Page 1 of Icing the Enemy

CHAPTER ONE

corbin

Mamaw’s skinis paper thin but as soft as velvet. My sister Becca comes home with me to see Mamaw and asks, “What’s your secret to soft, smooth skin?”

“You’re a smart girl. Don’t let these commercials convince you that you need expensive creams. Dove or Ivory soap is all you need.” A relentless cough gets caught in Mamaw’s throat.

“Got it. Dove. I’ve always loved the way you smell,” Becca says as she grabs a glass of water, and I lift our grandmother up so she can take a sip. She’s been in the hospital with pneumonia for weeks. My parents don’t think she’ll make it much longer. She was in her late thirties when she had our mom, so she’s in her eighties.

When her chest stops jerking, she eases back onto the sheet.

Growing up, Mamaw was the person who wrapped you in a bone-breaking hug, and her fresh scent stuck in your nose until she let you go. Mom had asked me to stop at the drugstore to buy Mamaw’s favorite soap, so I slip it from my pocket and unwrap it.

“Oh, my sweet Sugarbear.” That’s her nickname for me, saying I’m sweet and shy. Everyone got a nickname when theywere born. Isaiah, my oldest brother, is Tank because he’s always been broad shouldered and loved to wrestle. Becca, being the first girl, wasn't a princess. No, that’s not good enough, so Mamaw calls her Queen Bee.

Mamaw shakes as she reaches for the soap. She brings it to her nose and inhales. Becca goes outside to the nurse’s desk to find a washcloth. While she’s gone, my feisty grandmother says, “I want to live long enough to see you get married. Is there anyone special?”

Mamaw could die this week according to my parents. We’re all praying this is just a bump, and we have her ten more years. She told my mom the reason she can’t get over this pneumonia is because they won’t give her whiskey. There will never be another Mamaw.

“No. Mamaw, there’s not much time for finding someone special.”

Her brows knit together. “What do you do in your off time?”

“I babysit for Dane and Lettie some. I go to dinner with Becca, my friends, and teammates. I go to the library, the animal shelter, concerts, and the bars occasionally.”

“Corbin Shearer, I want you and Becca to go back home and live your life. Hockey has been your world since you were eight years old. It’s time to fill up your heart with butterflies that only a woman who loves you can give. Promise me you’ll get married in my lifetime.”

Mamaw is dying, and she’s worried about me. Tears well up in my eyes thinking about living without my spunky grandmother. With Isaiah, Becca, and me, she was our full-time babysitter while Mom and Dad worked. We spent every day with her after school. She was the one who took me to hockey practice, until I could drive myself. There was a hockey rink about thirty miles away, close to the Ohio border. She nevercomplained, and I’ll cherish every car ride I had with her. So many stories and mistakes she made but would never trade.

“I promise.”

“Don’t lie to me. Now listen to me. You don’t need someone like you. You need someone opposite of you. Like me and your papaw. He was quiet and a hard worker. He gave me my foundation, and I gave him laughter and a little something else.” She cracks herself up at the innuendo, but it causes another coughing attack. “It’s been a different life without him, but at least I’ve had ten grandchildren to keep me going.”

Becca returns, pushing a cart with a bowl of water and washcloths. “Did I miss anything?”

Mamaw smiles. “Not unless you met a hell-raising nurse out there.”

Looking between Mamaw and Becca, I say, “Mamaw wants me to get married… soon.”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you ask out Lynette again? She was pretty.”

“She was boring.”

Becca hits me in the arm. “Maybe you’re the boring one.”

“Because I don’t like watching paint dry? You’re the boring one sitting at home reading briefs while your hubby does the budget.” I admit it comes out snarky.

She crosses her arms, and her eyes narrow. “Jocks aren’t the only men who can satisfy a woman.”

“Okay, young’uns. What time are you heading back to Nashville?”

“Not until Sunday. We’re going to Isaiah’s for a late lunch. Then I’m going to Jasper’s hockey game and Pepper’s play. Becca and I are dividing and conquering.”

Becca squeezes out the washcloth, adds the soap, and hands it to me. I wash her left arm while Becca washes the right side. “And I’m going dorm shopping with Sophie and Renae, thenwe’re taking all of the littles to the fair tonight, so Mom and Dad can be here with you.”

“Nonsense. You tell your parents to go have fun at the fair. I’ll be here when it’s over. Has anyone talked to Vance? I miss that boy, and I worry about him.”

My brother Vance is the person all by himself. Isaiah, Becca, and I all came within five years, but then it was five years before Vance came along and another until the twins, Sophie, and Renae.

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