Without giving it a second thought, Isaac flung himself off the side of the porch and down to the ground below. He landed hard and tried not to gasp out loud. He heard Melanie’s mother cursing while struggling to pull the stroller through the screen door.
Slowly, Isaac got up and walked away.
11.
Everyone knew that Detroit would come out hard in Game 4. As the two teams hit the ice for their warm-up in front of another packed and excited crowd, the collective disposition of the Detroit players was clearly different. Gone were the smirks and casual laughs. They were all business.
For their part, Toronto came out looking determined. If Detroit players were focused on going back to their winning ways, then Toronto players were eager to prove their victory the other night was not a fluke.
Now here’s Hill with the puck at centre…a pass to Lewis…Lewis going down the side, takes a shot…big rebound…picks it up and goes behind the net…comes out front…SCOOOOORES!!!!!
Curtis used his long reach to complete a wraparound garbage goal and give Toronto a 1–0 lead very early in the game.
Detroit kept coming hard and were dangerous on every shift. A low shot from the point that found its way through was deflected perfectly by Reynolds to tie the game 1–1.
That was how the score remained, until Toronto got a power play late in the second period and Curtis banged away repeatedly at a rebound while two Detroit players were trying to chop him down like a tree. On his third or fourth whack, the puck found its way past Detroit’s goalie and Toronto jumped out ahead again, 2–1.
Toronto carried the slim lead into the third period and their fans were antsy. It didn’t help matters when Reynolds set up Francis on a perfect one-timer that no one could blame Matt Richards for not stopping. As Matt was coming across the net, the shot ripped into the top corner.
The game was now tied 2–2 with just over half the period left to play.
Behind the bench, Ken and Freddy stuck to their strategies and rolled over the same lines, shouting words of encouragement on every shift. With about five minutes left in regulation, Ken started double-shifting Mike up front and Alex on defence. Both players hunched over together to catch their breath after every whistle.
A few minutes later Ken called for his timeout and added Eddie to the forward line with Mike and Isaac. Mike moved to the wing for Eddie to take faceoffs. Late in the game and with the score tied, Ken didn’t want to risk having Toronto lose a draw, so he put his two best centres out on the ice.
Reynolds was very good on faceoffs for Detroit, but he couldn’t deal with Eddie’s soccer moves and lost the next draw. Mike grabbed the puck on a quick pass from Alex and gained Detroit’s zone. He threw what looked like a blind pass across the Detroit slot, but Isaac came cruising by while fighting off a check and managed to redirect the puck toward the Detroit net. Their surprised goalie reacted late, and the building erupted as Toronto regained the lead with just over two minutes left.
Now it was Detroit’s turn to use their timeout, and shortly thereafter they came flying into the Toronto zone with an extra attacker after their goalie went to the bench. As the seconds died down, Detroit kept the pressure on.
Another shot from Reynolds! Great save by Richards! Back to the point. Mark throws himself at it, but a shot gets through…aaaaand Richards has it! Richards has it! Thirteen seconds left!
Both teams had used their timeouts and looked tired as they lined up for another draw in the Toronto zone.
Mark wins the faceoff again and is trying to kick it back! Reynolds is wrestling with him. Big pileup! Ten seconds…now it comes loose! Toronto’s Davis desperate to clear it…
It comes over the line! Six seconds left and this game…is…OVER! Toronto has tied the series!
As the final buzzer rang, Eddie and Alex met at centre ice and Eddie jumped into Alex’s arms to celebrate. Exhausted, Alex’s feet gave out and Eddie ended up falling on top of him. They both laughed as their teammates piled on.
Diana stood by a fire exit and watched for a few more minutes before leaving the arena. She smiled to herself. For the first time in forever, Alex looked happy.
12.
“Wake up! Did you hear that?” Alex’s mother whispered urgently as she shook her husband’s arm in bed.
She looked at the little alarm clock on their night table. It was just before 3:00 a.m.
“Huh? What?” Alex’s father muttered.
“I think someone’s out front,” she said nervously.
“You’re just hearing things, Maria,” he replied as he turned over. “Leave me alone. I need to sleep.”
Maria Bucco got out of bed, kicked her feet into her slippers and threw a robe on as she left their bedroom to investigate.
Everything appeared to be normal in the kitchen of their small house. It was mostly dark, with some light coming in from a streetlamp, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw their front door was undisturbed and properly locked.
After a rock had come sailing through their living room window a few weeks ago, Maria had added a deadbolt to the front and side doors.
The bolt was still in place.
It was with some trepidation that she then inched into the living room. Maria glanced at the curtain she had sewed back together. She grimaced at how terrible the repair on the curtain looked, as though a crude surgery had been performed on it – A Frankenstein curtain.
Maria froze. She knew everything about her house and was used to every noise.
Something was not right.
She heard a rustling sound coming from the porch. She turned her head in time to catch a glimpse of at least two shadows and that was followed by a loud, startling knock on the front door.
Alex’s mother flew back to the bedroom and pushed down on her husband until he shot up in bed.
“What the hell?”
“There are men on our PORCH!”
More knocking. Louder.
Jumping out of bed dressed only in his underwear and T-shirt, Alex’s father ran for the front door. She stood in his way.
“What are you doing?” she squealed. “Don’t open the door!”
“Get out of my way!”
“We have to call the police! Don’t let them in! Are you crazy?”
Alex’s father grabbed his terrified wife by both arms and flung her onto the bed before running to the front door.
“Do NOT call the police!” he yelled from the hallway.
Alex’s mother sat up trembling violently. As she used one shaky hand to control the other, she experienced a moment of clarity.
Her son.
Alex’s father must have let those men inside because she could hear a chorus of voices. They were in her house and she had no time to lose. She ran into her son’s bedroom and lifted his window all the way up before shaking him awake.
Alex opened his eyes and looked at her in a startled trance.
“Mom?”
“Alex,” she gasped. “The window.”
She pulled him out of bed.
“Go out the window.”
“Mom? What’s going on?” Alex asked, now fully awake and very much alarmed.
“Just go. Alex, the window!”
Alex ran over to his window and swung one leg through. Before he could even really see where he might land, his mother gave him a shove and he was out, landing in their backyard.
She cringed as the heated voices escalated before her husband let out the worst shriek she could possibly imagine. Through the window she saw Alex sitting on top of a fence he had just scaled. His mother took a good look at her son, because the way things were going she may never see him again.
That would be her only regret, but he would be okay. She had to believe that.
It occurred to Maria that if she followed him, those men would come looking for her and possibly Alex too. She could not risk that. She blew her son a kiss as he looked back at the house. She was standing in the dark and doubted that he could see her
.
Her husband shrieked again as she left Alex’s room and walked what she thought would be her final steps toward the living room.
Alex’s father was on his knees and being held down by two men. They must have hit him a few times already, because even in the dark she could tell he was bleeding from the mouth.
A third man stood in front of Alex’s father with a gun drawn and was pointing it right at his face.
Alex’s mother felt the arms of a fourth man grab her and force her into the living room. How many were there?
“N-N-N-O-O-O!” Alex’s father shrieked again. “Please!”
Maria smelled urine. Her husband’s last action was peeing through his underwear and down his leg. She closed her eyes and one impossibly long second later, the sound and discharge of one shot and then another shook her soul.
When she opened her eyes again, her husband’s body was sprawled out on the carpet, a dark pool forming around his head. Smoke from the gunshots rose toward the ceiling. Without saying a word, Alex’s mother broke free of the man’s grip before picking up her husband’s lifeless corpse and resting his bloody head in her lap. She hopelessly applied pressure.
“What about her?” the man with the gun asked as he pointed the weapon at Alex’s mother.
With her heart thudding through her chest, she expected to be next, but she would die with some dignity. She looked up and glared at the man holding the gun before spitting at him.
The man who had been holding Alex’s mother took a long look at her before answering.
“No. Let’s go.”
For the rest of her life, she could never actually remember Havock and the rest of those men leaving her house. Her only memory was sitting there cradling Alex’s father and humming a song until police officers stormed her house sometime later.
As police officers gently pulled her away from her husband, she started to regain her senses.
“Alex?” she asked an officer. “My son…”
“Your son is fine, ma’am. We have him. He’s safe.”
After hearing that, she collapsed.
13.
During Curtis’s overnight shift at the warehouse, his supervisor chatted him up about the Detroit series before telling him to go home and rest. He also suggested that Curtis take some time off until The Tournament was over. If money were an issue, he would arrange an advance and Curtis could make it up later.
Curtis shook his hand. “You’re a good man. Thank you.”
When he quietly unlocked the door to Megan’s house – she had given him his own key – Curtis found her waiting there, and she jumped him as soon as he put his hockey bag down. He picked Megan up and tiptoed to what had essentially become their bedroom.
A deep sleep followed their late-night activity, and when Curtis woke up his mother had left him two messages, for the first time since locking him out.
Both voicemails said the same thing: “Son, I’m sorry and I’d like to put all of this behind us. Please come home.”
Curtis spent the next hour explaining everything to Megan.
Curtis never met his father because he took off before Curtis was born. He started delivering newspapers when he was twelve years old, and his earliest memories were of him and his mother both working around the clock.
When he started university, his mother had a job in a supermarket stocking produce during the day before coming home for a brief respite, and then going back out to clean office buildings in downtown Toronto after business hours. This routine went on for years.
Curtis went on to tell Megan about the day his mother fainted while vacuuming a banker’s office on Bay Street. A cleaning lady she was working with called paramedics, and his mother was treated for exhaustion. Her blood pressure was sky high, and her doctor recommended she take some time off to rest. The cleaning company she worked for was unionized, and her union steward helped her complete paperwork to get short-term disability.
For the first time in her life, Curtis’s mother stayed home…and she liked it.
Curtis felt a tremendous sense of obligation and picked up odd jobs while he attended school and played hockey. At one point, he was working fifty or sixty hours a week on top of everything else he had going on.
Between his efforts and his mother’s disability cheques, the Lewis household was in better shape financially, and Curtis’s mother didn’t even have to lift a finger. Curtis thought she would eventually go back to work, but that never happened.
Instead, she started regularly seeing their pushover family doctor, who would sign or prescribe anything just to get people out of his office.
Curtis’s mother returned home with a different paper after each visit. She had to examine her thyroid…her blood sugar…she might have Epstein-Barr…random headaches were making her dizzy – this went on and on, until the doctor eventually provided enough paperwork to turn her short-term disability into long-term disability.
“I was working like a thousand hours every week,” he told Megan now. “And it still could’ve been okay, but then she started pressing me for stuff.”
A new recliner…a flat-screen TV…moleskine notebooks…a silverware set…a new bedspread…then a new bed…not to mention massages, foot spas – years went by, and it never seemed to end.
Curtis had continued to work furiously. He never questioned her.
“Are you going to go see her?” Megan asked.
“Probably. But we leave for Detroit tonight. She’ll have to wait.”
14.
Right before the Toronto players came out of the gate for Game 5, Freddy gave them a short pep talk about not being intimidated by the home crowd in the Motor City. He reminded them that since leaving there a week ago down 2–0 in the series and seemingly dead in the water, they had managed to claw their way back. Ken added that Detroit might look like they were back on their heels having lost two in a row, but they still had home-ice advantage.
“If we’re going to advance, we have to win here. It’s that simple,” Ken stated.
That was true and everyone knew it. The series was now a best-of-three, and there was no mathematical way for Toronto to win the series without a victory on the road.
After three intense periods of back and forth action, the teams finished in a 2–2 tie and were facing overtime.
Now we’re getting ready for the first overtime of this series, folks! What a show these two teams have put on tonight. Make no mistake, neither one wants to go back to Toronto facing elimination. The referee is about to drop the puck and the crowd is buzzing. Mark for Toronto, Reynolds for Detroit. You know the drill. Here we go!
The teams would play until a goal was scored, which would end the game. Sudden death.
Both squads had players who could grab the puck and score, so they were cautious defensively while trying to generate scoring chances.
The first overtime period was closing in on the ten-minute mark when Mike grabbed the puck and spun himself around in Detroit’s zone, looking for an outlet. He dealt a short, crisp pass across the blueline to Isaac who quickly released a wrist shot.
The arena groaned as the fairly average, harmless-looking shot went right through the legs of Detroit’s goalie for the game winner. The only sounds that could be heard were the Toronto players cheering and jumping off the bench to mob each other.
And Toronto will go back home one win way away from advancing to the second round of this tournament! Unbelievable!
Brooks Edwards could not believe it. On his blog that night, he referred to Toronto as the hardest-working Cinderella story he had ever come across.
15.
Since learning that the same redneck family responsible for running his father down in the street were now going to move into his empty store, Mike Hill fought the urge to drive back and see what was going on for himself. The playoffs were keeping him busy, but between missing Becky and his boys as well as the burning curiosity he had about the store, he made his way home as soon as possible followin
g Toronto’s dramatic victory in Game 5. And after the domestic incident at the home of Corey and Helen Peters, a little time away from there seemed like a good idea.
He decided to stop by the old store first. A sign read TOM’S FISHIN’…CUMING SOON. The sign was written in big block letters with a marker and looked like it had been made by a child.
Mike put his car into gear and drove to his house. He wondered if “Tom” of Tom’s Fishin’ was the driver who ran into his father, or perhaps it was the guy’s racist uncle.
The subsequent reunion with Becky and his sons was more of a blur than usual. During dinner, Becky asked Mike if he was okay.
“Sure,” Mike answered. “Why?”
“You look preoccupied,” Becky replied.
“Just tired,” Mike said as he took a sip of Becky’s amazing soup.
It wasn’t long before Mike said he needed to get back to the city. Becky looked surprised.
“You said you were tired.”
“Yeah, but I’m better now that I’ve eaten. Besides, we’ve got an earlier practice tomorrow. Big game coming up.”
“Mike, it’s late,” Becky said. “Just sleep here.”
“I don’t want any pressure in the morning, babe,” Mike said as he gathered some fresh clothes from a drawer. “I’ll put the boys to bed and then I’m going.”
Mike never lied to his wife, but explaining what he was about to do would not have gone well. He would go through it with her later at some point, but not right now.
The surrounding communities were relatively small, and Mike felt he could take an educated guess or two where “Tom” might be hanging out at that time of night. There were a few watering holes in the area, and Mike hit the jackpot on the second one he visited.
As he sat at the corner end of the bar wearing a baseball cap, Mike took a long look at a guy he believed was exactly who he was looking for. Mike remembered him from court.
The Tournament Page 30
