One Night Before Christmas

Melanie watched the doors swing closed as her father exited. She was impressed by Dr. Reynolds’s ability not to appear pushed into making a decision. Her father was known for being a persuasive man and getting what he wanted. He wanted Rocket to play Sunday. Dr. Reynolds didn’t act as if he would be a yes-man if he didn’t feel it was safe for Rocket to do so. On this she could agree with him.

Still, it hurt that her father didn’t trust her opinion.

* * *

Dalton pulled the collar of his coat farther up around his neck and hunched his shoulders. They were in her car, moving through what was now a steady snowfall. It was unbearably cold. Even the car heater didn’t seem to block the chill seeping into his bones.

Dr. Hyde leaned forward and adjusted the thermostat on the dashboard. “It should be warm in here soon.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable again. Thankfully, a few minutes later he began to thaw. She maneuvered along the road with the confidence of a person who had done this many times.

“We should be at the Lodge in about half an hour. Would you like to stop for something to eat? The Lodge does have an excellent restaurant if you’d rather wait.”

He looked out the windshield. “I don’t think I’m interested in being out in this weather any longer than necessary.”

“It does require getting used to.”

He couldn’t imagine that happening either. “Why is Mr. Overtree called The Rocket?”

She glanced at him and chuckled lightly. “You apparently have never seen him play. He’s fast. Very fast.”

“I’ve never seen a professional football game.”

Melanie looked at him. The car swerved for a second before she corrected it.

“You might want to watch the road.”

She focused on the road again. “You’ve never seen one in person? Or on TV?”

“Neither. No interest. I have a busy practice.”

“You have to be kidding! Football is America’s game.” She sounded as if she was going to get overly excited about the subject.

“I think it’s baseball that’s supposed to be the ‘all-American game.’”

“It might have been at one time but no longer.” The words were said as if she dared anyone to contradict her.

He couldn’t help but raise a brow. “I think there are a lot of people who love baseball that might disagree with you.”

“Maybe but I bet most of them watch the Super Bowl.”

Dr. Reynolds gave a loud humph. “I understand that most watch for the halftime show and the commercials.” He didn’t miss the death grip she had on the stirring wheel. She really took football seriously. It was time to move on to a new subject or ask to drive. “The general manager’s name is Hyde. Any relation?”

“My father.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

She glanced at him again. “Normally, no. We’re so close to going to the playoffs that everyone on the team, including my father, is wound up tight. Anyway, most of my work is directly with the coach.”

Based on the way her father spoke to her, she’d agree with him if Dalton declared Rocket shouldn’t play. His being asked to consult seemed necessary just to make the team look as if they were truly interested in the player’s health. So far, all he could tell they were concerned about was winning the next game.

“What made you decide to be a team doctor?”

“With brothers playing in the NFL and a father who coached, it’s the family business. I always wanted to be a doctor and being a team doctor gave me a chance to be a part of football,” she said in a flat tone.

Was there more going on behind that statement?

The concept of family, much less a family business, was foreign to him. His family’s occupation had been selling drugs and he’d wanted to get as far away from it as he could. He’d been a loner and alone for as long as he could remember.

Thankfully she turned into a curving road lined with large trees and had to concentrate on her driving. A few minutes later, they approached a three-story split-cedar building. She pulled under a portico with small lights hanging from it. Two large trees dressed in the same lights with red bows flanked the double wood-framed doors.

“This is Poospatuck Lodge. I think you’ll be comfortable here. The team keeps a suite.”

“Poospatuck?” When had he become such an inquisitive person? Usually on these trips he did what was required without any interest in the area he was visiting.

“It’s an Indian tribe native to New York.”

As she opened the door Dalton said, “It’s not necessary for you to get out.”

“I don’t mind. I need to speak to the management and I can show you up to your suite.”

Dalton grabbed his two bags from the backseat and followed her through the door into the welcome heat of the lobby. Large beams supported the two-story ceiling. Glass filled the wall above the door. The twinkle of lights from outside filtered in through the high windows. Flames burned bright in a gray rock fireplace taking up half of one wall. Above it was a large wreath. Along the mantel lay greenery interspersed with red candles. A grand stairway with an iron handrail led to the second floor.

Christmas had never been a big holiday for him. As a small child, it had just been another day for his parents to shoot up and pass out. In fact, the last time he was taken from his mother had been the day before Christmas. It hadn’t been much fun spending Christmas Day at a stranger’s house. Being a foster child on that day just sent the signal more strongly that he wasn’t a real member of the family. Some of his foster parents had really tried to make him feel a part of the unit but it had never really worked. Now it was just another day and he spent it on the beach or with friends.

Dr. Hyde walked toward the registration desk located to the right of the front door.

The clerk wore a friendly smile. “Hello, Dr. Hyde. Nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Mark. It’s good to see you also. How’s your family doing?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Good.” She glanced back. “This is Dr. Reynolds. He’ll be staying in our suite. I’ll show him up.”

“Very good. It’s all ready for you.”

She turned to Dalton. “The elevator is over this way but we’re only going to the second floor if you don’t mind carrying your bags.”

“I believe I can manage to go up the stairs.”

She gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Please just show me my room.” Dalton picked up his bags off the floor where he’d placed them earlier. He didn’t miss her small sound of disgust as she turned and walked toward the stairs. He followed three or four steps behind as they climbed the stairs. He enjoyed the nice sway of her hips.

At the top of the stairs she turned left and continued down a wide, well lit hallway to the end.

A brass plaque on the door read Niagara Currents. She pulled a plastic door key out of her handbag. With a quick swipe through the slot, she opened the door. Entering, she held the door for him.