by Sammi Carter
While I tried not to look as if I’d broken half a dozen laws getting there, Max concentrated on wagging the little stump of tail he has left. Caleb opened the door and beamed up at me as if I were the Easter Bunny. “She’s here!” he shouted, and shoved open the screen door before turning away.
I found Wyatt, Elizabeth, and Kerry waiting in the living room. Elizabeth looked mildly bored, Wyatt looked mildly irritated, and Kerry looked as if he’d gladly tear something apart with his teeth.
He’s a big guy, probably six one or two. Around thirty or so, clean-shaven, and in terrific shape. He sat on Wyatt’s sofa, his back razor-straight.
Max made a beeline toward the boys and settled himself on the floor between them. I sat next to Elizabeth on the love seat. “Sorry I’m late. I lost track of time.”
Kerry shot a look across the room, locking eyes with Wyatt as if to confirm something they’d been discussing before I arrived. When Wyatt didn’t react, Kerry looked away and flicked a piece of lint from the starched knee of his khakis. “You know we’re here to talk about the possibility of you stepping in as assistant coach of the boys’ basketball team.” His voice was tight and filled with disapproval, and that annoyed me.
For the boys’ sake, I told myself to keep a civil expression on my face. “Yes, I know. I’m thrilled that they want me to be a part of the team.”
Head bent, Kerry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and linking his hands together. He looked so solemn, he might have been finalizing negotiations for world peace instead of interviewing someone to sit on a bench in the recreation center a few nights a week.
“I’m sure you are,” he said with a smile, but it looked as if the effort hurt him. “I’m also sure you understand why I’m a little concerned about this idea.”
The perverse side of my nature rose its ugly head. I was there to talk the boys into changing their minds, but one look at Kerry Hendrix’s smug face made me change my mind. Just knowing that he didn’t want me as his assistant coach made me want the job with a passion.
I slid a glance at the boys to see if they were paying attention. They didn’t seem to be, but kids can be tricky. I kept my tone even and my own smile pleasant as I said, “No, I’m not sure I do understand. What concerns do you have?”
Once again, Kerry glanced at Wyatt, but my brother had the good sense to keep his head down. “Experience, for one thing,” Kerry said when he realized Wyatt wouldn’t be helping him. “How much do you know about basketball?”
“I know enough. I played on one of the county teams when I was younger, and what I don’t know I can learn. What’s important here is that the boys want me to help coach the team.”
“She has a point,” Elizabeth said helpfully.
Wyatt mumbled something unintelligible, and Caleb looked up from Max. Caleb studied the four of us for a long moment, a kid trying to figure out why he felt tension coming from the adults in his life.
“We’re talking about just two boys out of ten,” Kerry said, lowering his voice a decibel or two. “I’m not sure it’s fair to put the whole team at risk just because two of them want to bring their aunt on board.”
“At risk of what?” Elizabeth asked.
Kerry looked at her as if she were slow-witted. “Of having a losing season.”
If it hadn’t been for Brody and Caleb, I would have told him what he could do with his team and walked out the door. “Why do you think they’ll be at risk?” I asked. “Is it because I don’t have enough experience, or because I’m a woman?”
To my surprise, a flush crept into Kerry’s cheeks, but that was nothing compared to the fire in his eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth. All I’m saying is that I want the best assistant coach I can get for the team, and don’t try to make it sound like there’s something wrong with that.”
“Maybe I misunderstood,” I said, “but I thought the team was in danger of folding completely unless you found an assistant coach soon. I also thought that the concept of team sports for kids this age was more about cooperation and spirit than keeping track of who wins and loses.” Not that I completely approved of that idea. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing wrong with teaching kids how to compete and remain friends. But for the sake of winning the argument, I’d play along.
Kerry’s eyes narrowed, and the corners of his thin mouth edged down, but he didn’t say a word.
Wyatt leaned into the conversation for the first time. “Do you have someone else lined up for the job?”
“No,” Kerry admitted after a long silence. “I don’t.”
“Then what’s your problem?” I demanded. “You’re up against the wire. You have someone willing to step in and make sure the team can play this year, and you’re not sure I’m good enough. Even if I were a lump on a log, wouldn’t that be better than having nobody at all?”
“She has you there,” Wyatt said, moving the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You need somebody by tomorrow, don’t you?”
“By tomorrow, yes.” Kerry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa cushion and made an effort not to act like a complete slimeball. “Listen, Abby, I have no problem keeping your name on file, but if someone else with better qualifications steps forward before the deadline, I’ll have no choice but to sign them on.”
My smile turned brittle. I glanced at the boys again to remind myself why I was putting up with this guy at all. “Naturally.”
Kerry stood and assumed a lock-kneed, clenched-butt stance as smug as the expression on his face. “If you do end up with the position, there will be some ground rules. Non-negotiable ground rules.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.” Not with him leading the team.
“You do things my way.”
What a shock. “Understood.”
“Fine.” As if he and Wyatt had struck the deal, Kerry pumped my brother’s hand, grabbed the jacket he’d tossed over the back of the sofa, and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, then disappeared out the door, leaving me to wonder whether I’d won that round or been soundly defeated.
Chapter 8
There’s nothing quite like the smell of sweaty little boys. That’s not really something I wanted to know, but knowledge is one of the perks that comes with being assistant coach on a Youth League basketball team.
On Saturday afternoon, three days after my meeting with Coach Hendrix, I sat on the coach’s bench inside the city recreation center and watched Brody, Caleb, and eight other little boys run up and down the court, stop, aim, miss, and start all over again. The soles of their shoes squeaked on the heavily varnished floor, and their excited voices echoed in the cavernous space.
Coach Hendrix, annoyed at having to accept me as his second-in-command, had planted me on the bench twenty minutes earlier with strict instructions to make sure I had a clean towel and sports drink ready every time one of the boys came off the court. Otherwise, I guess I was free to file my nails.
For all the attention he paid to me, I might as well have been at Divinity, pulling my share of the weight on a busy weekend. So far, there had been no response to my want ad. I’d called Dana and Danielle to help Karen while I was away, and Elizabeth had reluctantly agreed to let them help out this time. But I still felt guilty for leaving Karen with the bulk of the work, especially since I had almost nothing to do at the gym.
For a while I watched people stride up and down the hallway as they traveled between the locker room and other parts of the recreation center. My parents had given me a gift certificate last Christmas for twenty sessions on the exercise equipment, but I hadn’t used it yet. I hadn’t yet decided if they were being helpful or insulting. They’d moved to Denver about the time I came back to Paradise, so they weren’t around to see that I’d let the gift languish. Now that I was here, I was a little surprised at the people who came to the center after working all day, and it occurred to me that maybe I should consider using that gift after all.
Marshal
l Ames had apparently ducked out of the restaurant for a while. I saw him mopping his face with a towel as he headed into the locker room. Quentin Ingersol, a real estate agent whose office was just around the block from Divinity, came out of the locker room wearing the same cheesy smile all of Paradise had been seeing in the new advertisements he’d plastered all over town. Nicolette Wilkes wiggled past, and only the fact that she’s a good friend kept me from hating her for looking good in spandex.
After I tired of people watching, I counted rows of bleachers and lights in the ceiling. And when I was finished with that, I had nothing else to do but think.
I wondered if Hendrix objected to me personally, or if he would have objected to anyone in my position. I had a pretty good idea that he was one of those people who liked thinking of himself as king of the universe, which made it easier not to take his obnoxious attitude personally.
Seeing Nicolette and a few other women in the hallway also made me wonder if this team I was helping to coach was all-male because the city had never gotten around to making the league coed, or because Coach Hendrix had cut any female players before they could make it this far. Maybe the current female population of the under thirteen set just wasn’t interested in basketball.
I don’t know how long I’d been daydreaming when Hendrix blew his whistle and shouted at the boys. The tone he used grated on my nerves, but the boys didn’t seem to think anything of it. While Hendrix chewed out his star forward, I chewed my thumbnail (much easier than filing) and argued with myself about just how much to butt heads with Butthead my first day on the job.
My personal threshold for ignorance is low, but all I had to do was look at Brody as he raced from one end of the court to the other, and I remembered that I wasn’t there for myself. I was there for the boys. So unless Butthead stepped over the line, I’d do what he asked and try not to embarrass my nephews.
I even managed to keep that promise for about ten minutes. That’s when the Butthead in question blew another shrill whistle and shouted at the boys to stop what they were doing. All ten stopped running abruptly and turned to face him, faces red, chests heaving from exertion, eyes bright with expectation, as if they thought he held the keys to fame and fortune in the NBA.
“All right,” Hendrix shouted. “Line up at the free throw line—the A team on the north end, B team on the south.” He strode onto the court in the midst of them, his back rigid, his expression haughty. Brody immediately moved toward the north basket, but Caleb hesitated.
He stood in the middle of the court, his spindly legs sticking out the bottom of his red and white uniform shorts and disappearing again inside shoes that looked twice as big as he was. His pale hair lay plastered against his head, and his nostrils flared as he struggled to catch his breath. Something strong and maternal flared inside me, and I had an almost uncontrollable impulse to sweep him off the court and fill him full of electrolytes.
But I was their aunt, not their mother. If Caleb and Brody had wanted someone maternal around, Elizabeth would be sitting in my place. That convinced me all over again to keep my mouth shut. And I would have, if Coach Hendrix hadn’t suddenly focused on Caleb. “What are you doing, Shaw?”
Caleb sucked in a breath and tried to speak. “I—I’m—”
I gripped a towel in both hands, hoping that would keep my backside firmly glued to the bench.
“You’re supposed to be under your team’s basket. What are you doing standing there?”
“I—I can’t—”
“He can’t breathe, you moron.” I tossed the towel onto the bench and walked onto the court. “Can’t you see that these boys all need a five-minute break, or don’t you care?”
Blood rushed to Coach Hendrix’s face, and he peered at me as if I’d crawled out from under a rock. “You’re out of place, Shaw.”
“I don’t think so.” I moved to Caleb and put my arm around his shoulders. Half a heartbeat later, I realized that might embarrass him, and I pulled it away again. “I’m just asking you to give them five minutes, not forever.”
“And I’ll give them five minutes when they need it.” His beady eyes bored into Caleb, who already looked less red. “You okay, kid?”
Caleb nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded again without looking at me. “I’m fine. Sheesh. I’m not a baby.”
Well, terrific. I’d been on the job barely more than an hour, and already I’d stuck my foot in it. Caleb hadn’t wanted or needed rescuing, and I’d embarrassed him thoroughly in front of his friends. “No. Of course you’re not,” I said. “I know that. I wasn’t only worried about you.”
Caleb lifted one shoulder and took his place beside his teammates. “Whatever. I’m okay. You can sit down again.”
Right.
Under the weight of Coach Hendrix’s disapproving glare, Caleb’s resentful one, and Brody’s blank-eyed stare that probably meant he was pretending he didn’t know me, I returned to the bench and asked myself again what I was doing there.
Coach Hendrix blew his whistle, and the boys began another drill. I counted bottles of sports drink, straightened the stack of towels, and made a list of people I wanted to thank for this experience, starting with Karen.
After what felt like hours, practice was finally over, and Coach Butthead traded places with me. While I returned balls to the wheeled carts and gathered stacks of sweaty used towels, Hendrix sat on the bench and leafed idly through a magazine.
By the time Brody and Caleb emerged from the locker room, I’d convinced myself that I’d made a huge mistake. There was no way I could sit on that bench day after day eating whatever Hendrix dished out for me. No way I could bite my tongue when I thought he’d pushed the boys too far. No way I could suffer the indignity I instinctively knew would be present whenever Kerry Hendrix and I were in the same room.
A mens’ pickup team had reserved the court for the time slot directly after ours, and an odd assortment of players were taking warm-up shots as the boys and I walked through the gym to the doors leading to the back parking lot. Practice had lasted so long, the sun had already dropped behind the western mountains by the time we stepped outside.
All the way across the shadowy parking lot, I tried to figure out the best way to break the news of my quitting to my nephews. I unlocked the car doors and slid behind the wheel. Brody claimed shotgun, which left Caleb in the backseat by himself. I put the key into the ignition but waited for both boys to buckle themselves in before I started the car.
They were both depressingly silent. Caleb wouldn’t even look at me, and Brody kept sliding glances in my direction whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. Look on the bright side, I told myself. After what had just happened, maybe they’d be glad to find out I was bailing out.
“Listen, you guys,” I said as I started the car and put it into gear, “I’ve been thinking.”
Caleb’s little head shot up, and his worried eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “You’re not gonna quit, are you?”
“No, you dork, she’s not gonna quit.” Brody’s eyes locked on mine. “Are you?”
What could I say to that? I knew I should say yes, but I couldn’t form the word. I shifted in my seat so I could see Caleb better. “I thought I embarrassed you in there. Why do you want me to stick around?”
He shrugged, just the almost imperceptible lift of one little shoulder, and his gaze drifted to his knees. “You did, kinda, but only because Coach thinks I’m a sissy.”
My heart shattered at the look on his face. “He what?”
“He thinks Caleb’s a sissy,” Brody said slowly, as if he was talking to an old woman.
I shifted my gaze to him. “How do you know that’s what he thinks?”
“Because he says so. He says it all the time.”
“He says Caleb’s a sissy? In front of the other boys?”
Brody nodded, but he seemed unconcerned. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because Coach
Hendrix shouldn’t say things like that, especially not in front of the other kids.” I struggled to keep my voice from cracking with anger. “It’s not right.”
“How else is he going to get Caleb to toughen up? Coach says he’s the worst player on the whole team.”
“Caleb’s almost three years younger than you and some of the other boys. He can’t be expected to play at the same level.”
Brody shrugged and glanced into the backseat at his brother. “I was better than him when I was his age. He’s gotta focus, you know?”
I couldn’t remember when I’d been so angry, but I reminded myself that Brody was just a kid. He was only parroting things he’d heard. If I was going to get angry with anyone, it would be the jerk whose truck was parked three rows over, and I wasn’t going to get angry with him tonight. The boys had already suffered enough because of adults who couldn’t shut up around them.
Pasting on a smile that I hoped would encourage poor Caleb, I said, “Look, kiddo, you’re doing just fine. And you’re not a sissy. You’re a nine-year-old boy.” I had a few other things to say, too, but just then I saw movement near Coach Hendrix’s truck, and for the third time in the space of as many hours, I completely changed my mind.
Maybe I should say something to him, I told myself. Just a word or two. Nothing that would upset the boys, though. Just a quiet word of warning . . .
I split a glance between my nephews and shut off the car. “Stay here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” Outside, I bent to make eye contact once more. “I mean it. Stay here.”
Brody nodded, Caleb offered up a soft promise, and I was off across the parking lot as quickly as I could walk. “Coach Hendrix? Can I talk to you for a second?”
A head appeared above the truck bed, but it wasn’t high enough off the ground to be Kerry Hendrix’s. Maybe one of the boys had carried the equipment out after practice. “Sorry. I thought you were the coach. Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him for a minute.”
