Blindsided: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Victoria Denault

  “Just please keep an open mind. Both of you.”

  She opens the door and holds it for me and Tate to step inside. The place is cozy and smells like espresso beans and buttery baked goods. My eyes scan the room. There’re a few people in line by the counter with a display case of decadent-looking muffins and cookies and a smiling blonde lady serving everyone. To the right side of the room there’re tables and chairs clustered about, and I see a patio at the other end for warmer days. My eyes bounce around to all the occupied tables and stop dead on one in particular. Before Daisy even says a word I know the woman with the shoulder length strawberry-gray hair and camel-colored sweater with her hands clenched together on the tabletop next to an untouched muffin is my grandmother.

  She’s sitting next to a raven-haired woman who is talking but her gaze floats up to us. Daisy waves and she stands. Betsy’s amber eyes jump from me to Daisy and back to me and she smiles, tears brimming in her eyes. I can see her internal struggle to contain them and I’m having the same one. Tate’s arm gently wraps around my shoulders.

  The woman she was talking to stands too. She’s got near black hair, peppered with gray and dark green eyes. The color of…the color of Tate’s.

  “Hi again,” Daisy says easily to our grandmother and they hug. Then she hugs the woman with the green eyes. Daisy takes a deep breath. “Maggie and Tate, this is Betsy Levy, formerly Elizabeth Todd.”

  “Hi,” she says simply. “Oh my you are beautiful, Magnolia.”

  “She is,” Tate pipes in and reaches out to shake her hand which she accepts. I can’t seem to move at all so I just watch, wordless.

  “And this,” Daisy says motioning toward the other woman. “Is her life partner. Marty Dunn. Formerly Martha Adler.”

  Boom.

  Seconds tick by with nothing but the bustle of the coffee shop and the chatter of other customers buzzing around us as we all stand still and silent. Then Tate speaks, his voice high yet rough. “What?”

  “I’m Martha Adler,” the woman repeats. “Well, I was when I was married to George Adler. Your father…he’s my son.”

  I finally move, reaching out and grabbing Tate’s hand in mine, hoping my touch steadies him the way his does me. Because it’s all I can do while this bomb goes off in front of us.

  22

  Tate

  Daisy motions for us to sit across from the couple, and Maggie and I do. Then she reaches for a chair from a nearby empty table for herself but she doesn’t sit. She announces she’s going to go get us some food and drinks and urges Betsy and Marty to tell us what they told her earlier this week.

  They do.

  Betsy’s side of the story is easy to accept. She married Clyde, her high school boyfriend, because it was expected of her. They were young—nineteen—both local kids with not much else expected of them except to get married, have babies, and in Clyde’s case take over the family farm. And that’s what they did. But was it love? According to Betsy no, not for either of them. The only really shocking part is that Clyde wasn’t a heavy drinker back then. Shortly after Maggie and Daisy’s dad was born, my grandfather bought the farm next door and moved in with his wife and infant son—my own father. That part is the history I know. But the young wife was supposed to be Faith Brent Adler. That’s what I was always told.

  “George and I were even less of a love story than Betsy and Clyde,” Marty explains to us all as Daisy comes back with three fruity smelling teas and a variety of muffins. “George was the hotshot playboy in my hometown. He was out for any conquest he could get. I was trying to convince myself I didn’t like girls. So we slept together, and I got knocked up.”

  “With…with my dad?” I croak out. I can’t believe this. How is this true? How did I never know? How does my dad not know?

  Marty nods and continues. “We married. We were both miserable from the beginning. He cheated like it was his job. I tried to leave him, but he promised he would change. We both just needed a fresh start. A simpler life. So he convinced me to buy a farm with the little money we had and move to Vermont.”

  According to both Betsy and Marty, George and Clyde became fast friends. Best friends. And their wives did too, helping each other out with the kids and confiding in each other about the dismal state of both their marriages. And then…they fell in love.

  “I know the history books like to portray the seventies as a decade of free love and liberal awakening, but that wasn’t exactly true everywhere,” Betsy says, gently placing a hand over Marty’s as if she’s trying to comfort her. “And Clyde and George, when they caught us, made sure it wasn’t the case for us.”

  “Our great, great gramps was a judge,” Daisy interjects as she reaches for a poppy seed and lemon muffin. Neither Maggie nor I have touched any food or drink and neither have Betsy or Marty. “Clyde’s mom’s father, and he made it clear Clyde and George would retain custody. Full custody.”

  “George was still cheating and he had knocked up a waitress in town named Faith,” Marty adds and she might as well have just punched me in the gut. “Your grandma, as you know her. So he convinced me, pressured me, to sign away my rights and let Faith adopt Vinnie.”

  Vinnie. Nobody calls him that. In fact if they try in front of George he corrects them. Now I know why.

  “He swore that Faith would love him and treat him like her own. There was no way they were going to give custody to two adulterous lesbians, not back then. So I gave them Vinnie, legally,” Marty says, her voice breaking and a tear slipping down her cheek. I don’t know if I forgive this woman. I don’t know anything except that I’m not going to make her pain worse right now by telling her that they lied. They didn’t treat my dad the same as they did their daughter Louise. And now I know why. And he will too. I intend to tell him.

  “This is a lot to unpack,” I say and Maggie’s hand reaches for mine under the table. I squeeze it and my shoulders relax a little. “I had no idea that you exist.”

  Marty nods. “I know. I’m sorry. I am willing to stay gone if that’s what you think is right. But Betsy… She always wanted to reconnect with her boys, so when Daisy found her… Well, her truth is impossible to tell without mine and I wasn’t going to deny her this. She’s the love of my life.”

  “That part I get,” I admit and squeeze Maggie’s hand again. She looks over at me and blushes.

  “These two are like madly in love and stuff,” Daisy announces, pointing at us and smiling. “But George and Clyde and everyone else refuse to let them be together.”

  “You’re not exactly innocent there, Daze,” I can’t help but remind her.

  “That’s why I’m doing this,” Daisy says, looking me in the eye with a pained expression. “This feud, the hate that has infected all of us thanks to George and Clyde’s lies, stops here. If you let it.”

  “So you are dating?” Marty asks me and Maggie.

  “We were. But our families are making it impossible,” Maggie says. “Clyde is threatening to sell the farm out from under us, and Daisy and I have hinged our whole future on it.”

  “Wow.” Betsy shakes her head sadly. “History really does repeat itself.”

  “Don’t let them do it,” Marty says firmly. “Please don’t. I regret a lot of things in my life, but I don’t regret not letting anyone keep me from Betsy.”

  We talk for about another half hour. They ask Maggie and me all about our lives and we tell them and they tell us about their life together in Maine. Marty explains she had purposely kept herself from Googling anything Adler-related for decades but after they met Daisy, she did a Google search and was blown away by my hockey achievements. “You know, my dad was a hockey player. He was good but didn’t make the NHL. He would be so thrilled that he has a grandson about to be drafted.”

  Wow. Hockey is literally in my blood. I love that.

  “I’m entering the draft,” I have to correct because I don’t want to jinx anything. “Whether I’m actually drafted isn’t a guarantee.”

  “Whe
ther you do or don’t, you’ve accomplished a lot and you should be very proud,” Marty says and then her smile fades and her eyes grow somber. “Listen, Tate, if you decide not to tell your father and your brother about me I understand. And if you decide you don’t want to see me again, that’s okay too.”

  “I want them to know. They have a right to know and to be honest, I don’t want to carry this secret around with me,” I tell her. Her face clouds with worry. “If you’re worried that they will have a problem with you being gay, I can say without an ounce of doubt Jace and my dad won’t care about that in the slightest. You never trying to reach out to us…that’s a whole other thing that is going to take some time and forgiveness. But they can’t forgive you if they don’t even know about you.”

  Marty smiles tentatively. “Well, Daisy has our contact information. Feel free to reach out, or give it to them, or whatever you feel is best. Thank you for meeting me. It…it was a dream come true.”

  I reach out and hug my grandmother for the first time.

  We wait until Betsy and Marty drive away before getting into Daisy and Maggie’s car. Daisy slides behind the wheel again but I grab Maggie’s hand and pull her into the backseat with me before she can climb into the passenger seat. I reach across her and lock her seatbelt in and give in to the urge to kiss her at the same time. She lets me and kisses me back.

  “If I see anything that’s rated R back there, I am pulling over and separating you two,” Daisy warns. I break the kiss reluctantly and find her eyes narrowed as she stares at us in the rearview.

  “Relax Doody,” I joke and wink at her. “The last thing I want is to give you a show.”

  Daisy huffs in disapproval at her unwanted childhood nickname and pulls out of the parking lot. Maggie snuggles into me and I watch the Vermont scenery on the side of the highway—jutting rock and trees with colorful leaves—blur by. This is all so much, and maybe I’m in shock, but I’m not freaking out. I’m worried for my dad, but I’m hopeful too because the truth will be exposed and whatever happens next, at least it will be based in honesty. And I am going to be honest with my family too—about what I want and who I want.

  “Can you drop me at my farm, Daisy?”

  “If you never call me Doody again, yeah I can,” she says and I feel Maggie’s body shake against me as she giggles.

  “Deal,” I say. Ten minutes later, Daisy starts to slow and pull to the side of the road beside my driveway. “No. Drive right on up.”

  “Umm…” Daisy glances back at me with wary eyes. “Doesn’t George own a shotgun?”

  But she turns up the driveway anyway and stops just in front of the house. I turn to Maggie. “See you at the Harvest Festival tonight?”

  “Ah…” Maggie blinks up at me, confused.

  “Just come. Please.”

  “Okay,” she relents.

  “And bring some of your products,” I tell her. “Honey, caramels, goat cheese, but not the stinky kind. The mouthgasm stuff you once told me about.”

  She laughs and I steal a much quicker kiss than I’d like and get out of the car. As I close the door, I hear Gramps’s booming voice as he barges toward me from the barn. “What the hell are they doing here?”

  Daisy is already driving away when I turn to him and respond. “They’re dropping me home so I can talk to you. About Martha Dunn.”

  George’s face turns a shade of gray that matches the fading paint on our farmhouse. I walk up to him slowly. “Gramps, it’s time for the truth.”

  23

  Maggie

  I walk into the Harvest Festival being held in Battery Park with trepidation. Not because this is the first year the city has held this festival and I don’t know what to expect but because I don’t know what to expect from Tate or the Adler family or even my own family at this point. We swung by our own farm after we dropped off Tate at his, and no one was there except my mom. She said my dad and my uncles had a big blowout with Clyde over the news Daisy had shared and they’d all disappeared.

  I reposition the bag that’s on my shoulder filled with our products, like Tate asked, and wander through the park. Daisy stays close to my side. Most of the town seems to be here enjoying the event, browsing the artisan booths, ordering from the food trucks, hanging out in the little beer garden, or riding some of the rides and playing some of the games. With the fairy lights in the trees it’s like a mini-carnival, really. I glance over at the tiny stage where a band is tuning up. Next to the stage is a small beer garden and that’s when I see my uncles and my dad sitting at one of the picnic benches there. I grab Daisy’s hand. “Look. Five o’clock.”

  She turns her head and squeezes my hand. “They look…sad? Maybe angry? I can’t tell.”

  “Let’s go find out.” I tug her with me as I cross the grass.

  Uncle Bobby sees us first and gives us a small wave and a smile. “Hey girls.”

  My dad looks up, shocked. “Did Mom send you out looking for us?”

  “She worried we killed the old man?” Ben asks as he lifts a half-empty pint to his lips.

  “No we’re here…just for us and happened to see you,” I say, not willing to throw Tate’s name out there right now. It feels like it would be throwing gasoline on a fire.

  “Did you? Kill Grandpa?” Daisy asks timidly and I’m shocked she called him grandpa. We haven’t done that since we were about seven.

  Dad smiles up at her. “No honey. He’s still alive. Still gonna sell the farm out from under us. Still an asshole who has no remorse about tearing up years of letters and cards and making his kids think their mother abandoned them.”

  Ouch.

  “Are you guys mad at me?” Daisy wants to know. “For finding her?”

  The three of them shake their heads in unison.

  “Nah, Daze,” Bobby says. “I’m not sure I want to meet her yet…but I'm not mad at you for finding her.”

  “You did the right thing telling us the truth, Daisy Mae,” Dad says and smiles at her softly before turning to look at me. “You meet her too?”

  I nod. “I think I like her. And her wife.”

  “They aren’t legally married,” Daisy interjects. “Marty and Betsy. In fact Betsy is still legally married to Clyde.”

  “What?” Bobby gasps and Ben and my dad look equally stunned.

  Daisy nods. “I’ll stop talking now. I feel like there’s been enough plot twists.”

  Daisy’s words mean nothing because when it comes to plot twists, apparently the universe isn’t done.

  “Hey. You came.” Tate’s voice hits my ears and I spin to find him standing just a little behind me in a pair of jeans and his hockey jersey. He’s smiling at me. It’s big and warm and makes me smile back without even thinking about it.

  “I got the stuff you asked for,” I say and hold out the bag.

  He takes it, glances inside it and nods.

  “What’s going on?” My dad asks and he stands up without his cane. He wobbles and Tate instantly reaches out to grab his elbow to steady him. Dad pulls his arm away and leans on the picnic table for support. “I’m fine. Why are you here, Tate?”

  Dad doesn’t sound overly aggressive, but I don’t like where this might be heading. Please, may he not make some big stink about me talking to an Adler. This has got to end.

  Tate steps closer to me and by doing so is now closer to my dad. Ugh. He looks my dad straight in the eye. “Mr. Todd, sir, what’s happening is I asked your lovely daughters to bring some of your farm’s products here so I could add them into the basket the city is raffling off. The one that was supposed to be from the farmer’s market vendors. I didn’t think it was fair my brother cut you guys out of that, so I’m making it a co-branded basket.”

  “Oh.” Dad seems confused by Tate’s words. And to be honest his tone is kind of throwing me off too. It’s mild mannered and polite. No Adler has ever used that tone with a Todd. Not in my lifetime.

  “Well as long as that’s all you want from his lovely daughters,
” Uncle Ben quips tersely and gives Tate a bit of a glare.

  “Jesus, Uncle Ben, don’t you think it’s time we cut all this crap?” I say angrily. “Just be civil. Please.”

  “For the record, Mr. Todd, that isn’t all I want from your lovely niece,” Tate says to Uncle Ben. His tone is less mild and more frank than it was a minute ago but still polite. “What I want is to be her boyfriend again. Publicly this time. For all the world to see. If she’ll have me.”

  “Oh my God,” Daisy gasps excitedly.

  Tate looks at me. My dad opens his mouth to say something but I snap up a hand and hold my palm up in his direction, silencing him before he can say a word. Tate winks at me. “You good with that, Firecracker?”

  “I’m good with that, Tater Tot,” I reply and my chest feels tight because my heart is swelling so hard and so fast I can barely breath. “So good with that.”

  And then Tate kisses me, hard and firm, but PG-13 because there are too many eyes watching us for anything else. When he ends the kiss and wraps his arm around me, I turn back to my dad and uncles. “Tate’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. He makes me happy. And he makes me crazy, in the best and sometimes worst possible way. He just makes me…more. And I’ve never been happier, so just like your mom—my grandmother—I am not giving that up. But I’m also not giving you guys up, so you have no choice but to learn to live with it.”

  “Now if you’ll all excuse us, we have to go fix that basket and give my family the same speech,” Tate says. “Have a good night.”

  Daisy is clapping wildly as Tate guides me away, toward the other side of the park. When we’re out of sight and earshot of my family I stop him. He looks down at me with his smirkiest smirk. The one I love and hate with equal passion. “I was good, wasn’t I? That was some award winning, high quality romantic content right there.”