Calytrix

by Chris Keniston

  “I’ve been doing a little noodling around.” Craig’s tone seemed considerably more uplifting than a moment ago. “We could write our own ticket. And we could do it any way we want. What do you say we sit down and do the math?”

  Zane glanced at the dashboard, then scanned the scenery along the route. Turning around now made no sense. Hart Land was just on the other side of Lawford. The rest of this conversation would probably take longer than the drive through town. “I think it’s a great thought, but face to face may have to wait a couple of weeks.”

  “Weeks?”

  “Yeah. I’m on a little trip to spend some time with my grandfather. I’d suggest we do this online, but where I’m going prides itself on lousy internet service.”

  Craig laughed loudly on the other end. “Good grief, man. Where the heck are you going?”

  Back in time were the first words to come to mind, but he opted to keep that thought to himself. “Those cabins I told you about on Lake Lawford that belong to my grandfather’s friend, the General. I’ll start tinkering with some ideas and we’ll touch base when I get back.”

  “That’ll have to do. If you’re hanging out with the military grandfather, send him my best. Always did like that guy. So much more colorful than my grandfather, the retired CPA.”

  Zane didn’t doubt that one bit. He could only imagine the stories Gramps and his cronies couldn’t share. “Will do. Take care.”

  The call disconnected as Zane turned into the entrance to Hart Land. Already feeling better after the long drive, the sight of the majestic white Victorian and the rolling hills beyond only added to the growing sense of calm that had settled over him. Sliding into a space in front of the main house, the roaring sounds of laughter and cheers had him looking for the source. The sight of a friendly football game on the open grass made him smile. Yep, coming to the lake had been his best idea in a long time.

  Suitcase in hand, he slammed the trunk of his car shut and found himself slowly gravitating toward the makeshift field. From what he could see, the two teams consisted of a handful of adults and a greater number of teens. Two players in particular caught his eye. The quarterback, who had one heck of an arm, and the receiver with a long blonde ponytail and legs to match, who’d failed to connect with the ball so far.

  Inching his way closer, his view of the quarterback improving, he realized the magic arm belonged to a girl. Letting out a slow short whistle, he chided himself for making assumptions. Ball hiked, the gal dropped back, brought her hand up, and once again sent the pigskin sailing in a perfect spiral. Brother, was the kid good. At the other end of the field, the receiver went long, hooked left and, feet lifting off the ground as though she had springs, pulled the ball out of the air. Within seconds, several yards shy of the coveted touchdown markers, the remainder of the defensive players took down the receiver in a massive pile of arms and legs.

  The slaps on the back, smiles, laughs, and occasional hoot or holler, made Zane smile even wider. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed being a spectator so much. As the two teams huddled, determining their next move, Zane noticed the folks moving back and forth across the way, setting up multiple tables with mounds of picnic ware, from the mandatory red checkered tablecloths, to the massive bowls and platters of what probably contained homemade salads and meats. His stomach growled.

  Midway between the main house and the mealtime spread, a brunette in a flowing skirt carrying one of many large coolers stopped, set the thing on the ground and, retrieving her phone from her pocket, took a call. Despite enjoying the game, he couldn’t in good conscience let the girl who looked wispy enough to blow away with a strong wind carry that cooler the rest of the way.

  His suitcase in hand, the roar of the game kicked up again and he glanced one last time at the game. The quarterback sank back a few feet, barely scanned the field when her gaze fell on the same open receiver who’d caught most of the plays so far. The teen lifted her arm, and doing a full body pivot, sent the ball flying. Wow. He wouldn’t be surprised if that ball made it clear across the county.

  Already moving toward the brunette, Zane could tell the quarterback had seriously overshot her mark this time. The ball was still sailing high, the receiver was scrambling back in hopes of making the connection, and the pretty brunette was making her way back to the house sans the heavy cooler. It took another short second for his brain to finish the picture. Blast!

  Dropping his bag, he sprinted forward. If he calculated correctly, the long-legged receiver might catch the ball, but not before falling ass backwards over the cooler just sitting in the middle of the end zone—unless he could get there first.

  ***

  Feet spread, hands on her knees, Callie couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. Somehow a casual Sunday afternoon at Hart Land with family, friends, and some of her students had turned into a full-on game of football—tackle and all—and she was loving it. Probably even more than she would the feast Lucy and the others had prepared. Her entire life, of all her siblings and cousins, she’d been the one who loved not only watching sports, but playing. And not the girly version, but playing by the same rules the boys did. After all, there were no girly rules for the rest of life’s competitions. She was just dang lucky that she could combine her love of sports with helping teens arm themselves for the rest of their lives.

  But the best part of the afternoon was the laughter coming from Callie’s students. Even though this pick up game was as competitive as any NFL game, the lack of pressure for championships, or scholarships or anything other than an afternoon of fun was making a world of difference. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her team players simply enjoying the game. Even Deidra, who had hardly smiled since having to deal with the obstacles to an athletic scholarship, was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

  And here it comes again. There wasn’t a sport that Deidra wasn’t organically gifted at. The same way that she could count on Deidra’s throws hitting their mark with or without a cutoff man over eighty percent of the time on the ball field, she knew this toss of the football was going to be a perfect spiral on its way to her. What Callie hadn’t counted on was quite so much oomph. Already she could tell the thing was flying way too high and strong. Pushing off one foot, she raced back, keeping her eye on the ball. If she didn’t lose sight of the spinning pigskin, she could do this. Adrenaline soared. The ball began its drop. Her heart banged against her rib cage. She could do this. Another few steps and…oomph. Suddenly, she was sideswiped by a moving mountain. Her feet lifting off the ground, she slammed into a firm, yet soft, surface and felt the reverberation from impact against an even harder immovable surface. What the heck?

  “You okay?”

  Blinking, Callie felt the vise on her middle loosen and rolled out of its hold. It took a few seconds to realize she was on the ground, lying on an arm. A man’s arm. No, nix that. She was lying beside a man whose arm happened to be splayed out underneath her. A man who’d held her as tightly as the football he clutched against him with his other arm.

  “Coach!” Deidra’s voice and a multitude of others rang out around her.

  “Clear the way.” That was Cindy. “Let me see what’s going on.”

  “She’s not a dog,” someone muttered quietly after the veterinarian’s approach. If Callie hadn’t had the wind knocked out of her, she would have followed the voice and given the girl a piece of her mind and then some for picking on her sister.

  “I’m okay,” Callie managed to mutter, pushing herself into an upright position, shaking out the fog, and running through the situation in her mind. She was going for the ball when… The ball. Her gaze fell on the man still laid out beside her. “Are you okay?”

  “Just peachy,” he mumbled, not moving.

  “Good.” She sprang to her feet a tad more unstable than she would have liked. “What the hell were you thinking? If I’d wanted help going for the ball, I would have asked for it. And I certainly woul
d not have suggested someone mow me over like a plow in a hay field.”

  “I didn’t mow you over.” The man blinked and lifted himself into a sitting position. No wonder he’d knocked the wind out of her. The guy really was built like a strong, lean mountain. “I saved you from coolerside.”

  “Coolerside?”

  His thumb waved over his shoulder and then, looking from the direction he’d pointed around to the other, he made the same gesture with his other thumb, pointing toward the house. “Someone left a cooler in the end zone. If I hadn’t intervened, you would have gone heels over ponytail atop the cooler and possibly broken something.”

  Hands fisted at her side, she located the offending cooler. It was indeed in the middle of the end zone and right where she’d been running after the ball. Still. “You could have just yelled to me.”

  The guy lifted one brow at her as he rose to his feet. “If you weren’t concentrating on that ball hard enough to not notice me yell then I underestimated you.”

  “Excuse me?” Who was this guy?

  “A good athlete can ignore the roar of the crowd. You were focused on the ball.”

  Now she didn’t know if she should call him out for being an idiot or thank him for calling her a good athlete.

  “I’m sorry, Coach C.” Poor Deidra looked beside herself. “I shouldn’t have made you run for it.”

  “Nonsense, Deidra. You’ve got a good arm. Never apologize for that.”

  “You have a great arm,” the stranger chimed in. “Really glad I got to see you play.”

  “Thank you.” Deidra beamed up at him like a lighthouse in the fog. Whether it was for the compliment or that fact that the guy stood over six feet and had piercing blue eyes to rival the sky on a cloudless day, she wasn’t sure. “Are you joining us for the food?”

  The man glanced across the way to the tables that had been set up. “Well, I—”

  “Oh, my heavens.” Poppy came running up from the direction of the house. “The pastor called. He needed a phone number and I didn’t want to lug the cooler back. With everyone running around at the other end of the Point, I didn’t think it would be in the way. I am so sorry.”

  “I’m fine,” Callie repeated for what she suspected might not be the last time today.

  Poppy ran her hands gently along Callie’s arms. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at her baby sister. Anyone else and she might have given them a tongue lashing for the foolish move, but Poppy had too gentle a soul for that. Her concern for her family was anything but superficial. “I’m fine.”

  “And you?” Her frazzled sister spun around to face the stranger. “It was very kind of you to break Callie’s fall.”

  “That wasn’t quite how I’d meant for things to go down,” he hissed in a breath at his choice of words, “but you’re welcome.”

  “What in blue blazes is all this commotion?” The General marched his way up to the gathering crowd. He scanned Callie from head to toe before turning to look at the man who had started it all. “Zane? You’re early, son.”

  Early?

  “Your grandfather isn’t coming for another week.”

  “Ah. Yes, sir. I went for a drive and here I am.”

  It took her grandfather a half second to process and sprout a smile. Slapping the man’s shoulder and shaking his hand, the General seemed familiar with the man named Zane. “Glad to have you. Did you bring a bag?”

  “Oh.” Zane looked up. “I guess I dropped it when I dashed over here. I’d better go get it.”

  By now the General’s two dogs, Lady and Sarge, had pranced up beside him, carefully sniffing at Zane without leaving their favorite master’s side. Satisfied he wasn’t a threat to their territory, the golden retrievers plopped their rumps down and stared up at him.

  “No need.” The General waved off Zane’s intent to retrieve his bag himself. “We’re just about to start lunch. Join us and I’ll have George take your bag to your cabin.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put him out.”

  “Nonsense. I hear you took a good tumble. Sounds to me like enough work for one day.”

  And, as with everything else, what the General said became so.

  Chapter Three

  Zane had no idea where his day had spun out of control. He was fairly sure it began the moment he drove out of the city, or maybe the minute he paused to watch the friendly football game, or when he caught the prettiest receiver he’d ever seen, or perhaps later when the General insisted he join everyone for an afternoon of family fun with friends. Whichever turned his expectations on its heels, he could certainly understand why his grandfather enjoyed time on the lake.

  For the better part of the afternoon, he’d felt like he’d walked onto the sound stage of a mid-century movie. The last century. A time when life was nearly perfect—or at least portrayed that way. Not only was the food delicious and the weather spectacular, without a cell phone or snarky teen in sight, the day truly felt as though he’d stepped back in time. Back to a time when life was simple. He hadn’t heard so many sirs, ma’ams, please and thank you from the younger crowd since his own childhood. And who knew playing bocce could be as seductive as the slot machines in Vegas?

  “Another game?” one of the dozen or so energetic teens asked.

  “Nope. I’m done for the day.” A few of his muscles that had grown used to sitting at a desk for ten or twelve hours a day were beginning to protest his sudden fondness for lunging and rolling. Rather loudly.

  Dusting his hands together, he waved at the girls and scanned the distance for General Hart’s granddaughter, the coach. There’d barely been time for introductions when the General had whisked him away and introduced him to what seemed like half a small town. There certainly had been no time to properly apologize for taking the woman down, even if it had been to soften the landing.

  Halfway to the house, he spotted her carrying a large platter and making her way up the hill. On an intersecting path, if he picked up his pace, he could catch up with her. At least this time there was no chance of a crashing collision.

  Just shy of the front porch, he caught up with his target. “Excuse me.”

  Callie turned, her smile quickly slipping. “Oh, hello.”

  He deserved that. “Let me get that for you.”

  Her gaze dropped to the single platter and back at him. “That won’t be necessary.” She righted to go inside and he reached out, touching her elbow. “If I may, I didn’t get a chance to apologize before.”

  Steps stilled, she waited for him to retreat his hand then dipped her chin in a brief gesture, signaling him to go on.

  “I really was trying to spare you a painful fall. If you’d gone over that cooler you could have easily broken a bone. My way, I took the brunt of the hit.”

  “It wouldn’t have been the first or last time I’d have taken a fall. I didn’t need you to save me then or now.”

  He didn’t doubt that. Still, he hadn’t been raised to stand by and do nothing. “Duly noted. If I promise not to do it again, will you accept my apology?”

  Her spine looked too straight for his liking. Studying him an extra minute, her shoulders relaxed and, exhaling heavily, she nodded then mumbled “apology accepted” and pivoted around to grab the door.

  “Shake on it?” He shoved his hand forwarding stopping her mid shift.

  The way her gaze lingered on his proffered hand, a person would think his grip was tainted with poison.

  “I won’t bite,” he urged. “Promise.”

  The little quip had the corners of her mouth tipping upward, exposing dimpled cheeks. Extending her hand, she took hold of his. “Very well. Forgiven.”

  His fingers easily folded around her hand. Liking the feel of it enveloped by his own larger grip, he had to force himself to release his hold and give her back her hand. “Thank you.”

  For a split second he remained in place, unsure of what to say next, wondering why it even mattered when the girl with the great
arm flung the porch’s screen door open.

  “Oh!” Callie gasped, stepping back and almost landing in his arms for the second time today.

  “Lucy’s ready to dole out desserts and I’m supposed to get a head count of who wants cake.”

  “None for me.” Callie shook her head.

  “Me neither.” Zane raised his hands palms out. “If I eat one more thing, I’m going to need a piano dolly to wheel me into the cabin.”

  The teen snickered. “I doubt that.”

  “Okay, maybe a small piano dolly,” he corrected with a smile.

  “It’s Lily’s double German chocolate,” the girl added, as though that somehow mattered.

  Closing her eyes, Callie blew out a long breath. “You’re killing me.”

  The girl laughed. “No shooting the messenger.”

  Another of the teens from the team came hurrying up the walk and stopped short at the door. “Are we really having Lily’s chocolate cake?”

  Both Callie and Deidra nodded.

  “Sweet.” The kid spun around and darted off, shouting to a huddle of girls at the end of the path. “Lily’s cake is for dessert.”

  Apparently, there was something special about Lily and her chocolate cake.

  “I’d better go back and tell Lucy to cut a lot of small pieces.” Deidra opened the door again and held it for the others to pass through.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?” Callie asked him over her shoulder.

  “If you like chocolate cake, Lily’s is the bomb.” The girl shrugged one shoulder, letting the door slam shut once they were all inside. “Actually, anything she makes is the bomb. Except the fruit cake. I don’t get why anyone likes fruit cake.”

  He followed the two ladies through the bright spacious lobby. “It’s very popular in England.”

  “They can keep it.” Deidra almost snorted her disapproval.

  He chuckled softly, not seeing any point in telling her he agreed wholeheartedly.