Hip Check (New York Blades) (13 page)

“Going over to Rory Brady’s for a bit,” he called out to Michelle in the kitchen. Rory was good with kids; Erin, too. They’d be able to help him out here. At any rate, there was no way he wanted to be alone with thoughts of his sister dancing through his head. He snatched his jacket and headed out the door.

16

“Well, if it
isn’t the famous Mr. Esa Saari, come to grace us with his presence.”

Erin’s grin helped lighten Esa’s mood as she ushered him into her and Rory’s apartment. Esa had called ahead to make sure his friend was home. Rory made it clear ages ago that he hated when people showed up at his door unannounced, even if it was his best mate on the hockey team.

“Go on and park yourself,” said Erin, rising up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek as she gestured at the couch. She rubbed her shoulders briskly. “It’s starting to get a bit chilly out there.”

Erin was right: Fall was tapping New York on the shoulder, reminding the city to get ready. Personally, Esa liked the fall and winter. It was kind of hard to grow up in Finland and not like it.

“How’s it going?” Esa asked her. When Erin and Rory had first moved to Manhattan two years ago, Erin, an art history major, had gotten an internship at the Guggenheim Museum. The internship led to a job as an archivist.

“Still loving it. That’s not to say there aren’t some days that find me at my wit’s end—my boss is a real arsehole—but overall, no complaints.”

“That’s good. Speaking of assholes, where’s your husband?”

“Just getting off the phone with his Gran. She’s not doing so well.”

Esa sat down on the couch. “What’s up?”

“She’s always prided herself on being healthy as a horse, but she’s got a cough she just can’t shake and is dead tired all the time. The stubborn thing won’t go to the local doctor.”

Rory walked in to the living room, shaking his head. “Jesus wept.”

“How is she?” Erin asked worriedly.

“Stubborn as a cow, as always. She still won’t see Dr. Laurie.”

“Maybe she’s afraid of finding out what’s wrong,” Erin suggested quietly.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it,” Rory agreed. “Or she thinks she can heal herself with the power of prayer. What a load of bollocks.”

“How did you leave things with her?”

“I told her I was sending Dr. Laurie ’round, but I wouldn’t tell her when. She was livid but I don’t care.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“’Course she will.” He put his arm around Erin and drew her in for a kiss before acknowledging Esa. “What about you, you Finnish prick? Anything exciting going on with your relatives?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“‘In a manner of speaking’?” Rory mocked. “Since when do you talk like that?” He narrowed his eyes accusingly. “Are you hooked on that feckin’
Downton Abbey
like everyone else in the world?”

“You leave
Downton
alone!” Erin protested. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Esa?”

“I don’t watch it. The nanny does, though. I think.”

“Then what’s this ‘In a manner of speaking’ crap?” Rory ribbed.

Esa suddenly felt weary, almost punchy. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. “I don’t know. Maybe that last hit I took scrambled my brains more than I thought. At any rate, I’m not in the mood to spar with you.”

Erin and Rory exchanged glances. “I’ll go get us some coffee, shall I?” Erin offered. “Okay with you, Esa?”

“Yeah. Great.” It was ironic: he should be tanked up on the stuff. God knows he’d slugged down enough at breakfast. Instead, he felt completely drained. If he could, he’d cab it back home, crawl into bed, and sleep until he had to be at Met Gar.

“What’s up, mate?” Rory asked as Erin disappeared into the kitchen.

“I don’t know.” Misery wrapped itself around Esa like a cloak. “Actually, I do know.”

“Go on.”

He hesitated. “It’s Nell.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how . . .” He couldn’t believe how quickly a knot started forming in the center of his chest.

Rory waited.

“I don’t know how to deal with the emotional side of things.”

“What do you mean?”

“This morning at breakfast, I mentioned a similarity between Nell and my sister to her, and instead of being pleased, she ran off to her room. I didn’t mean to upset her, and I told her that. But the nanny saw it as a chance for me to maybe bond with her. Let her know that it’s hard for me to talk about Danika as well. That maybe we could help each other.”

“And—?”

Esa began choking up. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t know how I even managed to mention it at the breakfast table. But when I finally went to talk to Nell, I came close to breaking down.”

Rory sat beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yeah, it would be bad!” Esa snapped, shoving his friend’s hand away. “I’m the adult! I should be strong!”

He looked away toward the window, clenching his jaw hard. His eyes were still giving him a hard time, too: burning, threatening to spill hot tears. Fucking figures, he thought.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” said Rory.

“I know that,” Esa retorted.

“I’m just sayin’ there’s no shame in it. Irish men cry all the time.”

“That’s because you’re all a pack of over-the-top drunks.”

“Oh, and the Finns are a bunch of teetotalers.”

Esa swallowed and turned back to his friend. “She’s my sister’s kid, Rory. I want to give her the world. I want to put her in a plastic bubble so she never has to feel any pain again. But I don’t . . .” He cradled his head in his hands.

He heard Erin tiptoe into the living room and put down two cups of coffee on the coffee table. “Should I go?” Esa heard her ask Rory quietly.

Esa looked up at her. “Don’t be silly. I came here to see both of you.”

“Right, then.” Erin settled down on the small futon opposite the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. She looked expectantly at Esa, then Rory, then back to Esa.

“I brought my sister up to Nell this morning, and rather than being happy about it, it upset her.”

“Go on.”

“Unfortunately, it upset me, too. Not that I’d show it.” Esa groped for the right words. “I want to be closer to her. But the bond we share is too painful for either of us to talk about.”

Erin nodded in understanding.

“When we do talk, I don’t know the right and wrong things to say to her. I don’t seem to ask the right questions.”

“Maybe the nanny could help,” Rory offered.

Esa laughed ruefully. “Oh, yeah, she’ll help all right—after she tears me a new one. She thinks part of the problem is that I don’t spend enough time with my niece.”

“Do you?” Erin asked.

“Look, I do what I can, all right?” Esa replied defensively.

“Do you?” Erin repeated. “If you want my opinion, you’ve got a chicken-and-egg situation here: you don’t spend enough time with her because you’re not sure what to say. And the reason you’re not sure what to say is because you don’t spend enough time with her.”

Esa looked to Rory for his opinion. “I think she might be right, Esa.”

Esa took the pads of his thumbs and pressed them against his closed eyelids. “I just want things to be simple. Why can’t things be simple?”

“Where did you get the idea life was simple?” Rory asked.

“Mine
was
. For a long time.” He pulled his thumbs from his lids, giving his eyes a moment to refocus. “Now there’s Nell and the nanny and—”

“What about the nanny?” Erin wanted to know. “Isn’t she good with Nell?”

“She’s great with Nell.” He paused. “That’s the problem.”

“Why’s that?” Rory asked.

“Nell seems to think the nanny and I—”

“Say no more,” Rory interjected.

“It just shows her craving for family,” Erin reiterated. “Spend more time with her and she won’t be making noises about you and the nanny.”

“I don’t know about that.”

* * *

“The kid in
the building?”

Esa looked up from lacing his skates to Eric Mitchell, standing beside him as he fastened the tiny gold crucifix around his neck. He and Jason: these crosses were the brothers’ good luck talismans. Some guys had rituals, some talismans. Some had both. Esa was a ritual man himself, always slipping his left arm into his jersey before his right. Left first because it was the side closest to the heart, the organ that all passion and energy came from.

“Yup, Nell’s here.” He was thrilled she decided to come. She’d get to see what he actually did when he was working, what a cool job he had. Maybe he’d finally impress her in some way.

“We gonna meet her?” Coach Dante asked, walking by and overhearing the conversation.

“I guess.” Esa hadn’t really thought about it.

“Whaddaya mean ‘I guess’? She’ll be in the green room with everyone else, right?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a nice kid,” said Jason Mitchell, putting his cross on. “Saari brought her over the other night to play with Stan. She liked him, drool and all.”

“She liked him so much she wants a dog,” Esa muttered.

“So, get her a dog,” said Jason.

“Really?” His friend’s cavalier attitude pissed Esa off. “And who’s gonna wind up taking care of the dog? I’m sure that’s not in Michelle’s contract.”

“Now she’s ‘Michelle,’ not ‘the nanny,’” Eric taunted.

“What do you think I call her at home?” Esa snapped. “‘Nanny’?”

“Whatever. Why can’t she take care of the dog? Just pay her more.”

“It’s not part of her job description.”

David Hewson snorted his way into the conversation. “Since when did you become Mr. By The Book?”

“Since I learned Michelle is a ball buster,” Esa offered. The description was extreme, but it was the only way he was going to get these assholes off his back. “I need shit to go as smoothly as possible.”

“So we’ll get to meet her tonight, too,” said Eric.

“Obviously.”

“Wait’ll you see how hot she is,” said Ulf, jumping in as well.

Rory, who, in Esa’s opinion, had taken way too long to enter the conversation and help him out, finally dove in. “Is that all you care about? How hot someone is?”

“Dude, he’s too fucking stupid to care about anything else,” said Eric. “His head is like a beach ball: gigantic with nothing inside but air.”

“That’s not the only thing about me that’s gigantic,” Ulf snapped back. “This bullshit about me being stupid is getting boring, you douche bags.”

“Yeah?” said Barry Fontaine, chiming in from across the locker room. “Well, maybe if you contributed something besides tits and ass to a conversation, it would stop.”

“Someone had to take over for Eric,” Ulf replied with a smirk.

“Whoa!” said Jason, fist bumping Esa. “Score one for Mr. Potato Head.”

“But she is hot,” Ulf added, unable to stop himself.

Shut the fuck up
, Esa thought, knowing that if he said it out loud, the ribbing would go on, this time at his expense. The last thing he needed was having his brain clogged up with this bullshit.

Michael Dante clapped his hands twice, loudly. “C’mon, you biddies! Enough gossip. Finish suiting up and get your asses out on the ice to warm up. Today’s word of the day is ‘devastation.’ I want these bastards completely devastated by the end of the game. I want them clutching their water bottles like little girls holding their dollies as they blink back tears and worry about playing us again. Destruction and devastation. Do it.”

17

“Delilah! Where’s Stanley?”

Michelle smiled happily as Nell raced across the green room to the woman Michelle assumed was Jason Mitchell’s wife. Nell was certainly losing her inhibitions fast, which was fine with Michelle. It made her glad to see Nell so animated. It also gave her a minute to take in their surroundings. She wished she could discreetly take pictures with her phone to show her dad and brother afterward, but that would be tacky. Actually, she wouldn’t have a hard time remembering it: gigantic, wall mounted TVs, plush couches, tables of food with everything from muffins and juice to fresh salads and desserts. A far cry from sitting in the nosebleed seats at Nassau Coliseum, gobbling down hotdogs until her stomach ached. The memory made her nostalgic.

There were a few other women there, some with kids. Michelle intended to introduce herself, but first and foremost, she wanted to keep an eye on Nell. She walked over to the small woman with the wildly curly hair Nell was chattering with and extended her hand.

“Hi, I’m Michelle Beck, Nell’s nanny.”

“Delilah Gould.”

“She and Uncle Jason are the ones with the Newf,” Nell explained excitedly. “I really want one,” she told Delilah.

“They’re a lot of work,” Delilah said, echoing Esa’s exact words.

“I’d take care of him,” Nell insisted.

Michelle smoothed the top of Nell’s hair. “It’s your uncle you have to convince, you know. And so far, his answer has been ‘No.’”

“Mong,” Nell muttered unhappily under her breath.

Michelle hadn’t heard exactly what she’d said, but she knew it wasn’t good. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”

Nell looked embarrassed. “Nothing.”

Michelle smiled politely at Delilah. “Can you excuse us a minute?”

“Of course.” Delilah moved on.

“Nell, tell me what you said.”

“I called Uncle Esa a ‘mong,’” Nell admitted reluctantly.

“What’s a ‘mong’?”

Nell looked down at the carpet sheepishly. “It’s kind of a slang for—you know, ‘mongoloid.’”

“I see.” Michelle took a deep breath. She was actually glad to have to seriously reprimand Nell, because it was proof she was beginning to feel comfortable acting like a real kid. She was letting her guard down.

“First of all, we don’t call people names. And that’s a very rude name, and very, very offensive. We also don’t call our uncle names. We clear?”

Nell looked up at Michelle. “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” Nell furrowed her brows worriedly. “Are you going to tell Uncle Esa?”

“No. Why should I? You and I settled it ourselves, right?”

“Right,” Nell replied, looking relieved.

“I do want to add one thing, though: if I find out you’re talking that way in school about anyone else, I will have to tell your uncle. Okay?”

“I’d never! I swear!”

“Let’s keep it that way, all right?”

“Okay.” Nell’s gaze was drawn to the long tables of food. “Can I get something to eat?”

“Sure. We didn’t really have much of a dinner, did we, coming down here so early to watch warm-ups. Hey: did you enjoy that?”

Nell’s eyes widened. “Uncle Esa can skate really fast!”

“Oh, that’s nothing! Wait until you watch him in the game. Sometimes it’s hard to even keep track of him!”

“Wow,” Nell whispered to herself. She trotted off to the food table. A few seconds earlier, out of the corner of her eye, Michelle had seen Theresa enter the room. She started toward her, but Theresa was already on her way over, a huge smile on her pretty face.

“Hey.” Theresa hugged her. “I was hoping you and—Nell?”—Michelle nodded—“would turn up at one of the games.” She tilted her head in Nell’s direction. “Beautiful girl.”

“I know.”

“Looks nothing like Esa.”

“I know that, too.”

Theresa laughed. “How’s it going?”

Michelle lit up from the inside out. “Really well. Nell and I get along. She’s a dream to take care of.”

“Has she talked much about what happened?”

“Not really, but it’s coming, I can feel it. She trusts me more and more every day.”

“And how are things going with Esa?”

“Oh, fine,” Michelle assured her. “He’s inept when it comes to Nell, but he’s getting better.”

“He hasn’t tried sneaking any women into the apartment?”

“Nope,” Michelle said nonchalantly, even though the thought ruffled her.

“Interesting,” Theresa murmured.

“I think he knows I’d kick his ass if he did,” Michelle explained.

Theresa raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Taming the wild tiger.”

“For his niece’s sake.”

“Uh-huh.” Theresa leaned in to her. “You’re blushing a little, you know.”

Michelle knew she was, which only made it worse. “I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive. But that’s irrelevant. He’s my boss, and there are very strict rules about that sort of thing. In fact, it’s in the contract. And there’s a Nanny’s Code of Ethics.”

“And what if Mr. Suave wanted to break those rules?”

“Oh, please,” Michelle scoffed. “That’s one thing I never have to worry about. He knows it would result in my leaving, and he would never do that to Nell.”

“Good to hear.”

Michelle glanced around uncomfortably. “I feel a bit like a fish out of water.”

She felt like a dope asking the next question, but she couldn’t help it as she gestured discreetly at a gorgeous, stately blonde who was pacing in a corner of the room, talking a mile a minute into her cell phone. “Is that Monica Geary from
The Wild and the Free
?”

“Yup. She’s married to Eric Mitchell.”

Michelle nodded vaguely. “I think I remember reading that somewhere.”

“She’s a doll. Do you watch the show?”

“Not for years. I used to watch it with my mom after school. Back then Monica was the town’s rebellious teenager who turned out to be one of the Romanovs.”

“Well, the current storyline is hilarious: her character has been transported back in time and she’s an Aztec princess. You should see the headdress they make her wear.”

“Ah, so you’re a fan.”

“Not me! Michael!” Theresa exclaimed as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “All the players are addicted to soaps.”

Michelle filed this info away. Could come in handy for future tormenting-of-Esa purposes.

“I might be wrong,” a delicate, black-haired woman with an Irish accent said to Michelle as she joined the conversation, “but judging from the way your eyes keep going to that little blond girl, I’m going to deduce you’re Esa’s nanny.”

“I am. Michelle Beck.”

“Erin Brady. Pleased to meet you.”

Theresa glanced behind her longingly at the buffet tables. “Would you two mind if I ditched you for some food? I’m freakin’ starving.”

“No, don’t be silly, go,” Erin urged her.

Theresa gave Michelle another quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” Michelle watched Theresa walk away, looking back at Erin with a sigh. “I’d kill for that body.”

Erin chuckled. “You and me both, sister. Hard to believe she’s birthed three kids.”

“I guess it’s all genetics,” Michelle said with resignation.

“Jesus on a bike, don’t say that,” Erin replied, putting a hand to her throat. “If that’s true then they’ll be buryin’ me in me ma’s Spanx.” The two of them laughed.

Michelle glanced over at the buffet table to see how Nell was doing. She was talking to Delilah. She looked happy.

“She’s lovely,” Erin said, as if reading Michelle’s thoughts about her charge.

“She is,” Michelle said proudly.

“Esa was ’round our place this morning,” said Erin. “He’s all tied up in knots about talking to her.”

Michelle hid her disappointment. She hadn’t wanted to pry, but when Esa was in Nell’s room all of a minute and a half before calling out that he was heading to Rory’s, Michelle figured he and Nell hadn’t exactly “connected.”

“It’s hard for him,” said Michelle. “I don’t think he’s hardwired to talk about his emotions.”

“Not many men are,” said Erin wryly.

“I’m encouraging him as much as I can to spend time with Nell, but in the end, I can’t do it for him.”

“I know.” Erin paused for a long moment, looking guilty. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m going to anyway. In the interest of Nell.”

Michelle tried not to jump all over this with inappropriate eagerness. “What is it?”

“His sister. He’s afraid of talking to Nell at length about his sister. He knows it’s the bond they share, but he’s worried about breaking down crying and looking weak, since he thinks it’s his job to look strong all the time.” Erin shook her head in bemusement. “Amazing, the way they’re such fatheads. Anyway, I just thought you should know. It’s not just Nell who’s fragile right now; he is, too. Mind you,
I
told him he’s got to look things square in the eye for Nell’s sake, but for all I know, it went in one ear and out the other.”

“Probably,” Michelle said quietly, while inside, compassion for Esa was sprouting like a seedling pushing up through frozen, cracked earth. Her job was Nell, and she’d assumed that Esa couldn’t connect with his niece because he was a single, womanizing hockey player who knew jack about little girls. She thought he was upset at having this child thrust upon him, precipitating seismic changes in lifestyle. All that was true. But it never occurred to Michelle that Esa might still be grieving, too. Not that that excused his actions; but it did help explain them.

“Thanks for telling me,” said Michelle. “It’s a valuable piece of the puzzle for me to have.”

Erin looked satisfied. “I thought it might be.”

* * *

Maybe Nell was
his personal good luck charm. Esa’s game had been coming around, but tonight it was like the puck was finding him. He’d set up Rory for the first goal of the game, saucering a perfect pass to him on a two-on-one break. In the second period he’d anticipated Eric Mitchell pinching, and broke back to cover the point, putting him in position to back check and break up a three-on-two shorthanded rush. Even though he hadn’t scored, Coach Dante had been double shifting him, chirping in his ear on the bench that this was the kind of play they expected from him; that they knew he was capable of.

As time was running down in the third, the Blades were clinging to a one goal lead. Despite their great play, they hadn’t been able to get any breathing room since the Phoenix goalie was standing on his head. With less than two minutes left in the game, David Hewson went to clear the puck, and accidentally shot it into the crowd for a delay of game penalty. Desperate to tie it up, Phoenix pulled their goalie, turning it into a six on four power play. Showing his growing confidence in Esa, Dante sent him out on the ice alongside Rory to kill off the penalty. Inspired, Esa skated from the top of the circles to the point and back again, preventing a clear shot at the goal. With less than twenty seconds left, a quick point-to-point pass freed a Phoenix player up for a one timer. In a burst of speed Esa dove skates first into the shooting lane.

Crack! The puck hit off Esa’s skate and rebounded out of the zone. The buzzer sounded and the Met Gar crowd roared its approval, but Esa couldn’t hear it. His mind was clouded with pain. He felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ankle.

* * *

“He’s okay, Nell.
I promise.”

Nell was gulping down huge mouthfuls of air as Esa crumpled to his knees on the ice. Michelle thought she’d only been half paying attention. She seemed restless and at times, downright bored. Michelle had anticipated that might be the case, which was why she’d brought Nell’s game-loaded iPhone along. But Nell had been surreptitiously watching—and listening—all along. And when she heard the words “Saari is down,” her small body became rigid, and she began hyperventilating.

“Uncle Esa—Uncle Esa—” she gasped, looking wildly at Michelle. “He’s hurt—he’s—he’s hurt—he’s—”

“Nell, look at me.” Michelle put her hands on Michelle’s shoulders and looked her deeply in the eye. “Slow down. I want you to take one long, slow, breath for me.” Nell screwed her eyes shut, concentrating hard as she did what Michelle asked. “Good, good. Again.” Nell did it again. “Good. Now keep doing that, and listen to me.