by Jen Gilroy
“I wasn’t thinking.” Amy stumbled on her skates, and Luc reached out to steady her. “I miss Boston and my old team. And school scares me. I think all the other kids hate me.”
“Why would they? You haven’t even been there a week. You got along at hockey practice all right, didn’t you?” If she hadn’t—if any of the guys had said something to her—he’d make sure it never happened again.
“Sure I did, but they’re boys. You don’t know anything about sixth grade girls.” Her voice held a note of defeat that wrenched Luc’s heart even further. “It’s not like I have to do anything. Maybe they think I look weird. Or maybe I said something they think is weird. Most girls my age, except for a few of my old teammates, it’s like they’re part of some secret club. If you don’t know the code…” She made a chopping motion across her throat.
Luc didn’t know anything about girls, sixth grade or otherwise, but he knew about hockey and he had to talk to Amy about something that had been on his mind since practice, ever since Scott’s casual comment that maybe wasn’t so casual. “Were you a bit bored with the team here? You’ve played more hockey than those guys.”
Amy shrugged. “You were great, but… I don’t know, I…” She glided to a stop and looked at him. “I didn’t feel like I fit in, and hockey’s the only place where I ever fit. Mom loves me, but I bet she wouldn’t have asked for a daughter like me if she’d had a choice.”
Luc stopped too. “You’re the most important person in your mom’s life. She wouldn’t trade you, even if she’d had a choice.” That was the kind of person Cat was and anybody could see how much Amy meant to her.
“I’m not anything like Mom.” She pulled a tissue out of her coat pocket and rubbed at her face. “Or anybody else, either.”
“Why would you want to be like anybody except yourself?” That was what his folks had told him when he was Amy’s age and it had always made him feel good. “Forget about what anybody else says or thinks.”
“I guess so, but maybe I’m like my dad. I don’t know, though. He died in a farm accident before I was born and Mom never talks about him.” She studied the toes of her skates.
“Amy, I…” Luc bit his lower lip. If he’d thought he was out of his depth with coaching, he was even more out of his depth here.
“It’s no big deal.” She shrugged. “You don’t miss what you never had, do you?” The forced perkiness in her voice didn’t hide the uncertainty—or the pain—lodged deep in her eyes. “Hey, before Mom gets here and grounds me for the rest of my life, maybe I could practice some drills with you?”
“Sure.” He let out a breath.
Drills were good. They were logical and unemotional. They didn’t make you think about things you didn’t want to think about. Amy was a kid, so she couldn’t know how what you never had ate away at you until you were a hollow shell of the person you used to be; one who couldn’t open yourself up to life or other people like you’d done before.
And because she’d lost her dad before she was born, she also couldn’t know how life could change in an instant, a hideous and irrevocable turning point against which you measured everything that came after it.
Cat ran into the arena lobby. The coat she hadn’t taken the time to button flapped open and her boots clattered on the tiled floor.
“Where’s Amy?” She slowed as she passed Stephanie behind the reception desk.
“On the ice with Luc.” Behind the camera-ready makeup, there was unexpected compassion in the other woman’s eyes.
“Thanks.” Cat flung the word over her shoulder in a breathless pant, already halfway to the rink.
She barreled to a stop at the boards. Amy and Luc were at the far end of the ice near a goal crease. Her daughter laughed at something Luc said and her thin face was animated in a way it hadn’t been in weeks.
Cat’s heart gave a sickening thump. Amy hadn’t looked happy in Boston, either, but would she have been happier if Cat hadn’t uprooted them to move to Firefly Lake? Had she made a terrible mistake? Maybe if she’d helped Amy more at school, she’d have kept her grades up. Had her place on the team been as much at risk as the coaches said? Could Cat have tried harder to find another option? Maybes, might haves, could haves… she had to stop second-guessing herself.
“Amy?” Her voice was a hollow echo in the empty arena. She pushed open the gate and edged onto the ice, curling her fingers inside her mittens.
Her daughter turned and the smile slipped off her face. “Mom?”
“It’s okay.” Cat held out her arms and, with a half dozen glides, Amy skated into them.
“I’m sorry.” Her daughter’s words were a muffled gasp against Cat’s coat. “I was dumb. I didn’t mean to make you worry, or Grandma and Mrs. Liz, either.” Her shoulders heaved.
“Not dumb, never dumb.” Cat smoothed Amy’s hair and held her tighter. “But maybe you didn’t think. When your grandma and Liz couldn’t find you, and you weren’t in the apartment… I was so scared.” She choked back a sob. “I love you so much, sweetie.”
“Since everything’s okay, I’ll head out.”
At Luc’s deep voice, Cat looked up. On skates, he towered over her even more than usual.
“You… I… thank you… if you hadn’t found Amy…” Cat tasted the fear at the back of her throat. Her daughter could have been kidnapped or killed. Or she could have gotten lost in the snowstorm and frozen to death.
“Hey.” Luc moved around Amy. “You’re as white as the ice. Come, sit down.” With a gentle pressure and without dislodging Amy from her arms, he guided them both to one of the team benches and sat beside her. “I was on my way to the gym when I drove past a kid alone in the parking lot. I didn’t know it was Amy, but something didn’t look right, so I checked it out.”
“Thank God you did. Amy?” Cat cupped her daughter’s chin. “I’m not mad, but if Coach Luc hadn’t been around, you could have gotten into real trouble.”
“I know.” Amy’s voice was small. “I made a mistake, but all of a sudden I had to skate and that’s all I could think about.”
Cat exhaled. “When we get home, we’ll talk about how to make better choices, but for now, what do you say to your coach?”
“Thank you.” Amy turned her tear-streaked face to Luc. “I made you miss your workout. Will you bench me?”
“No.” Luc gave Amy’s arm a rough pat. “You haven’t even played a game for the team yet, so how could I bench you? I can give you some extra drills and laps, though.”
Amy’s expression brightened. “I can start now. I mean, if you want me to?”
“Great. Five laps of the ice, then go through those two drills we worked on.” He hesitated before turning to Cat. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Go on.” After Amy sped onto the ice, she eyed him. “You know that laps and drills aren’t exactly a punishment for her?”
He gave her a tip-tilted smile that squeezed her heart. “Amy’s having a tough time. I don’t want to make it any harder for her. Besides, she might as well use the ice time.”
“You paid for ice time?” She dug in her purse for her wallet. Paying him back would pretty much wipe out this week’s grocery money, but her mom had given her lots of holiday leftovers and all the lean years had taught Cat how to stretch a food budget.
“Forget it.” Luc put his hand over hers and, even through her mitten, her skin tingled. “I enjoyed skating with Amy.”
“But…” Cat’s voice was husky. Ice time was pocket change for him, so why was it hard for her to accept a kind gesture? Maybe because she’d always paid her own way and never let her mom, Nick, or anyone else help her out, even when she might have needed it.
“Put your money away.” He grinned. “No man or woman is an island, remember?”
“Thanks.” She pulled her hand away from his to fumble with her bag.
“See. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voiced teased her. “Besides, I want to talk to you about Amy, and those drills will keep
her occupied for a while.”
Cat’s heart thudded hammerlike against her ribs. How many times had someone said they wanted to talk to her about her daughter? Even before Amy was old enough to toddle, Cat had sensed she wasn’t the same as other kids. Behind her big blue eyes and cherubic face, her little girl was wired differently. Although teachers and coaches over the years had tried to understand Amy, most of them didn’t, at least not enough to truly help her.
“What about Amy?” She stared at the ice and her daughter skating at speed, her hair flying out beneath a helmet.
“She’s a special girl.” Luc’s expression didn’t look like he was judging. Instead, he seemed almost excited.
“Yes.” Cat had also lost count of how many times she’d heard the word special. Back when people had applied it to her, and now with Amy, it was never as good as it sounded.
“I mean it. She’s a smart and savvy little hockey player with heaps of potential. She’s also hardworking and focused. From what the other assistant coach and I saw on Saturday, she could be the kind of kid who comes along once in a generation.”
“Really?” Cat gripped the edge of the bench. Although Amy’s coaches in Boston had said she was good, there were lots of good players on her team. Cat had never gotten the sense her daughter stood out.
“I mean it.” Although Luc’s blue gaze was warm, it was also determined. “I want to give her extra coaching. The team here won’t stretch Amy enough, and these next few years will be crucial for her development.”
“She’s only twelve.” She gripped the bench tighter. Although she wanted the best for Amy, the best cost money. When it came to hockey, she could barely afford new skates, and no sport was as important as what Amy needed at school.
“Hockey’s a fun sport for kids, but if they’re any good, it can also become a business. For girls like Amy, there are summer hockey schools and elite teams. When she gets older, she might even be on track for a college scholarship like I had.” His gaze softened. “Nobody’s ever talked to you about anything like this?”
“No.” She blinked away the burning sensation behind her eyes. “Amy has dyslexia. Back in Boston, some of the other kids bullied her because of it. Hockey helps her feel good about herself, but she needs to focus on school, too. Some of the teachers here are specialists in teaching dyslexic students.” And Amy would get the kind of help for free that Cat couldn’t otherwise afford.
“You won’t get any argument from me that school’s important, and I’m not minimizing Amy’s academic challenges, but lots of athletes are dyslexic.” Luc studied her for a beat. “I want to help her. Will you let me?”
“I…” Her legs shook and she pressed her knees together.
“I wouldn’t charge you anything. You and Amy are like family. Call it paying it forward.” A faint flush tinged his cheeks.
Cat hugged her purse. For Amy’s sake, could she be beholden to Luc? If he gave her daughter private coaching, he’d become an even bigger part of both their lives, and she already thought about him more than she should. But how could she deny Amy something she’d want more than anything? If she ever found out Cat had said no to this chance, her daughter might never forgive her. Luc’s blue gaze matched his words. Steady, honest, and nothing for Cat to be scared of. All he wanted was what was best for Amy.
“That’s really generous, but…” She stopped and looked at the rapt expression on her daughter’s face. She and Amy wouldn’t be in Firefly Lake forever. Any extra coaching would be temporary. “Okay.” Cat made her mouth shape the word even as her stomach knotted.
“That’s great.” His grin was open and boyish. Unlike her, he didn’t question every choice he made or hesitate when he had to step into the unknown. And unlike her, he hadn’t once made a bad choice that had altered his whole life. “You won’t regret it. Given what Amy put you through today, do you want to tell her now or wait?”
“I’ll talk to her when we get home.” Cat needed to impress on Amy that by running off, she’d frightened everyone half to death. The extra coaching was only because Luc thought she had talent. “If you give me your number, Amy will probably want to call you later.” She told herself she was asking for his number for her daughter and not because he was surprisingly easy to talk to.
“Sure, give me yours, too.” He pulled out his phone and gave her a wry smile. “I hope I don’t ever have to send you a text like the one I sent your mom earlier.”
Cat’s hand trembled as she rummaged in her purse for her phone. Luc had been a good kid, and he’d grown up into a good man who did the right thing and didn’t expect anything in return—especially not from a woman he’d always looked out for like an extra sister.
But his giving Amy extra coaching would change things in a way Cat already regretted.
Chapter Seven
Two weeks later, Luc left the wood-paneled conference room at the Inn on the Lake and headed into the lobby. Dominated by a massive fieldstone fireplace and with welcoming sofas, low tables, and soft lighting, the space managed to be both impressive and cozy.
When he’d moved back here, he’d wanted to become a real part of the community and give back to the town that had given him his start in life. But helping others had helped him, too. Not only had it eased the ache in his heart, it had given him a sense of home that, like this inn, brought comfort and unexpected calm.
“Having you join us has sure given the Rotary Club a boost.” Nick clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “We’ve never had so many people come out for one of our monthly lunches before. You’ll have to get involved in the Chamber of Commerce, too.”
“Happy to.” And Luc was happy, or at least what he told himself was his new version of happy. Not as happy as Nick, who still wore the glow of his Barbados honeymoon, but as happy as he could ever be after losing the love of his life.
“I hear you’re giving Amy extra coaching.” Sean Carmichael, Nick’s brother-in-law, joined them in front of one of the lobby’s soaring windows that overlooked the winter world beyond. “Some folks are sure pissed the new girl in town is getting special attention.” He chuckled. “I think it’s great, though. It’s also given my wife the idea that Firefly Lake should get behind girls’ hockey so our daughter can play when she’s old enough.”
Although a lot of things had changed since Luc was a kid, the rivalry between hockey parents clearly hadn’t. Despite any noses that were out of joint, he stood by his decision to help Amy. “That girl has a sense of the ice like no other kid I’ve ever seen, but if there are other girls around here who want to play hockey, bring them on. Maybe we could have a demonstration at the winter carnival next month.” Luc had volunteered to give time and money to the carnival the Rotary was organizing. “I know lots of women players. Maybe a few of them would be able to come here and help out.”
“We got lucky. We have to pay it forward.” Maggie’s words echoed in Luc’s head. He could almost see the sparkle in her brown eyes and the generous curve of her mouth, with the tiny scar on her upper lip. His mouth went dry.
“That’s a terrific idea. I bet Amy would love to take part. It would help her get settled here.” Nick beamed at him. “I have to get back to the office, but why don’t you join us for dinner at Mom’s on Sunday? We can talk more then. The whole family will be there, Cat and Amy too.”
Luc’s chest constricted. “Well…” He tried to avoid family dinners, even families that weren’t his, because they reminded him of Maggie and the empty space at the table that would never be filled.
“Come on, you live at Harbor House anyway, and you have to eat.” Of course, Sean, the poster guy for happy families everywhere, had to jump in. “You can talk to Charlie. If you get a few high-profile women players to come here, I bet she could arrange media coverage.”
Charlie, Sean’s wife, was a journalist and, along with her sister, Mia, was one of the nicest women Luc had ever met. They were both kindhearted, and neither one of them ever missed an opportunity to promote
good causes. If a cause meant they could also promote the virtues of Firefly Lake, it was even better. In a lot of ways, they reminded him of Maggie, which was why, although he was friendly, he also kept his distance from them.
“Dinner… I guess so.” Luc balled his hands into fists.
Gabrielle’s boisterous New Year’s brunch hadn’t been as hard as he’d expected. Why should Sunday dinner be different?
It shouldn’t be, except for the two men who stood in front of him. Neither Nick nor Sean and their families had been there on New Year’s Day, so they wouldn’t have picked up on any of the undercurrents between him and Cat. However, Charlie and Mia were sharp—too sharp. And without her loud and loving French Canadian family around, and with Nick and Mia happily married, Gabrielle would have more time to focus on other members of her family, Cat and Amy in particular.
“Great, see you at six on Sunday, and bring an appetite. You’d think Mom expected an invasion over the holidays. The freezer is still stuffed with leftovers, so if you don’t help us out, we’ll be eating turkey until Easter.” Nick clapped Luc’s shoulder again, then he and Sean headed across the lobby toward the hotel entrance.
Luc looked out the window and, in the sudden silence, classical piano music tinkled through unseen speakers. By the edge of the lake, near what in summer was the inn’s boat dock, snow had been cleared to make a skating rink that glinted silver-white in the midday sun. Above the music, a laugh rang out like a chime of sleigh bells. He turned away from the window and caught his breath.
Cat stood near the reception desk with Georgia, who wore workout clothes. Although her sister’s outfit was more revealing, it was Cat that Luc’s gaze was drawn to. Today she wore a pair of black pants and a soft pink sweater that hugged each one of her sweet, womanly curves. His body reacted and guilt speared him, even as he moved closer to her like a magnet pulled by steel.
“I do get—Luc?” Cat stopped midsentence and stared at him with those beguiling blue eyes of hers.