Chasing a Blond Moon(10)
Service was at a loss for words. The man he had nearly killed was now coaching the son he never knew he had.
Service looked at his son. “How do you feel about this?”
Blanck spoke for the boy. “Walter said you’re his dad and it’s your decision.”
“It’s Walter’s game and he’s the student. It’s his decision.”
Walter said nothing and Service got the impression that he was being set up, but he couldn’t imagine how or why. “Does he need to make a decision today?”
“Not till the players officially report later this month.”
Service stood and reached across the desk to shake Toby Blanck’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, meaning alive, not necessarily as a coach.
“Me, too, and we’ll be really glad to have your son here.”
On the way out of the arena with his son beside him, someone shouted. Service turned to find Dr. Kermit “Rocky” Lemich, a former hockey player and now a professor at the university. Last fall Lemich had helped him solve a difficult case.
“Hey, Banger. Your kid’s enrolled, eh?”
Service nodded. “Thinking about it.”
“Listen, you bugger, you promised you’d get involved with kids and do some coaching, but you haven’t, so I took the liberty of talking to Walter and Coach Blanck. He’s gonna help me coach a bantam team when he’s not practicing with the Huskies. It’ll do him good, and one way or the other I’ll be getting your family back into the game.” Lemich laughed, pivoted, and walked away whistling.
“He’s crazy,” Walter said. “In a good way.”
“Goaler,” Service said, drawing a chuckle from his son. “Why do you want me to make the decision?”
“You’re supposed to be my father. Aren’t you up to it?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it? You invited me into your life, so I figure if you’re my dad, you should do your job.”
“How do you feel about redshirting?”
“I don’t like it, but it makes sense and I like Blanck. Did you really beat him up?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“He said you were a great player.”
“I’ve got to get moving,” Service told his son.
“You’ll pick me up tonight?”
“We’ll be here.”
Nantz was sitting in the truck. Service got into the driver’s seat and Walter stood by Nantz’s window. “See you tonight,” he said.
“We’re late,” Service said, putting the truck into gear and pulling away.
“That was abrupt,” Nantz said.
“I told Bearclaw ninety minutes.”
“Family comes first,” Nantz said. “The job will always be there.”
Her tone was so soft that he wasn’t sure he had just been chastised. “You ever feel like you’re in the Twilight Zone?” he asked her.
“Every day—with you, Service.”
2
You look like you swallowed a bucket of lemon drops,” Nantz said as Service raced south on the two-lane M-26.
“I don’t understand him,” he said.
“You mean your son. His name is Walter,” she said.
“He told me the assistant coach wanted to see me, so I walked in to find a guy I nearly killed back in college. He’s going to take the head coaching job next season and he wants to redshirt the boy so he can get his academics in order. The boy hasn’t been in class for two years.”
“Walter, not ‘the boy.’ What’s your objection?”
“They want me to make the decision.”
“So make it.”
“It’s the boy’s decision.”
“You make decisions for others all the time.”
“I won’t make this one for him.”
“You’re not being rational, Service.”
“First the kid tells me I’m not his father and now he tells me to act like his father. What the hell does he want?”
“Jesus, Grady. He’s sixteen. He lost his mom last year. He’s got a stepfather who doesn’t give a shit about him. He wants what we all want. He wants stability and he wants to be wanted. This isn’t rocket science.”
“So he dumps the decision on me to test me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Exactly.”
“You think this is all right?”
“Jesus, Grady. Stop whining. Walter can’t come right out and ask you to be his dad because he’s afraid of being rejected, so he gives you a little test to see how you handle it. Didn’t you test your own father?”
“Nobody tested my old man—not if they wanted to still have their head attached.”