Chapter Seven
Seven
Casey stood before the team, biting her bottom lip while she scrambled for something to say. The boys were slumped on the locker room benches, chins to chests. Most of the team was there, though a few players had left the rink with their parents immediately after the scrimmage ended, not even bothering to check out with her. She’d been overseeing practices for a week, and they’d just played their first scrimmage of the year against Watertown.
“They smoked us,” Ben said, shaking his head. As goalie, he’d taken a special kind of beating. “I don’t even know how many they scored off me.”
“Twelve,” Rosie said from her spot beside Casey.
“Thanks, Egan.”
Rosie laid her clipboard against her chest and crossed her arms over it. “It’s my job to keep score.” Casey had bribed Rosie into helping her—she was being excused from regular PE—because she knew hockey, and Casey could use all the help she could get. “And it’s not all your fault, Ben,” Rosie said. “Our defense wasn’t much help.” She side-eyed Logan.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, glaring at her.
“Well, how much help can you be,” Rosie said, “when you spend all your time cross-checking and fighting?”
Logan scoffed and shook his head at her but said nothing.
Will sighed while he unlaced his skates. “ Their defense sure knows what it’s doing, I couldn’t get anything past them.”
“You have a sick slapshot, Will,” Rosie said, flipping a hand up. “But you keep trying the same thing over and over again.”
“Thanks, Rosie,” Casey said, shooting her a pointed look. She was right—Logan was in the penalty box more than out, which left them shorthanded on the ice, and although Will was a fast center with deadly aim, it was clear he was too predictable and needed some new moves. Still, it did no good to kick the boys when they were already down.
But Casey wasn’t going to attempt some false pep talk either. They had responded well to the idea of her as interim coach, happy to see Stan Wilson go, but so far her practices had been full of confusion and wasted time while she tried to learn the drills and get her bearings. She didn’t have the knowledge to do this right. She wasn’t delivering for these boys. They were disappointed in her and more discouraged than ever.
“Listen, guys,” she said, sweeping her gaze over all of them. “I’m sorry, but I’ll get better at this. Just hang in there with me.”
There were some half-hearted nods and grumbles as several of them gathered their gear and left the locker room. Only a few of them fist-bumped her as they walked out.
Will, Ben, and Logan remained, their expressions gloomy, and she tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. “We have almost a month and another scrimmage before our first game. We learned a lot from today, and we can use that to inform our practices.” Surprising how confident she sounded when she had no idea how to do that.
“I think you should start by getting the McKee twins under control,” Logan said, chucking his gear in his bag. “Those guys are loose cannons.”
She couldn’t argue, but that was a tall order. Rory and Soren McKee were new additions to the team this year, almost identical strawberry blonds with faces full of freckles. They were fast and strong and potentially great, if they could learn to stay in position and hit the broadside of a barn with a puck. Their shots were like missiles, but it was anyone’s guess where they would end up. Their own teammates had taken to ducking when they took shots. There was talent on the team, but it was raw, and she didn’t know how to cultivate it.
“I’ll work on it,” she said. “Come up with a plan.”
“That would be clutch,” Ben said. “I don’t know how much more of that I can take.” He paused. “I heard some of the third line guys talking about quitting. I mean, they like you, Ms. McCray,” he was quick to add. “But they’re kind of over it, with all the coaching changes, and the losing…”
Casey felt her shoulders sag. Numbers were already down, and they couldn’t afford to lose anyone from the team, not even the weaker players. “Sorry, boys.”
Will gave her a crooked smile that tugged at her heart. “It’s okay, Ms. McCray. Thanks to you, at least we’re playing.”
“I’ll get some drills from my brothers and watch videos over the weekend,” Rosie said.
“Don’t you have anything better to do this weekend?” Logan asked her.
She went red and looked down at her feet. “Not really.”
Casey felt for her, knew exactly what that was like. So it was good to see Logan’s eyes drift toward the floor in what appeared to be regret.
“Another visit from the principal, Ms. McCray?” Ben asked. He pointed over Casey’s shoulder, where Principal Shriver was pushing through the locker room door. “You must be in trouble.”
Bob stood before the boys and rested his hands on his hips. “You guys put up a good fight.”
“If that was a good fight, I’d hate to see a bad one,” Ben said, throwing his bag on a shoulder.
“We’ll do better next time,” Will said.
Casey thanked the kids, told them to have a good weekend as they headed out. Then she turned to Bob. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I might have good news on that front.”
“You found a coach?”
“Possibly. It would only be until January, when Coach Geiger can take over.”
“Thank God.” She felt immediate relief. “Who is it?”
Bob hesitated. “Well, I guess Kyle said he would do it.”
Casey almost said it— My Kyle? —but she stopped herself.
“Coach Geiger talked to him,” Bob said. “Sounds like he’s going to be here for a while to help Danny, so Coach asked him if he’d do it, and he said yes.” He held up a finger. “But only if it’s okay with you, he was clear about that, and we all feel that way, Casey. He’d need your help—an introduction to the boys and parents, getting caught up on how it all works. And you’d need to be with him and the team at all times until his background clearance comes through, which will take a couple of weeks. If it’s going to be too uncomfortable for you, then we don’t do it.”
She wanted to say no. The idea of being around Kyle on a regular basis made her feel unstable. But then she thought about how defeated the team was right now and knew she couldn’t be that selfish. “He should do it,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
The only thing she felt sure about was that Kyle would do a much better job with the boys than she was doing. “Yes, it’s fine.”
He pressed his lips together. “Thanks, Casey.” He turned to go and was almost across the threshold when she called after him.
“Bob? Does he know what grade the boys are in? I mean… their ages?”
His eyes and expression softened. “Yeah. He knows.”
After he left she sat on a bench in the quiet locker room for a few minutes, trying to settle herself with the notion that Kyle was going to be here for a couple of months. She’d been avoiding him since he came back, hoping she could just wait it out until he left.
Looked like she wasn’t going to be able to do that anymore.
“Are you fucking serious?” Angie asked, pausing her glass of chardonnay halfway to her mouth. “You’re going to help Kyle with the team?”
“Yes.” Casey sipped her beer. “Until his clearance comes through.”
Angie scoffed and shook her head, smooth brown A-line bob dancing around her carefully made-up face. As always, she was very put together: silky blouse with skinny black pants and shiny Moon Boots. As opposed to Casey’s jeans, flannel, and wool hat. Angie liked to tell her that living here was no excuse for being unfashionable. They’d been best friends since kindergarten, but in some ways they couldn’t be more different.
“Is it weird having him here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Casey said, figuring they were finally getting to the questions. She’d been waiting for them since they sat down at McDuff ’s fifteen minutes ago. Truthfully Casey hadn’t felt like having a beer, but Angie had drawn the line: If you don’t come out tonight I’m filing a missing person report.
“How are you doing with it?” she asked. “Him being back.”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Angie cocked an eyebrow. “Have you seen him since that first morning?”
“No.”
“Did you learn anything about his life out there?”
“No.”
Angie’s face fell forward and her eyes widened in frustration at the lack of information. “Did he at least get fat? Or lose any hair?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to go over there and chase him out of town with Todd’s shotgun? ’Cause you know I’ll do it.” Angie had known Kyle as long as Casey had, and for a long time they’d all been close. But Angie was still angry as hell with Kyle for leaving.
“No thanks,” Casey said. “But I’ll keep the offer in mind.”
They ordered another round and she flipped the conversation to Angie, asked about her work. She ran Angie’s Hair Studio out of her house part-time.
“I raised my rates and everybody’s bitching about it.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m like, you get what you pay for. Go over to Supercuts in Watertown if you don’t like it.”
Casey knew there was little chance Angie would lose customers. Since she was the closest thing Potsdam came to glamorous, she had a full schedule and a long waiting list. “How’re Todd and the girls?” Angie’s husband of fifteen years sold insurance, and they had two daughters: Morgan, fourteen, and Maddie, twelve.
“Todd’s fine. He had to work late every night this week. Then he wants to come home and tell me about his day.” She pressed fingertips to her temple. “And, let me just say, it’s really hard to pretend to care about adjusters rejecting claims when all I want to do is go to sleep.”
Casey laughed. “How about the girls?”
“They’re good,” Angie said, shrugging a shoulder. “Not much new with them. Except Morgan wants to quit piano, and Maddie refuses to eat anything other than mac and cheese.” She glanced around the bar and sipped her wine.
She was just venting, but Casey sometimes wondered if Angie felt compelled to play down the good. Their lives used to be more similar, and maybe Angie didn’t want to rub it in that Casey was alone now.
“Uh-oh,” Angie said, looking over Casey’s shoulder. “I hate to tell you this, but Jake Renner is on his way over. He looks good. He got some sun on his trip.”
Casey sighed and closed her eyes. “Let’s wrap this up quick,” she said, picking up her beer and downing a large gulp.
Angie nodded right before Jake stepped up to their table, bottle in hand, jacket draped over an arm. They all exchanged hellos and he asked if he could join them.
“We were just finishing up,” Casey said. “But, sure, for a few minutes.”
He took a seat and Angie commented on his tan, which led to lots of questions and answers about his trip to Key West.
“Sounds awesome,” Angie said, side-eyeing Casey. “I would love to get to a warm beach.” She thought Casey was crazy for turning down Jake’s invite. You didn’t have to marry him, just go enjoy a free week on a tropical island.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “It was really nice.” His gaze slid Casey’s way too.
She drained the last of her beer.
“Can I get you another one?” he asked.
“No, thanks. We gotta get going.” She nodded toward Angie, who finished off her wine.
“Well, maybe we can touch base soon,” Jake said.
“Sure,” Casey said, searching her jacket pockets for her wallet.
“I brought you something from Florida,” he said. “I really want to give it to you.”
“I bet you do,” Angie said in a low voice.
Casey kicked her under the table. “I forgot my wallet.”
“Of course you did,” Angie said, reaching for her own wallet and pulling out a card.
While she paid their bill Jake asked Casey again if she could stay for another one, and she declined for the second time. When she and Angie finally got outside and she realized she’d left her keys on the table, she made Angie go back and get them.
In the pale light of early Saturday morning, Casey huffed in frustration and reached for her cell phone to check the time: seven thirty. She’d been lying in bed awake for hours.
It generally took her a while to fall asleep at night, especially since she’d stopped taking the sleeping pills. After relying on them for a long time she decided to quit cold turkey almost two years ago. Her tolerance level started requiring higher dosages, and she just couldn’t function the same the next day. A good novel could bring her to the edge, but she needed the TV to make the leap to sleep. Without it, that quiet in-between stage, after she closed the book and waited to drift off, was too dangerous. Her thoughts wandered to places she didn’t want to go. The white noise of an old rom-com or a dry documentary usually did the trick, and once it did, she slept until her alarm clock went off.
But last night she’d tossed and turned and tried the TV to no avail. Could have been the two beers on an empty stomach. More likely it was seeing Jake again, the needy look in his eyes when he asked her to stay and said he had a gift for her. She’d tried to let him down nicely that night in his office, but he wasn’t taking the hint.
Outside, through a window filled with a cloudy gray sky that matched her mood, she heard the low rumble of Wyatt’s chair on the boardwalk, and then on the ramp up to the back door. Star rose from her big foam bed and nudged Casey’s hand for her morning scratch behind the ears. Then she indulged in a long stretch before trotting downstairs to greet Wyatt, the way she did every morning. The smell of coffee eventually wafted up to her room, and Casey dragged herself out of bed, pulled her hair up in a bun, threw on jeans and a hoodie.
She went down to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee, and found her brother in the living room. He was looking out the front window, a bemused grin on his face.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked.
“Kyle.”
Casey moved next to him to see Kyle pacing their front lawn. His hands were shoved deep in his jeans pockets against the cold. He was wearing only a long-sleeve T-shirt under a short-sleeve T-shirt, not nearly enough for this cold winter morning.
“What’s he doing?” she asked Wyatt.
He shrugged. “He appears to need something, but he won’t come any closer to the house. Think he’s afraid?”
Casey watched Kyle take a few steps across the yard, stop, look back toward his house, then up at theirs before he started pacing again. “I better go see what he wants.” She set her mug down on the coffee table. Star followed her out onto the porch.
Kyle spun around when he heard her but didn’t move any closer. “Hey—I’m really sorry about this,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t want to wake anybody up or… or bother you.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s Dad.” He raised an arm toward his house. “He’s upset, like, really upset, and…” The arm dropped to his side. “I don’t know what to do for him, Casey.”
In all the years she’d known Kyle, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him truly flustered. “Okay. Just give me a sec.” She went back inside, grabbed her jacket and boots from the kitchen, then stopped back in the living room.
Wyatt was still watching Kyle through the window. “He keeps calling to Star, but she won’t go to him.” There was unquestionable satisfaction in his voice. He looked over as she was sliding her boots on. “Where are you going?”
“He needs some help with Danny.”
“Why don’t you let him figure it out? You don’t owe him anything.”
“I’m not doing it for him,” she said, pulling her coat on. “I’m doing it for Danny.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Duly noted.” Casey headed back outside and down the porch steps.
Kyle fell in step beside her, and Star tagged along while they fast-walked to his house. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” he said. “He’s working so hard at his rehab, but he can’t communicate well and I don’t understand what he needs sometimes. I thought we were figuring it out, but this morning he fell trying to get out of bed on his own and got really upset, yelled at me to leave when I tried to help. Then he started throwing things around his room.” They reached the McCray house and Kyle stopped walking, raised a hand to the Foleys across the road, who sat under blankets and sipped coffee in their rockers.
“Morning,” Mrs. Foley called. Mr. Foley nodded at them.
Casey waved at them as well, wondering what they were making of this scene. They’d witnessed Kyle and Casey’s whole relationship from that front porch.
Kyle turned to face her. “I’m not trying to make this your problem. But you’ve always been so good with Dad.”
She peered up at him. With his backward cap and earnest expression, he looked much like the seventeen-year-old boy who found her crying in her kitchen that night a long time ago. She glanced away. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He jogged ahead, opened the door for her. When he tried calling Star inside she turned and started back toward home.
Casey noticed mild disorder in the kitchen right away: breakfast dishes in the sink, mail scattered across the table, tin of coffee and box of cereal left out on the counter. The house was clean enough, but not plumb and square the way Danny kept it.
Kyle led her down the hall. “I set him up in the spare room.” They reached the open door and started to step inside. “Dad, I have—”
He was cut off by a loud guttural noise that sounded vaguely like “Get out,” and a book sailed through the air. Kyle pulled Casey back into the hallway. The book hit the door and fell to the floor.
“You okay?” he asked, his hands still on her arms.
She stepped back out of his grasp. “I’m fine.”
Danny’s hoarse voice floated out from the room. “Case-y? That you?”
“Hi, Danny. I’m coming in, so no more flying objects, okay?” She lowered her voice and spoke to Kyle. “Why don’t you straighten up the kitchen. You know how tidy he likes things.”
“Right.” His head bobbed up and down with energy, like he was relieved to have someone telling him what to do. “Good idea.”
Casey turned into Danny’s room to find him sitting up in bed, and it took everything in her not to walk back out. She’d seen him in the hospital, but he’d been sleeping or in a groggy state. Now the changes hit her full force: the sagging skin on his face and neck, how loose his Potsdam Fire Department T-shirt was, the slight droop to the left side of his mouth. He looked riled up, his eyes shiny, gray hair standing at attention. And his left arm was twitching intermittently. But as she made herself step farther into the room his shoulders relaxed and a lopsided smile appeared. She leaned down to hug him and hung on for a bit.
When they separated, she took the chair beside his bed and gestured to several books strewn about the floor. “Was this your way of getting me over here?” she asked.
He pointed at her. “A sight… for sore eyessshh.”
She swallowed hard, forced the lump back down. “You too. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” It was true. In that moment the guilt was crushing. She thought about trying to explain why she’d stayed away, but she was pretty sure she didn’t need to. Danny understood how difficult it was to have Kyle back. “I should have.”
He grunted and waved her off.
“Sounds like you’re having a rough morning,” she said.
His eyes rolled toward the sky. “I want…” He swung his arms up and out.
She knew what he was going for. He wanted out of that bed, out of that house, out of his whole lousy situation. “I know. You want to get back to normal, like, today. But you know that’s going to take some time, right?”
He offered a weary nod.
“Kyle says you’re killing it in rehab though.”
“Dunno…”
There was so much Casey couldn’t do for Danny. She couldn’t speed up his recovery, or tell him he’d be the same man he was before. So she thought about what she could do for him right then and gestured to his face. “I never took you for the scruffy look.”
He pulled his hand down his cheek, which had spots of uneven growth, a couple of razor cuts. “Is too hard.” He mimed shaving.
“Well, that’s something I can help with,” she said, standing up and removing her jacket. “I’ll be right back.”
The small bathroom down the hall had everything she needed. When she returned to Danny’s room, she had to move a pile of papers from his bedside table to make space for her tools. She scanned the documents as she placed them on the dresser. They were printouts of various exercises. Small notes were written on the pages in Kyle’s cramped handwriting, reminders about how Danny should stand or hold certain objects while doing the exercises, and how Kyle could best help him through the movements.
After she wrapped a towel around Danny’s shoulders, she started by gently combing his hair. The long sigh he let out made her realize how isolated he must have been feeling since waking up in the hospital, not to mention powerless. Kyle was here, and he was clearly trying. But Danny was used to people depending on him, not the other way around. He still consulted at the firehouse, helped train new guys. He volunteered at the Potsdam Food Pantry, delivered Meals on Wheels, had regular poker games, and snowmobiling and fishing days with his buddies. All of a sudden he couldn’t make his body do what he was used to doing every day. No wonder the simple act of having his hair combed, the sense of order it brought, as well as the small human contact, was settling him. To the point where Casey noticed less twitching in his arm.
While she combed and then moved on to shaving his face, he held a small mirror in his hand and watched her work, tried to be helpful by turning his face up, to one side or the other. She kept a steady stream of chatter going, caught him up on the latest: the town board had approved a new junk ordinance and issued old man Robar an ultimatum—get rid of the toilets or face legal action; Wyatt couldn’t keep up with his work orders; she was having a hard time starting the Bronco lately. When she told him she’d been trying to run hockey practices he actually laughed until she held up the razor and gave him a warning look.
It took a while to get every whisker, which he was set on doing, but finally Casey stepped back. “I think we’re done.”
Danny scrutinized his reflection while she used a washcloth to pat his face dry. After a moment he reached up and laid a hand on her arm to get her attention.
She met his gaze in the mirror.
“You… saved me,” he said.
“The doctors saved you,” she said, folding the washcloth.
“No.” When she didn’t respond, he pounded a fist against his leg. “You. You did.”
“Okay, okay.” She touched her fingers to his arm so he would stop and sat on the edge of his bed. “Fine, you can give me all the credit. But then do me a favor and let Kyle help you. That’s why he’s here. And, like it or not, you need him right now.”
Danny considered that for a moment. “O-kay.”
“I’m going to put this stuff away,” she said, gathering the items from the bedside table.
When she got to the bathroom she focused on rinsing off the razor and comb, hanging the towels to dry, putting each thing precisely where it belonged. But no matter how much she concentrated on the task at hand, Danny’s words came back to her. You saved me. He’d meant well, but all it did was make her think of the times she hadn’t been able to save someone… She slammed the medicine cabinet shut, as if slamming the door on those thoughts. Danny was asleep when she returned to his room. He looked better after their little grooming session. Hopefully he’d wake up feeling better as well. She put her jacket on and left the room, closing the door behind her.
When she crossed the hall to the kitchen Kyle was standing with his arms folded, leaning back against the counter, one boot ankle crossed over the other. The room was now free of all clutter. She wondered how long he’d been there, listening.
“He’s asleep,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I helped him shave. That seemed to do the trick.”
“I think just seeing you did the trick.” He shook his head. “I really hope I’m not causing him more harm than good by being here.”
“He wants you here. He’s just scared, and he doesn’t want to show it.”
“Right.” But his gaze floated toward the floor, like he was doubting that.
An idea had come to Casey in the last few minutes. She hesitated to mention it, but went ahead when she thought about how much it would mean to Danny. “Week after next is Thanksgiving,” she said. “Maybe you can bring him to the house for dinner, give him something to look forward to.”
He pulled his head up in surprise. “He would love to have Thanksgiving dinner with you and Wyatt—we both would…”
She sensed a “but” coming as he looked past her, toward her house. Toward his old house. She recalled Wyatt’s words from earlier— He won’t come any closer… Think he’s afraid? —and she realized she was afraid of that too, having him back in the house, all of them sharing a holiday meal around the table like they had for so many years. “Or maybe we bring the food here,” she said. “Might be easier on everyone.”
“That would be great. And you just tell me what part of dinner you want me to take care of.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. Unless things had changed drastically, Kyle’s cooking skills were limited to the microwave.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll order it from the deli counter at the IGA.” Then he smiled. That wide warm smile that reached his eyes.
She almost smiled back, felt the corners of her mouth curl up in response. For a second she’d forgotten where they were in time, forgotten how they got here, to this place where they hadn’t seen each other in years and being around him made her feel like she was skating on very thin ice.
“I heard what you said about the Bronco,” he said. “Do you want me to take a look at it?”
That would be too close to before. “No, thanks,” she said. “If it keeps up I’ll take it in to Mateo.” She tried to make light of it. “He said no one else is allowed to work on it.”
His face stiffened at that, and she knew why. Until he left he’d taken care of that truck, kept it running since she inherited it from her mom.
“I know I still owe for this month’s cell phone bill,” he said. “I just have to get some cash. I forgot with everything going on…”
“No rush.”
“Thanks.” His brows ticked up. “I guess we’re going to be working together.”
It took a second, but then she remembered. The hockey team. “Right. I guess so.”
“Coach says you know this team. What do you think?”
“You have your work cut out for you.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll introduce you to the boys Tuesday after school.” She turned for the door, eager to get outside. It felt claustrophobic in here with him, like the air was too heavy.
He pushed off the counter. “Can I ask you about the night it happened? I have a few questions.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where did you find him?”
Of their own volition her eyes fell to the floor, where Danny had been lying that night. “In here. He was on his side, passed out. There was a lot of blood…” She heard the wobble in her voice and cleared her throat. “I called nine-one-one and waited with him, told him if he died I would kill him.”
“Did you ride with him in the ambulance?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “Look, I’m very sorry I didn’t call you that night. As soon as we got there the doctor had questions for me, and there was a lot going on. The woman behind the admitting desk said she would call you right away…” God, that sounded so fucking weak.
And she could see in the disappointed pinch to his mouth he felt the same way. But he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s my fault I didn’t get her messages for two days.”
Casey knew better. If she had called, he would have answered. Rather than talk to him herself, she’d let a stranger tell him his dad had a stroke. “I should have called.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m glad you were here, but I’m sorry you had to find him like that. I know how hard that had to be on you, Case.”
She flinched. It was the nickname, but also the way he was looking at her. With such compassion. She felt a keen tug in her chest, an urge to open the door to a tidal wave of emotion. One that threatened to pull her down to such painful depths she’d never be able to come back up.
So she blinked, curled her hand into a fist and dug her nails into her palm, trying to make it hurt. “I’m just glad I found him in time. See you Tuesday.” She reached for the knob and left without looking at him again.