Page 135 of My Wife
I inhale a long breath. “Yeah. Everything is great and you’re right about the pancake. I just learned about that recently. This morning, in fact.”
“Personally, I like the first pancake—they can be imperfect, but they still taste good.”
If Coach Badaszek and Jessica are both first pancake eaters, what does that make me? A fixer-upper? In their own ways, did they spot the problems in my life and swoop in? I thought I was the fixer, the father. The thought that haunted me last night appears along with a certain word that Jessica and I talked about.
Forgive.
As if sensing the wild river rapids of my thoughts, Coach remains quiet for a long moment.
“But you made me captain too.”
He nods. “That was a risk, but I know you, Ellis. You stomp around in those skates at first, but then you glide. Never seen a guy as big as you move with such grace matched with speed, agility, and stamina.”
I’m glad at least I get one thing right.
Then, Badaszek points at the ice. “There’s still one piece of unfinished business.”
He could only be referring to one thing. “Valjean?”
“I don’t want any blood on the ice tonight.”
“Mine?”
“Or his.”
“He’s the one who?—”
Badaszek cuts me off. “Your father told me the whole story while we were in Brookking Sound. You’re the one keeping the unforgiveness alive. When you let it go, he’ll show mercy.”
“I don’t expect this to turn into a redemption story.”
“It probably won’t, but he’ll move on when you do.”
“How do you know?” My voice sounds like it belongs to a little boy rather than a man.
“Because I’ve been Henri Valjean.”
Before I can ask what he means, Vohn calls him from the nearest doorway.
Badaszek starts to move away, then over his shoulder, he says, “You don’t get this far by remaining stuck in the past. And I’m not talking about just hockey. Take the lessons with you. Recognize the first pancake when you see it, do what needs to be done, and move on.”
Later, at the game, we play a dominant first period, with Savage picking up the puck and passing it to Pierre who dashed down the left side while I kept Valjean off his tail. Redd gets a wrist shot before the buzzer, making for a two-zero score. Second period, we continue the assault, getting two power plays, leaving the Titans trailing. ‘Bama is a dynamo and Mikey is slick as ice.
My brother gives his all, getting a nifty wrist shot through bumper-to-bumper traffic at the end of the second, but during the last period, we hold the gap then widen it with strong defense and another score thanks to Grady.
I’d like to say Valjean and I play completely clean. There are some close penalties, but no blood for once. Maybe that was the first pancake. We have a chance to try again. Next game, we’ll both leave the past behind.
36
LIAM
After the game in Toronto,Jessica texts me and includes a photo of her, the kid, and Dolly all curled up on the couch together under one of the Knights branded fleece blankets the older woman makes. They’re cheering me on. Well, except KJ. He’s looking down at something with a wild grin on his face. Probably a piece of celebration cake.
The sight of it thaws something inside of me.
“Liam is smiling,” Hayden says in a low tone.
“Who died?” Redd asks.
