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Benjamin drew in a deep breath before knocking on the red front door of the two-storey house. Inside, barking erupted along with deep shouts and high-pitched squeals. He took a wary step back.
When Peterson Brewster had approached Benjamin about the head coaching position, his initial reaction had been hell no, and not just because he didn’t believe he was ready for the responsibility. A return to his hometown would necessitate reforging relationships he’d damaged through avoidance and inaction, and he knew he wasn’t ready for that.
But Brewster had insisted and Benjamin had let himself be wooed. The owner’s flattery had soothed enough of his battered pride to convince him to take the job. So here he was, back in town and unable to avoid the two people he’d hurt the most.
He’d had one stilted and uncomfortable visit with his mother since his return. But she’d left for Vancouver to care for her sister following hip replacement surgery shortly after, so he had a reprieve on that front for a few weeks.
Her absence forced him to focus on the other fissure in his life, however. So here he was.
The door opened with a jerk. Instead of the canine assault for which he’d been bracing, he was greeted by the tall, lanky form of Jujhar Malhotra. Seated at his side was a wriggling medium-sized puppy. On the stairs leading to the second floor, a boy perched, staring wide-eyed at Benjamin.
“Ben.” Jujhar fed treats to the dog like a rapid-fire Pez dispenser. “I’d shake your hand but we’re training Barney not to jump on visitors. Come on in.” He backed away, the dog following, intent on the goodies coming his way.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the dog-training was a handy excuse to avoid contact. Jujhar had been polite but distant when Benjamin had called the day before asking if it would be okay to stop by. Not that he deserved anything different, not after the things he’d said four years ago. Which was why it had taken him three weeks to get up the courage to call his old friend.
And also why Jujhar’s dinner invitation had been totally unexpected. Benjamin had been so shocked he hadn’t had time to come up with an excuse and had stuttered an awkward acceptance.
“Eli, take Ben’s coat, will you? Don’t worry about your shoes. We’re eating in the back on the deck. Got to take advantage of the good September weather while it lasts. Sit.” At his final word, the dog plopped down on its furry butt. “Good boy.” Jujhar fed him several more treats. “Okay, go find Ella and Elaine.” After one last hopeful pant, the dog vanished down the hall, feathery tail flying.
Eli stood and smiled at Benjamin, revealing a gap on the top row of teeth. “Did you really play in the NHL?”
The last time he’d seen Jujhar’s middle child and only son, he had been little more than a toddler. “Yes.” He gave the boy his coat, which he hung on a tall rack positioned at the bottom of the stairs without moving from his step.
“Cool.” The hint of hero worship in his tone made Benjamin uncomfortable. Playing a few games in the big leagues didn’t make him extraordinary, especially since his career had been less than mediocre. “My dad told me about when you played together. But what I really want to know is—”
“Eli, you can quiz Ben later.” Jujhar ruffled his son’s black hair in a casual gesture that echoed eerily on Benjamin’s scalp. His own father had done the same to him, many times. In congratulations, in encouragement, in condolence. Never with condescension or cruelty. He’d been the best of fathers, and Benjamin would never forgive himself for not being the success his father had believed he could be.
For being the cause of his untimely death.
Dragging the Canyon Cats deep into the playoffs wouldn’t bring his father back, but maybe it would ease some of his crushing remorse.
First things first. Healing the rift between himself and Jujhar was one of the many goals he’d set on his return. “Can we talk?” Benjamin rolled his neck in an attempt to ease the tightness cinching his shoulder blades together.
Jujhar regarded him with his familiar calm, dark gaze. That hadn’t changed since they’d last hit the ice together, though he hadn’t had his flourishing beard then. “Sure. Eli, go play with Barney and your sisters.”
“But—”
Jujhar cut off his son’s whining appeal. “Go.” He waited for Eli to plod out of sight, and then crossed his arms and leaned against the newel post. “So, talk.”
I guess we’re doing this here. “I owe you an apology.”
Jujhar nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“You were just trying to help. It wasn’t your fault I wasn’t ready to accept it.” His admonitions had been doubly unwelcome as they were the same ones his father had been expressing at the exact moment he died. Correct that—the moment Benjamin had caused his death. Memories of those two fateful encounters often kept him awake at night, easily dominating the echoes of all his other failures.
“All I did was suggest you take a good hard look at yourself. You were floating, man, just going with the tide. I hate to see you waste your talents. You have so much to give.”
He wondered if Jujhar used the same speech on his high school science students when they disappointed him. “I know you were only trying to help.” At the time, his belief Benjamin could be more had gnawed with sharp, bitter teeth, had been yet another burden laid on his shoulders. He knew now his friend had been offering support, not condemnation.
Silence settled between them, and with it a hint of their former ease. Maybe Benjamin hadn’t left it too late. Maybe he could still salvage something from this particular disaster.
“You were right.” He blurted out the admission. “I was lost then. I didn’t know what to do with myself after I quit playing.”
Jujhar nodded but didn’t say anything. He had been an excellent, dependable defenceman on the ice and a solid, responsible friend off. Their hockey careers had overlapped in Prince George for three years and their connection had survived Benjamin being drafted when Jujhar had not. It had even survived Benjamin bouncing from team to team for six seasons in the NHL, another two in Europe, and the last seven in various bench positions around North America. Well, not all of the last seven. Two years ago, when Jujhar had suggested he get his head out of his ass and do something with his life, things had fallen apart. His friend had given up on him, and Benjamin hadn’t blamed him.
“I mean it. You were right and I was wrong. I was an ass to be angry with you.” It had still taken months for the truth of Jujhar’s message to truly sink in. And for him to decide to do something about it.
“You always were too hard on yourself.” Jujhar straightened and punched Benjamin on the bicep. “It’s all good. Come on, let’s get you a beer. Sadie will be wondering what’s happening, and you don’t want to piss off my wife.”
It couldn’t be that easy. Still, hope bloomed in Benjamin’s chest as he followed Jujhar down the hall into a bright kitchen and through sliding glass doors that led to a wooden deck raised a couple feet off the ground. On the lawn, the puppy gamboled with Eli and two girls, the afternoon sun striking copper sparks in their long dark hair. At the patio table, a tall blonde woman placed a stack of dinner plates down and hurried toward him with outstretched arms.
“Benjamin!” Sadie Maholtra wrapped him in a tight embrace and rocked back and forth. “It’s so good to see you. I can’t believe you didn’t call us sooner.” She leaned back, tapped his cheek gently in reprimand, and beamed at him. “Jujhar! Why doesn’t this man have a beer yet?”
And then again, maybe it could. If only all his troubles could be solved so painlessly.
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OSCAR’S FEET KICKED Lynn’s hips and he shouted gleefully in her ear. She tightened the straps of the carrier and readjusted his weight on her back. “Hang on, buddy. Almost ready.” Across the parking lot, members of the Silverberry Book Club gathered at the entrance to the apple orchard. Lynn’s usual if-you’re-not-ten-minutes-early-you’re-late motto was one of the many things that had changed since Oscar had arrived in the world.
“Need a hand?” Stephanie Collins closed the back of Lynn’s SUV and took two quick strides to her side. Despite the fact she was on her way to pick apples, she wore a sleeveless sundress in impressionistic swirls of blue and green, with strappy flat sandals on her long, elegant feet. Her makeup was artful and discreet and her jaw-length bob smooth and shiny.
“I think I’ve got it.” Lynn grunted as she jostled Oscar into position. Now she was at work again, she was getting back into the habit of wearing eyeshadow and stylish clothing, but for a while there she’d been happy when she’d remembered to comb her hair. On those days she’d begrudged Stephanie’s put-together appearance. Thank goodness she’d kept those disgruntled thoughts hidden from her housemate and close friend. It would have been poor repayment for basically co-parenting those first stressful weeks. “I can’t wait until he’s walking. On the other hand, I don’t think I’m quite ready for all the trouble he’ll get into then.”
Oscar giggled as if he knew exactly what she was saying. Her heart swelled at the sound. He had changed her life, and some of the changes had been difficult. Especially at two in the morning when everything was darkest—both literally and figuratively. But on a sunny Sunday afternoon in September, it was all good.
With her son securely on her back, Lynn followed Stephanie across the pavement to where the Silverberries waited. Members had come and gone since she’d joined two years ago, but the core group remained.
“How’s my favourite young man today?” Helen Mansfield reached over Lynn’s shoulder to brush Oscar’s cheek with one finger. She and her new husband Nathan Speith, standing proudly beside her as she cooed at Oscar, were founding members of the club. Helen owned the studio where Lynn had received her first and so far only tattoo, and had actually been inking the infinity symbol when she’d invited Lynn to join.
When she had been stretched to breaking dealing with a newborn, the club had banded behind her. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through Oscar’s first year if it hadn’t been for the Silverberries.
“I remember when my boys were that age.” Penta Potter’s voice was wistful. Short and comfortably rounded with two sons and two daughters of her own, she was a lifeline for Lynn, accepting her phone calls at all hours of the day and night. She was also a single mom, although that was a fairly recent development, her divorce having gone through just a few months before. The scars of that vicious battle still shadowed her eyes. “I can’t believe they’re in high school now.”
Terrance Renfrew, another longtime member of the club, waved hello but didn’t take a breath in his conversation with Natalie, the newest person to join. A good friend of Helen’s daughter, she too was recently divorced.
Maybe Lynn had dodged a bullet instead of missed a goal when her fiancé of seven years had dumped her. At least she wasn’t dealing with child support and custody arrangements on top of learning how to be a mom. She could make up for Oscar not having a father if she tried hard enough, she was certain.
Helen directed everyone to the orchard entrance, where a teenage girl put down her phone long enough to smile a greeting. “Hello! Welcome to Northern Lights U-Pick.”
“Silverberry Book Club, reporting for duty.” Helen snapped a playful salute.
The girl blinked. “Book club?”
Helen winked. “Never judge a book by its cover. Or in this case, a club by its name. We do more than read. Where do we start?”
The girl pointed at a stack of heavy canvas sacks and the Silverberries each chose one before following her directions to the area they’d been assigned to pick. Stephanie joined Terrance and Natalie while Nathan paired off with Penta.
Helen fell into step beside Lynn. “So, how was your first week back at work?”
“I think because so much has changed in my life in the last twelve months, I was prepared for lots of changes at work, too. Instead, it’s like travelling back in time, as if I never left.” Adding the marketing coordinator duties hadn’t been quite the disruption she’d feared. Of course, the regular season hadn’t started yet. When it did, she’d have to arrange her schedule around home games in order to run the contests and promotions that happened during stoppages in play and intermissions.
“It’s been an adventurous two years for you, hasn’t it?” Helen’s sleek cap of silvery grey hair gleamed in the lowering sun.
“For you, too. Falling in love with an old friend. Getting married again.” The ceremony, held three months ago at Nathan’s cabin on a nearby lake with only family and intimate friends in attendance, had been sweet and romantic and still made Lynn’s heart ache. She was thrilled for Nathan and Helen, but their happiness only underscored the fact she’d never share such a wonderful moment with anyone herself. She’d discarded that part of her life plan in favour of the one currently babbling happily on her back.
Helen laughed. “I guess we’re living proof it’s never too late. You never know when love will strike.”
A vision of Benjamin skated across Lynn’s inner eye. They hadn’t spoken since that first day, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen him. During practices, the sounds of slapping pucks and piercing whistles and shouted instructions echoed from the ice surface to the concourse level. Merely opening the administration office door let her know exactly where Benjamin was. And if she snuck into the stands during her breaks and watched for a few minutes, that was just a logical way of killing time, wasn’t it?
Because it didn’t matter what Helen believed. It was too late for Lynn, and it was time she accepted that.