Georgeanne shook her head. “I think Lexie needs time to sort everything out in her mind.”
“Do you want me to talk to John? I could tell him how you feel and maybe-”
“No.” She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I don’t want him to know how badly he’s hurt me again.”
“I could hire someone to break his knees.”
Georgeanne paused before she said, “No. We don’t have enough money to hire a professional hit man, and it’s so hard to find good help without ready cash. Look what happened to Tonya Harding. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Ahh… what are friends for?”
“I’ve been through this heartache once before with John. Of course, Lexie wasn’t an issue then, but I’ll get through it again. I don’t know how yet, but I will.” Georgeanne pulled her robe securely around her and frowned. “And then there’s Charles. What am I going to tell him?”
Mae reached for her espresso. “Absolutely nothing,” she answered, then took a sip.
“You think I should lie?”
“No. Just don’t tell him.”
“What do I say if he asks?”
She set her coffee back on the table. “That depends on how much you like him.”
“I really like Charles. I know it doesn’t appear that way, but I do.”
“Then lie.”
Georgeanne shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I feel so guilty. I can’t believe I jumped in bed with John. I didn’t even think about Charles. Maybe I’m one of those women you read about in Cosmo who screw up relationships because deep down I don’t think I’m worthy. Maybe I’m destined to love men who can’t love me back.”
“Maybe you should stop reading Cosmo.”
Georgeanne shook her head. “I’ve made such a mess of things. What am I going to do?”
“You’ll get through it. You’re one of the strongest women I know.” Mae patted Georgeanne’s shoulder. She had a lot of faith in Georgeanne’s strength and determination. She knew that her friend didn’t always see herself as a woman with grit, but then Georgeanne didn’t always view herself in an accurate or objective light. “Hey, did I tell you that Hugh, the goalie, called me while you were in Oregon?”
“John’s friend? Why?”
“He wanted to go out on a date.”
Georgeanne stared at Mae for several incredulous moments. “I thought you made your feelings clear the day you ran into him outside the hospital.”
“I did, but he asked again.”
“Really? That beats all with a stick.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Well, I hope you let him down gently.”
“I did.”
“What did you say?”
“Hell, no.”
Normally Georgeanne and Mae would have debated Mae’s rude rejection. Instead Georgeanne shrugged and said, “Well, I guess you won’t have to worry that he’ll call a second time.”
“He did call a second time, but I think he just wanted to annoy me. He called to ask me if I was still wrestling pit bulls.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I hung up on him, and he’s only called once since then.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s best just to stay away from all hockey players. Best for the both of us.”
“That’s not a problem for me.” Mae thought of telling Georgeanne about her latest boyfriend, but she decided against it. He was married, and Georgeanne tended to moralize about stuff like that. But Mae felt no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband as long as he didn’t have children. She didn’t want marriage. She didn’t want to look at the guy’s face over dinner every night. She didn’t want to do his laundry or birth his babies. She just wanted sex, and married men were perfect. She got to call all the shots and controlled when, where, and how often.
She never told Georgeanne how often she dated married men. Even though Georgeanne apparently had a carnal weakness when it came to John Kowalsky, she could be such a prude sometimes.
Chapter Fifteen
After several hours of grueling drills, coaches and players jammed the ice for a two-puck scrimmage. By day three of training camp, the Chinooks were ready for a little fun. Two of the team’s goalies crouched inside the creases at opposite ends of the rink, alert, waiting for someone to fire a rubber biscuit at their heads.
Raw gutter talk and the steady slur-slur-slur of skates filled John’s ears as he zigzagged down ice. The sleeves of his practice jersey fluttered as he swerved through human traffic. He kept his head up, and the puck sailing close to the blade of his stick. He could feel a rookie third-line defenseman breathing down his neck, and in order to avoid getting knocked into the cheap seats, he shot a high-wrister past Hugh Miner on the short side.
“Eat that, farm boy,” he said as he put his weight on the edges of his skates and stopped abruptly in front of the goal. A fine spray of ice powered Hugh’s pads.
“Blow me, old man,” Hugh grumbled, and reached behind him for the puck. He tossed it toward the other end of the rink, then crouched again and banged his stick on the red posts and cross bar, gaining his bearing without taking his eyes from the scrum.
John laughed and skated back into the free-for-all. When the practice was over, he felt bruised from battle, but happy to be back in the war. Later in the locker room, he handed his skates to a trainer to be sharpened for the next day and took a shower.
“Hey, Kowalsky,” an assistant coach called from the doorway to the locker rooms. “Mr. Duffy wants to see you when you’re dressed. He’s with Coach Nystrom.”
“Thanks, Kenny.” John tied his shoes, then pulled a green T-shirt with a Chinooks logo over his head and tucked it inside his blue nylon sweatpants. His teammates wandered around the room in various stages of undress, talking hockey, contracts, and the new rules the NHL had instated for the coming season.
It wasn’t unusual for Virgil Duffy to ask John to meet him, especially when the team’s general manager was out of state scouting for new talent. John was the captain of the Chinooks. He was a veteran player, and no one knew hockey better than the men who had played it for thirty years. Virgil respected John’s opinion, and John had come to respect the owner’s business acumen, even if at times they didn’t agree. At the moment they were debating a second-line enforcer. Good enforcers didn’t come cheap, and Virgil didn’t always want to pay millions for a limited player.
As John made his way to the front offices, he wondered how Virgil would react when he learned of Lexie’s existence. He didn’t figure the older gentleman would be real pleased, but he didn’t fear being traded anymore. Although he wouldn’t completely rule out the possibility. Virgil tended to be a hot reactor. The longer it took for Virgil to hear of what had transpired seven years ago, the better. John wasn’t purposely keeping Lexie a secret, but he figured there was no need to rub Virgil’s nose in it either.
He thought of Lexie and frowned. Since that morning in Cannon Beach a month and a half ago, Georgeanne had kept Lexie from him. She’d hired a lipstick-wearing pit bull for a lawyer who’d insisted on a paternity test. They’d stalled the test for weeks, then on the day the court-ordered test was to be performed, she’d done an about-face and had signed a document legally acknowledging paternity. With a stroke of Georgeanne’s pen, John was legally declared Lexie’s father.
A home examiner had been appointed to interview John and inspect his houseboat. The same examiner had talked to Georgeanne and Lexie and had recommended several short introduction visitations between father and child before John would be allowed to keep Lexie for longer periods of time. At the end of the introduction period, John would receive the same custody awarded fathers in a divorce situation, only he didn’t even have to appear before a judge. Once Georgeanne had legally acknowledged John as Lexie’s father, everything began to move rapidly.