In the kitchen, Cathy stopped at the sink. She set the dishes down before leaning forward to gaze out the window that overlooked the backyard. As Holly approached, she could see father and son, standing at the edge of the wheelchair ramp. Ross was pointing at the small, flowering tree as Luke nodded.
"I'm just so happy you're here," Cathy said, grabbing the plates from Holly's hands and adding them to the pile. Holly's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't think she'd ever received such a warm reception.
"It's such a relief to see him happy. My Lucas has always been serious. And I've been worried about him. Always takes the weight of the world on his shoulders. My little Atlas, I used to call him. Still do, just not to his face anymore," Cathy said with a wink. "I'm glad that he's smiling again." Cathy's warm fingers found Holly's and she gave her hand a quick squeeze. "And I'm glad he found you."
The warm, maternal gesture stunned Holly into immobility.
"How long have the two of you been dating?" Cathy asked.
"Oh, uh. We're not really...we're not very far into things. We only met a few weeks ago."
"Really?" Cathy looked surprised. "Well, I'm relieved Luke hasn't been hiding you from us. But you two seem so comfortable together, so in sync, that I just assumed you'd known each other for longer."
She wasn't wrong. Holly had been pleasantly surprised at just how much they had in common. The drive down had been a blast. Easy conversation, lots of laughs, they'd even established some inside jokes. If she wasn't lying outright to his face and he wasn't the prime suspect in the betting scandal she was investigating, then hey, they might actually have a future together.
The joke sobered her. Luke was a really great guy. He was completely devoted to his family, who were totally worth it, as far as she'd seen. He was confident without being cocky, serious without being stodgy and despite his intense image, he was still able to relax and make her laugh. The sex was pretty incredible, too.
He was the total package. And, she reminded herself, innocent until proven guilty, despite her suspicions. So really, she was the problem in this relationship. Fortnight of fun. Spring fling. Whatever you wanted to call it, she was the only verified liar in their midst.
And for what? For a job? But it was more than a job. And not just because the story she was investigating was career making. She was actually starting to come around to the Women's Hockey Network stuff. It was kind of fun.
And she'd gotten a few really nice emails forwarded to her from the Portland Storm site that said stuff like, "You saved my marriage," or, "I get why my boyfriend is into this stuff now," or just, "Your show makes us laugh." It made her feel good to know that this wasn't just three months of career limbo. She was getting exposure and she was touching people's lives.
And she was sitting on a sports scandal that would propel her into the big leagues. Especially now that Corey Baniuk's old job was up for grabs. Besides, she and Luke hadn't agreed to anything. They weren't even dating. Like the Women's Hockey Network, their time together was temporary, and it would be lunacy to put her future in the hands of a man she was having a tryst with, no matter how skilled and sexy those hands might be.
Holly glanced at him through the kitchen window.
Especially since Luke didn't trust her. And with the evidence mounting, she couldn't quite trust him, either.
The sound of rattling dishes pulled Holly back to the present, and she was surprised to find that Luke's mom had completely finished loading the dishwasher while Holly had done little more than stare starry-eyed out the window at her son.
"There, all done," Cathy said, pushing the door to the machine closed and wiping her hands on the tea towel she'd plucked off the counter. "Can I tell you again how much I love your show?"
"Aw, thank you, Cathy. That means a lot. Especially since I would imagine you know everything there is to know about hockey, whether you like it or not."
Luke's mom grinned. "I am a bit of an expert. Job hazard of being the mom of two sports-obsessed boys. I thought Luke might be the most hockey-crazed kid ever, but along came Ethan, every bit as hockey crazy. That child came out of the womb ready to outdo his older brother at anything he possibly could."
She folded the red-and-white checkered towel into perfect thirds and hung it on the oven door.
"For a while, Ross and I used to worry that it would impact their relationship. But Lucas...he's just got a special temperament, I guess. They've been thick as thieves their whole lives, until...well. We've all struggled since Ethan's accident. But I hope one day that we'll find our way back. I catch glimpses of it sometimes, when Ethan forgets to be angry. My boy's still in there."
Holly's eyes stung, but she did her best to hold back the tears. Cathy's words were not for her-they were the words of a mother who'd come to the aching realization that her son's happiness was out of her control and it was a fact that she resented the hell out of. Holly had never missed her own mother more than she did right then, witnessing the strength and the heartache in Cathy's face, the duality of maternal love.
The Maguire men were a very lucky bunch.
Wiping her eyes, Cathy made a shooing motion with her other hand. "Oh, listen to me. We old people are always going off on tangents! I will not waste this beautiful day blathering when I could be learning all about you. I'm going to make us a pot of tea, and we're going to go enjoy some girl chat out on the deck."
* * *
LUKE FOLLOWED HIS dad around the backyard, taking in his latest updates. The old man had done a lot of work. Installed wheelchair ramps to make both the front and back doors accessible, widened all the sidewalks and his car was parked outside because he'd revamped the garage into a physio studio for Ethan. As they stopped to admire the apple tree, Luke could hear the muffled banging of weights behind the door.
Luke glanced at his dad. "How's he doing?"
Ross Maguire shook his head. "He's still so angry. But determined. He's in there every day, does his exercises religiously. Everything that made him such a great hockey player-the focus, the drive-he pours into his recovery. The physiotherapist is astounded by his progress, but Ethan has a hard time accepting praise because he's not where he wants to be. I don't know how to break it to him that he might never be."
The pain on his father's face was unbearable.
"I've never had to do that before, Luke. I've raised two extraordinary men who've accomplished everything they've put their minds to. No one's explained the protocol for when dreams don't come true."
"You're doing fine, Dad. Better than fine. Look at this place. You remortgaged the house to make every inch of it accessible. Ethan's gone to the best doctors, the best rehab clinics. His physiotherapist is practically part of the family, she's here so much. And as much as it sucks, there's nothing more we can do. The rest is up to Ethan."
Ross Maguire nodded. "I know you're right, son. But it doesn't make standing on the sidelines any easier."
Luke raked a hand through his hair. He hated himself just then, because even as he bore witness to his father's hurt, Luke had the overwhelming urge to yell, "No one's asking you to be on the sidelines of my life! I'm your son, too. I got named captain, my team made the play-offs and I'm struggling, playing worse than I ever have. And you haven't asked me about a single one of those things! I'm not even sure you watch my games on TV."
But he couldn't say any of those things without being a completely selfish bastard, so instead, Luke said, "I'm going to see if Ethan needs a spotter for his workout," and then he headed toward the garage.
"Got room for one more?" he asked as he entered.
Ethan barely glanced up at the intrusion. He was on the lat pull-down machine, doing heavy weights and high reps. Luke watched the sweat drip from his brother's determined brow. He was going to hurt himself if he kept up this demented pace. And yet Luke respected the hell out of him for sticking to it. For believing.
Luke stepped between the parallel bars, the spot where Ethan had willed himself to walk again. First one step, then twenty, then a few more. In that moment, Luke had wanted to believe, too, that Ethan would one day be free of the wheelchair. But after that, his brother's progress had stalled. And with each passing day it became less and less likely that he would ever fully recover. Ethan refused to accept that. But as Luke had learned as the captain of the Portland Storm, somebody had to be the voice of reason.