Eagle River

by Isabelle Kane

  Tom scowled disapprovingly.

  “Relax, Coach,” Cam smiled a sardonic half smile against his tanned skin. He picked up his napkin and tucked it into his pocket. “I’m working at that knight in shining honor stuff. You’re right, a lot of girls go for that.”

  “You could try a little sincerity.”

  “Oh, cut the crap, Coach. We both know that you’re no different than me. You forget, I knew you when you were a player, back when you dated my mom. You knew all the angles, just like me. That’s the thing that burns you, isn’t it? You were just like me. Now you’re all married and reformed. But back in the day, you were just like me.” And not like Galen Odgers.

  “Point taken,” Tom acknowledged. “It’s because we are alike that I’m trying to prevent you from making the same mistakes that I’ve made in my life.”

  “I’m a big boy now, Coach, and I’ve been handling my own business for years.

  “That’s true,” Tom acknowledged. “You’re looking well, Cam. You’re playing well, too. You’re doing a good job on the football part of the deal, you just gotta work on the personal side. Remember, it’s a package deal.” Just then, the waitress arrived with their drinks.

  Cam reflected on how Coach had changed. The gray haired, content, slightly thickened at the waist man sitting in front of him was a far cry from the magnetic football hero of Cam’s youth. In the past few years, Coach had definitely lost the hungry, haunted look that had characterized him as a younger man. He remained a rugged, good looking, older man, but his edge was gone. He was wholly domesticated. Deliberately, Cam dismissed his critical thoughts. Coach had let things go a little, but he was still one of the few who could understand, who could appreciate Cam’s efforts.

  “With the NFL draft coming up, the scouts and the reporters are digging through everything. I talk to a chick and I wonder if she has been hired by someone. This dude offered me some hash last night. He’s a friend of mine. I almost killed him because there were people around who might be from some team. It’s enough to make a guy seriously paranoid.”

  “You’re eating it up, Cam. Don’t bullshit me. I know you too well, just like you know me.”

  Cam grinned. “Everyone likes to be appreciated. It’s nice to get some attention.”

  “You put in a solid season. You’ll end up playing professional football somewhere.”

  “Somewhere,” Cam echoed. He toyed with his drink. His expression had undergone a dramatic change, from pleasant and relaxed to brooding. “I read an article in Sports Illustrated about how this year’s draft class is kind of weak, but how there are some superstars coming out next year.”

  “I saw it, too. They mentioned Galen Odgers,” Tom commented. “The article said he was one of the most talented young quarterbacks coming up.”

  “What the hell? Give me a break.” Cam scowled. “All it is is spin with Odgers. Smoke and mirrors. He’s got nothin’.”

  “Galen is a ball player, plain and simple. He has all the gifts.”

  “If you’re going to waste my time talking about Odgers, let’s just call it a night.” Cam rose abruptly to his feet.

  For a moment, Tom studied his former player. “You know, don’t you, Cam?”

  “That Galen is your son? Yeah, I figured it out. I am surprised no one else has. When you look at the two of you it is pretty obvious.”

  “It’s true. I’m proud of that boy. But you were always special to me, Cam. I may not have told you ever, but I’m proud of you, too. You may not be my own flesh and blood, but I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were.”

  Cam swallowed hard and took a deep breath. It took him a moment to compose himself. Then, he stared at Coach. These were the words that he had always longed to hear and had never expected. He hesitated.

  Tom toyed with the candle in the jug in the middle of the table. “I never knew how to raise a son, but I could coach and that’s what I did with you boys. I like to imagine that I made a difference in the lives of the young men I’ve coached. I know I sound corny, but Maggie tells me I have to speak from the heart. But that means I gotta tell you what I think. Cam, you’ve got a big chip on your shoulder. You always have. It’s weighing you down. Forget about how everyone else is doing and worry about yourself. You have some good skills. Work at making them better. You’re not the biggest or strongest, so be more accurate than the others.”

  “I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned what I’ve got. I deserve to play ball in the pros.”

  “Who you trying to convince?” Tom observed wryly. “The scouts are talking about you going in the third or fourth round of the draft. It’s all going to work out just fine.”

  Cam visibly tensed. “I just hope that I get picked.” He drew absentmindedly with his fork on his woven place mat. “They’re saying that I don’t have the power or size to make it as a quarterback in the NFL, that I might end up playing Canadian football.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the CFL, Cam. Lots of good ball players play in that league.”

  “Beautiful. I’ll be playing in the Klondike. Ice ball.”

  “You do a good job up there, and you would have more credibility to the NFL. There are a lot of decent places where you could play. Montreal and Vancouver are both great towns.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Well, as long as I get to play and can make some money.”

  “You’re lucky you’re good enough to go pro. Think about all the poor bastards who aren’t. Most of them don’t even get a degree out of their college years... Will you earn your degree in May?”

  “I gotta couple of credits left, but I can finish them whenever.”

  “Make a point of doing it. You gotta have a degree for the real world, when you’re done playing ball. Save money while you’re playing. Invest it. Then, when you’re done, you can do what you want with your life. You’ll have money, a name, and a degree. You’ll be able to get on with your life.”

  “I’ll be careful. One day, I’m gonna be rolling in the green stuff. Now that the season is over, I’ve been talking to some agents about endorsement opportunities.”

  “I should have known better than to worry about your business sense,” Tom snorted.

  “You got that right. I’m gonna be rich. Besides, I have responsibilities. I have a daughter now.”

  Tom Murray coughed, choked, and then blew his soda out his nose. As he wiped at his face with a napkin, Cam simply waited with his eyes twinkling in amusement. This time, he’d gotten his former coach’s attention.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Mackie’s about six months old.”

  “Who is the mother?”

  “Her name is Sarah. We dated for a little while and the girl was pretty cool. Then, she kinda lost it, wanted to be around me all of the time, and started whining about marriage and commitment. So I told her to get out. I didn’t hear from her for a couple of months, then her lawyer contacted me. We did the DNA test. Sure enough, the kid is mine. So, now I’m hooked into paying child support for the next twenty years. But I gotta tell you,” Cam leaned forward, his face, lit up and enthusiastic, “I don’t mind. That little girl, aw man, she’s a doll. Mackie. Her name’s Mackenzie, she even looks like me. I get a kick out of holding her. I like being a dad. I’ve been thinking that I might want her around more of the time. You know, shared custody. You want to see her picture?”

  It was Tom’s turn to sit back and watch in bemusement as Cam pulled a photo of a cherubic dark-haired baby girl out of his wallet. Two enormous bright blue eyes dominated the chubby little face. Tom took the picture.

  “Don’t blow it, Cam.” Tom’s voice was serious, all traces of banter gone. “I can’t tell you how lucky I am to be getting this second chance with Maggie. Being alone is tough... You’ve gotta keep your nose clean and your head on straight. You gotta take care of that little girl. I envy you the chance to have a relationship with your own child.”

  “I plan to. Mackie’s my daughter. I’m going to take care of my girl.
I am going to be a good father.” Cam finally dropped his searing stare from Tom’s face. He exhaled slowly, allowing the tension to drain from him. When he raised his face, the venom was gone, the smooth, handsome mask was back in place. “Son of a bitch, Coach, you’re probably the only man who still tries to tell me how to run my life.”

  Tom raised his bottle. “Well, here’s to football and to kids. The two best things in life.” He paused for a moment, his face contemplative. Cam could see the wheels spinning.

  It was then that both of them became aware of the scream of fire engines rushing by. Sal appeared, rushing his massive bulk towards the door.

  “What’s up?” Tom called out.

  “There’s a fire at the Odger place! The old barn is going down, maybe the house.”

  “Is anyone at home?”

  “Galen and the old man, for sure,” Sal shouted back.

  “I’m coming, too.” Tom was already on his feet. He glanced back at Cam.

  Cam merely waved his hand. “Get going, coach. He’s your boy. I get it.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Conflagration

  ~ Galen ~

  Galen never knew what woke him up that night. Is it morning yet? He rolled over in bed and lifted up the shade. There was a red, bright glow behind his shade. Blood red moon tonight. Weird.

  Having to take a piss, he kicked his legs over the bed. He heard roaring outside. Windy. Padding his way to the bathroom, he wiped at his forehead. It’s warm in here. Hot. Why did Pa turn up the heat?

  It was then that he heard the sirens. Perplexed, he padded down the hallway towards the kitchen. There was a flicking light coming from under the door. “Pop, you in there?” He reached for the doorknob. “Shit!” It burned his hand.

  He leaped back. Fire! There was a fire in the front rooms of the house. He rushed back into his room and grabbed a t-shirt. He wrapped it around his hand, hurried back through the hall and, grasping the doorknob, he pulled it wide.

  A blast of heat and red orange light hit him and he fell back. He threw the door shut. Smoke detectors, why weren’t they working. He glanced at the one over his bedroom door. It hung open and there was no battery to be seen. There was no way that he was going to make it to the front door through the kitchen. So, he ran towards the back hall. Maybe I can make it through the back door. He ran to the door to the mudroom. He could see the flames outside the windows. They were huge and terrifying. One entire side of the house was burning.

  The screen porch. Galen could see the flames dancing there as well. He was truly trapped. All three doors to the outside of the house, the front door, through the mudroom, and out through the screen porch were blocked with flames. The windows. Suddenly, over the roar of the flames, he heard the crash of glass. Covering his head with his arms against the flames now leaping out at him from the walls, he ran blindly back to the sound, down the hall, towards his bedroom. It was getting harder to see and nearly impossible to breath.

  Suddenly, there was another crash, and an axe thrust through the remains of his bedroom window.

  Galen, coughing, stepped back.

  “Galen? That you?” a firefighter demanded in that automated robot voice of the respirator.

  “Gene?” Galen questioned, recognizing the cafe owner who also served as a volunteer firefighter in Eagle River.

  Barely aware of the glass cutting into his feet, Galen climbed out of the frame of his first floor window. Once outside, he saw a small group of firefighters were gathered there.

  Suddenly, a body slammed into his bod.

  “Slow down, Kjersten,” Gene directed. “He’s bleeding. His feet. We need to get him checked out. He breathed in a lot of smoke.”

  Sobbing, she held onto him. “I thought you were dead. Thank God you’re okay!”

  In shock, struggling to breathe, with burnt hands and cut feet, he held onto her. “What’s happening, Gene?”

  “The barn caught on fire first. Then, the house. We didn’t know how to get you out. Kjersten, here, brought us around to your room.”

  “I was driving by and I saw the fire,” Kjersten broke in.

  “Is there anyone else inside?” Gene demanded.

  “Pop! He must still be inside.”

  “No,” Kjersten broke in. Her features were tinged crimson by the rising flames. “He’s not.”

  “Where is he?” Galen demanded.

  Kjersten shook her head.

  “Gene? Where’s Pop?”

  But Gene and the other firefighters were already hurrying around to the front of the house, leaving Galen and Kjersten to follow along behind.

  As they rounded the corner of the house, Galen could feel the heat from the fire on his face. The entire front facade was burning, but the old barn was a flame unto itself. The entire structure was in flames. The wind whipped the flames which roared. As he watched, the barn door collapsed, revealing the inside, the loft and the stalls. Galen made out a dark figure standing up in the hay loft.

  “My God,” Kjersten whispered.

  “Pop?”

  “He wouldn’t come down. They tried to get him to come down. But he wouldn’t.”

  Galen stared in horror and dismay at the darkened figure of the man whom he’d once thought was his father. He was standing absolutely still and upright, like a black statue against the flames. There was a rumble and a growl. Then, the roof of the barn collapsed and the flames reached hungrily for the sky.

  “No!” Galen yelled, rushing forward, but he was tackled from behind. He fought and scrambled, trying to get free. “I have to get to him! I have to save him. Pop!” He fought with near superhuman strength, but the firefighters held him until he collapsed, sobbing.

  * * * *

  Hours later, Kyle waited in the chair by the side of the hospital bed. Groaning, he shifted. “You think that we’re ever going to get out of here?” he muttered.

  “What?” Galen asked from where he lay still in his hospital dress. He rested his bandaged hand beside him on the bed,

  “I said, do you think that we’re ever going to get out of here? You know, it gets old seeing you in hospitals.”

  “For me, too. I’m ready to go,” Galen commented morosely. “Where are we going?”

  “Good point,” Kyle conceded, leaning his head back against the chair. “You’ll stay with me tonight.”

  “I still can’t believe that Pop did it? I mean why now?”

  “He knew we were going to sell off the land. Let’s face it, he may have been off his rocker, but he wasn’t stupid. I don’t claim to understand why he did what he did, but maybe he didn’t see any alternatives. Maybe he was just done.”

  “I think he was done a long time ago.”

  “I just hope,” Galen paused.

  “What?”

  “That maybe he’s finally at peace.”

  Kyle nodded. “That was a hell of a way to go. You think he meant to kill himself?”

  “Who knows?”

  Both men were silent for a moment.

  “So what now?” Kyle asked.

  “I guess we plan a funeral and then get on with things.”

  “Things,” Kyle repeated. “When the hell are we going to get out of here? You can walk, can’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Galen agreed. “And my lungs feel okay.”

  “But your feet are wrecked and your arms don’t look great either. What were you doin’ trying to run into that fire?”

  Galen glanced down to where the aforementioned appendages were wrapped in gauze. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I was thinking. I guess I wanted to save him.”

  Kyle patted his shoulder. “Gene said there was no way anyone could survive after the roof collapsed.” Kyle was silent. “All of us tried to save him for years, and we all failed. I guess you gotta want to be saved. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m gonna go get a Coke,” he said as he rose to his feet, opened the door into the hospital corridor, and wandered down the hallway, peering into the darkened corners, seeking o
ut a pop machine. He wandered up to a nurse’s station.

  “Can I help you?” an efficient-looking, middle-aged woman asked him.

  “I’m just looking for a pop machine.”

  “Just out there, in the waiting area.”

  Kyle headed through the doors. He saw the concession machines and the pop machines. There, he dug in his pocket and pushed a quarter into the machine.

  “Kyle?”

  Kyle startled and then turned. “Yeah?” He turned and saw Kjersten Solheim standing there, her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she had been crying.

  “How’s Galen?” she asked.

  “He’s gonna be fine. He’s a tough little shit.”

  “Oh, good.” She hesitated a moment. “They wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”

  “Well, his feet are a little crispy, but he’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good news.” She chewed on her lip nervously. “Would you tell him that I was here?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Still not moving, she stared at him. “Well, I guess I’ll just go home now.” She turned slowly, and rubbing her arms walked towards the glass exit doors.

  Kyle watched her go, shoved another quarter into the pop machine, and then pressed the button for a Mountain Dew. It dropped down, he grabbed it, popped the top, and took a long swig, savoring the cold lemon-lime burn down his throat. He headed back to Galen’s room, opened the door and plopped down in the chair. “Well, that was weird.”

  Galen glanced over at his brother. “What?”

  “You won. Kjersten Solheim was in the waiting room this whole time. It’s been hours.”

  “Go get her.” Galen sat up straighter in the bed.

  “She just left.”

  “Go after her.”

  “No, I saw her go out the door.”

  “Shit, Kyle. Why didn’t you bring her in here? You think she’s still in the parking lot?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll go check.”

  Kyle was only gone a moment. “No. She’s gone.”

  “Shoot, Kyle. Why didn’t you stop her? Bring her in here?”