Crossing the Goal Line

by Kim Findlay

  “Oh, she’s not spending her time now, no. They’re paying extra to the regular swim instructor to teach the class. It’s really going to add pressure to the budget,” Walter fussed. Mike was a little surprised at the depth of dislike in Walter’s voice, and he wondered if Walter didn’t like women who challenged him.

  “Maybe you can help me with something Wall-ter,” Mike corrected. Bridget and her nicknames. Mike had almost said “Turd-chenko” the other day when the backup had been especially annoying.

  Walter gave Mike an exasperated look when Mike stumbled over his name.

  “Anything,” Walter assured him.

  “Bridget and her family were very helpful while I was laid up. I wanted to thank them, and wondered if you had any suggestions?”

  Mike had just thought of that. He didn’t really think Wally would be that helpful, but he’d worked with Bridget for more than a year now so he might know something.

  The man looked wary. “Were you wanting to give them a membership here? We have a strict policy—”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I don’t think they want to join an athletic club, even this one.”

  Walter didn’t try to hide his relief. “I don’t think this is their sort of place.”

  Mike didn’t either, but not in the way Walter meant. The O’Reillys were more interested in hockey than racquetball or curling. They were a blue-collar clan.

  “Why do you say that?” Mike asked, making himself unclench his fists.

  “I don’t know anything about Bridget’s family, of course.” Of course, thought Mike. “But, Bridget already has access to many of the club facilities, and socially of course...well, we don’t really have anything for people like her.”

  Mike kept his face blank with an effort. Wally had such disdain in his voice. Didn’t he realize Mike had been one of those people? Did he think everyone looked down on people who weren’t rich?

  But Wally was continuing. “I mean, socially, there are women here who’d be happy to spend time with you. If you let me know, I could arrange a racquetball game with one. But there’s no one here for Bridget.”

  “No single men?” Mike asked, trying to make Wally spit it out.

  Wally tittered. “No, no, we have single men. But we don’t have single women interested in other single women.”

  It took Mike a minute to understand that. Bridget was gay?

  “So, while she’s a lovely girl, I’m sure she’d be happier socializing somewhere with other people like her.”

  “Really?” he asked, feeling confused, and wondering why he didn’t want to accept what Wally was saying.

  “Oh, yes, I know for a fact. And of course, we don’t discriminate here, but...” He allowed his voice to trail off, letting Mike fill in the blanks. Mike would have liked to explain the definition of discrimination to him, but was afraid he’d end up explaining it with his fists.

  Instead, he got up and left. He was disgusted with Walter, but he was taken aback by the news of Bridget. It was an obvious answer. It explained why his relationship with her was so different. But he was disappointed. He had been interested in her. He’d been telling himself otherwise, but if he were honest with himself, he’d wanted to explore that option with her. Not now, with hockey on, of course, but maybe later? Still, it was for the best. Hockey and relationships did not work when Mike was involved. He had to remember that. Look what had happened last time.

  * * *

  “I DIDN’T MEAN to say anything till we were past sixteen weeks, but I can’t help it. I am so sick every morning,” Jee gloated.

  It was the annual Christmas cookie bake for the O’Reilly women. The daughters-in-law and Bridget gathered at O’Reilly Central and made cookies and other necessary Christmas treats, while the O’Reilly grandparents and sons and grandkids went skating.

  Baking was delayed as everyone congratulated Jee. It would be a summer baby, if all went well. Bridget hugged her warmly, knowing more than the others how important this was for her friend. It was nice to know that when it was her turn someday, if she had a turn, she’d be part of this same supportive group of women. Bridget often spent more time with her brothers than their wives, but she appreciated the girl power they provided when needed.

  The talk focused on pregnancy stories, as each sister-in-law was free to talk to Jee now that she was in “the club.” Bridget’s attention wandered. Starting a family looked to be a long way off for her. Unfortunately, her mind drifted in the direction of the Toronto Blaze goalie, and she was replaying that last conversation they had when she suddenly became aware of everyone staring at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Bridget, you’ve beaten those eggs into concrete. What were you thinking about?”

  Bridget looked down at the mixing bowl. She had overdone the eggs, a lot. She flushed, embarrassed.

  “Pooh, she’s blushing. Must be a guy,” teased Karen.

  Jill looked up from her phone, where she was checking for a text from middle brother David. “It’s Connor, right? That swimmer?” Connor had been discussed in the past. Bridget did not want to discuss him again.

  Karen looked at Bridget. She was married to Liam, the second oldest brother. “No, can’t be him. Bridget won’t see him again until that conference in Atlanta.”

  “I bet it’s that goalie—Mike, right? Bridget was seeing him almost every day. Patrick thinks he’s a good guy, and you know Bridget, she never goes for the cubicle type.” That was Nancy, Patrick’s wife.

  Bridget’s heated cheeks betrayed her.

  “Oh, I remember,” said Jill. “Do you like him, Bridget?”

  Jee had been trying to get an answer to that question, but Bridget had been avoiding her tactful enquiries. Jill, mostly oblivious to anything that didn’t involve her baby, avoided tact and asked directly.

  Bridget looked around at the circle of faces, all expressing concern for her. She felt foolish, but they wouldn’t judge her.

  “Maybe a bit,” she admitted.

  “He’s not interested?” Karen asked.

  “Of course not,” Bridget answered. She held up a hand to stop any contradictions. “You guys have seen that Hockey Wives show. Am I anything like the women on there?”

  “Nope,” said Jill. Blunt but honest.

  “And he’s got hockey to focus on, and I’ve got my swimming. Have I told you guys how well Annabelle and Austin are doing? I’m sure they’re going to do great at the city finals—maybe even make the provincial championships.”

  This wasn’t as noteworthy a topic for the sisters, but they allowed themselves to be diverted while Bridget dug into the fridge for some fresh eggs.

  After baking, the women and the kids decorated the tree while the guys put up the outside lights. It was now officially Christmas for the O’Reillys. Bridget always loved the way the house changed once the tree was up. The whole place smelled of cinnamon and gingerbread and evergreen, and the air was thick with secrets and anticipation. They’d ordered a massive amount of pizza and the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, arcing from kids to adults.

  Jee sat by her and gave her a hug. “Sorry, B. Brian says he’s a good guy. He told them he’s tied up with team stuff now, but wants to come by over the holidays. Should I give you a heads-up when he’s coming?”

  Bridget felt a pang. Mike was keeping up with her brothers, but she hadn’t heard from him.

  “Don’t worry, Jee. You just stay healthy with that baby.”

  Since this was the O’Reilly home, a hockey game was put on TV after everyone had gorged themselves on pizza and the “defective” Christmas baking that wasn’t being saved for the big day. Bridget looked around at her brothers and their wives, all at least appearing to be happily paired up and with children either present or arriving soon. She and Cormack were the only singles in the group, and for the first time, she f
elt left out. She excused herself and went to her apartment downstairs.

  She hadn’t been able to face watching the Blaze play and imagining all her sisters-in-law watching her when Mike was on. And she didn’t like feeling like a fifth wheel in her own family circle.

  She shook her head. She really didn’t like this self-pitying mood she was in. She was not going to be that girl, the one who was so hung up on a guy who wasn’t interested in her that she was no good to herself or anyone else. That was it. No more moping over Mike Reimer. She had many wonderful things in her life and she was going to focus on them.

  * * *

  CHRISTMAS ARRIVED WITHOUT any Mike, and Bridget congratulated herself on her success. The family had their usual chaotic get-together, with families coming and going throughout the day. There was an incredible amount of food, and Bridget spent a lot of the day in the kitchen cleaning up. Still, she felt more like herself again. She knew Jee would let her know if Mike was supposed to come around, and she was doing well with the “out of sight, out of mind” approach.

  Jee did give her warning, but Bridget didn’t get it. On Boxing Day all the O’Reillys who were at home or not tied up with commitments with their wives’ families, and any friends who wanted to, would show up for a road hockey game. This wasn’t the usual pickup game, but had full teams and was no-holds-barred. Bridget didn’t have her phone on her as there was too great a risk of damage. She was, as usual, the only girl playing, and she neither asked nor gave quarter with the guys. She was arguing a call with Cormack when she noticed things had gotten quiet. She turned and saw a Land Rover joining the mass of cars parked on the street. She felt her stomach knot and told herself not to be stupid.

  Mike swung out of the vehicle. He was big, and broad, and to her eyes, extremely appealing. She started fidgeting with her helmet strap.

  “Mike! Glad you could make it,” said Patrick.

  “Hey, Merry Christmas!” several voices greeted him.

  “Can you use an extra?” Mike asked.

  The teams, while competing fiercely, were made up of a hodgepodge of players from Mr. O’Reilly down to his seven-year-old grandson, Bradley. It took some creativity to balance them evenly.

  Patrick declared that Mike couldn’t be goalie. He remembered the game from earlier in the fall, and was pretty sure any team with Mike on it would win if he was the net minder. So Mike was given a stick and was recruited to be a winger on the team Bridget was playing against.

  Bridget played defense. Mike was a distraction for her, but when the ball dropped, she made herself concentrate solely on the game. She was competitive, whether playing Monopoly or hockey, or swimming, and she soon mostly forgot Mike the man, allowing him to blur until he was simply “the enemy.”

  * * *

  SHE BUMPED HIM hard a couple of times. Mike found it difficult to be physical with her (he was not used to coed hockey), and Bridget was able to take the ball from him a little too easily. He was razzed for it, and when she started on a breakaway, he grabbed her from behind and swung her around, dropping her facing back toward her own net.

  He took a moment to release her. “Penalty!” she cried, a little breathlessly. Mike grinned at her. He held his hands up, looking innocent. “What?”

  There was a shout from the other end as seven-year-old Bradley scored. Bridget broke their gaze, and went to congratulate her nephew.

  He was in trouble, he thought. He’d hoped, by avoiding her, that he’d stop thinking about her. He’d come to the Boxing Day game because he wanted to drop off his gift for the O’Reillys, and because the holidays tended to be lonely for him. He didn’t get enough time off to go see his mother. He no longer had his group of teammates to celebrate with, and the new team still hadn’t fully warmed up to him. He wanted to hang out with some people. Regular people, like the Sawatzkys, but since they were no longer available, the O’Reillys were his best bet here in Toronto. And yes, he’d wanted to see Bridget, too.

  He was invited to join the family leftover potluck where he met members he hadn’t gotten to know yet, spouses of the guys who’d come to watch games with him when he was laid up. He wasn’t sure why he was getting such a once-over. If he’d been a prospective date for Bridget, then yes, that would be understandable. But as he’d learned from Wally the Weasel, he wasn’t Bridget’s type.

  It turned out he had at least one fan in Toronto. Seven-year-old Bradley was his shadow. He let the kid’s mom take their picture together on her cell phone, and from the look on the kid’s face it was Christmas morning all over again.

  He didn’t see much of Bridget. She was in the kitchen for a while, then seemed to vanish. Had he offended her when he grabbed her? He’d enjoyed wrapping his arms around her, but had he made her uncomfortable? Had she guessed he was interested? Was she trying to give him a hint? He checked the rest of the family, but no one was taking notice of her absence.

  He hadn’t done this much second-guessing about a woman since Amber. He knew men who mixed hockey and family, but he couldn’t do that, so he’d made a conscious decision to keep things light until he was done playing. He’d dated a few women over the years, but it had always been superficial, easy. It was the least he could do for Amber. And selfishly, he had never wanted to be faced again with a choice between hockey and someone he cared for. It had been easy enough, till now. So why did he have to be interested in Bridget?

  After the meal, he watched the Canadian team playing at the World Juniors with the family. He enjoyed watching the tournament, remembering how he’d once dreamed of playing as a professional at the top level. In years past, he’d watched with his teammates in Quebec, but he hadn’t been invited by anyone in Toronto. He appreciated that the O’Reillys welcomed him, even though he hadn’t yet proved himself a success on the ice here. He didn’t want to make things awkward with Bridget, but he was enjoying himself with her family.

  He managed to leave behind an envelope without being discovered. He hoped they liked it.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING Bridget was awakened by a pounding on her door. Living in the in-law suite in the basement of her parents’ house had its advantages—like being able to slip away last night without anyone knowing. She hadn’t slept well, and had hoped to sleep in on her final day off, but here was the disadvantage of living in the in-law suite: she was right there.

  Cormack was yelling loud enough to wake up the neighbors.

  “Come on, Bridge! Get up here. You gotta see what Mike left. Dad says you get first dibs.”

  Bridget grumbled a few choice epithets under her breath, and dragged on sweats before heading up to the main floor.

  Patrick was at the front door when she reached the kitchen. He had Bradley with him. There was a letter and bits of cardboard on the table. Cormack threw the letter almost in her face, and she had to jerk back to make sure he didn’t knock off her glasses. She blinked to clear her vision, and read the letter.

  The O’Reilly family:

  My apologies for the delay. I very much appreciated all your care and assistance while I was injured and going a little stir-crazy. I couldn’t swing season tickets, but I was able to get two tickets for each remaining home game. Sorry, Mrs. O’Reilly, this might not be your favorite activity, but from what I’ve learned of your family, they will enjoy.

  Gratefully,

  The letter ended with a scrawl. Bridget recognized it as matching the one on the note she’d received when Mike sent the tickets for her class. She’d kept it in her office at the club. He might not get points for originality, but he certainly had read her family. Tickets for home games for either Toronto team were expensive and hard to come by. This was something the O’Reillys would cherish, and then talk about for years to come.

  David showed up as she was reading. Apparently everyone was coming to divvy up the tickets. Bradley was almost vibrating, he was so excited. Patrick was vibratin
g, too.

  Bridget had been to two games now, so she thought she would be taking the leftovers, but her father had stepped in. Without Bridget, they wouldn’t have met Mike, and Bridget had the most difficult schedule, so she was to have first pick.

  Cormack almost pitched a fit when she insisted she had to go get her phone so she could see when she was free for a game. But she usually had team practice till after the games started on weeknights, and about half her weekends had swim meets in the weeks leading up to Finals. No way could she remember when she was free without checking a calendar.

  The team had certainly not been considering her when they made up the schedule. Saturday night home games were on the weekends she was tied up. She couldn’t plan on a free weekday evening until possibly March. But over the holidays there was only one midday practice for her swim team, so she was available for the first game, which was tomorrow.

  She wasn’t sure who to ask to go with her. She’d love to take Bradley, but Patrick wanted to go with him to his first game. She could ask Jee, but she knew Brian wanted to go with her, and Jee was only a lukewarm fan. Her mother settled the question by saying her dad would like to go with her. Bridget agreed.

  Brian and Liam arrived, and a convoluted system was set up to give everyone a chance to pick a game. Six kids plus Bridget’s dad meant that twenty-two tickets were divided among seven with a lottery for the one left over. Bridget got two more dates in March.

  She left her family animatedly discussing who they’d see the Blaze play against and with whom they’d go, and went back down to her apartment. She needed more sleep, but it would help if there was less Mike being discussed. She’d just talked herself into being sensible, and then he’d shown up again yesterday. Well, one game this week, and then she could ignore him until March. Who knew? Maybe he’d be gone by then. Depending on how the team did in the next few weeks, there could be a fire sale and players traded away. The way Mike was beginning to play, he’d be the most valuable asset the Blaze had to trade.

  She had a smaller swim team to work with at the club over the Christmas break. She had her two standout swimmers who had advanced in leaps and bounds. Annabelle was fourteen, but had become the fastest swimmer in the club. Austin was right behind her. Bridget was proud of how committed they were, and of how they’d improved. They’d all earned PRs over the season. With two months left, they had a chance of being in the provincial championships. Maybe even make it to Nationals. Since the club had had only one swimmer in the city championships before she arrived, she thought she could call the year a success no matter how it ended.