And I Thought I Loved You Then

October 15th 2009

Autumn bolted upright into a sitting position as a ferocious explosion of thunder jolted her awake. The raging early fall storm rocking the city of Pittsburgh and surrounding areas was a perfect catalyst to the troublesome dream that had plagued her sleep. A vivid recollection of a day four years ago in Hackensack, New Jersey, when lightning slashed the early morning sky and rain teamed down. Awakened from her slumber by two state troopers, colleagues of her husband and college sweetheart, standing on her front porch and hammering their fists against the door. There to deliver the worst possible news. A moment that she’d always feared would come and had always mentally tried to prepare herself for, but had rocked her to her very soul and brought her to her knees. It had taken less than thirty seconds to receive the news, fifteen longer than what a enraged driver during a routine traffic stop had taken to end her husband’s life.

Four years often seemed like an eternity. And sometimes it felt as if it were just yesterday. And while she had promised herself, and her husband’s memory that she would one day go on and would one day find love again with someone that would take care of her and their then two year old son, that promise was proving excruciatingly hard to keep. While the loss wasn’t as painful anymore -she’d long ago surpassed the sleepless nights spent sobbing into her pillow and the devastating loneliness of the early mornings- it was still a significant loss. She’d spent ten years of her life with the same man. Meeting Quinton Winters while was sophomore student and football and lacrosse star at Acadia University in her hometown of Wolfville Nova Scotia and she was a shy and withdrawn freshman. A native of New Jersey, he was in Canada on a sports scholarship and studying Criminal Justice. Things had materialized quickly between them. She’d fallen hopelessly and madly in love with him the moment he’d flashed that million watt smile and spoke in his deep, whiskey smooth voice.

Despite her families doubts and misgivings regarding the relationship, she had been convinced that she’d found her always and forever. A man that loved her and respected her and would never betray her or leave her. By the start of her second year in school, she had gotten pregnant with what would be their only child. A little boy with mocha skin and vibrant green eyes and thick, black curls that they’d named Ryan Michael Jordan, the second and third names a nod to Quinton’s favourite basketball player. She’d stayed home with the baby for the first year of his life. Taking a leave from school to bond with their son before resuming her studies in social work the following September.

Upon graduating, it had been a simple choice to marry Quinton and uproot their small family to Hackensack, where they briefly lived with his mother -and only relative- Zara while he went through the New Jersey State Police academy, buying their own little starter home when he made it onto the force and began bringing home decent pay checks and she secured a position in New York City at Women’s and Children’s Hospital.

Life had seemed…perfect. They were young an in love and extremely happy. They had a beautiful child and had begun making plans to add to their family. Only to have domestic bliss cut to a tragic halt just days shy of their first wedding anniversary.

The memories of that day and the weeks and months afterwards were still burned fresh in her memory. She still owned the simple black long sleeved cashmere dress that she’d worn to her husband’s funeral. She’d worn it once then sealed it in a garment bag that was carted to every residence she found herself moving into and now took up space in the far corner of her closet. The folded American flag that had graced Quinton’s casket had been encased in a glass topped shadow box that was currently packed away somewhere in the attic. She planned to give it to Ryan when he was old enough to appreciate the sentiment and realize the sacrifice his father had made. Autumn had painstakingly and lovingly cut the death announcement and articles involving Quinton’s shooting out of the newspaper and had pasted them in a memory book that sat on a shelf in the living room bookcase. And while she had given up the daily practice of opening that book and crying over its contents nearly three years ago, there were times, when dusting, that she took the album off and leafed through it and sat down on the couch and had herself a good cry.

The move to Pittsburgh two months ago, had been cleansing for her. She had jumped at the chance to relocate when the posting for a social worker on a palliative care team at the Children’s hospital at the Pittsburgh University Medical Center had come up. Four years of constant reminders of everything she’d lost had finally caught up to her and she was looking for something different. A change in scenery, new friends and colleagues. New beginnings. And perhaps even a second chance at life. She was cautiously optimistic that there was someone out there for her. Someone that would never be able to take Quinton’s place, but whom she would love in a different way. Someone would in turn would love her and Ryan and give them the kind of life that her husband had always desired for them.

So far however, out of two possible suitors, she’d found just as many frogs. Guys who claimed to be mature, responsible and professional who in reality, were nothing but inconsiderate, moronic jackasses.

Maybe this is the way it’s meant to be, she thought, as she cast a glance at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed. Quarter to nine on a Sunday morning and she didn’t have to be at the hospital until one o’clock. Which meant some extra time in bed. Reaching behind her to slam her palm into her pillow several times in other to fluff it, she laid back down. Placing her hands behind her head, she stared up at the intricate pattern on the cove ceiling and listened to the rain pound against the window and the thunder rumble.

Maybe I’m meant to be alone, she concluded. Maybe this is some kind of sign that I’m better off as a solo act. Or at least one with a pint sized wingman. Maybe there is no one out there for me because I’m not meant to have anyone else. Because I’ve already had the best and they’d only be for competing with a ghost. And no man, jackass or charming prince, deserves to deal with that.

And maybe you need to get your shit together before even thinking of dragging some poor man into the mess, the logical side of her brain pointed out. Get all your eggs in one basket and your own head screwed on tight before you put too much stock into a relationship. Deal with your own issues you already have before creating even more.

She gave a nod in agreement of that assessment, and propping herself up on her elbows, allowed her hazel eyes to survey the master bedroom. Part of dealing with her own issues, she realized, included finally unpacking the cardboards boxes that were scattered around the room and still remained sealed tight. She wanted to paint the boring white walls and add a splash of colour to brighten the place up. The two and a half storey red brick home was in excellent condition and needed only a handful of minor repairs, but the previous owners had apparently been in love with white and beige and each room reminded her of a hospital.

Hell, even work is more lively than this, she thought, and yawning noisily, closed her eyes and nestled her head further into her pillow as she prepared to grab some extra sleep. A frustrated groan erupting from her lips when the cordless phone on the bedside table rang noisily. Once, twice, three times. Choosing to either let someone else pick it up, or have the call go to voice mail.

The fourth ring was cut off abruptly, and she held her breath and waited for the inevitable.

“Autumn!” her mother in law bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “Telephone! Your boss wants to talk to you! And it’s time to get your butt out of bed girl! I know I’m the grandma but I ain’t no nanny.”

A smirk tucked at Autumn’s lips. Despite Zara’s constant protestations and light hearted bitching and moaning about being the second parent to Ryan and a mother to her daughter in law, she was in fact, a doting and attentive woman who lived for her grandson. Ryan had twisted her around his little finger from the time he was born, and when she’d gotten the job in Pittsburgh, Autumn hadn’t had the heart to separate grandma and her precious grandbaby. And instead, had invited her mother in law to come along. Offering to give her free room and board in favour of assisting in the care and upbringing of Ryan. A strange, odd situation to say the least. Living with the mother of her deceased husband was…interesting. Dysfunctional even. Yet the woman was like a mother to her. More than her own had ever been since she’d been anointed a disgrace to the entire family by hooking up with someone of the opposite race.

“AUTUMN!” Zara yelled once more. “Don’t you dare make me come up there and haul your ass out of bed! I ain’t above dumping a bucket of cold water over your head! And you ain’t too old for me to put ya over my knee and…”

“Alright! Alright!” Autumn shouted back, as she turned onto her side and reached for the cordless phone. “I heard you already! Keep your slip on, granny!”

“Why you little…”

“Got it!” she cut her mother in law’s tirade short as she scooped up the phone and hit the talk button. “You can hang up now…” she said into the receiver, then plopped back down into her pillow. “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me I don’t have to come in today,” she pleaded. “Please tell me that whatever Pittsburgh Penguin I was suppose to play happy hostess to today decided he can’t risk melting in the rain and decided to stay warm and dry in his mansion.”

“Jordan Staal lives in a condo in the downtown core and is a gem,” Gwen, the head of the paediatric palliative care team informed her. A native of Pittsburgh, she was nearing fifty but still believed, by the looks of her frosted blond hair, figure hugging clothes and layers of makeup that she wasn’t a day older than twenty five. She was also an angel in disguise and possibly the best boss Autumn had ever worked for. With her eccentric personality and often foul mouth, Gwen was more a buddy than a supervisor. At least in private.

“But the condo is probably at least a million to buy,” Autumn pointed out.

“Probably…but he is a darling and just oh so irresistible.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. “You really need to start crushing on guys more your age,” she said.

“Honey, I’d rather take two or three his age and teach ‘em everything they need to know instead of find someone that needs their Depends changed every couple of hours, okay? And I was thinking more along the lines for you. Someone needs to scope out all the hotties.”

“Jocks?” Autumn laughed. “I don’t care how sweet and charming they are or how much money they make. Jocks just aren’t…they just aren’t me.”

“Wasn’t your husband a jock?”

“Exactly my point. Been there, done that. Now I need…well now I need someone with more…substance. I need to try something different. A doctor. Lawyer even.”

“And have the jock on the side to rock your world if you know what I’m saying,” Gwen chided, then burst out laughing. “And to answer your questions before, no. I’m not calling to tell you to stay home.”

Autumn groaned inwardly.

“We’ve got another player taken Staal’s place,” Gwen explained. “An even bigger player that has offered his time.”

“Oh how gracious of him,” Autumn twirled a piece of her waist length chestnut hair around her finger. “It must be paining him to have to take a break from counting his money.”

“You’re very cynical for someone so young,” her boss grumbled.

“It’s called sarcasm mixed with a little bit of the truth,” Autumn grinned.

“Not all of the celebrities in this city are bad,” Gwen informed her. “Just because you’ve had a couple of bad instances with some of the Steelers…”

“One of them commented on my ‘twins’ as he so eloquently referred to my boobs as and the other was there fulfilling some of the requirements of his probation. Remember? He was doing his community service for an assault conviction. And he makes nearly twenty million and still wanted his parking and meal paid for.”

“But that was NFL, sweetie,” the other woman said. “And this is the NHL.”

“What’s the difference?” Autumn asked, using the back of her hand to stifle a yawn. “Other than a different consonant in the middle?”

Gwen sighed. “You are so difficult, do you know that? Love ya, but you’re a total pain in my rear. The difference is that the NHL players are…well they’re different. They’re laid back and easy going and are just…well they’re like the stereotypical boy next door. They’re polite and adorable and do these gigs because they genuinely love the kids and helping out. Well, at least the NHL players here are like that.”

“The ones in New Jersey were amazing too,” Autumn said. “I think the league breeds them different or something. Because the NHL guys do seem to be the ones doing the most for charities and what not.”

“Now that’s the spirit!” Gwen exclaimed. “Go into this with some optimism! Some of the sunny disposition we all know you’re capable of busting out from time to time. You’ll love this guy. Trust me. All the nurses just go crazy when he comes around.”

“Is he cute?” Autumn asked.

“Between me and you? Hottie. With a capital H. And he’s got this ass…girl, you will take one look at it and realize you’ve never, ever seen an ass as good as that.”

“And that is just the basis of my job,” Autumn snorted. “To check out some hockey player’s ass.”

“Trust me…you will not be able to resist. Anyhow, he offered to come in and visit your families. But there’s a catch.”

“Of course…”

“He has previous plans in the early evening and if he was to come at two o’clock like originally planned…”

“He probably wouldn’t get out of there in time to attend to his social life,” Autumn finished.

“So I told him that he could be there for twelve and…”

“Twelve?!” Autumn shrieked and scrambled into a sitting position. “It’s almost quarter to ten!”

“And you only live about fifteen minutes from the hospital,” Gwen pointed out.

“Twenty on a good driving day. And look at it out there! It’s practically the great flood! It will take twice as long to get to work. And that’s if I’m lucky.”

“Well then I suggest you get a move on and get an early start on the roads,” her boss suggested.

Autumn sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “And just who is his Majesty?” she inquired
.
“Sidney Crosby,” Gwen answered nonchalantly.

Autumn’s eyes widened.

“The captain of the team,” the older woman continued, as if she needed to provide an in depth explanation. “Youngest captain ever in the NHL, the one they call The Next One, just helped the team win the Stanley Cup. He…”

“I know who he is,” Autumn interrupted. “I wasn’t born yesterday. We’re from the same province, remember? Quinton and I practically chartered this kid’s course from the time he was playing with the Dartmouth Subways and the scouts were tripping over themselves to get a look at him. And not just us. All of the Maritimes. Hell, all of Canada was following every move this kid made.”

“Well he sure isn’t a kid anymore,” Gwen said. “He is all man.”

“He’s what? Twenty-two? Born August seventh, 1987? He wasn’t even born yet when I was already in kindergarten. I had a kid before he was even in his junior year of high school. That’s a kid to me.”

“How’d you know when his birthday is? You’ve got some kind of fan girl crush or something?”

Autumn snorted and pushed her covers off of her legs. “As if,” she responded, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Hey…he’s young, you’re young…”

“A kid, Gwen. He’s a kid. Regardless if he’s hockey prodigal son or not.”

“You can’t deny that he’s hot,” her boss said.

“I’m not even going to make a comment,” Autumn told her. “Whether or not I think Sidney Crosby is hot has nothing to do with any of this. I’m just meeting him because it’s part of my job. That’s it. I’ll leave the obsessive, fan girl swooning to you.”

“Young ones are a clean, pristine canvas,” Gwen reminded her. “You can take them and mould them anyway you want. Teach them everything you need to know.”

“Oh I’m sure he has tons of girlfriends to do that for him,” Autumn scoffed. “A guy that good looking and that built…”

“So you do think he’s good looking!”

Autumn ignored the cackling on the other end of the phone. “No guy that looks like that and has a body of that is wanting in the female attention category. In fact, he’s either got some brain dead, model or movie star girlfriend, or two or three different skanks to hook up with in each city he goes to on road trips.”

“Actually, he’s very humble and shy and is single,” Gwen corrected her. “I’m not so sure if he’s available because he’s all about his hockey. He’s married to the sport.”

“Which is even worse than him having hordes of women,” Autumn said. “I was married to a man that was addicted to his job. Sometimes you honestly wish there was another woman to blame for the fact that he’s gone so much. Because it would be easier to accept that he’s with someone else and not just obsessed with his work.”

“You know what I think?” Gwen asked. “I think you’ve been single for far too long. That you either need a boyfriend, or you just need to get laid.”

Autumn laughed as she strode into her walk in closet. “That is not the answer to every problem in the world!”

“No…but its damn fun and feels good, right? Nothing wrong with that. And speaking of boyfriends. Weren’t you going out with that anaesthesiologist last night? The one you’ve been seeing for a few weeks?”

“I did go out with him,” Autumn told the other woman, as she flipped through hangers of clothes. “He took me out to dinner.”

“And?” Gwen pressed.

“And somewhere between the appetizers and main course, he dumped me,” she admitted with a heavy sigh.

“Because…?” Gwen asked.

“Because he says that I have way too much baggage,” Autumn replied.

“So says the moron with three ex wives and half a dozen kids,” the older woman snorted. “What a sorry excuse for a man. Can’t handle a feisty, young thing with a little boy.”

“I think it’s actually the whole dead husband thing he can’t handle,” Autumn sighed. “That seemed to be his biggest issue. He said that it was apparent I hadn’t dealt with my grief in a proper way and that perhaps I should see a counsellor about it. So that I am able to get on with my life and be happy again. And then…then he proceeded to give me a number of a counsellor he knew. Which turns out to be the woman he’s been seeing behind my back.”

“Ouch…” Gwen gave a pained hiss.

“Yeah…it was pleasant. I think now is about the time that I relegated myself to the fact that I’m going to be alone forever. That I’m never going to meet a Prince Charming that’s going to sweep me off my feet and whisk me away. No one is ever going to waltz in and save me. This is it. This is my life. Ryan is going to be the only man in my life from now on.”

“Until he’s twenty and finds a nice girl to marry and leaves you all alone and miserable,” Gwen spoke up. “And trust me. He’s not going to want to have mommy living with him forever. You know what your problem is?”

“Enlighten me,” Autumn said, and yanked a dark grey pantsuit off of its hanger, followed by a powder blue blouse.

“Your problem is that you’re not selective enough. You’re just too willing to jump into anything so that you don’t have to be alone. And that…that isn’t good. For you or for Ryan. You need to consider your options before diving into something. There’s a lot of decent men out there that would love to be with a pretty, intelligent thing like you. Who don’t mind that you have a dead husband or a kid.”

“Guys do not want a ready made family,” Autumn said.

“No guys that you’ve been meeting,” Gwen corrected. “Be more selective when looking for someone. Don’t jump at the first opportunity. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Decent ones. So don’t be settling for the first thing you land.”

“Yes mom,” Autumn chided. “You know, maybe you should quit your day job and write a novel. One of those how to guides for dummies. Call it, ‘How To Land a Guy Without Losing Your Self Respect’.”

“Hmmm…” Gwen considered it. “I like it. It’s good. But I was considering something more along the lines of, ‘How to Turn Any Man Into A Grovelling Subject Ready to Serve’.”

“That could work too,” Autumn agreed. “Okay…so I’m going to haul ass now so I can actually be there on time to meet this guy.”

“Front reception desk, twelve o'clock,” Gwen told her. “And wear something that shows off those eyes of yours. And something that shows off that body even more.”

“I am not pimping myself out to no hockey player,” Autumn argued. “Regardless of how hot he is or how ripped he is.”

“Does it matter to you how big his…stick is?” Gwen laughed heartily at her own joke.

Autumn frowned. “I’m hanging up now,” she announced, her thumb hovering over the end button.

“I promise you that you’ll have a good time today,” her boss assured her. “I promise you that he’s not a pompous ass and that he won’t make sexual innuendos towards you. He’s a wonderful young man and he’s so…he’s so sweet and small town boy like. Trust me, Autumn. You’ll really like him.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, and disconnected the call. Sighing heavily, she stared down at the selection of clothes draped over her arm.

It was going to be a hell of long day.