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White Spruce Mental Wellness Centre was located in a repurposed school. The single storey, T-shaped building housed several complementary services under its flat roof, but Benjamin was concerned with only the one.
The wide glass door leading to the White Spruce offices was bland and discreet, with a simple logo etched on the top half. Nothing threatening about it. Yet he couldn’t make himself unbuckle his seatbelt and go inside.
The day following his dinner with Lynn and Oscar, he’d spoken with Nishtha Sethi, the centre’s executive director. Now here he was, a week later, parked outside the office, worms of dread crawling through his veins.
He’d made a commitment and he was going to honour it, come hell or high water. To do it right, he would have to confront his past, not hide from it. He would have to be honest with the teenagers in the program, and that meant honest with himself.
He wasn’t sure he was up for it.
As he stared at the door, a figure slowly approached from across the snow-covered playground. Head hanging, the face was hidden under the loose hood of an oversized sweatshirt inadequate for the late January freezing spell. Indecision and unwillingness was evident in the slouched shoulders, the hesitant steps. The person gripped the handle, paused, released it, and scurried back the way they had come.
Benjamin wasn’t sure what made him open his door and call out. Maybe it was a sense of fellowship with someone who appeared as reluctant to seek help as he was. Maybe it was a test to see if he had the courage Lynn believed he had.
“Hey. Were you going in?”
The person stopped a step away from disappearing around the corner of the building. They glanced over their shoulder, and he glimpsed a spotty face and patchy reddish beard.
“I’m not too excited about it myself.” Benjamin took a couple steps closer. “Maybe that’s the reason I need to go in. I’m Benjamin.”
For a moment he was certain the young man was going to flee, and so did the youth. Poised on the tips of his toes, his eyes skittered away from Benjamin and back again before he turned and answered. “Lee.” A gust of wind blew off the baggy hood, revealing uncombed hair and a scrawny neck.
“Hi, Lee.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “I know one thing. It’ll be warmer inside.”
Hazel eyes stared out of a thin face and the knot of an Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not scared to go in.”
The denial, coming out of the blue, revealed the lie. Benjamin didn’t call him on it. “You’re not?” He shook his head. “You’re braver than I am, then. I’m kind of terrified.”
“I’ve been before. Once. They’re not that bad.” Another gust of wind had him hunching his shoulders. “They got coffee.”
“I sure could use one.” He went to the door and pulled it open. “How about you?”
Lee’s shrug was an awkward mixture of insolence and despondence. He ambled past Benjamin, trailing the aroma of marijuana and body odour.
In the reception area, a woman with a thick brown braid and sloppy cardigan sat at a desk while another woman, about his age with a sleek fall of black hair and heavy eyebrows over intelligent brown eyes, stood behind her holding a blue file folder. Both smiled warmly as Benjamin and the youth entered.
“Lee! I’m so glad you came back.” The woman with the folder rounded the desk and joined them in the tiny open space near the door. “The program’s just starting. Same room. There’s cookies and hot drinks.”
Lee jerked a shoulder and strolled down the hall as if escape had never crossed his mind. Benjamin swallowed. If Lee could do it, so could he. “I’m Benjamin Whitestone. I have an appointment with Ms. Sethi.”
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Nishtha. I’m so excited to discuss this program with you. Even more so now I’ve seen you with Lee.”
Benjamin shook her hand, ducking his chin in confusion. “What do you mean?” All he’d done was walk in the building with the teenager.
“We saw him at the door. And we saw him leave.” She tilted her head at the woman at the desk, who bobbed her head in confirmation. “Then we saw you get out of your car and the next thing we know you’re both here. Lee came to group therapy a couple weeks ago but we haven’t seen him since. I don’t know what you said, but we’re so glad you convinced him to come back.”
“I told him it would be warmer inside.”
Nishtha grinned. “You know the first rule then.”
“What’s that?”
“Never lie.” She waved the blue folder in the direction Lee had gone. “Why don’t I take you on a tour first? Then we’ll start hashing out the details.”
With the uncomfortable sense that something life-changing had just taken place, but not sure exactly what, Benjamin followed her.
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THE CANYON CATS’ UNPRECEDENTED winning ways continued through the last half of January and into February.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that attendance was still hovering just under the required minimum.
Lynn scowled at the spreadsheet displayed on her computer. It was all there in black and white. She had to come up with something to boost those numbers. Despite her belief in its value—to Benjamin, the kids in the program, and the Canyon Cats—the White Spruce Mental Wellness presentation was only a small piece of the solution.
It wasn’t quite ten o’clock and she was already over her caffeine limit for the day, but frustration forced her to her feet and sent her to the coffeemaker.
Since the evening more than three weeks ago at Benjamin’s apartment—which had ended earlier than she’d hoped when Oscar had refused to go to sleep in a strange room and she’d had to take her teary, overtired baby home—they’d spent more time talking on the phone than they had face to face. Six of the last eight games had been on the road, and when Benjamin was in town he’d focused on the team and the White Spruce presentation. She didn’t begrudge that, not at all. As his confidence grew and flourished, her pride in his accomplishments, both on and off the ice, blossomed, too.
The White Spruce appearance was scheduled for the upcoming Tuesday. After so many games on the road, the Canyon Cats were home for all but one during the next four weeks, and it provided the perfect window of opportunity. Benjamin had met with the counsellors several times to prepare his talk, which she hadn’t asked to see. This was between him and the teens. If he wanted to share with her, he would. If he didn’t, that was his prerogative.
The coffeemaker finished its noisy procedure and she took her mug back to her desk. As she sat, a text notification dinged from her phone. Benjamin.
Can you meet me under the stairs right now? We need to talk.
Her heart dropped into her belly. What now?
She rose. Sarah cast her an inquiring glance. “I need to clear my head. This project is making me crazy.” She didn’t say which project, but had so many on the go Sarah could fill in the blank without making her tell an outright lie. “I’m going to walk the concourse for a bit.”
Taking her coffee, she left the office and headed downstairs. The door to the catch-all space was ajar and she stepped in. Benjamin was already there, pacing the cluttered room.
“What’s going on?” She put down her cup and gripped his wrist to stop his restless movements. “You’re worrying me.”
“I have to cancel White Spruce.” He twisted out of her touch and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Brewster’s booked a motivational speaker for the same day. I have to attend. I’ve been after him to bring this person in for months and he’s always dissed the idea. I can’t refuse to go after all that.”
Lynn’s mind raced. “Do you think he did it on purpose? Scheduled the speaker the same day to mess with White Spruce?”
“I don’t know. He could have found out about it easily enough, as I have to put those sorts of things on a shared online calendar.” He perched precariously on a rickety folding table and fisted his hands on his thighs. “I feel awful about this. As much as I hated the idea to begin with, I’d begun to look forward to it.”
“We’ll find another day.” She visualized the schedule with its colour-coded blocks for events, games both home and away, meetings, and more. There had to be a white space big enough to fit it in.
“We can’t.”
“What do you mean, we can’t?”
“Brewster made it clear he wants me to concentrate on the team and nothing else as we get into the final weeks. He congratulated me on the wins and says he doesn’t want to jeopardize our chances of making the playoffs.”
“But he doesn’t want you to make the playoffs.” It was her turn to pace. The room was so small she could only take three steps in each direction. “Does he?”
“I don’t know what he wants anymore. Not that he was ever easy to read. But lately I’ve been getting the impression he’s changed his mind about moving the team. Other than this thing with White Spruce, he’s been very supportive of all the off-ice events. And even with this, he’s making me miss it to do something I’ve been agitating for since I got here.”
“I don’t trust him.” Of that, Lynn was certain. “He has to have an ulterior motive.”
Benjamin took out his phone. “I have to go. Practice is starting soon.”
She stopped in front of him and laid her palms on his chest. “It’s all going to work out.”
His smile was half-hopeful, half-pessimistic. “If you say so.”
“I do.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’ll talk more later.”
Back in her office, she stared fiercely at her computer screen without really seeing it. If only she could figure out what Brewster was up to. She didn’t believe he’d given up his secret plan to break his contract and move the team.
An email notification popped up on her screen and she clicked through, eager to escape the hamster wheel of her thoughts.
She read the message and stared.
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BENJAMIN HAD JUST TAKEN a bite of sandwich, intending to eat a late lunch at his desk now the morning practice was over, when his office door burst open. Lynn stood in the opening, flushed and triumphant.
“You’ll never guess what I just did.” She strode forward, planted her palms on his desk, and grinned. “You’re going to love it.”
The last time she’d said something similar she’d been proposing the White Spruce presentation. He hurriedly chewed and swallowed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “Am I?”
“I need one last big hurrah, something to really push the Canyon Cats attendance over the edge. And what should show up in my email this morning?” She paused expectantly, eyes flashing like blue stars.
“I have no idea. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.” He willed his pulse to slow. He had to stop expecting the worst all the time.
“Sylvester Armstrong is coming.” She wiggled her hips and bopped her shoulders. “Sylvester Armstrong!”
His hovering dread congealed into an icy ball in his lungs, forcing him to breathe shallowly. Say something. She doesn’t know what this means. “Well done. That’s quite the coup.” It was. Armstrong would draw huge crowds to any appearance. He’d been voted to attend the all-star game multiple times, held numerous team scoring records, and hadn’t been afraid to throw a few punches. Off the ice, he was a respected spokesperson for various charities and endorsed a top-of-the-line sports brand. He was the epitome of Canadian hockey excellence.
He was everything Benjamin wasn’t—and had wanted to be.
“I can’t believe I got him.” Lynn beamed. “He had a cancellation and I scooped him up under everyone’s noses. He’s going to do an autograph signing, a public skate, and an appearance of the last home game of the season.”
He couldn’t throw cold water on her excitement. Not again, not after his reaction to the mental wellness event. He couldn’t. She chattered on, her words unintelligible through the avalanche of his memories.
Armstrong was his nemesis, the symbol of everything that had gone wrong in his own career. The fact he was oblivious to Benjamin’s continued existence only made it worse.
As juniors, they’d been considered near equals, lauded by the media, sought after by scouting staff. They’d been drafted the same year—Armstrong in the first round, Benjamin in the second. Other players would have been thrilled to go that high, but to him, it was the first of many disappointing performances. Two minor injuries didn’t help his ice time, and when coupled with an inability to gel with his linemates, the result had been predictable. He’d been traded away at the end of the season. While Armstrong’s star rocketed to the stratosphere, his had fizzled and died, sucked into the black hole of mediocrity. He’d been passed from team to team. Unwanted. Unneeded.
“Benjamin?”
He dragged himself back into the present. Lynn stared at him, head cocked to one side, and he scrambled to catch up with the conversation. “That all sounds great. I’m sure it will be a huge success.”
“When I looked up his bio, I saw you’d been teammates. I thought this might be a nice surprise.” Her voice lilted up at the end.
Bang went the slim hope she hadn’t noticed their connection.
The last time he’d been traded he’d ended up on Armstrong’s team. By then their roles were firmly entrenched, him on the fourth line—if he played at all—and Armstrong on the first. Toward the end of that season, a hit resulting in the third concussion of his career had placed him on the injured reserve, and he’d finally taken the hint. He’d retired from the major league, vanishing into the wilderness of European hockey.
He’d received no fanfare, no goodbye party, no special television coverage. His departure hadn’t made a ripple. Not like when Armstrong had retired almost fifteen years later after a legendary career.
He clutched his pen, the thin cylinder bending in his grip, and groped for a reply that would deflect her implied question. “I’m amazed you realized. I played for a lot of teams. Do you have them all memorized?”
He’d hoped she’d laugh, but instead her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Was I naive, thinking you might be friends? I imagine it’s a job like any other—you like some colleagues and not others.”
She was skating dangerously close to the truth, and he couldn’t bear to have his pettiness exposed. “We got along fine, but we were teammates for less than a season. It was an honour to share the bench with such a talented player.” It took all his concentration to sound professional, not resentful.
Lynn pulled one of his visitor chairs closer, sat, and propped her elbows on his desk. “You don’t have a problem with him coming, do you?”
“Of course not. It will be good to catch up.” The lie tasted like ash.
Her wrinkled brow smoothed out and the gleam returned to her eye. “Good. I think this will be great, will really punch up the attendance.” She bit her lip and he braced for more unpleasant news. He shuddered to imagine what it could be. “Also, I have a favour to ask.”
His jaw ached and he had to loosen muscles he hadn’t realized he was clenching in order to speak. “What’s up?” Please don’t ask me to host Armstrong. That would add insult to injury.
“He’s going to be in town for three days and two nights, including game night. The first evening he’s agreed to have dinner with fans—it will be a contest of some sort, not sure what—and I’ll need to chaperone that. I thought maybe you could look after Oscar for me? Stephanie will be out of town for work, and I hate to leave him with a sitter when he’ll have been at daycare for eight hours already. And he really likes you...” She trailed off, her brows raised in a silent plea.
Cool relief flooded his veins. “I’d love to take care of him.” It would serve the double purpose of helping out Lynn and giving him an excuse to avoid Armstrong.
Working with Nishtha at White Spruce during the last few weeks had helped him view his career in a new light. Most great coaches hadn’t been superstar players. He needed to take his failures, mistakes, and disappointments and learn from them. Use them to be the coach his team needed.
Having to stand in Sylvester Armstrong’s shadow one more time would be just another lesson.