Worth the Fall (8 page)

***

“
So let’s see your ring,” Mr. Jukuri said to Petey late on Tuesday afternoon.

“
I don’t have a ring, Mr. J. I wasn’t with the Red Wings when they won the Cup, remember?” Wrong thing to say apparently, as Alison’s father got a confused look on his face and then turned to look out the window of his hospital room.

Petey and Lizzie had spent all morning crafting a press release about his injury, talking on the phone with the Red Wings front office—who
’d been incredibly understanding, even though they’d need to call up an inexperienced defenseman to finish out the season—and working out logistical details of him not returning to Detroit for the foreseeable future.

She
’d brought the baby with her, in one of those carrier things. Petey had to admit it was a cute little thing. He. Sam. Sam was a cute little thing. Being an only child himself, and Lizzie being the first in their close group to have kids, Petey didn’t have a lot of experience with babies. Yeah, sure, his teammates had a bunch of kids, but Petey’d never been one to hang out at a teammate’s home and intrude on family time during the season. They got it so infrequently with the crazy road schedule.

And Sam seemed to have inherited his mother
’s love of plans. Lizzie announced when she’d entered his room that Sam would be awake just long enough for he and Petey to become acquainted and then sleep while they conducted business, and damn if that wasn’t exactly what happened.

But after she left, and before his mother was due to arrive after her day of work as Houghton
’s elementary school’s chief administrative assistant, Petey felt a little stir crazy. Dr. Thompson had said he’d need to get out of bed and move around a bit with the brace and crutches before they’d let him leave tomorrow. So he’d asked a nurse to set up a wheelchair for him a little bit outside his room and then hobbled to it before collapsing into it.

It
’d been a lot harder on him than he’d thought it’d be. He was so drained he didn’t put up any argument when the nurse started wheeling him around. To give him a change of scenery, she’d said. It all looked the same to Petey—depressing as hell—until he thought to ask to be brought to Mr. Jukuri’s room for a visit.

Mr. J had always liked Petey. Had always loved talking hockey with him. And Petey liked talking with Mr. J. because he wasn
’t nearly so obsessive about hockey as his own father was.

But now, looking at the frail man, confused by his own failing memory, Petey wondered if he should have come at all.

“Lots of people do that,” he tried to reassure him. “Assume I won the Cup. But no, I was with the Stars during those years.”

He
’d hated Dallas. The guys had been all right, and the front office had been good to him. But the lack of seasons bugged him. It just didn’t feel right to leave the ice rink and walk out into ninety-degree heat. He’d missed Michigan and was grateful when he’d been traded back to the Wings.

He
’d never even bought a place in Texas, just rented. It’d never felt like home.

“
Yes, that’s right. You were with Dallas during those years. I forgot about that.”

“
Yeah, I’m still trying to,” Petey said with a wink that caused Mr. J to laugh. Ah, good, he was back. Or maybe he’d never left.

“
And will you be able to finish out the season, Pete?” he asked, nodding toward Petey’s knee.

“
Doesn’t look that way.”

“
There’s always next year.”

“
Actually, that does it for me. I’m officially retired. They’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”

“
Oh, that’s a shame. They’ll miss you on the blue line.”

Petey felt a lump form in his throat, and his good-natured aww-shucks comeback died on his lips. Holy shit, this was for real. Lizzie
’s group would take care of the details, but he was going to be bombarded with looks like Mr. Jukuri was giving him right now.

It wasn
’t quite pity—who would pity a hockey star making two mil a year? It wasn’t just compassion. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but suddenly he was grateful he’d be hiding out at Alison’s for the next week and be able to dodge all of it.

Speak of the devil—in she walked. And dressed in red, too. The smile she directed at her father faltered when she saw Petey sitting in the wheelchair next to the older man
’s bed.

“
What are you doing here?” she asked him as she took off her red coat, draped it over a chair, then moved to the other side of her father’s bed and kissed his wrinkled cheek.

“
Stretching my legs,” he answered. Mr. J laughed, but he got a “humph” from Alison. “Doc said I needed to move a little, so I walked with crutches and the brace to the chair.”

“
How’s the pain?”

Like you wouldn
’t believe
. “Manageable.”

She looked closer at him. She started to say something then stopped. Turning to her father, she asked in a much nicer voice than she
’d used with Petey, “And how are you today, Daddy?”

“
Fine, dear, fine.” He gave his daughter a warm smile and Petey noticed the brief look of melancholy that flitted across her face.

That sweet, round, almost angelic face that contorted with near pain as she climaxed beneath him.

“I was just talking hockey with Petey. Sounds like he’s hanging up his skates. But you probably already knew that.”

“
I did, yes.”

“
I guess we all grow old,” he said, then let out a weary sigh. “I’m feeling pretty good today, Alison, are there things we should go over?”

“
Should I leave?” Petey asked and made to move the wheelchair.

“
No, no, you’re fine,” Mr. Jukuri said. It looked like Alison was about to trump her father’s choice when he added, “I’ve enjoyed our chat and would like to talk some more if you have the time.”

Petey could see Alison warring with wanting him out of there—wanting him gone, in general—and her father
’s enjoyment. She finally shrugged, turned around and pulled the guest chair up to the side of the bed and sat down.

“
I’ve got nowhere better to go,” Petey said and made a show of reclining a little and putting his hands behind his head. Shit…even that hurt.

“
Sherry’s coming in tomorrow. I’m going to pick her up at the airport and bring her to the house to see Mom. Then she’ll have your car to come see you tomorrow evening.”

“
Oh, that’s wonderful. Is she bringing the babies?”

Petey watched Alison open then shut her mouth, a sadness coming to her face, which she quickly tried to hide. Al
’s sisters were much older and had grown kids of their own. “No, Dad, the babies are grown up. Jake got married two years ago. And Taylor just graduated from college last spring. They’re both out east, like Sherry.”

Charles Jukuri looked at his daughter with concentration, then looked over to the wall where someone—it had to have been Al, right?—had blown up a family photo of the Jukuri clan from whenever they
’d last been together.

The photo looked to be a few years old, with Mr. Jukuri looking much healthier than he did now. It
’d been taking in the summertime on the front lawn of what had been the old Jukuri cabin. Alison had taken it over about ten years ago and slowly refurbished the whole thing. It was on the small side, but it was cozy and on the lake.

And had no stairs.

“Yes, that’s right. Sherry sent us video of Taylor’s graduation from Rutgers.”

“
Yes, yes she did,” Alison answered her father with near glee in her voice at her father’s memory of something that happened less than a year ago.

And suddenly, sitting in a wheelchair with only a few months before he was whole again—even though he would be out of work—Petey felt like a total shit for the feelings of self-pity he
’d been having since waking up after surgery.

“
Anyway,” she went on kind of quickly, as if trying to cram things in during this lucid moment. “Sherry’s able to stay for a whole month with Mom.”

“
That will be a nice break for you, Alison. You’ve done so much.”

Had she? He
’d had a sense of things going downhill with her parents when he was home last summer, but hadn’t really digested how much. Or how bad.

She waved her father
’s statement away with a flick of her little hand. “It looks like we’ll be able to get Mom moved into the Ridges during the time that Sherry’s here. In the type of apartment we all talked about. Do you remember that?”

He nodded.
“And when will I be able to join her there?” There was a fear in his voice, like maybe she’d tell him he wouldn’t be able to join his wife in the assisted-living facility.

“
Soon, we hope. In fact, Dr. Simms mentioned that your infection seemed to be responding to the meds better than he hoped. You might even beat Mom to your new place.”

“
And the house? You’ll sell the house?”

She looked down at her lap, seeming to gather her thoughts. Petey was both riveted to the family scene and embarrassed that he hadn
’t left. He hadn’t realized these were the types of things Mr. Jukuri would want to discuss because he was having a good moment.

God, this could so easily be him in only twenty or thirty years, with as many concussions as he
’d had on the ice and the links they were making between NFL players with several concussions and early-onset dementia. He’d thought about it. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to retire after this season. But holy shit, the thought of his children having to remind him of important things like Alison was doing now?

Assuming he ever had children.

He started to have a mini flash of panic, so he tried to zero in on what Alison was saying so he wouldn’t think about himself.

“
That’s what you both wanted when it got to this point. But we don’t have to, I can—”

“
Yes. Sell the house. I remember the plans your mother and I made. We don’t want to be a burden on you, Alison. And we want to be together if possible. They were sound plans then, no reason to change them now.” He gave Alison a questioning look. “Is there?”

The man was looking for hope. Looking for Alison to tell him the situation was so much better than they
’d planned for.

She ducked her head, her short hair falling like a curtain over her eyes, only her chin visible. Then she looked at her father straight on and said,
“No. There’s no reason to change the plans you and Mom made.”

She had balls and didn
’t hide. Never had. It was a quality that he both admired and was irritated by, depending on the day.

They talked some more about lesser things, then she gathered up her things, kissed her father goodbye, and said she
’d be back that evening to see him again.

Jesus, she was making two trips a day to see him, plus her mother, plus her patient load? He couldn
’t remember if Lizzie’d mentioned if Alison was still teaching at Tech or not. Probably not with all she had going on.

Again, sitting in a wheelchair for a couple of days and lying around in bed for a few weeks was starting to seem pretty good.

After Alison left, he chatted hockey with her dad for a little while longer and, when it was getting close to the time his mother was expected to show, he started to say his goodbyes. As he maneuvered the wheelchair past the bed, Mr. Jukuri reached out to stop him. He leaned over and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “I’ve seen how you look at her, you know.”

Fuck. For years he
’d masked how he looked at Alison, had practically made a science of it, only to have her father call him on it now?

“
Don’t worry, she can’t tell.”
Thank God.
“But I can.”
Oh, shit
.

Was it polite to burn rubber out of an old man
’s hospital room? “Listen, Mr. J, I think you’ve got it—”

“
I’m telling you, Jimmy, Sally’s the type of girl you just have to take charge with.”

Oh. Okay. So, was this better or worse? And how was he supposed to respond? And did Mr. J. really know
“
Sally
”? She would eat alive any man who tried to control her.

“
Um, yeah, I know, but….”

Mr. Jukuri took his hand from Petey
’s arm and waved it with more strength than he’d have guessed the old man had.

“
See what I mean? ‘Um, yeah.’ That’s not the type of thing that’s going to get her. She needs somebody just as strong as she is, someone who will peel off that armor she’s built around herself.” He pointed a bony finger at Petey. “I’m telling you, Jimmy, Sally is not the type of girl you steal kisses from.”