Kim Findlay - Her Family's Defender

When he’d been growing up, hockey hadn’t just been something he enjoyed. He and his dad had moved around, and Troy had been in hand-me-down clothes, but his talent at hockey had provided him with friends, and status at school. He had no idea how to help Tommy, but it would be so easy to help Angie by giving her that same cache...except, Michelle.

He was tempted to just go over and offer to pay for the kid’s hockey. But he was sure she’d slam the door in his face.

Maybe if he could get the kid into a program that would pay for hockey He worked for a hockey team—they must have some kind of fund for underprivileged kids.

And once Angie and Michelle were happy, he could focus on regaining his own life.

* * *

THE TEAM WAS a few days into training camp and Troy was feeling good. He was in the best shape of his life; his skills were as sharp as they’d ever been in training camp.

Coach Parker was running drills. Troy’s job as the defender was to stop the winger coming in. But as the winger approached him, Troy froze.

He’d done this hundreds—if not thousands—of times. But that had been before he got sick, when he could trust his body to be strong, invincible. Now, he didn’t trust it.

So instead he tried to use some fancy stick work to steal the puck. But JP slipped past him, and buried the puck in the net.

“What the— What was that, Green?” Coach Parker yelled at him. The other players had turned at the noise. He could feel their stares.

“Trying something new,” Troy said with a grin.

Coach shook his head and barked for the players to start the next drill.

Troy had always played a physical game, never afraid to throw a hit, block a shot or get into a fight.

But he was cautious now. What if he jarred something and that caused the cancer to come back? It wasn’t logical, but the fear was there all the same. And he wasn’t sure how long he could cover it up.

Troy rushed through the cool-down, and was in his street clothes before a lot of the players were even out of the showers. He couldn’t deal with anyone else getting on his case right now.

Unfortunately, he ran into starting goalie Mike Reimer’s wife, waiting for Mike to come out. She was a redhead with thick glasses. She and Troy hadn’t ever gotten along that well. The first time he met her she’d reamed him out for a play on the ice. Another time she’d checked him onto his butt when he made a comment about her hockey skills.

She’d ended up helping the team during the playoff run. Following the hip check she’d given him, he’d scored a breakaway goal in the first playoff game. It had ended up becoming a good luck ritual, with players lining up for the privilege of having Bridget knock them down, but she and Troy never became friendly.

Today she studied him intently as he strode out of the locker room. Not a good sign.

“Good to see you back, Green,” she said. She wasn’t completely convincing. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes squinty.

“Good to be back,” Troy answered.

“Feeling okay?”

Troy eyed her suspiciously. “Are you asking to be polite or is there a reason for asking?” he asked. Bridget had never been one for small talk.

Bridget grinned. “I was trying to be tactful, but I’m not very good at it. I was watching you play, and I wondered if you’d rushed back too quickly.”

Troy suppressed a smile. People had been wondering about that since camp began, but they had all approached the matter delicately. Bridget had always been blunt.

“Did Mike tell you to ask me?”

Bridget squinted at him again. “Mike doesn’t ‘tell’ me to do things. I asked him how you were doing.” She paused.

Troy didn’t want to play games. “And what did he say?”

“He didn’t. So something was wrong.”

Damn. Troy had hoped no one had noticed.

“It’s just the start of camp. Guys aren’t in game shape yet,” he said defensively.

“I understand why the others are being a little careful checking you, but I don’t understand why you’re being so...hesitant. Everyone expected you to come out, I don’t know, mad. You lost a year, but instead of taking it out on the ice, you’re skating around as if you’ve got eggs in your pockets.”

Troy took a step toward her. He was a big guy, and when he wanted to, he could be pretty intimidating. Bridget planted her hands on her hips and set her jaw.

“I’m going to say something,” she began, “and you can take it or leave it. But it’s not something anyone here will tell you. I had a swimmer last year who had cancer. He got through it, but he decided against returning to swimming. There was no shame in it. He just reprioritized his life. If playing hockey isn’t what you want, you can retire.”

Troy gaped at her. Retire? Was she crazy? He wasn’t going to retire. He was going to play. If she had wanted to anger him, mission accomplished. If they wanted him to go out and plaster someone into the boards, just get Bridget to do her motivating speech before a shift, and he’d be set.

“Are you doing psychotherapy now, Bridget? Am I supposed to break down and spill all my problems?” Troy mocked.

“Please, no. I’d need months of therapy myself if I ever got into the mind of Troy Green.” She shuddered.

Troy frowned. She was looking at him with that “poor you” expression that revolted him. He wanted to divert her, quickly. And a perfect distraction popped into his head.

“I do have one problem you might be able to help me with.”

“Girl trouble?” Bridget asked, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Troy wanted to refute that vehemently. He didn’t have girl trouble, and if he ever did, he certainly would never discuss it with Bridget. Just the thought of it made his hair stand on end.

Then he considered. “Well, it’s kind of girl trouble.”

Bridget made a face.

“It’s about a kid.”

“ You have a kid? Say it’s not so,” she said with surprise.

That jolted him. Had she found out he couldn’t have kids...? No, she couldn’t. That wasn’t something he’d shared with anyone. Focus, Green.

“No. It’s my neighbor’s kid. She’s a girl, and plays hockey. Well, she did before they moved here, but her mother can’t afford it now and I wondered if you knew any way to get money for her to play. I asked the team’s management, but they don’t have anything they can set up at this point in the season.”

Bridget looked puzzled. “What about her father? And if they live near you, how can they not have enough money?”

“Father’s dead—war vet. But they’re keeping that news to themselves. And I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I’m sure they don’t have money. They’re house-sitting for my neighbor. I don’t think they’re paying rent.”

“Why don’t you just pay for the kid’s hockey? I heard about that endorsement you signed. Surely you can afford it.”

“Of course I’d pay if I could. But the mother wouldn’t go for it.” Troy could imagine Michelle’s reaction if he made that offer.

“How old is this girl? And what’s up with you and the mother?”

“Kid’s twelve, and nothing’s up with me and Michelle.”

“Is the girl any good? And are you sure the mother wants her to play?”

Troy remembered Michelle’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure money is the problem. And Angie, the daughter, tells me herself that she’s good. According to her, she’s going to be the first female skater in our league.”

Bridget smiled at that, and Troy caught a glimpse of why Mike liked her so much.

“Why don’t you bring her and—Michelle, was it?—to the game on Sunday? Let me talk to them, find out what they need, and I’ll try to think of something.”