Playing to Win(22)

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.