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Lynn spent a miserable weekend pretending everything was just fine. Stephanie was back from her work trip and she joined her and Oscar for dinner on Saturday and a trip to the pool on Sunday afternoon. And if she cried herself to sleep each night, curled into a ball to muffle the sound, no one knew but her.
She’d felt a spurt of vicious glee when the Canyon Cats lost on Friday. Benjamin didn’t deserve to win, not after he’d been such a jerk. But she couldn’t hold onto her righteous anger, and when the team won on Saturday she’d been reluctantly pleased.
As much as she wanted to hate him, choosing to focus on his career didn’t make him a bad man. He wasn’t like her father—tossing aside everyone else’s wants and needs for his own selfish reasons. And he was nothing like Lance—who had promised to marry her and then vanished with scarcely a look back. Benjamin didn’t owe her anything—not stability, not a future, not love. They’d had great sex and enjoyed each other’s company and that was it. If she’d been foolish and fallen in love with a man whose life was destined to take him away from her and Oscar, that was her own fault.
Their short-lived romance was over. It was time to revise and rework her plans. Again. As soon as she had the energy.
She took refuge at her desk on Monday and Tuesday, entering and exiting the office by the exterior door to lessen the chances of running into Benjamin. She didn’t think she could keep up her facade of everything’s fine if she came face to face with him. Neither Sarah nor Cynthie commented on her wan complexion or occasionally red-rimmed eyes. Cynthie was thrilled at the success of Sylvester Armstrong’s visit, which had pushed their attendance levels to a record high for the season. She crowed over the fact Brewster wouldn’t be able to break his contract, and Lynn had to pretend to share in her excitement. The sale wouldn’t be announced for several days yet, and no matter how wounded she felt, she wouldn’t betray Benjamin by telling the secret he’d shared.
Between the stress at work and not sleeping at night, she was exhausted by Tuesday evening. The Silverberries were meeting at a local art studio to try their hand at painting Ukrainian Easter eggs, and as much as she wanted to crawl under the covers and hide in the dark, she forced herself to stick with the plan. Leaving Oscar in Makayla’s capable hands, she allowed Stephanie to chauffeur her downtown. She was so weary in both body and mind she dozed off for a moment or two on the way, but if Stephanie noticed she made no comment.
The studio was in a converted warehouse with breeze block walls painted white and blindingly bright lights hanging over stained and scarred tables. The other Silverberries had gathered in a far corner and Helen waved them over with a wide grin. Nathan was by her side as usual, with Penta, Natalie, and Terrance seated at the barstools ranged around the tall table.
She did her best to keep up her side of the conversation, asking Penta how her children were, discussing the local political scene with Natalie and Terrance, and was relieved when the instructor called for everyone’s attention.
Focusing on the teacher’s directions required too much effort and she hoped the others were paying attention. When everyone reached into a bowl set in the middle of the table, she did so too. After choosing an egg and picking up a sharpened pencil, she stared at the smooth white surface, her mind as blank as the shell.
Stephanie spoke, her words camouflaged by the chatter and laughter of the other Silverberries. “Any time you want to go home, just let me know. We’ll make up an excuse.”
Apparently, Lynn hadn’t been hiding her distress quite as well as she’d thought. “No. It’s okay. This will be fun.”
Benjamin had become a fixture around the house, especially on Sunday afternoons, and Lynn had had to tell Stephanie something when he hadn’t shown up last weekend. But she’d kept it to the bare bones—that Benjamin had a job opportunity in another city and that Lynn had decided it was best if they didn’t see each other anymore. Given the fact that he hadn’t tried to contact her once since Thursday night, it was obvious he had decided the same thing.
She drew a faint line around the egg’s equator, and then another from the pointier tip, under the base, and back up again. There. She’d made a start. That was all she needed in life, too. A new start.
“Peter asked me to marry him.”
Stephanie’s voice was so quiet Lynn didn’t think she’d heard correctly. “He what?”
She shot her a glance but didn’t repeat herself. With a quick look around the table to make sure everyone else was engrossed in their work, Lynn leaned in and spoke just as quietly. “What did you say?”
Stephanie’s expression was bleak. “I said no.” She dipped the tiny stylus they’d each been given in the beeswax and held it over the flame, and then traced one of the pencil lines she’d drawn on her own egg. “I like him. A lot. But I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. He’s the first man I’ve dated since my surgery, and we’ve only known each other a few months.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair.” Lynn blew out a long breath and drew a star inside one of the quarters she’d marked off on her egg.
“It’s different for you.” Stephanie concentrated on her work. “As much as I enjoy Peter’s company, I always felt something was missing. But with you and Benjamin...I thought you were pretty special together.”
“Not special enough to stop him from putting his career first.” Lynn was shocked at the bitterness in her voice and strove to speak reasonably. “It’s not like we had an understanding, had ever talked about the future. I don’t blame him for looking out for himself.”
“Are you sure about that?” Stephanie lowered her egg into a jar of bright yellow dye and sat back on her stool, wiping her fingers. “You don’t sound like it. And if you didn’t talk about the future, how could he know what your expectations were?”
Lynn frowned as she finished the last star on the simple pattern she’d drawn. “We’d only been together a few months. Why would we have talked about the future?”
Stephanie’s chuckle was tinged with sadness. “You’re a planner, Lynn. We all know that. You would have been outlining your next steps from the day you met Benjamin.”
“I certainly did not.” Was that how her friends saw her—staid and strict and structured? “For once in my life I was going with the flow, seeing how things went. And look where that got me.” She held her stylus over the flame, dipped it in the beeswax, held it over the flame again and began tracing the pencil lines on her egg.
“I watched you with Benjamin. You were so good together, so good for each other. You love him, don’t you?”
Her lip trembled, the truth ready to spill out. “I don’t want to. He’s the wrong man for me. If it’s not this job, it will be another one in another city. And then another. That’s the nature of the business. I don’t want that for myself, or for Oscar.”
“You’re scared. I get that.” Stephanie knew all too well the terrors that transitions wrought. “But are you scared of change—or scared of love?”
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JUJHAR SHUFFLED SIDEWAYS on the scarred wooden bench, making room for Benjamin as he stepped off the ice and through the gate at the end of his shift. “Nice shot, man. My dog could have stopped that one.”
Normally the good-natured teasing would have slipped off his back like oil on water. But everything stung a little harder these days. “Oh, shut up.”
He’d been looking forward to the drop-in recreational game, eager to release some of the restlessness coursing through him. Though body contact wasn’t encouraged, the flow of the game allowed for scrums in the corner and shoving in front of the net. Between that and the exertion of skating he was hoping he’d get his first good night’s sleep in a week.
An offside pass drew a whistle and he and Jujhar headed back onto the ice. The scrape of his blades on the slick surface, the heft of his stick in his gloved hands, even the bulk of his equipment under his logo-less jersey were ingrained so deeply into his soul he couldn’t imagine a life without them.
But if he wanted to have Lynn, the odd beer-league game might be all he’d have left.
The idea wasn’t as terrifying today as it had been a month ago.
Back on the bench a minute later, Jujhar squirted water into his mouth, his shoulders heaving. Despite his regular workouts with the Canyon Cats, Benjamin’s heart thundered along with the rise and fall of his lungs.
What Jujhar said next did nothing to calm him. “You know I wouldn’t ask you this, man, but Sadie is pestering me. She wants to know how things are going with Lynn.”
The play swept past the benches, shouts for a pass and cheery profanities ringing to the heavy metal rafters above. The last thing he wanted to do was answer, but Jujhar’s elbow in the ribs told him he wouldn’t get away with simply ignoring his friend.
“It’s not.” He pulled off his glove, shook his hand to ease his cramped fingers, and put it back on. “She broke up with me.”
“When?”
“A week ago tomorrow.” He knew it down to the days, hours, and minutes but didn’t want to sound any more pathetic than he did already.
“What did you do?” A whistle and boisterous cheers signalled a goal. “Hold that thought. Time to redeem our team.”
Two shifts later, after Jujhar had scored a sweet one-timer off Benjamin’s cross-ice pass, he picked up the conversation. “So, how’d you screw up?”
He resisted the urge to squirm. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he used his forearm to wipe it away. “I said something stupid.”
“That’s a given, bud. What exactly did you say?” Beads of moisture clung to Jujhar’s beard and he squeezed it out like a dishrag.
“I may have given her the impression I was leaving town for a new job because she and Oscar weren’t important to me.”
Jujhar stared. “Yeah, that would do it.”
“I didn’t mean it. The words came out wrong and she wouldn’t let me explain. Not that I blame her. I would have been too pissed to listen, too.” They shifted down the bench to make room for other players coming off the rink. The stench of well-used gear battled for supremacy over the crisp freshness of the ice. Less than a minute remained in the game and he doubted he and Jujhar would have time for another shift. “You know the stupidest thing? I don’t even know if I want to coach anymore.”
“Really?” Jujhar’s dark eyes met his through the double screen of their visors. “I thought you loved coaching.”
“I love the game, love working with the kids. But I just kind of fell into it. It was what ex-players did, you know.” He’d had no idea of the politics involved. Thinking about the stress of Brewster’s sabotage and then the sale of the team made his gut clench. “Am I too old to go back to school?”
The third period buzzer sounded. The teams lined up for handshakes and then headed to the dressing rooms. No fancy lockers for recreational players—just wooden benches and rusty hooks. He and Jujhar took the spaces reserved by their equipment bags and bent to unlace their skates.
Jujhar resumed the conversation. “School, huh? And take what?”
“Psychology?” Hearing how his voice lilted up at the end, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Psychology. I’m thinking of becoming a counsellor. Like coaching, but not.” He had Lynn to thank for this new vision of his future. As terrified as he’d been when she’d first suggested the mental wellness presentation, working with the staff at White Spruce, even his brief interaction with Lee, had reminded him how important a therapist’s role could be, and the thought of becoming one had stuck like a burr in his mind.
Jujhar whistled. “That’s quite the commitment. How long would it take?”
“A while. I’d need a B.A. first, then decide what track to follow.” Setting his skates to the side he pulled off his damp socks and rubbed his feet dry with a towel, and then yanked his jersey over his head and unbuckled his elbow pads.
“You could go to the university here.”
“I know.” It would take him several years to become qualified. The cost wasn’t an issue—he had a nice little nest egg from his time in the national league. His salary had been tiny compared to most players, but generous nonetheless, and he’d had an excellent financial advisor. But was he ready to invest so much time into such a dramatic change at his age? He’d be in his forties before he could start practicing.
All his adult life he’d been waiting for things to fall into his lap, taking the good with the bad, coasting with the tide. If he decided to do this, it would be on him. He wouldn’t be able to blame it on anyone or anything else.
He’d wasted enough opportunities. He couldn’t let any more go by.
With or without Lynn, he was going to build a new life, right here in Prince George. He’d keep connecting with his mother, with Jujhar and his family, make new friends. And maybe someday, when he’d shown Lynn he was serious about growing roots, she might talk to him again.
He had two things left to do before he could put any of those plans in motion, however. Drag the Canyon Cats into the playoffs and then make a run at the championship. Not for his dad, not for his past, but for the players who had put their heart and soul into the team, for the fans.
For himself.