Between a Jock and a Hard Place (11 page)

Excitement lit Jack’s eyes. “She said that? She said she was going to get her head straight?”

Zoey looked annoyed. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

Jack took her face in two hands and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Thank you, Zoey. Thank you.” He turned to the door.

Zoey shrugged, but she had a smile on her face. “And while we’re talking about it, she said she might send one more blog.”

Randy almost levitated out of his chair. “That’s great! How about you, Jack?”

“No way.” He grabbed Cassie’s hand. “Come on, kiddo. I know where she’s gone.”

Zoey and Randy watched them run down the stairs and out the front door. “What just happened?” asked Randy.

“I’m not sure,” said Zoey thoughtfully. “But something tells me things are looking up.”

The power of takeoff slammed Claire back in her seat and she watched the ground rush by. She’d read somewhere that this was one of the most vulnerable times in a flight. She felt vulnerable too, and could empathize. Last night she’d slept very little. Her mind had been too active, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Much as she hated to admit it, she had been wrong about a couple of things in her blog and she owed it to the readers to admit that. It was difficult, it was humbling, but it had to be done.

As soon as it was allowed, she opened her notebook and started typing.

I’m writing this blog under my name for several reasons. First to admit that I was wrong not to research my facts more thoroughly in last week’s blog. Secondly, to tell you that the individual I spoke of in my first blog is my brother Cameron, who suffered a concussion about a month ago. Cameron will recover to play hockey again, but I freely confess that I was incensed by what I still perceive to be lax interpretation of the rules.

As was pointed out by the blogger posting from the opposing side, the league has appointed a Head of Discipline. This is a difficult position in a sport that is known for its hard-hitting action, and I wish him every success in implementing the new rules designed to protect our players.

As for insulting the fans, that was not my intention. We’re all fans in one way or another, and if we make ourselves heard, we will have a voice in how the league polices itself. Let’s make that a voice for the good.

Thank you for listening and I look forward to following the continuing discussion here at
Phoenix
. Claire Collins

She read over the blog, made a few punctuation changes and sent it just before they landed in Calgary. She sat impatiently as passengers filed off and new passengers boarded. She’d noticed a direct flight on the monitors in the Vancouver airport and chided herself for not booking it, but the stop only took an hour. She’d get there in plenty of time. As the aircraft lifted off again the sun came out, and the weight on her shoulders lifted.

* * *

Claire claimed her bag, rented a car and studied the map, deciding to skirt the town to the south en route to Little Coulee. The land was surprisingly varied...low rolling hills scoured by lush valleys. For some reason she’d always thought of Saskatchewan as flat and boring. Another example of not doing her research.

She chose to travel on secondary roads and rolled down her window to take advantage of the sweet air. The few fields that had been planted showed a light dusting of green shoots, but most were unplanted, waiting for warmer weather. Water pooled in low lying areas alongside the road, a welcome stop for migrating birds resting up and feeding before continuing south.

Signs announced Little Coulee ahead and she slowed. Farmhouses surrounded by patches of green dotted the outskirts, and closer to town she drove through pleasant residential streets lined with trees. As far as she could tell, there were no malls on the outskirts to draw shoppers away from the downtown area and she found the old-fashioned look of the central core appealing.

Angle parking lined the main street and she stopped, got out and stretched her legs. A cool green park shaded by massive trees sat in the centre of the downtown area, bordered on one side by what appeared to be a City Hall. The other three sides offered shops, restaurants, hairdressing salons, insurance and legal offices. Claire made her way slowly around the perimeter of the park, heading for the newspaper office on the far side.

The door was propped open to take advantage of the gentle breeze. She stepped inside and was greeted by a cheerful woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could direct me to the new skating rink.”

“No bother, dearie. You mean the rink that Jack built.” She gave Claire a broad wink. “That’s what we call it around here.”

Claire’s pulse began to race. “You mean Jack Logan?”

The woman smiled. “That’s the one. Everyone knows Jack paid for most of it, even though he doesn’t want to take credit for it.”

“Is it open now, do you think? I’d love to see it.”

The woman laughed. “It’s always open as long as anyone wants to use it. All the kids around here want to follow in Jack’s footsteps, you know.” She leaned over the counter and pointed. “Just keep on going down that way and turn right at the first light. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Claire walked to the door and then turned. “Would you know if there’s a pond around here where kids used to skate in the winter? Before the rink was built?”

The woman eyed her curiously. “How would you know about that, being an outsider and all?”

Claire gave her a friendly smile. “A friend of mine told me about it.”

“That’s an easy one. You just keep on going for another couple of kilometres past the rink and you’ll see a pull-out where the parents used to park. There are a couple of old benches overlooking the pond.”

Claire nodded. “That sounds like it. Thanks.”

She pulled into the parking lot beside the rink and stepped out beside a large utilitarian building. In the back, a pile of snow was slowly melting, evidence that the ice had recently been resurfaced.

She stepped inside. Voices echoed in the cavernous structure and she was struck by the similarity to the rinks Cam had played in as a youngster. Through the glass she could see a few adults in the stands, clutching take-out coffee cups and chatting as they watched the children. On the ice, the age range appeared to be somewhere around ten to fourteen. She watched them shooting pucks, wondering if any of them would realize their dreams of playing in the NHL.

“Would you like to come in?” She hadn’t heard the door open. An older gentleman gestured toward a side door. “You’re welcome to sit and watch, although you’re not dressed very warmly.”

“That’s kind of you but no, I just wanted to see it.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” He smiled kindly.

“No, I’m from Vancouver.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Too bad about the Canucks.”

“Yes, we were all quite disappointed.”

“Jack Logan comes from here, you know.”

His words pierced her heart. This hadn’t been such a good idea. “Yes, I’ve heard that. Well, I’d better get going.” She gave him what she hoped was a bright smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She almost ran to her car and sat there for a moment, fighting for composure. How could she have thought that coming to Jack’s home town could get him out of her system? It had made sense at the time but she could see now that it was a ridiculous notion. To come all this way, hoping to forget him? Who was she kidding! She should just turn around, go back to the Regina airport and wait for the first flight to Vancouver.

She turned on the ignition, pulled out and paused by the road. Turn right, back to the airport or left, toward the skating pond? Why was she even hesitating? She hadn’t come this far to quit now.

* * *

“Do Mom and Dad know we’re coming?” Cassie leaned into her brother. “You know how they like to fuss when you come home.”

“I called from the airport when you were in the rest room. They think they’ve hit the jackpot, getting us both at once. Mom was already planning what to cook for dinner.”

Cassie nodded. “It’s been a while. Family Christmas gatherings are a thing of the past since you’ve been playing.” She looked down at the mountain-tops. “Do you really think Claire went to Little Coulee?”

Jack’s expression was grim. “I think so. I just hope she’s still around by the time we arrive.”

Cassie pointed to his carry-on case. “Do you mind if I get out your notebook? I’d like to check that website. You know, read it for myself.”

“Help yourself.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, grateful for the extra bit of room in First Class. Images of Claire filled his mind. Claire, drinking coffee in the park. Claire, flushed and sated from making love. Claire, examining the photographs in his apartment. It had all happened so swiftly, the emotions had been so intense, that he hadn’t realized how deeply he’d fallen in love with her. And then he’d blown it. He’d...

Cassie nudged him, bringing him back to the present. She placed the notebook in front of him without saying a word. He read the blog and closed his eyes again. Please let her be there!

* * *

Claire had no trouble finding the pond. She stood beside her car for a moment, taking it in. An area farmer had obviously dedicated a small portion of his land to the pond. Even a city girl with limited knowledge of agriculture could see where the farmer had cultivated around the area, leaving the pond untouched.

This was the place where Jack had honed his skills. She wandered down the gently sloping hill and tried to imagine how it would have been on those cold winter days. She could almost hear the joyful shouts, the sharp, crisp sounds of skates on ice.

The benches were still there. Rough hewn but well worn, they bore the carved initials of many of the town’s youth.

But now in the warmth of a late May afternoon, the shallow pond was teeming with bird life. As she sat down, a small flock of sandpipers came in, wings held stiffly out to the side as they spilled air and then landed, running along the shoreline for a few steps.

“It’s where I go to get my head straight.”
Jack’s words came back to her and she could see what he meant. This was where it had begun for him, long before he’d had to endure the pressure that came with being a public figure. Was it any wonder he liked to come back here, where life was reduced to basics?

She heard a car roll into the parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires. Please, don’t let them get out and spoil her solitude.

A car door slammed. So much for wishes. Couldn’t they see that she was alone, and liked it that way?

“Claire.”

It sounded like Jack’s voice, but that couldn’t be. She stood up slowly and turned around. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the landscape with a golden wash. He stood there, silhouetted against the sun, tall and broad-shouldered.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes. “Jack?”

He took a few steps forward and she noticed the car behind him. A woman had emerged, blonde hair shimmering in the setting sun.

Her heart plummeted. Why had he thought it necessary to bring his girlfriend along? Hadn’t he already hurt her enough? She looked from the woman to Jack. “What’s she doing here?”

“She insisted on coming along to make sure I do this right.” He closed the gap between them with several long-legged strides. She couldn’t help but admire the way he moved.

“I don’t understand. Why did you bring your girlfriend?”

“My girlfriend?” It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. He turned around, looked at Cassie, then back at Claire. “That’s my sister, Cassie.”

She looked at the woman by the car. “That’s Cassie? She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He moved to block the sun with his body. “Claire.” He took her hand. “Could we start all over again?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

His eyes lit up and he gave her that killer smile. “My name is Jack Logan and I’m a hockey player.”

She found her voice. “Hello, Jack Logan. Are you a good hockey player?”

He grinned. “I’m not bad.”

She stepped into his arms. “I’ve heard that.”

“I’ve missed you Claire.” He raked his fingers through her hair and cradled her head with both hands. “And I love you.” His lips met hers, leaving little doubt that he meant every word.