by Glenn Parker
The session with the team gave Don a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was nothing like a bull session with a bunch of like-minded guys to make him feel even more a part of the team. The headache that he had felt when entering the café was now only a faint numbness. He had worried that perhaps he had a concussion but that didn’t seem likely now. He looked over at Garry who was peering at his watch.
“About time I shut it down for the night,” he said. “I’m not used to these graveyard hours. Can I give you a lift?”
Garry stifled a yawn. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’m beginning to feel a bit done in myself.”
They made their way to the exit amid the waves and kidding of the remaining team members, the hard- core types who would still be there until the owner kicked them out. Hockey players were a breed apart, incurably dedicated to post-mortems and late hours. The one consolation was that it was Sunday, which gave the nocturnal types a sense of abandon since they did not have to rise at all the next day if they felt so inclined.
Garry lived six blocks from the café in a large basement suite he had occupied for over a year. Don drove along the snow-covered street with more than his usual caution and stopped in front.
“It’s been quite a night, hasn’t it?” Don said. “I haven’t had this much excitement for a long time.”
Garry laughed, looking down at his hands. “Boy, that Fred guy must have a sore jaw if it’s half as sore as my knuckles.”
There was a pause as they watched the snowflakes, which had begun to fall, hit the windshield. Both were reluctant to see an end to a night they would remember for some time. It would be especially memorable for Don for two reasons: the clash with Hank Ferrin both on and off the ice as well as the end of a conflict with Garry. He still couldn’t get over the sudden appearance of his team-mate at such a pivotal time. It was even more surprising considering the animosity that the two had for each other. There was no telling what would have happened if Garry hadn’t appeared.
“Jennifer told me you played for Regina for awhile,” Don said.
Gary sighed. “Did she also tell you I only lasted a month with them?” It was a rhetorical question and Don waited for him to continue. He was genuinely interested in what had transpired to cause the end of Garry’s hockey career.
“I made the team all right,” he continued. “And things were going great for awhile. I was scoring my share of the goals and the guys on the team were a great bunch. Some of them are playing pro now.” He paused and looked over at Don. “But I made one big mistake — I underestimated the coach. I guess I thought I was indispensable or something. Anyway, to make a long story short, I broke training one night with another guy and we got caught. We were out with a couple of girls and had the bad luck of running into the trainer. He lost no time in reporting us and we were sent down the road. No questions asked. It was like a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry,” Don said. “They’re usually pretty strict about breaking the rules all right.”
“I guess I could have gone back the next year if I had wanted to, but I couldn’t really see any future in it. It would have been my last year in Junior and with only one year behind me, chances of being selected in the draft are pretty slim — unless your name happens to be Crosby.”
Garry reached for the door. “It’s time I hit the hay, I guess. See you on Tuesday and thanks for the lift.”
“Thanks for the help. I hope that hand doesn’t give you any trouble,” Don said.
He drove back to the hotel and climbed wearily up to his room. He couldn’t remember being so tired as he undressed and got into bed. He looked up at the ceiling, his mind whirling with the day’s events. The last thought he had was of Jennifer. Still another day had passed and he hadn’t made things right with her. Tomorrow, he decided, would be the day of reconciliation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Don was awakened the next morning by a light knock on his door. He glanced at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock. There was another knock and this time it was accompanied by an urgent voice.
“Don, are you awake? It’s Jennifer.”
Don got quickly out of bed. “Just a minute,” he said. He put on his robe and opened the door. Jennifer rushed into the room.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“You did,” Don said, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. ”But it’s time I was up anyway.”
“I just got a phone call from John Williams,” she said breathlessly. “He’s a farmer who lives out near your property and a good friend of ours. When he was at our house last week, I told him you owned a cabin out near his property. He says he saw a lot of smoke coming from the area of your cabin. The fire engine has already gone out.”
Don came fully awake. “What!”
“I knew you would want to go out. I’ve got my car outside. I’ll wait out there for you.”
Don dressed and raced down the stairs. Mrs. Schafer was walking along the hallway toward him wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “What’s all the excitement?” she asked.
“There’s a fire out on my property. I’ll eat when I get back.”
Jennifer put the car into gear once Don had joined her and they hurtled down the road, a billow of snow following in their wake.
“I hope it’s nothing serious,” she said. “The Bishops are such a great couple.”
“Yeah, it would be a shame.”
They drove in silence for several miles before Jennifer said, “I hear you did pretty well last night. You should be proud of yourself.”
Don touched his face where Hank Ferrin had hit him and winced. It was still painful. “It’s just as well you weren’t there. It wasn’t very pleasant. But it was nice to win just the same even though it was an ugly win.”
He looked over at her. She looked tired and slightly disarrayed as though she had just got up. Considering the time, it was not unexpected. “Thanks for picking me up,” he said.
She smiled over at him. “You look a little beat up. Are you all right?”
“I’ll live…I think. That Ferrin packs an awful punch.”
It suddenly occurred to him that if his cabin had caught fire, Allan and his wife might be without a place to live. And his paintings! The chances of rescuing them seemed remote. He didn’t dare consider the thought of anything happening to them.
Changing the subject, Don asked, “How was the party Friday night?”
Jennifer heaved a sigh and looked over at him. “Oh, it was all right I guess. It was great seeing all the gang again. It was almost like old times. But I wish you had come in. It would have made the evening complete and all my friends were dying to meet you.”
“I’m sorry about that, Jennifer, I really am.”
“Did you get your problem sorted out?”
He nodded. “All worked out.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“I don’t think you’d be interested.”
There was a pause as they both looked out the window. “I know what was bothering you,” she said. “I found out last night.”
He looked at her doubtfully.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“In a way, I don’t blame you for the way you acted,” she said. “I suppose I would have reacted the same way.” She glanced over at him. “But you should have had more faith in your friends. Daddy would never do a thing like that.”
He looked at her in amazement. “How did you find out? I didn’t tell anybody about it — except Allan.”
“The waitress at Dew Drop Inn is a friend of mine. She overheard everything. When she saw you go out, she knew you had heard too. I only wish she had told me sooner. It would have saved a lot of grief and misunderstanding.”
“You can say that again.” He sat considering what she had just said. “I guess you think I’m a dope for believing those two old guys. I should have known better.”
�
��I wish you had told me about it,” she said. “I could have straightened you out on that score. Anyway, it’s over and we can forget about it.”
They had left the highway and were bumping over the little-used road that led to the cabin. The tire marks of the fire engine and several cars made the road easy to follow.
“You’ll be glad to know that Garry and I have resolved our differences. He’s not a bad guy once you get to know him,” Don said.
She smiled. “I know. I was engaged to him once upon a time —
remember?”
They reached the bridge. Several cars were parked nearby. Only the fire engine was parked near the cabin.
Jennifer stopped the car and pulled off the road. They hurried across to the scene of the fire.
Don was relieved to see Allan and Peg standing with a blanket over them, looking at the charred remains. The firemen were still hosing an obviously controlled fire. Garry was talking to Allan. They both looked over as Don and Jennifer approached.
“You had us worried,” Don said. “It’s good to see you alive and kicking.”
Allan looked drawn and tired. Black circles around his eyes and a disheveled appearance completed the picture. He tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed.
“I don’t know what to say, Don. I guess we were lucky to get out alive. I’m really sorry about the cabin. We couldn’t save it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Don said. “The main thing is that you’re okay. What about your paintings?”
Allan shook his head. “Most of them went up in flames. I got some of them out. A few were pretty badly scorched.”
There was little left of the cabin. Its charred interior was completely exposed to the weather. Columns of smoke rose from the remains.
“You look kind of beat up yourself,” Allan said. “What happened?”
Garry laughed. “He tried to hit somebody with his head. Only trouble was, his head wasn’t as hard as he thought it was.”
“Thanks to Garry, I don’t look like a punching bag instead of somebody who ran into a door.” Don paused. “You two know each other?”
“Heck, we played hockey together,” Garry said. “Why didn’t you tell me he was living out here?”
“I didn’t expect to know anybody from Fairmore,” Allan said. “I was surprised when Garry showed up this morning with the fire engine.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about a place to stay,” Garry said. “There’s lots of room at my place. You can stay as long as you like.”
“I hardly know what to say,” Allan said. “Everybody’s been so kind to us. We don’t know how to thank you. I feel badly about the cabin. Next spring I’ll build another one for you — that’s a promise.”
Some of the other players had moved closer to the group and stood listening to what Allan was saying.
“Well, I can promise you the hockey team will be out to give you a hand. We’ll have another cabin up before you know it. We hockey players have to stick together. Right, guys?” Garry said.
There was an enthusiastic agreement among the players. “Maybe we can put on an exhibition game and use the proceeds to buy the logs,” Benny Jukes added.
“I’m sure Jess Abernathy would give you a good deal on cement and lumber,” Don said. “He’s pretty good that way.”
Allan shook his head. “I’m overwhelmed. I never expected this kind of treatment. It makes me feel as though what happened this morning was a blessing rather than a stroke of bad luck. I mean look at all the friends we’ve made, a whole hockey team.”
“It’s just too bad your paintings were burned. A cabin can always be rebuilt, but it’s pretty hard to replace a work of art,” Don observed.
Allan nodded. “The place was getting kind of cluttered anyway,” he said good-naturedly. The others laughed. “Now I can make a clean start. Some of the paintings I lost should have been burned anyway.”
Don was amazed at Allan’s state of mind. How could anybody who had just lost over a year’s work make a joke about it? It certainly attested to his strength of character.
Jennifer was quiet on the drive back to Fairmore as Don discussed the turn of events in Allan’s life. Finally, she said: “I can’t get over the change in Garry. I haven’t seen him this enthusiastic about anything since…well, since we were going together. It was marvelous to see.”
Don glanced over at her. “Maybe helping someone else is what he needs instead of sitting around moping over his own problems. Who knows, maybe he’ll even stop drinking.”
“I think he already has,” Jennifer said. “He told me he hadn’t taken a drink for over a week. And for him, that’s really something.”
Jennifer dropped Don off at the hotel. He was hungry and went straight to the kitchen. Mrs. Schafer was just putting the dishes away.
“I saved you some bacon and eggs,” she said. “I hope the fire wasn’t serious.”
“I have a cabin on some property I inherited from my dad. It burned down. Some friends were living in it, but they weren’t hurt.”
“Thank goodness,” she said. “Sit yourself down and I’ll bring your breakfast in.”
When she reappeared, she said, “I almost forgot. There was a man here looking for you. He said he would be back later on.”
Don looked up. “Oh? What did he look like?”
Mrs. Schafer’s face took on a look of concentrated thoughtfulness. “Hmm…let me see. He was about fifty I would say. Tall, brown hair. The burly type. I’m afraid I’m not very good at describing people. He was a stranger to me.”
Don tried to think of who it might have been. It was obviously not somebody from Fairmore. Mrs. Schafer knew almost everybody in town. Well, he would no doubt find out soon enough.
After he had finished breakfast, he went up to his room. He still felt tired, worn out from the night before and lay down on the bed. It seemed he had hardly closed his eyes when there was a knock on the door.
“Brush!” Don exclaimed when he opened the door. “What are you doing down here?”
“Well, if you invite me in, I’ll tell you. How are things going?”
“Considerably better than the last time I talked to you,” Don said, pulling out a chair for Brush to sit on.
“That’s good to hear. You’re ready to come back to Saskatoon then I guess.”
“Is that why you’re here? To try and talk me into coming back.”
Brush laughed. “Of course. The team’s making its southern swing. We played Regina last night. Tomorrow night we play Weyburn and then on to Estevan. Since we are in Weyburn, I thought I would hop down and see you. I’ll probably never get a better opportunity.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” Don said. “But I think I’ll be staying here for the rest of the season. Things are working out pretty well. I’d be letting the team down if I walked out on them now.”
“I see,” Brush said. “Naturally I’m disappointed. But there’s more to my trip than that. If you remember, I mentioned on the phone that if you didn’t play junior this year you would be passed over on the draft. Well, the scouts will be making their reports on us in the next few weeks. If you were to join us now, you’d have a chance. Otherwise…” He made a hopeless gesture.
Don stared out the window. He knew Brush was right. Playing away down here in an intermediate league was like burying himself — digging his own grave. And next year he would be too old for junior. He would be destined to obscurity and have thrown away everything he had ever wanted and worked for. Of course, he had known that when he made the decision to come to Fairmore. It was a tough decision to make but he knew that he had made up his mind. There was no way he was going to let his team down. Not now when things were beginning to go so well.
“The answer’s still no,” he said. “I know I’m crazy, but I’ve made my decision. I’m sorry.”
Brush sighed. “So am I. I was hoping you would say yes so I wouldn’t have to do what I’m going to do now.” He looked at the floor and then
up to meet Don’s gaze. “I’m going to have to insist that you come back, Don. The only reason we let you go was because you told us you were through with hockey. Now that you’re playing again, the situation has changed. You’re obligated to play for us.”
“You mean you’re going to force me to come back?” Don asked incredulously.
“I’m afraid so. It’s for your own good. You’ll thank me for this later on, you’ll see.” His voice somehow lacked its usual conviction.
Don stared at his former coach. “I didn’t think you would do this to me, Brush. I thought I knew you better.”
Avoiding Don’s stare, Brush stood up. “I’m going over to the restaurant for a coffee. When you’ve thought about what I’ve said, come and join me and we’ll talk things over.”
Don sat back on the bed, his head spinning. He felt as though he had just lost a good friend.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
For an hour after Brush left, Don sat considering every possible means of frustrating his ex-coach’s attempts to get him to rejoin the team. Finally, he put on his jacket and walked the block and a half to the Dew Drop Inn. He knew that it was pointless to try and change the mind of a man like Brush. If there was one quality that the man possessed in abundance, it was stubbornness.
When he entered the café, he saw Garry and Allan sitting with Brush in the corner. As Don approached them, Garry looked up. “Hey Don, look who I found. Would you believe it?”
Don gave him a half smile as he sat down beside them. “Hi Allan,” he said, ignoring Brush. “Where’s Peg?”
“She’s over at Garry’s. She and Jennifer are fixing up the apartment. They asked us politely to leave so they could get some work done. I guess we know when we’re not welcome.” A smile creased his broad face.
There was an awkward pause as Garry looked from Don to Brush. “Anything wrong?” he asked. “You two don’t seem too friendly for a couple of old buddies.”
“It’s my fault,” Brush said. “My trip down here isn’t a social one, I’m afraid. I’ve come to tell Don that he’s to report back to the club as soon as possible.”