Between Sundays

by Karen Kingsbury

  “You’re mine too.”

  Denae was back on the other side, stroking Lee’s arm, his legs. But no amount of love or prayers or willing him to be healed could change what was happening. Lee’s eyes closed, and after a few minutes, his breathing grew slower and then finally stopped. And the bright ray of sunlight that had been their youngest son was snuffed out before he ever really had a chance to shine.

  Derrick sniffed. The tears didn’t embarrass him. If recalling Lee’s death didn’t make him cry, he’d be worried about the condition of his heart. He wiped at his face again. “I miss him.”

  For a long time, Aaron didn’t say anything. He stared at the sky, at the fading pinks and lengthening shadows. When he finally put words to his thoughts, they were strained with confusion. “You still believe? Even after that?”

  “More than ever.” The determination in his voice was the same he’d felt that day in the hospital room. “I never coulda survived losing Lee without Jesus. Woulda died from sadness, man. No way.” He pressed his fist to his chest. “In here, I believe with everything I have that Lee…” His voice broke. He took a few seconds to find control again. “Lee is with Jesus. Happy and whole, helping get things ready till we’re all together again.” He felt drained from telling the story. “What would I have if I didn’t have that?”

  They sat a long time in silence, and then Aaron thanked him. “I had no idea.”

  “Everyone has their struggle.”

  “Yeah.”

  Without another word, Aaron stood and shook Derrick’s hand. Derrick followed him to the stairs and listened as Aaron moved down into the kitchen. He thanked Denae and told the kids goodbye, then let himself out the front door. With someone else, Derrick might’ve been worried about the abrupt exit. But this was Aaron Hill, and the exit could only mean one thing. The evening, the story, their family, had made an impact on the guy. So much that Derrick guessed Aaron didn’t know what to do with his feelings.

  When he was gone, Derrick went to his bedroom, to the photo that hung on the wall by the closet. God used all suffering to build character, right? Wasn’t that what the Bible taught? Because losing Lee changed everything for Derrick.

  After that, his faith could never be something passive, a pleasant outing to a friendly church service. Faith became everything, because heaven held one of his own. He was passionate about making sure his family all wound up together in heaven.

  But here on earth, winning another Super Bowl ring was important too.

  He kissed his thumb and pressed it next to Lee’s precious little face, beaming at him from the photograph. Nights like this, he could still hear his son’s last laugh, see his last smile. “It might happen, baby. This might be the year.”

  Either way, he was certain of one thing. Aaron Hill had listened to every word tonight, and if God was going to change him, the journey might just begin right here.

  In the legacy of a little boy who never really had a chance to live.

  FIFTEEN

  Aaron drove without thinking, without processing even one bit of Derrick’s story. He drove until he came to Baker’s Beach, the stretch of rocky sand just west of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was almost nine o’clock, but a few couples still dotted the sand. Aaron didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  He walked away from the bridge, toward the part of the beach that drew fewer people. Feelings were building in him, weighing on his heart, but he couldn’t think about them, not yet. He pushed himself. Long strides, his hands in his pockets. Only when he was far away from anyone else, did he walk toward a craggy boulder near the surf. He climbed to the top, drew his knees up, and sat facing the water, and finally…finally he stopped.

  He rested his arms on his knees and let his head fall against his fists. And there, for the first time Aaron could ever remember, he felt his eyes tear up. Anger and sorrow and guilt and helplessness welled up inside him. Strange and deep feelings for Derrick and the precious child in the family photo, and for Megan, who had dedicated her life to helping kids without families. And for Cory, who wanted a father so badly he was willing to make up the idea that Aaron might be his dad.

  All of it mixed together in his heart until he could barely breathe for the sadness. He had always respected Derrick Anderson. Yes, when the 49ers brought him on board, Aaron had felt threatened. How could the franchise have room for two star quarterbacks? But from the beginning, Derrick had made it clear. He was there as much to mentor Aaron and Jay Ryder as he was to make any real contribution on the field.

  The story Derrick told him tonight changed everything about how he saw the man. Aaron lifted his face and let the ocean breeze dry his eyes. He didn’t cry; he wasn’t sure he could cry. Even so, his heart ached for the thoughts weighing on him. He stared at the moon’s reflection on the bay and tried to imagine what that night in the hospital room must’ve been like. He’d never been a father, never cared for anyone as much as he cared about himself and his career. No one except Amy Briggs.

  When Derrick told that story, Aaron felt like he was there, like it was his own son Derrick was talking about. The hurt somehow transferred deep into his heart, to a loss he’d never registered before tonight. The loss of a different child that maybe, just maybe, was his own. The one Amy had told him about his sophomore year at UCLA.

  By then Bill Bond had already been saying how Amy was seeing other guys on the side, and how she was only sticking around for the money. When Bill heard about Amy’s claim to be pregnant, he scoffed at the idea. “She’s playing you, Hill. You’re a star, and you’re letting a girl play you. Come on, now.”

  Aaron even wondered if maybe his agent had talked to Amy, discouraged her from fighting for their relationship. Aaron had asked him, but Bill only dismissed his question. “You take care of the football,” he would say whenever the subject came up, “and I’ll take care of the riffraff. And there will always be riffraff.” At the time, Bill’s comments were comforting. Aaron couldn’t trust Amy, but he could always count on his agent.

  Every day, every year since then, he’d told himself the same thing. He couldn’t have been the father. Amy was seeing other guys and maybe she wasn’t even pregnant. He never saw proof, never saw her with a bulging middle. And he certainly never heard anything about the child.

  A boat passed by, and from somewhere out on the water he could hear laughter. He waited until it faded, until only the lapping of the water against the shore remained. The smell of seawater filled his senses, and he hung his head again.

  What if he was wrong? Aaron gritted his teeth. What if Amy had really been pregnant? What if she’d had a child, Aaron’s child, and he’d spent all these years not knowing it?

  How could he have turned her away, let her fall out of his life without even a hint at closure?

  What was he thinking back then? He was a kid, a boy whose dream was unfolding faster than night traffic on the Ventura Freeway. Strangers waited for him every time he left a class or headed out to his car in the UCLA parking lot. Bill Bond was the one who stuck, the one who seemed like the friend and father he’d never had.

  Bill thought Amy was bad for his career, so that settled it. Aaron gave her some lame words and a lot of cold shoulder, and after a blur of seasons, he signed a pro contract. By then, Amy was so far gone from his life, it was like she never existed at all.

  But she had existed, and he’d wronged her.

  Hearing Derrick’s story tonight stirred his memory and his conscience and brought to light wrongs that had been eating at him since the last time he talked to Amy. Even if he hadn’t acknowledged it until now.

  He opened his eyes and Megan Gunn’s face filled his heart. She was crazy for that little boy of hers, even if she was only his foster mother. In that way, she was the opposite of everything about him. When he’d heard about a fatherless child, when Amy had come to him with news of her pregnancy, he’d taken a quick door and disappeared from her life. When Megan heard about a child without a father, she stepped up and
gave her whole life, everything she had. Her freedom and reputation, her dating life, her time and finances. All of it.

  His face was dry, but the ache in his heart stayed. What sort of person was he, to let all these years pass without even calling Amy? If she really was seeing guys behind his back—however Bill Bond knew that—then no, they wouldn’t have worked out. But he could’ve at least had a final conversation with her. He could’ve asked why he hadn’t been enough for her.

  Then, as if the events of the evening had crystallized his memories of Amy, he realized for the first time that something didn’t ring true: Amy hadn’t dated a single guy all of high school until the two of them went to his prom. Why would she have suddenly done any differently? He should’ve pressed his agent harder about his evidence, his proof that Amy was cheating.

  A crazy thought hit him, and his gut tightened in a sick feeling. What if Bill had made up the whole story about Amy? He might’ve done it in a twisted attempt to protect Aaron, right? It was possible. Even now, nearly a decade later, the breakup didn’t make sense.

  He slid down off the boulder and walked to the water’s edge. Amy was probably married with three kids and a wonderful life. Whatever had happened back when he was a sophomore in college, she was certainly over it by now. Over him.

  He couldn’t do anything about the past, but he could try to figure out his future. He needed to talk to Bill, get more details about whatever he’d found out about Amy. Bill didn’t like Amy, and now he didn’t like Megan. Maybe Aaron had spent enough time listening to his agent and not his heart.

  He turned and began walking back to his car, his Hummer. Nothing felt right, not the way he carried himself or the way he looked at tomorrow. Something needed to change, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in Derrick’s phone number. His new friend answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, man, you forget your doggie bag?” It was the Derrick he was more familiar with, the one with a ready one-liner.

  Aaron didn’t feel like smiling. He kept walking. “You doing that pizza party thing for the youth center again this week?”

  “Yep.” The teasing dropped from Derrick’s tone.

  “Can I go?” He was breathless, but not from the walk. “I’m serious, I can’t explain it. Being with those kids…it made me feel good.”

  “I don’t know, Hill. No one at the center wants a media circus.”

  “No press. I didn’t bring any last time. I won’t even tell my agent.”

  Derrick was quiet for a beat. “Okay. The kids would like it.”

  “Good.” A hint of relief sparked in his soul. “Thanks, man.”

  The drive home took longer than usual, Aaron’s mind running through the details of everything he’d seen and felt that night. He needed to be stronger, needed to stand up to his agent a little more often. He couldn’t go back and make things up to Amy. But he could spend next Friday night at the Mission Youth Center, working alongside a woman unlike any he’d ever met. And maybe this time he wouldn’t try so hard to hit on her. It might be enough just to watch her, study her.

  Maybe in the process, some of her strength would rub off on him.

  SIXTEEN

  Megan wasn’t sure what to make of seeing Aaron Hill enter the youth center next to Derrick and Jay Ryder that Thursday night. But here he was, and something seemed different about him. Every time she stole a glance in his direction, he was locked in sincere conversation with a child, not just giving out an autograph and a practiced smile, but actually caring about them. At least it looked that way.

  Megan grabbed a dishrag from a bucket of hot soapy water. She wrung it out and worked it over the food table. It was six-thirty and most of the kids had already eaten since the party started at five tonight. Megan lifted her eyes to the front of the room. It was Cory’s turn to talk to Aaron.

  Megan straightened, because this was her boy. He could catch her watching and that wouldn’t be a problem. Without looking, she dropped the rag on the table and took a few steps forward. Cory was standing directly in front of Aaron, and Aaron had his hands on Cory’s shoulders. Whatever the quarterback was saying, the atmosphere looked happy and upbeat. Which left only one explanation. The guy still hadn’t read Cory’s letter.

  Megan sighed and returned to her cleaning. What would it take, five minutes? Could Aaron really care so little about the boy that he wouldn’t give even that much time to read the letter of a young fan? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and took her anger out on the messy table. She was finishing the job when she heard Cory run up behind her.

  “Megan, quick…” He was breathless and excited.

  She set the rag back in the bucket and turned to him. He needed to get home and work on his times tables. “Ready to go?”

  “No.” He came to a sudden stop and his expression fell. “Aaron wants to go to the park.” Cory pointed toward the open gym door. “It’s still light.”

  Megan hesitated. She didn’t want Cory spending time with a guy who couldn’t be bothered to read a kid’s letter, but maybe the park was a good idea. That way she could pull Aaron aside and tell him what she thought of him. Megan nodded slowly. “Yes.” She brushed her hands on her jeans and smiled at the boy. “Let’s go to the park.”

  The line of kids was much shorter today, so Aaron had no trouble leaving early. He said a few words to Derrick and Jay, and then he looked at her and smiled. It wasn’t the come-on smile he’d flashed at her the first time they met. Now there was depth and something else in his look. A bittersweet sadness. Whatever it was, Megan’s heart reacted to it, and she chided herself. The next hour had to be about Cory, not about some misguided infatuation the guy had for her.

  They met up at the door and he kept his eyes on her. “Thanks for doing this.” He glanced at Cory. “I know it’s a school night.”

  “That’s okay.” Cory placed himself between them. “I only have a little homework.”

  “You have your sevens.” Megan gave him a teasing frown. “Let’s not forget that.”

  “Right. My sevens.” Cory managed to seem subdued for a moment before bursting into a big grin again. “Still, the sevens will always be there. Right, Megan?”

  Despite the seriousness of what lay ahead—at least from her perspective—Cory’s comment made her laugh. She put her hand on his shoulder as they walked. “You have a point.”

  They were passing the youth center parking lot when Aaron motioned to his Hummer. “Just a minute.” He jogged over, opened the door, and snagged a football from the front seat. He smiled at Cory as he shut the door. “Wanna play catch?”

  “Wow! Really?” Cory ran to him and held out his hands. Aaron tossed him the ball, and the two caught up with Megan again and headed up the street. Again Megan was baffled. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t figure Aaron out. If he’d read the letter, then why was he taking them to the park? Why offer to play catch with the boy? If he hadn’t read the letter, then his actions were all a well-put-together show, intended to impress her that he was someone he wasn’t.

  Megan redirected her thoughts. The sky was blue, the day warmer than usual. “Indian summer,” the customers at Bob’s Diner had called it earlier today. It was still warm enough that none of them needed a jacket. Cory kept the conversation going as they made the five-minute walk. “Derrick’s pretty good.” Cory squinted up at Aaron. He had the football tucked beneath his right arm.

  “Derrick’s very good.” Aaron’s tone held a level of respect that hadn’t been there before. “He’s teaching me a lot.”

  Megan listened, interested. The papers had hinted that Aaron had been frustrated when Derrick was acquired earlier this year. She let her eyes meet Aaron’s. “Derrick could help the team this year.”

  “He could.” No defensiveness rang in his tone. “No question. I’m glad we have him.”

  They reached the park and walked until they came to a large patch of grass. Aaron took the ball from Cory. “Okay…�
� He drew his arm back, ready to throw. “Go long!”

  Cory ran as fast and hard as he could, his eyes never leaving Aaron. “Ready!”

  Aaron winged a perfect spiral straight into Cory’s hands. “Nice catch.” He jogged a little closer and held out his hands. Cory threw the ball back and Aaron chuckled. “You’re pretty good, Cory.”

  “Thanks.”

  Megan felt guarded and jaded, and she wondered at her sanity for allowing this trip. Still, Cory would remember it as long as he lived, the chance to play catch with Aaron Hill in a city park. She moved to a nearby bench and sat down, mesmerized by the picture they made. Again, she noticed a resemblance between them. The same sandy blond hair, the same cheeks.

  Ridiculous, isn’t it, God…why am I thinking that way? Cory isn’t Aaron’s son, so why sit here and get caught up in the fantasy? Just because they look so natural together? That’s not a good reason, and I know it. So give me a clear mind, God. Please…

  She filled her lungs and kept her focus. This wasn’t about Cory, not a bit.

  When ten minutes had passed, a boy from Cory’s soccer team called to him from across the small park. The boy was with his dad and brothers, and he wanted Cory to join him on the climbing structure. The boys didn’t seem to recognize Aaron through the long shadows and trees that marked the distance between them, and when Cory hesitated, Aaron tucked the ball under his arm. “Go ahead. I want to talk to Megan for a minute anyway.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. What could he want to talk to her about? Cory headed off to play with the kids, and Aaron ambled over to her. The bench wasn’t long, and now she slid toward the side, giving him plenty of room. He sat down and caught his breath, his eyes still on Cory. “I like that kid.”