Breath Of The Heart

by June, Victoria

  "Yes, fine."

  I felt relieved telling him, but I didn't trust him to let it go. Just like getting Bianca not to press charges, I had a feeling he was going to do something. Secretly if it kept her from bothering me, I didn't care.

  We got home to the smell of butter chicken in my Crockpot. I put on a pot of water for rice and prepped a salad and a vegetarian paella for Genie. She and some friends were going on a weekend shopping trip and she'd already informed us she'd have a quick dinner with us before packing. They'd asked me to come along but Helen and I had our big tennis tournament Saturday and Sunday. She'd been practicing on her own all week in preparation.

  "I was going to invite Brett over tomorrow night," Zach said. "We were going to watch hockey. Why don't we make pizzas?"

  His voice sounded weird, taking on a bit of a higher pitch. "I won't be home until about six. Why is this a big deal?"

  "It's not . . . well, it kind of is. Brett's my best friend and I want him to get to know you."

  I involuntarily frowned. "You can't make him like me."

  "He doesn't know you."

  "All right, I'll make pizzas and hang out for a bit, but I don't want to be a third wheel. And you'll need to do some prep work. I'll leave you a to do list."

  He smiled. "No problem."

  Genie breezed through the door like a whirlwind. "It smells fantastic in here! Are we eating soon? I've got to pack and turn in early because we're on the road at six am. Outlet shopping, here I come!"

  "We'll be eating in about twenty minutes."

  "Perfect. Call me when it's ready."

  And she was gone. Zach and I looked at each other and laughed.

  "So I was thinking," I said, handing him tomatoes to slice, "spring break is coming and I'm going back to Pine Falls for a bit. Do you want to come out for a couple of days and meet Dad and Grandpa?"

  He popped a chunk of tomato in his mouth and gave me a thumbs up. "I'd like that."

  "There will be rules. You'll have your own room and no sneaking around for sex. I'd be mortified if either one of them caught us."

  "I can be on my best behavior for awhile," he said with a wink.

  I plated the food and put out the naan I'd bought the night before. I wanted to learn how to make it, but no time for that. Zach called Genie and we sat down for a meal.

  "Who needs a man when I get an orgasm from this food," Genie said, savoring her paella.

  "Really?" Zach said. "Steve was that bad?"

  "Come on, maybe you're used to it, but eating like this? You're so spoiled. My compliments to Emma."

  "Thanks."

  "Emma, why are you wasting your talents here? Go to culinary school."

  "There's nothing around here. I don't want to be a plane ride away to go to school."

  "What are you going to do instead? Toil in some shitty job you can't stand? Zach talk some sense into her? Besides, once Zach graduates he's not sticking around here."

  "He's not?" That news was a punch to the gut. Zach had one year left. Not once had he mentioned leaving for law school; I'd assumed he'd stay at Western.

  "Dad won't let him get his undergraduate and his law degree from the same university. As we speak he's probably trying to get him into Harvard."

  I looked over at Zach. He was biting down on his lower lip, trying to keep his temper in check. I thought he was going to reach over and strangle Genie.

  "Nothing is set in stone," he said, shooting Genie the death glare.

  "Law school is set in stone. Wherever Zach ends up, there has to be a good culinary school nearby." Had Genie realized she'd upset both of us and was trying to find some kind of bright side?

  "And maybe you could just shut up?" Zach suggested.

  "Oh shit, Emma, did I shoot my mouth off? I'm sorry. I thought you knew." The fun and lively Genie was replaced by an apologetic one.

  "No, I didn't."

  "Why don't you take your dinner and bugger off so that I can talk to Emma," Zach said to his sister.

  She dutifully picked up her plate and disappeared.

  Zach grasped onto my hand. "Emma, it's more than a year away and so much can happen before then."

  "Like what?" I asked, taking my hand away and pushing my half-empty plate to the side. I'd lost my appetite.

  "Despite what Genie says, I may not go to law school. And even if I do, it would only be half a year that we'd be apart. Then you could come out to wherever I am, get a job, go to culinary school, whatever you want. If I get into Columbia, there are a million culinary schools you could go to. I've already checked it out."

  Columbia? Where was this coming from? Why hadn't he mentioned it before? "Or we might not even be together in a year."

  "That wasn't one of my considerations."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because it's so far off. I don't look that far ahead."

  "But everything is already mapped out for you. And I don't even know what I'm doing with my life."

  "Then what's to stop you from coming with me? Transferring out to another school?"

  "Nothing, I guess."

  "I might even end up here. Who knows? But wherever I go, we'll figure it out. I promise."

  "I know."

  "We have so much time to make plans. I don't want you to worry about this."

  "I won't."

  I did feel a little better mostly at the thought of leaving this school and all its horrible memories behind. And he was right. It was a long way off.

  ~~~~~~~

  "Should I stick around and watch?" Zach asked, dropping me off at the tennis club.

  "It's only the preliminaries. Semi-finals and finals are next weekend. That's if we make it."

  He kissed my cheek before I grabbed my duffel bag. "I'm sure you'll make the finals."

  "We'll see."

  I waved goodbye and went inside. Helen was in the locker room, pacing in our usual meeting place. She already had her tennis outfit on and was chewing vigorously on her nails.

  "You're finally here! I was worried you wouldn't come."

  Was I late? I took a quick glance at my watch. I was fifteen minutes early. "You seem a tad nervous."

  Helen stopped. "I am. We have to win. I always meet up with Sally's team and she knocks me out of the tournament every time. She cannot beat me this year."

  Helen was wound so tight I could have spun her like a top. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. We'll have a great time."

  At least I hoped we would. We'd practiced three times a week together and then she came in the rest of the week and played with anyone she could get her hands on. Her obsession with Sally Carruthers was making her crazy.

  "This is the first year there's been sixteen teams. Sixteen! What if we don't win any prize money? I'll feel bad that you worked so hard for nothing."

  I smiled. "Helen, don't worry about it. I got to spend time with you and work on my tennis game. Who cares if we don't win anything."

  She frowned. "I like to win."

  I got that impression.

  I changed and we made our way out to the courts. Round of sixteen started in twenty minutes for the adult ladies side, followed by the adult men. The women's teams were on the court getting in some last minute practice. I scanned our competition. Helen had nothing to worry about, but I didn't tell her that.

  "She's over there, first court, pink outfit," Helen said under her breath.

  I took a look. Sally was a decent player, but not a huge challenge. "Helen, are you sure I'm cleared to play in this tournament?"

  Helen grabbed the only open court and a few balls. "Yes. Trust me, I made sure this was all kosher."

  We warmed up with a simple rally. We then moved on to our serves and that's when I knew something was wrong. I didn't notice at first, mostly because I was focusing on hitting my points, but almost all the other ladies, including the few assembled to watch, had stopped what they were doing to watch me. I was getting
ready for another toss when Helen waved at me to stop, then motioned for me to look over at the other courts. Faces were staring, some in awe, jaws dropped, others mortified.

  Helen jogged over, a wide smile all over her face. "They're all scared shitless. Let's paste them."

  I nodded. I'd have to take something off the serve. My intent wasn't to hurt or humiliate anyone even though Helen was out for blood.

  Our first opponents were Kellea and Bree, two lovely ladies in their mid-thirties. Neither was able to return a single one of my serves and that's after I took some heat off. In the history of my tennis life, I'd never served a perfect game. This new accomplishment did not make me proud.

  And, as predetermined in our many practice sessions, I took any ball that was in my reach. In fact, some of the few points Kellea and Bree made were from Helen overestimating my capabilities. We won the match in thirty-two minutes. Both Kellea and Bree were gracious, but I had a feeling not all our opponents would feel that way.

  The umpire came up to us at the end of the match as we headed off court. "Emma Andrews?" she asked.

  A moment of dread washed over me. She was going to find a way to disqualify us and ruin Helen's dream. "Yes," I said.

  "I remember you. It's been a few years. I umped a few of your matches."

  The boom was about to be laid. Helen's moment in the sun was about to be dimmed.

  "I quit when I was sixteen."

  "I heard. A lot of us were shocked. I'm happy to see you playing again, but aren't you selling yourself short in this tournament?"

  I cringed. "I think so. I've never played in one of these, so I had no idea."

  Mercifully Helen had wandered off. She didn't need to hear all this.

  "I know you're going easy on these ladies, but you want to turn it down at least another two or three notches?"

  "I will. I'm sorry."

  She smiled. "Don't be sorry. Win the damn thing! It will be nice seeing someone other than Sally Carruthers hoisting that trophy. Good luck, dear. And think about coaching. You've got a great game and so much talent. Don't waste it."

  With the umpire gone, Helen returned. "What was that about? She getting us in trouble?"

  "No, not at all. She remembered me from my competitive days."

  "Make sure you take it easy tonight. We have to be fresh tomorrow."

  I muffled a laugh. I was pretty sure I could show up in a full body cast and still win the tournament.

  ~~~~~~~

  "How'd it go?" Zach asked when he picked me up. "That was pretty quick."

  I started laughing, an uncontrollable fit of laughter that had me in tears. Zach watched in bewilderment as I tried to pull it together.

  "I didn't realize the question was that funny."

  I blotted my eyes and composed myself. "Zach, they are all pretty mediocre players. I'm not one to boast, but I could wipe the court with half of them. Honestly, I should be disqualified. It's not fair. One lady I watched could barely serve. She hit three quarters of her serves into the net. When we win – and we're going to win – I'm going to feel like I'm stealing their entry fees. It's not right."

  "That bad?"

  "I served a perfect game. My opponents didn't return a single one of my serves and that's after I took off half the heat."

  Zach chuckled. "I can't wait to be your partner in our summer tournament fundraiser."

  "Let me just say that I'm not proud of myself."

  "I should have stuck around to see this asswhipping. Instead my horrible girlfriend had me slicing mushrooms and grating various cheeses."

  "She sounds horrible."

  "She totally is, but she's great in the kitchen and in another room," he said with a wink.

  "Get your mind out of the gutter, Walker."

  "But it's so fun there."

  "When is Brett coming?" I asked with a swift change of subject. I had to keep to my schedule and he wasn't going to distract me with any fooling around.

  "He said around six."

  That gave me some study time before he arrived. With all my new found physical activity, both with Zach and on the tennis court, I'd fallen behind in my history and English Lit class. I had a history paper due Monday that was only half-finished, and needed to start and finish a book for my Lit class. Mercifully I was up to date in everything else.

  The moment we got home I started the dough and the tomato sauce. The dough had two hours to rise while the sauce had an hour to cook and an hour to cool. I'd start sautéing ground beef and chorizo around five-thirty. My plan was to eat around six-thirty, attempt to ingratiate myself with Brett for an hour then hit the books again.

  "Want to screw around a bit?" Zach asked.

  As much as I wanted to I informed Zach of the evening's itinerary which included him checking on the sauce every half hour and giving it a good stir.

  "That's not nearly as fun as my idea."

  "Sorry, but I have to hit the books."

  My plan went ahead and by the time five-thirty rolled around I'd finished my history paper and read the first few chapters of my English Lit book. Food was a pleasant distraction. I put Zach to work chopping green and red peppers while I tackled the meat. When he was finished, his next task was onions.

  "I hate chopping onions. They make me weepy."

  I rolled my eyes and smacked him in the ass.

  "Miss Andrews, are you getting fresh with me?"

  "Mr. Walker, just get back to work. I'll get fresh with you later."

  Zach buzzed Brett up just after six and went to greet him. I popped my head out the kitchen to wave, like people do when they're being polite. I had no opinion of Brett because I didn't really know him. Zach talked about him a lot, they played hockey and worked out together, but beyond that Brett was a face I barely remembered from the infamous cabin.

  "Want a beer?" Zach asked him.

  "Sure. Smells good in here."

  "Pizzas from scratch, man."

  They settled into the living room while I rolled out dough and put together two different pizzas. I slid them into the oven and grabbed a beer for myself.

  I was about to join them in the living room but stopped. Would it be strange with me in there? What if they were discussing boy stuff? But where else was I going to go? Hide in the bedroom and be anti-social? I decided to go for broke. I flopped onto the recliner no one ever used and pretended that I hung out with them all the time. Six months ago I wouldn't have dreamt of doing something so bold. I listened to the conversation, trying to act natural. The subject was hockey.

  "No way! Mason is not a thirty goal scorer. Maybe twenty, but that's only in a good year. He's not trade bait."

  "Mason and add in that rookie Swede, and you can get a decent goalie," Brett retorted.

  "What have you been smoking? Best bet they get rid of Halstrom and Mason and someone dangles a goalie."

  "Trade deadline already? Time is flying by," I said.

  Brett looked at me like I told him I had three boobs.

  "She watches hockey," Zach added nonchalantly. "Football too. Not a huge basketball fan."

  Brett recovered from the shock and returned to the debate. "Giving up Halstrom and Mason is too much. You can't give up two core defensemen."

  "But Halstrom is always hurt," I added. "Who'd want someone so fragile?"

  Brett's head whipped around to face me again. His brain was computing something before he spoke. "Exactly. She's right," he said cautiously like I'd suddenly attack him with my talons.

  Cue my exit to check on pizzas and set the table since Zach had conveniently forgotten to. As I was putting out the plates and cutlery I saw Brett lean over to Zach and whisper something. Normally I would have been offended, but I decided not to worry or care what he had to say. Besides, if I asked Zach, he'd tell me later.

  I pulled the pizzas out of the oven and let them rest a few minutes. I threw a frozen pie I'd made weeks before into the oven to bake. It woul
dn't be ready for an hour, but I was sure they could wait.

  I moved onto making a salad. While I didn't care if I won Brett over, I knew it mattered to Zach. Had I been too pushy with the hockey talk? I was only trying to make conversation. And if he didn't like me before, was there really anything I could do to make it worse?

  I sliced up the pizza and called them. They jumped to their feet and Brett took a seat while Zach retrieved more beers. Brett took four pieces and piled them on his plate. He didn't touch the salad. He took a bite, then another.

  "Shit, this is good pizza," he said.

  "Told you," Zach said proudly.

  "Any night you're making pizza, I'm free," Brett said, his blue eyes lighting up.

  And then they went right back to hockey talk.

  "You see that hit Pennington took? They say it's an upper body injury, but I heard it's his shoulder and he's out weeks," Brett said.

  "Separation or his rotator cuff?" I asked.

  "I hear it's a separation, but it's pretty bad."

  "If it's a third degree separation, he's torn something. He's out at least six to eight weeks. I separated my shoulder and was out nearly a month."

  "Oh yeah. You played hockey?"

  "Competitive tennis. I separated my shoulder on an awkward fall and it hurt like hell. Thankfully I didn't tear anything."

  "I didn't know you played tennis."

  He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, like I was one of the boys. Kind of. "I quit a few years ago. I still play for leisure."

  "That's cool."

  They went back to hockey talk and I didn't say much else. I threw in the odd comment here and there, but I'd said enough. I think I'd gained some of his respect. They offered to clean up and I went back to studying. Overall I thought it went well.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Emma

  It came as no surprise that Helen and I made it to the finals. Our semi-final competition put up a valiant fight and even returned some of my serves after I'd toned them down to a manageable pace. For the finals on Sunday, the club had pulled out a set of five rows of bleachers and about twenty people had gathered to watch. Even Zach came to check it out.