by Mary Manners
“Scrawny?” His face scrunched into a mock-scowl. “Hey, I’ve never been scrawny.”
“Is that so?” She laughed. “In the sixth grade...hate to break it to you, but you certainly were. And I have the pictures to prove it.”
“Well, then, I’m in trouble. You could leak the evidence to one of those gossip papers I see in the grocery store checkout aisles. That payoff would solve all of Thursday’s Child’s financial woes, for sure.”
She sobered at the thought. “I’d never do that to you, Cooper—not ever.”
He eased back, stretched powerful legs beneath the dash. “I know.” It was one of the many reasons he’d fallen in love with her way back when. She was loyal and honest to a fault. She’d never dream of hurting anyone.
Yet I hurt her. How can I reconcile that?
“Would you...like to come in for a glass of iced tea, a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, tea sounds good, if it’s not too late. I know you have to get up early for church tomorrow.” She’d told him she sang in the choir, and their rehearsal came before the first service. He remembered she had a pretty voice, one that used to lull him with an earthy southern cadence when she sang the most popular tunes along with his car stereo.
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “The carriage won’t turn back into a pumpkin for a few hours, so we’re good.”
“OK.” He switched off the engine, tucked the keys into the front pocket of his jeans. “You do make some good iced tea.” He came around the front of the car, opened the passenger door for her.
The cool night breeze fluttered her hair as she slipped from the seat. He smelled the familiar scent of sweet vanilla on her skin. It was the same lotion she’d slathered on through high school and college...the one he liked so much...the one that made her skin silky to the touch. He shook his head, struggled to focus on what she said as he followed her up the walk and settled into a white wicker chair that flanked a small round table graced with a rainbow of potted wave petunias.
“I’ll just be a minute.” She pulled open the screen door. “Would you like some extra sugar in your tea?”
“No. The way you brew it is just right.”
The screen door slapped against its frame as she disappeared inside. He heard the clink of ice against glass, the sound of the refrigerator door swishing open and closed. Then she returned holding two tall glasses. She offered him one before she slipped off her sandals and settled into the chair beside him with a sigh. She tucked her feet beneath her and smoothed her denim skirt.
“Thanks.” He drew a long sip. “This is great.”
“You’re welcome.” Her voice was light, almost musical with its lilting southern accent. The sound never grew old. “Was it odd, watching the game today from the sidelines instead of running plays on the field?”
He found it difficult to gather his voice, make anything more than a croak come from his throat, as he studied the delicate hands clasped in her lap. Her fingers were bare, and he wondered what happened to the promise ring he’d given her. He’d spent hours agonizing over just the right setting, the perfect stone. Back then, the small amount of money he’d spent had seemed like a fortune, but he wouldn’t have changed things for the world. Did she still have it, tucked safely away somewhere? Or maybe she’d flushed it down the toilet after he left that night.
He lightened his tone to cover the way his heart raced at her closeness. “It did feel a little odd, but I never knew what I was missing all those years on the field. You have quite a...um...voice.” He cupped a hand to the side of his head. “I think I’ve lost some of the hearing in my left ear.”
“Sorry. I get pretty caught up.”
“I had no idea. It’s hard to hear anything from the stands when you’re on the field, wearing a helmet and intent on calling the perfect plays.”
She gave him a wry grin. Her eyes were dark-chocolate covered almonds beneath the warm glow of moonlight. “So all that cheering I did for you over the years, all the times I suffered post-game laryngitis, was pointless?”
“Oh no, not pointless at all. I knew you were there, and it made a huge difference for me.”
“How’s that?”
“Just knowing...that you cared enough to come, to share it all with me.”
“Your dad came, too. He never missed a home game. We used to sit together and share a bag of roasted peanuts.”
“I know. Sometimes I’d look up, through the glare of sunlight, and I’d see the two of you sitting there together in a sea of orange and I’d just get...choked up. My dad always liked you. He still asks about you, from time to time.”
“And you tell him...?”
“I don’t know. What’s there to tell? We’ve gone way too long without talking, Lex. I’ve missed it.”
She stiffened in the chair, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. “I’ve been here.” Her voice was a bit high-pitched, a bit tight and strained. “You went away.”
“I know. But I’m back.”
“For how long?” Disappointment flashed across her eyes. “It’s been six years, Cooper. A lot has changed. I’ve changed. Things have happened...things you don’t—couldn’t—know anything about.”
“But I want to know.” He leaned forward and grasped her hand, held on. “You have to talk to me, Lex. You have to trust me.”
“I can’t...not like this.” She turned her head, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “It’s complicated, Cooper.”
He put down his iced tea and tucked his hand beneath her chin, gently tugged her toward him. “Nothing’s so complicated that it can’t be worked through...worked out.”
She pulled back, shook her head so silky blonde hair danced over her shoulders like waves. A tear splashed his hand. “I used to believe that, too. But time has changed things. You leaving the way you did—that changed things, too, Cooper, at least for me. You can’t just come back, show up, and think things will pick up right where they left off. It’s not fair, Cooper.”
“I’m sorry, Lex.”
“You’ve already said that. And it means a lot to me, really it does. But knowing you’re sorry doesn’t change what happened, and it can’t change things now.”
He felt as though he were falling off a cliff, as though the ground was coming up fast to meet him. “Maybe we could just...take things slow. See what happens.”
“No!” She sprang up, paced the length of porch with a fist pressed to her mouth. “That’s impossible, Cooper.”
“Why, Lex?”
She turned to face him, cheeks wet with tears. Her voice was high-pitched, strained, and the melodic southern lilt was even more pronounced. “What you’ve done for Andy—the attention you’ve shown him—means the world to me. No one’s been that kind to him since he moved here, or before, for that matter. And the garden at Thursday’s Child...well, the kids love it. I love it. I’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done. But nothing can happen between us, Cooper—nothing.” She turned toward the front door, opened the screen. It squeaked on its hinges, eerily rending the warm night air. “I’m going inside now. You...you’d better leave.”
He sprang to his feet, ignoring the sudden tug of pain in his knee. “Wait. Just give me a minute.” But when he reached for her, she sidestepped to the left like a startled doe.
All the times her eyes had begged him to stay...the times she’d wanted him...and he’d left, just like that. Now the tables were turned and he knew...
...it’s like losing her all over again.
“Please, Cooper. I really have to go inside, so...goodnight.”
He longed to hold her, to kiss away the doubt. In the past, he might have let impatience force his hand. But now, instead, he swallowed hard and jammed his hands deep into his pockets.
When he spoke, his voice was gentle as the night breeze that danced around them. “OK, Lex. Goodnight...for now. I’ll wait while you lock up.”
10
Her heart beat so fast it threat
ened to leap from her chest. Perspiration drowned the pink T-shirt she’d donned just thirty minutes ago, but Lexi felt as though she couldn’t run fast enough to chase away the demons.
“This pace is killing me, Lex.” Renee’s running shoes pounded the blacktopped trail as she struggled to keep up. “You’ve got to slow down.”
Though it went against her desire to sprint until she simply dropped from sheer exhaustion, Lexi eased her speed into a kinder, gentler rhythm. “Sorry.”
Renee fell into step beside her, arms pumping overtime, her breath coming in short, raspy gasps. “Where’s the fire?”
“What fire?”
“The one you’re running from.”
“Oh, that.” She sucked a deep breath through her nose, let it out slowly by way of her mouth as her heart rate eased with the milder pace. “Cooper took Andy and me to the Orange and White game yesterday.”
“What? He what?” Renee slammed on the brakes and turned to gape, her face flushed from the warm late-afternoon sun. She propped her hands on her hips. “OK, Lex, spill the beans. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. You’re aware Cooper’s been coming by the center for a while now to play ball with the kids—”
“And to till a garden and install a sprinkler system—and he bought a truckload of new equipment for the gym.”
“He did? I didn’t know about that.”
“Now you do.”
“And he’s showing Andy the ropes...teaching him football moves and stuff. They’ve really hit it off. Andy’s like a different kid. He made A’s on two projects and a math test last week.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m dead serious.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“I know. Who would have imagined, given the situation, that Cooper would be such a good influence on him?”
“So, what’s the problem? Sounds like a good thing to me.”
“On the surface, yes.” Lexi shrugged, took a deep breath and motioned toward the trail. “Can we keep moving, please? I need to run.”
“OK.” They eased back onto the boulevard trail. The scent of lilacs clung to a slight breeze, and cotton-candy clouds blanketed the sun. “And beneath the surface?”
Lexi struggled to let Renee set the pace, though she longed to tear things wide open. “It’ll crush Andy when Cooper leaves again.”
“Andy...or you?”
“Don’t be silly, Renee.” Lexi wasn’t sure if the strain in her voice was caused by the oppressive humidity...or the sudden onslaught of tangled emotions. “I’ve been over Cooper for a long time. It’s ancient history.”
“Is it? You can’t run away forever, Lex.”
“I’m not running away.”
“Oh, I think you are.”
Lexi’s gaze fell. She stumbled over her own two feet, caught herself before she did a header into the pavement. Her heart raced double-time as she found her footing.
“He-he told me he’s sorry...for what happened.”
Renee stopped again, grabbed Lexi’s shoulders and spun her around. “You told him...about Luke?”
She shook from Renee’s grasp and paced the pavement like a caged animal. “No. Of course not.”
“Then what is he sorry about?”
“That he hurt me. He told me he’s sorry. He asked me to forgive him. He wants to...spend some time together, see how things go. What am I supposed to do, Renee? After all this time, all the hurt, what do I do?”
“You’re not—”
“—over him, am I?” Lexi finished with a sob. “Oh, Renee. This is...bad.”
Renee uncapped her water bottle and tipped her head back to down a long swig. When she recapped the bottle and looked at Lexi again, bright green eyes held steady and true. “I’m not downplaying what he did, Lex, or the pain you’ve been through. But have you ever considered—even for a moment—that he might be hurting, too?”
“No, I...”
“Thought so. Just think about it from that angle, will you?”
“I don’t know if I can, Renee.”
“I’ve been friends with you for a long time, and I knew Cooper, too, when you two were...together.” She sighed and slapped her thigh. “Lexi, I think you should tell him...about what happened. About Luke.”
“No!” Lexi pressed a fist to her mouth. “I can’t.”
“He has a right to know. He made a child...lost a child...and he doesn’t even know.” Renee crossed her arms, lifted her chin in a challenge. “Besides, you’re still hurting, Lex, and it’s not going to go away. Not until—”
She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re right. The hurt will never go away.”
“But it doesn’t have to hobble you, Lex.”
“I’m not—” She paused, sank to a concrete bench along the running trail. Was Renee right? Was she...hobbled? She felt suddenly winded, as if she’d just finished the last grueling leg of a marathon.
Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you...Wasn’t it Renee, during the darkest times, who printed Psalm 55:22 on a scrap of paper and taped it to the bathroom mirror for Lexi to see—and remember—each day?
“I have to sit for a moment, Renee. I need to sort this out. I...I need to pray.”
“I’ll sit here with you, Lex.” Renee slipped onto the bench beside her and took her hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll pray, too.”
****
“What are these?” Lexi picked up one of the colorful flyers that were stacked on the lobby counter when she returned to the Thursday’s Child center later that day.
“Information on a fundraiser,” Renee told her. “Read it.”
Lexi scanned the headline, drank in the fine-print details. She couldn’t believe what she read.
“The Vols are coming here next Saturday for a football camp and autograph signing?”
“Not all the players, just the ones who know Cooper personally.”
Lexi’s arms crossed defensively. She felt her gaze narrow. “Cooper—what does he have to do with this?”
“He arranged it. He’s sponsoring the day, paying the expenses, and all the cash we bring in is pure profit.” She took the flyer from Lexi, set it back on the stack and began to organize the information bulletins spread across the polished countertop. “The camp is already full—we have a waiting list. And I’m sure we’ll have lines a mile long for autographs.”
“But how? When?” Lexi sputtered. “When did you plan this, and how did it get by without me knowing?”
“Cooper approached me about it a few weeks ago. We worked through the details and he had the flyers printed up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He was afraid you’d nix the idea. You haven’t been very...well...cooperative with him lately.”
“Cooperative—what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re angry, Lex, and it’s getting in the way of everything else.”
She fought the urge to stomp her foot. “I am not angry.”
“OK—you’re not angry. So, go call Cooper and thank him. Oh, and tell him we can meet at two this afternoon to iron out the final details. Channel Ten News will be here at four to do an interview that will help promote the event.”
“The news—today?”
“Yeah, Lex.”
She ran a hand through her hair, still damp from the quick shower she indulged in following their run. “Renee...if you weren’t my friend I’d—”
“You can thank me later. Now, we need to go over the budget for the summer programs once more, tighten up the numbers before Cooper arrives.” She handed Lexi her cell phone. “Call Cooper—his number’s in my contact list—then meet me in my office so we can talk. Oh, and grab a couple cans of soda on your way back. That run left me parched.”
****
“The promo spot is perfect,” Cooper said as they huddled around Lexi’s desk to watch it run on the evening edition of the news. “The team real
ly did a good job.”
“I have to agree.” Lexi sipped a diet cola. “I love the spontaneous clips they shot of the kids. It shows the heart of the reason Thursday’s Child exists.”
“And that footage of you tossing the ball with the kids...” Renee chimed in. “Well, it’s priceless, Cooper.”
He shrugged. “I can’t take the credit. Andy’s a natural on camera. When he’s done playing football, he might have a career as an announcer.” He reached for a slice of pepperoni pizza from the box that lay open across Lexi’s desk. The aroma of spicy marinara sauce and garlic-glazed breadsticks filled the room. “We should have a healthy turnout if the weather cooperates.”
“If not, we’ll just move things indoors.” Already, Lexi’s mind whirled with the logistics...just in case “We can manage that. There’s plenty of space.”
A shadow fell across the doorway.
“Miss Renee?” Blakely, the quiet, dark-haired college girl who worked the front counter in the evenings, rapped softly on the door. “There’s someone here to see you about a summer program. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
“Thank you, Blakely. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
When Renee left, the room felt oddly quiet. The newscast had ended, and Lexi switched off the portable TV perched on top of a file cabinet across from her desk. She scooted into the chair across from Cooper and tried not to breathe in the scent of his aftershave or notice how the navy polo shirt intensified the mysterious smoky-gray of his eyes.
“We should have told you about the camp before...when we were planning things,” Cooper said as he reached for a second slice of pizza. “Don’t be mad at Renee. She wanted to say something to you, but I talked her out of it.”
“It’s OK.” Lexi took a breadstick and bathed it in marinara sauce. “I should have told you before, when I called you earlier about our meeting, but I let my pride get in the way—thank you, Cooper. I really...appreciate what you’re doing for us—for the kids.”
