by Ines Saint
“Nick? Can I ask you something?”
After the way he’d been ambushed inside, Nick didn’t trust her, so he just looked at her.
“Do you remember the first thing you said when Emma was born?”
He didn’t.
“You picked her up, and you were completely overwhelmed. You said you loved her so much, it was scary.” Susan’s voice was soft as she remembered. “It made me feel guilty because all I could think about was how I just wasn’t ready.”
“It was scary. In fact, it hurt. It actually, physically hurt.” Nick chuckled. “I was so afraid I was going to mess it up. She was so little, I was terrified I was going to drop her or break her. I had no idea how we were supposed to keep such a defenseless little thing alive.” He remembered the feeling perfectly.
“But then, when she was about three months old, you were an old pro and I was so inadequate.” It was Susan’s turn to smile. “There you were, taking five classes, getting up to feed her and change her at night — you completely turned your game around after having trouble at practice, and yet I was the one who was always tired.”
Nick thought about that. He’d been MVP the year Emma was born. No one could believe he was tackling so much. But he’d started the season by being completely off his game, and he blamed it on waking up in a sweat every night. He couldn’t coordinate, his movements were sloppy. Emma waking up every two hours wasn’t the problem, as long as he could just lie back down and get to sleep again. The restless type of sleep that came from having his mind active with nightmares he couldn’t even remember — that had been the problem.”
“Don’t you see?” Susan interrupted Nick’s thoughts.
“See what?” He tried not to look at his watch. Between hockey practice and the whole intervention nonsense, he thought he was tired enough to sleep a good twelve hours.
“Loving someone — it’s a scary thing,” Susan explained. “You loved Emma so much, you were scared of what that meant, of how you would handle it, and the anxiety kept you up at night until you figured out that you could handle it.”
“You’re trying to draw a comparison between two completely different things, Susan.”
“Well — of course they’re different, Nicholas. What I’m trying to say is that there’s a risk of getting hurt when you love someone deeply. It’s not an easy risk for some people to take. Think about it.” Susan was exasperated.
“All right, Susan, I’ll think about it, just not right now.”
Though it was cold, Nick buzzed his window down and let the cool air whip his face during the ride home, knowing that right now, what he needed most was to go home and get some sleep. His team had its first game against Justin’s tomorrow, and it would be Nick’s last game before leaving.
• • •
“What’s this?” Timmy took an old ornament out from the box, grimaced, and held it away from him with the tips of his fingers.
“Oh, that’s a snowflake Jamie made when she was about your age,” his grandmother said, her voice heavy with nostalgia.
“It looks like a giant yellow booger.” Michael frowned.
“Well, it used to be white, and it had an actual shape back when I made it — honestly, Mom, I don’t know why you keep these things.”
Isabella just smiled.
“Did this really belong to an elf?” Timmy took out an old, green-and-red miniature stocking.
“If it did, the elf had a bad case of fungus.” Hannah turned her head away.
“That one was Justin’s,” Isabella remembered.
Liz took the stocking from Timmy, took a sniff, and made a face. “You know, maybe using old ornaments wasn’t such a great idea.” Everyone instantly agreed, and the old boxes were tossed aside while they figured out how to decorate Isabella’s Christmas tree. Dr. Viera sidestepped the boxes and sat down to watch TV.
Jamie’s tree had been up for two weeks now. She and the kids had decorated it in a colorful display of lights and homemade ornaments. But Isabella had waited for their Sunday reunion to decorate hers. It was only two days before Christmas.
“Jamie and I can bring some of our ornaments over.”
“Why don’t we make a pillow tree,” Isabella suggested, and was rewarded with frowns, smirks, and raised eyebrows.
“I have a lot of shiny red, green, and gold materials left over from years of Christmas plays, and we have a bunch of old pillows we can open up and use for stuffing. We can cut the fabric into angel shapes, stars, and stockings.” Isabella had always volunteered to help out with costumes, props, and decorations that involved sewing for all of Jamie and Justin’s school plays.
Jamie remembered some of the shimmering fabrics and thought they would look pretty with the Christmas lights, and Michael and Timmy became excited at the idea of cutting and stuffing anything.
“Well, let’s get started to see if we can get the tree and dinner done by the time Justin and Chris get back from the hockey game.” Liz clapped her hands together.
“There’s a heavy snowfall, possible hailstorm warning for tonight, maybe you should call them and tell them to come back early,” Jamie’s dad called from in front of the TV.
“Oh, they should be back in time for dinner,” Liz called back.
• • •
Nick stole the puck from behind the net, spun around, and passed it to Reilly. It was always during the last few minutes of a game that he could feel the adrenaline pumping just as it had when he was in high school. No, he wasn’t eighteen, but during those last few minutes, especially during a close game, he felt like he could take on an entire high school team.
Nick slammed his hockey stick when Justin Viera broke down the ice and beat two defenders to get a shot off. Dylan made the save, but Rashid tucked the puck into the net on rebound.
The score was tied, and they went into sudden-death overtime.
Nick stole a glance at Viera to check out his position. Viera was just turning from him toward the action. Nick stood ready to receive a quick pass from Jenner and noted that Justin was just as ready to deflect his attempt at a goal. The moment was tense until Brennan shoved O’Connell. Nick skated toward the center.
“Hi, Aunt Jamie!” he heard Chris Viera call. The adrenaline kicked Nick’s heart up another notch, and he immediately looked up and around, but couldn’t see her. He looked at the other side of the rink — and it hit him that Chris had been bluffing. Busted by a ten year old.
And that was when the puck hit him, too. Hard, right under the edge of the visor. Nick let out several curses he hadn’t said since before Emma was born and keeled over in pain. In the background, he heard people calling him as they came closer, and a few more expletives shouted. He blinked, but he couldn’t see out of his right eye. Seconds later, guys from both teams were surrounding him.
Nick squeezed his right eye shut, and that stopped it from stinging a bit. He looked down at his hand. Blood. He looked up and although his vision was blurry, he could make out enough from the looks on everyone’s faces to know his right eye looked pretty bad.
“What the hell happened?” Nick asked.
“Damn it, Nick, I’m so sorry,” he heard Eric Brennan say.
Everyone began talking at once.
“Here’s an icepack,” someone offered.
“Brennan deflected a shot, and it hit him.”
“We need to get him to an emergency room.”
“It’s Sunday — he’ll be there till midnight,” he heard Viera say. “I’ll take you to my parents’ house. My dad can check it out, and if he thinks it’s serious, we can take you to the emergency room. If he thinks it can wait till tomorrow, I’ll drive you home.”
Nick hated to admit Justin’s plan was best, except for one thing. “I can drive,” he said. There was a round of protests on that one. Appa
rently, his eye looked bad enough that nobody thought he was fit to drive. Nick wanted to do things his way, but, truth be told, he was in too much pain to put up much of a fight. The ice was making his eye burn worse than before, and the stinging was just as bad.
So fifteen minutes later Nick found himself in the unlikeliest of places. On the passenger side of Justin’s minivan. The stinging sensation in his right eye wasn’t bothering him as much, and he could almost open his eye. Almost. His temple was beginning to throb.
“You heard me pretend to call Aunt Jamie, didn’t you?” Chris asked from the back seat. “You thought she was there, that’s what got you distracted.” Nick heard the guilt in the kid’s voice.
“Chris, show some respect, will you?” Justin scolded.
They were quiet for a few beats.
“I saw that, too, by the way. If I would’ve known that’s all it took to keep you distracted, we would’ve won by now,” Justin cracked.
“She likes you, too, you know, I’ve heard them talking about you in the kitchen a few times.” Chris obviously thought that tidbit was a peace offering. And it worked. Chris was forgiven.
“Chris.” Justin’s tone was dead serious. “You’re out of bounds, quit it.”
Justin was watching him, so he tried to keep his expression neutral. But it was tough. He liked kids, liked their energy, and right now, Chris was among his favorites. If Jamie had been talking about him, maybe she missed him as much as he missed her, and that had to mean something.
“Besides, you know your Aunt Jamie has better taste than that,” Justin couldn’t help adding.
Nick laughed. “Seriously, Viera? Are we taking cheap high school shots now?” He turned to Chris. “I was not looking around for your Aunt Jamie,” he lied. “But I appreciate knowing she talks about me. In fact, feel free to tell me everything you’ve heard her say about me.”
“Chris — ” Justin shot his son a warning glance through the rear-view mirror.
“You know, Dad, if Aunt Jamie and Nick end up together, you and Nick would be like brothers, and wouldn’t that be fun?” Chris was obviously now enjoying the situation too much to worry about his father’s warnings.
“We’re about to see them together, Chris, and you’ll see — she couldn’t care less about this second-rate hockey player here,” Justin said, smiling a little too wide.
“Jamie’s at your parents’ house?” Nick asked, feeling his stomach sink. He’d missed her, but he sure as hell didn’t want to see her in this condition, and in front of her entire family.
Chapter Fourteen
By late afternoon, Jamie and Liz were finished stuffing the little pillows, and everyone was delighted. They looked adorable and very original. Timmy and Michael had been bored for a while now, and Isabella was fixing them a snack. Liz, Hannah, and Jamie were finishing sewing the pillows shut in companionable silence. The only sound came from the TV. Jamie was content, and she snuggled up to the feeling. With each stitch, she felt more and more at peace. Everything was wonderfully familiar.
And, though she tried to keep the thought in the back of her mind, Nick would be leaving soon, and the roller coaster ride of emotions she’d been on would finally stop. She was looking forward to getting back on the merry-go-round of life. Around and around, same view. No ups. No downs.
No Nick.
A sudden burst of cold wind came through the front door, along with her nephew’s enthusiastic cries. Jamie looked up.
“Grandpa, wait till you see Nick’s eye,” he shouted.
Nick’s eye?
Liz and Hannah rushed to the door. Dr. Viera peered out the window.
“Now, there’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” he said.
Jamie got up on the tips of her toes to look past Liz and Hannah out the door, and, sure enough, Justin and Nick were walking up the driveway. She quickly sat back down and began stitching as if her life depended on it.
“You didn’t do that to him, did you?” Liz shot Justin an accusing glance when they walked through the door.
“No, you could say he did it to himself.” Chris giggled.
Jamie stole a quick glance at Nick and did a double take when she saw his swollen eyelid. He was trying to squeeze his eye shut, the area around it was swollen red and purple, and he had a new cut, right on his eyebrow. She swallowed hard, stamping down the impulse to go to him.
“Is that Nicholas Grey?” Isabella came out of the kitchen smiling, but she immediately frowned and rushed toward Nick when she got a good look at him. Both her mother and Liz were now all over Nick. They sat him down between cries of oh, my god, oh, dear, and what happened? Jamie duly noted that even her mom and Liz were acting a little giddy around Nick. She looked over at Justin who was rolling his eyes.
“Exactly how did this happen?” Dr. Viera asked Nick when the ladies finally gave him enough room to shake his hand.
“I somehow got slapped hard under my visor by a rogue hockey puck.”
Dr. Viera brought out his medical equipment bag, and everyone was silent as he looked into Nick’s eye.
“I’m always telling Justin it’s such a rough sport. I don’t know why he doesn’t just quit already. His dad always wanted him to play baseball like a good Puerto Rican boy, but he never listened. And now look at what they did to you,” Liz muttered. Justin plopped himself down on the sofa in frustration.
“Liz’s right, baseball is not as dangerous.” Dr. Viera told Justin.
“Like you can’t get hit with a baseball, dad.”
“Your father didn’t want you playing hockey? You should’ve listened,” Nick said.
“He was devastated when Justin didn’t follow in his footsteps, and danger had nothing to do with it.” Isabella shook her head at her husband. “Would you like some coffee, Nick? I know it’s very cold outside. I’m sure it will make you feel better.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Viera, I’d love some,” Nick spoke to Isabella, but he shot a triumphant smile at Justin.
“What about us, Grandma, we were out in the cold, too, can I have some hot cocoa?” Chris protested as he followed his grandmother into the kitchen. At that moment, Nick looked at Jamie. He nodded a greeting in her direction and she nodded back.
“Try to open your eye and focus on a point directly behind me,” Dr. Viera requested. “Okay, good, now look toward your right. Left.” Dr. Viera continued to give instructions for a minute, and everyone was quiet.
“Well, everything looks fine on the surface, there’s only some mild bruising. You don’t have to go to the emergency room, but I’m going to give you a referral to Dr. Hall at First Regional. You should go first thing tomorrow morning. He’s got the equipment to take a better look, and we want to make sure there isn’t any damage further in,” Dr. Viera instructed.
Liz apparently remembered she was a doctor, too, and spoke up. “And you’ll need an eye patch, just like a pirate, all right? So you can give that eye some rest.” She had her pediatrician voice on, apparently forgetting she was speaking to a grown man.
“You don’t have to talk to him as if he’s five, Liz.” Justin shot her a weary look.
“It’s okay, Liz, I don’t mind,” Nick quickly responded.
“Isabella, do we have any optic antibiotic drops left from the blue crayon incident?” Dr. Viera called to his wife.
“Yes, the bottle is still almost full,” she called back.
“Can you get them for Nick?” he called again before turning to Nick. “I’m sure Dr. Hall will give you a new prescription, but you should get started on the eye drops right away. We don’t know how dirty that puck was, and you don’t want to get an infection,” he explained.
“What was the blue crayon incident?” Nick asked.
“Michael wanted someone in our family to have blue eyes like him, so he stuck a blue cray
on in my eye and tried to color it blue while I was asleep,” Dr. Viera explained.
“Here’s your coffee, Nick.” Isabella came out of the kitchen carrying a tray.
“Is there any coffee for me?” Justin asked.
“Yours is in the kitchen.”
“Nick!” Jamie heard an excited cry from the family room beyond the kitchen. A twin mini stampede ran through the kitchen and into the living room. “Yay, it’s Nick!” A second voice exclaimed. Nick laughed as her boys greeted him.
“Jamie? Jamie, where are you?” her father called.
Geez, her family could be loud. Jamie took a deep breath, and stood up. “I’m right here, dad.”
Nick was letting Michael and Timmy take turns examining his eye with Dr. Viera’s light and Jamie called, “Michael, be careful with Nick’s eye.”
“Listen, Jamie, I need you to make an eye patch out of a nonabrasive and clean material.” Her father pointed to the needle in Jamie’s hand.
“Michael, Timmy, be careful.” Jamie was more adamant this time.
“It’s okay. They’re just curious,” Nick said, not looking at her.
Jamie searched her old room, and the only soft, clean piece of material she could find was a bra she’d left behind the last time she’d stayed over. The night of the Christmas play. Memories of Nick backing her against the wall filled her with both pleasure and frustration. She sat on her old bed, tossed the bra’s padding aside, and got to work with some scissors and the needle. As she trimmed a bra cup and sewed straps onto it, she wondered at the cruel twist of fate that had brought Nick there.
She took her time, hoping everyone would be satisfied that Nick was okay, and that he would be ready to leave by the time she came out.
“Jamie, where are you? He needs to rest his eye,” Liz yelled from the living room.
Damn it, Liz could be bossy.
“I’m in my room. I’m almost done,” she called back.
“Geez, it’s an eye patch, not a blanket,” she heard Justin say.
