Chapter 20: The Letter C

Ty had a seat for me in the first row behind the Ironmen bench.

It was the best seat in the building, and it had my name on a card.

I looked at it for a long time before I sat.

The baby was still in the NICU with a nurse I trusted.

Pete sat on my left with his arms folded over his chest.

"If she sings, I'm walking out," he said.

"Who?"

"Your mother-in-law. She's on the list. She's presenting the ring box."

I turned my head.

At center ice stood a velvet table, a podium, and the league commissioner in a navy suit.

Behind them a row of folding chairs held the owner, the owner's wife and four men from the front office.

Bernadette sat at the end in her good blue dress, with her hands folded and her chin up.

The owner's wife had said Bernadette was suspended as chair of the committee.

She had not said anything about the ring box.

The lights dimmed, and the Ironmen skated out one at a time in their jerseys, and the crowd stood.

Twenty thousand people roared, and I felt it in my breastbone.

Ty came out last, number 17, with the C stitched on his chest.

I had watched him skate onto this ice for ten years from the nosebleeds.

I had never heard the crowd say his name in a voice like this.

The commissioner made a speech.

The owner made a speech.

Then it was time for the rings.

Bernadette stood and took the box in both hands.

The scoreboard showed her face, smiling, twenty feet wide.

Her voice carried over the speakers.

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