Just to See You Smile

by Sally John

  Her husband sat at the desk, eyes glued to the computer monitor, fingers tapping.

  She gave him a moment. Then another. “Alec.”

  “Mm-hmm. Just a sec.”

  She flumped onto an overstuffed armchair and swung her legs over the side. Alec could get lost in work any time of any day or night. He was a corporate trainer for a big company called Agstar. He taught managers how to manage others. Those others made or sold farm equipment. It sounded boring to her, but he thoroughly enjoyed the teaching aspect and working with a variety of people. And, it paid the bills. If they stuck to their budget, their needs were met and Anne didn’t have to work full-time. She helped out part-time at the pharmacy. During the winter, she coached the sophomore girls basketball team and assisted with the varsity. She was a PTA officer, Booster Club officer, and Mandy’s room parent.

  Alec continued typing. He wore his comfy, Sunday afternoon clothes: old brown cords and an ivory cable-knit sweater.

  The guy hadn’t changed much through the years. If anything, he had simply grown into the promise of what he had been as a teenager. She had fallen for him during her sophomore year, when he was the senior quarterback hero, homecoming king, and student council president. Energetic and focused, he was still good-looking, a cross between rugged and executive. At 5' 11", he wasn’t much taller than she was. He was more broad-shaped than lanky.

  It was those crinkly cinnamon eyes that had drawn her in the first time she passed him in the high school hallway over 20 years ago. He turned them toward her now, swiveling in the high-backed desk chair, and asked, “What’s up?”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “What didn’t work?”

  “Sending Drew alone to rent a video.” Their oldest had been driving for only a few months and had not yet wearied of running errands. “He didn’t get what the girls wanted. They’re all fussing at each other.”

  “So what’s new?”

  She went over to him and slid onto his lap, nestling into the arms he wrapped around her. A faint hint of his familiar, spicy Aramis cologne comforted her. She touched his rough cheek. “Alec, let’s go to the Pizza Parlor, have calzones. Just you and me.”

  “The kids—”

  “I’m not up for refereeing tonight.”

  “You’ve had a rough weekend. I’ll handle it.”

  “They need to learn to handle it. Drew can take the girls back to Swensen’s.” The grocery store carried a limited video selection, but it was their only source. The video store hadn’t yet re-opened after the owner was arrested a few weeks before.

  “I’ve got to finish up a couple of things here for a meeting first thing tomorrow morning. And, besides, it’s our family night. I feel like I haven’t seen the kids all week. Thanksgiving was full of relatives, and then we left for Chicago the next day. We are committed to our Sundays together, right?”

  Energetic and focused parents meant they had produced three children of the same ilk. Even before nine-year-old Mandy was born, they were all going different directions. They had carved Sundays into the schedule years ago. “Of course we’re committed to Sundays. I’m only talking an hour and a half to—”

  “Anne, we just told them about Kevin and Val this afternoon. How do you think they’re processing that?”

  “I don’t know how I’m processing that!”

  “Exactly. We all need to be together. It’ll give them security. They’re probably fussing because they feel a sense of loss. Bewilderment.”

  “I need to be with you.”

  “You’ll be with me here.”

  “Alone with you.”

  “Hey, we’re alone now.”

  She laid her head in the crook of his neck. “For two whole minutes. Then you’ll turn back to the computer, and Amy will walk in and announce in her 13-going-on-35-year-old voice, ‘Alec and Anne Sutton, your son is absolutely impossible!’ Then I’ll go fix soup and sandwiches.”

  He chuckled. “But at least we had the two minutes. They’ve got to be worth 60 at the noisy, over-priced Pizza Parlor.”

  “You just don’t get it, Alec.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. All I know is that I feel out of sorts here. I need to get out.”

  “Go see Val. Kevin should be gone by now.”

  “Her mother and Celeste are there. Besides, I think I should step back from that situation. It’s throwing me for a major loop.”

  “Annie, Kevin and Val will survive, independent of one another. He was never home anyway. They disconnected a long time ago. This is probably for the best.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Kids are resilient. There will be less stress in their home. Val can spread her wings a little more.”

  She sat up straight. “You’re defending him!”

  “No, I’m not. There’s no excuse for what he’s doing. What I’m saying is the end result could be some change for the good.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “But it’s not right! He’s causing irreparable damage to all of them! He shouldn’t get away with it!”

  “Shh.” He pulled her nearer again and pressed her face against his shoulder, catching a deep sob. “I know. I know.”

  How she hated crying! She hated feeling helpless. She hated the ugly words forming in her head, obscene words she wanted to scream at Kevin Massey.

  Alec’s arms tightened around her. There was a knock on the door. He called out, “We’re busy. Go away.”

  The door opened. Anne heard Amy’s voice. “Alec and Anne Sutton, your son is absolutely impossible! I don’t know how you raised— Mom! What’s wrong?”

  Alec answered, “She’s upset about Aunt Val. Go on, honey. We’ll be right out. Just give us two more minutes.”

  Anne spoke into his soft sweater, “Tell your brother to drive you and Mandy back to the store so you can all take care of it.”

  Amy sighed dramatically. “Thank you!”

  The door closed with a loud click.

  Alec kissed her wet cheek. “Got you four minutes, sweetheart, not just two. Worth 90 at the Pizza Parlor.”

  She sighed loudly, mimicking Amy’s performance. “Thank you!”

  “You okay?”

  She envisioned the next five hours. Alec would get back to work, she would prepare supper—at least it was a simple one—they would prompt the kids to discuss what they learned about God at church today, how it applied to real life. They would watch a video, after which she would clean up the kitchen, fall exhausted into bed, and start all over again tomorrow… It was simply what a wife and mom did. Just like Val had done for 17 years.

  Alec kissed her head and tightened his arms. “Annie?”

  She nodded against him. “I’ll be okay.”

  Maybe four minutes were better than none at all.

  Five

  “Jordan!” Britte called across the high school gymnasium. “Practice is over. Go home already!”

  “Ten more free throws, Coach,” she hollered back, bouncing a basketball. Its staccato beat resounded off the court’s hardwood floor. “Dad said I have to do 50 a day.”

  Britte stifled a sigh. “Watch the elbows!” She turned back to Anne, sitting beside her on the second row of bleachers, and muttered, “Jordan Hughes’ dad will be the death of me yet.”

  The assistant coach looked up from the clipboard on her lap, eyeing her over horn-rimmed reading glasses. “Fifty free throws a day is not bad advice.”

  “That isn’t the point. The man has been telling me how to do things ever since I joined the coaching staff. In six and a half years Jordan hasn’t missed one camp or league. Her dad hasn’t missed an opportunity to point out my mistakes.” Britte shook her shoulders as if someone had just told her there was an ugly bug crawling up her back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get off on that subject.”

  “First-game jitters.” Anne pushed her glasses up along her nose. “Or ego.”

  “Probably both. I mean, look at this lineup.” She pointed at the clipboard Anne held.
“I feel like we’re cheating! We’ve got five seniors who have played together since they were little tykes in rec leagues. Four of them are the fastest and smartest I’ve ever seen. And two of them are the tallest in the conference.”

  “Supersectionals this year?”

  Britte slapped her friend’s raised palm. “For sure.”

  “I see you’re pulling Jordan out before the end of the first quarter.”

  “Liz is more talented. Agreed?”

  “Agreed, but Liz is a junior, less experienced.”

  “She needs playing time, but I wanted to start all seniors this first game. It’s their big night. For most of them, it’s the beginning of the end of their career.”

  Anne shook her head. “You do such a great job straddling that fine line.”

  “What fine line?”

  “That one between focusing on the win and focusing on giving all the girls a chance to play, junior, senior, experienced, or not.”

  “Hey, we’re in this together, Miss Assistant Coach.” She smiled. Five years ago Britte was sophomore and assistant varsity coach. Anne had just joined the staff, taking over Britte’s former position coaching the freshman. Though the older woman’s basketball skills were rusty, Britte would have been lost without her influence. “You’re my anchor. I always count on you to make sure my head’s on straight.”

  Anne gave her a distant smile and set the clipboard on the bleacher. Propping her feet on the bleacher below, she leaned forward and crossed her arms over her knees. Dressed in warm-up pants and a T-shirt, hair tied back in its high, bouncy ponytail, she appeared her usual, relaxed self.

  But Britte sensed she wasn’t. “Annie, you’re not all here today.”

  She gazed away, a vacant look in her eyes. “Did you hear about Val and Kevin?”

  “No. What—”

  “Jordan!” Mr. Kingsley’s strong voice interrupted their conversation. He strode across the gym toward the lone team member. “You can’t stop on a miss!”

  “I told Coach I’d leave after 50.”

  “Throw another one.”

  The girl walked back to the free-throw line. Her shot missed.

  The principal hustled after the rebound, his yellow gold tie fluttering with the quick movement. His dress clothes—black slacks and royal blue shirt of some shiny fabric—added an elegance to his athletic movement. “Try it this way.” He passed the ball back to Jordan and went to her side.

  Even with his back to her, Britte overheard his advice in that distinct voice of his. She watched him mime a throw and then position the girl’s elbows. “Great,” she said under her breath, “another expert.”

  Jordan made the shot, and Mr. Kingsley applauded. “That’s it! One more time.”

  Anne removed her glasses. “Britte,” she said in an undertone, “why don’t you just admit it? You think he’s attractive.”

  She laughed quietly and murmured, “In your dreams, Mom.”

  “You don’t have to like him, but you’ve got to admit he is magnetic.”

  Mr. Kingsley strode toward the bleachers, watching Jordan over his shoulder. “Good. Five more.” He turned and greeted them. “Afternoon, ladies. I got your note, Anne. Sorry, I wasn’t available when you stopped by.”

  “No problem, Joel. I just, um…” She glanced around the gym.

  With a start, Britte realized her normally straightforward friend was at a loss for words. “Anne, should I leave?”

  “No, it’s what I was going to tell you.” She inhaled sharply. “Jason Massey’s father moved out Sunday. His parents have officially separated.”

  Britte groaned, “Oh, no.” She reached over and gave Anne’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Kingsley echoed the sentiment. “I’ll notify his teachers. We’ll all keep a close eye on him.”

  “Thanks. He and his mom told his coach last night, so he’s aware of the situation.”

  “Good. Miss O, you have Jason for geometry, right?”

  The man’s memory was astonishing. “Yes.”

  “I’ll schedule a session for him with the counselor. I can pull in the district’s psychologist, too. She’s better equipped to offer help in this type of situation.”

  “Joel,” Anne said, “will you talk with him? He’s going to connect better with a man, and he respects you. I know the counselor and the psychologist. They do a fine job, but, as my Drew said, guys sugarcoat things they say to their grandmothers. That’s what the kids call those women. Grandma.”

  Britte was glad to hear the usual punch underline Anne’s words.

  Mr. Kingsley’s eyes narrowed as if he was deep in thought. Always the professional, he stood with his feet slightly apart, his arms crossed. His long sleeves were rolled up his forearms, but the shirt collar was still buttoned to the neck behind the firmly knotted tie. He gave a curt nod. “Understandable. I’ll meet with him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for telling me. Anything else I can do for you? I’ll pray for the family.”

  “Now that,” Anne’s voice quivered, “covers everything.”

  “That’s been my experience. Miss O, have we missed anything?”

  She mentally conducted a split-second debate. His unexpected attention settled the issue. “On an unrelated matter.” She tilted her head toward the court where Jordan was still shooting. “There is the free-throw issue.”

  He raised his brows, deepening the ever-present furrows lining his forehead.

  Britte started. Eye contact! He stood a distance from the bleachers, and she noted only what she already knew. His eyes were not dark, nor were they a pale shade. “I mean, if she gets to the line in tomorrow night’s game, she’ll need that elbow-tuck reminder. Coming from you, it seems to have worked. How about you sit on the bench with us?”

  He laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you girls can take care of yourselves.” He walked away, still chuckling.

  Britte and Anne sat quietly. He exited through the open gym doors. His footsteps echoed in the hallway and then faded.

  Britte broke the silence. “Girls!”

  Anne smiled. “You deserved it, Coach. I think he got your not-so-subtle message that you know Jordan’s problem. That you don’t need his help.”

  “Hey, I was complimenting him on his ability to get through to her.”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe you could lighten up your tone a bit.”

  “Mollycoddle a Marine?”

  Jordan’s free throw twanged off the basket’s rim.

  “Britte—”

  “Notice he was wearing the school colors?” Adrenaline pumped straight to her jaw. She was on a roll. “You know why, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know why. There’s a boys game in Orion tonight. I think it’s great how he’s caught on, wearing royal blue and gold like so many of the fans do.”

  “Did he wear that shirt or even that tie to our games last week?” Their team schedules were identical. Anne’s sophomore game always preceded her varsity’s.

  Anne paused. “He didn’t come to our games.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, Britte, they were more like scrimmages. Preseason stuff. Two away games with nonchallenging, nonconference teams. Alec didn’t even come to watch me coach, and he always comes. Amy had tests and Mandy was sick; I told him not to bother. Maybe Joel’s not even going tonight.”

  “Want to bet? I suspect he’s like most of the male administrators in our school history, from 1909 on. Like the entire male coaching staff, Tanner Carlucci excepted.” She referred to the freshmen girls coach. “Just like my brothers. They believe there is not a shred of evidence to indicate that God endowed woman with the ability to play basketball.”

  Anne howled with laughter.

  “Brady actually said that to me when I was in high school.”

  “Well,” she wiped her eyes, still giggling, “let’s not forget anything your big brother ever teased you about!”

  “He was serious! He denies it now, b
ut I suspect it’s what he truly believes deep down. You know girls sports are low on the totem pole around here.”

  Anne stood and stretched. “Things are changing. We do have Tanner.”

  “Tanner was raised correctly and in Rockville, which is not as backward as Valley Oaks. And besides, he’s only a part-timer. He’s not going to change the attitude here.”

  “Hey, it’s a start. I hesitate to ask, but are you coming to the game tonight?”

  “Of course. I support all of our athletic events, whatever the gender, whatever the location.” She looked over Anne’s shoulder and called out, “Good work, Jordan! See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Coach!” The girl waved from the gym door.

  “Britte, did you hear what he said?”

  She met Anne’s gaze. “I heard.”

  “He’ll pray about it. When was the last time you heard a principal say that?”

  “Never.”

  “Me, neither. He’s a good one, Britte. Mark my word. He is a good one.”

  Yeah, well, I still don’t feel much of a connection.

  Six

  Alec stretched from the driver’s seat and took hold of Anne’s hand. “I think Jesus would sit next to Kevin.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Mandy and Amy sat in the far back seat of the minivan, the reading lights on, doing homework as they sped along the dark highway to their brother’s game at another school. Amy’s CD music played through the rear speakers. The girls were out of earshot.

  She watched her husband for a moment, his face somber in the reflected console light. “I know.” Her stomach knotted. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “I want to punch Kevin, not treat him with kindness. At the very least I want to ostracize the rat.”

  “Jesus ate dinner with rats and healed their diseases. If I don’t show Kevin that type of love, who will?”

  “Haven’t we shown him that all along, and didn’t he just throw it back in our faces?”

  “That doesn’t mean we stop.”

  “But I don’t want to be nice.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not being nice. It’s being God’s instrument.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be His instrument with Kevin.”