The Carolyn Chronicles, Volume 1

by Derek Ciccone

  Heidi’s mind seemed to drift away as she spoke, “The low-point was when Owen died. Ryan was supposed to be released in March, but then had a setback, so he was already down in the dumps when he lost Owen …” She paused to gather herself, and Guy comforted her. She took a swig of beer as if that might help, but it never does.

  She continued, “Ryan is the strongest person I’ve ever met—my hero—and I didn’t think anything could break his will … but that almost did it. To see someone you love give up is the most horrible and helpless feeling in the whole world.”

  “I’m so sorry about Owen—I knew his prognosis was poor, but we didn’t know,” Lindsey said.

  Heidi shook her head. “What made it even worse was how it made me feel. My first thoughts were completely selfish—how it would affect Ryan, and what would I do without Shay, Owen’s mother, who’d held my hand for the last nine months.” She took a deep breath and added, “And how I was relieved that it wasn’t my son who took his last breath.”

  “Just natural instincts, and we should never apologize for being human,” Guy continued to comfort his wife. “Sometimes we have to come to grips that the universe can be cruel and random, as disconcerting as that is. Owen was a healthy seventeen-year-old who contracted terminal lung cancer. He never smoked, nor did his family, and he lived in a part of Australia known for its clean air and water.”

  “I’m not sure it’s random,” Heidi countered. “I really believe there was a reason that Owen and his mother made that journey halfway across the world to Boston, and into my son’s life. And the pact they made—if cancer ever took one of them, the other would go on and live for both of them—will be what drives Ryan to make a difference, and I think one day he will pay it forward in some way that he might not even know.”

  Right now it seemed that Ryan had other things on his mind, as more laughter arose from the pool area, followed by a series of splashes. He was certainly living life for two today. He had kept his promise to his friend, even if it unnerved his mother.

  “Enough about our sob story,” Guy was adept at changing the subject—probably how he’d remained married all these years. “How are things with you?”

  “Busy, but no complaints,” Chuck said. “Hockey season is over, so I’m down to two jobs this summer—laying floors and bartending—but I’ve gotten to spend a lot of time with Carolyn, which is good.”

  “Enjoy it—it goes fast,” Heidi said.

  “I’ve heard good things about your coaching work,” Guy said, surprising Chuck.

  “Probably not from our fans—all ten of them—since we came in second to last place.”

  “We both know there’s much more to coaching than wins and losses. No matter how good you are, you can’t make chicken salad out of chicken you-know-what.”

  “So where did you hear these glowing reports?”

  “Turns out I played with your boss. Maps happens to be an old teammate of mine with the Bruins.”

  Joe Mapelli was known as Maps because they used to say he couldn’t find the net to score without one. But he made his name with his defense, and now was an up-an-coming coach who Chuck assisted.

  Heidi spoke up, “He also played for my father, you know, the supposed genius.”

  Chuck turned apologetic. “I’m sorry about Hawk—believe it or not, he actually means well. I can’t tell you how helpful he and his wife were for us after Beth died.”

  Guy shrugged it off. “Our critics only make us better.”

  Heidi picked up, “Anyways, my father, as you know, is running the NHL franchise in Nashville. And he’s looking for a young, out-of-the-box, assistant coach for next season. Your name came up.”

  Guy chuckled. “First time in eighteen years my father-in-law asked me for my opinion—I told him that you were the most loyal teammate I ever had, and that you had a real mind for the game. That you weren’t just a fighter.”

  “He asked around and heard the same things from others you’ve played and coached with, including Joe Mapelli. He would like to interview you for the position. He knows about your schedule with Carolyn, so he’s willing to fly up here in the next couple weeks when it’s best for you.”

  Chuck thought they were putting him on—Maps was always big on the pranks, and he could see him being behind this. But their looks said they were serious.

  “I’m flattered, I really am,” he said, the happy sounds of Carolyn and the kids in the background. “But I’m not sure this is a good time. Carolyn is finally settling into our new reality, and me as well. Taking her from the only home she’s ever really known right now … I’m just not sure.”

  “Just an interview. It can’t hurt to talk, no?” Guy said.

  “And my father is pretty influential in the hockey world, so when word gets out that he interviewed you, it will really get your name out there. Might lead to opportunities in the future. When it is the right time.”

  “Just think about it, old friend. Take a few days,” Guy added.

  “It’s just not my style to start something I’m not willing to finish. I wouldn’t want to waste his time.”

  “It’s his time to waste,” Guy said.

  Lindsey held up her beer bottle, “I could use another—is anyone else in need?”

  They nodded that they were—the combination of the hot sun and heavy conversation had caused the beer to go down quick.

  “Why don’t you come with me, Chuck?” she asked, but he could tell it wasn’t a question.

  They descended the stairs, as they were keeping the beers cold in Billy’s fridge inside the cottage below. But once they got to the bottom of the steps, and out of ear-shot, she began, “This is your dream—the NHL. How can you just flippantly say no? You have to at least talk to Dobbs.”

  “Like I said, it’s not a good time—there will be other chances. It was my first year coaching ... I’m just getting started.”

  “We both know better. When life knocks, you better open the door, because it might be your only chance.”

  “It’s not just about Carolyn—it’s about me as well. I like what we have here and want to see where it goes … you and me.”

  “Don’t you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Put this on me. If you don’t follow this, you’re ending any chance that we’d have.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because you’ll eventually resent me for it. Maybe not tomorrow, or even next year, but someday I’ll be the one who stood between you and your dream. And I don’t want that.”

  “It’s my decision, I’ll live with the consequences. If I took a job in Nashville, it would really end any chance we had.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “So you’re saying that you’d be willing to move? What about your job at the school, and your family?”

  “I didn’t say I would, but if what we have is as strong as we think it is, then you have to be willing to let it fly away and hope it will come back to you.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Chuck looked at Lindsey, her face as intense as he ever remembered it. Then looked up the stairs, where Guy and Heidi had potentially changed the course of his future. He was conflicted. He paused, hoping there would be a sign from above to direct him in the right direction.

  Then he heard the crash.

  Chapter 35

  Chuck was first on the scene, with Lindsey right on his tail.

  Chairs were tipped over on the pool deck, and a group of kids were surrounding Carolyn. The first thing he took note of was how eerily quiet it was—the only sound he heard was Anna’s soft voice pleading, “Please wake up, Carolyn.” Not very reassuring.

  Chuck kicked chairs out of his way as he rushed to his daughter. Ryan was hovering over her like a doctor.

  “Stand back,” Chuck ordered and a path cleared. “What happened?” he asked, as he caressed Carolyn’s head.

  “She tried to a dive of
f the chairs and she fell,” Maddie said.

  “And then she went to sleep,” Anna added.

  “Carolyn … can you hear me?” he said softly.

  No response. He checked her breathing—it was fine, thank God. Chuck had been knocked out many times, and smelling salts always did the trick. “Lindsey—I need the First Aid kit.”

  They were on the same page—she was already heading back to the house to retrieve it. Chuck wasn’t sure what to do next, except not to move her, in case there was a spinal injury.

  He turned to Ryan and instructed him to call for an ambulance … but a doctor was already on site. Dr. Soos came sprinting to his side and knelt down beside Carolyn.

  “What do we have here?” he asked, urgent, yet calm.

  Chuck explained the diving accident. Dr. Soos nodded astutely, while checking Carolyn’s breathing and heart rate. He then went with the time-tested medical technique of the cheek tap. “Come back to us, kiddo.”

  And she did. Her eyes slowly opened like when she struggled to wake in the morning. She tried to sit up, but hit a wall. “Whoa—dizzy.”

  “Just lay back down,” the doctor said, and gently helped her back down.

  “What happened?” Carolyn asked, sounding groggy.

  “How about you tell us,” Chuck said, trying to remain parental, even though what he wanted to do was take her into his arms and not let go. Hell, what he really wanted to do was to put her into a bubble for the rest of her life, where she could never get hurt ever again. Moments like this were part of the Carolyn experience, but he would never get used to them.

  When she began to recall the diving stunt—I didn’t know diving could make you go to sleep … how cool is that?—his compassion was tested.

  “What did I tell you about diving into the pool?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And stacking chairs? Where did you get an idea like that?”

  She just shrugged.

  Guy and Heidi arrived on the scene. As did Lindsey with the First Aid kit, and she looked thankful it was a wasted trip.

  “It was my fault,” Ryan took the bullet for her. “I stacked the chairs so I could dive in. I should have warned her not to, but before I could, she’d already fallen.”

  Heidi looked so mad that Chuck thought she might burst into flames. “Ryan Patrick Borcher! What part of stay out of the pool did you not understand?”

  “Technically, you told him not to swim,” Kaylee said, and Cassidy backed her up with, “Yeah—you said nothing about diving.”

  Heidi kept her attention on Ryan. “I see you’ve mixed your ‘stupid pills’ with your medication.”

  She turned to Guy, who looked like he wanted no part of this mother-son battle. “I told you—whenever he sees some dimwit girl prancing around in next to nothing, it’s like he’s drunk.”

  “Who you calling dimwit?” Kaylee challenged.

  “Prancing? Who still uses that word?” Cassidy said condescendingly.

  Heidi turned to her. “Would you prefer slutting around?”

  “Don’t get your grandma-panties in a bunch—we didn’t do anything,” Kaylee said.

  Guy tried to defuse the situation, but Heidi would not be stopped. She pointed at the girls. “Exactly—you’re supposed to be some sort of lifeguards, yet you did nothing to stop this!”

  Chuck interjected, before the pool area turned into an MMA octagon … and Kaylee and Cassidy ended up next to the pig. “Swimming is over for the day. So we really don’t need any lifeguards. What do you say you head out,” do whatever the young and spoiled do with their day, “and come back for the party later on?”

  They left peacefully, but not without sending a last dirty look in Heidi’s direction as they “pranced” away. One fire extinguished, another starting to crackle.

  Heidi started in on Ryan, but he beat her to the punch. “That was total bullshit, Mom! They had nothing to do with any of this. You’re acting like a crazy psycho.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “An egregious injustice … patently unfair. Is that better?”

  “Don’t you talk to your mother like that,” Guy warned.

  “I tell you what, I’ll make you a deal,” Heidi said. “When cancer starts playing fair, then I’ll be fair. But until then I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up back in that godforsaken hospital.”

  Guy put his arm around his wife. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She let down her guard. She turned away from Ryan and started to cry. “He’s right—I am a psycho.”

  “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “It’s true—this disease has turned me into a total crazy woman. Who was that person? I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

  After a moment of quiet, other than Heidi’s sniffles, she said, “What? No snappy comebacks? You must not of heard me—your mother admitted she’s a lunatic. Are you happy now?”

  When Ryan didn’t respond they turned in his direction. But he was no longer standing there.

  “Now Ryan’s sleeping,” Carolyn said.

  Dr. Soos rushed to the boy who had crumpled to the pool deck. He sped through a check of his vitals. This time his voice wasn’t as calm, “Call an ambulance—he’s not breathing.”

  Chapter 36

  The Boulanger party was held on the grounds of their palatial Georgian Colonial in Greenwich. Tents had been set up on the eight acres of manicured lawns, and amusement park-like rides had been brought in for the children, including a Ferris wheel. The famed Zaun family would be in charge of the fireworks display later that night, to celebrate Independence Day in high style. And the Boulangers had a lot to celebrate, as very few families had capitalized on the American Dream more than them.

  Having lived in New Canaan the past year-and-a-half, Billy had found that many of the people who made up Connecticut’s Gold Coast failed to live up to the stereotype. He’d met down-to-earth, hardworking folks who didn’t turn into insufferable assholes just because they achieved great wealth or were born into it. But the attendees of this party were doing their best to keep the stereotype alive.

  They were the old money blue-bloods that Fitzgerald wrote about. The ones whose reckless pursuits of riches often stepped on the lower and middle classes with the hoofs of their Polo horses, but kept riding, as the game went on. And they gave off an aura that they were entitled by the heavens to do so.

  Ironically, Dana’s grandfather, John Boulanger, who began this empire, was once considered new money. Nothing but a bootlegger, except he did his bootlegging in the form of a courtroom. He was a lawyer to the wealthy and influential, with his specialty being politicians. As they say, he knew where the bodies were buried., both literally and figuratively.

  He would use his unique talent to provide a favor (make those charges go away) and his clients would provide one back (a large chunk of untaxed money in an offshore account, or maybe an insider stock tip that would earn him millions). Billy had learned this from his time around the Klein family. It’s a club, and once you’re inside, even if they truly detest your inclusion you will be rewarded. You wash my back, I’ll wash yours, and the masses will remain unwashed. John Boulanger, eventually handed down the family business to Dana’s father, Tom, and with his incapacitation, his two sons were now running it. Dana smartly escaped the family business.

  Dana led Billy around the grounds, introducing him to numerous boat-shoe-wearing, Waspy Yale guys and plastic women with five-thousand-dollar handbags. A crusty old woman from a fellow Greenwich legal dynasty named Ethel Lawson, asked Billy if he was a member of the Newport Harpers, who had made billions in the hotel business. He informed her that he was from the Johnstown, Pennsylvania Harpers, who occasionally made the rent when their father wasn’t gambling away his paycheck.

  And keeping her word, Dana introduced Billy to numerous publishing executives, and pitched his latest story. They smiled a lot and acted receptive to reading his manuscript, but Billy had b
ecome an expert at spotting empty words, and he doubted anything would come of it.

  Dana noticed a few old friends, and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before he could stop her she was on her way, moving freely through the crowd—her natural habitat—and Billy was on his own. He felt very vulnerable, and the open bar suddenly looked real tempting … but he stayed strong.

  As if sensing blood, Dana’s brothers, Ross and Aldrich, approached him. They wore Ralph Lauren Polos with the collar popped and white Madras shorts. They looked like a pair of Ken dolls with bad toupees, and seemed like they should be holding tennis rackets. Preppy must be back in, or perhaps it never left these parts.

  The first thing they did was offer Billy a drink, knowing that he couldn’t accept. It was as if they were taunting him, just because they could.

  “You look a little nervous, Billy,” Aldrich said in his snide prep-school accent.

  He shook his head. “Just enjoying this fine party. I appreciate you inviting me.”

  “That’s the thing—we didn’t invite you,” Ross said.

  “Dana did,” Aldrich added, as if this were news.

  “Last I checked she’s a Boulanger, so it’s her party as well,” Billy said.

  “Nobody knows that better than you, isn’t that right, Billy? That she’s a Boulanger.”

  Billy didn’t take the bait.

  “Which means you will soon be a Boulanger,” Ross said.

  “I decided to keep my maiden name,” Billy couldn’t help himself.

  They over-laughed as if he’d told the funniest joke ever.

  “Humor is a good way to calm your nerves. You still seem a bit on the nervous side to me, Billy—are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” Aldrich asked.

  Billy just shrugged. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be nervous? The man is getting married in a few months. That’s got to make anyone a little skittish,” Ross said.

  “Not Billy—this is old hat to him. It’s like a formula. Find the wealthy girl, use your charm, play the poor sap from the other side of the tracks, and walla, you’re in the money.”