Thin Ice (41 page)
Catrina sipped her coffee, her expression sad. “What little love I stil felt for him died the day he disowned you, and I vowed as soon as the children were gone, I would come looking for you.” She stared out at the descending twilight. “I think he knew it, too."
Emily thought of her abortive telephone cal after she'd gotten her job at Minneapolis General and silently agreed.
"But then he died, and I knew one day you'd cal, and I wanted to be here when you did.” She smiled and patted Emily's knee. “I figured sooner or later you'd want to find out if your foundation money had been wel spent."
"You knew?"
Catrina smiled serenely. “I knew your father didn't have any rich relatives in Minnesota who'd suddenly decided to shower his children with educational grants."
"What did he say? About the money?"
"There wasn't much he could say. You made sure he couldn't touch it. But I'm sure he knew it came from you. Whatever else he was, Emily, he wasn't stupid.” Catrina studied her eldest daughter. “I wrote several times, but you never answered. So did the others."
Emily recaled the letters she'd refused to read. She prayed Anna stil had them. “I'm sorry, Mama, I...” Awkwardly, she explained about the letters.
"I understand, baby."
They swung in silence for a while before Emily quietly asked, They swung in silence for a while before Emily quietly asked,
“When did daddy die?"
"Almost a year ago. He plunged his truck into a ravine in Idaho."
"Had he been drinking?"
"He never drank on the job. He was happy on the road. It was only when he came home to us that he drank.” She said it without bitterness, as if it were simply a fact of life.
"Then what happened?"
"I suspect that's between God and your father, sweetheart."
Emily pictured her father driving someone else's eighteen-wheeler along some long and lonely highway, thinking about his life and shattered dreams. Thinking about his wife, who no longer loved him, and privately disobeyed him, but publicly stood by him despite his tyranny, thinking about the children he'd never bothered to get to know, who were leaving one by one to fulfil dreams of their own.
Dreams he knew nothing about and would never share with them.
Was it possible he'd finaly realized his mistakes, realized it hadn't been his wife and children who held him back, but himself? Had guilt driven him over that ravine? Remorse?
The thought gave Emily no satisfaction. Instead, just as when she'd seen John and Patricia Montgomery at the United Hope banquet, pity stirred inside her. Pity, and sadness for what might have been.
pity stirred inside her. Pity, and sadness for what might have been.
If Duane Jordan had only given them his love, his children might have helped him to achieve his dream of owning his own rig one day, might have even helped him to buy one.
Look at al they'd done for their mother in the past year. The new carpeting, new appliances, siding, furniture, plumbing, had al come as gifts from her children. Her father hadn't believed in insurance.
Hadn't seen fit to provide for his family beyond the barest necessities, even in death.
"Have you forgiven him?” Emily asked.
Catrina Jordan smiled softly. “Would I be at peace if I hadn't?"
Tears weled in Emily's eyes. “Oh, Mama, I've missed you so much."
"Mom! The game's almost on.” Robbie slammed through the back screen door, interrupting Emily and Catrina's hug. “Can we watch it?"
Catrina sent Emily a misty-eyed look. “The game?"
"Hockey,” Emily explained, and surreptitiously brushed her tears aside. “The Stanley Cup finals. The Minneapolis Saints are in contention for the championship. Robbie's their number one fan.” She ruffled her son's hair. “He's quite a skater."
Catrina beamed at her grandson. “Wel, then by al means ask Catrina beamed at her grandson. “Wel, then by al means ask Annalise to turn it on."
"Al right! Aunt Lise, Grandma says it's okay!"
As Emily watched him barrel back into the house, a part of her wished she had the courage to folow. Instead she turned to her mother and forced a smile.
"So tel me, what was everyone's reaction to the picnic?"
* * * *
The Bombers had beaten the devil out of the Saints—literaly.
Driled them into the boards so hard and often it was a wonder they'd only lost one player to injuries. Even so, Cordel wouldn't be back any time soon. Not after hitting the ice head first. The man's brains would be scrambled for months.
Eric barely remembered skating off the ice when the debacle was over. He'd been too focused on not letting his pain and exhaustion show. The rest of the guys, judging by the sheer number of cuts, bruises and welts he'd seen in the dressing room afterward, had bruises and welts he'd seen in the dressing room afterward, had been doing pretty much the same.
He couldn't blame the team. They'd played their hearts out, played an excelent game by most standards. But finesse alone wasn't going to win the Cup, not at this rate. Eric stil burned as he remembered the sly smile Granger had shot him as he'd skated past the Bombers’ bench after the game.
If the Saints didn't make it up on Monday night, they'd have to re-evaluate. Opt for more physicality and less finesse. It galed him to think they might have to sink to their opponents’ neanderthal level of playing, but he couldn't dismiss the option. Because when they played in Baltimore on Wednesday, the going would only get tougher. Baltimore's fans were almost as intimidating as their robo-cop players, and twice as bloodthirsty.
Eric's last thought as he slipped into sleep was how good it would have felt to come home to Emily's healing hands.
Late Wednesday night, Emily sat alone on the back porch swing, restless. Not for the first time in four days, she thought of Eric. The Saints had lost—again. According to the papers, the Bombers were proving to be a more cunning opponent than anyone had given them credit for. In each of their three games, they'd come from behind to win. One more Bombers victory and it would be al over for Ronald Stump's Al-Star Saints.
Stump's Al-Star Saints.
Sadly, Emily recaled how excited Eric had been about taking his team al the way. She stil couldn't bring herself to watch his games, but with each loss, it became harder not to reach for the phone.
But what would she say?
What could she say?
* * * *
“What about rols and condiments?” She hadn't seen either in the dozen grocery bags she'd carried in from her rented Explorer earlier. She'd taken the largest vehicle on the lot, and it seemed to be working out wel for her, even if it did remind her of riding in Eric's Explorer.
Catrina gave a final shake to her vinaigrette marinade. “Martin's department. He'l bring them along tomorrow."
"What about—"
"Relax, Emily. Everything's under control. Sheila and Suzanna are coordinating the vegetables and casseroles, and we've got enough hamburger patties and hot dogs in the freezer to feed an army. Al that's left is for you to enjoy yourself."
that's left is for you to enjoy yourself."
Emily looked at the twenty napkin-wrapped sets of eating utensils she'd roled and tucked before she'd tackled the beans. “I stil can't believe they're al coming."
Her mother sent her a surprised look. “Why wouldn't they?"
Emily could think of several reasons, al of them practical. But practical apparently wasn't on the agenda this week. Catrina caled, and expected her family to come. The first out-of-town arrivals were due in tonight, sometime after ten.
"Where do you plan to put them al?"
"Between Suzanna's and Martin's houses and here, we'l have plenty of room. Sheila's also got a spare room we can use."
Laughter floated from the living room, where Robbie and Annalise sat cross-legged at the coffee table, doing Robbie's schoolwork.
The moment it had arrived via Fed Ex, Annalise had appointed herself his tutor.
"She plans to be an elementary school teacher,” Catrina had said with maternal pride as Emily turned to her with an arched eyebrow.
And a wonderful one she'd be if Robbie's sudden dedication to schoolwork was any indication. Annalise seemed to know al there was to know about keeping an eight-year-old in line. Then again, his utter adoration for “Aunt Lise” was also a powerful motivator.
his utter adoration for “Aunt Lise” was also a powerful motivator.
Emily smiled. That, and their standing date with the Nintendo when his daily assignments were done.
"Where does Annalise want to go to school?” Emily asked, thinking of the foundation.
Catrina wiped her hands on her apron and reached for Emily's bowl of snapped beans. “Northwestern. But you're not to worry about that, either. You've done more than enough for this family. It's time you retired that foundation of yours and spent your money on yourself for a change."
"I have enough money..."
"When was the last time you took a vacation? Or bought something for the sheer pleasure of owning it, instead of settling for something else because it was on sale or more practical? Or making do with what you already have for another year?"
Emily looked at her mother and knew she faced a losing battle. “I didn't mind, Mama."
Her mother's features softened. “I know, sweetheart, but you've sacrificed more than any of us had a right to ask. It's past time to let your brothers and sisters carry the load.” She rinsed Emily's beans in the sink, transferred them to the boiling water on the stove.
“Martin, Sheila and Suzanna have already discussed it with me, but you'l have a family meeting when everyone else gets here before you'l have a family meeting when everyone else gets here before you make any final decisions."
Emily knew better than to argue with her mother when she used that tone of voice. She stood and stretched. “I think I'l take a walk."
Catrina smiled. “Dinner's at six. We'l make pies after."
Emily grinned. Her mother hadn't forgotten how much she enjoyed helping her bake pies. She checked on Robbie and Annalise, who were wrapping things up and chalenging each other to their daily grudge match, then stepped into the afternoon sunshine.
Aimlessly she stroled, and enjoyed herself thoroughly. With no hospital to go to, no schedules to meet, and with Robbie being doted on by his grandma and aunts, for the first time in her life, Emily felt free of responsibility, free to come and go as she pleased.
Her mother had encouraged her shamelessly—spoiling her rotten to boot. She'd read spine-tingling bestselers into the wee hours, slept late, and awoken to find a spatula-wielding Catrina prepared to whip up anything her heart desired.
Evenings she'd spent on the back porch swing with her mother and whichever siblings dropped by. Each night she'd gone to bed missing Eric, but secure in the knowledge she'd never be alone again.
She took a circuitous route around town this time, having decided it was time to visit her past. Until today, she'd preferred to explore the was time to visit her past. Until today, she'd preferred to explore the newer parts of town, the busy streets and stores that had sprung up with the advent of people moving out from Detroit. What she'd remembered as little more than a two-stoplight town in the middle of nowhere had, with the arrival of an interstate exit four years earlier, emerged as a thriving community of young urban professionals intent on escaping the city to capture their own slice of Michigan country.
She liked the changes. She liked knowing she'd helped contribute to them. Martin was hip-deep in land surveying projects, Suzanna was head of the town council, and Sheila's distinctive signs adorned businesses al over town.
Like her mother's house, the town seemed cheerier now, welcoming and prosperous. With Detroit less than an hour's drive away, Turnersvile now provided the best of both worlds for commuters and natives alike. She thought of the sprawling new medical complex on the edge of town, and decided it wouldn't take much prodding to consider a move back to Turnersvile. Her mother had hinted at the idea, but Emily had reserved comment until she had time to mul it over.
She doubted Robbie would oppose the move. Just this morning he'd asked her wouldn't it be neat if he could join Little League with Damien, Suzanna's oldest. But thoughts of how disappointed Anna and Augustus would be, how much she'd miss Sarah and Susan and the others kept her cautious. She worked with a team she could count on. The prospect of diving into the unknown daunted her.
count on. The prospect of diving into the unknown daunted her.
Then again, maybe it was time for a change. A fresh start. In Turnersvile she wouldn't have to worry about crossing paths with Ryan ... and wouldn't be reminded so much of Eric.
Or would she? Bittersweet thoughts of him snuck up on her at the most unexpected times. Like when she'd driven past the local movie theatre and seen Harry Potter was playing. Or when she'd snitched a piece of lemon meringue pie while her mother took a nap. Or when she'd gone to the sports store to buy a voleybal for the picnic and passed the hockey sticks.