Run to You (11 page)

Greta’s face burned.

Ma went on. Once she got started, there was no stopping her. Greta knew that, and she figured the poor Oak Lawn police knew that now. “Yeah, I know what goes on. I see this newspaper, open to the sports section, and here’s this muscle bound idiot trading punches with another fool! Greta, is this the hockey game you went to?”

At that moment, a muscular dark-haired young man entered the hallway. He wore an old workout shirt and blue jeans. His face was bruised; he had a black eye and a bright red cut on his chin.

“Look at this guy. Now this man has been in a fight. Was this fellow arrested, for fighting?”

“No, Ma. This is Brandon Taylor. Brandon, this is my mother.”

Brandon smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Patton.” He offered his hand, but Ma didn’t shake it. “If I shake this guy’s hand, will I be arrested again? You can’t touch anyone. It’s assault.”

“Ma, we’re just trying to help.”

One of the cops managed to speak up. “Miss Patton, the driver is not going to press any charges…”

“Well, I should hope not! I didn’t do anything!”

“Ma, let the policeman talk.”

Brandon, meanwhile, stood to the side and tried to hide his face. He laughed so hard, he almost cried. This was Greta’s mother? This petite woman with gray hair and a mouth like a pissed-off defenseman? The old lady was tougher than that bastard from Quebec.

Since the bus driver wasn’t pressing charges, and no harm was done, Greta’s mother was free to go. Greta wanted to get her out of there before she picked a fight with an officer.

“I have my car right outside,” Brandon offered.

Greta took her mother’s hand. “I drove from work. Ma, can I drive you home?”

“You don’t think I’d take a ride from this big fellow. All banged up. What happened, Brandon? Did you get into a fight with a cop?”

Brandon held up the sports section of the paper so Greta’s mother could plainly see his picture. He pointed to his picture, then to his face. “That’s me. I got in a fight last night. My fight made the papers.”

Greta’s mother grabbed the paper.

She stared at Brandon.

“You are…you’re dating my…”

“You bet, Ma. He invited me to a team dinner, and to a game, and that was last night. And now he’s here, offering to help you and take you home and get out of here.”

Greta’s mother couldn’t take her eyes off the tall hockey player, still handsome even through his beat-up face. For once, she was speechless.

“Here, Ma. I can take you home.” Greta opened her car door. “Do you want to go home, or come to my place, or…”

“I want something to eat. I’m starving. And I want to get home in time to watch my program. There’s a young lady on Jeopardy that reminds me of you, Greta. She’s a pretty little blonde and said she’s an artist. You’re an artist, too.”

Brandon smiled at the older woman. “Did Greta always like art?”

“Oh, you bet she did, Brandon. She drew all kinds of pictures, even in kindergarten. And she was good at modeling clay. When she was in first grade, she had an art teacher that gave them projects to do…”

Greta knew what was coming. “Ma, he doesn’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do, Greta.” Brandon looked at Greta’s mother with his big blue eyes, and turned on the charm. “That’s really interesting. She was talented at a young age, was she?”

“And you should have seen what she made, Brandon. I know I still have it somewhere. She tried to copy the statue of David from an art book…”

“Ma, Brandon is a hockey player. He isn’t that interested in…”

“Greta, you never knew I was an art lover. So tell me about this project, Mrs. Patton. Was it true to life?”

“Brandon, it was so realistic, the art teacher wanted to put pants on the statue!”

Greta’s face grew hot.

“This statue was so true to life, Brandon. I shouldn’t tell you this, but it had what they call realistic anatomy. You know those baby dolls that have…”

“Ma, Brandon never played with dolls. He’s a hockey player.” She tried to change the subject, but that rarely worked with her mother. “When Brandon was young, he put on his skates and…”

“And it was funny, Brandon. Greta was so involved in art school, she didn’t go on a date till she was almost sixteen.”

“That’s interesting, Mrs. Patton.” Brandon winked at Greta. “Maybe I could take you out for a late lunch, and we could talk some more.”

“Oh, thank you, Brandon, but I want to go home. I have some roast beef and Swiss cheese in the fridge. I hope it’s not stale. I always check the expiration dates.”

Greta practically dragged her mother into her car. “Okay, Ma. Let’s go. Brandon might have practice. The season is winding down, and the playoffs are coming.” Brandon held the car door open for Greta’s mother and helped her in. “Don’t forget your seat belt, Mrs. Patton.” He looked at Greta. “I’ll call you. Real soon. We have a lot to talk about.” Greta saw a dozen little devils dance in his eyes.

“Did you ever get your car fixed, Ma?”

“Yes, I certainly did. And you know what, Greta? They didn’t give me that guy who kept checking his fly!”

Brandon burst into a hearty laugh.

The lineups for the Stanley Cup playoffs were set. After a long eighty-two game season, the Quebec Voyageurs wound up with the best record in the NHL, the President’s Trophy, and the first seed in the East. The Ice Bandits were second, and the Washington Capitals third. And in the West, the top seeds were the San Jose Sharks, the Vancouver Canucks, and the Los Angeles Kings.

The Ice Bandits got the Columbus Blue Jackets in the first round. Fans picked the Bandits in four games straight, although Columbus was much improved and would be tough. And after all, it was the playoffs, a whole new season.

All the guys were pretty banged up at this point, including Brandon, but it was time for the playoffs. Mike DeBerry still had his “lower body injury,” as they called it. Mike said it was his right knee, but wouldn’t go into much detail.

True to his word, Brandon called Greta. “I didn’t know your mother was such a character.”

“Oh, Jesus, Brandon. I am so sorry. And you came all the way to the Oak Lawn police station to hear her talk about my art project.”

“That’s okay. I want to see her again. I promise I won’t keep checking my fly.”

“Greta, your mother is the funniest person I have ever met. And I know a lot of characters, believe me.”

The hockey player and his favorite girl sat across from each other in a small restaurant near South Side Precious Metals. They made a strong effort to spend some time together during the heat of the playoffs. Between Brandon’s practices, morning skates, team meetings, and—oh yes, playoff games in Columbus—they managed to find time to have lunch this afternoon.

The Ice Bandits made the fans’ predictions come true and polished off the Blue Jackets in four games straight. Next up were the Detroit Red Wings. Although the Ice Bandits had home ice advantage, the Wings won the first two games in overtime.

Brandon sipped his iced tea. “Maybe someday, if I get to know her better, she’ll show me that art project.”

“Come on, Brandon. I don’t think she saved that.”

Greta grabbed her big black purse and looked through its contents. There were her keys. There was the key to Brandon’s place, that he’d given her soon after the Banquet. And her old wallet.

“I’m paying for lunch, Greta.”

“Oh…thank you. I was looking for some paper. I keep my notes in my purse, and I wanted to be sure I had them.”

Brandon looked into her purse. “That’s some file system you have.”

“Come on. When I’m in a hurry, I just stuff everything into my purse. This one customer is so demanding. I spent hours doing fancy engraving on this bracelet for her daughter, and she’s not satisfied.” She stopped looking through her purse and took a bite of salad. “Is anyone ever satisfied?”

Brandon looked at her face.

“I am as happy and satisfied as anyone could be. I hope you know that.”

“You love your game. I can see it means so much to you. And you have good friends, like Zach…”

“And a good friend I can have lunch with and talk to.” Brandon wasn’t one to get too personal, especially after what Terri did, but he had to tell Greta how he enjoyed her company. It meant a lot to him to be able to get away from the pressure of his game and just relax for a while. Even a short while.

Their lunch lasted barely an hour. Brandon had another workout at the Arena plus a team meeting. And Greta had plenty to do. Business was beginning to pick up after the incident with the old man and the 1932 gold coin. And besides her ongoing projects, and her co-workers’ projects, more people were coming in to sell their items. Steve, the coin expert, heard a rumor that a longtime customer had a box full of old gold coins to sell. Everyone in the area knew the story of the rare gold coin, and many dreamed they’d hit it big too. Mr. Blakely was even starting to smile more.

Greta and Brandon lingered at the door of South Side Precious Metals. He drove her back to work, and then he’d drive to the Arena.

“We don’t spend enough time together,” Greta complained. “I know you can’t control it, but…”

“We’ll make up for it after this is all over. I promise you.” He kissed her, and kissed her again.

“No one can see us here.” Greta pulled him closer.

Finally, they separated. Greta went back to work, and Brandon drove to his place. He had to check his mail and make sure the place was still there. He wasn’t spending much time in his own apartment anymore, except maybe for a quick shower and a bite to eat. He didn’t shave, of course, not during the playoffs, and his playoff beard was growing every day.

He practically lived at the Arena now.

When he wasn’t spending the night at Greta’s.

Brandon made a mental note to leave Greta tickets for the next game against Detroit. He wanted her there, to see how good he played and how great the Ice Bandits were. He saw her work. She could see him work too.

God, this place needs a good cleaning, Brandon thought as soon as he walked through his door. The whole place needed a good dusting, and a thorough vacuuming. Dishes sat piled in the sink and on the counter. A jacket lay on the couch; shoes and socks were scattered everywhere.

And the bedroom. Brandon wondered if a colony of insects had taken up space under his bed. He hadn’t changed the sheets in ages. Everything stopped during the hockey season, including keeping up with the housework. Sometimes he called a cleaning lady that Vyto had recommended, but Brandon hadn’t gotten around to calling her lately.

Brandon picked up an odd shoe, and started looking for its partner. He looked near the nightstand, the chest of drawers, and then at the bedpost nearest the window.

He saw something shiny at the foot of the bedpost.

Could it be…

Brandon bent down and picked up his missing gold ring.

His ring, his grandmother’s ring, had been in his possession all along. All this time, he already had what he’d been looking for.

Perhaps he had something else he’d been looking for, too. A good woman to wear that special ring.

He pondered that as he drove to the Arena.

Brandon was met at the entrance to the dressing room by Coach Jock and one of his assistants. “Have you read the paper, Taylor? See who’s in the news now.”

Coach handed him the day’s Sun-Times. Then Kyle came up to him with a Tribune. “Do you know this girl?” He pointed to a picture on page three.

The story about the old man, the gold coin, and the jewelry designer who personally escorted him to the biggest coin dealership in the area made both Chicago papers, and according to Coach Jock, even got a mention on national news.

Brandon sat in front of his locker and read the newspaper articles, over and over again. He kept staring at the photo of the jewelry designer too. Greta hadn’t mentioned anything about this during their brief lunch together. She seemed more concerned about him and his hockey games, if he was eating enough and taking care of himself.

Greta, his girl Greta, did that old man a big favor, maybe the biggest favor of his life. His gold coin was worth a hundred thousand dollars, or more. It would be sold at an auction.

He heard that some of those coin shops, antique shops, whatever, just took everything they got, and if they found something rare and valuable, they cashed it in and kept the profits, without a word to the person who’d sold it to them.

Greta didn’t do that. She made sure this man got what his coin was worth. She could have made a big profit, but she did the honest thing. She did the right thing. And she didn’t even mention it during that crazy day when they got her mother out of jail.

How trustworthy could such a person be?

Brandon thought about that as he dressed for the game. He thought about a lot of things.

People let you down all the time. Fans were fickle. Your old girlfriend cheated on you. Your childhood hero turned out to be an old grouch. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was your good friends and teammates, the wonderful game of hockey. But most of all, what mattered was having someone special to share it all with. The funny and the sad, the joys and the losses, and the weird stuff you just had to laugh at.

A special person, who had her own life and her own interests and a brain in her head. A special girl who was trustworthy, who made sure an old man got full value for his rare coin. And who said she’d pick you up at the airport at goddam two in the morning, and showed up, even though she had to work at her job the next day.

Greta Patton was his special someone. He knew that now. And he was sure as can be. He had that same warm feeling the first time he entered the Ice Bandits’ locker room and saw his name on the back of his sweater. He knew this was where he belonged, what he’d always wanted.

It was time for him to unpack his suitcase, once and for all, and be home. Make a home with Greta Patton, the pretty and devoted young woman who taught him to trust again. He trusted his teammates, of course. That was what the game of hockey was all about.

But now he trusted a woman who loved him.