Chapter 111 Minnesota Rising
Harper Grant’s first full season in Minnesota ended in the Western Conference Final.
She finished with 41 goals and 84 points—career highs—earning second-team All-Star honors and the quiet respect of a locker room that had once viewed her as “the traded star.” The Wild fell in Game 7 to Edmonton in double overtime, but the city embraced her. Banners reading “Harper’s House” appeared in the stands. Kids wore #18 in youth leagues across the state.
Theo’s career had found its stride too. As head of sports medicine, he’d become the surgeon every Wild player requested by name. His protocols for rapid ACL recovery cut average return-to-play time by 18%. The hospital board quietly extended his contract with a significant raise.
Eleanor (twelve) made the varsity high-school team as a freshman. Benjamin (ten) won his school’s science fair with a model of a heart pump inspired by his mother’s transplant story. Sophia (eight) started figure skating—spinning under the backyard lights Theo had installed, mimicking Harper’s celly.
The family split time between St. Paul and Evergreen Hollow. Weekends at the lake house became sacred: cousins skating, rowing, telling stories about “Great-Grandpa Rowan’s bet.” Puck’s tree by the pond grew tall; the kids hung tiny jerseys on its branches every season.
Rowie and Jordan retired from full-time work. Rowie wrote a memoir, Ice & Heart, which became a quiet bestseller. Jordan consulted for rowing federations worldwide. They spent winters in Florida, summers on the pond—grandparent duties fully embraced.
Everett coached the Minnesota high-school state champions three years running. Elise opened a community arts center. Their daughter Mia (pro) and son Leo (assistant coach) carried the hockey torch.
Clara and Alex traveled—broadcasting from Europe, coaching clinics in Africa. Sofia became a rising sports journalist; Mateo a goalie coach in the AHL. Both visited often, bringing their own children to the pond.
The family never missed a holiday in Evergreen Hollow. The house stayed the same—porch swing still creaking, kitchen smelling of Holly’s cinnamon rolls (recipe preserved). The rink lights glowed every winter, even when no one skated.
One quiet October evening, Harper stood alone on the porch.
The lights were on, though no game was planned.
She touched the railing where Rowan used to lean.
A soft breeze moved the swing.
She smiled, tears falling.
They were all still here.
In the boards.
In the lights.
In every heartbeat.