“Did I lose you again?” Amanda looked across the table, one eyebrow raised at a slight angle.
Dane tried to shake off the convoluted train of thought in his head. “No, not really.”
“Not really?”
“No. Oily terrapins can make you happy. I got that part.”
“Or focused, or more relaxed, or other things,” she said softly.
“Can it fix stuff?” Dane wondered out loud before he even realized he’d verbalized the thought in his heart.
“Well, I think it can. The brain is an amazing thing. I know you’re worried about Cole, but he’s in good hands. We just have to trust the process and have faith for his healing. Like I said back at the ballpark, there’s a God thing at work here. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
At that, Dane lifted his head and looked up at her. “I don’t either. But I don’t know if I believe the God thing, either.”
“Why not?” Amanda asked softly.
He might as well be honest. She was putting her time and effort into Cole’s recovery. Amanda at least deserved straightforward answers so she knew the full extent of the mess she was aligning herself with.
“This was supposed to be my chance.”
“Like in baseball? This season? Are you hoping to win a championship?”
Dane shrugged. “You’re not a true competitor if you don’t start every season hoping to win a championship. But no, I meant with Cole. Having him here was supposed to be my chance to build a relationship with him. To finally man up and do the dad thing. To coach my kid in ball like I never took the time to do before.”
He paused, but decided to finish coming clean before she could interject and keep him from getting it off his chest.
“I haven’t been there for him. I let his mom and stepdad raise him. His stepdad coached T-ball. I was always out chasing a dream, or women, or whatever was in front of me that day. Two and a half years ago, I got a Christmas card from their family. It was picture-perfect—his mom, stepdad, twin half-sisters, and there was my son standing right behind them. In their Christmas letter, it mentioned that Cole had been attracting attention from Major League Baseball scouts and he was trying to decide if he wanted to play college ball or go straight to the minors. I broke down in tears. I didn’t even know. I’d missed it all. By then, I’d retired from the league and was coaching at a junior college in California. I called my cousin Rigo, telling him what a mess I’d made of my whole life and I needed a change. He told me about this job. The coach had left Provident College after the hurricane—they’d cancelled the season and everything was a mess here too. It seemed fitting. I needed to start over and so did this team. After I got the job, the first recruiting trip I made was back to Chicago to recruit Cole. I wanted the chance to coach my kid, and he actually said yes. But now it’s all ruined. He’s here, but he’s injured and not playing and I don’t even know how to be a dad or to fix this.”
Amanda reached across the table and laid her hands on top of Dane’s. He felt the curve of her fingertips graze the side of his knuckle and come to rest on the edge of his palm. Her touch was as light as the weight in his heart was heavy.
Dane stilled for a moment, thinking about the opposites at play and counting each slow breath.
“That’s a God thing too.”
He looked at her hands and his hands and then turned his gaze upward.
“What is?” he said.
“Restoring the broken. Rebuilding relationships. That’s maybe the biggest God thing of them all.”
FIRST KISS FIREWORKS
Chapter Four
"Why does technology always do this to me?" Amanda stood in front of her printer, willing it to function just by the sheer amount of frustration in her voice. It wasn't working. "Ugh. You hate me don't you?"
"Well no, not really. I enjoy working with you. Is there something I should know?" Gracie Garcia-Peoples laughed as she walked into Amanda's office. After completing her Master's in bilingual education last year at Provident College, Gracie had joined the education department staff as a part-time lecturer. She and Amanda had become fast friends both through their work in the department and the Faculty-Staff Bible study group that met on campus weekly.
"I just need to get this consent form printed off, but no, the printer of obnoxiousness is at it again, trying to foil every plan I have. I think that every Monday morning, the first thing I'm going to do when I walk in the building is to leave a requisition request for a new printer on Roger's desk. Eventually, budget or no budget, he'll cave."
"Ah, the old wear them down by being annoying trick?" Gracie turned around and waved behind her. "Email it to me, and I will print it for you. Vamonos."
Amanda ran to her computer and sent the quick email, then followed Gracie down the hall as she’d requested.
"Thank you for saving me from technology," Amanda said to her friend gratefully. "If I don't get rolling, I won't make it to Provident Medical on time, and I have to get this signed before the appointment starts."
Gracie took the last sheet of paper off the printer and handed the small stack to Amanda. "What on earth are you talking about? I heard you were staying here but that you weren’t on the schedule for anything this semester. What do you need consent forms for?"
"Good news travels fast, huh?"
"I know losing your funding and research trip like that had to be very disappointing. But at least you get some kind of a break. You were pretty burned out last semester, with all of your responsibilities. Between teaching and advising your group of thesis students and chairing the Student Judicial Affairs Committee, I honestly don't know how you kept your head above water. For some reason, last semester seem to just be supersized for you. I don't know why you had so many judicial affairs cases, or why none of your thesis students could get a break, but nothing seemed to be simple for you the last few months."
"I think this may wind up being my most complex term of all," Amanda said, lowering her voice just slightly.
Gracie leaned back, bracing herself on the edge of her desk. "No classes, no research, no grading, no teaching. You and I must have different definitions of the word complex, amiga."
Amanda took half a step backwards into the hallway. She looked right, she looked left. Stepping back into Gracie's office, Amanda quietly closed the door behind her.
"Okay... Now I'm worried. Is something going on? Do you need some help? You're the most open person I know. You don't keep secrets behind closed doors," Gracie said.
Amanda hesitated. She'd been thinking about this – about Dane's confession regarding his relationship with his son – since the minute he served it up in the restaurant. "Do you know the baseball coach?"
"Dane Vasquez?"
Amanda nodded.
"Sure I know him. His cousin Rigo is married to my sister Gloria."
"Are you serious?" Amanda couldn't keep the sound of surprise out of her voice.
"Yeah." Gracie waved her hand dismissively. "It's a Hispanic thing. And a small-town thing. We're all like a second cousin, twice-removed or somebody's aunt's cousin's brother. It's part of having big families and a tight-knit community."
"Okay, then never mind." She lifted the group of papers. "Thanks for printing this for me."
Gracie made it to the door in two swift steps. "Not so fast there, amiga." She leaned forward and pressed her hand on the door, trapping Amanda inside the office.
"Gracie, I'm gonna be late."
"Tough. Spill it. What are you talking about?"
"He just said something at dinner last night that made me think, that's all." Maybe if she kept it short and sweet, Gracie would let her out of the office. Don't give her anything, McGovern, and she will get tired of asking—just like Roger and those printer requests.
"Wait. Wait. Wait." Gracie's eyes popped open like a super-sized pancake.
Instantly, Amanda knew she'd taken the wrong approach. New plan. Stay silent. Don't give her any ammo.
"Dinner last
night? You had dinner with Dane?"
"Mmm-hmm." She could make sounds. That would be okay. That wouldn't violate the "don't say too much" plan. In reality, it was practically like saying nothing at all.
“You can’t just leave it at that.”
Amanda had seen the stare on Gracie’s face before...on Gracie’s mother, the Garcia family matriarch who owned Huarache’s, one of Port Provident’s most popular casual Mexican food restaurants. That look was genetic. And it was not going to be denied.
“I’m helping him with a project.” That was honest.
“Over dinner? At the faculty dining room?” A while back, Amanda and Gracie were discussing their siblings. Gracie mentioned that her older sister, Gloria, had missed her calling as an FBI interrogator. Perhaps Gloria wasn’t the only one in the family who had that calling.
Amanda pursed her lips. “No.”
“Oh, come on, Amanda!” Gracie rolled her eyes as she choked down a laugh. “You can’t keep a secret, and you know it. You talk about this all the time—about how your students rat you out for being a big softie. Have you ever been able to not give an extension on a project, no matter how ridiculous the excuse?”
Resistance was futile. Gracie spoke the truth.
“Fine. We ate at The Seahorse.”
Gracie nodded. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. There’s a big difference between a fancy seafood dinner at Porter’s and a twelve-inch pepperoni pizza at The Seahorse. So what’s the project?”
Cornered, Amanda conceded defeat. “His son Cole. Do you know what’s going on with him?”
“At Sunday dinner last week, Rigo mentioned that Cole’s grades last semester were bad and they haven’t cleared him to play again.”
“Right. He’s about to lose his scholarship.”
“But where do you come in? You’re not a tutor.”
Amanda shook her head. “He doesn’t need a tutor. We’re getting him a neuropsychological evaluation at Provident Medical today, and I am pretty sure the results are going to show memory deficits and executive function issues. And I just so happen to work with classroom accommodations and brain-based challenges in students.”
Gracie’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wow. I’ve talked about it in passing with Rigo a few times, but I never connected two and two together. I should have introduced you to him a long time ago.”
“Well, I was supposed to be on a plane for Europe today, so I wouldn’t have been able to help.”
Her colleague took in a deep breath. “Amanda, maybe that’s it. It’s a God thing. Maybe the door for the research closed, but this one opened.”
Amanda couldn’t deny the sensation in her gut as Gracie spoke the exact same words Amanda herself had said to Dane yesterday. It felt as though fireworks were going off, the spark of something greater than anything she could accomplish on her own.
A God thing.
“You think so?” Amanda fished for the definitive confirmation.
“He needs help, Amanda. He’s been told he’ll get better with time, and it’s not happening. Maybe with your insight and knowledge, you can get him on the path he needs to be on in order to turn this thing around.” Gracie shifted her weight from foot to foot. “But what about it is bothering you? Something was. Is it Dane?”
Amanda took a steadying breath. So much for the resolution not to say much. She’d wanted to keep her mouth shut, but her friend had just poked a hole in every single defense she had.
“Well, it’s crazy, but I used the exact words last night that you used—maybe it’s a God thing. He’d said that he had a rocky relationship with his son and he didn’t even know how to be a parent or to fix what was going on. I said that when we’re at the end of what we know to do, that’s when God can step in and restore. He just shut down after that. Changed the subject. Started talking about pizza and all the weird hole-in-the-wall places he ate while he was traveling on the road, playing with minor league baseball teams.”
Gracie leaned against the door. “He’s a good person, and he’s trying to make a fresh start here in Port Provident. I think he wants to leave his past baggage behind. But he’s the type who relies on one thing and one thing only—himself. There are no God things in his life. Only Dane things.”
Amanda let Gracie’s assessment settle for a moment. It made perfect sense.
“That helps.” She waved the consent document between the two of them. “But if I don’t get moving, he and Cole won’t be able to rely on me, either.”
“Understood.” Gracie stepped back from the door and put her hand on the knob, turning it slightly and cracking the door open. “If you need anything—advice, a listening ear, or just a supportive prayer—don’t hesitate to ask. Cole’s a good kid. I really hope you can help him.”
“I do too, Gracie. I’m going to give it my best shot.” Amanda stepped out into the hallway, then paused. “And then I’ll let God do the rest.”
“Don’t be nervous, son. You’ve taken lots of tests before. This is just another one. Nothing more, nothing less.” Dane squeezed Cole’s hand lightly. His son had been quiet all morning.
“I guess I want to know what’s going on—but if it’s bad news, like if it’s permanent or something, I don’t really want to know, you know?”
“I get it. I really do.” Dane understood Cole’s hesitation. He felt it himself. What if today was the last day they could say “with time, it’ll all get back to normal”? What if today was the day they found out things in Cole’s life would never be normal again?
What if today was the day they lost hope?
The heavy door to the quiet office opened with a click. Dane looked up from the oatmeal-colored wall he’d been staring down in a daze.
Amanda waved as she slipped inside. “I’m glad I caught you before you went in.”
Dane didn’t understand her whole “God thing” commentary from last night—how on earth could a brain injury be any kind of God thing?—but he couldn’t deny there was something calming about her presence. He just felt better when he was around her. Something about Amanda McGovern’s light spirit made him feel like things would be okay.
He knew that was most likely a misguided interpretation of some wishful thinking based on her area of teaching, but for now, it was a shred of hope. He was going to take what he could find.
She laid some papers on the table in front of Dane and Cole. “This is the consent form for how we’ll be working together. It will explain what we’re going to be doing, how we’re going to work together, how your privacy is governed, and what I’ll do with the information that’s collected. It’s not a very long document, but I need you to read and sign before we can officially work together.”
Cole picked up the document and began to scan it. “Do you have a pen?”
“I’ve got one in my purse somewhere. Read the forms carefully while I dig for it. I want you to feel like you understand and support how we’re going to work together.” She turned to Dane. “And while he’s got to be the one to sign it, since he’s eighteen, I’d like for you to read it too, so you understand everything as well.”
Amanda opened her purse wide and began to move the contents around. Dane picked up the papers as Cole read each one, then laid it back down on the table.
“Okay,” Dane said simply.
“You don’t have any questions?” Amanda asked, handing Cole the black ballpoint pen.
“No. I trust your recommendations. I don’t think you’d do anything that would hurt Cole’s chances of recovery.”
Amanda collected the pages that Cole had signed and initialed. “Not at all. These are low-intervention methods. They may help, they may not. But I don’t foresee a situation where they’d cause further problems.”
“Then let’s do it,” Cole said, his words underscored with conviction.
“Great. I believe in you, Cole.” Amanda handed one more paper to him. “This is the last form. It allows me to get access to your schedule and visit your professors on yo
ur behalf to help set up any accommodations you might need this coming semester.”
Cole scrawled his name at the bottom of the page with a flourish. “Cool. Thanks for helping me.”
Dane was blown away by how Cole was taking everything in stride today. In his late teens, Dane was running away from his problems without so much as a glance backward—a trait which led to the eventual estrangement between father and son. He wished he’d been one half the man back then that his son was today.
The door at the back of the waiting room opened. “Cole Vasquez? We’re ready. Come on back and let’s get started.”
A woman in a navy sweater twin-set and dress slacks beckoned at the patient.
“Good luck, Cole. Knock it out of the park.” Dane stood and leaned over to embrace his son. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. It felt rough and jagged—much like all of his emotions about this situation lately. Nothing had been easy or straightforward on this journey.
“I brought Cole to Port Provident with the intent of building a relationship with my son. All along, I thought the obstacle between us was me—was my ego, my pride, my desire to be a ball player,” Dane said as the door closed behind Cole. “Once I realized that and got it out of my way, I thought everything would be smooth. I never planned on anything like this. I never planned on loving this kid so much that it scared me. But I’m scared now. I’m scared for him. I’m scared for us. What if we never get to build the relationship I brought him here for?”
He closed his eyes.
Lightly, a hand slipped on his shoulder. The palm curved around the arch at the top of the arm. Long, narrow fingers came to rest down his bicep. The hand didn’t pat, it didn’t squeeze. It didn’t do anything besides just be.
For his whole life, stillness had infuriated Dane. He’d always been on the move, since long before he could even speak. His need for activity had led him to baseball very early in life.
But right now, the stillness seemed right.
Amanda hadn’t said a word, but somehow, she’d let Dane know she was there and he wasn’t struggling with his thoughts and his second guesses alone.
First Kiss Fireworks Page 4
