by Mary Manners
The years of rough games and two-a-day workouts—and now this irritating knee injury—had proven just how unstable his career choice could be. Maybe he’d never play again. The doc just couldn’t say for sure either way. Being sidelined had given him plenty of time to think. He was home now, and things were different.
He got into his car and cranked up the stereo, slipped in his favorite CD to drown out memories of the way Lexi had looked that last day, when they’d argued in the common area of the dorm as thunder rumbled in the distance and heat lightning flashed the warning of an impending storm. Tears had muddied her pretty chocolate-almond eyes and streamed down cheeks that caught fire with the hurt.
His knee throbbed in time to the music from the stereo, but he ignored the pain. He needed a muscle-burning workout, something to take his mind off the mess he’d made. Just because his knee refused to cooperate was no reason to neglect his upper body, his throwing arm. He pulled into traffic along Kingston Pike and headed toward the gym.
Nothing like a pump-til-you-drop workout to make the mind go blank, clear the head and chase away bad memories.
****
“What was that all about?” Andy’s eyes narrowed as he studied Lexi’s white knuckles on the steering wheel. “You want me to drive? You’re really stressed out.”
“You can’t drive. You’re only twelve.”
He bowed up. “I’m almost thirteen. Besides, Mom lets me drive all the time.”
Her gaze left the road long enough to throw him a disbelieving look. “She does not.”
“Wanna bet?” His smug expression told her otherwise. “Call her.”
She would if it might do any good. But all she’d get is voicemail, and Terri hadn’t responded to any of her messages for nearly two weeks. It was as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth. Lexi wasn’t worried. The behavior was typical Terri. She’d call when she was ready, show up again when she felt the urge. “Well, you’re here now, and you’re not driving until you’re legal. That’s—”
“Seven-hundred and ninety-two more days.” He flipped shaggy hair over his forehead to hide his eyes. “Make that, seven-hundred and ninety-two more unbearably long days.”
“You’ve got that figured out? What’s up with the D in math, then?”
He shrugged and punched a button on the stereo. A heavy rap beat rocked the car. “I dunno. Mr. Grinstead doesn’t like me. Nobody here likes me.”
“I like you.” Lexi jabbed the station pre-sets and lowered the volume. Music dulled from an irritating thump to a smooth melody that soothed the growing ache in her head.
“That doesn’t count. You have to like me. You’re my aunt, remember?”
“How could I forget?” She flashed him a strained smile and shook her head ever-so-slightly as he reached to change the station again.
“Leave the music alone, please.”
He grimaced but backed off. “You call that music? It’s like vomit in my ears.” He slumped resignedly in the seat.
“Sorry. It’ll grow on you.”
“Like poison ivy.”
She sighed and eased her grip on the wheel. Her fingers were beginning to tingle from lack of circulation. “I’ll bet your grades would improve if you did your homework more and talked in class less. I had Mr. Grinstead for math when I was in seventh grade. He’s not so bad.”
“You had him? Wow, he must be really old.”
“Thanks, buddy. I feel a whole lot better now.”
“Sorry. But he must be at least eighty. And he smells like moth balls and tells bad jokes.”
“He’s not eighty. Maybe fifty-five, but certainly not eighty. And, yes, I guess he did tell some pretty awful jokes.” She merged into traffic along I-40. “But you’ll survive the class—I promise. I did, and Cooper had him, too.”
“Jackson? “ His eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You went to school with Cooper Jackson—the Cooper Jackson?”
“I sure did. We were in the same classes from sixth grade on.” She’d give him that much, if it would motivate him—anything to keep his focus on schoolwork and off trouble. She kept the part about how she and Cooper had passed notes to each other during lectures, and how he’d asked her out for the first time by tossing her a note while Mr. Grinstead worked out scale-factor problems on the overhead. There was no need to tell him they’d skipped rocks at a hidden pond they’d found while taking a shortcut home from school one afternoon, and that Cooper could make his rock skim the surface of the water, skipping a dozen times, before it finally sank to the muddy bottom.
“Cool. Really, really cool. I’ll bet he hated math, too.”
“No, he was actually very good at math.” He’d helped her survive calculus, and she’d guided him through his senior research paper for honors English. “Andy, you know if you don’t get your grades up, you can’t go out for spring practice with the football team.”
“You mean you’ll let me go?” He brushed waves of hair from his eyes and she saw them brighten with excitement. “You’ll drive me to the field and pick me up when I’m done?”
“Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Mom never did. She was always going to auditions and hanging out with that weird wannabe director dude. That’s why I got kicked off the team—I couldn’t make all the practices.”
“Well, this is different.” She pulled into their neighborhood and wound around to the driveway of their small frame house. The wrap-around porch could use a fresh coat of paint. Maybe she’d keep Andy busy with the project now that the weather was warming into full-blown spring. She groaned at the flower beds along the porch. Weeds had taken up residence and owned the whole zip code. Lexi sighed and shook her head as she drove into the garage and cut the engine. She had more pressing worries at the moment. “You get your grades up, and I’ll take you to every practice. That’s a promise, Andy. Deal?”
He flipped the hair back again, studied her with cautious eyes beneath the warm glow of the garage door light. “You mean it?”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes, I mean it. A promise is a promise. No take-backs.”
“Even so...” He reached for her hand. “Can we shake on it?”
“Of course, if it makes you feel better.” She grasped his hand, gave it a shake that would make any ironman proud. “Just one more thing.”
He groaned and rocked back against the seat. “I knew this was coming. What?”
“You can keep the rock star hair until practice starts. Then it gets cut.”
“But—”
She shook her head. “No buts about it, buddy. The hair goes. You can grow it back when the season’s over if you still want to.”
He grimaced and ran a hand from brow to nape as if she planned on scalping him instead of just trimming the hair. “OK. I can deal. I don’t like it, but I can deal.”
“Good. Now go on in and feed Max, then start on that pile of schoolwork you carted home this afternoon. I’ll be there in a few minutes to help you, if you need it. I have to make a call.”
“Is it about Cooper Jackson? Sweet! He said he’d toss a football with me. Maybe he’ll help me with my game, too. When do you think we can see him again? Maybe tomorrow, you think?”
Lexi’s belly soured. If she had her way, she’d never see him again, and now Andy was swept up, as well. She sighed.
“Go inside, Andy. Fill Max’s food dish and make sure he has plenty of fresh water. Then it’s straight to the table with all your books. No detours to the fridge—or the computer. Do your homework, pronto.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He saluted her smartly and slid from the car. “But Cooper Jackson...wow!”
He clomped up the steps and through the back door, slamming it in the way that had grown familiar. Lexi groaned and settled back in the seat. She pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a migraine that threatened to crack her skull wide open, and then slipped off the sandals that gnawed tender flesh at her ankles.
Ah...peace
and quiet. Finally. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. Oh, how she longed for a power nap. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge for just a few blissful moments. Then she’d get back to the business at hand.
Ugh...homework. And dinner. She couldn’t forget about dinner. Andy wouldn’t dream of missing a meal. The kid plowed through food like a freight train. She’d have to throw something together, and quick. She glanced at her watch—nearly seven o’clock already. Maybe Andy wouldn’t mind macaroni and cheese...again. She could steam some broccoli for a side. Yeah, that would go over well. He’d gobble it right up and beg for seconds.
Her purse began to vibrate on the console beside her. She groaned and delved through the mess inside for her cell phone. A quick check of the caller ID told her Renee was on the other end. She flipped open the phone and—.
“Oh, Lexi. I’m so sorry. I had no idea your date was...him. Where are you? Are you OK? You bolted from the studio like the place was on fire.”
“Slow down.” Her head throbbed and she pressed two fingers to her left temple to massage in slow, tight circles. “One question at a time, please.”
“We can fix this...somehow. I’ll get right on it. I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Renee. Who would have ever imagined Cooper would pull a stunt like this...after all this time.”
“Oh, Lex. Maybe there’s a loophole. You might not have to actually go on a date with him in order for Thursday’s Child to keep the money.”
“I’ve already checked the fine print...and I do. There’s no way around it. The legal team wrote some iron-clad rules.”
“Then maybe we can make it without Cooper’s bid. I’ll stay up late and crunch some numbers.”
“You know that’s impossible. Even with his money, we’ll be cutting it too close for comfort.” Lexi bit back an onslaught of accusing words. If Renee hadn’t come up with this hair-brained idea... But she couldn’t blame her friend. After all, she’d agreed to the auction, too. Besides, Renee had been there for her through the darkest times...when Cooper left and then, later, when she lost Luke. She’d nursed Lexi back to health, both physically and emotionally. And she’d been a rock last year, too, when Lexi’s dad suffered a massive stroke and died a few days later. “I mean, I know we need the money. We can’t keep Thursday’s Child running without it. And we’ve worked too hard to quit now. Think of the kids, Renee.”
She sighed. “I am thinking of them. But I’m thinking of you, too, Lex.”
“I’ll be OK. Just don’t say a word to anyone about...well, you know, Renee. Just don’t, OK?” Renee was the only one in the world who knew her secret, and Lexi planned to keep things that way. It was nobody’s business but hers...and God’s, after all. And she’d made peace with the mistakes she’d made so long ago, when she was in that in-between place...no longer child, but not yet adult, either.
“We need to talk.” Renee’s voice rushed over the phone. “If you’re determined to go through with this, we need to come up with a plan. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. I can’t bear it.”
“I’ll call you back later. I have to help Andy with his math homework. And I haven’t even started dinner.”
“You can’t put this off, Lexi. I’ll run by that little Italian restaurant by the river and pick up one of their pasta specials. You know how much you love their baked spaghetti. And I can give Andy a hand with his math, too. Word problems are my specialty, after all. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Put on a pot of coffee.”
“Renee, wait—” The line went dead.
****
Lexi sighed and rolled over to stare at the ceiling, pulling the covers over her chin. Sleep refused to come, though she was flat-out bone-tired. Her mind raced and wandered through memories and places best forgotten.
She massaged her left ring finger where a pale band of flesh once stood out bright as the summer sun against tanned skin when she removed the promise ring Cooper gave her their sophomore year in college. He was going to marry her one day, he’d said, and he wanted her to have the ring until he could save enough for a decent engagement ring—something glittery and substantial and fit for a woman with her beauty. And oh, she’d believed him.
Now the promise ring was tucked in her bottom dresser drawer, among stacks of running shorts and T-shirts. She’d wrapped the delicate silver that held her birthstone in tissue paper and slid it into a zippered baggie, and she rarely thought about it.
Except for now, when she knew he was just across town, most likely swapping stories with some of his football buddies while they caught whatever sport that played on the big-screen TV down at Bailey’s. Cooper always did like hanging out at Bailey’s.
She had, too, in more carefree and reckless days. But times had changed her...grief and loss had changed her. Now she spent her Friday nights planning events for the center with Renee, or counseling troubled teens that simply needed someone to listen, to care.
Max sighed and stretched his massive black-lab legs from where he lay on the floor beside her bed. His head came up and dark, soulful eyes studied her. She’d rescued him from the local shelter nearly five years ago, nursed him back from a pitiful case of mange and heartworms, and now they seemed to understand each other more than most married couples.
“Having trouble sleeping, too?” she asked as she leaned over the side of the bed to scratch behind his ears. “How about we read a little? I can go over the schedule for this summer’s rec leagues. That ought to do the trick.”
Max grumbled and tucked his front paws beneath his chin as if to say, “If you really have to, I guess it’s OK.”
Lexi switched on the bedside lamp. Pale light washed over the room as she reached for the notebook she’d set on the night table. Some serious work-related reading would force all thoughts of Cooper from her mind—she hoped.
4
“A little farther. Come on, give it some gas.” Cooper glanced into the rearview mirror to see Lexi wave him back. “A little to the left. That’s good. Stop.” She held out her hand like a very serious, but cute, traffic cop.
He hit the brakes, shut off the truck’s engine, and leaned out the driver’s window. “You want us to dump it all here?”
“Well, not just dump it.” Her chocolate eyes widened. “You’ll crush the seedlings the kids worked so hard to transplant.”
“I get the picture.” He motioned to the truck bed, filled with bags of mulch that had been donated by a local home improvement store. “You know, it would have been a lot easier to have dumped the mulch first and then planted the seedlings.”
“Yes, I know.” Defensive, one hand went to her hip and her lips pursed into a tight frown. “But we didn’t have mulch donated at the time, and we needed to get the plants in before spring turned into summer.”
It was hard to keep a straight face when she looked so ticked off. “Don’t worry. We’ll get the job done right.”
“Good.” She was already retreating, her feet like pedals pumping backwards, away from him. “I’m going around back to help the kids with the flower beds flanking the parking lot.”
Of course she was. She’d go to Siberia to get away from him, no doubt. She’d made that much clear when they’d negotiated this “date.”
Some date...he was sweating his hind end off hauling what felt like tons of mulch while the towheaded kid who’d mauled him the other night for an autograph rode shotgun and talked his ear off. And the kid had brought a digital camera, to boot. He snapped so many shots Cooper was beginning to feel like he was at a press conference with a slew of frenzied photographers.
He sighed and raised his voice a decibel or two so she could hear him as she rounded the corner of the building and disappeared from his sight. “I’ll go back to the home improvement store for the next load as soon as we’ve laid these.”
“Great,” she shouted back. “They’ve donated a hundred bags. I hope that’ll be enough to cover every bed.”
A hund
red bags...good grief!
He took mental inventory. At twenty-five bags per load, it would take him four trips to get the entire donation here. Good thing the home improvement center was just a few miles down the road. Cooper shook his head. How had he gotten roped into this?
Oh, yeah. The auction. This was some date, he’d negotiated. And why?
Hmmm...Lexi’s chocolate eyes, her sweet pucker of a mouth. And those long, toned legs. Yeah, that had something to do with it.
A lot to do with it. She could coax wax to melt.
“I’ll help.” The kid—Andy was his name—scrambled from the passenger seat and ran around to the back of the truck. The tailgate clattered as he tugged and lifted. “You should rest your knee, Mr. Jackson.”
“Cooper.” The mister stuff made him feel ancient. He slipped from the driver’s seat and tested his knee, bit back an oath and struggled to ignore the shooting pain. No way would he let this scrawny kid outwork him when it came to hauling mulch—or anything else, for that matter. “Hey, those bags are awfully heavy. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Who, me?” The kid’s eyebrows knit together in a scowl. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“Sure, you are.”
Bent on proving it, Andy reached into the truck bed, grabbed a forty pound bag, and hauled it out. He tossed it on the ground at Cooper’s feet. “I beat up a kid twice my size last month.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cooper watched him scramble into the truck bed for another bag. “What for?”
