Page 109 of Well Played

“Total one-eighty. He said the way you stood up to his mom, well, that seems to have moved the needle.”

Bottles of water sit on a table near us. I pick one up, twist the cap, and take a swallow. Then another. And another. When the bottle is empty, I toss it into the recycle bin. “And what happens when he improves and his feelings swing back the other way?”

“We’ll face that when it happens, if it happens.” Twisting his team beanie like taffy, Ax says, “Please. I don’t want to strong-arm you, and I won’t get you fired, but we need you to do this. He needs you.”

The surgeon walks in. “He’s back in his room and awake if you want to see him.”

Instead of taking the elevator, I run up the two flights. A skid slams me into the nurses’ station, where several nurses are chatting, their backs to me. Gulping air, I hit the bell to get their attention.

In slow motion, they turn around as if choreographed. “Can I help you?” says one who looks like a candy striper.

“Frank Sauer,” I pant out. The elevator door opens to disgorge four big men on a mission—Gnauss, Marshall, Alexander, and the surgeon. The latter takes my arm. “I know the room.” We march in formation down to the end of the corridor.

The door is open and a complaint arrows toward us.

“Where is she?” asks a weak, fretful voice.

I stand in the doorway. “Looking for me?”

With a sigh, he closes his eyes. “What took you so long?”

9

Dreams are so important. You need to have big goals and expect a lot of yourself but you have to enjoy the ride too.

– Sidney Crosby

Frank

The last yearand a half brought a mixture of pain, indecision over my professional future, and the exhilaration of finding the love of my life. Hank did a plea bargain, so no one on the team had to make a statement. That was a major worry out of the way.

Maya has been a miracle, helping me learn to live without opiates and guiding me through a rough recovery. Her support as I unshackle my life from family obligations has kept me afloat during the hardest times.

Mom still has the house for her lifetime and I established a trust account for the family, but that’s the extent of my support. The heart issues disappeared once I stopped taking Mom’s calls.

That’s not to say there are no regrets, but establishing an unlisted number with a limited number of contacts immediatelylowered the pressure. I also moved and didn’t disclose my new address.

For the first time in my life, I’m a real homeowner. Maya wanted to live near the lake and we found a great house in the Astor Street Historic District. An urban mansion, who would have guessed?

The Chicago Botanic Garden has put its spring face forward. Fluffy white clouds like giant meringues float in a sea of Mediterranean blue. Bright sun casts a golden haze over colorful flowers, variegated shrubs, majestic trees. The air vibrates with the sound of birds calling out, lifting my heart with joy. The perfect weather in the perfect setting for the perfect day.

In the Pergola Garden Room of the English Walled Garden wisps of wisteria brush my shoulder as I stand under the stone columns and wooden arbors that support the heavy vines. The soothing sounds of the bubbling circular pool should put me at ease, but I’m too on edge.

I fidget with the pocket watch in my vest pocket, pulling the heavy gold disk in and out. Maya gave me the heavy gold timepiece, case engraved with the Seabirds logo, for Christmas last year to mark the one-year anniversary of my surgery.

I’m not back on the ice and the aftereffects still plague me. That’s not to say the procedures didn’t work, but I still have residual pain. Phil Marshall and I have a meeting coming up and retirement is on the cards. But Phil has hinted at possibilities beyond the ice and I’m eager to hear his ideas.

Ax stands on one side and Chris Pullman on the other. The seats are divided by a wide aisle. The whole team sits on my side. On the other, I see Maya’s parents, the rest of her siblings, various relatives, and Alan Pullman’s team. Beaming faces everywhere.

Ax pats his pockets, raising the hairs on my arms.

“Did you lose it?” My anxious whisper is louder than I intend and my future father-in-law frowns, then rushes over.

“Is there a problem? You can use Sylvia’s ring if Ax doesn’t have it.”

Smirking, Ax pulls the Tiffany blue box out, tips the top up, and flashes the ring. “All safe and sound, Sourpuss. I won’t ruin your big day.”

“I’d kill you if you lost that ring.” I gaze at the delicate circle of emeralds, sapphires, and yellow diamonds alternating on the wide platinum band. Inside, the engraving says,I hold you in my heart forever.

Then the music starts up and the most beautiful woman in the world walks toward me. At the end of the ceremony, I lift her veil. Instead of grabbing her for the kiss, we gaze into each other’s eyes, plumbing fathomless pools of passion and commitment. When the officiant leans over and whispers, “Kiss her already,” the noise of our guests finally penetrates the cone of silence we had dropped around ourselves.

When I feel her soft lips against mine, I know I’ve finally found home. I slip her arm into the crook of my elbow. I guide her into a turn, we wave to the crowd, and lead the procession toward our new life.

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