by Impulsive
"Anyone here know an Alan Crumrine?" the first officer inquired.
Danvers stepped forward. "Yes, sir. He's our kicker. I'm Coach Danvers. Has Alan been arrested or something?"
"No, sir. There's been an incident, and we need to notify his family. Also, he was driving a car registered to a Jessica Myers. We need to locate her, too."
"I'm right here," Jess said, approaching closer. "If that's what's wrong, Alan didn't steal my car. I loaned it to him a little while ago."
"Ma'am." The policeman nodded toward her, tipping his cap. "I'm afraid your car is being impounded, pending an investigation. It'll be a few days, at least, before we can release it to you."
"But, why? What's this all about?" Jess questioned with a frown. "Was there an accident? Was Alan cited?"
"Does he need bail? Or a lawyer?" Danvers asked.
By now, some of the players had emerged from the locker room and were milling around curiously.
"Don't tell me he's not going to be able to play this weekend," one groaned. "We're short-handed already."
"Yeah," another fellow added, "and Miller can punt, but he can't kick worth a darn, and he's our only back-up kicker. No offense, Miller, but it's the truth."
"I'd suggest your punter bone up real fast, then," the officer told them gravely, "because Mr. Crumrine won't be playing for the Knights again."
The color drained from Jess's face. Ty grabbed her from behind. "Oh, God! How badly is he hurt?"
"He's dead, ma'am," the man replied. "I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, but there's no easy way to say it."
"How?" Ty queried. "A traffic accident, I suppose?"
"As far as we can tell, he was the victim of a drive-by shooting."
Jess inhaled on a gasp, her color fading even more.
"We can't tell you any more at this point, but we'll be investigating further. Meanwhile, we need to notify his next of kin. He had his team membership on him, along with his driver's license, which led us here after no one answered at his home address. But his I.D. didn't list any other names or addresses for close family."
"Those would be listed on his personnel record," Danvers said weakly, as shocked as the rest of the team. "I'll show you up to the office."
The two officers followed Danvers, as others stood dumbly, like a small herd of mute cattle. Finally, the murmurs began, and built, as the players voiced their stunned disbelief.
Ty led Jess to a bench and lowered her onto it. "Put your head between your knees, hon," he urged. "It'll get the blood flowing to your head again."
She fought the hand he pressed to the back of her head. Tears choked her as she exclaimed softly, "Somebody please tell me this is all a bad dream—that I'll wake up and none of this will be real. Oh, God, Ty! Not Alan. Not sweet, gullible Alan, with all his wisecracks and practical jokes."
"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm having trouble believing it, too. Lord, it's like this whole damned team is living under a jinx. Some sort of weird witch's spell or something. It's just been one disaster on top of another. And it scares the hell out of me to think you might have been driving that car. That you could have been the one shot and killed."
"I should never have loaned it to him," she said. "If I hadn't, he'd probably still be alive."
"If that's the case, then Danvers should never have sent him on that errand to begin with," Ty injected. "No, Jess, there's just no way to foresee these things, especially something as unpredictable as a drive-by shooting. It's just that we feel so helpless at times like this, that we can't help but wonder if it could have been avoided."
She gave a shuddering sob. "I suppose so."
His arm tightened around her shoulders. "C'mon, love. Let's go home. I don't know about you, but I hate crying in public, and if I have to watch you very much longer, I'm going to sit down and bawl beside you."
That night, after Ty had plied her with wine and a long soak in the hot tub, and tucked her into bed, Jess's nerves finally began to unwind. Unfortunately, her mind wouldn't follow suit. Her thoughts kept leaping back to Alan. "Did I tell you he actually kicked ten goals in succession today, for the first time? I was so proud of him, and he was on top of the world. Full of himself, and rightly so, and demanding his reward—to know what WAGARA meant."
"Did you tell him?"
Jess smiled sadly. "Yes. Then I gave him my hat. That's how I'll remember him, just as I last saw him, I suppose. Strutting off, wearing that stupid cap like it was some kind of jeweled crown he'd won." She started to cry again. "Damn! It's not fair, Ty! He was so young! He had his whole life ahead of him!"
He gathered her tenderly into his arms and held her until she finally cried herself out and drifted off to sleep.
In the wake of Alan's death, Tom Nelson immediately apologized to Jess for their earlier tiff. He showed up at Ty's house the next morning. "Honey, when I think that could have been you in that car instead of Alan, why it just sends chills up my spine," he told her, giving her a big hug. "What's the matter with the world today? Is everyone going crazy? Why, it's not even safe to walk out and get your mail anymore!"
Jess, her eyes still red and swollen from crying, hugged him back. "I know, Tommy. It's awful. I feel just terrible about Alan. He was such a good kid, with loads of potential."
"Uh... what about your car? I hear it's been impounded."
"So they tell me, but I'm not sure I'd ever be able to drive it again when they do release it. Not after..."
"I understand, Jessie. So, what are you going to do for transportation?"
"That's where I come in, at least for the time being," Ty spoke up. "In a few days, when Jess is up to it, we can see if her insurance company will cover some of the cost of a replacement. Then Jess can shop around for a new car."
"Have you heard anything else from the police?" Tom asked. "Have they caught the guys who did this?"
Ty shook his head. "Not a word, have you?"
"No, but Alan's parents have arrived from Pennsylvania. We're trying to set up a team memorial service before they take his body home to Erie. Most likely, it will be some time tomorrow, probably early afternoon. I'll let you know."
Tom turned to Jess. "I guess this just proves all over again how suddenly those we love can be taken from us, and it made our little spat the other day seem so ridiculous by comparison. I hope you'll forgive me, Jess. I didn't mean half of what I said then. I've just been under a lot of stress lately, with Anita and all."
Jess nodded. "It's all right, Tommy."
"When I told you I didn't want you coaching Alan anymore, I certainly never meant for anything this horrible to happen," he went on. "Sometimes you really do have to be careful what you ask for, I guess. What a shame it all ended this way, but at least you won't be hanging around the team and the stadium so much. With all the disasters that have taken place lately, involving the Knights, I'll feel better knowing you're nowhere near, should any other tragedy arise."
"I'll still be coming to the games, though, to root the others on," Jess told him. "Hopefully, in the future, to more victories than calamities."
Almost happy to be consigned to the rank of spectator again, Jess was supremely surprised when Coach Danvers and one of the team owners approached her and Ty at the end of Alan's memorial service. "Jess, I believe you've met Keith Forsyth."
Jess shook the man's hand. "Mr. Forsyth. It's good of you to come today. Alan would have been honored, I'm sure."
"It's the least I could do," Forsyth commented gravely.
Danvers spoke up again. "Jess, I realize this isn't the time or place, but what we have to propose won't wait. We'd like to offer you the kicking position with the Knights."
Ty's jaw sagged in surprise. Jess felt as if she'd just had the air punched out of her. As they stood, too stunned to speak, Danvers added hastily, "It's what Alan would have wanted, I think."
"But... is that allowed?" Jess stammered. "For a woman to play on a pro team?"
"It would undoubtedly be a first," Ty said, his mind reel
ing. "Knowing Jess's skill, I certainly wouldn't object. It's for certain we need a good kicker, and she's the best. But some of the other guys might not cotton to the idea too well."
"We've considered all that, and we've gone over the rules with a fine-tooth comb. There is nothing that states that a woman cannot join a professional football team," Forsyth alleged. "In fact, the equal rights people will probably dance in the streets over this. Also, we've already asked some of the team members how they'd feel about it. The majority agree with you, Ty. Acquainted with Jess and her kicking ability, most are in favor of the idea."
"That's all well and good, but it's still so... unconventional," Jess claimed, for lack of another word. "I'm just not sure the world is ready for a female football player."
"As I said, I think Alan would approve heartily," Danvers repeated. "He idolized you, Jess."
Jess was all the more confused. "In some way, I do feel I owe him. He was driving my car when he was killed, after all."
"Now, Jess, let's not go through all that again," Ty told her. "You're not responsible for what happened to him."
"Suppose I did take the job," Jess suggested thoughtfully. "Would I sign a contract, like anyone else?"
"Of course," Forsyth said. "If it meets with your approval, we're prepared to offer you the same salary and bonuses Alan had."
"Could we stipulate that half of the money be donated to set up a college fund in Alan's name?" Jess proposed.
Forsyth's eyes widened in wonder. "Jess, that's more than generous, but you don't have to do that. No one would expect you to give up half your earnings."
"That's the only way I'll agree," she insisted. "Otherwise, it's no deal."
"We accept," Danvers said hastily, "and thank you." He grabbed her hand, pumping it up and down with grateful vigor. "I don't know where we'd have found another kicker of your caliber on such short notice. If you'll drop by my office this afternoon, I'll have that contract ready for you to sign, and we'll find a uniform to fit you. You will be ready to play this Sunday, I hope."
"Jitters and all," she promised, even now second-guessing her rash decision. "Tommy is going to have a conniption fit."
"Tom Nelson?" Forsyth inquired. When Jess nodded, he added, "He's already had it, while voicing his objections very loudly and succinctly. The owners and the coaches got together this morning to discuss hiring you, and it was a wonder we didn't have to scrape your godfather off the ceiling tile. However, he was outvoted, and he'll just have to learn to live with it."
Ty chuckled. "Well, there goes your truce, Jess. Welcome back to the team. I just have one question. Does this make you a Knight, a Dame, or a Lady?"
CHAPTER 18
By Sunday, Jess was a nervous wreck, damning herself for having signed that contract. Playing soccer for OSU in a partially filled stadium had never sent her into a tailspin, but now, for the first time, she was getting a good taste of stage fright. Try as she might, she could not block from her mind that she would be kicking in a pro game broadcast on national TV—and if she screwed up, thousands of people would see it. Moreover, anyone who realized she was a woman would expect her to make a fool of herself on the field. They were probably making book on it at this very moment.
Not that the Knights were advertising the fact that they had just hired the first female kicker in the history of the NFL. On the contrary, they had simply listed her on the roster as number 11, J.D. Myers, kicker, and offered no further information as to her identity or background. This, in itself, would no doubt confound the sports announcers to no end. As a rule, they had access to all the players' statistics, everything from previous playing experience to personal data. But not in this instance, for which Jess was extremely grateful. For the time being, she would just as soon remain as anonymous as possible, in case she made a royal ass of herself.
As she took her place on the sidelines, Jess was thankful to be outfitted in a team uniform, the better to blend in with her fellow Knights. Her jersey was even loose enough, and long enough, to disguise the small bumps on her chest and her feminine derriere. As for her hair, it wasn't any longer than many of the players wore theirs, and she'd already mashed it down with her helmet, giving it a flat, mussed, unisex appearance. With any luck, she'd pass for one of the guys, no questions asked.
Another thing adding to her stress level was that her mother and stepfather would be among the spectators this afternoon. Claudia had done everything but have a seizure when Jess had informed her of this latest development. After ranting and raving on the phone for a full half hour, Claudia had firmly announced that she and John would be present on Sunday to watch Jess play.
"I want to be on hand when they haul your broken body off to the emergency ward," Claudia had claimed direly. "They'll probably need me to sign a consent for your medical treatment."
"Mom, the kicker rarely gets hurt during a game," Jess had rebutted. "It's one of the safest positions on the team, which is why a kicker can be smaller than the other members and still get the job done."
"Are those big galoots on the other team going to take it easy on you?" Claudia had persisted. "Will they know you're just a girl?"
"Just a girl?" Jess had echoed peevishly. "Mom! Get with the program. These are the nineties. Women can do anything and be anything they want, as long as they're equally qualified. And no, none of the Ravens will be aware that I'm a woman. Not if I can help it. The last thing I need is to have them all hooting and snickering at me."
"Maybe it would be better if they did know," Claudia had insisted mockingly. "If they're doubled over laughing, they can't attack you, can they?"
Jess knew that unless the Baltimore Ravens held the Knights scoreless, she would be called upon to kick for her team, either in a point-after attempt or to try for a field goal. Naturally, she didn't want the Knights to lose, but even more, she didn't want to be responsible for it happening. Especially since this game was being dedicated to Alan. Consequently, she was stuck between the proverbial rock and the hard place, with no one to blame but herself.
The Ravens won the coin toss and deferred, kicking off to the Knights at the beginning of the game. Baltimore's defense had been weak all season, so it came as no surprise that the Knights scored a touchdown on their first offensive drive, though it took several plays to accomplish it.
Jess's moment had come, much sooner than she would have wished. She stood immobile, until Danvers slapped her on the shoulder, jerking her out of her stupor. "Go get 'em, kid!" he told her, giving her a push onto the field.
She trotted toward Ty on wobbly legs, praying she wouldn't trip over her own feet. Upon reaching him, she blurted, "I'm going to throw up."
Ty laughed. "No you won't. You're going to pretend this is practice. Just you and me, like the first time. I'll hold for you, and you're going to ram that ball straight through the uprights, dead center." He winked. "I'd give you a kiss for luck, but that'd really set tongues to wagging, not to mention we'd probably get called for delay of game. Now, get set."
She measured off her paces, mentally marked her spot, and took a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, I can do this," she muttered. "If Alan could do it, so can I."
For the space of a split instant, she closed her eyes and imagined the ball sailing cleanly over the bar. The ball was snapped. Ty had it positioned perfectly. One, two, three strides. Jess's toe connected with the ball, wedging beneath it and sending it soaring between the goalposts. In her zeal, she'd put so much power behind the kick that the ball flew past the end zone into the section of seats beyond it.
Jess barely had time to heave a huge sigh of relief before her team mates converged on her with a barrage of traditional congratulatory whacks on the back and head. Jess, her helmet now pushed down over her eyes, was helpless to do anything but go with the flow as they herded her off the field—half carrying, half shoving her along with them.
When she was safely on the sidelines once more, she jerked her helmet off and glared at the bunch of them as she f
lexed her shoulders beneath the bulky pads. "Geez, you guys! Find another way to express your enthusiasm, will you? Not that I don't appreciate your accolades, but my chiropractor is going to be the richest man in town if you don't tone it down some."
"Yeah," Ty agreed with a mile-wide grin. "After all, Jess is just a little fella! Besides, I'm going to be super p.o.'d if she ends up in traction and my love life goes on the skids."
Her opening debut over, Jess was much more calm as she watched the game continue. When next she ran onto the field for a point-after, she did so with conviction. Just before half-time, she got her first chance at a field goal, a forty-yard attempt. Again, Ty was to spot the ball for her.
"Drill it, babe," he commanded confidently. "Show 'em how it's supposed to be done."
"This one's for you, Alan," she whispered. "Up and over."
The ball arched high into the air, well above the reach of the Ravens' special team's men who would have tried to bat it down, to rocket through the uprights. This time, when Jess's teammates picked her up and carted her off the field on their shoulders, she had no complaints.
The Knights dominated throughout the game. Altogether, they scored seven touchdowns and points-after, and three field goals, racking up fifty-eight points to the Ravens' seventeen. It was a decisive win, one they could all be proud of.
Only later, when they convened at Ty's house for an impromptu celebration, did Jess learn what the sports announcers had said about her. Corey was next to bursting, as she declared, "Oh, Jess! I wish you could have heard them! They were going crazy trying to figure out who you were and where you'd come from so suddenly. It was as if you'd materialized out of thin air."
"What were you doing? Listening to a radio in the stands?"
Corey nodded excitedly. "Yeah, one of those that pulls in the TV audio stations. Girl, when you kicked that first point- after and the football went clear past the end zone, those guys went totally berzerk. All three of them agreed they'd never seen anyone with such a powerful kick. Then, when you made that forty-yarder with room to spare, they really came undone. It's for sure they're going to be beating the bushes trying to find out everything they can about you."
