by Jayna Morrow
Gabriel gave him a warning glare.
“OK, OK.” He pressed the silver paper down. “Nice of you to have this little get-together. It’s been forever since we’ve hung out.”
Gabriel plopped a patty down on the platter. “Don’t get too sentimental. It was Lyra’s idea. She wanted to thank Micara in person and brag about the wedding to someone. I kinda figured Micara would bring you.”
Same ol’ Gabriel.
“But you agreed to it. Admit it, big brother, you love me.” Garrett jabbed him in the arm with his elbow.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but you are family.” Gabriel shrugged and grinned—a simple offering, but enough to cause a twinge in Garrett’s heart.
“Issues aside, we share blood. That’s all that matters.”
Gabriel didn’t respond. He slapped the last patty on the platter and raised his voice. “OK, I’ll get the fixins out of the house while you guys clear the table.”
“That’s my cue to pack up all these magazines.” Lyra started closing and stacking them. “Oh, Gabriel?”
“Yes, hon?”
“Could you try again to coax Slade out of hiding? It would mean a lot to me if he joined us for dinner.”
Slade had returned home? Thank goodness.
Gabriel’s face fell, but he nodded. “I’ll do my best. He wouldn’t budge earlier, but maybe the prospect of food will lure him out.”
“Tell him Uncle Garrett wants to eat dinner with him. Maybe that will help.” She winked at Garrett.
Gabriel disappeared into the house.
Lyra sighed. “I hope he doesn’t do this on our wedding day. I love Slade, but he’s hard to handle. Too bad parenting doesn’t come with a rule book. He used to be such a good kid.”
“He’s still a good kid.” Garrett wasn’t about to let Lyra misjudge his nephew.
With pinched lips, she fiddled with the edges of the magazines.
When Gabriel returned, she changed the subject. “The wedding is going to be so beautiful. I can’t wait for y’all to see it.”
The delicious aroma of hamburgers tickled his nostrils, and Garrett’s stomach growled. He grabbed a paper plate and started building his sandwich. The others followed his example.
“Y’all wait before you eat your burger.” Gabriel made a production of opening a container of sweet-smelling mushrooms. “Here’s something special to put on it.”
“Wow! Those look amazing—and smell amazing.”
“It’s Worcestershire sauce and a lot of butter.” Gabriel’s chest puffed out.
“Where’d you learn to cook something fancy like this?” Garrett didn’t bother to hide his grin. He hadn’t seen Gabe this relaxed in too long.
“Lyra’s brother is a chef. He’s taught me a few things.”
“You did good, brother. These aren’t just ordinary burgers now.”
Slade came onto the patio, his expression sulky.
“Slade, glad you joined us.” Garrett was happy to see him.
The boy shrugged. “Hey.” He made his burger, but instead of sitting with the family, he took his plate back into the house.
“Aren’t you going to make him eat with us?” Garrett couldn’t help himself. Slade needed to be with the family.
“Slade, get back out here.” Gabriel growled the words, obviously resenting Garrett’s question. “Your uncle wants to eat with you.”
The glass sliding door slammed shut.
“See what I mean? I can’t tell him anything.” Gabriel shoved a large bite of his burger in his mouth.
Garrett stared towards his nephew’s disappearing back.
Micara patted his arm. “I’ve been praying so hard for him,” she whispered. “I know everything’s gonna be OK.”
How did Gabe live with this much stress on a daily basis? And it was about to get worse. A storm was brewing and would arrive in the not-so-distant future—Garrett felt it. He didn’t take Lyra for the type that could be persuaded to move to the country by a few flowerbeds.
Driving Micara home after dinner, a heavy sadness overwhelmed him. He stopped in front of her wood-frame house, where a couple of lights burned in the windows. The porch light offered a welcoming glow. He stared at the front doorway.
“Are you OK?” Micara’s voice drew his attention.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t say a word the whole trip over.”
He slid his hands around the steering wheel. “I can’t stop thinking about what Lyra said at dinner.”
“Her comment about Slade?”
He nodded.
“She doesn’t know anything about him. Don’t let her get to you.”
“He used to be such a good kid. Those were her words.” He shook his head.
“As you said, he’s still a good kid. He’s just a little tough to manage right now. The smart ones always are, but a light still flickers inside him. I know it.”
“She did hit on something significant.”
“What’s that?”
“He did use to be a good kid. I’m talking about his behavior, not his heart.”
“Of course.” She placed her warm hand on his.
“Something happened. One day, he just snapped. Until Gabriel makes an effort to bond with his son, things will only get worse.” He met Micara’s concerned gaze, tapped his chest, and then dropped his hand onto hers. “I know what that boy was like. It’s like some kind of monster has taken over, but I can still see the real Slade in his eyes. I miss the nephew I fished with years ago.” Garrett blew out a frustrated breath and let his head drop back against the headrest. “I want him back, but I have no idea how to help him.”
7
Garrett sat at his desk, his bum leg extended out to the side. Coaching in a brace presented a challenge, but he’d done it before. Right now, he had bigger problems than his leg. The feud between Matthew and Austin continued, and the boys’ hostility toward each other had almost lost the team the first game of the season. He refused to have a repeat this week, and the game would start in a few minutes.
Matthew entered the office first.
Not a surprise. Garrett was well aware that the boy worshiped the ground he hobbled on. Matt always hustled to accomplish every task put to him. Garrett had been just like that as a kid, always focused on the game and eager to please. Matt had such a bright outlook on life in spite of his circumstances. Garrett didn’t want this little feud to cloud the boy’s judgment.
Austin presented the other side of the coin. Everything was a fight with that hotshot. His attitude had become a daily issue. And though the boys had similar backgrounds and hardships, Austin let his circumstances get the better of him.
Garrett hated losing good kids to unhealthy situations, but he could only do so much. Still, his conscience nagged at him a little. He found it so much easier to help Matthew, given the kid’s respectable attitude and behavior. Maybe he’d chosen the easy way out. Both boys needed a good role model in their lives, and he wondered if he’d done everything he could for Austin.
Across the room, the second kid shuffled through the doorway.
Austin’s dark, curly hair sported a style straight out of the seventies. He fixed a belligerent gaze on Garrett first and then glared at Matthew with ice blue eyes. Then he turned and started to leave. He’d just stepped through the doorway when Garrett’s ultimatum stopped him.
“Leave now, and you don’t play.” Garrett watched for a reaction.
The kid stiffened, then stopped and leaned in the doorway.
“Have a seat, boys.”
Austin obeyed but took his sweet time at it. He crossed his arms in a defensive posture and leaned so far back in his seat the front two legs came up off the floor.
Garrett chose to ignore the disrespect. “The game’s starting in thirty minutes. I brought you two boys in to make sure your heads are on straight. Last week, the friction on the sidelines almost cost us the game. Now I know y’all had a disagreement. As someone who was caught up and in
jured in that fight, I think the both of you owe me a little respect.”
Austin snorted and tossed his head like an indignant horse.
“Oh, you don’t agree?” Garrett had enough of ignoring Austin’s attitude.
“I don’t owe anybody anything.” He let the chair legs hit the floor with a jarring slam and leaned forward.
Garrett winced as he stood up and rounded the desk. He manipulated his leg so that it extended straight out in front of Austin.
“You see this leg? You are responsible for this. I could have pressed charges and had you sent to an alternative school. Bye-bye football. Hello to some really nasty boys who would eat you for lunch. So yes, you owe me a little respect.”
Austin was now making a bit of eye contact.
Good. Garrett had guilted him enough to make him listen. He grabbed the advantage while he had it. “Furthermore, I argued with Principal Walker on your behalf.” He pointed a finger at Austin’s chest. “Argued with her over the situation and both of you escaped some serious charges, but I won’t have your personal issues affecting the games.” He moved his gaze between the two scowling teens. “All I ask in return for what y’all put me through is that you leave your personal issues at home. When you step out on that field—together—I expect you to treat each other like you treat every other member of this team. You are to work together, protect each other, pass the ball, and do your respective parts to help this team win a victory.”
Both boys dropped their chins and nodded.
“Now shake hands and hit the dressing room. It’s almost game time.”
The two boys extended hands and shook. They didn’t high five or fist bump. He had a hunch this wasn’t the end of their issues, but it was a start.
He left the office with his head held high, and hopeful about tonight’s game.
~*~
Micara was back on the football field sooner than expected and of her own accord, but she wanted to support Garrett. She’d missed last Friday’s game due to a landscaping job in Bishop, but she made sure to keep her schedule clear for tonight. Sporting the school’s colors in her top and shorts, she was ready. If Garrett was tough enough to coach football in a leg brace, then she could sit through the game even though she had no idea what was going on. Plus, she liked football a lot better now that she had a reason to attend the games other than hauling folding tables and boxes of Eagle memorabilia for MeMaw.
“Garrett!” She maneuvered through the crowd to the chain link fence.
Garrett sat on the sideline in a golf cart. When he fixed those piercing blue eyes on her, an electric tingle shot right through her entire being. And she’d thought coming here was a choice. Oh, boy. He drove the golf cart over to the fence. Micara smiled.
“Micara, what are you doing here?”
His words held surprise and...was that delight? Standing, he propped his arms on the fence rail. His gaze took her in from head to toe, and she found herself suddenly self-conscious. The attraction between them had become undeniable.
“I came to see you coach.” Was there any other reason?
“Most people come to watch the game.” His teasing tone warmed her cheeks.
Oh, yeah. The game.
“Oh, is there going to be a game going on, too?” She stuck her tongue out at him.
They laughed, just as the band struck up.
She glanced at the sea of red in one section of the bleachers, with the setting sun glinting off the gold and silver instruments.
“Well, that’s my cue.” Garrett seemed almost disappointed. “The team’s about to run out. Normally, I’d run with them, but I can’t this time.”
He patted the hardware securing his leg from further injury.
“It’s OK. Go do your coaching thing. Don’t worry about me.” She winked.
Micara stood at the fence a few more moments before taking a seat. Her reaction to seeing Garrett had confounded her, but the attraction between them had grown stronger each time they were together—which had been almost every day since they’d met a little over two weeks ago. For the first time in her life, Micara felt genuinely connected to someone. She’d never dreamed it would happen this soon. Her relationship with P.J.—such as it was—had developed over several years. But everything felt so natural with Garrett. In just two weeks, she was drawn to him. Garrett was fast becoming an important part of her life.
“Micara, is that you?”
She spotted her best friend, Connie, and smiled. “The one and only.”
Connie shifted a baby to her other hip and came to stand next to Micara.
“Whose adorable baby is this?” Micara touched the tiny hand of the baby girl. The infant was dressed in a Sweet Home pillowcase dress—one Micara recognized as MeMaw’s handiwork—and wore a bow in her hair that was almost the same size as her head.
“This is my sister’s little girl, Brynn. I’ve told you about her.”
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t realize she’d grown so big.”
“She’s a year old now.” Connie sat on the front row bleacher and put Brynn on her lap. “Debbie lets me have her at least one day a week to get my little girl fix. Having only boys takes its toll on me. I need more than racecars and video games. I need dolls and dresses, too.”
Micara laughed at her frazzled friend. Connie’s boys were a handful, but she loved them more than life and sang the praises of her little boys often.
The announcer’s voice came over the speaker, requesting a moment of silence and then introducing the person singing the national anthem.
When they sat again, Micara turned to her friend. “Maybe it’s time for another baby?”
Connie smiled and kissed the top of her niece’s head. “We’ve talked about it. But what if I end up with another boy?”
“You’d love it either way.”
Connie smiled and nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I have the sweetest boys ever.” She squinted and leaned forward, looking at something in the distance. “Speaking of my sweet boys. Look at Jax acting the fool over there.”
At the end of the row of bleachers, Jax and several other little boys were drinking soda and then spitting it onto the ground. From a distance, it seemed to be a contest to see who could spit the farthest.
“Jax!” Connie yelled. He didn’t hear her. “Ugh, looks like I need to go over there. Could you hold Brynn for a minute?”
Connie thrust the wiggly baby girl into Micara’s arms before she could answer.
Brynn fussed a little but calmed down when the band started playing.
“You like the music?” Micara bounced the little one on her knee.
“Sic.” Brynn attempted to repeat the word, but only the last syllable formed. She clapped hands a few times and pointed with slobbery fingers.
Brynn was still mesmerized by the loud horns and drums as Connie returned a few minutes later. But when she saw her aunt, her hands sprang up, and a drool-filled smile crossed her face.
“Thank you. I scolded Jax good. Told him if he couldn’t remember his manners in public, then he would have to stay with Jonah. He hated that idea.” She sat back down and shook her head. “Spitting soda. Good grief. Sometimes I wonder about that boy.”
“He’s precious, Connie. All boys that age do silly pranks like that.”
“You’re right. I need to learn to relax. So what brings you out to the game?”
Micara’s smile was big. And it wasn’t about to budge anytime soon. “You see the head coach out there, the one with the leg brace?”
“Coach Hearth? Yeah, we know him.”
“Well, we’re kinda seeing each other.” Kinda? They were much more than kinda.
Connie’s face lit up. “Oh, wow, that is so fantastic. I’ve wanted you to find someone for so long. Is it love?”
Taken aback, she stared at her friend for a moment and then at Garrett. He moved along the sidelines—at a slow pace, but a lot better than when they’d first met. The limp wasn’t all that noticeable.
L
ove?
Their relationship had barely started, but the idea didn’t sound at all crazy. In fact, it seemed a real possibility.
8
Garrett showed up at the Sweet Home banquet without his brace. He could never be sure, but his knee felt solid this evening. Having Gabriel “take care” of him had been excellent therapy because he ended up doing almost everything himself; and since he’d returned to his own home, he’d continued to be self-sufficient. Never slowing down was the best therapy ever.
Joy Pendleton rounded one of the red-and-white cloth-covered tables at the community center. If he didn’t know the school’s colors were red and white, he’d mistake this banquet for a Valentine’s Day party. Along the far side of the room was a long table for the guests of honor. Those seats would be filled with Sweet Home residents who had gone on to achieve greatness in various careers and philanthropic endeavors. A western author, several war heroes, an actress, a violinist—and a professional football player. All of them had in common that they lived elsewhere now. Not one of their achievements happened while living in Sweet Home. They broke out of this one-horse town.
Why couldn’t he?
He needed a refill. The drink table sat between two pillars, so he headed in that direction. The whole place glittered, including the ceiling. The complete opposite of what he felt inside.
“Could I get you a refill?” Joy’s cheerful voice and bright smile were a balm to his bitter soul.
“Yes, th—” He stopped short as Joy passed by him and took Hank Barnes’s glass. Her eyes twinkled like the lights that decorated the drink table.
Well, that was awkward.
A pair of hands covered his eyes, and everything fell dark.
“Guess who?” He recognized the voice—and her sweet, earthy fragrance.
“Give me a hint?” He’d play with her a bit.
“A brown-eyed girl you met not too long ago.”
“Hmmm…Kellie Corcoran?” He named the Sweet Home actress who’d made it big.
“You wish. Guess again.”
