by Jen Gilroy
“I’m looking for the X-ray department.” Two hours later, Luc stopped beside an information kiosk at the county hospital in Kincaid. The place was a confusing mix of old and new architecture with mazelike corridors in every direction. It also had that sterile hospital smell he associated with sickness and death.
“It’s back the way you came.” A petite, white-haired woman in a blue sweater above beige slacks took his elbow in a gentle clasp. “Why don’t I take you there?”
“Thanks. If it’s not too much trouble.” All Cat’s text had said was Amy had gone from the ER to X-ray. He tried to steady his breathing and blinked at the woman’s name tag. Betty. A name from an older generation and as comforting as a kindly grandmother or great-aunt.
“No trouble at all. I’m a volunteer. It’s my job to help folks like you who get turned around in here.” The woman had dark eyes set in a face as wrinkled as a raisin. “You look like you could use a cup of tea.” She stopped at a machine and inserted a plastic card. A cardboard cup popped into a holder and brown liquid streamed into it.
Although he was usually a coffee drinker, Luc took the cup Betty held out and wrapped his cold hands around it, nodding his appreciation.
“You’re that hockey player, aren’t you? The Simard boy?” She took his elbow again and guided him down yet another long corridor with closed doors on either side.
“Yes. Are you a hockey fan?”
“Nope. Baseball all the way for me. It’s those uniforms, don’t you know?” Betty’s dark eyes gleamed with fun. “But I remember your grandparents. They were fine people.” She turned into another hallway. “Here you go. X-ray’s through that glass door at the end. If you need anything else, holler.” Her smile warmed him more than the drink had. “You did your family proud, you did all of us around here proud, but it’s right you came home.”
Home. Luc glanced at Betty, who barely reached his elbow. Home had been where Maggie was, but Vermont was home, too, and somehow, almost without him noticing, it had also become that curious sense of comfort he got with Cat.
Betty grasped his arm with unexpected firmness. “It’ll be all right, son. Whatever’s troubling you will all come out in the wash. Hearts heal, if you let them. They take a bit longer than broken bones is all.” Her steady gaze held his.
“I… thanks.” Luc stopped as a jolt went through his body. In that instant, for the first time in months, he had a sense of hope. A sense of purpose and rightness too, as well as a rock-solid conviction he was exactly where he was meant to be.
With another smile and fluttery wave, Betty disappeared around a corner like a benevolent, geriatric angel.
Luc tugged open the door to X-ray. Although the room was full, he only had eyes for Cat hunched in a chair at the far end. “What’s happening?” He ignored the covert looks and low murmurs and sat in the chair beside her.
“They took Amy in a minute ago. I couldn’t go with her.” She clutched her purse, and her gaze darted from side to side. “She has a mild concussion, and the ER doctor put a few stitches in her hand, where the skate blade caught it, but they want to take a closer look at her left arm.” Her voice cracked.
Oblivious to the onlookers, Luc set the tea aside and wrapped an arm around her. “I got here as fast as I could. Scott took over most of the after-game stuff, but it’s snowing again and that road from Firefly Lake is treacherous. Where’s your mom?”
“Ward came to get her a little while ago. He booked a room for the two of them at a B&B a few blocks away.” She gave him a small smile. “Mom wasn’t happy about leaving, but although she wouldn’t admit it, she needed to rest, and it’s not like she can do anything practical here. Georgie’s at work. She said she’ll come after her shift finishes, but if the roads are as bad as you say, she might not make it back to town from the inn, let alone here.” Cat’s eyes were purple-shadowed and her body rigid.
“She won’t.” Luc pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and unlocked it. “Text her. The number’s in my contacts. Tell Georgia I’m here and I’m staying with you and Amy as long as you need me to.”
“You don’t have to do that.” She scrubbed a hand across her face and blew out several short breaths.
“I want to.” He pressed his phone into her other hand. “I feel responsible for what happened. I sent Amy out on that shift. I knew the guy who hit her was a troublemaker, but I never thought…” His throat got thick. “I made a bad call.” He’d replayed what had happened all the way here. Amy breaking away with the puck. The kid coming up on her right side. The sickening thud when he hit her. Then an uproar followed by eerie silence.
Cat’s fingers shook as she sent the text and handed the phone back to him. “It’s because of me Amy was playing with boys in the first place. Besides, when she’s on the ice, Amy gives as good as she gets, but that kid was so big.” She blinked and her eyes were too bright.
Luc put his phone away and tucked his hand into hers. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier, but injuries are a part of hockey.” But not this kind of hockey. This kind was supposed to be fun. He stared at his feet.
Cat stiffened and her hand was clammy. “You said there wouldn’t be any body contact.”
His heartbeat was loud in his ears. “There shouldn’t have been, and I made sure that kid got suspended, but there are risks in any sport.” Even before the words were out of his mouth, it was clear he’d said another wrong thing.
“Amy wouldn’t have been tackled by some overgrown kid if she’d been swimming or doing ballet, would she?” Cat’s voice was high and she pulled her hand away from his.
“Has she ever expressed an interest in swimming or ballet?” Luc kept his voice low, because all conversation in the waiting room had ceased.
She flinched and gave him a fixed stare. “No, but that’s not the point. The point is—”
“X-rays are all done.” A guy in green scrubs pushed Amy in a wheelchair to a stop in front of Cat. Amy looked smaller than usual, and her eyes were half closed. Above a blue hospital gown, her face was almost as green as the guy’s scrubs. “You need to wait to see the doctor again.” He flicked a glance at Luc. “Hey, you’re Luc Simard. I’m a huge fan. It was a sad day for hockey when you retired.”
The words hit Luc like a punch. It had been a sad day for him, too, and he missed the team more than he’d ever let on, that sense of community and camaraderie he’d taken for granted until, all of a sudden, it wasn’t there.
“Can I get your autograph?” The guy’s expression turned hopeful. “The name’s Kevin.” He pulled a blank sheet of paper from behind Amy’s chart and fished a pen out of his breast pocket.
“Sure.” Luc took the pen and paper and scrawled his name. “Do you think you can find us a room to wait in for the doctor? We could use some privacy.” He glanced at Cat. Her face was ashen and her arms were crossed in front of her chest. The murmur of conversation had started up again, and if he didn’t get out of here fast, he’d be signing autographs and posing for fan pictures for the rest of the night, instead of being there for Cat and Amy like he wanted to.
“You bet.” Kevin pocketed the autograph Luc handed him and, in one deft motion, turned Amy and the wheelchair around. “Follow me.” He whisked them down a short hall and into a small room behind a reception area. “Anything for you, Scooter. The doc will be with you as soon as she can.” He gestured to two chairs by a desk, then disappeared.
“Scooter?” Cat tucked a white hospital blanket around Amy’s legs before she slumped in one of the chairs.
“It’s Coach Luc’s nickname from when he played in the NHL.” Amy’s voice was slurred. She had a reddish-purple bruise on her neck above the gown, and her left hand was wrapped in gauze and surgical tape. “Everyone called him that because he was fast and could get the puck out of tight spaces.”
“I see.” Cat’s smile was forced, and she glanced at Luc as if she didn’t see him.
Amy gave a hollow cough, and Luc’s insides twisted. “D
id the doctor say if I can play tomorrow?” She squinted in the bright overhead light and put a hand to her head.
“The doctor hasn’t said anything yet, but I say you’re not playing.” Cat tucked Amy’s blanket tighter.
“I only bumped my head.” Amy stuck her bottom lip out and shoved the blanket away. “A few stitches and some bumps and bruises aren’t a big deal.”
“Your mom said the bump on your head’s a concussion. You know that’s serious.”
Amy had so much promise, and Luc had to make sure it could be fulfilled. He clamped his hands together and grimaced as more guilt smote his chest.
“I’m feeling okay now, honest.” Amy’s freckles stood out against the greenish pallor of her face. “I’m the best goal scorer on the team. They need me.”
“Even if that’s true, scoring goals doesn’t make up for getting hurt.” Cat’s voice was gruff and laced with worry.
“You don’t understand anything.” Amy’s voice got louder and she rocked back and forth. “When I’m on the ice, it’s the only place I feel like me.”
“Honey.” Cat stopped and sucked in a breath. “Please believe me when I say I’m trying to understand. I know hockey’s really important to you, but you got hurt. We don’t know about your arm yet, but a concussion and stitches are enough to keep you off the ice for a while.”
“Coach Luc played through lots of injuries.” Amy’s gaze swung to Luc, and her eyes were cold.
“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean I made the right choices.” There was a buzzing in Luc’s head. From today, back through all the years before, he’d made a lot of bad choices, and playing when he was hurt was only one of them. “You can’t play with a concussion. Your mom says so, as your coach I say so, and I’m sure the doctor will say so, too.”
“Fine.” Amy’s expression was sulky. “But nobody can stop me from watching games or helping the guys.”
“What do you mean?” Cat’s eyebrows went up into her hairline.
“Some of the guys on the team are hopeless at hockey.” Amy let out a heavy breath. “I’ve been coaching a few of them at lunch and recess. Not on skates, but I’ve been showing them stuff, and then they’ve been helping me.”
“Helping you how?” Like her eyebrows, Cat’s voice went up, too.
“With math.” Amy rolled her eyes. “Connor Tremblay can barely skate from one end of the rink to the other, but he’s like a math genius. Coach Scott’s got him doing seventh grade work already. Jeez, Mom, what did you think?”
“Since you’ve never mentioned anything about this before, what did you expect me to think?” She flicked a glance at Luc. “Did you know?”
“No.” Although, it explained why Connor had all of a sudden at least managed to stay upright most of the time. Luc tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “If your mom and the doctor are okay with it, I’m happy for you to help out with coaching more officially, but now you need to take it easy so you can heal.”
“When I’m not on the ice, you can’t tell me what to do.” Amy’s head jerked as she looked between him and Cat and her expression hardened. “You’re my coach, not my dad.”
“Amy…” Cat’s voice was a distressed moan. “Hurt or not, I won’t have you speak to Luc like that.”
“Why are you taking his side? I’m your daughter, and you always say we’re a team.”
“We are a team—”
“It sure doesn’t feel like it. Maybe you like him better than me? Because he’s—” Amy’s mouth twisted and she leaned forward in the wheelchair. Then she threw up. All over Luc.
Chapter Fifteen
Cat stopped outside the door of the room where the doctor had found Amy a bed for the night. “I’m sure Amy didn’t throw up on you on purpose. The doctor said kids can be sick with a concussion. As for what Amy said, she was upset and scared, that’s all.” Except, the expression on Amy’s face as she’d looked between her and Luc was stamped on Cat’s heart. It was both furtive and almost as if her daughter thought Cat had betrayed her. And why would Amy think Cat would take Luc’s side, or that she’d ever like him best?
“Don’t worry about it.” Luc shrugged and his abs rippled beneath a yellow T-shirt with trust me, i’m almost a doctor on it in green letters.
Cat’s gaze followed the tight shirt down to the black scrub pants, which stopped in the middle of his muscular calves. Even with Amy asleep in a hospital bed ten feet away, the man could still turn her on. She made an effort to focus. “Still, your clothes are ruined. I’ll replace them, of course.”
“Forget it. I never liked that shirt or those jeans much anyway.” Luc gave her a half-smile. “The most important thing is Amy’s going to be okay. Her arm’s bruised, not broken, and if we weren’t in the middle of a blizzard, the doctor would have sent her home tonight. She’s one tough kid.”
Tough kid or not, Cat shuddered at the indelible memory of her daughter’s still body crumpled on the ice. “Of course she’ll be okay, but that’s not the point. I don’t want her playing on a boys’ team anymore.”
“Didn’t she ever get hurt playing with girls?” Luc’s voice was low, and he took Cat’s arm and eased her along the corridor, farther from Amy’s room. “She was in a competitive league, and girls can be aggressive, too.”
“Maybe I don’t want Amy playing hockey at all.” Cat stared at the framed watercolor hanging on the wall until the muted tones of the Green Mountain landscape scene blurred together.
“Do you really think you can stop her? She loves the game, like all the great ones do.” Luc looped an arm around Cat’s hunched shoulders. “If you don’t want her playing with boys, fine. There aren’t many games left in the regular season, anyway, and Firefly Lake never had a hope of making the playoffs. However, you have to give Amy another option. What about one of those hockey camps? When Maggie’s friends were here for the carnival, I talked to them about Amy. If I recommend her, she’ll get a place, no question. Also, because of her dyslexia, they may consider her case separately and waive any standard academic requirements for a scholarship.”
“That would be great, too good to be true, but…” Cat’s breathing sped up. “Even if she goes to a hockey camp, it’s a one-off. I need to help Amy see that she has lots of choices—ones that won’t get her hurt.”
“From what I’ve seen, she’s already made her choice.” Luc’s gaze was as steady as his voice.
He was right, but what he didn’t know, and what Cat didn’t plan on telling him, was that every time Amy skated onto the ice, Cat was reminded of the man who’d fathered her—the kind of person she didn’t want her daughter to become. “It’s great of you to want to help Amy, but right now I can’t…” Her voice cracked and she swallowed around the thickness in her throat.
“You’re a mama bear protecting her cub, and my timing sucks. Come here.” Luc pulled her into his arms. “You’ve had a rough day. You don’t have to decide anything now.”
“Okay.” Cat buried her face in the T-shirt that Kevin from X-ray had lent him. Luc hadn’t worn it long, but it had already taken on his warm and comforting scent, and his chest rose in a steady rhythm under her cheek. “I should go. Amy needs me.” She stood on tiptoe to touch the strong column of Luc’s neck.
“Of course.” He bent his head to brush her lips with his, a brief whisper of a kiss that helped heal her heart and brought solace to her soul. “I’ll be in the waiting room at the end of the hall if you need anything. Food, a magazine, whatever.”
“Thanks for coming here and staying with us… thanks for everything.” Cat curled her toes inside her boots. From when she was six, she’d convinced herself she didn’t need a man in her life, at least not permanently. But now the evidence stared her in the face, bigger than any of those facts her logical mind set such store by. She did need a man, the one who was right here, still protecting her and looking out for her, like he’d done when they were kids.
What she felt for Luc now, though, wasn’t a childish crus
h. Even though she hadn’t planned to, she’d fallen in love with him. While it might have seemed like a spur-of-the moment decision, she’d only slept with him because he meant something important to her.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “It’s not the first time I’ve spent the night in a hospital waiting room. When I played for Vancouver, a guy I roomed with ended up in the ER at least once every road trip.”
“I hope that’s a joke.” Cat tried to smile back, even as her knees went weak.
Love. She took a deep breath to savor the word. Although she could never tell him, for the first time, everything she’d read in books or seen in all those romantic movies made sense. The world seemed brighter because Luc was in it. And when she was around him, she didn’t only feel safe, she felt complete.
“Nope.” His grin broadened and the drawstring pants slipped lower on his hips. “After he married the ER doc who sewed him up a couple of times in LA, he got a lot less accident-prone.”
“Oh.” Cat’s laugh was forced and her pulse raced as she backed toward the door of Amy’s room. “Well, thanks again.”
Luc couldn’t love her back, or give her what she truly needed. Nobody could. The world seemed to slow down, and her chest ached.
“Night, Minnie.” His expression changed, and heat replaced the teasing. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night… Scooter.” Her voice hitched, and she held his gaze for several endless seconds before she pushed open Amy’s door and slipped behind the curtain that encircled her daughter’s bed.
“Mommy?” Amy’s voice was heavy with sleep and so childlike that Cat’s heart turned over.
“I thought you were asleep.” She sat in the chair next to the bed and smoothed Amy’s hair away from her pale face.
“I was, but when I woke up, you weren’t here.” In the soft glow from the night-light plugged into the wall, Amy looked smaller, and she cuddled a corner of the blanket with her bandaged hand.