Between Sundays

by Karen Kingsbury

  “He likes you.” Megan folded her hands. It took everything she had to keep her tone pleasant. “But I think he’d like you even more if you read his letter.”

  Aaron set the football down between them and leaned over his knees. “I read it.” He was still watching Cory. “That’s why I wanted to come here. So we could talk.”

  Megan gripped the edge of the bench. “You understand, right? Cory thinks you’re his father.”

  Aaron looked at her. “You and I both know that isn’t the case.”

  There it was. Never mind the resemblance, Aaron Hill was not Cory’s father. “Of course.” She hurt for Cory, for the disappointment ahead. “That little boy wants a dad so badly, he somehow created this…this idea. And now he believes it.”

  “I know. I can tell.” Aaron sat up straight and shifted so he could see her better. “I’ve never had this happen.” His words were thoughtful, not rushed or nervous. “I figured you’d know best what should take place from here.”

  Megan tried to understand. She angled her face. “You don’t owe him anything, Mr. Hill.”

  Her use of his last name hit its mark, but this time Aaron didn’t correct her. Instead, his eyes danced with a teasing that made him seem warm and familiar. “I realize that…Ms. Gunn.” He paused. “But I like him. And I sort of like you too.” He grimaced. “Though I’m not sure why, really.”

  The awkwardness of the moment and the emotions battling each other came together in a nervous laugh. She leaned back on the bench and turned her attention to Cory again. “I’m not sure either.”

  “Anyway…Cory has to know the truth.” His teasing faded. “I’ve learned a little about kids lately. Someone told me the other day that I shouldn’t lie—not to kids or adults.”

  “True.” Megan stifled a smile. “So Cory needs to know, and you’re not sure how to tell him?”

  “Or if I should tell him.” He sighed. “Maybe it should come from you.”

  “Maybe.” A pair of birds flew past and landed in a tree a short distance from the bench. The sounds of the boys on the play equipment made the atmosphere feel comfortable and familiar. “Actually, I’ve told him before. Lots of times.”

  A curious look came over Aaron. “So he’s believed this for a while?”

  “Since his mother died.” Megan felt the familiar sorrow. “Two years ago, when Cory was six.”

  “Oh…” Aaron closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. “I wondered…about his background, what led him to the foster care system.”

  “His mother and I were friends. We worked together.”

  “Did she…” He sounded slightly uncertain. “Did she ever mention me?”

  “No. Not once.” Megan gave him a sad smile. “She was single as long as I knew her. Never dated. Spent every spare moment with Cory.” Her attention shifted to the boy, still playing in the distance. “If she thought you were her son’s father, she would’ve said something. I have to believe that.”

  Aaron was quiet, taking in the details of Cory’s life.

  “I want to adopt him, Mr. Hill. I’m all the boy has.” She felt the futility of Cory’s situation, deep in her heart. “The system won’t let me make him my own until they get his father to sign off. He insists you’re his father, so his social worker isn’t ready to label him abandoned.”

  “Wow.” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s that serious, then.”

  “It is.” Her tone lightened some. “That’s why I knew you hadn’t read his letter.”

  “Yeah.” He winced. “I got that pretty much the minute I read it.” He stretched his legs, linked his hands, and placed them behind his head. “How did you wind up with Cory?”

  “His mother came down with pneumonia. She called me, but it was too late.” She shrugged. “Cory had nowhere to go, no family, so he stayed with me during the funeral week, and that’s when I realized it was up to me. I went through the training and became a foster mother.”

  For a few seconds Aaron said nothing. Then he looked at her and his eyes seemed to see deeper, past her heart and into her soul. “You must love him very much.”

  “I do.” She felt the weight of her responsibility, the way she felt it often. “There’re so many kids like Cory. Someone has to do something to help them.”

  They talked some about the system, and how younger children could get by okay. “But when no one steps up and adopts these kids, then what?”

  She told him the statistics, how hard life was on the older teenage foster children and how they were often left to fend for themselves once they became adults. “Derrick told me at the last pizza party he’s talking to Jay Ryder about the two of them starting a foundation. Derrick and Jay might testify before the state legislature and see about getting laws changed.”

  “I’m impressed.” He sounded sincere. “I didn’t know much about foster kids until a few weeks ago.”

  “And now a foster boy thinks you’re his dad.” Her smile was intended to show him empathy. This talk was good for her. He wasn’t the bad guy she’d made him out to be. Deep inside he cared more than she gave him credit for, or at least he was starting to care.

  “Cory deserves a dad.” Aaron picked up the football and rolled it around in his fingers. “Every kid does.”

  They talked a few more minutes, and then Cory came sprinting over. Megan wanted to finish the conversation. “I’ll tell him. It’s okay.”

  “That’d probably be better.”

  Cory reached them, a smile stretched across his face. “Ready?”

  “More catch?” Aaron stood and patted Cory on the back. “You bet.”

  For another fifteen minutes, they tossed the ball. Megan watched, and in the distant part of her heart, the part that still believed in happy endings, a sorrow took root. Because the moment Cory was having was all make- believe. Aaron Hill was a busy guy. Just because Cory had some strange delusion that Aaron was his father didn’t obligate the quarterback to spend time with him. Megan hoped Cory was holding on to every moment of this magical afternoon. Because the odds of it happening again—now that the truth was out on the table—were next to nothing.

  Aaron walked them back to the center and gave them a ride home. Again, he looked like he wanted to come up, maybe share coffee or more conversation. But he didn’t ask. Cory told Aaron goodbye. “Let’s play again sometime, okay?”

  “Definitely.” Aaron reached into the backseat across the console and gave Cory a hug before the boy stepped out onto the curb. Then he turned and faced Megan. “We’re away this week and next.”

  “I know. Cory told me.” Megan’s mouth was dry. Why was she letting him have this effect on her? She wasn’t a football groupie, and she didn’t want to date him or anyone else. So why did he make her heart beat faster every time he looked into her eyes? “And no more pizza parties, right?”

  “Not for now. Derrick said he might put something together mid-season on our bye week, but it’ll be pretty busy.” His eyes lit up. “After the season, though. Derrick and Jay are talking about making a regular event out of stopping by the center.”

  “That’s right.” Megan had heard the director talking about the possibility. Nothing was for sure yet. “Anyway, thanks for reading his letter.” She looked intently at him, trying to figure him out. “I sort of thought we wouldn’t see you again, once you knew what Cory thought about you.”

  “Why?” His smile was easy. “Little boys create fantasy worlds all the time. It’s part of being a kid.” The smile faded. “I don’t want him hurt, that’s all.”

  “I’ll tell him. Maybe not tonight, but before the weekend.”

  Megan wasn’t looking forward to the moment. Cory wouldn’t believe her at first, but if she explained that she and Aaron had talked, then as sad and difficult as the truth would be for a while, the boy would have no choice but to believe it. She took a quick breath and reached for the door handle. “The good news is I can adopt him now. If he tells the social worker he doesn’t know his dad, and since
there’s been no father in the picture all these years, the judge will clear him for adoption.”

  A depth shone in Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t envy you, having to tell him the truth.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be doing a lot of talking to God this week.”

  For a moment, it looked like Aaron might ask about that, about God. But Cory was waiting on the sidewalk, and Megan had to get going. Aaron put both hands on the steering wheel. “Can I call you? After the road games?”

  There was no reason for Megan to say yes. But before she could stop herself, she grinned at him. “I’m not sure why, Mr. Hill.” She could feel her eyes sparkling. “But you can call. I can let you know how Cory took the news.”

  “Okay.” He started to reach out, as if he might take her hand or touch her shoulder. Then he pulled back and smiled. “I enjoyed today, our talk. Learning about Cory and getting to know you better.”

  She smiled before she could stop herself. “Me too.” Then, with her heart racing at triple time, she stepped out on the sidewalk, shut the door, and gave him a final wave.

  On the way up the stairs, Cory tapped on her arm. “Hey…”

  “What?” She stayed a step ahead of him, because if she moved fast enough, maybe she could outrun the strange emotions whirling in her heart, the feelings she was starting to have for Aaron Hill.

  “You looked sorta happy in there, talking to Aaron.” He was teasing her, using the voice kids use when they think two people like each other. “I think he has a crush on you, Megan.”

  “He doesn’t.” Her answer was quick. She reached the third floor and made a straight line for the apartment door. “He’s just trying to be nice.”

  “Hmmm.” Cory had to run every few steps to keep up. “I don’t think so.”

  Once they were inside, Megan directed Cory to get his backpack. “Take your math papers. I’ll be in your room in a minute.”

  He did as he was told. When she was alone, she fell against the door and closed her eyes. Her heart was still racing, still betraying her. She should’ve said something to stop the madness. She could’ve told him that, by the way, she wasn’t interested, or she could’ve asked him not to call. Most of all, she could’ve avoided saying “Me too” when he told her he enjoyed their talk that day. But then that would’ve been going against her own beliefs, and that’s what troubled her most.

  Because lying wasn’t right, no matter what.

  SEVENTEEN

  Aaron didn’t call her after the road games, and he wasn’t sure why. Mostly just that he had a lot to figure out about himself, and someone like Megan Gunn deserved a guy with his act together.

  It was Monday night, first official game of the season, and the 49ers were hosting the Cardinals. Anticipation and energy were at an all-time high, and the entire team felt it. All week, sports announcers and media members had guessed about the game and about the coming season. Indianapolis would be strong again, and so would the Bears and the Patriots. Most talk shows liked San Francisco in tonight’s game, because the team had buffed up its defense with the draft and traded well for a receiving team that would complement Aaron’s abilities. But the team was still picked to place just third in their bracket. Sports media believed Aaron didn’t have what it took to win the big game, and oddsmakers in Vegas had them a twenty-to-one shot to win the Super Bowl. The worst odds since Aaron had joined the team.

  They were on the field, finishing warm-ups, and Aaron surveyed the stands. Cory would’ve loved it here tonight, but Aaron couldn’t bring himself to invite the boy, to lead him or Megan into believing something that he wasn’t sure he could carry through. Aaron wasn’t worthy of a girl like Megan Gunn, so maybe it was best to take a step back. Besides, the boy had to know by now that Aaron wasn’t his father. So a phone call to Megan or an invitation to the game could’ve come across as patronizing or charity. Still, Aaron wished they were there.

  No matter his own shortcomings, he hadn’t stopped thinking about either of them since he dropped them off at her apartment.

  Aaron tried to clear his head, tried to focus on warm-ups, which were nearly finished. He took the snap from the center, danced back a few steps, and fired it at a passing receiver. This time, instead of the neat tight spiral he was known for, the ball soared past his teammate and landed ten yards on the other side of the guy.

  “You with us, Hill?” Derrick was taking snaps a few feet away. “I mean, come on, you never call, never write. We have one dinner and you ditch me.”

  Aaron laughed. “I’m here. It’s just my head.”

  “Yeah, well.” Derrick stared at him, just as one of the coaches blew a whistle. “Game’s starting in five minutes. Might be a good time to reattach it.”

  “Right.” He slapped Derrick’s helmet as they jogged back to the sidelines. “I’ll do that.”

  They lost the coin toss, and Aaron was glad. He needed a few minutes to focus on the game. The hype and commotion was all a distant roar compared with the thoughts in his head. Every spare moment since his talk with Derrick, he’d been more and more aware of the life he’d been living. How many people had he used since he’d come into the league? The more he thought about it, the more the trail of his success as a player seemed paved with a stream of nameless, faceless girls, none of whom had meant anything to him.

  And for the most part, he probably meant nothing to them. At least that’s always what he’d told himself. The girls he hooked up with weren’t the types to get broken hearts. They were the type that marked their night with him as another conquest, another line on their résumé. The sort of girls Bill Bond approved of—as long as none of them was underage—because they came and left in the shadows. Girls that didn’t hurt his image as a bachelor.

  “Keep your play toys in the closet, Hill,” Bill would say, “and everything will work out fine for us.”

  But the more Aaron thought about foster kids and the statistics, how so many became street people, he had to wonder. Some of the women he’d used over the years were probably looking for a way to feel needed. Even for only a night. Did his agent ever think about that?

  Aaron knew the answer, and the weight of his sin, his responsibility to those women, stayed on his shoulders like a lead blanket. Even here on the sidelines. Beneath the weight of it, he struggled to find the carefree, cocksure athlete he’d been before showing up that first night at the youth center.

  Aaron focused on the unfolding game. The 49ers’ defense held the Cardinals to three plays and a punt. Now it was his turn, whether he felt good about himself or not. He jogged over to Coach Cameron and listened for the plan.

  “Hill, what’s eating you?” Coach’s eyes were dark with worry.

  “Nothing.” Aaron let his gaze fall to the ground. “Just some things I’m working through.”

  “Work it through later.” Coach gave him a hard pat on the back. “I mean it, Hill. We need you a hundred percent tonight.”

  “Yes, Coach.” Aaron steeled himself against the crud in his heart, the weight on his shoulders. Coach was right. This was their opening game. The team needed him. He ran out to the huddle and shot a look of intensity at his offense. “All right guys…let’s do this!”

  He sounded convincing, but the drive stalled at the Arizona thirty-yard line. A field goal put them ahead by three, still no matter what he tried, Aaron couldn’t engage his heart in the game. He’d played football since high school, and not once in all that time could he remember a game where he struggled to give his all. Until here, opening night. A game televised to the entire country.

  The team battled Arizona all night, and Aaron threw an uncharacteristic three interceptions. Before the fourth quarter, Coach pulled him aside and threatened to put in Derrick or Jay. The talk was enough to give Aaron the push he needed, and in the final five minutes, he threw two touchdown passes, giving the 49ers a three-point victory. His performance was pathetic by any measure. He threw for just over a hundred yards and his touchdown to interception ratio was his worst
in four years. But it was a win, and Aaron was grateful.

  Media flooded the locker room after the game, but Aaron had nothing to say. What could he tell them? That he felt like a creep? That his self-centered past suddenly felt shallow and empty and the result left him with little desire to even play the game, let alone win it? All of America would think he’d lost his mind.

  He found Coach Cameron and begged off from the post-game interview. “I’m not feeling good.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Coach’s expression went from sarcastic to concerned. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Don’t worry about the press. I’ll handle them. Get home and get some rest. The schedule won’t get any easier.”

  Aaron stared at the ground. “I’m sorry.” His eyes met his coach’s. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Coach held Aaron’s look for a long moment. Then he nodded and headed off to face the press.

  Aaron shuffled toward the showers, dizzy from the strange feelings plaguing him. After a game like tonight, it wasn’t always smart to dodge the press. They expected the key players to show up after the game. His missing the interview would give them reason to speculate that something was wrong, that Aaron Hill was maybe fighting an illness or an injury. Two or three games like the one he’d played tonight and they’d start talking about whether he’d lost his edge, whether he should be replaced.

  He undressed and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good on his shoulders, but it didn’t wash away the heaviness surrounding him. At some point, he needed to talk to his agent, have a sit-down with him, and get to the bottom of the situation with Amy—even if it had been years since her name had come up. Plus Bill had called a couple times in the past week, telling Aaron about a few A-list actresses and one country singer who had expressed interest in him.

  “Say the word and I’ll set it up, Hill.” Bill sounded beyond excited at the prospect. “We could use a connection like that.”

  Aaron had made himself clear both times. “I’m not interested. I can find my own relationships.”