“Good kick, Xavier!” one of the other children yelled.
Coach Linda, Becka’s mom, waved to her. “Your son’s a natural! Hope he can stay on the team!”
She watched as her son, completely new to soccer, raced to the ball and took it down the field in short, perfect kicks. Or whatever you’d call it...dribbling, maybe? She was way short on soccer terminology.
She so wanted for Xavier to fit in, and truthfully she wanted to fit in with the community, too. During her early years with Xavier, scrambling with work and day care, sometimes struggling to find a place to live before she’d settled in with her aunt, she’d looked enviously at families watching their kids play sports, kids with not only parents but grandparents and aunts and uncles to cheer them on. Families that could afford the right uniforms, could get their kids private lessons or coaching. She’d never even had the chance to dream of such a thing for her and Xavier, but now, hesitantly, she was starting to hope it could happen. They could be a part of things. They could have love, and a community, and a future.
When Nora, the woman from the country club, came up to her with a clipboard, Angelica smiled at her, determined to keep her walls down, to make a fresh start. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “Are your girls on the team? I’m hoping Xavier can join.”
“I heard. He seems really good.” The woman settled down on the bench beside Angelica. “I’m head of the parents’ organization. We do fund-raising and plan the end-of-season banquet for the kids, so I wanted to get you involved.”
Pleasure surged inside Angelica. “Great. I’m pretty new to all this, but I’m glad to help however I can.”
“Let me get your contact information.” Nora pulled out her iPhone.
As she punched in Angelica’s address, she smiled. “So you’re living with Troy already, are you?”
Angelica swallowed. She doesn’t mean anything by it. Don’t take it personally. “No, we’re not living together exactly. Xavier and I live on the farm, in the guesthouse.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I just assumed, since you have the same address... Great job, Nora, foot in mouth as usual. Never mind.”
“It’s okay. I work at the kennels,” Angelica said, hearing the stiffness in her own voice. “That’s why we live there.”
“Oh! I misunderstood.” The woman leaned in confidingly. “You know, ever since I got divorced, people have been trying to match me up with Troy.”
Angelica looked sideways at the woman’s perfect haircut and designer shorts. She was tall with an hourglass figure. What had Troy thought of her? Had they gone out?
Nora waved her hand airily. “It didn’t work out. He’s a great guy, though.”
“Yes, he is,” Angelica said guardedly. Why hadn’t it ever occurred to her that Troy had other options he was closing off by being involved with her? That he could date, or even marry, someone like Nora, the gorgeous, well-off, country-club-bred head of the parents’ group?
“So, I notice Xavier doesn’t have a uniform yet,” the woman continued. “They cost fifty dollars. And we ask that parents make a donation of fifty dollars to the group, for parties and snacks and special events.”
Angelica swallowed. “Um, okay. I might need to do one thing per paycheck, if that’s okay. Money’s a little tight.”
The woman laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Troy has all the money in the world.”
I want to fit in, God, but do I have to be nice to this busybody? “Like I said, we’ll take it one thing at a time. I’d like to get him the uniform first, but if you need the parents’ fee right away—”
“Oh no, it’s fine.” The woman shrugged, palms up. “You pay when you’re ready. Or when you tie the knot! I know Troy’s good for it.”
That rankled, and then another truth dawned as Angelica realized how her engagement to Troy must look to much of the town. Here she was, in her ancient cutoffs, and Xavier in his mismatched holey T-shirt and thrift-store gym shorts, and apparently Troy was known as one of the richest men in town. Just like when they’d been engaged before. They were two people from opposite sides of the tracks. They didn’t fit.
Did everyone think she was marrying Troy for his money?
Angelica’s phone buzzed, and when she saw Dr. Ravi’s office number on the caller ID, she wrinkled her nose apologetically at Nora. “Sorry, I have to take this.” When the woman didn’t get up to move, Angelica stood and walked out of earshot. “Hello?”
“Angelica, it’s Dr. Ravi. I got your message about Xavier playing soccer, and I wanted to tell you I think it’s wonderful.”
“Really? He’s cleared to play?”
“Not only that, but all the signs about the treatment are very, very positive. Of course, definitive cures aren’t part of the language of cancer doctors, but we are looking at very, very good numbers.”
“Oh, Dr. Ravi, thank you! That’s wonderful!”
“I agree.” In his voice, she could hear his sincere happiness. “One never likes to make promises, but if I were you, I would be planning a long, healthy future for that young man.”
Angelica half walked, half skipped back to the bench and sat down, vaguely conscious that there were a couple of other moms there with Nora now. She couldn’t even remember why she’d felt upset with Nora.
What an incredible gift from God. She looked up at the sky, grinning her gratitude. Wow, just wow. She felt like shouting.
“Could you give me your email and cell phone information for our parents’ directory?” Nora was looking at her, eyebrows raised.
“Um, yes, I... You know what, can we do this later? I just got some really, really good medical news. Xavier! Hey, Zavey!”
Xavier came trotting over. “Mom, did you see me score a goal?”
She reached out widespread arms and caught him in them, holding him so tight that he started to struggle. Reluctantly she let him go but held his shoulders to look into his eyes. “Guess what?”
“Mom, can I go back and play more?”
Her smile felt so broad that her cheeks hurt. “You sure can. In fact, Dr. Ravi says you’re cleared to play, and that the treatment seems to be working.”
His eyes and his mouth both went wide and round. “You mean I’m getting well?”
“Looks like it, kiddo.”
“And I can be on the team? And have my own shirt?”
“Absolutely. Just as soon as I get my next paycheck, you’ll have a uniform, buddy.”
He took off his hat and threw it high in the air, and the other moms seemed to draw in a collective sigh at the sight of his cancer-bald head.
“You know,” Nora said, “I’m sure that, between us, we can get him a uniform right away. Can’t we, ladies?”
The others nodded, and one of them, an acquaintance from years ago, reached out to give Angelica an impulsive hug. “We’re so glad you moved back. It’ll be great to get to know you again.”
“Yes, and with Xavier playing, maybe our team will win a game every once in a while,” chimed in one of the other moms, and they all laughed.
“Hey, there’s Dad!” Xavier pointed down the street. “Can I go tell him, Mom? Can I?”
She was so happy that it didn’t even bother her that Xavier had called Troy “Dad” in front of all these mothers, who, no matter how nice, were likely to gossip about it. She looked in the direction Xavier was pointing and saw Troy walking toward them, along the sidewalk. A part of her wanted to tell Troy the great news about Xavier herself, but she couldn’t deny Xavier the delight of telling. After all, it was his news. “Go for it, honey. Just don’t knock him down. He looks a little bit tired.”
Angelica watched Xavier running toward Troy, soccer ball under one arm, and happiness flooded her heart. It almost seemed in slow motion, like a dream: she was surrounded by other moms who seemed, suddenly, l
ike supportive friends. The warm, late-afternoon air kissed her cheeks, tinged with the scent of just-mown grass. Giant trees shaded them all, testimony to how long this park had been here, how deeply the community was grounded in history.
She wanted this, especially for Xavier, so much she could taste it. And here it was within their grasp.
Xavier got to Troy, shouting, “Mr. Troy! Dad! Guess what!”
Troy kept walking. Limping, actually, and he still had his cane.
Angelica’s heart faltered.
“Mr. Troy, hey! Don’t you hear me?” Xavier grabbed Troy’s leg.
Troy stumbled a little.
Angelica sprang from the bench and strode toward them, ignoring the concerned exclamations of the other mothers.
“Hey, Mr. Troy, guess what!”
Finally Troy stopped and turned to Xavier. “What?” His voice was oddly flat.
“I can play soccer! And I’m gonna get all better!”
Knowing Troy so well, Angelica could see him pull his mind from whatever faraway place it had been. He turned and bent down awkwardly, slowly. “That’s great news, buddy.” He was clearly trying to show enthusiasm. Trying, and failing.
To which her excited son was oblivious. “So that means you can be my coach, right? Can you, Dad? Can you?”
“We could use a few extra coaches, Troy,” Coach Linda called from among the group of mothers. “Hint, hint.”
Troy looked toward them, forehead wrinkled, frowning. “No,” he said. “No, I can’t do that.”
“Whaddya mean you can’t, Dad? You gotta coach me! You said you would.”
Angelica reached the pair then and, breathless, knelt down beside Xavier. “Give Mr. Troy a minute here, buddy.” She studied Troy’s face.
He was looking from her to Xavier with the strangest expression she’d ever seen. Eyes hooded, corners of his mouth turned down. She couldn’t read it and for some reason, it scared her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, putting a protective arm around Xavier.
“Mr. Troy, watch what I learned already!” Xavier threw the soccer ball he’d been carrying up into the air and bounced it off his head. Then he dribbled it in a circle, then kicked it up into his hands again.
His ability to handle the ball took Angelica’s breath away. He was well, or pretty close, and he was going to be able to develop this amazing talent. She clasped her hands to her chest, almost as if she could hold the joy inside.
“Don’t you want to coach me now?”
Troy looked at the two of them for a minute more. Then, without another word, he turned and started limping toward the truck.
She felt Xavier’s shoulders slump.
“Troy!” she said. “Come back here and tell us what’s going on.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her, just kept walking. And now she could see that he had a pronounced limp from some new, big kind of bandage around his leg, beneath his long pants.
“Troy!” When he didn’t answer, she put her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Remember how tired and cranky you can get from going to the doctor?”
Xavier nodded. But his lower lip was wobbling. He was so vulnerable, and she could have kicked Troy right in his bad leg for hurting her son’s feelings. “Well, I think that’s how Mr. Troy is feeling now.”
“Did he have a treatment?” Xavier asked. “Does he have cancer, like me?”
“He doesn’t have cancer, but I think he must have had a treatment that hurt or something. So we’ll talk to him later. Right now I think your team needs you.” Gently, she turned him back toward the playing field. She waved to Coach Linda, ignoring the curious stares of the other mothers. “Hey, Coach, Xavier’s coming back in to play some, okay?”
“We can use him,” Linda called, and as Xavier ran toward her, she reached out an arm to put around his shoulders.
Angelica watched long enough to see the pair head back toward the field. Both of them glanced back a couple of times, Xavier still looking a little crestfallen.
She marched after Troy.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
He didn’t stop, but she caught up with him easily.
“Troy! What happened at the doctor’s? Did you get bad news?”
He got to the truck and looked at it. Shut his eyes as though he was in physical pain. Then walked to the passenger door and opened it.
“Troy! I thought you... What happened?”
He closed the door and sat in the truck, staring straight ahead.
She reached out and pulled the door open before he could lock her out. “Look, I get that you’ve had some bad news, but let me in, okay? Tell me what’s going on. We’re a team, remember? We’re engaged! We’re getting married!”
“No, we’re not.”
The three words, spoken in that same flat tone he’d used with Xavier, pricked a hole in her anger. She felt her energy start to flow out of her, like a tire with a slow leak. “What do you mean? Talk to me.”
He didn’t.
“What happened? Why aren’t we getting married now? Troy, no matter what happened to you, which I’d appreciate being told about, you can’t just shut me out. And I don’t like your ignoring Xavier that way. You really hurt his feelings.”
“And of course I wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of Jeremy’s son.”
Jeremy’s son.
A core of ice formed inside her. He knew. Troy knew the truth.
Jeremy’s son.
She never thought of Xavier that way. Xavier was her son. God’s son. Soon, she’d thought, he would be Troy’s son.
Though Jeremy Filmore had had a role in his conception, a role she’d spent a lot of years blocking out, it had ended there.
Hearing Troy say that name made her feel like throwing up. She staggered and leaned against the side of the truck. It was hot, but somehow the sun’s warmth didn’t penetrate the icy cold she felt inside.
Her worst nightmare. Troy had found out her assailant, who wasn’t some stranger he could hate from a distance, but his own good friend, someone they’d both known. “What did you hear?” she asked in a dull voice.
“Well, for one thing, I heard that my leg is permanently screwed up. That I’ll have to wear this boot for six months and I won’t be able to drive or exercise. After that, I have to have some surgery that might or might not allow me to walk without a cane.”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t. She could barely focus on what he was saying, only realizing that it had something to do with his leg not healing.
That awful name kept echoing through her head. Jeremy. Jeremy. Jeremy.
It whirled her back to a night she’d spent years trying to forget. To a very handsome and charming older guy who’d flattered her at her birthday celebration, walked her partway home, then dragged her into his apartment and spent what seemed like hours hurting her in ways she’d had no idea a man could hurt a woman.
Her screams had been ineffectual; the other apartments had been empty. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears, even made him laugh.
What he’d done to her physically was horrible enough. But his name-calling, his degradation of her as a woman, his comments about her past, her unworthiness, her asking for it... All of those words had stuck to her like poison glue, growing inside her right along with the baby growing in her womb. The ugly descriptions of herself had expanded until they were all she could see, all she could feel.
Only the tireless nurturing of her aunt, and intensive sessions with a skilled therapist, had been able to pull her out of the deep depression she’d sunk into.
“You cheated on me,” Troy said now. “And you lied to me.”
Cheater. Liar. Even though the words Jeremy had uttered had been much stronger and more degrading, the echo in the voice of her b
eloved Troy made her double over, the hurt was so sudden and so strong.
She knelt in the dirt beside the truck, holding her stomach.
“Don’t even try to defend yourself. I won’t believe a word you say.”
His flat, angry, judgmental certainty slammed into her. It was just the way she’d figured he would react; it was the reason she’d thrown clothes into a bag and left town the day she learned she was pregnant.
Now, though, her automatic reaction was different. To her own surprise, she didn’t feel like running. She felt her shoulders go back as she glared at him. “Did you just tell me not to say anything?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning out of the truck, breathing hard. “That’s exactly what I told you.”
Gravel dug into her knees. What was she doing on her knees? Holding on to the side of the truck for support, she climbed to her feet. “Don’t you ever tell me I can’t say what’s on my mind. I spent a lot of years keeping silent, and I’m tired of it. I don’t deserve what happened to me, and I don’t deserve for you to blame me for what someone else did to me.”
He looked at her with huge sags under his eyes, as if he’d aged ten years. “You wanted to be with him. Right?”
Whoa! Just like Jeremy! Her hands went to her hips as heat flushed through her body. “You can stop right now with telling me what I did and didn’t want. No woman would want what happened to me, and any man who says otherwise is messed up.” She walked closer to him, her heart pounding in her ears. “You hear me? Totally. Messed. Up.” With each word, she jabbed a pointing finger at him. “If that’s what you’re thinking, you can get out of my life.”
He swung his legs down with a painful wince. “I’m going, just as soon as I can get a ride. And you can get out of mine. I want your bags packed and you...” He trailed off, swallowed hard. “You and Xavier...off my property. By tomorrow.”
Chapter Fourteen
Troy watched the woman he’d thought he loved draw in a rasping breath, then clench her jaw. “I’ll drive you home,” she said. “Let me get Xavier.”
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