A/N: Thank you's go out to all the reviewers! It's so funny, it's like there's this little 'Miracle' fanfic network... it's a slowly growing army! Anyways, sorry for the delay. Computers are such a bother.

This is the second installment-- enjoy!


Chapter Two

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Friday, June 13, 1979

Seven Months Until Opening Ceremony

(Maggie)

"Maggs, I want you to help check-in the players." Herb said to me as we passed through the giant doors leading into the arena. Our flight had just landed an hour earlier, and we still had three hours until the event started.

"Okay." I replied, grimacing a bit. As much as I loved hockey, and as much as I loved my Dad, I didn't know if I would be able to get through these seven months alive.

"Maggie?" He said seriously.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Now you and I both know that you will be surrounded by hockey players for the next seven months, and you are my daughter. You are to stay professional with this team, and I don't want you getting involved with any of them. I don't want any of my players distracted. Understood?"

I rolled my eyes. Don't worry, Dad. I have no plan whatsoever to get 'involved' with any of your players. Not after what happened... one of them was enough. I thought.

"I won't, Dad. Understood."

He nodded, giving me a side glance. "Good."

The conversation was closed and forgotten as soon as Herb stepped into his makeshift office the USOC had provided for him. He set down stacks of papers, all typed up, beside the typewriter, and turned towards the door.

"Let's go."

For the remaining three hours, I helped set up tables, stocked locker rooms and med rooms, and sorted files ready to be filled with the different players' information and statistics once the tryouts began.

The doors opened soon enough and throngs of hockey players flooded through them, lugging bags of equipment and sticks alongside them. It looked like complete chaos to me. Many players were being reunited with old teammates; some were seeing people for the first time in years. I recognized a lot of guys from University of Minnesota- Buzzy Schnieder, Phil Verchota, Mike Ramsey "Rammer", Steve Janaszak, Billy Baker; most of whom my friends, and Robbie had told me that he was sure to be there.

For the first hour or so I had to run out to our rental car a few times to fetch this or that for Dad, Craig Patrick, or Walter Bush (the director of this whole thing), and each time the parking lot was more and more crowded with cars and excited hockey players from around the country. It was hard to not feel the nervous energy around the place- players were everywhere, and I could feel the tension building.


"Hey there." I said distractedly as I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, looking up briefly at one of the players. "Name, please?" I asked.

"How you doin'. Ralph Cox, UNH." He said, setting down his gear. He smiled at me, and I gave him a quick smile in return, glancing up from scribbling out a registration sheet.

"Alright, here you go." I said, handing him a name tag and the form. "You're gonna need to go and get your picture taken over to your right, give this paper to the people behind the counter on your left, and then check in your equipment in the locker room down the main hall, third door on the right."

He smiled at me as he took the name tag and the paper. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Good luck, Ralph." He nodded, walking off.

"Maggie May!" I heard over the din from across the expansive lobby. I smiled, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. I looked up to see a grinning Rob McClanahan running towards me, gear in tow.

"Hey! Long time no see." I cried jokingly, standing up to hug him.

"Yeah, there was a whole one week period where I didn't ever think I'd see you again!" I laughed as he hugged me. "So you're gonna be part of the team?" he asked me when we let go.

"Yeah. Team manager, but I'm really the go-to girl for all the paperwork and arrangements and secretary for the team. Dad just wanted me to be excited about my job description." I said, hoping I sounded halfway convincing that I was actually excited about it.

"That's awesome! It'll be just like the old days…" he said, smiling. He either didn't catch on, or was pretending he didn't hear the nonexistent excitement in my voice.

"Yeah, it will. Except I won't be there to check you on the ice whenever you try and score." I said jokingly.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "You aren't ever gonna let me forget that are you?" I shook my head, giggling.

"Nope. Not ever."

"Hey, I can't help that we were fourteen years old… You're a girl, and it wouldn't have been right to check you."

I just laughed. "Yeah, sure." He laughed as well. "Have you been checked in?" I asked. He held up his registration papers.

"I'm off to get photographed."

"I guess I'll see you on the ice, then. Good luck, Robbie." I said, hugging him once more.

"Thanks Maggie. See ya." He replied, walking off towards the photographer.

I must've checked in at least six dozen other guys after that, all repeating the same thing over and over. After finally getting a five minute break to use the restroom, I ran right into who was apparently Walter Bush's secretary. Walter had wanted the files of the players trying out brought up to his office to review with the rest of the administrative staff, so of course, I had to use my five minute break to get the files and find the offices that they were meeting in before I got to go and watch the try-outs.

I was walking down the hall trying to find the administrative offices when I ran into someone, nearly falling over. I had been craning my neck to see through the windows of the various offices and was walking way too fast for not watching where I was going. The box I was carrying went flying to the ground as all the files and papers fell out, scattering all over the hallway.

"Oh, great!" I muttered under my breath, and bent down to start picking them up.

"Oh, sorry. That was my fault." I heard someone say with a very thick New England accent.

"No, it was my fault. I'm a klutz." I muttered, grabbing the papers and shoving them into random files. Then the New England-accented guy got down and started gathering the papers with me.

"Uh, here…" he said handing them to me.

"Thanks." I said, taking them, and looking up into the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

He held his hand out, offering to help me up. "Jimmy Craig." He said, smiling politely.

"Maggie Brooks." I replied, shaking it.

"Brooks? Like the coach?" he asked, raising his dark eyebrow, his eyes glinting.

I shifted the files to my hip. "Yeah." I said. "I'm his daughter, actually."

"Oh." he said. "And you're helping out with the team?"

I nodded. "Team Manager, or secretary- depending on who you talk to." I said. I could hear the dread in my voice, and I knew that Jimmy probably could tell I wasn't entirely too excited about it as well.

He picked up on it. "And you don't want to be team manager or secretary, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed. "I don't mind; in fact I'm excited about it. I love hockey, but it's…" I paused, trying to control the tears I could feel catching in my throat. "It's just something personal." I said, finally looking up at him.

"Okay." He said, accepting my answer. He had a questioning look on his face and I could tell that he was a little curious, but he didn't ask anything.

"Yeah." I said, nervously running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, then." He smiled.

"Yeah. I guess you will." I said, offering a small smile. "Nice meeting you."

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, nice meeting you, too."

He turned then, walking down the hall.

"Oh! Jimmy!" I called out. He stopped, turning around.

"Good luck!" I said. He smiled.

"Thanks."


Well, that's chapter two. You know that little button in the left hand lower corner? The one that's a weird, watered-down periwinkle color?

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-Amanda