It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (9 page)

Yes, Jesus loves me. Please.

They finished the song together as they stopped by the doors to the surgical suite. “‘The Bible tells me so.’”

Then they wheeled Maddy through the surgical doors, leaving him alone in the hallway, his heartbeat so loud in his chest, he could hear nothing else.

Not even the song.

“Sam, how are you holding up?”

Jace sat in a chair across the hall from Owen’s hospital room, cell phone to his ear. They’d posted a guard and cordoned off the area from local press, but he’d still had to run interference when the hospital transferred Owen out of ICU.

He didn’t know what impulse compelled him to stick around all day
 
—save for the two hours he escaped to his condo for a shower and a change of clothing. Maybe he couldn’t dodge the sense that Eden might need him.

Probably just hopeful thinking.

No, not hopeful. Just a sense of responsibility or guilt. Because he also couldn’t get past the look in his teammates’ eyes when he walked into the waiting room. As if he were the father of a bunch of juvenile delinquents.

He’d aged a couple decades right before his own eyes.

Still, maybe he should have picked up on the chatter in the
locker room last night after the game when they suggested finishing what they started on the ice. He’d been tired and just glad to escape without a headache.

Jace had finally sent Max and the guys home to shower and sleep and get ready for practice.

He, however, decided to stay and keep an eye on Eden, who’d sat in the ICU waiting room all morning, downing cup after cup of coffee but otherwise stiff and unmoving, as if willing her brother to wake up. Maybe it had worked because around noon he’d woken briefly, and the team doc, Dr. Wilson, had set up a press conference for later today. Jace had no doubt the PR department would prepare a hazy, nonspecific statement about the night’s events.

Who knew but there might be suspensions in Owen’s
 
—and Max’s and Kalen’s
 
—near futures.

“I’m okay, Jace,” Sam said. “Maddy’s back from her biopsy and feeling pretty punky.”

“When do you get the results?”

“Later today.” His voice was muffled as if he was holding his hand over the phone. “But I think we’re in trouble. She’s bloated with the fluids, and her temperature is up.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Owen Christiansen took a hit to the head last night while mixing it up after the game. He’s out of ICU, but he’s got some damage to his eye.” He glanced at Eden, now sitting in Owen’s room by his bedside. Vigilant as he slept. Jace should get her something to eat.

“Wow, that’s rough.”

“Yeah
 
—hey, I think his family’s here. I’ll talk to you later. Call me if something changes.”

Jace clicked off as a troupe of Christiansens tromped down the hall, led by Graham. He spoke to the guard, who let them pass.

Jace recognized members of the family from the few times Owen had brought them to games, but he’d never really seen the entire tribe together. Owen’s father
 
—Jace couldn’t remember his name
 
—recognized him and came at him with a handshake. A big man, he wore a skullcap and a canvas work jacket and looked like a man used to handling everything life threw at him. He gave Jace a grim smile. “Jace Jacobsen. I recognize you. Thanks for being here.”

“Good to see you again, sir.”

“John.”

“Right.”

“And you remember my wife
 
—” He turned, but the blonde woman had already walked past him, into the room, and Jace watched as Eden wrapped her in a hug. “Ingrid.”

“Yes.” Jace gave him a nod, and John followed his wife into the room. Behind him shuffled in a couple girls
 
—a redhead and a blonde like Eden
 
—and then a brother, a taller version of Owen, except with dark-brown hair.

He stopped at the door. “Aw
 
—you’re J-Hammer.” He stuck out his hand. “Casper. I’m Owen’s brother.” He glanced behind him. “We had to endure the radio news the entire way down. What don’t we know?”

“Call me Jace, and I don’t know
 
—just that it was an accident.”

“Casper!” Eden had suddenly come to life and run out of the room. She didn’t look at Jace as she wrapped her brother in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Casper kissed the top of her head. “Hang in there, Sis.”

She nodded, but Jace saw the fatigue on her face, her forced
smile. He hung back as the doctor came down the hall and entered the room.

Probably it was a good time to exit. Maybe find some grub. He’d stick around for the press conference and then head over to practice.

Jace walked past the cop, then down to the elevators. He was thumbing through the tweets with Owen’s hashtag when he saw Eden walk by.

She reached up as if to wipe away a tear. He glanced down the hall
 
—the door to Owen’s room remained closed.

Where was she going? He didn’t mean to pry, but something about it felt abrupt
 
—enough that he followed her. At a distance, casually looking at his phone.

She had turned down a corridor and stopped, slipping into a crouch and burying her face in her hands.

And he got it. After sitting all day, stoically holding together Team Christiansen, she had to run away to crumble. Sort of like his own escape two years ago.

He didn’t want her to accidentally end up in a lake, nearly drowning, freezing from hypothermia.

Which was why he put his phone away and walked toward her.

She must have heard him because she looked up, her eyes red.

“Eden
 
—”

“Just . . .” She held up her hand as if to keep him away.

“What did the doctor say?”

She stood, tugged at her sweater. “Uh . . .” She brushed her hair away from her face, hands trembling. Then she glanced behind him. “Not here.”

Right. Media. He glanced around, saw an empty room, the curtain drawn through the center. “In here.”

She followed him into the room, let him shut the door. Blew
out a long breath. “It’s horrible. He’s got some serious damage to his eye. The doctor says that even if they save it, they’re not sure if he’ll regain his peripheral vision.”

Jace leaned against the edge of the empty bed.

“It’s just not fair. He’s worked his entire life for this. Since he was four
 
—
four
. He was so cute, his little hockey stick almost as tall as he was. He’d go out on the lake the second Dad cleared the ice and spend all Saturday skating.” She ran her fingers under her eyes. “Funny thing is, Casper was the one who seemed to be our superstar hockey player. It wasn’t until Owen made the team in eighth grade that he really started stepping into his own spotlight. It was like he realized that he didn’t have to be in Casper’s shadow anymore and that he had his own mad skills.”

She shook her head. “He got a nineteen on his ACT. He barely passed high school. The kid has ADHD and is borderline dyslexic. What’s he going to do if he can’t play hockey? Sell cars? Work with Darek on the resort? Not that that’s a bad idea, but . . .”

Jace said nothing. Especially since he had this awkward urge to reach out and fold her into an embrace. Weird, since less than twenty-four hours earlier he’d just wanted her out of his car, out of his life.

And in the silence, maybe she remembered their long, painful ride home too, because suddenly she frowned at him. “What are you still doing here? What, now you start deciding to act like a captain?”

Whoa
 
—

“Really, Jace, couldn’t you have shown up last night
 
—?”

“I was busy last night.”

“Yeah, doing what?”

He didn’t want to be snarky, but she had this . . . this way about
her. “Well, after I drove you home, I had to take my best friend to the hospital because his daughter is rejecting her heart transplant.”

That silenced her, and the whitened pallor of her expression made him feel like a jerk. But the truth was, he’d already asked himself what might have happened if he’d tracked down Owen and the guys instead of showing up at Sam’s.

He didn’t want to go there.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Yeah, well, I
do
feel sick about this. I like Owen, and I understand a little about what it might be like to lose everything.”

“He’s not going to lose everything. He just can’t
 
—”

“What are you two doing in here?”

Jace jumped at the voice of a nurse entering the room. An older woman, she wore turquoise pants and a well-filled-out scrub top patterned with tiny hockey players. For a second, he had the feeling of being in the wrong team’s locker room. “We’re just talking
 
—”

“Arguing. We can hear you all the way down the hall.” She flung back the curtain, and he froze at the sight of a young man lying in the bed. Maybe about Owen’s age, a breathing tube down his throat, his body hooked to machines.

“I’m so sorry.” This from Eden, who looked as horrified as he felt. “We didn’t see him.”

The nurse waved her words away as she checked the monitor. “Maybe he heard you and it will touch something inside.”

“How long has he been like this?” Eden stood at the end of the bed, concern in her expression.

“About a week. He came in hypothermic, with a head trauma, and hasn’t woken up.”

“Oh, his poor family.”

“No family. He’s a John Doe.”

“A John Doe?” Eden said. “You don’t know who he is?”

“Nope. He’s all alone.” She pulled the curtain across. “Come on now, out.”

Jace followed Eden out, seeing how white she’d gone. Even he felt a sting in the back of his throat at the nurse’s words.

“Come with me.” He wanted to reach out to her, take her hand, but he didn’t want to upset their fragile peace.

Thankfully she followed him, and he returned to the elevator.

“Where are we going?”

“This cafeteria has amazing tapioca pudding.”

“Pudding?”

She stood to his shoulder, and close like this, he could smell something pretty and floral, maybe her shampoo. Her blonde hair curled over her shoulders like ribbon, and for a moment, his gaze landed on her full lips, and he felt a latent, almost-forgotten stirring inside.

What? No. Not for Eden Christiansen. He shook it away. Still, he knew what it felt like to sit at someone’s bedside, hoping. “Listen . . . yeah, I’m still here, and I’ve hung around in the hallway all day, watching you stare at Owen, wishing this hadn’t happened. I know that look
 
—I’ve been there. And I’ve found the one and only cure is . . . tapioca pudding.”

She raised an eyebrow, even if she didn’t smile.

Not that he expected it. But he wasn’t the kind of guy to give up, and for some reason he couldn’t quite place, he wanted to see her smile.

“I’m frustrated too. And the last thing I want to do is go to a press conference. Or practice, for that matter. So indulge me. Let me buy you some pudding.”

She considered him a long moment. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, J-Hammer.”

“Never. I promise. Just tapioca, that’s it.”

“Fine. If you insist. Feed me.”

He finally got that smile.

“S
O, PUDDING WITH
J
ACE
J
ACOBSEN?”
Casper held his iPad, moving the letters on the screen in the game Words with Friends. “What’s next, crumpets with Max Sharpe?” He handed Eden the iPad, grinning. “
Lightest
, for thirty-two.”

Their mother looked up from where she sat by the window, knitting. “Well done, Casper.” She wore a long black sweater, a dark-green scarf looped around her neck, her blonde hair pulled back in a headband. But the stress of the last twenty-four hours was etched into her face despite her attempts at a smile.

“I do know how to spell, Mom,” Casper said. He had crashed last night at Owen’s place, and it seemed he had pilfered from Owen’s closet, wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray pullover that Eden had freshly laundered. She had a feeling Casper had also
taken the Charger out for a spin because the keys had gone missing from Owen’s coat pocket. Apparently Max had driven the car to the hospital after the accident.

Amelia looked up from her Mac. She’d taken over access to Owen’s Facebook page and Twitter account, updating the world on his condition.

John sat next to Owen’s bed, holding the remote, glancing now and again at sleeping Owen. He’d turned the TV to a church service this morning, and Eden experienced a surreal sense of the old days, when they’d file into a pew together.

Only her big brother, Darek, was missing. He’d called last night and today, however, checking in. Both times, her mother had disappeared into the hallway to talk. Speaking the words aloud just might destroy the fragile bubble of hope
 
—or maybe denial
 
—the Christiansen family had erected around Owen, his room, his fans, and even his agent, Graham.

Owen’s career might be over.

And then what?

Not only that, but Eden couldn’t shrug off the sense that, somehow, they blamed her. After all, she lived in the Cities; she went to Owen’s games. They depended on her to help him keep his head on his shoulders.

She could barely look at her parents and risk seeing the disappointment in their eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told anyone.” Eden shot Grace a frown, then went back to studying the screen. “Jace just bought me pudding. Don’t get carried away.”

“Pudding. Now that’s a sure sign of love.” Grace sat on a chair, paging through a culinary magazine she’d picked up in the hospital gift shop.

Eden rearranged her letters. “He was just trying to take my mind off . . .” She glanced at Owen. He’d slept most of yesterday and today, the anesthesia from the surgery sapping him.

However, last night’s heartbreaking moment when he’d awoken with no memory of the accident could still wring her out. She’d stepped away from the bed and let her parents take the reins of telling him the details and keeping him calm.

Yes, Owen had needed his dad for that news.

Eden had taken Grace and Amelia home with her. This morning, Grace had scoured her pitiful refrigerator and crafted a miracle with eggs, some onions, mushrooms, a can of tomatoes, and spinach leaves. She brought the frittata and some fresh muffins back to the room for breakfast.

“I like Jace. And the fact that he was here, waiting with you, seems very gentlemanly.” Ingrid gave Eden a smile.

“He wasn’t waiting with me, Mom.” Eden moved an
s
above the word
lightest
and added
hun
across the top. Clicked Submit. She handed the iPad back to Casper. “He was just hanging around. I’m not even sure why. Probably guilt.”

“Seventy-two points? Hey, not fair.” Casper turned his voice whiny. “Mom, Eden is using her brains to bully me again.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes.

“Why would he feel guilty?” Amelia asked.

“Because he sets a bad example for the players. He’s the team captain, but he’s also the team troublemaker.”

Grace grinned at her. “I wouldn’t mind that kind of trouble in my life.”

“Grace!” Eden said.

“I’m just sayin’
 
—just because a guy is famous doesn’t make him trouble. Look at Owen.”

Yeah, look at Owen. Had they not listened to the story of how he got hurt?

Eden glanced at the television screen. Her father had flipped to the NHL channel, catching a replay of Friday’s Blue Ox game. She wanted to suggest he change channels, maybe find something a little less painful. Like the Disney Channel.

But her gaze glued to the screen, watching the action.
The NHL changes you.
Jace’s voice, in her head, from the drive home
 
—what, only two nights ago? It seemed like an eternity. But yes, hockey had changed Owen.

Maybe forever.

Eden felt as if she were holding her breath. Because if it was all over . . .

Well, her parents would return to Deep Haven with Grace and Amelia. Casper would return to his classes at the University of Minnesota, Duluth. And Darek and Ivy . . .

“When is Darek going to pop the question?” Eden asked, keeping her voice even. She’d seen the change in her big brother this Christmas
 
—he’d become the Darek she remembered from high school, only better. This Darek had a smile, a new freedom in his laughter. This Darek seemed healed.

Her father said, “I think he’s waiting until after Jensen and Claire’s wedding on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? Valentine’s Day?”

“I think it’s romantic,” Amelia said.

“They’re both in it
 
—Darek is best man, and Ivy is a bridesmaid. I don’t think Darek wants to steal Jensen’s thunder,” Ingrid added.

Or upset the tenuous peace they’d found after years of blaming each other for a tragic accident that cost Darek his wife.

See, one brother had found his way back from tragedy; this brother could also. The thought seemed to linger in the room because Ingrid set her knitting down, got up, and stood over Owen’s bed. She touched his leg. “He’ll be fine. He has his faith.”

Eden refrained from shaking her head, but Owen’s last words to her rang in the back of her mind.
I’ll change my name.

She stood. “I’m going to get some coffee.”

“I’ll go with you.” Her mother reached for her purse and hung it over her shoulder. “My treat.”

“I can buy my own coffee, Mom,” Eden said as they walked out of the room.

Ingrid looped her arm through Eden’s. “I know.”

They walked in silence down the hall to the elevator. Ingrid sighed, then said, “This isn’t your fault, honey.”

The words, so sudden, so quiet, bit at Eden. She swallowed the thickness swelling her throat and got onto the open elevator.

Ingrid stepped in beside her. Thankfully a doctor joined them, and Eden blinked back the moisture before she dissolved into some sort of emotional mess.

Despite her mother’s words, Eden knew the truth.

They rode down to the second floor and got off, the scent of coffee guiding them to a tiny shop tucked near the second-floor lobby. Leather chairs grouped in circles invited conversation. A bookshelf at the entrance displayed newspapers from around the area. Inside, the sound of milk being foamed, the murmur of patrons, suggested life beyond a hospital room.

Eden picked up a bulging Sunday paper from the stand and stuck it under her arm.

“Did you get a letter from Ruth Hamilton’s family? They loved the article you wrote about Ruth for the Deep Haven paper.”

“I got it, Mom, but I don’t know why it was such a big deal. Everyone knew Ruth
 
—she was a Deep Haven saint.”

“But you captured her personality and reminded us why she was so special. It made me cry.”

Eden shook her head and stepped up to the counter. “A vanilla latte, nonfat, for me and
 
—” She turned to her mother.

Ingrid was frowning at the board. “I think I want a macchiato. Medium.”

Ingrid reached for her purse, but Eden had already found her card. “We have to wait over here.” Eden moved to a tiny round table and set the paper on it. Ingrid slid into a chair opposite her.

“I always knew you’d be a great storyteller, Eden. I used to spy on you when you set up your Barbies and created epic adventures for them. You had so much creativity.”

“Tell that to the paper. Tell it to Hal.” Eden found the obits section and pulled it from the Sunday paper. Set it on the table to read the remembrance articles.

Kendra had a byline above the fold, in a story about one of the first Navy SEALs, who’d passed away on Friday in the VA hospital.

The call had probably come in on Saturday morning, while Eden sat vigil by Owen’s bedside. She would have been working the desk.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

She looked up to see her mother frowning. “Nothing. I’m sorry I’m so crabby. I’m just tired.”

“Eden.” Ingrid leaned forward to touch her arm. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Eden shook her head, a boulder on her chest. “It’s just . . . I feel stuck, Mom. I sit in a cubicle all day and take phone calls about dead people. And then I write a little paragraph about them
 
—usually dictated by the funeral home. If I do find something inter
esting, it gets handed off to Kendra. And then I come home, and there’s Owen’s laundry all over the room, with a note about how he owes me one
 
—”

“Owen made you do his laundry?”

“Oh, you have no idea what Owen makes me do.” She closed her eyes, refusing the urge to tell her about his recent bar fight. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t figured this out, Mom. I mean, look at our family. Darek is a hotshot firefighter, and Grace can create gourmet meals out of nothing. Amelia will be an award-winning photographer someday, and Casper is going to discover a lost treasure. And Owen . . . Well, look at me. I’m the cheerleader. I’m the one who sits in the stands and waves the foam finger. I’m just the bystander. In their lives. In
my
life.”

Her words syruped through her, sticky and hot. Yes, she’d become a spectator in her own life. Watching from the outside.

In fact, even pudding with Jace seemed like something that happened to someone else. For a snapshot of time, sitting opposite him in a corner booth in the cafeteria, laughing as he dipped mozzarella sticks into his tapioca, she’d forgotten who she was. Who
he
was.

And if
he’d
remembered, even for a moment, he wouldn’t have invited her, the girl he
might
notice, out for anything.

Yet for the space of twenty minutes, he’d seemed to be a regular, even goofy guy. They’d played a game, trying to create a story about each person in the room. Crazy, lighthearted fun.

Until it ended abruptly, without explanation. Just like that, he’d turned cold, led them back to the elevator, and she’d found her own way back to reality: the silent, worried huddle of her family outside Owen’s room.

Yes, whatever happened in the cafeteria with Jace Jacobsen had
vanished when they both remembered exactly who they were. Or weren’t.

Across from her, Ingrid had gone silent. She took Eden’s hand. “Out of everyone in our family, Eden, you alone have the ability to make people see their potential. I don’t know why you can’t see your own.”

Eden stared at their hands, not sure what to say.

“A latte and a macchiato?”

Ingrid got up and retrieved their drinks. Eden met her at the counter, took her latte, and doctored it with some sweetener.

Ingrid stood by the table as if waiting to finish their conversation, but Eden didn’t want to hear the words she knew her mother wanted to say.
Eden, God has a good plan for your life.

It certainly didn’t feel that way. In fact, sometimes she wondered if God noticed her at all.

Eden brushed past her mother, heading back to the room.

They heard the yelling as soon as the elevator doors opened to Owen’s floor. It carried down the corridor, and a nurse rushed toward the star power forward’s room as Eden and Ingrid hurried after her.

“Turn it off! Turn it off, Dad! I don’t want to see it
 
—I can’t see it!”

Oh no. Eden stood in the doorway, frozen at the sight of Owen throwing whatever he could get his hands on. Already he’d shoved the telephone off the bedside stand. John grabbed him by one arm, Casper by the other. Amelia sat white-faced as she clutched her computer to her chest. Grace crouched by the window, picking up what looked like the debris of her delicious muffins.

“Let me go!”

The nurse moved to his bedside. “Sir, please calm down.”

“We’ll calm him down.” This from John, whose voice seemed to act as a cord they might all cling to. “Owen, that’s enough.”

“Get away from me, Dad. Don’t touch me.” Owen yanked free of his father’s grip, took a swing at Casper.

Casper dodged it, his expression darkening. “Owen
 
—
c’mon
 
—”

“It’s off!” Amelia said. “We turned it off!”

Owen covered his face with his hands, touching the bandage across his eye. And then, as everyone watched in horrified silence, he began to weep.

Their fragile bubble shattered.

He wasn’t going to be okay. In fact, none of them were.