Crossing the Goal Line

by Kim Findlay

  “Congrats, Bridgie,” said Patrick. “But, yeah, you don’t look happy.”

  “Part of me is. Really. Unless I mess up, I’ll be working with the best swimmers in Toronto. I’ll get to go to international meets, probably the Olympics. It’ll be lots of work, lots of traveling, and I’ll get to do the thing I want to do most.”

  “I can see why that would upset you,” Patrick said, ruffling her hair.

  Cormack spoke up. “What about Mike?”

  There was a pause.

  “How serious are you guys, B?” asked Brian.

  Bridget shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Cormack snorted. “How can you not know?”

  Bridget glared at him. “I’m not a moron, Cormack. But it’s not that easy. We had just started going out when the playoffs began, and since then it’s been crazy. I don’t know how serious Mike is. We didn’t discuss any plans for after the season, but no one thought the Blaze would go this far and that the playoffs would last this long. And I don’t think that the start of the Cup finals is the time to ask Mike to sit down and discuss the status of our relationship.”

  The guys flinched. Obviously not a discussion they were fond of having either.

  “Mike isn’t going to be here next year,” Cormack stated, and the others nodded.

  Bridget knew that. The Toronto teams couldn’t afford the salary he could ask for now. And realistically, while the city was going crazy for the Blaze, the team could go this far again only if there was another perfect storm of hockey circumstances. It was not likely. There was no future for arguably the best goalie in the league staying in Toronto, even if money wasn’t a factor.

  “Could you get another coaching job somewhere else, if Mike wanted you to go with him?” Patrick asked. “I mean, if you’ve got this offer, you’re pretty good, right?”

  Bridget looked at him. “Sure, I march in to whatever club I like in the city Mike settles on, and ask, totally ignoring whether or not they have a vacancy, if they want to hire me, because I was offered a job here in Toronto but wasn’t committed enough to take it? And of course, I’ll give notice if my boyfriend goes to another team?”

  Brian sat down beside her and gave her a hug. “So it’s love or money?”

  “Not really,” said Cormack. “Mike has lots of money. Love and money or your job?”

  “Dream job or dream guy, I guess,” said Bridget.

  Brian was Bridget’s favorite brother for a reason. He looked at her and asked, “Bridget, if Jee had come to you with a question like this, what would you have said?”

  Bridget didn’t pause. “Job. I’d never tell someone to give up their job for a guy. I mean, who knows what’s going to happen with the guy?” She took a moment and thought over what she’d said. She sighed. “I just didn’t imagine it would be so difficult. Mike’s great.” There was longing in her voice.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to pick?” Cormack asked. “You have to admit, the perks with Mike are pretty awesome. And he’s not a jerk.” Cormack had come around since that first road hockey game in the fall.

  Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Well, Bridgie?”

  Bridget thought about the last month and a half. It had been fun. But as Mike became more integrated with the team, she was doing less, and getting bored. And this was the playoffs. During the regular season, it would be worse. Whatever coaching she might pick up on an ad hoc basis, after having had this offer dangled before her, would drive her crazy. She’d tried being a hockey girlfriend, and it wasn’t enough. She needed her dream, too.

  Bridget sighed. “I can’t settle.”

  “What are you going to tell Mike?” asked Brian.

  “Nothing right now. I have to meet with Jonesy again after the first Victoria trip to formally accept. And I don’t think I should say anything to Mike in the middle of this series.”

  The brothers agreed on that one. No one who called themselves a hockey fan would upset the team in the finals. Bridget stood up again, grabbed a ball, and shot it at Cormack. She played better, since talking to her brothers had brought out into the open what her decision would have to be, but she could see bad times coming, and she wanted to put it off as long as she could.

  * * *

  PHYSICALLY, MIKE WAS feeling good. There was some fatigue, and a lot of sore muscles, but no injuries. These last couple of rounds of hockey had been incredible. He was playing as well as he’d played in his life. He had Bridget and her crazy family around, which gave him a break from hockey when he needed it. It seemed counterintuitive, but as his feelings grew for Bridget, hockey got a little less important but somehow easier. If they’d lost to New York, or if they lost to Victoria, it was, well, not the end of the world. He still loved hockey, but it wasn’t so scary to think of it ending someday. He had something else, something big enough to replace hockey eventually. Maybe he could even have his own team of little redheads. He could admit, at least to himself, that he was thinking permanent. He thought Bridget was, too. As soon as the playoffs were over, they were going to have a talk.

  The strain was starting to tell on Bridget, he could see. Just trying to “accidentally” bump into someone at practice was a challenge. There were only so many players, and they would pretty well line up like dominos. No one would admit to taking this ritual seriously, but everyone was there, just the same. The players were desperate. They were afraid of any change in their routine at this stage of the game. For this team to be here was a miracle, and they all knew it. They were waiting for the shoe to drop, ending things.

  But something was up with Bridget. Finding time alone now was a problem, but he would swear she wasn’t trying anymore. Part of him wanted to find out what the problem was, but a bigger part of him preferred to skirt the issue. He could claim he wasn’t superstitious, but he didn’t want to upset the balance they had, either. He’d almost scared himself once, thinking impatiently that the season needed to be over soon so he could get things settled with Bridget, and that traitorous thought disconcerted him. He couldn’t play to win if he was thinking of losing.

  The impromptu swim race in New York had made him face some hard facts. Bridget had been a trouper, hanging around to be there for him throughout these playoffs, but this was an anomaly. When he’d seen how she’d come to life at the chance to compete, and to do a bit of coaching, he’d had to realize that she needed that just as much as he needed to play. He’d been shocked when his coach had said he’d hire her. Mike hadn’t appreciated how good she was. Not only did she need that outlet, she had too much talent to waste. And if he really loved her...with a jolt, he realized he did.

  This wasn’t like his relationship with Amber. It had come on slowly, but that had only made it stronger. Somehow, it went deeper. He was older and wiser. He had a better idea of what he needed in a partner, and Bridget was exactly right for him.

  So he knew, if they were to have a future together, her career would have to be as big a factor as his. And that complicated things.

  At this point, it didn’t much matter if the Blaze won the Cup or not; Mike was going to be the hottest property in free agency. He’d have his pick of teams and would be offered a lot of money. He could go for the cash, or go to a team that would be a Cup competitor for the next several years. He knew the Blaze’s position this year was a fluke, but there were teams that would be a strong contender with him. He had once thought he’d retire after spending his career with just one team in Quebec. Now, his options were wide open, and that was exciting. His agent was getting “hypothetical” offers, since Mike was still under contract. Mike had asked him to research competitive swimming potential in any city that was making serious “hypotheticals.”

  He wanted to talk to Bridget about this, but it would have to be a private discussion, and really, he should keep that talk aside till the playoffs were over. There was a reason players didn’t sign contracts dur
ing the playoffs. They couldn’t afford the distraction. But this worry about Bridget was taking his mind off the game. He needed to let her know he saw a future with her, and to do that they needed to talk it out. There were teams he’d prefer to sign with, but only if Bridget was on board. He could compromise, maybe quite a bit. He felt rather magnanimous, admitting that.

  He also wanted to take her to meet his mother after the playoffs. He figured they could visit her before the July 1 free agency started, and maybe visit some of these prospective destinations. Check out coaching situations at swim clubs, as well as hockey possibilities.

  He knew it would be smart to wait till the playoffs were over. But when he came out for practice, before game five, he saw Bridget skating. Something about her expression disturbed him. He wanted reassurance, so he found himself asking, impulsively, “Hey, Bridget, how would you feel about flying out to Phoenix?”

  “Phoenix?” She glided to a halt, looking perplexed.

  “Yeah. I usually head out to see my mother at the end of the season. I’d like you to meet her.”

  Bridget stared at him, eyes wide. He wondered what was up. He’d met her family; didn’t it follow that she would meet his?

  “It’s a little premature, right? I mean, we should wait till the series is over, and who knows how long things could take?” she asked.

  Mike straightened. Something was wrong. “I wasn’t talking about tomorrow. I didn’t have a definite date, but win or lose, we’ll be done in a week and I’ll be free. Unless the pool’s opening?”

  Bridget shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard,” she said, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  He laid his stick on the net, and skated over to the faceoff circle where she was focusing on a skate lace.

  “Bridget,” he said.

  She looked up at him, and he was startled to see tears in her eyes. “We should talk later, okay? Big game tonight.”

  A fist was squeezing his chest. Why didn’t she want to make plans with him? She couldn’t just be afraid of meeting his mother. “Bridget. What’s up?”

  “Can’t we—” she started.

  “No. I don’t need the distraction of worrying about this. Let’s lay it all out in the open.”

  Bridget straightened slowly and chipped at the ice with the toe of her skate. “Um, I kind of have plans.”

  Plans. Plans she hadn’t mentioned to him. Plans that apparently didn’t include him. The fist squeezed tighter.

  He waited.

  “I went to see Annabelle at her new club.” He knew the club. Best in the city, maybe best in the country, she’d said. That Aussie coach, Jonesy, she’d been so excited to meet in Atlanta. And great swimmers. He nodded that he was following her.

  “They offered me a job. My dream job. Head coach.”

  Mike was about to congratulate her when it struck him. Bridget had made her decision, and she hadn’t included him. And it meant she wasn’t moving anywhere. She was going to be in Toronto for a long time.

  She finally looked up at him. “Mike, I know how much hockey means to you. I would never ask you to give it up. But it turns out this is pretty much the same for me. I know you can’t stay in Toronto, and I can’t leave now. I just wanted to wait till you won the Cup to tell you.”

  Mike couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

  “I tried, Mike. I really tried to be who you need. But I’m just not the right kind of person. I can’t let this coaching thing go, and you deserve someone who can put you first.”

  She looked at him, at her eyes pleading for understanding. He wanted to say something, say the right thing, but then the team was jumping onto the ice, whooping and hollering at the excitement of starting game five in the Cup finals, tied up, a chance to win it all. Mike had been feeling pretty much the same thing until five minutes ago. But he’d give it all up if he could just start over with Bridget. She headed straight for the exit, hardly noticing a rookie fall on his butt while he got out of her path. One minute she was there, then she’d skated away. And Mike stood there, immobile, trying to get air into his lungs, watching her go.

  * * *

  BRIDGET ALMOST TORE off her skates and ran out of the rink. She sped down the sidewalk, not looking where she was going. This had gone so, so wrong. What was her problem, blurting it out like that? Why couldn’t she have just smiled and said “sure”? There were two, three games left, maximum. All she had to do was pretend for less than a week, but she couldn’t. She’d had to give up playing poker with her brothers because they busted her every time. She could never bluff. How had she thought she could pull this off?

  And the look on Mike’s face... Bridget was walking down the sidewalk so fast people were giving her odd looks. She needed a good game of road ball, but she wasn’t going to find that in downtown Victoria. Her other option? A swim. That she could do. The hotel had a pool.

  She’d walked a fair piece away from the rink and she hadn’t been sure where she was. By the time she got back, she had a moment of panic. What if Mike was there? She couldn’t face him. But no, he would still be at practice. He couldn’t throw away a practice for the finals on game day. She could swim for maybe an hour, and hopefully by then she’d be ready to face him again. That was, if he was still speaking to her. She wasn’t sure if he’d want her to leave immediately, or to stay around for the team for the last few games. It was going to be difficult either way. Her stomach knotted.

  She went through the hotel lobby and caught an elevator with some Toronto fans. Fortunately she’d never gotten much publicity, so she slipped off on her floor unremarked. She slid the card in the lock and headed over to the stand where she’d left her suitcase with her swimsuit. Then she saw him. Still wearing his hockey uniform. He was sitting in a chair waiting.

  “We need to talk,” he said, in a tight voice.

  * * *

  MIKE HAD NEVER left a practice. He was a professional, and he behaved that way. He was proud of it. The day Bridget got had her altercation with Wally when the pool closed, he’d sent in his excuse before practice started, and that was as close as he’d ever come to ignoring his commitments. But walk off the ice like he’d just done? Never.

  And yet he’d marched off the ice today, ignoring the questions thrown at him, made his way to the dressing room where he pulled off his skates and pads to put on shoes and then headed out. He was terrified Bridget might just leave. In that moment, he knew straightening things out with her was more important than anything else in his life.

  He was sure he’d looked a sight tromping down the sidewalk in his Blaze uniform, but he needed to find Bridget, and the only place he could think to start was her hotel room. She’d have to pick up her stuff, and he wanted to get there before she could leave.

  Whether it was the uniform, knowing who he was or the determination in his face, somehow he was able to get the maid to let him into her room. Some of the tension left his body when he saw her things still inside. She hadn’t left. He’d just wait until she showed up.

  He saw himself in a mirror. He looked ridiculous. He sat and started to pull off the remaining pads and protective gear that were out of place when he was off the ice. He realized that, suddenly, all those questions he’d been debating about what to do were resolved. He was going to do whatever it took to be with Bridget.

  He had time to straighten out his thoughts before he heard her at the door. She stopped when she saw him, looking almost scared. He didn’t like that. But there were a few things he didn’t like, and the only way to work them out was to talk.

  “We need to talk,” he said. He tried not to sound angry or hurt, but he was. He’d like to block the door and tell her she wasn’t leaving till things were worked out, and worked out right, but he had a pretty good idea how that would go. He’d prefer to see her angry, not sad and fearful, but this wasn’t the time to provoke her.

  She smile
d tremulously. “Nothing good ever comes after ‘We need to talk,’” she echoed from an earlier conversation.

  “Let’s make an exception to that. Could you sit? I’d rather you didn’t run away before we can work through this.”

  That made her chin go up. “I’m not going to run. I just didn’t expect to find you here. Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

  “Yes,” he said baldly.

  “Then?”

  “This is more important.”

  She stared. And sat.

  “So what happened with Jonesy?” Mike asked.

  Bridget fidgeted with her cuff. “He’s retiring. New grandchild. He’s offered me a six-month lead-in to take over his position.”

  “That’s certainly a step up from coaching at your current club. You deserve it. Congratulations. When did this happen?”

  Bridget stared at her cuff. “I went to see Annabelle just before the Victoria series, and he asked to talk to me.”

  “And you accepted?”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “Day before yesterday.”

  Mike was silent, and Bridget looked up, blinking behind her glasses. “It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever made.”

  Mike asked. “Why? It’s your dream job, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “It is, but there’s nothing for you in Toronto.”

  Mike hoped that wasn’t true, but didn’t say it out loud.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the part that tore at him. It was the part that would let him know if he had a chance.

  Bridget sighed. “We’re in the finals. It wasn’t really the time to ask where you thought our relationship was headed. If you didn’t think there was any future for us, it didn’t matter. And if you did—” She broke off for a moment. “If you did, then we’d be faced with deciding between my career here and your career elsewhere. When I got that offer, I wanted it so badly. And I just couldn’t see any way to have that and have us. This job involves traveling—not just in North America but around the world. We had a hard enough time finding time together when we were both in Toronto. And if we wanted to have a family—” Bridget stopped.