Chapter 26
“And I want to say a big welcome back to Tinks, it’s good to see you’ve been cleared to play again.”
Kyle nodded to the coach and acknowledged his teammates’ applause.
“We missed you, man,” Sam called.
“Would’ve made the second round if you’d been with us.”
He shrugged. “Can’t help bad luck.”
Although looking back on all that had happened this year, none of it had felt unlucky.
He’d re-met Gen. Learned he had a daughter. Gotten serious with God. Seen Gen and Bella get saved. All of that was awesome.
Now all he needed was to find a house that maybe Bella would like to come stay in occasionally, and life would be golden.
Well, it’d be more golden to get that heavenly seal of approval to persuade Gen that they should be more than just parents of a child, but that was God’s timing, and Kyle was trying to be patient.
Coach Aitken continued, and Kyle refocused, doing his best to get back into the world of hockey. To remember plays, retrain his brain. So much time off had proved a bit of a struggle during training camp, when the amount of weight he’d lost became apparent.
His trainers had been concerned, and Doc Cheloff had warned the only way he’d be cleared to play was if he entered a phase of weight gain and muscle building.
Pro players always lost a fair bit of muscle as the season ground on, and he was already starting under his usual playing weight.
He’d be more liable to get picked on, to be a target for unscrupulous players who didn’t mind delivering huge hits and thumping him into the boards.
With less body mass, there was less protection for bones and those vital inner organs he knew so much more about these days, so he needed to do what he could to up his weight.
And eating as many ice creams as he had with Bella this summer didn’t really count.
“Tinks, I want a word with you before we head out.”
“Sure.”
Coach Aitken rubbed his bald head, waiting until the room was cleared, then studied him. “You’re doing okay?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve never felt better?”
“You certainly seem to have something a bit different going on.”
Shine.
Oh! Okay.
So he explained a bit about what had happened, about how God had used the past few months to work things out for good. “And I guess that makes me happy. Which I know is probably uncool, but I can’t help it.”
Coach Aitken looked at him. “And your doctor friend?”
“Yeah, she’s coming tonight. You might even see her. I got her tickets behind the bench.”
“Hmm, well, I’ll be sure to say thank you if I do. Now let’s play.”
Kyle skated onto the ice for the warm-up, the thrill and rush of it drawing new adrenaline. He loved this game. Loved this sport.
A glance at the bench saw Bella and Gen were already seated there, along with—he squinted—Marco? Huh. Okay. He waved, and they jumped up and waved back, each wearing a jersey with his name and number.
“Your girl is a cutie,” Sam smirked as he skated past.
“Bella. She’ll be ten next year.”
“I meant your older one, but okay.”
He shook his head, knowing Sam was teasing. He’d seen the way Sam kissed his wife, so knew it was all good there. But it would be nice to one day know that Gen was his girl. His wife, one day, sure, but just to kiss her again would be amazing.
He shifted to practice passing pucks. Sorry, God. I know I’m supposed to be content but waiting is hard, You know?
He took his turn shooting into the net. Reassured the team doc that he felt fine. Which he did. Well, fine everywhere except these occasional bouts of discontentment.
Sorry, God.
Soon.
Whoa. Okay then. He smiled.
* * *
“Mommy, I’m scared.”
Gen side-hugged Bella, not wanting to admit to the same. She couldn’t bear it if Kyle got injured. Especially not in this, his first home game in months.
“He’s going to be fine. God is with him, remember?”
Bella nodded, and they cheered as one of his teammates scored a goal, and clapped as Kyle nearly did the same a minute later. This game against Los Angeles was intense, and they were only halfway through the first period.
She watched Kyle move, her heart twisting as he glided over the ice with the same determined focus he’d possessed in high school. She’d always thought him graceful, and now his extra muscled leanness gave a devastating edge to his skills.
And yes, maybe she was biased, but he really did seem to be the most skillful player out there, possessing instincts that others lacked.
Her breath held as she watched him, feeling the weirdness of remembering the boy she’d loved while watching the man she’d always known he could be.
Someone strong, yet gracious. Fierce, yet kind. Someone who was determined, but patient. Oh, she loved him. She loved him. Lord, keep him safe.
“You okay there, doc?” Marco asked from beside them.
Kyle had got a spare ticket just in case Mom could come after all, but when she couldn’t, Bella had suggested Marco might like to come instead. And seeing Marco had been such a good neighbor over the years, it had been an instant yes.
She nodded. “Yep. I’m just praying for him. It’s pretty intense.”
He looked at her curiously for a moment, then shrugged. “I reckon.”
Hmm. Well, at least she was getting pretty consistent in dropping some God-bait, as Kyle liked to call it.
Little comments and things that showed she was a Christian, that she wasn’t hiding her light under a bushel, whatever that was.
But she knew that verse in the Bible meant shining a light for Jesus, which she wanted to do.
Because how could she let people she cared about—Mom, Marco, even Philippa and David Tinker—run the risk of spending an eternity in hell?
She couldn’t. So she wouldn’t shy away from sharing the good news.
From their position, they could see the players and coaching staff, and hear the instructions and banter on the bench. Comments like when the players talked between themselves, one saying to another who had been quick to fight, “Those gloves must be slippery, they fell off pretty quick, eh?”
Then, when a puck skidded into the bench and nearly hit one of the younger players, she heard him say he was fine. “I got the reflexes of a goalie. It would’ve cut my beard but I shaved two days ago.”
She chuckled. Bless him.
Then later, when one of the Los Angeles players skated too close to the bench, another of Kyle’s teammates, skating in, “accidentally” tripped him.
“Was that absolutely necessary?” the LA player complained.
“Absolutely.”
Marco chortled. “These guys are funny.”
Then later again, when the captain complained to the ref, she heard Kyle’s tease. “You gotta excuse him. English is his second language.”
She smiled. Kyle was witty.
Their position so close to the team area also meant that when Kyle skated in, he looked up and saw them and his face lit. He waved, and they waved back, Marco too.
Then he had to listen to the coach, who was giving instructions.
The coach was a tall bald man, and had a funny skin blemish on the back of his head.
“You gals want fries? I want to get there before the crowds.”
“Too much fast food clogs your insides, Marco,” Bella chided.
He winked. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, is that a yes?”
“Yes, please,” Bella singsonged.
Gen smiled, which quickly faded as she peered closer to see the coach’s skin blemish.
“What are you looking at, Mom? Is Kyle there?”
“No. He’s down there.” Seated further along, watching the game.
“Then what is it?”
She pointed to the man’s head. “Can you see what’s on that man’s head?”
Bella peered closer. “His head has a funny spot on it.”
Yeah, it did. It might look weird, but she took a photo, saw one of the players notice, so she gave a sheepish smile.
The coach had moved away, so she couldn’t do anything, but peered at her phone, enlarging the photo.
Bella put a sticky finger on Gen’s phone. “You know, that looks like one of those funny spots you told me about.”
Bella had become her study buddy back when Gen had been studying for an oncology exam and needed to remember all kinds of random and not-so-random facts.
They’d talked about moles, the signs that warned could be a malignant melanoma.
A large diameter, discolored, raised, with an irregular border, and one that changed over time.
And while she couldn’t know about the last indicator, the rest were staring at her from on top of the coach’s head.
Her chest squeezed. Okay. Someone had probably told him, and he’d had it checked out already, but just in case he hadn’t, then she needed to let him know.
And while the most obvious thing would be to tell Kyle, she knew nobody liked to have body parts pointed out.
She didn’t want to make the coach feel uncomfortable.
But how could she let him know without drawing attention from people who probably didn’t need to know either?
She worried about it through the next period, during which Kyle scored a go-ahead goal. She cheered and clapped and then, when a teammate nudged him to turn around, placed a hand over her heart then pointed to him, which he acknowledged with a nod and a smile.
Oh, this man. She loved this man.
Then the coach moved back to showcase his unfortunate mole.
“That dude has a big head,” Marco muttered. “I can barely see the game.”
True, but it gave plenty of opportunity for her to see that the mole was big enough to do something about. She got out her phone, tapped in a message, and held it against the glass.
Coach, the mole on the top of your head might be cancer.
“What are you doing, Mommy?”
“Trying to get the coach’s attention.”
“Don’t you want to get Kyle’s?”
Well, she’d do that if this didn’t work.
The team and staff traipsed down the tunnel for the second intermission, and they waved to Kyle who waved back.
“Want a beer?” Marco asked.
“Really?”
He shrugged. “I thought it worth a shot.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Thank you for offering, but we both prefer lemonade.”
He chuckled, nodded, and disappeared. Leaving them to watch the Jumbotron, with its advertisements and interviews.