now had more time to enjoy her golden years with Erik off the roster. We had a trip planned for over the holidays, a journey to California with the children to visit Disneyland then play in the ocean for a few days.
The Railers were facing off with the Storm, just one of two times the teams met. Usually, I would be in net but now, for the first time in years, I could enjoy family time. It was appealing, and each day found me less and less keen to return to the game. I’d not spoken of this to anyone yet. It was unlike me to be so indecisive. Perhaps I would discuss it with Galina when she and Arvy arrived for the first home game of the year where the Railers had a goodbye event planned before the game with the Rebels. A montage for Erik, filled with memories of his days playing hockey, images of him and me, the children, his work with local charities. It would be a nice thing and he was thrilled to be honored in such a way. The fans were saddened at his announcement but had rushed to buy tickets to the game.
Would the fans be sad if I said I were leaving? Would the team create a nice montage for me when I left? If.IfI left.
“Papa, are you checking your eyelids for holes again?”
I snapped back to my child. “No, I was walking in the sheep pasture in my head cutting the wool.”
“So, about soccer coaching?” she wheedled, her lower lip hanging out so far, a parrot could have landed on it.
“Fine, I will step in for a short time but—”
She squealed then launched herself at me, hugging me so tight around the neck I asked if she were trying to put me into the famous Roddy Piper sleeper hold. She giggled, kissed my cheek, and then ran off to text her friends. I expected a call from Coach Nancy any second. Smiling to myself, I sat back, adjusted my glasses, and then heard Erik coming in with the pack from a light run around the local dog park.
Tags on collars jangled as the dogs filed into the living room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with Erik bringing up the rear looking exhausted.
“Good thing I talked you out of taking them. King spotted a squirrel and that led to a dog stampede where several pooches leapt the fence,” he said as he dropped down beside me, his curls a mess but his cheeks pink. “It was bedlam. Mrs. Minerva, the fortune teller who lives down the street with her son Mike the investment manager, was totally unprepared for her Yorkie— Tittles—to break free of the enclosure. Which makes me wonder how good of a clairvoyant she is if she didn’t know about the doggie prison break in advance.”
“She told me that my life would change in a bigly way at Mike’s last neighborhood barbecue.”
“Well to be fair, Stan, that’s kind of vague. She also told me that I’d discover a long-lost relative who wanted to help me write a screenplay about a porcupine that tap danced.”
“That is not vague at all,” I pointed out as he toed off his sneakers then turned to face me. I’d built a nice fire to counter the cold air of fall. My knees ached badly as soon as the temperature dipped below fifty. Those joints were also shot from hockey, but I was not ready to have them replaced yet. I’d been so long just getting to the point where I was almost back to normal that the mere thought of going under the knife again gave me bad dreams.
“No, but it’s not happened yet either.”
“Perhaps it will. Premonitions do not come with expiration dates,” I reminded him while the dogs padded around then settled in front of the fireplace on the big hearth rug. “Margo asked me to coach her soccer team.”
“Oh?”
That was all he said. I waited but he didn’t speak again.
“Is that all your words?”
“I just…” He rolled his lips over his teeth before speaking. “Okay, so this is just my two cents, and you can take it or leave it.”
“I will never leave your pennies,” I assured him.
