by Regina Hart
Thursday morning, Troy rode the Amtrak express train from Manhattan’s Penn Station to Union Station in Washington, D.C. He arrived in time to have lunch with his parents. The home-cooked meal brought warm memories. But even those were tainted by the reason he’d returned.
Troy settled into the overstuffed, rose-patterned armchair. “Thanks again for lunch, Mom.”
Danielle Marshall lowered herself onto the matching love seat beside his father. She adjusted the skirt of her pink coatdress. “It wasn’t any trouble. You so rarely come home anymore.”
Troy struggled against a smile at his mother’s not-so-subtle attempt to make him feel guilty. “I was just home for Easter.”
“You arrived Friday night and left after church Sunday morning. That wasn’t a visit. That was a drive-by.” Danielle sniffed and crossed her slender legs.
Charles Marshall squeezed his wife’s hand and linked their fingers. “He had to work, Dani. The Monarchs had a game that night.”
Danielle remained stubborn. “They have a game tonight, too.”
Game five versus the New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden. The Monarchs had split the series with their hometown rivals at two games a piece. Tonight’s tiebreaker was critical. Troy checked the clock above the fireplace. He needed to make the five o’clock Amtrak express back to New York for the nine o’clock tip-off.
“He’s here now, Dani.” His father’s ebony eyes met Troy’s. “What’s wrong, son?”
Was he ready to answer that question? It didn’t matter. Troy straightened in his chair and took a breath. “I need to know if you’ve both forgiven me for marrying Susan.”
His parents exchanged a look before Charles responded. “That was fifteen years ago.”
Troy’s gaze shifted between his parents. They were both in their sixties. Their dark brown hair was peppered with gray. They’d collected more laugh lines around their eyes and mouths. But otherwise they hadn’t changed much since he was a child. Their active, healthy lifestyle had always inspired him.
“I know it’s been a long time, Dad. But I also know I disappointed you and Mom.” The words weren’t spoken easily. They pulled him back to a dark place.
Charles still looked baffled. “But that was fifteen years ago.”
Danielle patted her husband’s thigh. Her hands were slim with neatly manicured pink nails against the tan material of Charles’s khaki pants. “That’s not the point, Charlie. We were so busy dealing with the situation that we never stopped to talk about it.”
Troy squared his shoulders. “You never said it, but I sensed you were disappointed.”
Danielle shook her head. Her brown curls bobbed around her softly rounded features. “We were never disappointed in you. We were disappointed for you.”
Charles grunted. “No, I was disappointed in you. I’d taught you about condoms and safe sex.”
Troy dragged his hand over his hair. “She said she was on the pill.”
Danielle glared at her husband before looking at Troy. “We should have done a better job preparing you to know when people are trying to take advantage of you.”
Charles grunted again. He smoothed the blunt fingers of his right hand over his wavy salt-and-pepper hair. “That lesson wouldn’t have stuck any better than the condom lesson.”
“That’s not fair, Dad.” Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
Charles ignored the interruption. “We also tried to teach you patience. That didn’t stick, either. By the time you told us about the situation, you were already married. You’d given up your scholarship, quit the team, and gotten a job. Obviously, you didn’t learn anything.”
Danielle shook her head as though she’d mentally traveled back to that frustrating time. “Troy has always been impulsive. Most first babies are late. He was early.”
Troy had heard that story before. “I’d made a mistake and was trying to fix it.”
“Instead you made additional mistakes.” Charles’s voice was more contemplative than angry or disappointed.
Danielle freed her hand from her husband’s hold and smoothed her dress again. “Son, we weren’t upset because you thought you’d gotten your girlfriend pregnant—”
Charles raised his hand. “I was.”
Danielle patted her husband’s knee. “All right. We were upset about that. I also was upset that instead of coming to us, you rushed to take care of the situation by yourself. Only to have it turn out that Susan wasn’t even pregnant.”
Charles shifted on the love seat. “It’s been fifteen years. Why do you want to discuss this now?”
Why do I? Troy stood. He rubbed the back of his neck as he circled the armchair. “Yeah, Dad, it’s been a long time. And I need to let go of the past. I can be impatient, although I’ve learned the benefits of planning. I’m still impulsive, but I’ve seen the value of talking things over with other people.” Specifically Andrea. Troy turned to pace back across the Oriental rug to his chair.
Danielle tilted her head. “Recognizing those things about yourself is a good sign.”
Troy stilled. He hooked his hands on his hips. “But it’s only the first step. I need to talk with Susan.”
His parents again exchanged a look before Charles spoke. “Why?”
He frowned at his father. “I need to put the past to rest, and she’s an important part of that past.”
His father grunted. “That sounds like pop psychology crap.”
Danielle scowled at her husband. “Troy has a point, Charlie. The reason we’re still talking about this now is that we didn’t talk about it before.”
Charles shrugged. “You have.”
Troy frowned at his mother’s wide-eyed expression. “Who’ve you been talking with, Mom?”
Danielle’s slender shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Susan. And I only spoke with her twice.”
Troy’s skin chilled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Danielle shot a glare at an unrepentant Charles before answering Troy. “Every time we mentioned Susan’s name, you’d clam up. We didn’t think you’d want to talk with her.”
Troy sank onto the armchair. “When did you speak with her?”
Danielle frowned as though trying to remember. “She called us about ten years ago, after she divorced her first husband.”
Charles interrupted. “Troy was her first husband.”
Danielle’s sigh was impatient. “Her second husband, then. She called me again a couple of months ago. She’s getting ready to marry Howard.”
Charles held up three fingers. “Her third.”
Danielle continued. “She wanted to apologize for the trouble she’d caused in the past.”
Troy leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “How can I get in touch with her?”
“How’d your interview with the Horn go this morning?” Willis leaned back in the chair behind his desk. It squeaked.
Andrea rested a shoulder against his doorjamb. “Bruce Donnelly offered me the job.”
Willis’s face lit with pleasure. “Congratulations.”
Andrea shook her head. “I turned him down.”
Willis sat up, causing his chair to squeak again. His green eyes widened. “Why? You’re going to be out of work in a month.”
“I know, Will.”
“Then why didn’t you take the job?”
Andrea’s gaze swept her editor’s office. She glanced over her shoulder. What was the difference between Sports and Horn? Not much that she could see.
She turned back to Willis. “Someone once told me not to accept my first job offer unless it’s for a really good company. Horn wasn’t the right fit for me.”
Willis shook his head in disbelief. “Is this person going to help you pay your bills?”
Andrea crossed her arms and returned her editor’s incredulous gaze. “If I’d taken the job at the Horn, I would have been going backward. I want a job that will advance my career.”
Willis gestured to the newsroom. “Most
of the other reporters already have another job lined up.”
Was he trying to make her nervous? “I’m happy for them. I truly am. But I have to do what’s best for me.” It felt good to say that.
Willis smoothed his lank gray hair. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”
Not exactly a ringing endorsement. Four years ago, if someone had said those words to her, she may have gone running for her phone to beg Bruce Donnelly to give her a job. But that was three years ago.
Strain had dug deep furrows across Willis’s forehead. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced. With New York Sports preparing to close, leaving Willis with a lot of outstanding debt, he had enough to worry about without adding her future to his list.
She straightened away from the doorjamb. “I do know what I’m doing. But what about you? What will you do once the paper closes?”
Willis propped his elbows on the table and balanced his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I put a lot of people in a tough financial spot. I feel really bad about that.”
“Bill Cosby once said, ‘People can be a lot more forgiving than you can imagine. But you have to forgive yourself.’ He’s right.”
Willis looked up. “Is this what it felt like for you after your Jackie Jones story?”
She couldn’t answer that because she didn’t know what it felt like for him. “Everyone’s journey is different. My point is, you hired reporters fresh out of college or, in my case, from a bad situation. Because you gave us a chance, we’ll be able to find other jobs. Focus on that.”
Willis nodded once. “Thanks, Benson.”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any illusions that you hired us for altruistic reasons. No one in their right mind would work for the pittance you paid. Still, it was an opportunity. And, most of the time, we could pay our bills.”
He gave her an embarrassed smile. “Sports was a start-up company. I didn’t have a lot of money.” His smile faded. “And now it’s folding.”
“Sports has been around for eight years. It was a good run, Will.” Andrea turned to leave.
Back at her desk, she noticed the message light blinking on her phone. She punched in her voice mail code, grabbed a nearby pad of paper, and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. The recording started and a male voice identified himself as a sports editor for The New York Times. He was calling to invite her for a job interview.
Andrea’s knees gave way. She fell into her seat.
24
Troy was going to forgive Susan, then ask Andrea for another chance. But as his ex-wife walked into his office Friday afternoon, his mind went blank except for one question, “Why’d you do it?”
Susan stopped just inside his doorway. “I was stupid.”
This was going to take a lot longer than he’d thought. Troy closed his door, then followed Susan across his office. He circled his desk, waiting for her to take one of the guest seats before lowering himself to his chair.
Troy considered the woman he’d married and divorced. The years had been kind to her. She was still slim. But her glossy, dark brown hair swung in a shorter style above her shoulders. More subtle makeup highlighted her cocoa features. He sensed a difference in her beyond these surface changes, but the anger snaking inside him made it hard to identify.
He pulled his chair farther under his desk. “We were both juniors. We probably would have gotten married after graduation. Why couldn’t you have waited?”
“I was also impatient.”
Troy unclenched his jaw. “Are you being flippant?”
Susan gripped the arms of the black cushioned chair. “No, Troy. I’m trying to apologize. I’ve wanted to for so long, but I don’t know how to start.”
Troy’s heart pounded in his chest like a breakaway offense with seconds on the clock. He was almost light-headed. “You can start by explaining why you lied to me. You cost me my scholarship and a shot at the NBA. Worst of all, you hurt my relationship with my parents.”
“None of that was supposed to happen.” Susan’s gaze wavered before returning to his. She blew out a deep breath. “You were my ticket to the glamorous life.”
“Funny. I thought I was your boyfriend.” His words were sour in his mouth.
Susan bit her lower lip. “I thought that if I told you I was pregnant, you’d enter the NBA draft. I never imagined you’d quit the team and get a job.”
“I told you I wanted my degree.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know. I thought you wanted to play basketball more.”
Years of anger blurred his vision. “So you gambled with my future and I lost.”
Susan breathed in and out again. “I’m truly sorry, Troy. I know that what I did was wrong. It was selfish. I regret hurting you.”
Troy stood and paced away from his desk. Away from Susan. “You did more than hurt me. You made a decision that changed my future.” He hooked his hands on his hips and glared through his office window at the cool waves of the marina and the full bloom of spring on the trees below.
Susan’s voice carried tentatively across the room. “I never should have lied to you. I was wrong. But, Troy, it was your decision to quit the team. And you were the one who said we should get married before we talked to your parents.”
Troy turned back to her. “You told me I was going to have a family to take care of. I couldn’t continue to play basketball. I had to earn a paycheck.”
Susan stood, clutching her rose handbag, which perfectly matched her linen pants suit. “You didn’t tell me you were going to give up your scholarship. You just did it.”
Troy ran his hand over his hair. “It seemed like a logical decision.”
“But it was your decision, not mine.” Susan spread her arms to encompass his office. “And it seems everything turned out fine for you. Your mother said you were happy.”
Troy scanned his office, lingering over the familiar awards and commendations. He was a successful executive working for an organization that was well regarded in the community. He hadn’t needed Andrea to tell him that. But she’d been right to insist he take responsibility for his actions. The realization shamed him.
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants. “Yes, I’m very happy.”
“And I’m very sorry. What more can I say?” Susan’s gaze appealed to him.
Now that he could think clearly, Troy realized he was verbally striking out at a college coed who no longer existed. She’d grown into a mature woman whose sincerity he couldn’t doubt. He heard it in her words and saw it in her expression. Troy returned to his desk.
“Please.” He gestured toward her chair. They both sat. “Why was it so important to you to apologize after all this time?”
A blush rose into her cheeks. “I’ve wanted to apologize to you for a while.”
“Why didn’t you?” Troy picked up his pen from his desk and rolled it between his right thumb and index finger. “You could have reached me through the Monarchs. The number’s listed.”
Susan crossed her legs and folded her hands on her right thigh. “After my second marriage fell apart, I took a hard look at my life.”
“It must have been easier with the divorce settlement. I heard you made out like a bandit.” He regretted the dig almost as soon as it was out of his mouth.
Susan inclined her head. “The decision was very generous. I asked the court to stop the payments ten years ago.”
Troy did the math. She’d ended her alimony one year after her divorce. “Why?”
“I wasn’t in love with Sam when I married him. But the divorce still left me with a lot of regrets, on top of the ones I had from our breakup. I wanted to start over.”
“Why didn’t you call me then?”
Susan shrugged. “I was ashamed, so I put the past behind me. It worked at first. I was building my consulting company and taking care of myself. And then I met someone. A couple of months ago, he asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, yeah?” Troy’s su
rprised gaze dropped to her ringless fingers.
Susan’s smile was unsteady. “I told him what I’d done and that I needed to at least apologize to you before I could plan for my future. I’ve already apologized to Sam.”
He heard Andrea telling him that with forgiveness came second chances. He wasn’t going to deny Susan a second chance at happiness. It’s what he wanted, too, with Andrea.
“You were right. I made my own decisions. Things didn’t turn out the way I’d planned, but I’m very happy. And I hope you will be, too.” Troy’s heart felt lighter than it had in more than a decade. He hadn’t realized how much of a burden it had been to carry that much hatred and resentment.
Susan’s smile bloomed into a grin. Her eyes shone like dark marbles. “Thank you, Troy. You don’t know how much your words mean to me.”
He dropped his pen. “I think I do.”
The sensation of freedom stole his breath. All this time he’d been too stupid to realize he’d been chained to his past. Now he could move forward toward his own future. His blood chilled. But, dear God, was he too late?
“Did you get the job?”
Andrea’s key was still in her apartment door Friday afternoon when Faith appeared out of thin air demanding answers. Her roommate had changed out of her business clothes and into baggy green sweatpants and an oversized white jersey displaying a red exclamation point.
Andrea freed her key from the lock. She squeezed past her roommate into the apartment and secured the door. “They offered it to me.”
Faith’s brown features lit like a firecracker on Independence Day. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful!”
Andrea observed her friend. She should be the one jumping up and down and screaming. She’d just secured a dream job with The New York Times weeks before New York Sports closed for good. She should be babbling with excitement. Instead she was numb.
“Thank you.” Andrea dropped her keys into her purse. Why didn’t she feel anything?
Faith’s enthusiasm stuttered and died. “Did you take the job?”
She started toward the living room. “I haven’t decided yet.”
