Gulping down the lump in my throat, I wondered if Donnie remembered my history with Beckett. Money does do funny things to people, so do hockey scholarships.
"I'm going to stop him, Donnie."
The weathered skin next to his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, get out there and land that backward stab jump."
My laugh echoed off the high rafters. "Thanks Donnie. It's called a lutz."
"I know.” He winked.
I put on some pump-up music, slipped the phone into the pocket of my jacket and draped it over the boards. For the first couple of strokes, my to-do list looped in my mind. I should call Charlotte, meet with the church ladies, find out the details of the plan.
I skated faster, the yellow and blue stands blurred in my peripheral vision as my to-do list faded away, replaced with the opening guitar riff of Thunderstruck.
Donnie cranked the sound system. With the weight of the morning off my shoulders, suddenly saving the rink, enjoying Christmas, and landing the lutz, all felt possible.
I settled into a rhythm, gliding down the ice at a speed that was slightly uncomfortable. I reached my foot back, but right as my pick dug into the ice, I caught a glimpse of Donnie and three people standing with him.
I knew the second I launched into the air that I wasn't going to make it. The jump was under-rotated and I landed on the side of my blade, the force knocking me onto my ass. The music stopped and I studied the snow on my gloves. I didn't want to look at Donnie.
Or the guy standing beside him. Even at triple-lutz speed, I knew it was Beckett.
5
BECK
I knockedthe snow off my frozen hiking boots and stepped back in time to 2010. A plastic Christmas tree with homemade ornaments, topped with a neon star straight out of the '80s, sat in the same corner it always did. The viewing windows were framed with silver tinsel, held in place with black electrical tape. The same faded photos lined the display case, including the one where my Triple A team won the championship. This place would always hold a piece of my heart, but it was time for something new and better.
At least, that's what I kept telling myself. I had to get the community buy-in, or town council would pull the plug.
"Yoo-hoo. Over here." Mavis stood by the closed canteen. The metal door over the counter was pulled down, but Rob stepped out of the back holding a bag of Cheezies.
"Want some?" He popped one in his mouth and held the bag out to me.
I waved him off. "I'm still recovering from the roast beef and mashed potatoes I had for lunch at the G-Spot."
"The Wednesday special." Mavis elbowed me. "Did you treat yourself to one of their special coffees? She pumped her eyebrows.
"It was hard to say no. That lady is pretty aggressive."
Mavis chuckled. "She doesn't offer it to just anyone off the street. Muriel must remember you."
"She remembered the name, but not the face," I said, rubbing the scruff on my chin. "I guess I don't look eighteen anymore."
"Not a day over twenty-five." Mavis winked. "Did you walk here?"
"It looks like I'll be walking everywhere for the next week or so." After my disastrous run-in with Clara at the café, I'd headed to the garage to check on the airbag replacement for my rental. "They're waiting for a part. I guess one-day delivery hasn't come to Chance Rapids yet."
Which meant I was stuck here.
"There are worse places to be at Christmas." Rob licked the orange dust off his fingertip. "You should check out the Carnival. There's chainsaw carving, axe-throwing, a sweet beer garden…"
"I'll be long gone before any of that." I interrupted. "And this isn't my first rodeo. I've been to my fair share of carnivals."
The beer garden. That was something I hadn't thought about in a long time. One year, Clara and I hid a six-pack in the snowbank and had our first kiss behind the tent while the band played. I pushed the memory into the depth of my body, somewhere I wouldn't feel it.
"They haven't changed a bit." Her eyes lit up and she smacked the arm of my jacket with her hand-knit mitten. "You should stick around and play in the Classic!"
"I'm a little old for that." I tugged the damp wool hat off my head and pointed to the gray hair speckling my dark sideburns.
