Run to You

by Ginger Rapsus

“I have my car right outside,” Brandon offered.

  Greta took her mother’s hand. “I drove from work. Ma, can I drive you home?”

  “You don’t think I’d take a ride from this big fellow. All banged up. What happened, Brandon? Did you get into a fight with a cop?”

  Brandon held up the sports section of the paper so Greta’s mother could plainly see his picture. He pointed to his picture, then to his face. “That’s me. I got in a fight last night. My fight made the papers.”

  Greta’s mother grabbed the paper.

  She stared at Brandon.

  “You are…you’re dating my…”

  “You bet, Ma. He invited me to a team dinner, and to a game, and that was last night. And now he’s here, offering to help you and take you home and get out of here.”

  Greta’s mother couldn’t take her eyes off the tall hockey player, still handsome even through his beat-up face. For once, she was speechless.

  “Here, Ma. I can take you home.” Greta opened her car door. “Do you want to go home, or come to my place, or…”

  “I want something to eat. I’m starving. And I want to get home in time to watch my program. There’s a young lady on Jeopardy that reminds me of you, Greta. She’s a pretty little blonde and said she’s an artist. You’re an artist, too.”

  Brandon smiled at the older woman. “Did Greta always like art?”

  “Oh, you bet she did, Brandon. She drew all kinds of pictures, even in kindergarten. And she was good at modeling clay. When she was in first grade, she had an art teacher that gave them projects to do…”

  Greta knew what was coming. “Ma, he doesn’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do, Greta.” Brandon looked at Greta’s mother with his big blue eyes, and turned on the charm. “That’s really interesting. She was talented at a young age, was she?”

  “And you should have seen what she made, Brandon. I know I still have it somewhere. She tried to copy the statue of David from an art book…”

  “Ma, Brandon is a hockey player. He isn’t that interested in…”

  “Greta, you never knew I was an art lover. So tell me about this project, Mrs. Patton. Was it true to life?”

  “Brandon, it was so realistic, the art teacher wanted to put pants on the statue!”

  Greta’s face grew hot.

  “This statue was so true to life, Brandon. I shouldn’t tell you this, but it had what they call realistic anatomy. You know those baby dolls that have…”

  “Ma, Brandon never played with dolls. He’s a hockey player.” She tried to change the subject, but that rarely worked with her mother. “When Brandon was young, he put on his skates and…”

  “And it was funny, Brandon. Greta was so involved in art school, she didn’t go on a date till she was almost sixteen.”

  “That’s interesting, Mrs. Patton.” Brandon winked at Greta. “Maybe I could take you out for a late lunch, and we could talk some more.”

  “Oh, thank you, Brandon, but I want to go home. I have some roast beef and Swiss cheese in the fridge. I hope it’s not stale. I always check the expiration dates.”

  Greta practically dragged her mother into her car. “Okay, Ma. Let’s go. Brandon might have practice. The season is winding down, and the playoffs are coming.” Brandon held the car door open for Greta’s mother and helped her in. “Don’t forget your seat belt, Mrs. Patton.” He looked at Greta. “I’ll call you. Real soon. We have a lot to talk about.” Greta saw a dozen little devils dance in his eyes.

  “Did you ever get your car fixed, Ma?”

  “Yes, I certainly did. And you know what, Greta? They didn’t give me that guy who kept checking his fly!”

  Brandon burst into a hearty laugh.

  The lineups for the Stanley Cup playoffs were set. After a long eighty-two game season, the Quebec Voyageurs wound up with the best record in the NHL, the President’s Trophy, and the first seed in the East. The Ice Bandits were second, and the Washington Capitals third. And in the West, the top seeds were the San Jose Sharks, the Vancouver Canucks, and the Los Angeles Kings.

  The Ice Bandits got the Columbus Blue Jackets in the first round. Fans picked the Bandits in four games straight, although Columbus was much improved and would be tough. And after all, it was the playoffs, a whole new season.

  All the guys were pretty banged up at this point, including Brandon, but it was time for the playoffs. Mike DeBerry still had his “lower body injury,” as they called it. Mike said it was his right knee, but wouldn’t go into much detail.

  True to his word, Brandon called Greta. “I didn’t know your mother was such a character.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Brandon. I am so sorry. And you came all the way to the Oak Lawn police station to hear her talk about my art project.”

  “That’s okay. I want to see her again. I promise I won’t keep checking my fly.”

  Chapter 13.

  “Greta, your mother is the funniest person I have ever met. And I know a lot of characters, believe me.”

  The hockey player and his favorite girl sat across from each other in a small restaurant near South Side Precious Metals. They made a strong effort to spend some time together during the heat of the playoffs. Between Brandon’s practices, morning skates, team meetings, and—oh yes, playoff games in Columbus—they managed to find time to have lunch this afternoon.

  The Ice Bandits made the fans’ predictions come true and polished off the Blue Jackets in four games straight. Next up were the Detroit Red Wings. Although the Ice Bandits had home ice advantage, the Wings won the first two games in overtime.

  Brandon sipped his iced tea. “Maybe someday, if I get to know her better, she’ll show me that art project.”

  “Come on, Brandon. I don’t think she saved that.”

  Greta grabbed her big black purse and looked through its contents. There were her keys. There was the key to Brandon’s place, that he’d given her soon after the Banquet. And her old wallet.

  “I’m paying for lunch, Greta.”

  “Oh…thank you. I was looking for some paper. I keep my notes in my purse, and I wanted to be sure I had them.”

  Brandon looked into her purse. “That’s some file system you have.”

  “Come on. When I’m in a hurry, I just stuff everything into my purse. This one customer is so demanding. I spent hours doing fancy engraving on this bracelet for her daughter, and she’s not satisfied.” She stopped looking through her purse and took a bite of salad. “Is anyone ever satisfied?”

  Brandon looked at her face.

  “I am as happy and satisfied as anyone could be. I hope you know that.”

  “You love your game. I can see it means so much to you. And you have good friends, like Zach…”

  “And a good friend I can have lunch with and talk to.” Brandon wasn’t one to get too personal, especially after what Terri did, but he had to tell Greta how he enjoyed her company. It meant a lot to him to be able to get away from the pressure of his game and just relax for a while. Even a short while.

  Their lunch lasted barely an hour. Brandon had another workout at the Arena plus a team meeting. And Greta had plenty to do. Business was beginning to pick up after the incident with the old man and the 1932 gold coin. And besides her ongoing projects, and her co-workers’ projects, more people were coming in to sell their items. Steve, the coin expert, heard a rumor that a longtime customer had a box full of old gold coins to sell. Everyone in the area knew the story of the rare gold coin, and many dreamed they’d hit it big too. Mr. Blakely was even starting to smile more.

  Greta and Brandon lingered at the door of South Side Precious Metals. He drove her back to work, and then he’d drive to the Arena.

  “We don’t spend enough time together,” Greta complained. “I know you can’t control it, but…”

  “We’ll make up for it after this is all over. I promise you.” He kissed her, and kissed her again.

  “No one can see us here.” Greta pulled him closer.

&nb
sp; Finally, they separated. Greta went back to work, and Brandon drove to his place. He had to check his mail and make sure the place was still there. He wasn’t spending much time in his own apartment anymore, except maybe for a quick shower and a bite to eat. He didn’t shave, of course, not during the playoffs, and his playoff beard was growing every day.

  He practically lived at the Arena now.

  When he wasn’t spending the night at Greta’s.

  Brandon made a mental note to leave Greta tickets for the next game against Detroit. He wanted her there, to see how good he played and how great the Ice Bandits were. He saw her work. She could see him work too.

  God, this place needs a good cleaning, Brandon thought as soon as he walked through his door. The whole place needed a good dusting, and a thorough vacuuming. Dishes sat piled in the sink and on the counter. A jacket lay on the couch; shoes and socks were scattered everywhere.

  And the bedroom. Brandon wondered if a colony of insects had taken up space under his bed. He hadn’t changed the sheets in ages. Everything stopped during the hockey season, including keeping up with the housework. Sometimes he called a cleaning lady that Vyto had recommended, but Brandon hadn’t gotten around to calling her lately.

  Brandon picked up an odd shoe, and started looking for its partner. He looked near the nightstand, the chest of drawers, and then at the bedpost nearest the window.

  He saw something shiny at the foot of the bedpost.

  Could it be…

  Brandon bent down and picked up his missing gold ring.

  His ring, his grandmother’s ring, had been in his possession all along. All this time, he already had what he’d been looking for.

  Perhaps he had something else he’d been looking for, too. A good woman to wear that special ring.

  He pondered that as he drove to the Arena.

  Brandon was met at the entrance to the dressing room by Coach Jock and one of his assistants. “Have you read the paper, Taylor? See who’s in the news now.”

  Coach handed him the day’s Sun-Times. Then Kyle came up to him with a Tribune. “Do you know this girl?” He pointed to a picture on page three.

  The story about the old man, the gold coin, and the jewelry designer who personally escorted him to the biggest coin dealership in the area made both Chicago papers, and according to Coach Jock, even got a mention on national news.

  Brandon sat in front of his locker and read the newspaper articles, over and over again. He kept staring at the photo of the jewelry designer too. Greta hadn’t mentioned anything about this during their brief lunch together. She seemed more concerned about him and his hockey games, if he was eating enough and taking care of himself.

  Greta, his girl Greta, did that old man a big favor, maybe the biggest favor of his life. His gold coin was worth a hundred thousand dollars, or more. It would be sold at an auction.

  He heard that some of those coin shops, antique shops, whatever, just took everything they got, and if they found something rare and valuable, they cashed it in and kept the profits, without a word to the person who’d sold it to them.

  Greta didn’t do that. She made sure this man got what his coin was worth. She could have made a big profit, but she did the honest thing. She did the right thing. And she didn’t even mention it during that crazy day when they got her mother out of jail.

  How trustworthy could such a person be?

  Brandon thought about that as he dressed for the game. He thought about a lot of things.

  People let you down all the time. Fans were fickle. Your old girlfriend cheated on you. Your childhood hero turned out to be an old grouch. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was your good friends and teammates, the wonderful game of hockey. But most of all, what mattered was having someone special to share it all with. The funny and the sad, the joys and the losses, and the weird stuff you just had to laugh at.

  A special person, who had her own life and her own interests and a brain in her head. A special girl who was trustworthy, who made sure an old man got full value for his rare coin. And who said she’d pick you up at the airport at goddam two in the morning, and showed up, even though she had to work at her job the next day.

  Greta Patton was his special someone. He knew that now. And he was sure as can be. He had that same warm feeling the first time he entered the Ice Bandits’ locker room and saw his name on the back of his sweater. He knew this was where he belonged, what he’d always wanted.

  It was time for him to unpack his suitcase, once and for all, and be home. Make a home with Greta Patton, the pretty and devoted young woman who taught him to trust again. He trusted his teammates, of course. That was what the game of hockey was all about.

  But now he trusted a woman who loved him.

  Once the Stanley Cup Final was over—and hopefully, the Cup in the hands of the Ice Bandits—he’d tell Greta everything he wanted to say to her. As soon as they had a minute alone, he would give her that gold ring, and ask her to marry him and spend her life with him.

  But there was still hockey. They had to get past the Detroit Red Wings. Tough as always, Detroit took the first two games of their playoff series into overtime, and won both of those games, even though the games were here, in Chicago. The Ice Bandits were down two games to none, and faced them again tomorrow night. Soon, Brandon and the other Ice Bandits would be on their way to Motown, to face a hot team and their devoted fans.

  He figured he’d let the apartment go, until the playoffs were over. The place would be clean in case he brought the Stanley Cup home.

  The day the guys left for Detroit, Brandon was not aware of the person who entered his apartment, carrying a tote bag filled with items. The lights went on, and that person went to work.

  Chapter 14.

  Brandon could hardly drag himself into his apartment.

  What a series. What wild games. Now the Ice Bandits were down, three games to two, with Detroit. They were lucky to win two out of three in Detroit, on the road, and the Wings had some fiercely devoted fans too. And Game 6 was tonight at the Arena, in front of the home crowd. The Ice Bandits had to win tonight, to stay alive, and then win another game.

  He had to get some sleep. Even a short nap would help. Eating would come later. Worry about the game and workouts could come…

  There was someone in his apartment.

  Was he hearing things?

  Brandon snapped wide awake as he listened at his front door.

  Something crashed to the floor.

  “Who is it? I know you’re there.” His heart sped up. Was it a robber? Or some goofy fan who wanted a piece of his pillowcase?

  “Jesus God, Brandon! When was the last time you swept your kitchen floor?”

  Greta Patton came out of the kitchen, wearing cutoffs and an Ice Bandits shirt. She held a broom and dustpan, which was filled with dust bunnies, crumbs, and a piece of bread crust.

  “You…you’re here.”

  Greta dumped the pan into a garbage bag. “I wanted to surprise you. You’d find the place clean when you came home. And I know you did well.”

  Brandon looked around at his apartment. It was so clean he almost didn’t recognize it.

  Besides the clean kitchen floor, a week’s worth of dishes were washed, dried and put away. The countertop and all appliances sparkled. Everything was dusted, including the dining room table with its detailed work. The bathroom was spotless; the mirror on the medicine cabinet shone. His bedroom was immaculate; even the sheets had been changed. The rug, after a thorough vacuuming, looked like new. And the laundry basket was empty, for the first time since Brandon moved in.

  “What…what did you do?”

  “What didn’t I do?” Greta brushed her bangs out of her face. “I cleaned this place from top to bottom.”

  Brandon kept looking around at all of the rooms, as if he were moving in for the first time. “Why…?”

  “Brandon, that’s what friends are for. I figured I’d do you a favor. You get me tickets for
games. You take me out for lunch. So I owed you a favor. I know you’re busy with your games, so I cleaned your place. When would you have the time to do all this?”

  He couldn’t believe it. He never could imagine Terri, or any other of his girlfriends, cleaning his place and vacuuming. Even scrubbing the sinks, and by God, the toilet. When he gave his other girlfriends tickets, they expected even more perks.

  Not Greta. When she wasn’t creating something beautiful, or picking him up from the airport, she was doing him the favor of cleaning his dirty apartment.

  “I had no time to cook you a meal,” Greta explained, “so I picked up some fried chicken. It’s in the fridge.”

  Brandon checked out the chairs in his clean kitchen. She had dusted those too. “Thank you, Greta. Thanks so much.”

  “Here, let’s take a break. I’ll wash my hands and dig out some of that chicken.”

  While Greta went to the refrigerator, Brandon sat down on his couch and fell asleep immediately.

  Greta fixed a paper plate for him with a few pieces of chicken, cole slaw and a biscuit. She ate her portion quietly, letting him sleep.

  Suddenly Brandon opened his eyes.

  “Don’t let your chicken sit too long. It tastes better cold, just out of the fridge.”

  Brandon picked up a leg and ate it quickly. He took a forkful of slaw, and bit into a meaty chicken thigh. “Thighs are the best part. Wings are overrated.”

  “You can do a lot with chicken thighs. You can make a good meal with…”

  “I knew a girl who couldn’t cook at all,” said Brandon, looking down at his plate. “She always wanted to go out to eat. Expensive places, too.”

  “It’s nice to know how to cook. My mother taught me…”

  “And the day I won my Olympic gold medal, I found her in bed with another man.”

  Greta stared at Brandon.

  “I cared about her. I trusted her. And then, that happened. That gold ring I lost was for her. I planned to give her that ring, that same night.”

  “Brandon. I am so sorry.”

  She let him talk, and she listened.

  “I met her at a charity event. She was helping out. Now that I look back, I think she wanted to meet an Ice Bandits player. She spent more time socializing than she did actually helping with the event. She talked to me and flattered me. And she was pretty. She sweet-talked me and made me feel like I could rule the world. She went with me to all the team dinners and things. But she didn’t go to many games. She said she didn’t like hockey. My career, and she didn’t like it.