The Razors were playing the North Carolina Cardinals, the defending Gordie Cup Champions and her brothers had been talking about the matchup for weeks.
Violet’s parents’ lived in a two-story colonial in west Red Valley where they had lived for their thirty years of marriage and raised their four children. It was a lovely house with a rusty-red brick façade, shutters framing the symmetrical windows and an immaculately manicured lawn. Each homey touch was the result of Violet’s mother who constantly felt the need to convince the world, including their neighbors, that they were the great all-American family.
Perfect families didn’t include daughters with wandering eyes, so Violet pushed all thoughts of Jace McQuaid out of her mind and decided not to tell her brothers about meeting him. She hated to think what her family would think of her if they knew that she’d almost kissed him.
Violet found her brother Brayden in the living room watching the pre-game show. The room was decorated in warm blues and taupes and filled with comfortable furniture. Framed photos of Violet and her brothers at varying ages were clustered on every available surface.
Her mother was probably in the kitchen doing what she did best: whipping up a four course meal for her precious boys. If it were up to her mother, Violet would be a stay at home mom with a brood of children of her own tugging at her apron strings as she cooked her growing family a “proper” supper. Anything less was a disappointment and Janie James had no problem voicing such shortcomings to her daughter.
The truth was Violet didn’t want kids and all the angst that came with them. She just wanted to bring relief to the elderly through massage and have a loving man to come home to. Preferably a man who didn’t continually brush her off and have rotating personalities. Somehow, someway she’d made a terrible mistake when she’d promised herself to Phillip.
“Where’s Dr. Phil?” Brayden asked around a mouthful of chips.
“Work.”
Brayden nodded and turned his attention back to the TV. Brayden, the oldest, cared about two things. The family business and hockey.
Violet settled next to her brother on the couch, grabbed one of the chips out of the bowl he was holding and shoved it in her mouth. Patricia had begged her to “squeeze” in another appointment and Violet hadn’t had time to eat lunch. That was the third time this week.
“Where’s Tan?” she asked, looking around for their brother.
“He’s running late.”
Tanner was rarely on time for anything. Even hockey. Their mother often joked about how he was even a week late when he came into the world.
“How’s the massage business?” Brayden asked, only half paying attention.
“Good. Pats knows a guy at the Razors who’s going to start sending us some players.”
“Awesome. You ever see Sebby, tell him to keep that leaky five hole shut.”
“He can’t stop every puck, Bray.”
“No, but he can stop the ones comin’ at his own net.”
A few minutes later when the chips were almost gone, Tanner blew into the living room like a hurricane. He looked haggard and much older than his twenty-eight years and Violet instantly felt bad for him.
Where Brayden was muscular with dark close-cropped hair and the body of a lumberjack, Tanner was lean with light hair. Violet, Tanner and Jeremy all had their mother’s light hair and features and Brayden took after their father. Tanner and Jeremy could have been twins and Tanner probably wished they were. Jeremy had become a rock star virtually overnight while the rest of his siblings were left in Red Valley to be ordinary.
Tanner had tried out for and made it into the minors, but tore his ACL and was never the same. Now, the only hockey Tanner played was in the community league, but it wasn’t the same. Violet made the one-time mistake of reminding him that it was better than not getting to play at all. That angered him and he proceeded to rant about how the community league was full of old-timers, cripples and has-beens.
Violet wondered how different his life might have turned out if he hadn’t been injured. He would have gone on to play in the UNHL and become a star player. She knew Tanner felt the pressure to succeed, but instead of rise to the challenge, he found solace at the blackjack table.
Brayden, on the other hand, was perfectly happy working at James Auto Body for the rest of his life and playing hockey without getting paid for it.
“Jeez, brother,” Brayden said after taking one look at Tanner. “You look like shit.”
Tanner might not have deserved the harsh description, but he certainly looked like he’d been up for a few days straight.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and collapsed into a chair.
“Another all-nighter at the casino?”
Tanner ignored his older brother and acknowledged Violet with a nod.
The whole family knew Tanner spent too much time at the casino in Baker’s Bluff, but no one said anything about it. Most likely they were in denial about his gambling problem. Violet’s mom probably secretly hoped he’d meet a “nice girl” at the casino who was ready to settle down and start a family. Anything to finally get a few grandbabies from her children.
“I coulda used you today with that Pontiac tranny,” Brayden scolded his younger brother when the broadcasters went to commercial.
Tanner took a long pull of Brayden’s beer and swallowed. “I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Better be. And get your own beer.”
“I’ll get it,” Violet offered and rose from her seat.
She left her brothers to glare at each other from across the living room. She couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t butting heads. The fact that they chose to work together at the shop was a mystery even to Violet.
She found her mother in the kitchen pulling a tray of cookies from the oven. The kitchen was Janie James’ fortress where a home-cooked meal and a glass of two percent milk chased troubles away. Oatmeal cookies soothed heartaches and skinned knees and her mother’s secret recipe for chicken soup cured the common cold.
Violet didn’t have to open the cupboards to know her mom had every spice and baking ingredient known to man. Janie James was a modern day June Cleaver. She prided herself in having four successful, if not semi-successful grown children, a spotlessly clean house and three square meals on her table each and every day. She had been the perfect hockey mom when Violet was growing up. Between shuttling her boys to hockey practice and Jeremy to music lessons, Janie had kept her hands full.
Unfortunately, Violet was somewhat of a mystery to Janie. Much to her confusion, her only daughter had set out to prove that she could have a fulfilling life without PTA meetings and team mom snack duty.
Violet remembered a fight she’d had with her mother in high school where she called her mom old-fashioned. Janie had proudly defended herself and proceeded to rant about how she’d worked tirelessly to provide Violet and her brothers with food on the table and clean clothes to wear to school. Since then, the two James women had agreed to disagree. Some times more loudly and hot-tempered than others.
She might not know exactly what she wanted in life, but Violet knew for sure that she didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps. One of the perks—probably the only perk—of getting engaged to Phillip was getting her mom off her back. It worked for a while until Janie started harping about grandchildren.
Violet’s family was thrilled about her engagement to Phillip. Phillip had gone to high school with her brothers and they were still friends. When Phillip went away to med school, her brothers went to work at the family auto shop, James Auto Body. Violet’s parents absolutely adored Phillip—what mother wouldn’t love the idea of her daughter marrying a doctor?—and Violet couldn’t bear to disappoint them by voicing her doubts about her relationship with him.
“Hey, Mom,” Violet said and walked over to inspect the chocolate cookies on the counter.
Janie’s graying brown hair was pulled back in a twist and she wore mom jeans and a cable knit sweater. Th
e apron tied around her waist had pictures of hockey players printed on it in bright blue. Even though gray hair was usually determined by genetics, Janie blamed the gray on her four kids every chance she got.
“Violet!” Janie’s face spread into a smile and then she immediately looked over Violet’s shoulder. “Where’s Phillip?”
“Work.”
Her mom’s face fell. “Oh. That’s too bad.” Janie frowned at her daughter’s work clothes. “Did you work late today?”
“Yeah. Pats did some advertising and we’ve had a lot more business coming in.”
Janie pursed her lips and slid a fresh batch of cookies into the oven. “You should start thinking about quitting your job altogether. I’m sure Phillip makes a good enough living to support the both of you.”
“Mom!” Violet’s face contorted and she blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m not quitting my job.”
“Why not? You’re going to be a doctor’s wife after all.”
Violet shook her head in disbelief.
“Well, maybe you should think about it. That way you don’t have to worry about working during your pregnancy.”
Violet gasped. “There’s no pregnancy! And there isn’t going to be one.” Violet didn’t even want children. At all. Sure, they were fun to be around for a couple hours, but that was plenty enough for her. Despite their track records, Violet hoped one of her brothers would finally tie the knot to help take the pressure off her. Jeremy traveled non-stop with his band and Tanner and Brayden were happy bachelors. Yeah. No help there.
Janie made a sound that resembled “we’ll see about that” and Violet scraped her hand over her face. This was unbelievable. She’d been in the kitchen all of two minutes and she was already contemplating sticking her head in the oven.
“Where’s Dad?” Violet asked and went over to retrieve a beer out of the fridge for her brother.
“In the garage.”
The fridge was stocked full of Gatorade, milk and juice, but no beer. Violet knew there’d be some in the old fridge they kept in the garage and she wanted to say hi to her dad anyway. Escaping the ridiculous and infuriating conversation with her mother, Violet slipped out the door that led from the kitchen into the garage.
The garage was Dale James’ fortress. Like the kitchen, everything in the garage was organized to perfection. Tools were neatly displayed on hooks and every last nail, bolt, and screw was separated in its own container. The smell of grease and rubber reminded Violet of her childhood and the days spent watching her dad teach her and her brothers all about cars. “Take care of your engine and your engine will take care of you,” he used to tell them.
Dale was the rock in the family. He provided the much-needed balance to Janie’s overbearing ways and sometimes outdated thinking. He made a decent living restoring old cars so that Janie was able to stay home and raise her children the way she wanted to.
Violet bit back a sudden wave of emotion. The realization that she could’ve lost her dad to cancer still shook her to the core. That kind of loss would have destroyed her mom, not to mention her three brothers. What would they have done without him?
Violet let out a ragged sigh. It was the one thing she would always be indebted to Phillip for. She’d been given a second chance to not take her father for granted—not that she ever had—and she would never forget it.
Whether they were piddling around in the garage or working on a project for the house, Violet always felt more comfortable around her father. It beat baking in the kitchen with her mother and listening to her endless lectures about a woman’s place in the home.
Even though she’d been around cars her whole life, Violet never felt the desire to work on them for a living. Maybe she should have just out of spite. Oh, her mother would have just loved that!
The body of a ’68 Pontiac Firebird sat next to Janie’s aging minivan. Despite the fact that her children were grown, Janie insisted on keeping the oversized vehicle for when her future grandkids spent the night with Grandma and Grandpa. Not gonna happen, Violet thought, reflecting on her and her brothers’ non-relationships. At least not in the foreseeable future anyway.
The Firebird was just a frame and an engine, but it was coming along nicely. Dale had spent his life lovingly rebuilding and selling classic cars. The same way her mother could pull a MacGyver and whip up a meal in the kitchen out of virtually nothing, Violet’s dad could take a skeleton of a car and transform it into a vintage masterpiece.
Although her brothers both drove classic muscle cars, Violet preferred something more modern for herself. Besides running out of gas the one time, the Jetta had been reliable. But that didn’t stop her brothers from giving her a hard time for not wanting a classic. They said it looked bad for business and promised to give her a good deal on a ‘Stang or a ‘Cuda.
On the far end of the garage, Dale was bent over the tool bench with a screwdriver in his hand. His hands were calloused and rough from working on engines his whole life. When they didn’t smell like grease or oil, they smelled like the gritty soap he washed them with.
“Hey Dad,” Violet said gently, careful not to startle him.
He looked up from the birdfeeder he was tightening the screws on and smiled warmly at his only daughter. The hair her mom kept cut short had started to gray at the temples, but he was as handsome as ever. His green eyes were the same brilliant hue as her own.
Violet went to him with open arms. He always gave nice strong hugs that made everything feel right in the world again. Today she needed one of those hugs in the worst way.
When he pulled back and squeezed her shoulders Dale asked, “How are you, pumpkin?”
“Good.”
“Where’s Phillip?”
“He was called to the hospital.”
“Anything serious?”
“Emergency hernia surgery.”
Dale nodded in approval. “He’s a good man, Violet. You did good.”
“Yeah,” she agreed halfheartedly.
Her father studied her face and frowned. “You look tired, sweetheart.”
Violet smiled weakly. “Thanks, Dad. You really know how to make a girl feel good.”
He gave her shoulder a pat. “Is Patricia working you too hard?”
“It’s paying off, though,” Violet answered with a shrug. “We have more clients than ever.” Hockey players, too, she thought to herself. And I almost kissed one of them and I don’t feel as awful about it as I should, she wanted to confess.
“Why aren’t you inside watching the game?” she asked. Hockey was always a neutral topic with her family. Except when it involved Jace McQuaid, she thought wryly.
“Oh, your mother’s been hounding me to fix this birdfeeder from the backyard.” He tightened a loose screw on the bottom and set the screwdriver down. “And I figured I ought to stop putting it off. She seems to think that all the birds in August County will starve to death without it,” he griped.
Violet heard the love in his voice and smiled to herself. Her father might pretend to complain, but she knew her parents were still deeply in love with each other even after all these years. A long-term marriage was a rare thing to find these days and it made Violet question her relationship with Phillip all the more. Phillip couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her unless they were around other people now. How were things going to be between them twenty years from now? Every time she tried to talk to him about their crumbling relationship, he brushed her off, changed the subject, or started talking about her father. And that just made her feel guilty for doubting him in the first place. Because if it weren’t for Phillip…well, Violet hated to think what would’ve happened to her father.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, punkin’?”
“Are you disappointed that I haven’t given you grandkids yet?”
He chuckled and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Your mother’s been yappin’ at you again, hasn’t she?”
Violet shrugged like it didn’t bother her. Disa
ppointing her parents ranked up there with the Razors not making the payoffs every year. Disappointing, yet inevitable. Violet hadn’t become a rock star, she didn’t want kids and she hadn’t provided anything newsworthy for her mother to put in the annual family Christmas letter. One colossal disappointment after another.
“I’ve never been disappointed in you a day in your life, Violet,” Dale told her and gave her shoulder another squeeze.
The words warmed her heart and father and daughter stood there smiling at each other in the middle of the garage.
“You’ve got a long time before you need to start thinking about having kids,” her father reassured her.
Violet made a frustrated noise and her shoulders slumped. “According to Mom, I should have at least three by now.”
“Violet, don’t let what your mother says get to you.”
Easier said than done.
Violet grabbed two beers for her brothers and one for herself and followed her dad back inside the house.
When she saw them come in, Janie whipped around and squealed and clapped her hands together. “You finally fixed the finch feeder!”
Dale winked at Violet and she smiled in return. She left her parents in the kitchen and carried the beer into the living room. The Razors were losing 2-0. Typical.
“This wouldn’t be happening if McQuaid wasn’t still on IR,” Brayden complained.
So much for not thinking about Jace.
“Yeah,” Tanner agreed. “And our defenseman can’t play for shit.”
Violet was reminded of the look in Jace’s eyes when he spoke about hockey. It must be killing him to sit out and watch the game from afar. Where was he right now? Was he at home watching on his big screen TV? Was he in the players’ lounge? Or was he watching from a fancy booth at the NorCal Center?
Her thoughts were interrupted when her mother called from the kitchen. “Violet, come help me with the hors d’oeuvres!”
Razors Ice 04 - Hot Ice Page 8