by Janet Walker
***
Twenty minutes later, Grace stood before the players and helpers. She had already blown Tip’s whistle for attention, and now the girls stood around waiting to hear what she had to say. As she spoke, she carefully avoided looking at Tracy Sullivan.
“All right, listen up. You are all invited to a Christmas Eve dinner at my home Monday at four o’clock, a week from this moment.”
An astounded silence, and then, from the girls: “What?” “You for real?” “Yes!”
Laughter.
Grace did not reflect the mirth but continued speaking as before.
“You may bring one person with you—no more than that, or I will not allow you to remain. As some of you may know, Tracy has already visited my home and that is because she will not be able to attend the dinner. For personal reasons, her aunt doesn’t celebrate Christmas, nor does she want Tracy to participate in the festivities. So,” she concluded, clasping her hands together and forcing a smile, “I hope the rest of you can make it. Before your holiday starts on Thursday, I will give you directions to my home and any other pertinent information you’ll need to attend. Is that clear?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am!” came the jubilant response. In all her years at Beck, Miz Grace had never invited students to her home, not even her athletes, and now they were to have that opportunity!
“Scuse me, M’Grace, but yo huzbun gon’ be there?” asked Dent.
The group hesitated, waiting for the answer.
“Yes,” Grace said and smiled when she saw their pleasure.
I’mmo party with Jazz Nelson? Oh, girl, I know I got to be looking good!
Why are you saying that with his wife standing right there?
Oops—that’s right. I forgot.
The others laughed at the overheard exchange, and Grace smiled with them, genuinely amused by Karla Head’s slip of the tongue. Afterwards, however, Grace met eyes with Tracy and they exchanged private smiles. Weary smiles spawned by the sadness of a shared loss.
