by Beth Ehemann
Desperate to tune the world out and focus on the St. Louis Blues offense that would be attacking my net within the next couple of hours, I put my earbuds in, turned AC/DC on and started re-taping the grip on my stick. Round and round my hand went as I willed my brain to concentrate on hockey and not snow, at least for the next few hours.
I felt someone sit down next to me and I looked to my right. Viper was staring straight ahead at his locker with a scowl on his face. I pulled my earbud out. “What’s up?”
“Nothin,’” he lied.
I knew Viper better than Viper knew Viper. “Liar.”
“Fuck you.”
“Alrighty then,” I said with a laugh as I put my bud back in.
He reached over and plucked it out. “Sorry.”
“Shut up, you’re fine. What’s going on?”
He shrugged. “You and Andy had your moments this morning. Now it’s my turn.”
“What? No!” Swinging my one leg over the bench, I turned toward him. “What happened to Viper Claus and you single-handedly saving Christmas if need be?” I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “C’mon, man. Snap out of it. We need you on the ice today. The Blues are breathing down our necks in the division. We can’t let them catch us.”
“It’s still early in the season,” he mumbled
“It is, but how many seasons come down to a one or two game difference? Get your head out of your ass. Let’s win this game and then you can sulk.”
He took a long, deep breath, inhaling through his nose. “You’re right.”
“Hell yeah I’m right! Now let’s go!” I punched his arm hard and he looked over at me with a big smile.
“You’re kinda dreamy when you’re all excited like that, Murphy,” he said as he gave me a wink.
“Ugh,” I groaned as I stood. “Welcome back, dickhead.” I put my earbud back in and let the music carry me to the start of the game.
Exactly two hours and twenty-four minutes later, we all walked back into the locker room with our heads hanging. We got the win, but it wasn’t pretty. We played like shit and only won because the Blues played shittier. Every single guy on the ice, including the refs, and the few fans who braved the weather to show up at the arena, had their minds elsewhere. It was obvious that we were all preoccupied. Christmas Eve was the next day and as much as we liked each other as teammates, we didn’t want to be with each other on that day.
We took our usual spots in the locker room and waited for Collins to come in and talk about the game, but when he walked through the door, something was different. He looked different; he walked different. The mood in the room shifted.
“So, I’m not gonna drag this out because I know we all want to get the hell out of here. No way is the plane going up in this weather. I’m sorry, guys. I know none of us want to be here tonight, but it is what it is.” He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “They’re going to let me know if, and when, we can get a plane tomorrow, but even that’s gonna be a stretch with this damn weather. All of you keep your phones on you, please. We’ll be in touch with more news soon.” With that, he turned and strode from the locker room just as upset as the rest of us were.
No one talked.
No one knew what to say.
We all knew it was coming, but it was still shocking when it did.
Some guys walked to the shower.
Some stood off in the corner on their phone.
Some just sat on the bench in a daze.
I rinsed off and threw my sweats back on, then walked over to my locker to pack up my things, thinking about Kacie and the girls the whole time.
How am I going to tell her this?
Her heart was going to sink and take mine right along with it.
I squatted down and began shoving my pads into my bag when Viper squatted down next to me and spoke quietly. “Don’t say a fucking word to anyone, but pack up quickly. When we get back to the hotel, instead of going up to your room, hang around the lobby until everyone leaves.”
I frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re leaving. Tonight.”
“What? How the fuck are you going to make that happen?”
He stared back at me and arched one eyebrow as a sly smile moved across his mouth. “I’m Viper Claus, remember?”
After snowmen, s’mores in the fireplace, and a shorter naptime than we would have liked, it was time for dinner. Kacie and Sophia had been cooking for us the whole week, so Darla, Dani and I got together and decided to surprise them and take over cooking and cleanup duty for the night.
“Wait, you’re going to cook dinner?” Kacie said to me with wide eyes when I told her.
“No, I’m not, you brat.” I smacked her arm. “Dani said I’m not allowed anywhere near the food, so I’m in charge of cleanup.”
She giggled. “That’s probably a good thing. I love you and all but you can’t cook to save your life.”
“Not only can’t she cook to save a life, she’d probably end someone else’s if she tried.” Darla let out a hefty laugh as she filled the large pot with water and set it on the stove.
My mouth fell open as I turned and whipped the dishtowel in my hand at the back of Darla’s head. “You’re a brat too!” Darla’s shoulders shook as she laughed but didn’t turn around.
“What are we having anyway?” Kacie asked as she sat at the island.
“We’re making pasta and a big ol’ salad. Oh!” I blurted, suddenly remembering the bread in the pantry. “I’m gonna cut the loaf of French bread while it’s still good.”
“What are we doing after dinner?” Darla asked.
I took a water bottle out of the fridge and slid it across the island to Kacie. “I don’t know, but my kids barely had naps today so I’m hoping they’re going to go down a little early. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I don’t want them to be cranky little monsters.”
A heaviness hung in the room as we exchanged awkward glances. I think we’d all been in denial that Christmas Eve was upon us and it was looking less and less likely that the boys were going to make it home.
Clearing my throat, I craned my neck and peeked over the couch at the kids. “I’m gonna go check on the little ones, I’ll be back.” I stood and walked into the family room, plopping down on the couch with the Emma and Becca. Lucy and Piper sat on the other couch with Grace and Maura snuggled up on their laps. “You guys are watching The Grinch again? Isn’t it like the tenth time?”
“Shhh!” Emma said, putting her finger up to her lips.
“Sorry,” I whispered. My eyes danced around the family room looking at all of Sophia’s beautiful decorations. The most amazing thing had to be her tree . . . standing nearly fifteen feet tall and covered floor to ceiling in ornaments. I walked over to get a closer look. Sophia’s tree looked more like a scrapbook than a tree, telling years of stories, memories, and accomplishments. Ornaments Kacie made as a kid with pictures of her toothless grin on them, handprints of the twins in hardened clay, a personalized toolbox ornament with Fred’s name on it. I always knew Kacie was sentimental like her mom, but at that moment, standing in front of Sophia’s tree, I got just how sentimental they both were.
Snowflakes glistening against the porch light caught my eye as they fell. I stepped to my right and moved closer to the French doors to get a better look. I cupped my hand around my eyes and leaned in against the glass to peek out and then let out a small gasp. The sparkling white and silver mounds flowed seamlessly over the deck, covering almost all of the deck furniture. Sophia’s birdhouse that sat on the table had completely disappeared. My eyes lifted past the deck out to the yard. Each limb of each tree looked like it wore a thick, white sparkly sweater of snow and the lake no longer existed, looking more like a plain field instead. Though it was breathtaking to look at, I knew it was damn near impossible to fly in. My pulse quickened with anxiety as I turned from the window.
All of the girls were still gawking at the TV with thei
r mouths hanging open, and I wasn’t ready to go back into the kitchen just yet, so I decided to check on the boys. As I headed down the hall to the playroom, I could hear them cheering. I knocked softly on the door and pushed it open. “Hey, guys.”
They both looked up from the board game they were playing long enough to smile and say hello.
“What are you guys playing?” I sat on the edge of the couch and leaned forward to try and see better.
“Monopoly,” Logan said.
“Monopoly?!” I exclaimed. “Logan, you know Matthew’s only six, right?”
Logan nodded.
“And this game is a little old for him and he might not fully understand it yet?”
Logan’s eyes lifted to mine. “He’s winning,” he said dryly.
Matthew smiled proudly as he lifted his huge stack of fake cash in the air.
I laughed and sat back against the couch as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, then, carry on.”
Logan picked up a card from the stack in the middle and read it out loud. “You have been elected chairman of the board. Pay each player fifty dollars.” He groaned and picked up some of his play money, reluctantly handing it to Matthew.
“So, how come you two are hiding out in here rather than watching The Grinch?” I asked.
Matthew’s eyes rose up to look at Logan who just shrugged. “I don’t know,” Logan said, “We’ve seen The Grinch a million times already . . .” He trailed off but I knew he wasn’t saying something.
“And . . .”
“And . . . we kinda wanted a break from the girls for a little bit.” His face snapped toward me to see if he was in trouble for saying that.
“I get it,” I said softly.
His eyebrows rose and his expression was alarmingly like his father’s. “You do?”
“Yep, I do.” I repeated. “Michael is too little to be part of your team, so it’s just you two big guys stuck in this house with a whole lotta girls.”
“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Until dad and the other guys get home, then it’ll be better.” I pressed my lips together to keep to keep my mouth from opening and saying the words that would break his little heart right there in the playroom, but he sensed it anyway. “They’re not gonna make it, are they?”
I peered from his blue eyes to Matthew’s and back again. “Buddy, we don’t know anything yet. Just think positive, okay?”
His shoulders slumped slightly as he looked down at the ground and nodded.
Ruffling his wavy blond hair, I stood and walked to the door, but turned back before I got to the hall. “I mean it . . . just say a little prayer and think good thoughts, okay? It’s the season of Christmas miracles. Maybe that plane will take off after all.”
Our plane isn’t gonna be able to take off after all.
I sent the text to Kacie and set my phone down on the table in the hotel lobby, glaring at Andy. “I still don’t get why we have to lie to them. Why can’t we just tell them that we’re going to drive home?”
Andy sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Trust me, I wanna tell Dani, too. But he’s kinda right, Brody. What if we tell them we’re going to drive, and then something happens and we’re not able to make it? Then they’ve had their hearts broken twice.”
My phone beeped and I pinched my eyes shut tight. I didn’t want to read whatever it was she’d just answered back, but I had to.
Kacie: For sure? Is that the final answer? What happens now? Do you try again tomorrow?
I could picture the panic on her face as she frantically typed those words out. It was frustrating for me not to tell her that we were at least going to try, but Andy had a point. I couldn’t disappoint her twice. Plus, we didn’t even know if we were going to have a car yet. Viper was trying to figure that out now.
The plane is for sure not taking off. I’m so sorry, baby. I have no idea what’s going to happen from this point on, but I’ll let you know as soon as we hear something from Collins. Don’t be too discouraged yet. Maybe we can get out tomorrow morning or something. I love you.
Kacie: Maybe. I love you too.
Her text was short, but it said all that needed to be said.
She was heartbroken.
Deflated.
I knew she was upset, but there wasn’t much I could do to help from St. Louis. If anything, all that text did was fuel my desire to get home to her.
“Where is he with that damn car?” I mumbled out loud, not really to anyone.
“What are you guys still doing down here?” A voice boomed.
Coach Collins was standing behind me when I turned around. “Hey, coach. We just haven’t gone up to the room yet.” I hated lying to coach but, unfortunately, that lie needed to be told. No way would he okay us leaving and driving home without the team. We could be in serious trouble for doing what we were about to do, but I was willing to take the repercussions if it meant getting home to my family. Glancing nervously toward the huge glass front doors of the hotel, I prayed that Viper didn’t pull up just then.
“Yeah, hard to wind down after a game like that. And then this weather isn’t helping at all.” He turned his head and glanced at the shower of snow out the front door.
Go upstairs. Go upstairs. Go upstairs.
“Yeah, we’ll head up soon, though.” I tried not to say too much and prolong the conversation. He needed to leave before Viper showed up and we were all screwed. Except Andy. He was allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted. Viper and me? Not so much.
“Alright, boys. I’m beat so I’m heading up.” He patted my shoulder and walked off toward the elevator. Without moving my head, I slid my eyes over and followed him until he disappeared around the corner.
Andy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking straight at me. “You might want to prepare yourself,” he said in a low, quiet whisper.
“Huh?”
“While you and Collins were talking, I texted Viper to see what the hell was going on with the car and he said the place was packed and they were practically out of cars.”
“Fuck!” I said as my head dropped against the back of the couch, feeling defeated.
“No, no. He got one, but he said there wasn’t a lot to choose from and—” he stopped talking as a huge grin broke out across his face.
“And what?” I asked nervously.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “And we couldn’t be mad at him.”
“Are you kidding me? What did he get?”
He shook his head, “I have no idea. He wouldn’t tell me but he’s almost here, so pick up your shit and let’s head outside.”
I sighed as I stood and pulled my Wild beanie onto my head, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “When Lawrence Finkle tells you not to get mad, that’s a bad, bad sign.”
Andy laughed as we walked toward the front door and waited. The receptionist stood and twirled her hair around her finger, completely bored out of her mind. No one checking in, no one checking out. She’d probably be standing there like that for a few days.
I felt a slap on my chest and looked at Andy, who was looking past me out the front door. He motioned his head, “Look. Headlights. I can’t imagine any other lunatic would be out in this.”
I turned and squinted to see better, but between the snow and the thick frame of the door I couldn’t make much out. “Let’s head out,” I said as I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head.
We braced ourselves for the shock of the blistering cold and opened the door, holding our breath as the frigid air slapped us in the face. I finally got used to the wind and cracked my eyes open. “No fucking way,” I said incredulously.
Pulling up to the curb was Viper—in a bright green Volkswagen Beetle, wearing a Santa hat as he hung halfway out the window, singing at the top of his lungs, “Here comes Viper Claus, here comes Viper Claus, right down Viper Claus lane!”
“Uh . . . this is a joke right?” Andy said as Viper parked the car and hopped out.
&
nbsp; “No, it’s not a joke.” He walked around to the back and opened the trunk, “This was literally the last car they had and our only shot at getting home in time. Now, toss your shit in there, hop on my sleigh and let me fly your asses home.”
Andy and I exchanged skeptical glances, but we didn’t have any other options. “Rock, paper, scissors for shotgun?” I asked him as we dropped our bags in the trunk.
“You can have it,” he said. “That crazy son of a bitch is hopped up on candy canes and adrenaline and he’s gonna sing the whole way home. You sit up there with him, and I’ll throw my earbuds in and sleep in the backseat.”
I got in the car, closed the door and buckled my seatbelt before looking over at Viper, who was staring at me with a wild grin on his face. “Oh God. You’re gonna drive me fucking nuts, aren’t you?”
He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Five hundred fifty-eight miles to go!”
“Seventy-one bottles of beer on the wall, seventy-one bottles of beeeeeeeeer, take one down and pass it around—”
“Where are we?” Andy shouted over Viper’s loud singing.
“Uh—” I looked down at the GPS on my phone, “—about twenty miles outside of St. Louis . . . a town called Chesterfield. Why?”
Andy sighed and looked out the window. “Just trying to decide if it would be a good town to dump his dead body in or if I should wait a little bit.”
I looked out the window at the tunnel of snow the car was slowly crawling through. The headlights only lit up about five feet in front of us and we had yet to go faster than twenty miles per hour. “I don’t know,” I said to Andy. “At this rate he’s going to tire out quickly and we’re going to have to take turns driving, and three is better than two, so let’s wait a little longer before we ditch him.”
We’d been in the car for three hours and only gone sixty-five miles. “This sucks,” I groaned, suddenly glad that we didn’t tell the girls we were leaving. At this rate, there was a chance we really wouldn’t make it home before Christmas Day.
