16. Moral Support

CHAPTER 16

MORAL SUPPORT

STEFAN

I've had a few hockey injuries in my time. Surgeries and rehab. And that pain is intense, but what might be worse is sitting here now, watching Francine and knowing that there's nothing I can do to help her. She's across the room standing between a set of parallel bars, a resistance band looped around her thigh and one leg of the bars. She's on her fourth set of exercises with the band and her face is pinched and drawn. She's in pain, but won't say anything.

Her therapist moves her to a table, and she limps as she crosses the room. I want to go to her. To steady her. Hold her up. But I can't. This is part of the process. She's three weeks post-op, and after this we're on our way downstairs and across the parking lot to see her surgeon. Francine's goal is to get back on the ice. We don't know yet when, or if, that will happen, so hopefully today she gets some answers.

"Morning Stefan," Walter greets me as he sits down in the open chair beside me. I watch as Gladys makes her way to an open bike and gets situated for her warmup. "Good game last night."

"Thanks Walter." The Union snapped a seven game losing streak last night by shutting out our rivals from Colorado. "Felt good to win. Felt especially good to beat the Mountaineers."

"And you added another power play goal to your stat line, I bet our girl Franny was proud."

Heat flames in my cheeks.

Yeah. She was proud. We celebrated the win in our own way when I got home after the game.

"Season's coming down to the wire."

"Yeah," I sigh. We're right on the wild card bubble and getting to the point where we have to rely on our own wins in combination with other teams losing in order to move up and secure a spot as wildcards or divisional winners. "And we're facing Pittsburgh this weekend."

"On the road, too," Walter says with a smile. "I like our chances."

I'm glad someone does.

Pittsburgh is a tough opponent and they're coming in on the same bubble we are. This game is the definition of a must win. For both teams.

"AH!" Francine's cry carries across the gym and I turn to find her face down on an exam table attempting to bend her surgical knee back. She breathes heavily, hanging her head and gently lowering her leg back to the table.

"It's part of the process," Walter says, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder. "It's the worst part of the process when you're on this side of it."

"I really hate seeing her in pain."

"I know what you mean. I used to stay down in the waiting room when Gladys first started because I couldn't stand seeing her in pain. It doesn't get easier, but they ," he points across the room to where Gladys has come alongside Francine, holding Francine's hand with one hand, and wiping her forehead with a towel she has clutched in the other, "start to heal, and their sessions get easier."

"You promise?" There's more emotion in my voice than I realized, and moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes.

"You'll be just fine, son. And so will she."

When Francine's session is over, she drops slowly into the empty seat beside me and sighs when an assistant drapes an ice pack over her knee. Gladys is still across the clinic on a set of stairs, behind in her session after taking a break to sit with Francine. She catches my eye and smiles, throwing me a wink as she does, and some small part of me feels like I'm being welcomed to a club of some kind. Let in on something not everyone gets to see.

"Thanks for keeping me company Walter," I shake the man's hand as Francine and I get ready to leave. "I'll be on the road for her next session so keep an eye on her for me?"

"Gladys and I will take good care of her. You better take good care of Pittsburgh this weekend."

"I'll try my best," I answer with a laugh.

"You better!" Gladys calls across the gym, narrowing her eyes and making an I'm watching you gesture.

"She's all bark," Walter stage-whispers, a fond look on his face. "See you again soon."

Francine and I walk slowly across the parking lot to her surgeon's office, finding ourselves in a crowded waiting room, surrounded by people of all ages with various casts and braces and walking aids. Francine has been off her crutches since her second week post-op, and was able to remove her dressings after two days. I'm hopeful going into the appointment with Francine's surgeon, but she's tempering her expectations. More than anything, she just wants to get back on the ice.

"What if he says I can't skate again?" She asks, a slight shake in her voice.

Twining my fingers with hers, I take her hand and hold it tight.

I don't know how to answer her question. I would be devastated if I couldn't. Francine loves hockey. She loves her league and her team and her teammates, and I don't want to think about what the future looks like for Francine if she can't play again. She faced this possibility before and came back stronger, and I have to believe that she'll do it again.

"Francine?" A medical assistant calls from across the waiting room and Francine turns to me, an unspoken question in her eyes. I stand, and walk with her to the exam room.

Twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks post-op and she can start running drills on the ice again.

It was the first thing Francine asked when the surgeon walked in the room. He had her lay back on an exam table to check her strength and range of motion, and seemed impressed with the way her incisions are healing.

"You're three weeks out from surgery," Dr. Kahlid sits across from Francine on his rolling stool, "from what I've seen today I feel confident that you will skate again. Keep up with your therapy. Come see me again in another four weeks and we'll re-evaluate. Any other questions?"

"That was my most pressing question," Francine answers with a small laugh, her shoulders lowering the slightest bit. "That puts me out for the rest of the season, but gives me lots of time to get back into playing form."

"Keep the contact low your first few games out," Dr. Kahlid remarks as he makes a few notes in her chart. "You should be fine."

"I'll try," Francine answers with a laugh that leaves me shaking my head as she mutters under her breath, "no promises."

After leaving the surgeon's office, we make a quick stop at Donut Worry before heading back home where I pack my bags for the Pittsburgh trip, and get ready to head to the training facility for a workout with the team. After the appointment this morning, I feel more comfortable leaving Francine to go on the road; I know she's in good hands with Rachel here, but she's also able to get around on her own now too. Even knowing that? I hate leaving her.

"I'll be fine," her hands are pressed against my chest as I lean against my front door, my hands gripping her hips. "Rachel will check in on me. Gladys and Walter, too. And my parents are home now, so they're nearby. Stefan, I'm going to be fine."

"If you say so."

"Stefan. I don't want you worrying about me. I want you worrying about Pittsburgh and the game on Saturday."

"Easier said than done."

"I know." Francine softly kisses my lips. Once. Twice. A third time.

"Stop making it harder for me to walk out this door."

"Sorry." She offers a cheeky smile and I squeeze her hips in response. I really do have to get moving. "I'll be here when you get back."

We make quick work of Pittsburgh, and then we're on the plane back to Detroit. Alex and Gabriel sat themselves on either side of me and much as I try to ignore them, they pepper me with questions for the whole plane ride.

"How's Francine?"

"What's next?"

"Are you bringing her to Union Day at the Mustangs game?"

"Would you two shut up and let me sleep?" I ask, closing my eyes and leaning back in my seat. "It's been a long few days, we just beat the Miners and are looking at a potential playoff run. Leave me alone for a few hours. Please."

Peace and quiet lasts for about five minutes before Gabriel and Alex are talking over me again.

"Francine is fine. Physical therapy is harder for me than it is for her. What's next? I don't know. We haven't talked about it, but I hope there's something in the cards for us. I'm planning to talk to her about it when I get home. I will also be asking her about Union Day. Now please leave me alone."

"Yeah Alexander," Gabriel laughs. "Leave him alone."

I don't sleep. I'm not surprised. Once the plane lands, I leave my idiot friends behind me and drive home as quickly as I can. I find Francine in the backyard tossing a ball to Stevie. She stops when she sees me, and I meet her in the middle of my backyard, sweeping her into a kiss.

"Hi," she laughs, breaking the kiss as Stevie runs around our feet. "How's it going?"

"Good. We beat the miners. How've you been?"

"Good. I uh…got a job offer while you were gone."

"Oh." My heart sinks to my feet. I know she's been hoping for a call from USA Hockey. I don't want to lose her, but I also know that she's made for so much more than what she's been doing here in Detroit. "What's the offer?"

"The professional women's league is expanding. I've been asked to be a part of the front office of a new team."

"Where?" I whisper, holding her closer, afraid to let go.

"Detroit."

"Stats!" I lift her into my arms and crush my lips to hers. "That's incredible! Congratulations. This calls for celebration."

"Donuts?"

"Donuts."