10. Tables Turned

CHAPTER 10

TABLES TURNED

STEFAN

Francine wasn't kidding when she said I'd be the only fan in the stands for her game. That's why I brought the boys with me. Alex and Gabriel sit beside me, watching as the two teams warm up.

"Who is that?" Gabriel nudges me with his elbow as Francine and one of her teammates are joined by the other team's captain. "The one with Francine? That's who I talked to the day the rink was double booked and I never got her name."

"I don't know, but I bet Francine would introduce you, they appear to be close."

"No. No, she doesn't have to do that." Gabriel stammers, as the three skaters separate and get ready for the start of the game. "At least not yet."

It's a late puck drop, something about the opposing team's captain working a late shift at the nearby after hours clinic. Francine is on the first line for her team, and skates to center ice for the first face off of the second period, quickly winning the puck and shooting it to her right wing before falling back, slowing down and stopping just shy of the blue line. When her teammates get themselves in trouble, Francine skates toward the goal line and doesn't see her opponent coming. They crash into each other, hard. No one is at fault for the hit, but it sends Francine into the boards and down onto the ice.

Alex puts a supportive hand on my shoulder, and Gabriel pats my back, and suddenly I'm really glad they said yes to coming to the game tonight. Suddenly I understand Francine's fear when the roles were reversed, and I was the one injured on the ice.

"I need to go to her," I whisper, trying to figure out the best, quickest way to get to her. "I have to get down there."

"Hold on," Gabriel stops me, "someone is attending to her."

Francine stays down as someone calls time and the skaters back off, giving her space. A defensewoman from the opposing team – the third woman in the group with Francine during pregame – leaps over the boards and onto the ice, shucking her gloves as she does, and skating toward Francine. She assesses Francine and gets her to a sitting position, but when they try to get Francine to her feet, that's when I start to worry. Her right skate doesn't touch the ice. She balances, teetering a bit, on her left skate as her linemate and the opposing defender help guide her off the ice and toward the bench across from where I'm sitting.

"Now's your chance," Alex says, "the ice is clear. Do what you have to."

Some community rinks like this have regulation glass like the pro arenas do. This one doesn't, and while I'm normally in favor of taking as many safety precautions as possible, tonight I'm glad I'm not inhibited as I come off my bench and my feet hit the ice. This would be easier if I had my skates, but I make it across the ice with little effort before coming to the bench. The skaters clear a path for me, giving me access to Francine where she's seated on the bench.

My trek across the ice garners a few whispers from both benches. A few raised eyebrows and curious looks, but once I'm kneeling in front of Francine, all attention leaves us. Francine's linemate, who seems to be in charge of both benches, calls for play to resume as she and I, and the defender from the other team, assist Francine into the locker room.

"Rachel, Malina," Francine gestures to the two skaters, "this is Stefan. Stefan, this is Rachel Winters and Dr. Malina Zee."

"Nice to meet you both," I take as much of Francine's weight as she'll allow, short of fully carrying her into the locker room, "wish the circumstances were different."

Once in the locker room the defender, Malina, helps Francine out of her skates and gear, until she's in just her compression leggings and matching top. Malina gently feels around Francine's knee, manipulating the joint, and as she does my eyes are glued to Francine's face. When Malina attempts to bend Francine's knee back, Francine slams her eyes shut, teeth clenched, and when her leg is extended, just shy of full extension, she bites back a yell.

I've seen this before. If I had to guess…

"I can't give you medical advice," Malina says, her tone serious, "so this is me not telling you that I think you need an MRI."

Francine opens her eyes, meeting my gaze.

"Malina is an orthopedic resident at the medical center downtown," Francine clarifies for my benefit. "What shouldn't I do, Malina?"

Francine closes her eyes, leaning her head against the wall behind her and taking slow, easy breaths.

"Don't go to your ortho as soon as possible," Malina answers with a soft smile. "Don't ask for a referral for an MRI, and definitely don't tell them that you suspect cartilage damage. Also, definitely don't let this guy right here drive you home and get you settled for the night. "

"Thanks for nothing, Malina," Francine smiles, reaching out and patting Malina's hand where it still rests on her injured knee. With her other hand, she reaches for mine, holding it tight. "Will I skate again?"

Will I skate again?

I've asked that question a time or two in my own career.

"If it's what I think it is," I clear my throat, answering a question I wasn't asked and drawing a curious glance from Dr. Zee. "It's an easy fix. You'll be on the ice again in no time."

"Forgive me," Francine offers a pained smile, "but I think I'd like to hear that from the doctor in the room."

"He's right. You're looking at a simple procedure to go into the knee and either repair or remove the damaged cartilage. Depends on the severity of the damage. You'll know more after an MRI."

"Should I take her to an ER?" I ask.

"No," Francine squeezes my hand, "I'll call my orthopedist first thing in the morning, I see him regularly so hopefully he'll be able to get me in or just go ahead and order the test."

"We'll leave you two alone," Rachel leans down and hugs Francine, Malina doing the same. "Stefan, it was nice meeting you. Take care of my girl, okay?"

"I will."

Francine leans down and pulls a pair of shoes from her gear bag, before quickly sitting up, brows pinched as tears threaten at the corners of her eyes.

"Stats," I crouch down in front of her, gently wiping her hair away from her face, and thumbing away the few tears that fall. "You okay?"

"I can't get my shoes on." The frustration in her voice pierces straight to my heart. "I could probably get the left one on, but I can't get the right one. Every movement hurts."

"Let me help you."

Francine blows out a frustrated breath, no doubt biting back a protest, as I carefully slip a shoe onto her right foot and neatly tie the laces. When I'm done with both shoes, I sit back, startled to find tears slowly, silently, streaming down Francine's cheeks.

"Is it the pain?"

"Humiliation more like," she answers, her voice rough with emotion. "I should be able to do that myself."

"There's no should, Stats. There's no shame in being injured, it's a part of hockey. It's a part of life."

"I know better," her voice is watery as she swipes away hot, angry tears. "I skated too hard. Too fast. I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid." I push up from the floor and sit beside her, gathering her in my arms. I've been in her shoes, feeling like I've screwed up. Feeling like I brought my injury upon myself, and beating myself up for it. She doesn't need me to tell her she's not stupid, but I'm going to keep reminding her until she believes it again. "This isn't your fault. And Dr. Zee is right, you need to get home and get settled. Ice and elevation will be really helpful tonight. I hope it's not too forward, but I don't like the thought of you being home alone until we know what's going on. My house is one level, the guest room is really nice, and I'd feel a lot better knowing you're not alone."

"You're lucky I'm in too much pain to argue," Francine lays her head against my shoulder. "I may need you to venture into my apartment and grab me some clothes though."

"I can do that."

Over video chat, from where I left her in the passenger seat of my car, Francine guides me through her bedroom as I put together an overnight bag for her. Pajamas and personal items. Clothes for a couple days just in case, and a blanket from the basket in her living room.

"Anything else you need? Or want?" I ask, standing near the door and looking around the warm and cozy apartment.

"No," she sighs, "I think that's enough."

Before I leave, I grab one of the flannel pillows off of her couch, thinking it will be a good taste of home, but also helpful for propping her up if needed, and drop it into the bag with everything else. There's an e-reader on her end table, and I tuck that into the bag as well before locking up and making my way back to Francine.

"All packed up," I slide in beside Francine after packing her bag into the trunk beside her gear bag. "Do you mind if I make one more stop before we get to my house?"

"Not at all," she covers a yawn with the back of her hand. "As long as you don't mind if I doze off while you drive."

"Of course not."

When I was kid every time I got hurt on the ice my dad would take me for ice cream. It didn't matter what time of year it was, we got ice cream. He said that ice cream made everything better, and I don't know if that was true, but for the most part it did make me feel better. Before heading home, I stop at the first convenience store I find and come out with two pints of ice cream.

"Morrow family tradition," I pass the bag to Francine who smiles as she peeks inside. "You get injured on the ice, you get ice cream."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Stefan." She sniffs back another round of tears, wiping at her cheek with a watery laugh.

"Don't cry, Stats, it's just a little ice cream."

St. Clair Shores is twenty minutes north of Detroit, and nestled along the shore of Lake St. Clair. The lake serves as a border line between Michigan and Canada; the St. Clair River feeds into the lake, and the lake flows into the Detroit river to the south. When I moved here, I was drawn to this community almost immediately, because it reminded me of home. Home is across the lake and down the river a bit, so it didn't hurt that it's pretty close to home, too. A quick commute to the office, and far enough from downtown that it's fairly quiet. A great place to walk Stevie in the morning, and sit outside with her at night, when it's warm, so she can run around.

"When we get inside, Stevie is probably going to be excited to see you. If you think it'll be easier, I can go in first and put her outside…"

"No," Francine stops me, her hand on my arm. "You don't have to do that. I'll be just fine."

"If you're sure."

When we get to the house, I have to stop Francine from attempting to climb down from my SUV herself, and even with the pain in her knee she tries to argue with me. In the end, she lets me guide her to the ground, and take most of her weight as we walk up the driveway to the side door of the house where there are no steps to climb. When I open the door, Stevie looks up from where she's laying in her usual spot on the kitchen floor, ears perking up when she sees Francine, and her tail wagging so fast it makes her body wiggle.

"Be gentle with Francine, Stevie." I help Francine settle on the couch in my living room, propping up her knee, and leaving her just long enough to run back to the car for her bags. When I come back in, I drop Francine's gear bag in the laundry room with mine, and her overnight bag in the guest room. After her bags are dropped off, I return to the living room and find Stevie curled up on Francine's lap, her head laying against Francine's chest.

"I see you two are getting caught up" I crouch down beside my girls, and run a hand through Stevie's coat. The little traitor doesn't acknowledge me, only snuggles closer to Francine. "How are you feeling?"

"The adrenaline is wearing off," Francine offers a pained sigh. "I'm starting to feel the pain a little more now."

"I had a feeling that would happen. Do you want anything for the pain?"

"Yeah, whatever you've got is fine. And I think I'd like to try to get some sleep."

"Not out here," I carefully lift Stevie off of Francine before helping Francine off the couch and down the hall. "I've got a perfectly nice guest room."

Francine steps carefully inside, shutting the door behind her. I stay close, hesitant to leave her alone for too long knowing that she's still in pain and her knee isn't exactly functional. Stevie lays down outside the door, nose pressed against the gap between the floor and the door, waiting for her new friend.

"Take it easy on her, girl," I whisper, sitting on the floor of the hallway, and petting Stevie's silky soft ear. "She's hurt, but she doesn't want to talk about it. And she's in pain, but she won't tell us about it. So take care of her, okay."

"I heard that." The door to the guest room opens, and Francine steps into the hallway wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a Union tee shirt that falls to the hem of her shorts. Her hair, out of the confines of her hockey ponytail, hangs around her shoulders. Stevie stands and shakes, nudging Francine's leg with her snout. "Sorry girl, I can't bend down to pet you."

"That's okay," I stand, carefully picking up a wriggling Stevie, "I can bring Stevie to you."

Francine sinks her fingers into Stevie's coat, closing her eyes and sighing.

"Do you want that ice cream before bed?" I ask softly, and am rewarded with a small – if pained – Francine smile.

"Maybe tomorrow," she answers, "tonight I just want ice for my knee. And maybe a kiss?"

Freeing myself of the dog in my arms – the dog who runs into the guest room and leaps onto the bed the minute her paws hit the floor – I reach for Francine and pull her into my arms, controlling the kiss this time. She leans her weight into my body, surrendering to me and letting me hold her up. With my hands at her waist I lift her up, carrying her into the guest room and depositing her at the edge of the bed. She sighs, breaking the kiss and pressing her forehead against my chest.

"Thank you for tonight," she whispers, her arms wrapping around my waist. "I'm sorry I'm not a better houseguest."

"You're the perfect houseguest," I softly kiss the top of her head. "We're going to get you back to skating form. I'm team Francine. I'm here for whatever you need, starting with ice for that knee."

Ice. Extra pillows. A light blanket.

Helping Francine get situated in bed, I make sure her knee and lower leg are propped up, she's covered with a blanket, and ready for bed.

"Is there anything else you need?" I ask, bending down so we're at eye level.

"A kiss goodnight."

That I can do.