Page 12 of Check the Halls
“Will do. Let me know what kind of dog you’re getting.”
“I will,” she laughs before ending the call.
CHAPTER 5
BEN
“Iabsolutely love the foliage this time of year!”
Sandra, the intake coordinator from Big Buddies, has been in my car for twenty minutes and has filled that time commenting on all the things she loves. The list includes but is not limited to: my car, an Indian restaurant we passed a few kilometres back, the pottery class she’s taking, the current weather we’re having, and now the foliage. But most of all? She really loves her job.
She spoke so passionately about supporting families in need. When she confessed her frustration over wanting to do more but feeling constrained by limited resources, her voice wavered and she got choked up. I’ll be honest—I did, too. I could practically feel the way she carried the weight of others’ struggles as if they were her own. It ignited something in me, an urge to step up and make a difference. I’m just not sure how.
I look at the trees as I drive by them. The vibrant reds and burnt orange leaves are beautiful, I’ll give her that. It reminds me of my childhood back on Prince Edward Island. When the leaves started changing colours, itwouldn’t be long until the pond froze, and I could be on some kind of ice almost all the time.
I run a hand through my hair, still damp from my post practice shower. Again, I find myself wondering if Sam plays hockey. Even if he doesn’t, he can probably skate. Most Canadian kids can by his age. It could be fun to take him skating on the Rideau Canal once it freezes. I’ve lived in the city for five years and still haven’t gone.
“We’re almost there,” Sandra says. “Take the next right.”
“Didn’t you say Sam’s mom works in Smith’s Falls?” That would be a long drive everyday.
“Yes. One of her jobs is in Smith’s Falls. It’s a long commute for Elliot.”
“One of her jobs? How many does she have?”
“Three. She works full time as a physiotherapist, though her hours are unpredictable and her shifts sometimes get cancelled. She teaches an aquafit class twice a week at a local swimming pool and, in her limited spare time, makes custom cookie orders. She’s a wonderful woman who is doing her best with the cards life dealt her. Sam is old enough to be at home by himself now, but I know she worries about him spending so much time on his own.”
“Is there a co-parent in the picture?”
For the first time since I’ve picked her up, Sandra’s sunny expression clouds over. “No, there is not.”
Message received.
A couple minutes later, she directs me to a small gray duplex with light blue shutters that desperately need a fresh coat of paint. The grass is overgrown, and I don’t seeany bikes or scooters in the driveway, just an old Toyota Matrix.
I park next to the car and we make our way up the stone pathway to the front door and knock. A moment later, it opens revealing a petite woman who looks too young to have an eleven-year-old. Her ash-blonde hair is gathered on top of her head in a messy bun held together by a bright pink elastic. Not a hair elastic though. The thick rubber band type that holds together stalks of broccoli at the grocery store. Her green eyes widen as they look up at me and her face breaks into a grin.
“Hey! You’re early! Or maybe I’m running late? Either way, come on in!”
The moment I’m inside, she closes the door behind us and takes off down the hall, tidying stacks of books and picking up the odd article of clothing as she goes.
“Leave your shoes on,” she calls to us over her shoulder.
Sandra just smiles as she motions me to follow. “Elliot has one speed: warp,” she whispers. I trail behind her through the narrow hallway.
“Sam, sweetie. Sandra and Ben are here,” Elliot calls as she leads us into the cozy living room. A young boy sits curled up on a faded blue couch, his arms and legs crossed, his focus locked on the chessboard spread out before him on the coffee table. His chestnut hair is tousled and his green eyes are narrowed with quiet concentration. There’s a furrow in his brow, a deep focus that makes him look older than his eleven years, though the faint smattering of freckles on his nose reminds me he’s still just a kid.
“Hi, Sam.” Sandra smiles warmly at him. “It’s good to see you again. This is Ben.”
“Hey there, Sam.” I give him an awkward wave.
After a moment, he looks up and gives me a reluctant smile. Straightening, he extends his right hand to me saying, “It’s nice to meet you.”
It takes me a second to react. I’ve met lots of kids since joining the NHL. I’ve had kids hug me, babble excitedly, even a few who just stared at me in stunned silence. I’ve never been greeted so formally by someone who comes up to my elbow.
I shake his hand, noting his surprisingly strong grip. “Nice to meet you, too, man. I’m excited to get to spend some time with you.”
Sam’s eyes narrow the tiniest bit, but he nods. “Great.”
