by Sable Hunter
The thought made her hang her head. When she pushed Clint away, she’d felt so adamant about avoiding involvement with anyone who would put themselves at such risk. Playing football was dangerous, no one could dispute that fact. After studying the autopsy results of a hundred and twenty players who were confirmed to have suffered from CTE, she understood the perils even more now. Yet here she was facing an equally dangerous and devastating battle – not with repeated brain injuries – but with a quiet and lethal disease that would change her life forever.
As they traveled through the rain, she listened to Scott as he teased his wife. Their conversation was lighthearted and loving. Jensen felt an acute sense of jealousy at what they shared. In the pursuit of her career, she’d put a low priority on dating. There was always tomorrow, she thought. Plenty of time later for a husband and a family. For love. For passion. Truth be told, she knew little of passion. The few encounters she’d allowed herself over the years were with men whose focus and devotion to their careers rivaled her own. Looking back, those trysts were clinical, just two people seeking a quick release without an emotional connection. The kiss she’d shared with Clint had been far more passionate than those meaningless assignations with men whose names she could barely remember.
And yet – she’d never forgotten Clint.
Part of her wished she could’ve run into him tonight. Knowing what she faced tomorrow, she would’ve jumped at the chance to spend one night in his arms. One night of passion while she was still whole. Perfect.
“Stop it,” she chided herself. You’re lucky. You’ve got a chance to survive. A chance to not only continue your work, but a chance to live every day to the fullest. There was so much she wanted to do, to see, to experience. Yes, she wanted to survive – even if she’d never be the same.
“What did you say?” Lia asked Jensen. “Do you need Scott to pull over.”
“No. No. I was mumbling. I have a bad habit of talking to myself.”
Lia giggled. “So does Scott.”
“Hey, sometimes you just need to hear a smart person’s voice.”
“Oh, now you stop it.” Lia playfully slapped her husband on the arm.
Jensen smiled at their byplay. They both seemed like good people. In a few minutes, she’d know if they were as understanding as they appeared to be. Her world had drastically changed since she’d agreed to this interview. What would Scott think when she told him? Would the offer still hold? Her argument would be that she’d be well on the way to recovery by the time she reported to work. The surgery would be over, the treatments would be behind her. The only thing she’d still be dealing with would be adjusting to the aftermath.
“Okay. Here we are.” As Scott pulled into a parking place, Jensen calmed her mind. Everything was fine. Despite what she faced tomorrow; her future was bright. All she needed to do was keep her eye on the prize – and her mind off an amber-eyed football player.
… “Mr. Wilder. Welcome to Pappadeaux’s.” A busty young waitress met him with menus. “You don’t have to wait in line. How many?”
“Thanks.” He gave her a friendly grin. His PR guy was doing a helluva job. Sometimes too good, he thought. “I’m meeting someone.” Glancing into the dining area, he saw his brothers standing at a table, beckoning him in. “There they are.”
Keeping an eye on his siblings, Clint wove his way through the tables, nodding and waving at folks who hailed him with a greeting. He checked the occupant of every table in his path, but Jensen was nowhere in sight.
“Man, must be nice,” Rowan drawled as he greeted his brother. “Not sure I’m good enough to rub elbows with such a big celebrity.”
“Oh, shut up, knucklehead.” Clint playfully punched his older brother in the arm before turning to give his younger brother, Kyd, a hug. “Good to see you two. How are the girls?”
“Our sisters are fine. Bellamy’s birthday is coming up, so don’t forget that momentous occasion.” They all sat down as Rowan summoned a waitress to the table.
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. She won’t let me,” Clint murmured with amusement. “Anytime she messages me there are little birthday cake emojis at the end of every sentence.” After their server arrived and a round of beers was ordered, Clint slapped the table lightly. “Well, I’m always glad to see you fellas, but you’ve driven a heck of a long way in the rain for some boudin and cracklins. So, what’s up?”
“We met you halfway,” Rowan shrugged. “Stop complaining.”
“This is true.” With Clint in Houston, Kyd in Dallas, and Rowan’s ranch located west of Fort Worth, Austin was a central point.
“Maybe we just wanted to see you. Or…” He gave Clint a smirk. “Maybe we rode in on the coattails of this cold front. You can’t be the only one who has all the fun. We saw the segment on the news featuring some of the footage you took of that monster tornado in Oklahoma.” Kyd winked at Rowan as he teased his brother about his strange pastime. “What did the announcer say…Clint Wilder, football great, doing his part as an avid storm chaser to keep us all safe.” He tossed a napkin playfully at his brother. “You’ve even written a book, Mr. Author.”
“Right. Taming the Storm. I think it sold ten copies and five of those were to Mom.” He eyed both of his brothers, trying to read the situation. “We all know I’m a frustrated meteorologist, but that’s not what this is about.” Clint shook his head. “Is somebody in trouble? Somebody sick?”
“I don’t know.” Kyd waved a hand and pointed to Rowan. “He hasn’t told me anything. Didn’t want to spoil the surprise. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”
“No one’s sick. Nobody needs a loan. This time.” Rowan cleared his throat and looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’d say you’ve done enough for the family.” He picked up the menu and buried his head between the pages. “I’m the oldest, I should’ve been the one who provided what was needed.”
“Hey. Stop.” Clint was about to say more when he held up his hand, pausing their conversation while the waitress placed their drinks on the table. Once she was out of the way, he continued, “Rowan.” He touched his brother’s shoulder. “The time will come when you’re on top. You raise some of the finest stock in the state.”
“I plow all my money back into the horses.” Rowan laid the menu down, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“The work you do with abused animals is amazing,” Kyd added. “We all admire the hell out of you.”
“Thanks,” Rowan stacked his fork on top of his knife, looking down at the table. “Ivy is a godsend with those animals. She can calm a panicked stallion with just a simple touch.”
“Yea, now if she could just work some of her magic on you and your foul temperament.” Kyd grinned, but his eyes were serious.
Rowan tensed, shaking his head. “Yea, I know. I have anger issues.” He turned up his beer and drained it.
“None of us have had an easy time of it.” Clint empathized with his older brother. “What you need to do is give yourself credit for what you’ve accomplished. Ivy has a wonderful talent, but this was your vision and you made it a reality. One of these days, your dream will pay off big time.”
“I understand how Rowan feels.” Kyd shook his head. “My business is slow to grow also. We just wish we were rolling in dough like you, Clint.”
Clint frowned. “I’m comfortable. I can take care of my family, but I’m not rolling in dough.” He didn’t make nearly as much money as they imagined. Oh, he did well, but he wasn’t a top earner in the NFL by any means. “We didn’t make the playoffs – again, which won’t help salary negotiations. So, who knows?” Clapping Kyd on the back, he smiled. “Besides, you’re doing great. Recipient of AIA’s Young Architect of the Year Award. Right?”
“Yea, I lucked out.” Kyd pressed his lips together and nodded. “I guess we’re all doing pretty good.”
“Right!” Clint said with a smile. “Now, enough accolades. We’ve gotten seriously off-track. So…what was so important you wanted to meet out of ea
rshot of mom and the girls?”
“Well, it wasn’t because they shouldn’t hear this,” Rowan explained. “It was just so hard to get everyone together in one place. Mom is telling them right now and she asked me to pass the news on to you two.”
“Okay. Get on with it. Tell us what?” Clint asked impatiently. Nothing against his brothers, but he wanted to get this show on the road so he could locate Jensen in the crowded restaurant.
“You know we’ve always wondered about our roots.”
“Yea.” Clint’s attention was immediately honed in on what his brother was saying. “What about our roots?”
Before Rowan could say more, a waitress came to take their order.
“Well, hell.” Talk about bad timing. Clint didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll have the blackened redfish.”
The others weren’t as quick in their decision making. “The catfish is good,” Kyd noted.
“The etouffee is tasty too.” Roman rubbed his empty stomach.
“Good grief. I’m going to the restroom while you two talk entrees,” Clint announced, shaking his head at how easily food could distract his brothers from something so important. When he rose from the table, his brain was firing on all cylinders. Now he had two things on his mind – locating Jensen in this damn maze of a restaurant and finding out what his mother thought was so important she’d sent Rowan to tell him in person.
It had to be good news, didn’t it?
As he strolled slowly to the rear of the building, his eyes checked out every person at every table he passed. Where was she? What if she’d left? Taking a moment to find out, Clint headed to the front and stepped out on the entrance walk to see if her car was still in the parking lot. After a moment, he located it. “Okay, she’s still here somewhere.” Returning inside, he began a methodical search. After checking every nook and cranny of the place, Clint was confused. Where could she be? Oh well, once he heard Rowan’s news, he’d go plant himself next to her car and wait until she reappeared.
Before returning to his seat, he decided to take a detour to the restroom. The disquiet he was feeling about Rowan’s announcement disturbed Clint. “You’re a grown-ass man, get a grip,” he told himself. He and his siblings weren’t the only kids who’d grown up with an absentee father. And his mother certainly wasn’t the only child who never knew her biological parents. No, what always bothered him was the lack of knowledge he possessed about either side of his family. He couldn’t deny how knowing so little about his past made him feel untethered.
As he pushed into the men’s room, the memory of one particular day came to mind.
“You’re good, Clint,” Russ Bran told him with a big sigh. “You’ll make first string, no problem.”
“Thanks. I’m sure you will too.” He tossed his football to his friend. “Want to spend the night at my house so we can work on the new plays Coach gave us?”
“Can’t.” Russ shook his head. “My grandparents are in town for a few days. They’ve promised to help with my science project while they’re here. Tonight, my mom is frying chicken and then we’re gonna play board games.”
“You sure seem excited about seeing your grandparents.”
“Yea.” He grinned big. “They’re nice. Two or three times a year, I visit their farm and ride horses. My gram makes the best cookies.” Russ licked his lips.
Clint was still struggling with the idea. “Aren’t your grandparents old?”
Russ made a frowny face. “Well, yea. I guess all grandparents are old. Aren’t yours?”
“Beats me.” Clint shrugged, throwing the ball up into the air and catching it. “I’ve never met mine.”
“Really?” Russ couldn’t believe it. “Everybody has grandparents. Who buys you good stuff at Christmas? Who takes you on vacations? Who stands up for you when your parents won’t let you do fun stuff?”
“All we have is my mom, but she’s a good mom.”
“Yea, but how are you going to do your science project?” Russ asked with concern.
“What do you mean?”
Russ looked at Clint like he was crazy. “Our assignment is to draw a family tree.”
“So? I can draw a tree as good as you.” Clint didn’t see the problem.
Hitting his head with the palm of his hand, Russ rolled his eyes. “No, you don’t understand. You have to write down your ancestors on the branches of the tree. Your parents’ names and their parents’ names and your great-grand parents’ names.” He moved his arms high and wide above his head. “You end up with all these names. Mom said I have four sets of great-grandparents!”
“I guess I’ll fail. I don’t think I have any names to write down.” Now, Clint was worried.
“Aw, sure you do. Just ask your mom.” Russ pointed at the sky. “Look at those black clouds. Man, we’d better hot foot it home or we’re gonna drown.” Cutting off to the right, he waved good-bye. “See you at school tomorrow.”
“Yea. Okay.” Clint continued on his way, still considering what Russ had said. When he arrived on his street, he was struck at how all the small brick homes looked alike. If he didn’t know his was the fourth house on the right, the only way he would’ve recognized it would be by their familiar bicycles strewn across the yard. He wished they still lived in their home in Jarrell, the one they’d shared with their dad, but that house was gone forever – just like his dad.
At least his mom was there waiting for him. Some kids went home to an empty house. They’d never had to do that. His mom, Gillian, sold stuff and he helped her with deliveries. Heading for the backdoor, he heard the chaos before he saw it – and the noise made him smile.
“Somebody, please catch that dog and put him outside!” Gillian yelled as she pulled a pan of macaroni and cheese from the oven. “Rowan, set the table.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took plates from the cabinet, stepping around Cassidy as she banged pans together on the floor.
“Bruno! Here, Bruno!” Kyd hollered at the top of his lungs. “Mom, he’s hiding from me!”
“Look behind the couch,” Clint suggested as he pulled off his shoes.
“Hey, Clint! Hand me a diaper from the bedroom.” His oldest sister, Colleen, sat on the couch holding baby Bellamy’s ankles aloft as she cleaned her with a wipe.
“Sure.” He fetched the diaper, then went to give his mom a hug. “I need help with my homework tonight.”
A harried Gillian nodded as she filled glasses with iced tea. “Sure. I’ll help you as soon as we finish dinner and put the younger ones to bed.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Help your brother dish up the wienie beans. We’ll eat in a few minutes.”
Clint did as he was told, eyeing the food. “Russ is having fried chicken for supper.”
“Good for Russ. Our food is filling, and we have one another. Be thankful.” His mom told him patiently.
As Clint washed his hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn’t remember the exact banter that went on at the dinner table – but he did recall feeling the love of his family.
But it was what happened later that stuck with him the most.
Once supper was over, Rowan and Colleen helped the younger ones get ready for bed while Clint pulled kitchen duty with their mother.
“Okay, bud. What’s your assignment?”
Clint brought his backpack to the table to pull out a sheet of paper depicting a tree with many branches. There were dotted lines to be filled in beneath the branches. “We’re studying genetics and I have to make a family tree.”
“Oh.” Gillian’s one-word answer seemed to say much more. While lightning flashed through the window, his mother turned pale as she tugged a chair out to sit with her son. “I don’t think I can help you very much.”
“Why not? Who’ll help me? I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“I know.”
His mom looked so upset, Clint wished he’d never asked. “It’s okay, Mama.”
“No, i
t’s not. Let me try to explain.” She picked up the saltshaker and stared at the grains inside the glass jar. “I should’ve told you, Rowan, and Colleen about this as soon as you were old enough to grasp what I was saying. Our family isn’t like everyone else’s.”
“It’s okay.” He waited – for what he didn’t know.
“I don’t know who my parents are,” she explained softly, “much less my grandparents.”
“Why?” Clint couldn’t conceive of such a notion. “How could you not know your mama?”
Gillian shrugged. “I was separated from her when I was very small. I don’t know why. I don’t know who she was or if my father was even in the picture. A couple kept me until I was three and then turned me over to foster care. I never stayed in a home long enough to think of anyone as a real parent.”
“So…you don’t know who you are?”
“I’m your mother.” She gave him a big smile. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Yea.” He didn’t sound so sure. “How about Dad? Do we know anything about his folks?”
Gillian’s face clouded and she bowed her head. Clint knew he’d said something he shouldn’t have said. Anytime any of them asked about Saul Wilder, their mother got the saddest look on her face. They hadn’t seen him since right after Bellamy was born, right before the only home they’d ever known was destroyed in a tornado.
“Your father didn’t have a good relationship with his parents. He never told me anything about them. I don’t know their names, where they live, or even if they’re still alive.”
Clint rubbed his hand over the paper depicting the tree and tried to make sense of everything. “He was never home very much, was he?”
“No. He worked pipeline jobs and only came home…not often enough.” She smiled sadly. “I fell madly in love with him, you know. He’s a good man.”
“Where is he?” Clint’s mouth fell open. “Why doesn’t he ever come to see us?”
Gillian shook her head. “I don’t know. The only number I have for him doesn’t work. I don’t know where he lives now.”
