by Robyn Carr
“Aren’t you a little intrigued with the biology?”
He shook his head. “I have it figured out. The important thing is that Spencer has it figured out, too. Our engagement had been broken off for over six months and even though I blew into town sometimes, she was moving on. I knew that even if I didn’t take her seriously enough. She’d been dating—she’d met someone she really liked a lot. And if you knew the Bridget I knew… She was extremely straightforward and honest, almost to a fault. Had she known, she would have told us both.”
“But have you wondered about—”
“I was tested, Sarah….”
“No, I mean, others? Have you wondered if this is the only time, the only one?”
He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, looking up at the sky. “The truth is, I did a memory check. It’s possible there was a miracle before I met Bridget, and I say miracle because I was always careful. Responsible. Not because I’m some angel, but because I wasn’t looking to get tied down. And I know this is probably hard to believe, but I never liked one-night stands. Seemed like I either had no woman in my life or I specialized in brief engagements. That all came to an end after Patti. I was a monk after that one.”
“Oh?” she said, peering at him.
“It didn’t feel good, Sarah. I can’t blame anyone but myself, but it wasn’t… Hmm, how do I put this? An optimal experience?”
“You get over that?”
He reached over and gave her back a gentle rub. “Oh, yeah. I think it’s highly improbable there were any other unknown children from my past. You know what I think about a lot more? That I might’ve never known about him. If Bridget had lived a long and happy life, they might not have known. Or even under the circumstances, they could have decided not to tell him. Or me. Most families are notorious secret keepers if not outright liars. Everyone in my family hides Aunt Mercedes’s tippling and we don’t talk about Grandpa’s earlier years—the ones where he had this other family, the one he left to make our family.”
She laughed. “Are those some of your family secrets?”
“They’re not secrets, they’re just things we don’t talk about in front of Aunt Mercedes or Grandma and Grandpa. And I’m sure there are lots more—I have three sisters. My mom and the girls—they love that stuff. They trade in secrets. Dad and I are kind of…” He shrugged as if to say Who cares?
“He’s cute…Austin. What a happy kid. I mean, after all he’s been through lately, he sure knows how to have a good time.”
“You have to remember, he’s known about me for months—Bridget and Spencer told him long before they told me. And that other awful thing—losing his mother. He’d been losing her for a long time. On some level it might have been a relief for him to be a kid again, not worried and sad every day.”
“He reminded me of Landon at that age.”
“Really?”
“It was probably the hardest time of my life and yet the most fulfilling. He was only five when we lost our parents. I wrestled him away from mean old Aunt Frances when he was six and I struggled adapting to the life of a single mother who was also a Coast Guard pilot. It was so hard to keep up with everything—so hard to take care of him, be a parent, get to the school and sport events, find the right people to keep him overnight or after school. But he was the light of my life—so funny and smart and…and…he just loved me so much, even when I was inadequate. Oh, and I so often felt inadequate!”
Cooper laughed softly, stroking her back. “I bet you were not even close to being inadequate. Look at him now. He’s amazing. Austin followed him around like a puppy all weekend.”
“They were kind of cute together.”
“A few months ago you told me that you had this dream of having a kid of your own….”
“A silly thing,” she said with a shrug. “Let’s face it, Landon is as much my own as any baby could be. Don’t worry about that. That’s never going to happen….”
“It isn’t?” he asked. “You’ve given up on that?”
“I’m thirty-three with twelve years toward retirement responsible for a kid who’s going to be a senior in high school and then looking at colleges. I think the die’s been cast.”
“You never know. The right man could show up and then everything looks different….”
She laughed. “Hah. I’ve been taking care of myself and Landon for a long time now. It’s a habit and a personal priority—I support myself. I’ll always support myself.”
“Yes, you do,” he said with a smile. “I have an idea. Let’s sneak upstairs while Landon’s at the prom and see if…ahem…the right man shows up and makes things a little different.”
“You lobbying for another family, Mr. Cooper?” she asked. “You still have two customers.”
“I’ll kick them out,” he said, leaning toward her.
She let him have a chaste kiss, but she pushed him away. “When you’re closed for the night, I’ll sneak upstairs with you for a little while. But don’t get the idea you’re going to change my life.”
He grinned at her. “You know the problem with you, Commander Dupre? You just don’t keep an open mind. I could take you to bed and change everything. You could discover you just can’t live without me.”
She ran a finger down his scruffy cheek. “And the problem with you, Mr. Cooper—you think you can solve everything with good sex.”
His grin broadened. “It is good, isn’t it, Sarah.” It was not a question. “Well, one thing at a time.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the couple down at the end of the deck. “Should I tell them it’s time for them to go?”
She lifted her glass and said, “Just get me another glass of wine and leave those nice people alone.”
Fourteen
In a place like Thunder Point there were several key locations to run into friends and acquaintances—Cooper’s beach bar, being one. In the time he had been here, Cooper had met a lot of people. The beach in general found people walking, jogging, fishing off Cooper’s dock, kayaking, just sitting on the sand or a handy rock, enjoying the view. The diner in town was a convenient gathering place, and so was the main drag through town.
But today was the first time he’d ever been called and asked to meet someone. Mac McCain rang him up and said, “You free to come over to Cliffhanger’s for a beer? There’s something to talk about.”
“Sure,” Cooper said. “As long as I can get back here before it gets busy this evening. Anything in particular I should prepare myself for?”
“Nah. Just bring your laid-back self.”
While Cooper was crossing the beach on his Rhino, maneuvering around the big rocks that dotted the landscape, he pondered that statement. Laid-back. Huh. That was the funny thing—he actually had not seen himself that way. At least not until he’d taken up residence in Thunder Point, which was, in so many ways, just a simple, easy place. There was no shortage of challenges. In fact, his closest friends were having the greatest challenges at the moment. Mac’s ex-wife had been lurking, making him wonder what she was up to and Gina was worried about her. And Sarah…ah, Sarah! She’d been worried about some work issue she had yet to share, but this talk of hers that she’d always support herself had an independent ring to it that made him nervous. And even with all that, Cooper couldn’t help but think that as long as they had this—the sound of the sea, the compact cocoon of a town and the reliability and loyalty of its people—things would work out fine.
Yes, he was now laid-back. Prior to this he’d always been a little high-strung, working things over in his mind, thinking too much or too hard. Worrying about what the future might bring or where it would lead him.
He parked the Rhino at Cliff’s and went into the bar. He saw Mac, the football coach and Cliff sitting at a table in the bar. He walked over.
“Looks like a board meeting,” Cooper said.
All three men stood. Mac put out his hand. Mac was in uniform and had a cup of coffee in front of him while the other two me
n were nursing beers. “Thanks for coming over, Cooper. Coach Rayborough, this is Cooper. He’s the newcomer here. Have you two met?”
“We’ve met in passing,” Cooper said, shaking the man’s hand. He hadn’t really thought of himself as the newcomer, but that was probably accurate. He was no longer someone passing through. He’d settled in, made himself a part of the town. It seemed as if every other place he’d lived before this, he’d always been thinking about where he’d go next. That had definitely changed for him and there was only one caveat—Sarah. “Of course, we’ve seen each other at games and around town,” Cooper added. Then he shook Cliff’s hand. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” the man replied. “A beer’s on the way over. Take a seat.”
“This looks downright ominous,” Cooper said, pulling out a chair. And before they could get down to it, his beer arrived.
“When Cooper showed up in town, he looked like some kind of jet jockey—leather bomber jacket and boots and short hair. Now he’s starting to look like a beachcomber,” Mac said with a laugh.
Cooper looked down at himself—soft scrubbed jeans, sweatshirt, well-worn topsiders on his feet. His hair had got a little long and he needed to take time for a haircut. As far as he was concerned, he was attired in the uniform of the day.
“There’s some news coming our way,” Mac said. “Coach?”
The older man cleared his throat. “It’s been a rough year, but I don’t have to tell you that. You’re here because you lost a good friend—Ben Bailey. And you’re good friends with Landon Dupre. We all know he went through some hard times when he first moved here.
“I expected to teach and coach till I’m seventy-five,” the coach said. “I’ve been here a long time. Been growing up the young men in this town for decades. I’m sixty-five. I think it’s time for me to step down, let a younger man take over, if one can be found.” He shook his head sadly. “I missed so many warning signs—I was coaching a kid who had been a lethal bully for years and I never saw what was happening.”
“As I’ve told the coach, there were a lot of us who regarded Jag Morrison as a spoiled pain in the ass, but never realized he was capable of taking that to the next level,” Mac said, referring to the kid who was now in detention for manslaughter. Mac lifted his coffee cup to his lips.
“You can’t hold yourself accountable for him, Coach,” Cliff said. “No more than I can. I’ve been friends with his dad, Puck, for years and I couldn’t stand the way Jag treated his folks or the folks around town, but I never said anything. I never did anything.”
“What could you have done?” the coach said. “I was in a position to take a stand—he was my player.” He turned his attention to Cooper. “I’ve written a letter of intent to the school board and they’ll receive it tomorrow. I’m resigning as athletic director and head coach effective the end of the school year. I can stay on as a consultant to a new coach—I know the town, I know the boys. But that’s the best I can do. I think the team needs better instincts, younger eyes.”
“You took the team all-conference last year,” Cooper pointed out.
Coach Rayborough shook his head, looking down. “There’s more to it than that,” he said. “I’ve always tried to impress on the kids that there’s more to it than just winning. It’s about making your school and your parents and your town proud, and that goes beyond the field.”
Cooper took a drink from his beer. Then he asked, “Have you thought this through? Maybe you’re just disappointed. You have a right to be—you were as let down as anyone in learning that your team captain was felonious. But the boys—they held it together through some pretty rugged stuff.”
“I went to his sentencing hearing today,” the coach said solemnly. “I watched a boy not yet eighteen sentenced to prison and he still smirked and laughed as he was being led away. There’s evil there. And I never saw it.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Cooper asked.
“Dupre, for one,” Coach said. “The kids in this town need good coaching, good role models. Most of ’em come from simple families—fishermen, small business owners, folks with jobs out of town, public servants. These aren’t rich folks. Their kids need scholarships if they can get ’em. They all work, with few exceptions. They get through high school struggling for the best grades, hold part-time jobs and if they’re athletic or musical, they put a lot of time and heart into developing those skills to help them land scholarships. We’ve been real lucky—we’ve turned out some damn fine athletes. There have only been a couple of pros out of Thunder Point, but there have been a lot of college degrees.”
“Cooper,” Mac said. “How’s your game?”
His eyes widened and he snapped to attention. “My game?” He laughed. “First of all, I have a year and a few credits of college and that’s it. I could teach just about anyone how to fly a helicopter, but not much else. Second, I played sandlot football—I could catch a ball if someone walked across the parking lot and handed it to me. Is that why you wanted me to come over? Hoping I could step up? Because, man, I love the game but…but I love the game enough to stay the hell out of the coaching business.”
“Actually, I wanted to call you because of Landon,” Mac said. “He’s got a lot riding on his senior year.”
“No kidding,” Cooper said. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, you’re his mentor,” Mac said. “You’re his closest adult male influence. He probably can talk to you about things he can’t really talk to Sarah about. He might be in the market for some serious moral support. I’m sure he’s counting on the coach being there.”
Cooper shot Coach Rayborough a look. “Listen, I get that you’ve had about enough. I understand, seriously. But if there’s not a decent coach on scene…”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said, but he was shaking his head. “My best just isn’t so great these days. I thought you could bring this up with Sarah. Of course, she and Landon should call me if they want to talk, but there’s plenty of time before practice starts at the end of summer for them to look around. There are other schools and even private schools in the general area and if—”
“Like you said, Coach—Landon had a hard time settling in here, but now he’s established. He has good grades, the boy’s got serious game and there’s the girlfriend, not to mention other friends.” He shook his head. “I don’t see him volunteering to change schools for his senior year. Matter of fact, I had to do that because of my dad’s job and I still remember how tough it was.” He drank some of his beer. “We’ll just have to hope for the best. You probably know every coach and teacher in the county and beyond. You have any ideas?”
“There’s some talent out there, but even though we’re a good school and a tough team, we’re small. Starting pay isn’t impressive. I’ll start doing some serious asking around, but we’re probably going to draw attention from young men without a great deal of experience or an exciting track record. Those folks tend to head for the colleges, then the bigger universities.”
“And why didn’t you leave, Coach?” Cooper asked.
“I like it here,” he said with a shrug. “I like the high school kids—I like taking the raw talent with minimal funding and working it hard, molding it into something bigger than this little seaside town. I like watching those kids come off the field like rockets, all lit up after they’ve taken down one of the big schools—big schools from districts with money to spend. When we do it, it’s harder. But it means more.”
Cooper leaned toward him. “You shouldn’t quit until you find the right person to take over.”
“I won’t let the town or the school down, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m discouraged. I don’t mind telling you—I’m tired. It takes a lot of positive energy to crank up those boys. I’m better off assisting, not trying to lead. Not right now. Now you just talk to Landon and his sister. Tell ’em to call me if they need to, but fill ’em in. Landon—he’s a leader. If he chooses to stay at this s
chool, on this team, he could make a difference. If he chose another team, I’d understand. Anyone would understand.”
“Let me just ask you something,” Cooper said. “Why do you want me to talk to him? Why don’t you just talk to him?”
“Because he’d see in one second that I’m giving up. That isn’t the best message for a kid who’s gonna have a lot on his shoulders if he picks this town. But you can do it, Cooper. Mac says the boy relies on you. And I know he’s got the heart if he has the backing.”
*
Cooper finished his beer. He regretted that he’d given Landon the job—he’d be at the bar, washing dishes, sweeping up, running food to tables, serving up sodas or bottled drinks, smiling like a kid who’d won the lotto. And after the heavy lifting was done for the day, Cooper was going to tell him his coach was quitting and break his heart.
When he got back to his place, Landon was sitting at one of the tables in the bar, apron on, books open. There were a couple of people out on the deck and they’d been served. It had been Cooper who suggested that if things were quiet and Rawley was caught up, he use the time to get some of his homework done. Soon enough they’d hit their busy time when the sun started down over the Pacific and Landon would be on his feet.
Wouldn’t it be nice if he could put off this news about the coach until school was out for the summer. But, if Coach Rayborough was giving a letter to the school board so they could post the job and get busy looking at possible candidates, word would get out. Mac was going to tell Eve that night; Cooper should tell Landon so he’d have time to think.
And then as if the universe conspired, Sarah showed up at about eight o’clock, just as the last of the customers was leaving.
“Maybe we could heat up a couple of pizza slices or something?” she said. And then she immediately said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but I have to talk to you and Landon. Is everyone gone from the deck?”
“There were a couple of people leaning on the deck rail, looking at the bay, but I think they’re about to go. Landon picked up their glasses and dishes. What’s up?”
