Chapter 40 Ben
Ben
Ben could say without hesitation that Thanksgiving dinner was a huge success.
Word must have gotten out that his parents would be hosting not only him, but also several of his NHL teammates.
He could admit he was treated like something of a local celebrity, but his parents’ friends and neighbors had never tried to crash the doors down to secure an invitation to break bread with him.
They were too used to him for any of that.
He was just a hometown boy who had made good.
Not so for his new teammates. If the horde of people crowding his parents’ house was any indication, his teammates were the true celebrities.
As Ben took in the many faces squeezed together around the dining room table, as well as the groups of people who had been seated at folding tables he’d set up in the living room at his mother’s request, he couldn’t help but feel like half the town had shown up to celebrate with them.
Ben might have felt bad for his part in instigating all this if his parents didn’t appear to be enjoying themselves so much.
Ben smiled as he turned his head to watch Melody chatting with Mr. Schubert, his peewee hockey coach, who was seated on her other side.
The man had to be eighty if he was a day.
The thick blond hair Ben recalled from his childhood had been replaced by a shock of white hair, but if he closed his eyes, he would have been hard-pressed to guess his age.
Mr. Schubert—who would always be Mr. Schubert, no matter how many times he insisted Ben could now call him Gary—was practically vibrating with excitement as he told Melody all about Ben’s early years on the ice.
Mr. Schubert had been the first to recognize Ben’s skills and encourage him to pursue hockey seriously—a fact his old coach didn’t make any bones about sharing with anyone who would listen.
Ben smiled fondly at the old man. He didn’t know what course his life would have taken without Mr. Schubert’s ardent encouragement, but he was grateful he hadn’t had to find out.
A mantle of happiness settled over Ben as Mr. Schubert regaled Melody with some of his favorite stories from his coaching days.
Ben had heard the tales of his first hat trick and successful Datsyuk—an extremely effective breakaway deke named after Pavel Datsyuk, for whom it was a trademark move—so many times he could recite the words of the story right along with Mr. Schubert.
Ben never grew tired of seeing the look of pride that lit up Mr. Schubert’s face when he shared his memories.
To look at his old coach, one would be inclined to think Ben had cured cancer rather than exhibited uncharacteristic proficiency with a composite stick and a frozen rubber disk.
While Ben tried to keep his ego in check, he wouldn’t pretend it didn’t feel good to know he held the respect of a man he’d always admired.
Ben felt his heart expand further still as he watched Melody lean in to listen to Mr. Schubert’s enthusiastic tales.
Mr. Schubert was a kind-hearted and interesting man, but Ben loved the way Melody seemed to be giving his old coach her full, focused attention as if there was nowhere else she’d rather be and no one else she would rather be talking to.
It continued to baffle him how Melody could become more beautiful to him every time he looked at her.
He’d always recognized what a stunning woman she was.
Anyone with eyes in their head could see she had been blessed with extraordinary good looks, but the small details of her beauty stood out to him with ever-growing prominence.
He loved the excited, but understated, movements of her slight but curvy physique.
The thoughtful tilt of her head. The way she couldn’t help but nod along when others were speaking, as though lending her support to whatever words they wished to say.
As Melody laughed along with Mr. Schubert—over what, Ben couldn’t say, since he’d gotten distracted cataloguing her many appealing attributes—his heart gave a little squeeze.
There was no escaping it. Melody mesmerized him.
Everything from the sparkle lighting her eyes to the enchanting curve of her generous lips drew him in, making him feel hypnotized.
The longer Ben looked at her, the more convinced he felt that beautiful wasn’t nearly a powerful enough adjective to describe the full depth of Melody’s appeal.
There was just something about her. It was as if some incandescent spark within her managed to project outward, making every one of her stunning features all the more noteworthy.
Every last detail—from the glowing, sun-kissed tint of her flawless complexion to the way he seemed to be able to make her cheeks flush with charming patches of color—pulled him under her spell.
There was no doubt about it. Ben was falling hard and fast. He could only hope Melody was falling right along with him.
Ben jolted ever so slightly when he felt the gentle press of Melody’s hand on his denim-clad thigh. He looked up to find her smiling softly at him. God, that smile. It was warm and beautiful and free of any trace of artifice. Just like the lady herself.
Ben slid his hand until it lay lightly on top of hers.
He wove their fingers together before lifting their joined hands up to his mouth.
He held her gaze as he angled her arm so he could lay a gentle, lingering kiss on the underside of her wrist. He felt a deep and primal sense of satisfaction when he noticed gooseflesh spread up her arm.
And was it his imagination, or had her breath also quickened?
“You’ve found a real keeper, my boy,” Mr. Schubert spoke into the charged silence.
Ben gave Melody’s hand a gentle squeeze before lowering his arm and returning their still-joined hands to rest on his thigh. Their hands were now out of sight, under the dining room table, but Ben liked knowing he and Melody were still connected.
Ben respectfully shifted to face Mr. Schubert before responding. “I certainly have.”
His gaze flicked back over to Melody. He made sure he had her full attention before he repeated, “I certainly have.”