And so readers, nine months later, this brings us to Chapter 50 and the end of Tangled, the story I consider to be my 'baby'. What a ride! Thank you so much for sticking with me through it all, from the messes Vanessa got herself into as a nineteen year old to seeing the relationships she held close grow and expand. I'm sad to see this one end, but please feel free to check out my new Miracle story, entitled 'Hummingbird' and starring Jim Craig.

Some content from this chapter relates to 'The Boys of Winter' by Wayne Coffey (which is an EXCELLENT book), and special thanks to my two betas, justlikewedo and Quicksliver (hugs and smiles, ladies :) )

As always, reviews are welcome.

Regards,

Bluehaven4220

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Chapter 50

Vanessa sat in the front pew, unaware of what others were saying. There had been plenty of “I'm sorry”'s and “If there's anything I can do”'s, but the one thing she needed was to see her father alive one last time... to tell him she loved him. She'd taken it for granted so many times, and now she'd lost her chance.

She'd watched as Mike Eruzione gave a heartwarming speech, likening Herb Brooks to a father that you loved deeply, but didn't necessarily like a hundred precent of the time because he pushed you so hard.

Vanessa couldn't agree more. When she'd pushed him away, he'd fought hard to win her back. When she lashed out, he was there to receive it. When she fell, he was there to catch her.

The church service had ended with barely a dry eye to been seen, cards from Colleen and Marian and David and Amber, as well as Dan and Kelly's children stood erect on the table next to the alter, where the priest had asked for her father's soul to rest peacefully. Pollbearers gathered around her father's casket, preparing to lift him up and carry him to his final resting place. Exiting the church, she saw the procession. Her hands moved to cover her mouth as she watched her father being carried beneath a canopy of hockey sticks.

A fitting end to a life that revolved around both family and hockey.

A tough balancing act for any man, but for Herb Brooks, it was even more difficult. There were times that he had faced taking a job that he didn't want and leaving his family behind for more money, but he never had. Herb Brooks, family man.

Hard to imagine, huh?

Later, at the reception for the team and their families, Buzzy and Gayle with their boys Billy and Neil had made the trip, Steve and Christine with Rebecca, Robbie and Erica with Colleen (whose own pregnancy, at 23, was just beginning to show. She'd come back to stay with her parents, as she was on her own) and Marian, while Jack had come alone. Mark Johnson, his wife Leslie, and their kids had come down, Neil Broten and his wife Sally, they were all there. Everyone except Mark Pavelich. She knew he'd paid his respects, in his own way, he just couldn't do it with them.

She bit her lip as she got up, and, squeezing Jimmy's hand, made her way to the podium. She'd meant to have a speech prepared, but somehow, writing what she felt down on paper felt odd, like it didn't come from the heart. No, this was the way it needed to be done, without a piece of paper in her hand.

“Hello, everyone,” she gulped as she stood before the sea of hockey players. “I'd like to thank you all for coming...”

Silence.

“I know you heard this already at the church service, and I know we'd been meaning to have a get together sooner rather than later, but this wasn't really the reunion we were hoping for,” she paused. “But today isn't really about grieving. We can do that on our own time. No, this...” her hand moved in a sweeping motion, “this is about celebrating.”

She saw Jimmy smile.

“Of course, we could have chosen to show Herb Brooks as a grandfather with his grandkids sitting on his lap or reading bedtime stories or having him chase away the monsters from under the bed using flashlights and finger puppets, but, we didn't.” She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. “My mother, and my brother and sister and I, we chose to show him as a 42 year old hockey coach, doing what he loved.”

Vanessa emphasized the hockey stick glued to the front of the podium. “This...” she pointed. “This was what Herb Brooks loved. But family always came first. I know that...” she swallowed a sob, “I know that he likened us all to family. He could've gotten to know us all as sons and daughters, as family once again. Though I know it never got to that point, I know that it wasn't as though he was incapable of doing so.”

She raised her glass of water and shook her head to get her hair out of her eyes. “To Herb Brooks, the greatest man, father, and hockey coach I have ever known.”

Suddenly there were over one hundred glasses raised to Herb, to toast his memory, like he deserved.

“To Herb Brooks,” everyone agreed.

As Vanessa stepped down from the podium, she was suddenly enveloped by her teammates from over twenty years ago.

If it hadn't been for Herb, they wouldn't be the people they had become. Journalists, pilots and oral surgeons, coaches, marketing executives, and, in some cases, better hockey players.

If it hadn't been for Herb, they would not have had the experiences, been through the rises and falls, spoken to each other after the Olympics.

And though it was difficult, and it hurt, Vanessa could still hear his voice, calling that drill after the game in Norway.

“Again!”

A whistle blew as she closed her eyes, finding herself in Jimmy's arms.

“Again!”

She saw his tie loosened.

“Again!”

And when the whistle blew again, she heard the words that had changed their lives forever.

“I play for... the United States of America!”

Indeed.