CHAPTER 8
Zaki
“ H ockey Lesson 1: Make sure your skates and your equipment are on correctly. Let’s take a look at how not to dress. Isles, you’re up.”
Isla skated out to me at the center of the backyard rink. “Don’t be like me! Always fasten your chin strap.” She nudged the dangling plastic end of it with her glove. “And make sure your laces are tucked in.”
I snapped her strap together and tucked the loops of her laces in. “Great job, kiddo. Amms!”
Daughter number two joined me, sans gloves. “Always wear your gloves and a mouth guard.” I pulled the items from the pocket of my jacket and handed them to her one at a time.
“Um…” Arwyn said from the side of the rink. She wore her long lavender coat and furry scarf. Her hands were stuffed into a large pocket thing she called a muff.
Needless to say, she wasn’t dressed for hockey.
But that was okay. It would probably be easier to watch a game to explain how it worked.
“We’ll work on it.” I handed her a new mouthguard.
Her lips parted to protest. “But I?—”
“You’re not dressed for it. Too bad.” I shook my head sadly. “Skating and shooting pucks are such great ways to shed the week’s frustrations.”
“I can skate,” she said. “And maybe shoot. I have gloves on under this.” She pulled a hand out of the muff. “See?”
I grinned. “Okay then. Hockey Lesson 2: Shooting.”
“But Daddy!” Amelie protested. “You skipped a lot of stuff. And she needs a bucket.”
“A bucket?” Arwyn asked. “You play hockey?”
“Helmet. Sometimes we play.” She shrugged. “It’s not hard. But it has a lot of rules.”
“I’m sure. What are the rules for shooting?”
“Hit the puck and get it in the net.”
“Okay. Got a stick for me to try?”
Isla skated over holding one of my sticks. “It’s too big for you, but you can try it.”
“Okay. Why is it too big?”
“Because you’re short.”
I watched the exchange intently. Arwyn didn’t seem bothered or offended by Isla’s directness.
“This is how you line up a shot.” Amelie had her stick now and seemed comfortable enough taking over for me. “It’s a lot like mini golf, but you need much more power.”
She demonstrated, and her puck sailed straight into the net.
“Woohoo!” Isla cheered, holding her glove up for knuckies. “My turn!”
Her puck followed a similar path to Amelie’s to the net, and the knuckies ritual was repeated.
“Great job, girls,” Arwyn praised. “You make it look easy. All right, right hand low, left hand high, bend, pull back—and whack!”
The elbow of her stick made contact with the puck and slid a few feet toward the goal.
Amelie and Isla looked horrified. I held in a laugh and waited to see what they would say.
“I think I missed something,” Arwyn mused.
“Daddy.” Isla’s tone was rueful. “You have to help her.”
“Yeah,” Amelie agreed. “That was a total hack job.”
Arwyn snorted. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“So bad!” Isla agreed. “But don’t worry, Daddy is the best at shooting, and if anyone can help you, he can.”
“Is that so?” Arwyn regarded me curiously, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I thought Kingston Brewer was the best shooter on the Edge? And Xavier is pretty good, too. Didn’t he win a big award last year?”
“But I have my face on merch bags,” I bragged. “That should say something, no?” I teased back.
“All right, Marshy, work your magic. Instruct me in the ways.”
My heartbeat kicked up. The way Arwyn said that … Instruct me in the ways. I didn’t know her that well, but I had a feeling there were lots of ways I could instruct her in, if given the opportunity.
I needed a moment.
What were we doing?
Right. Hockey.
Shooting.
Okay.
I pushed off on my right skate and joined her at center ice. The girls arranged the pucks along the red line. “Do you mind if I get behind you and, um, guide your swing?”
Her eyes locked on mine. “I’m all yours.”
Whew. Okay.
Did she have any idea how her words could be misinterpreted by a guy?
“All right. I’m gonna place your hands on the stick, then I’m gonna bear-hug you.”
She watched attentively as I placed her hands. When I skated up behind her and reached my arms over hers, she stiffened.
“Relax,” I whispered into her ear. The pompom on her hat tickled my nose. I slid my hands into position over hers.
“I’ll try. It’s a bit … awkward.”
“I promise to get you a better-fitting stick for your next lesson,” I assured her. “You’re perfectly set up for a golf swing, but this is hockey. You need to widen your stance and crouch.”
She adjusted her position to the frame I’d created. “Like this?”
“Just like that. Now pull the stick back, and when you bring it down, try to imagine scooping the puck with the curve of the blade instead of hitting it straight on. You want to guide it, direct it, not see how high and far you can launch it. Not yet, anyway.”
With my hands over hers, I pulled the stick back and swung it down toward the ice. It caught the puck, which sailed straight into the net.
“We did it!” Arwyn hopped up, and I nearly missed getting clocked in the chin by the Tam of Death.
The girls cheered and encouraged her to try it again, on her own.
She was a fast learner and a crack shot. One after the other, she hit the pucks into the net.
“See?” Isla asked. “It’s not hard if you know what you’re doing.”
“Nope,” Arwyn agreed. “Not too different from mini golf, which I am decent at. Or croquet. Bigger target, until you add a goalie, at least.”
“You play croquet?” Amelie asked. “I love that game!”
“Me too!” Arwyn smiled. “We should set up a course after the snow melts.”
“Yes!” the girls chorused.
As I watched the exchange happily, my body tingled from the aftershocks of contact with Arwyn. She sure was one of a kind. And the girls loved her.
I wouldn’t be worried when I left them with her tonight for the road trip.
But I might be a little sad.