{"id":181,"date":"2016-09-04T15:29:22","date_gmt":"2016-09-04T19:29:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.herbheineman.com\/?page_id=181"},"modified":"2024-07-25T16:30:47","modified_gmt":"2024-07-25T20:30:47","slug":"chapter-13","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/edensgarden\/chapter-13\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 13: Hockey"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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PART II<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Within less than two weeks the opportunity for a date fell right into Josh\u2019s lap. The American all-stars were playing the Russian ice-hockey team and Max had a pair of tickets he couldn\u2019t use.<\/p>

Josh\u2019s jaw dropped. \u201cHow about it, Debbie?\u201d he asked reflexively.<\/p>

\u201cWednesday is band practice,\u201d Debbie said. \u201cTry Edie. I bet she\u2019s never been to a game.\u201d<\/p>

Josh made a pretense of considering before he called Eden. \u201cIce hockey?\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ve never been to a game.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cBut you skate.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s a lot different from figure skating, but yes, I\u2019d love to go.\u201d<\/p>

At exactly seven on Wednesday Josh rang the doorbell. Eden was waiting. \u201cI\u2019m ready.\u201d<\/p>

Josh ushered her into the waiting car. \u201cFree rental. Goes with the tickets.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cSo much traffic,\u201d Eden said, as they entered the expressway. \u201cWhere\u2019s everyone going?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cSame place we are, I bet.\u201d<\/p>

She turned to him in disbelief. \u201cYou\u2019re kidding.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m not. This is a big game.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI feel privileged,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s nice of you to ask me.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI feel privileged too.\u201d It came out before he could ask himself if it was safe. Luckily the traffic kept moving, and half an hour later he parked on Pattison Avenue, far enough from the arena that it took all but five minutes of the remaining time to claim their seats. They passed the parking lot, where a dozen attendants with fistfuls of money were directing patrons.<\/p>

\u201cPeople spend good money so they don\u2019t have to walk, but you should see this place after the game. Gives new meaning to the term \u2018gridlock.\u2019 \u201d<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t mind walking. Especially when the moon\u2019s out.\u201d She looked at him and grinned.<\/p>

It was almost a new moon. \u201cQuite a change since last time, isn\u2019t it?\u201d Josh said.<\/p>

\u201cYes, but I like it this way too. I can even see the outline of the dark side.\u201d<\/p>

They entered and found their seats. Although the game had not started, there was action on the ice. Russians in red and Americans in blue were circling casually at opposite ends of the rink. To Eden it seemed they were merely strolling on ice, occasionally lengthening their stride as if testing their ability to accelerate. There was a detached air about them which disturbed her. Something was missing. Here was fluid motion with no consciousness of its fluidity, grace without any expression of joy. They simply skated to get from one place to another! Strange, never to have thought of skating as a way to get around.<\/p>

Suddenly there were pucks on the ice. Now the men were pushing the little black disks with their sticks, flicking them across the ice to other players who dribbled them farther before taking a shot at the goal. There was no serious attempt at defense; the players were simply warming up. The goaltenders, with their huge pads and oversize sticks, blocked most shots. Then the players took turns advancing on the goal. A few skillfully placed shots found the net and Eden noticed that the goaltender could be maneuvered out of position by a zigzag approach. Maybe there was more to this sport than a poor substitute for figure skating.<\/p>

All players now left the ice except the goaltenders and five others on each side. Those remaining lined up facing each other and removed their helmets for the national anthems. When the audience was seated again, the referee approached the center spot and dropped the puck. Right away the Russian center scooped it back to a teammate, who advanced toward the center and passed it across the centerline. A second later he was hit by an American and sent crashing to the ice. By this time, however, a force of three Russians was advancing into the American half. As the puck slid across the blue line, the Russian right wing came in from the boards, stepped in front of a defender, and passed to a teammate who had broken free. No sooner had he sent the puck on its way than he too was knocked down. By this time all players except the Russian goaltender were in the American half. Again a Russian was knocked down after dispatching the puck, and still the visitors controlled the game. The crowd was silent.<\/p>

Now the Russian center passed back to a teammate standing at the left point, just inside the blue line. Anticipating the body check that followed, he stepped to his right just as a blue-clad body went hurtling past. Unable to stop himself, the American lost his balance and fell.<\/p>

Eden was on her feet applauding the victory of finesse over brawn. Josh, though in complete sympathy, smelled danger and pulled her back down. Too late. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter with you, girl?\u201d came an angry voice from two rows back. \u201cWhose side\u2019re you on?\u201d<\/p>

Eden was about to answer her accuser, but Josh cautioned her. Puzzled, she turned to him. \u201cWhat did I do wrong?\u201d His answer was cut off by a roar from the crowd, half of whom were on their feet. The American goaltender was prone on the ice. As he handed the puck to the referee, it was evident that he had blocked a shot. For now the Americans were safe.<\/p>

It was not to last. Unable to make up with force for the Russians\u2019 agility and team play, and short-handed because of a penalty, the Americans gave up a goal two minutes before the end of the period. Their goaltender had stopped twenty-eight shots before being beaten; his Russian counterpart had never been challenged.<\/p>

The second period provided the kind of hockey that brought a certain class of fans to their feet. Restraint and discipline had stood the Russians in good stead for thirty minutes of play. However, some of them were in no mood to submit to thirty more minutes of bullying by a team that behaved like football players on skates. When their left wing was elbowed in the abdomen, he backhanded the aggressor across the face. The American, more surprised than hurt, dropped his stick, then his gloves, and lit into the Russian with both fists. A Russian skating to his teammate\u2019s assistance was waylaid by another American, and two fights were in progress. The other six players recognized the futility of further inaction. As if by common consent, each picked an opposing partner and began swinging. Only the goaltenders remained out of the fray, leaning on their goals, roughing up the creases, waiting with studied boredom.<\/p>

Three officials couldn\u2019t break up five fights, so they waited for the storm to subside.<\/p>

\u201cPenalties coming up,\u201d said Josh.<\/p>

\u201cIs everyone going to be sent off?\u201d Eden asked.<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t think the goalies alone would make much of a game,\u201d Josh said, laughing. \u201cThe first pair will go off for sure. I don\u2019t know about the rest.\u201d<\/p>

The referee issued his verdict: Five minutes for the pair who started it, two minutes for the second. While gloves, sticks, and assorted trash contributed by the audience were being cleared from the ice, Eden asked, \u201cIs it always like this?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNot this bad. But for a couple of guys to fight, that happens all the time.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhy do they do it?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWish I knew. I think it\u2019s tradition. The fans seem to expect it.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThey obviously enjoy it, the way they yell and clap. It\u2019s a shame. I think I could really get to like hockey, especially\u201d in a loud whisper \u201cthe way the Russians play.\u201d<\/p>

A quick hand on her arm. \u201cHush! This is war, not art.\u201d<\/p>

She turned to him, neck outstretched. \u201cSorry.\u201d Self-consciously he withdrew his hand.<\/p>

Play resumed. With both sides two men short, passes were longer, skating faster, and bodily contact less frequent. The sides seemed more evenly matched. The Americans came close to scoring when a shot from the right point struck the post on the side away from the goaltender. As it ricocheted, straight onto the blade of a Russian stick, a counterattack developed that ended with two Russians passing the puck back and forth in the American zone and only one defender close enough to interfere. The goaltender didn\u2019t have a chance.<\/p>

The period ended without further scoring or penalties. During the second intermission Josh stopped for a moment at a concession stand, weighing chivalry against thrift.<\/p>

\u201cThese prices are outrageous,\u201d he said to Eden, \u201cI hope you won\u2019t think I\u2019m stingy, but I can\u2019t see paying that kind of money. We can do much better someplace else after the game.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYou\u2019re not being stingy. You\u2019re being sensible. I wouldn\u2019t spend money here either.\u201d<\/p>

The answer pleased him. It meant one less cause of anxiety on future dates.<\/p>

\u201cDo you have permission to stay out after the game?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019ll call home,\u201d she answered. \u201cI don\u2019t think they\u2019ll give me a hard time. They know you too well. But just to be sure, I\u2019ll tell them you were concerned that I shouldn\u2019t get into trouble. They\u2019ll like that.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cMy dad would call it the \u2018gentlemanly thing.\u2019 He\u2019s big on respecting others. Any age.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAnd sex?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhat about sex?\u201d He was sure he was blushing and sure that she noticed.<\/p>

\u201cI mean, does he believe in respecting people of both sexes?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cOf course! That\u2019s where the \u2018gentlemanly\u2019 comes in.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThen I\u2019ll do the \u2018ladylike\u2019 thing. I\u2019ll pretend to hesitate, then I\u2019ll agree. How\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>

They found a pay phone that the caller was just hanging up. \u201cDad said he was too tired to chaperone, but he was joking. What he really meant was it\u2019s OK.\u201d<\/p>

Josh\u2019s hand automatically reached for her arm, but his brain caught it just in time to bring it back to his side. She noticed the interrupted movement and looked at him thoughtfully.<\/p>

The last period began as an anticlimax to the second. Evidently the ice-clearing m\u00eal\u00e9e had been discussed in the locker rooms. The Americans became strikingly temperate in their use of body checks; the Russians, meeting them half way, played a more physical game, to the detriment of their artistry. For fifteen minutes there were no penalties. The game no longer excited the crowd. Five minutes to go. Few saw any hope of erasing a two-goal deficit.<\/p>

Josh did feel some loyalty to the American team, but he was resigned. Some fans, equally realistic, were leaving early to beat the rush. It was an unfortunate decision, for a remarkable event occurred behind the Russian goal. An American player, puck at his feet, was pinned against the board by a Russian. Trying to break free, he lost his balance and fell. It would never be known whether the fall was staged, but as the referee\u2019s hand went up for a tripping call, a fan gleefully punched his neighbor on the shoulder. \u201cD\u2019ya ever see a better fake?\u201d<\/p>

For only the second time, the Americans had a one-man advantage. The other time they had barely managed a shot on goal. Now, buoyed by the hope of yet avoiding a shutout in their own country, they played like a team inspired. They outmaneuvered the Russians and scored thirty seconds into the penalty. Now even the skeptics were on their feet.\u00a0 Patriotism was rediscovered. \u201cU-S-A, show \u2019em the way! Reds, Reds, back to your beds!\u201d<\/p>

The crowd never sat again. As play resumed, with the teams at equal strength, the chant continued with rhythmic handclaps. Josh and Eden were caught up in the home-team fervor.<\/p>

One minute left. \u201cWhy\u2019s the goaltender being sent off?\u201d Eden asked, suddenly alarmed.<\/p>

\u201cHe\u2019s not being sent off.\u00a0 He\u2019s being pulled<\/em>. They\u2019re putting in another forward. They\u2019ve got nothing to lose.\u201d<\/p>

The Americans, finding skills they didn\u2019t know they had, were now beating the Russians at their own game. Suddenly, an American coming down the right wing drew the goaltender to his left, and a cross-ice pass presented the receiver with an open net. However, a Russian was on him before he could shoot, and the puck slid free. As the American recovered it, the goaltender reversed direction to cover the near corner of the goal, and fell. The American let fly at the corner to his left. The goaltender was in no position to defend his goal. His eyes were on the rafters. He had hit the ice so hard that his foot kicked up and he felt the impact as it hit the crossbar. As far as he was concerned, the game was over.<\/p>

Utter silence. The goaltender didn\u2019t understand. He expected cheers from the partisan crowd as the Americans pulled a tie out of certain defeat; he heard only his own breathing. Later he discovered what had happened. His foot had not hit the crossbar but the puck traveling inches below it. A Russian defender fell on it as it rebounded and the game was over.<\/p>

The Russian victory had been preserved, and the crowd was at a loss for expression. They had nothing to cheer about, but the rare show of skill and luck silenced even the worst losers.<\/p>

The Russians didn\u2019t hoist their sticks in the time-honored symbol of victory. They didn\u2019t need to be reminded how lucky they were. While their goaltender stood with his arms spread, their captain skated to his counterpart and extended his hand. The American hesitated a mere second before the two embraced. Now the crowd burst into applause. Eden\u2019s eyes were moist.<\/p>

\u201cIt\u2019s only a sport,\u201d Josh tried to console her, \u201ceven if some people like to politicize it.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m not crying over losing, you dummy,\u201d Eden said, laughing through her tears. \u201cIt\u2019s the cheering and the hugging after all that fighting. It\u2019s wonderful they\u2019re being such good sports. Oh, don\u2019t mind me. I\u2019m not used to this, especially the way they behaved at the beginning.\u201d<\/p>

As he looked at her embarrassed expression, he fought back his own tears. He didn\u2019t want to be caught crying, especially not knowing what he was crying about.<\/p>

They walked past the crowd outside, noticing the congestion in the parking lot that Josh had predicted, and got back into the car. \u201cNow where to for our after-game treat?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIf center city isn\u2019t too far out of the way, we can go to the Deli Belly. Mom goes there with her friend from the office. Maybe if I tell them who I am, we\u2019ll get special treatment.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThey probably have different staff at night. But you deserve special treatment anyway.\u201d<\/p>

Immediately he wanted to recall his words. But she went him one better. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t if I were alone, but I\u2019m with a gentleman, and that does make a difference.\u201d<\/p>

Again his hand was about to escape from cerebral control, and again he caught it at the last moment. He was thankful for the darkness.<\/p>

\u201cI had a wonderful time, Josh. Thank you for asking me.\u201d<\/p>

Josh took the gamble. Placing his right hand, with his brain\u2019s permission, on her left arm, he said: \u201cSo did I. In fact, I don\u2019t think I ever enjoyed a game so much.\u201d<\/p>

She didn\u2019t pull away. If only the ignition weren\u2019t to the right of the steering column! He thought about reaching across with his left hand, but there was no graceful way.<\/p>

\u201cWhat\u2019s funny?\u201d Eden asked.<\/p>

\u201cOh, nothing. Something stupid I just remembered.\u201d<\/p>

They parked a block away from the deli, walked past it, and retraced their steps till they stood in front of its unpretentious door. To their surprise, half the tables were occupied.<\/p>

\u201cSee? They didn\u2019t all go to the Spectrum!\u201d Eden said.<\/p>

\u201cI can\u2019t imagine why not. Wherever they went can\u2019t have been half as good.\u201d<\/p>

Both ordered cherry pie and tea. \u201cYou know,\u201d Eden began, \u201cwhen they were warming up, I was sort of disappointed. I didn\u2019t dare tell you, because you might be sorry you took me. But once the game started, I really enjoyed it.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWhat didn\u2019t you like at first?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWell, they seemed so \u2015 bored, you know? Just skating around. At the rink, people also skate around in circles, but you can tell they\u2019re having a good time \u2015 even the ones who keep falling down. It took me a while to realize you can\u2019t compare hockey with figure skating. Those guys are chasing a puck. Instead of running, they skate. That\u2019s it. Right?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAn interesting analysis. Shows how differently people see the same thing, depending on where they\u2019re coming from. For me, hockey\u2019s a variation on soccer, chasing an object and trying to get it into the goal. You come from figure skating, which is all about graceful motion\u00a0\u2014 like dancing. I thought you\u2019d like it because you like skating. I never thought that could be a reason for not<\/em> liking it. I\u2019m glad I didn\u2019t, or we wouldn\u2019t be sitting here now.\u201d<\/p>

Eden felt as if she had deceived him. \u201cMaybe it would have been better for you to have someone along who appreciated the game more.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cEdie,\u201d he said, \u201cI can\u2019t think of anyone who\u2019d have been better company than you.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cAre you serious?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cYes, I\u2019m serious. Here\u2019s the food. I hope you don\u2019t mind if I talk with my mouth full.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cDebbie\u2019d go crazy. You two are pretty funny together.\u201d<\/p>

Josh smiled. They each took a drink, stuffed pie into their mouths, and resumed talking.<\/p>

\u201cWhere was I?\u201d Josh said. \u201cOh yes. Watching you change from a skeptic to something approaching a fan. I enjoyed that, and I didn\u2019t have to lift a finger, except to keep you from getting in trouble with those roughnecks. They tank up before the game, and what little self-control they start with goes out the window. I\u2019ve seen fights break out among the spectators<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cOh gosh, yes. When that guy yelled at me, like whose side I was on, I really got the shivers. I don\u2019t think it would have taken much to make him swing at me.\u201d<\/p>

Josh raised his eyebrows and answered seriously, \u201cThat could have happened. Lucky you\u2019re a girl. That was probably the only thing that stopped him.\u201d<\/p>

She looked up coyly over the brim of her cup, and asked, \u201cSuppose he had come at me?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019d be sitting here with a black eye or two. I wouldn\u2019t have let him touch you.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNot \u2018the gentlemanly thing to do,\u2019 is it?\u201d They both laughed.<\/p>

\u201cYou\u2019re fun to be with,\u201d he said after a while, looking down into his tea. \u201cYou know, all these years you\u2019ve been coming to our house, playing or working with Debbie, I only thought of you as her friend. It never occurred to me that we \u2015 you and I \u2015 could be friends too.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI hope I always will be her friend. But I can be friends with you as well.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI don\u2019t mean that way. What I mean is, I never thought of you as\u00a0\u2014 you know\u00a0\u2014 a person<\/em>, separate from Debbie. No! Wait\u2014\u201d She was laughing. He blushed.<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t laugh. You took me out, and I\u2019m being ungrateful.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cNo, I left myself open. What I mean is, something\u2019s come over me. I\u2019m even beginning to take Debbie seriously. You might not guess that from the way we acted up, but it\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>

Eden saw that he was embarrassed. Her look conveyed interest and sympathy. \u201cIs this a matter of growing up? Or did you have a conversation with someone that made you think?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019d like to tell you, but it\u2019s getting late. We\u2019re going to be kicked out of here soon. Let me take you home. If you still feel like talking, we can do it another time. May I call you?\u201d<\/p>

Eden looked into his eyes steadily for a couple of seconds. \u201cI\u2019d like that,\u201d she said softly.<\/p>

They went out. Without thinking, she slipped her hand into his as they walked to the car. Neither spoke a word during the drive. He walked her up to her door. \u201cHere we are,\u201d he announced lightly to Karen. \u201cA successful evening. I think your daughter\u2019s become a fan.\u201d Even as he said these words, he was savoring their ambiguity.<\/p>

\u201cI\u2019d ask you in, Josh, except it\u2019s so late. Thanks again for taking her.\u201d<\/p>

~~~~~~~~~~<\/p>

Eden went to her room. Her most pressing need right then was privacy to sort out her thoughts. She would have preferred darkness, but her mother had a tendency to ask questions if light didn\u2019t show under the door. So she lay down with her eyes closed.<\/p>

In all the years she had known Josh, the question of defining their relationship had never arisen. Had she been asked two weeks ago, she\u2019d have said something like friendly cousins. As an afterthought, she might have wished for a brother like him. Debbie and he obviously enjoyed one another. But having liked him all along only highlighted her confusion. An evening with a very familiar person had left her with a very unfamiliar feeling. She needed to understand that change before being alone with him again, as she felt sure she would. Of course, it was a date, that was the difference. All other encounters had been incidental to Debbie\u2019s company. She almost laughed aloud, . . . \u201ca person, separate from Debbie.\u201d How aptly those words applied to him too! She\u2019d never thought of him separate from Debbie either. Tonight she\u2019d met him as a person<\/em>. She really must apologize again for laughing.<\/p>

She thought of other boys she had met at parties or summer camp, and how she had felt after a few minutes alone with any of them. They had been irritating, pathetically amusing, or boring, sometimes all three. She knew she was not pretty, and their advances seemed to her nothing more than exercises in male posturing. She had brushed them aside, with her hands if necessary. She couldn\u2019t remember having an interesting conversation with a single one.<\/p>

Josh had turned out refreshingly different. In fairness, she tried not to judge him and her classmates by the same standards. He was, after all, two years older than they. Besides, her expectations from this date had been different, for Josh had asked her only because Debbie was tied up. What she expected was a pleasant outing at which she would be initiated into ice hockey. And learn about hockey she did, for Josh had proved a knowledgeable and willing teacher. What she had not expected was to find the experience of Josh\u2019s company so affecting.<\/p>

She reviewed the events of the evening. The game had afforded her a wealth of pleasant surprises. Once she had disposed of her initial disappointment, she had been caught up in the communal excitement over the competition. All the details \u2015 the rules of the game, the artistry and the roughness, the behavior of the spectators, the hostilities forgiven in the end \u2015 all were now pleasant memories. If that had been all, she would have been well satisfied.<\/p>

But there was something else. It had begun in the car, for she had been conscious \u2015 most pleasantly conscious \u2015 of his hand on her arm. Then tea and cherry pie, and conversation.<\/p>

I can\u2019t think of anyone who\u2019d have been better company than you. . . . You\u2019re fun to be with<\/em>. She didn\u2019t think he\u2019d say such things just because they were right for the occasion. Then he\u2019d dangled before her that reference to a personal transformation. Something\u2019s come over me. . . . I\u2019d like to tell you <\/em>. . . . That was intimate stuff. Why would he trust her with it? And bringing it up just as they finished at the deli, leaving it in the air\u00a0\u2014 was that deliberate? Was he setting her up for another date? If so, she was ready.<\/p>

She brought herself up short. Her head was spinning. My goodness, from family friend to \u00a0\u2015 to what? All in one evening. She took a deep breath and willed herself to be rational.<\/p>

~~~~~~~~~~<\/p>

Josh had the advantage of solitude after leaving the Averys\u2019, without having to get past his parents. He would have preferred to walk, but he was stuck with the car. As he drove, so slowly that the transmission never shifted past second gear, his thoughts drifted to that moonlit night. For almost two weeks he had wondered whether that experience had had any meaning. Now there was no escaping the obvious. Eden was no longer just his sister\u2019s friend; she had acquired a new dimension. The transformation could not have happened in Debbie\u2019s presence. It required having Eden\u2019s company to himself, seeing her as a \u201cperson\u201d separate from Debbie. He had brought laughter on himself trying to explain that, but she had forgiven his bumbling attempt when she saw his embarrassment. Maybe that was why she had reached for his hand.<\/p>

The touch of that hand! How many hands he had shaken in his lifetime. Men\u2019s, women\u2019s, children\u2019s, soccer captains\u2019. Soft handshakes, firm handshakes, crushing handshakes. Always in friendship, at least courtesy, always accompanied by a smile, always leaving behind a good feeling. He was sure that he had even shaken Eden\u2019s hand on one occasion or another, say, his bar mitzvah. But never had any hand, even hers, felt like this! What a revelation!<\/p>

He drove into the garage, turned off the motor, and closed his eyes. His hand had lain on her arm. Through her sleeve he had made out the form of a slender limb consisting mostly of bone and skin. He digressed briefly to marvel at the sense of touch, by which one recognizes objects without looking. But his focus shifted to another sensation\u00a0\u2014 one that had exploded in a different part of his brain, one whose impact depended on the identity of the arm\u2019s owner. How can this be? My fingers sense a form and a texture, a message goes up a nerve, and my brain says arm. My fingers sense a form and a texture, my consciousness says Eden, and my brain blows up!\u00a0 How does that happen?<\/p>

He tried not to set his expectations too high. She wasn\u2019t even sixteen. But she was not at all childish. Perhaps her maturity was the result of that dreadful illness. A close brush with death could make you grow up faster. He knew very little about that illness. During her convalescence he had sometimes visited along with Debbie, but Eden hadn\u2019t even looked sick. He had to find out more. Without knowing about this defining event, he could not know her.<\/p>

His ruminations were interrupted by a flashlight bobbing up and down on its way to the garage. Attached to it he saw his mother\u2019s silhouette, and in the instant between recognizing her and exiting the car he divined with certainty that her arm must feel nothing like Eden\u2019s.<\/p>

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d came her concerned voice.<\/p>

\u201cFine, Mom. Sorry for dragging you out here.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cIt\u2019s a nice night for a walk to the garage, but I was afraid you weren\u2019t feeling well.\u201d<\/p>

He walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek. \u201cNever better. May I escort you back?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWho can resist such an offer?\u201d She slipped her arm into his. Yes, it did feel different.<\/p>

\u201cNow what were you doing all that time in the garage?\u201d she asked.<\/p>

\u201cOh, just thinking.\u201d<\/p>

She turned to him with exaggerated innocence. \u201cWas it a good game?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cReal good.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWell, I\u2019m very happy.\u201d She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. Damn it, he thought, she sees right through me, even in the dark. Better say nothing.<\/p>

Inside, he headed for the freezer and helped himself to ice cream. \u201cWe had cherry pie at the Deli Belly, but we didn\u2019t take it \u00e0 la mode. I\u2019m making up for it.\u201d Esther didn\u2019t remind him that no explanation was necessary. But she couldn\u2019t resist a subtler prod.<\/p>

\u201cDon\u2019t you think you should have brought Edie over for a scoop too?\u201d she asked, with a twinkle that would have done credit to the Averys\u2019 Christmas tree.<\/p>

\u201cShame on me,\u201d he answered, laughing as naturally as he could. \u201cBut it was late.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cWell, I\u2019ll leave you to your food and your thoughts.\u201d<\/p>

He was sure she knew everything \u2015 maybe more than he. He tried to sound casual.<\/p>

\u201cBy the way, since you mentioned Edie, what do you know about that illness she had?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cRheumatic fever. A bad case. She was in intensive care for weeks.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cI know she was real sick, and it took her forever to get better. I remember Debbie was real scared she\u2019d die, like Uncle Milt. . . . I was scared too.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cMilt had bad coronaries. Rheumatic fever\u2019s quite different, comes from a strep throat.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cBut what\u2019s going on now? She still gets shots, doesn\u2019t she?\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThat\u2019s to stop her from getting strep throat again. Her dad could tell you all about it.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cHe might think I\u2019m being nosy.\u201d<\/p>

\u201cThen ask her<\/em>. She knows more about it than I, and I don\u2019t think she\u2019ll mind telling you.\u201d<\/p>

He wasn\u2019t ready for sleep, but the comfort of bed and the darkness of his room invited him to continue where he\u2019d left off when the flashlight appeared.<\/p>

Her hand had sought his. It was her initiative. With it she had assented to his reach for her arm. He had taken risks and he had not been rejected. There could be no doubt she\u2019d want to date him again. Once more he gave himself up to the touch of her fingers. Like the couplings on a train, his had closed over hers on contact. Didn\u2019t that imply a mutual recognition?<\/p>

A girl of fifteen, until a couple of\u00a0 weeks ago nothing more than a friend once removed, had now become the object of feelings he had never had to deal with. What a miraculous transformation! How had it happened? For that matter, exactly what had<\/em> happened? How had a full moon and a few million light years led to this?<\/p>

The next day would be busy. Up early to go over his calculus once more, chemistry lab, soccer practice. After that, he would deal with the delicious crisis that had descended on him.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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Chapter 14 >><\/a><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART II Within less than two weeks the opportunity for a date fell right into Josh\u2019s lap. The American all-stars were playing the Russian ice-hockey team and Max had a pair of tickets he couldn\u2019t use. Josh\u2019s jaw dropped. \u201cHow about it, Debbie?\u201d he asked reflexively. \u201cWednesday is band practice,\u201d Debbie said. \u201cTry Edie. I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":21,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-181","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/181","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=181"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/181\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":767,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/181\/revisions\/767"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/21"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/herbheineman.com\/Eden\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=181"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}