“My mom did the same thing at our house. She talked my dad into putting in one of those gardening windows so she could grow herbs in the kitchen.” He smiled at the memory. “She was so proud of herself when she could use the herbs she grew in family meals.”
“Speaking of meals, our scouting department was considering sending you a year’s worth of Kringle and brats as an enticement.” Racine, Wisconsin, was the home of Kringle—a butter-laden, multi-layered filled pastry as world-famous as New Orleans’ King Cake or the cheesecake of New York City.
“I love brats, especially when they’re marinated in beer and grilled. I’m also pretty fond of Kringle. Maybe you could come over and help me eat them.”
He saw her lips curve into a smile. “I might take you up on the Kringle. I had some the last time we were in Green Bay. It’s delicious.” The sun was setting, and she sat down on a glider in a small patch of shade. “Didn’t you want to play for Green Bay?”
He sat down next to her, close enough to hold her hand. She didn’t resist.
“I was drafted by Minnesota,” he said.
“You could have asked for a trade.”
“Yes, I could have, but I was happy there, and after the Sharks made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’ve been happy there too.”
“Do you miss your family?”
“Does a bear poop in the woods?” He laughed as he said it. “Yeah, I miss them. I go home for a few weeks when the season’s over each year, and they come and visit me when they can’t take the ice and snow anymore.” He watched the setting sun turn her pale skin to gold. “Is your family in the area?”
“You might say that. My parents are in Southern California. My brother and sister and their families live on the East Coast.”
“It must be tough at the holidays.”
“We all meet up at my parents’ house for a week.” He was a little surprised she didn’t seem like she wanted to elaborate. He’d like to know something about her family. In the meantime, he wanted to keep the conversation light.
“Well, that sounds fun. I usually have Christmas these days with some of the guys. It’s too hard for my family to all get out to the Seattle area.”
“What do you all do instead?”
“Zach Anderson and his wife, Cameron, invited us all over last year for Christmas lunch. We had to play three days before and she had to work, so we paid the chef that cooks for several of the guys during the season a little extra to make the holiday feast.”
“I think I read about that.”
“Her network brought cameras and filmed a story about it that was broadcast at halftime the Sunday after Christmas.” The memory of Cameron’s excitement at hosting the holiday gathering (and the obvious love and pride in her husband’s expression as he looked on) still made Drew smile.
“You all went to Children’s Hospital later that day as well.”
“Now THAT was fun. A few of the guys made a toy run the night before Christmas Eve, and we handed the stuff out. They made sure to get low-tech stuff like board games and Jenga so we could play with the kids for a little while. The boy I was playing Uno with has cancer, but I made him laugh. I made sure he got a few extra cookies too. I think it was the best Christmas I’ve had so far,” he said.
The boy’s name was Nolan and he was Drew’s favorite Tuesday afternoon appointment these days. If Drew moved his ass tomorrow, he’d make it back to Seattle in time to stop at the hospital with a frosty Dick’s chocolate shake and maybe some French fries he smuggled in. Every time he went to visit now, Nolan wore the team logo hoodie Drew peeled off himself on Christmas Day and put on Nolan. It hung to the kid’s knees. They’d had to cut the sleeves to accommodate the IVs, but Nolan would be getting a brand-new one when he left the hospital.
Drew found out Nolan’s mom was a single parent. She was having a tough time paying the rent while her son was in the fight of his life. Drew did a little scouting around and pre-paid her rent for a year—confidentially, of course.
Kendall’s voice was gentle. “I’ve heard several of the Sharks go there every Tuesday afternoon.”
He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He wasn’t Mr. Emotional as a rule, but he saw his own nieces and nephews in every kid in those hospital beds. If spending a few hours every Tuesday afternoon visiting brightened their day, he was happy to do it.
“Yeah. Our QB takes one for the team every week. The media takes pictures of him, and a bunch of us sneak in through another entrance.”
She leaned a little closer to him. “My parents thought I’d be a nurse.”