by Claire Adams
Kevin shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t really know. It’s not so black and white. I wish it were.”
“You’re basically coming out here and telling us that you knew what your brother was going to do, yet you decided to do nothing about it. Just sit there and be a bystander while your brother did something really shitty to someone else.”
“I’m not proud of how I handled it. And part of me just hoped that maybe the two of you would hit it off and you’d like him and he’d get what he wanted without feeling like he had to take something from you.” He shook his head. “I realize how ridiculous that all sounds. And I also realize how cowardly it was of me. There’s no excuse for it. I have a daughter of my own now, and I can’t stand the thought of her ever being around someone like my brother. But he was planning on doing something else, too. He was going to drive up to Boulder the next morning, go to the open air mall on 29th Street, and shoot as many people as he could. He’d gotten two AR-15s from this guy that was a friend of our father’s. Or used to be; he started to get really into all these government conspiracies, and my parents stopped seeing him. But Isaac didn’t, and he somehow got these two guns from him. I don’t know if he stole them or bought them from the guy or what—I didn’t ask. And I didn’t tell anyone because Isaac said he’d kill me if I did.”
Wren folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. “So you thought it was better to let him go commit a mass shooting.”
“I was scared. And I’m not proud of how I handled it. But that’s what Isaac was planning to do the very next day. He hadn’t told anyone but me. He didn’t want me to be a part of it, to go with him, but he couldn’t keep the thing to himself. He needed to share it with someone, and he knew that I wouldn’t tell anyone. He knew I’d keep his secret for him. Which I did. I always have, up until now.” Kevin took a deep breath and looked skyward. “And the reason I’m telling you now is because I want you to know that you did what I couldn’t do, even if you didn’t realize it. On more than one count. You prevented a sexual assault from happening, and you also prevented him from carrying out his plan. You might always feel guilty for taking a life, but by doing so, you spared a lot of other people.”
I could only stand there, my brain trying to process everything he said. Was he just making this up? It wouldn’t make sense for him to do that, so I had to believe it was true. Did that make a difference? Did it make me feel better that the person I had killed had been someone who was planning to do some awful things?
“I realize this is a lot of information to just have confronted you with,” Kevin said. “And maybe it won’t make you feel any less guilty—I don’t know. But I have been plagued with guilt own my own because of my inability to do anything. It hasn’t ruined my life, but it’s come close because it’s changed the way I see myself, and not for the better.”
It almost felt as though he needed me to absolve him from that, to say the words that might make his guilt go away. I didn’t know what words those were, though. I didn’t know if I felt any less guilty because of what he’d just said.
“My parents thought that the worst thing in the world was Isaac getting killed,” Kevin said, “but they didn’t realize what he’d been planning to do. I could never tell them that. But if he’d done it, if he’d actually gone through with it—that would’ve been the end of them. There’s no way they would have been able to live with themselves. The details were sketchy enough with what happened between you two that they could tell themselves Isaac hadn’t been in the wrong; he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They could feel bad for him as the victim because they didn’t know the details. Do I miss my brother? I do. I miss the brother I remember, not the one who seemed completely detached from society and just wanted to do harm to other people. I have a few good memories of him, and that’s what I miss.”
“You never came forward with that?” Wren asked.
“Why would I have? He was dead. He wasn’t going to be able to hurt anyone. I thought it was over with.” He looked at her, frowning. “You didn’t come forward, either. I knew your first name, but I didn’t know your last, and I kept waiting for you to come forward, but that never happened. Until now, anyway.”
The three of us stood there for a minute, no one saying anything. In the distance, way overhead, I could hear the sound of a plane. There were people in that plane, flying somewhere, maybe going home, maybe going on a vacation. It seemed strange to think of them tens of thousands of miles in the air, like it seemed to strange to think of the way that life just happened, how one decision can change the course of it all in an instant.
The knowledge of what Keith had just said would take a long time to sink in, I knew, but I held my hand out to him. He hesitated and then shook it.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for coming out here to tell us this. I know that probably wasn’t easy.”
“It wasn’t. But nothing is easy, and just for once, I wanted to do the right thing.”
After he left, Wren and I just stood there, looking in the direction his car had just driven off in.
“Did that just happen?” Wren asked. “Or was that some sort of extraordinarily realistic daydream?”
“It wasn’t a daydream—that just happened. And I kind of feel bad for the guy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know—he just looked so haunted. I mean, I believe him when he says that his guilt over the whole thing is eating him alive.”
“I’m somehow finding it difficult to feel bad for him.”
“That’s not what he was looking for. I don’t think he wanted us to pity him.”
She bit her lower lip, a frown on her face. “Do you believe what he said? About his brother planning to go shoot up a mall?”
“I’m not sure. It doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing someone would make up. I believe that his brother told him he was going to do it; whether or not he would have, we don’t really have a way of knowing.”
“But if he would have, you prevented that from happening.” Wren’s furrowed brow relaxed as she looked up at me. “And if that’s the case, then you saved a lot of people’s lives.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
And that was the thing—there was no way to know, because you couldn’t go back and change the past. But even if you could, I didn’t think I would. I pulled Wren to me, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. She smiled and slid her hands underneath my shirt, her palms warm on my lower back.
“You’re my hero, you know,” she said. “And I mean that. I love you.”
I squeezed her against me. “I love you, too.”
Life had not been particularly easy so far, but maybe that was the point—if life, if love, weren’t hard, it would be easy to just take it for granted, to not appreciate it for what it really was.
Epilogue
Wren
Two years later
Two minutes.
That’s how long I was supposed to wait.
Instead of just sitting there, though, and ticking the seconds off in my head, I got up and walked out into the living room. Summer was winding down, and it had definitely been a success, both here at the ranch and at the restaurant.
I sat down on the couch and looked at the framed photo on the side table. It was of Ollie and me, six months ago, on our wedding. We got married here on the ranch, near the quarry, at sunset. The photo is of the two of us, the warm orange light bathing us both an almost ethereal glow. I wore a simple white A-line dress, something I’d found at the vintage shop and got for ten dollars. It was a rather small affair, and we had the reception at the restaurant.
This past season was the first that Ollie had been running the ranch for Garrett and Marie—they’d decided to buy an RV and tour the country for a year. They’d be returning in the fall, and it was up in the air what their plan was after that. Ollie and I were living together in one of the cabins, and eventually, we’d move up to the main
house.
I looked out one of the windows and could see Ollie coming out of the barn. He’d be heading up to the house soon; the people he was supposed to take out on a ride had decided to go into town and do the ride tomorrow. I thought about waiting for him to get up here and both of us look at the test, but then I decided I wanted to be able to tell him myself. And if it was negative, then I didn’t even need to mention that I’d taken it in the first place. But I’d felt strange for the past week or so, and my period was late, though it had been late before, and I hadn’t been pregnant.
I went into the bathroom, knowing the two minutes had definitely passed. It was probably more like three. I took a deep breath and then reached over and picked the pregnancy test up off the counter.
Two pink lines.
I heard a creak as the screen door opened and then slapped shut, followed by a thumping as Ollie stomped his boots on the floor mat.
“Wren?” he called out.
I met him in the kitchen, the hand holding the pregnancy test behind my back.
“Hey,” he said. He kissed me softly on the lips. “How’s everything?”
The smile on my face got bigger. “Everything is great,” I said. “Actually, I have some exciting news.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I hadn’t told him that I was going to take a test; we weren’t actively trying to have a baby, but we also weren’t not trying, either. We’d talked about it and decided that if it happened, it did, and if not, that was okay too; we could be happy with it being just the two of us. And that was true—I knew I could be completely content if it were just him and me, and I had my restaurant and he had the ranch, and our little family was made up of just the two of us. That would have been perfectly fine, and I knew he felt the same way, too.
But it looked like that wasn’t going to be the case after all.
Ollie was still looking at me expectantly.
With a smile on my face, I held out the test and told him the good news.
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BAD COACH
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Eryn
The tension in the air was almost tangible. Everyone's nerves were on edge, everyone's breath was held, and my team was collectively hanging in the balance. After four hard-fought rounds, it had come down to this one play. The games were tied up at two apiece, and we stood at the ready to defend our one-point lead. At 14 to 13, this could be the deciding play. If we took this point, we'd take the game and the match.
Our opponent, however, had the serve. I was positioned at the net on the left: my favorite position. I watched the serve come in, waited for it to be received – which it successfully was – and then sent back over the net.
Over the net…and right in the direction of their two best players, Kelly and Tammy. They always worked as a pair, and I could see the setup for a spike coming from a mile away. I dashed in fast and low, correctly anticipating the spike, and managed to block it with a low dive. In the process, I set it up for a perfect counter-spike, which my best friend Leena smashed with almost poetic perfection.
The ball zipped between two players and bounced just inside the line. We had the point.
My team let out a cheer of victory, and we all rushed in to hug each other. I gripped Leena tightly, smiling and basking in the joy of our victory.
“That was a perfect block!” she exclaimed. “How did you see that spike coming?”
I shrugged as I detached myself from our embrace. “K and T weren't exactly subtle with their movements. I saw it coming.”
“Really? ‘Cause, I didn't.”
I glanced across and saw the pair of them glaring daggers at me. They were clearly not happy about the fact that I'd ruined what they had thought was a perfect setup maneuver. I couldn't understand why they were so mad, though. It was just practice, wasn't it?
The harsh blast of a whistle jolted me from my thoughts.
“All right, ladies, gather round! Before y’all hit the showers, I just want to tell you about this coach situation.”
My practice team, the second string, mingled with the team of starters we had been playing against and gathered around Coach Hatting. Coach Hatting had temporarily come out of retirement to coach us over the past few weeks while the powers that be searched for a new coach. His small, blue eyes swept across the crowd of young women in front of him while he chewed gum, causing his square, stubble-covered jaw to move back and forth like a bull's and crinkle the heavy wrinkles around his eyes.
“Now, as y’all know, today was my last practice with you ladies. I'm too old for this, gosh darn it. And as much as I love the game, I've got a beach house that needs fixing and a fishing boat that ain't seeing nearly enough use. I only came out of retirement because of the incident involving your previous coach, but we ain't gonna speak about that now. Water under the bridge.
“You all did well today – and some of you did exceptionally well.” A rush of nerves washed over me as his eyes met mine.
“Miss Barnett,” he said to me, “only God knows why you haven't been on the starting lineup the last two years, but if I had been the coach during your time here, you'd have been a starter for every single game.”
I couldn't help but blush and feel a gush of pride – and sadness at the same time. Coach Hatting was right. For three preseasons, I'd worked my butt off, but had never been picked for the starting lineup. The team all had theories as to why that was, but of course, we couldn't say anything – not until the allegations against our former coach had been proven.
“Anyways, Miss Barnett, I'll be speaking to the new coach about you and giving him a strong recommendation that you be included in the lineup. And you as well, Miss Sykes,” he said, looking now at Leena.
“As for the rest of you, some of those who have been consistently placed on the starting line…well, I have to be honest. If it were up to me, some of you would be warming benches. I'll be speaking to the new coach about that, too, mark my words.”
Leena and I both discreetly glanced across at Tammy and Kelly. Their faces reddened with what I was certain to be both embarrassment and rage. Both had been starters since our freshman year, regardless of their performance. Now for the first time, the certainty that they would simply make the starting lineup without putting in any effort wasn’t as secure as they might have thought, and the looks on their faces said they didn't like it – not one bit.
“Before I say my farewells,” Coach Hatting continued, “let me tell you a bit about the new coach. First up, he's a lot younger than I am – and I'd say a sight better looking, too, so you young ladies better keep your eyes on the ball and not the piece of eye candy that's coming in!”
We all laughed, and Coach Hatting chuckled at his own joke. Despite his often harsh attitude on the court, he had a soft heart underneath it all.
“The new coach’s name hasn’t been announced to the press yet. The board wanted you ladies to hear it first. But, it will be public knowledge later this evening. His name is Wade Vinson. I'm sure most of you have heard of him.”
A ripple of hushed whispers rolled through the gathered volleyball players, and I knew exactly why.
Wade Vinson was something of a celebrity, not only in the volleyball world, but in the gossip magazines and tabloids, as well. He'd recently split from a two-year relationship with Hollywood A-list actress Georgia Jackson amidst a storm of controversy and rumors. It had been all over the press and social media a few months back.
“As y’a
ll know, Mr. Vinson is an ex-pro and won Olympic gold, so he knows his stuff. And, y’all know how he helped coach the UCLA men's team to a top spot two years in a row, so we're really hoping he can do the same for you.
“Also, he happens to be a graduate of this very university, though I’m sure some of you know that, too. He and his teammates put Florida State University on the map in the volleyball world. I should know, I coached him back in the day when he was a rising star here. And I can tell you, the man has skills on the volleyball court!
“Anyways, he'll be here on Monday to start practices. I wish you young ladies all the best. There's some fantastic potential, some amazing talent right here in front of me, and I sure do hope that Mr. Vinson puts his all into developing it as best he can. As for me – that's all for now, folks. It's been a good – if tiring – few weeks.”
“Thank you, Coach Hatting!” many of us shouted together.
He smiled, and I almost thought I caught sight of tears sparkling in his eyes as he waved goodbye to us. Then, he turned around and shuffled off. The girls started to disperse, picking up water bottles, towels, and gym bags, and heading to the locker room to hit the showers.
Leena and I gathered our things and talked on the way to the showers.
“I'm actually kinda sad to see Coach Hatting go,” I confided. “He's been so good, and I’ve learned a few things from him. Not to mention, he’s so fair.”
“Yeah, he's really great,” replied Leena, “but how cool is it that Wade freakin' Vinson is coming to coach us! Like, oh my God! Not only is he a gold medalist and former pro, but he's super hot, too.”
She giggled, and I leaned into her shoulder with mine playfully.
“Come on, Leena, don't be ridiculous.”
“What? You don't think he's just gorgeous?”
I rolled my eyes. “All right, he's pretty damn good looking. But from what I hear, he's a bit of a douchebag, and you know with all this Hollywood gossip stuff and him being involved in those kind of circles, the odds are those rumors are likely true. And jeez, what are we even doing talking about him like that! I mean, he's like 30-something. Seriously. I'm 21, you're 20. He's old!”
