Between Sundays

by Karen Kingsbury

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into the gritty details, but she had no choice. She couldn’t let him wonder why her feelings had changed. She lifted her chin and breathed in long and slow. As she exhaled, she faced him again. “I read Monday’s paper.”

  Aaron blinked, as if he were still waiting for her to make sense. “Okay…” He laughed, but it sounded tense and desperate. “We lose a couple games and you’re ready to give up on me?”

  She hesitated. “You know what I mean. The piece about you and the Hollywood actress.”

  He couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d suddenly started speaking Japanese. “What piece?”

  Megan’s head began to spin. She gripped the edge of the bench with both hands and stared at him. He had to know about it, right? The truth behind the story, if not the article itself. Her mouth felt dry as she tried to find the words. “The article about you and some actress being interested in each other.” She met his eyes straight on. “Your agent’s working to set up a first meeting.”

  For a few seconds, Aaron looked stunned, too shocked to move or speak. Then his face grew red and anger blazed in his eyes. He stood and turned his back to her, and he walked to the nearest oak tree. He clenched his fist and drew it back like he was going to send it deep into the tree trunk. At the last second, he stopped himself and then released a few controlled hits against his other palm. Every muscle in his body looked tight with rage.

  He walked a few steps to the side, stopped and took two more steps in another direction. He was the picture of pent-up fury and Megan couldn’t understand. Didn’t he think she’d find out, that she’d see it in the Chronicle? Even if he didn’t know about the article, he had to understand that the media would find such a story sensational.

  Aaron finally relaxed his hands and stared up through the trees at the still foggy sky. He groaned, and after a little while, he turned and faced her. Fifteen yards separated them, but from where Megan sat, she could see the turmoil in his eyes. He came to her slowly, and as he reached the bench he narrowed his eyes, looking at her more intently than ever. “I had nothing to do with that article, Megan. You have to believe me.”

  Confusion swelled inside her. She wanted to believe him, but his words didn’t make sense. “You didn’t know about it?”

  “No.” He dropped back to the edge of the bench, still facing her. “My agent must’ve called it in. That’s all I can figure.”

  His agent. Megan shifted her eyes away from him and onto the ground near her feet. The same agent who showed such disdain when she and Cory showed up for the Raiders game during the preseason. If he was Aaron’s agent, he was in constant contact with Aaron, constantly working deals for him. The article meant the guy either had no knowledge of Aaron’s feelings for Megan, or he disapproved of them. A sad weariness came over her as she found his eyes again. “There has to be some truth to it, Aaron.”

  Anger changed his expression. “There is.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. “My agent wants me to date a Hollywood actress. Thinks it’ll be good for my image. Which is something I’ll be talking to him about when I’m done here.” He seemed to catch the fact that he was talking too loud. He lowered his tone, his eyes pleading with her. “But I don’t want that kind of setup. I never authorized him to run the story.”

  Megan studied him, the sincerity in his eyes. Slowly, gradually, she felt herself changing her mind about the incident. So maybe he didn’t want to date an actress, and maybe his agent was responsible for tipping the paper about the story. “Still…” Her voice was softer than before, more vulnerable. “He’s your agent. He knows you better than I do. He must.”

  Aaron’s breathing came faster, in short bursts. He shook his head slowly, clearly warring with his emotions. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and looked hard at her. “He doesn’t know me at all. Not who I am today…who I want to be.”

  His statement rolled around in her heart, but in the end, the answers came from her soul. She reached across the table and put her hand over his. “We’re too different, Aaron. Can’t you see it?” Her heart thudded against her chest, because she hated this, hated breaking away from him. But God had allowed her to see the article for a reason, to warn her. “Look…you’re a nice guy, Aaron. A different guy than I had you figured to be.” Her voice mixed with the sorrow inside her. “I had a great time.” She turned her attention toward the distant swing set, and Cory, pushing himself as high as he could go. “Cory had a great time too.”

  “And that’s bad?” Aaron was deeply upset, his voice told that much. He pulled away from her touch and stood, his back to her again. “It’s just like I thought.”

  Her heartbeat came harder, faster. “What?”

  He put his hands on his hips and stared into the sky. The fog was clearing, and he seemed to find a blue patch. For a long while, he only gave an occasional shake of his head, a few sounds of disbelief. When he finally turned to her, he met her eyes straight on. “It’s my past, right? You can’t see around it, and you know what?” He put one foot up on the bench where he’d been sitting. He leaned over it, his eyes intense. “I can’t see around it either.”

  Aaron had never gone into detail about his past, but he must’ve figured she knew, that his public persona hadn’t escaped her. “It doesn’t matter, Aaron. I don’t want to fight.” She stood and walked around to his side of the table. She sat on the table and set her feet on the bench. “You’ve been a good friend, but…” She felt a rush of tears, and she hesitated until she had control. “It has to end sometime. I’m just saying it might as well be now. Before it gets harder for either of us. For Cory.”

  He let his shoulders fall forward, and he turned and sat next to her on the table. Their knees touched, but only for half a second. Aaron seemed intent on keeping some distance between them. “I knew this could be difficult, Megan.” His anger was gone, and in its place was a sorrow so strong it hurt to look in his eyes. “But I didn’t think it was impossible.”

  She held her hand out to him, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, reluctantly almost, with both hands he took hold of her fingers. She couldn’t fight her tears much longer. “I’m sorry. I think we better go.”

  At first it looked like he might argue again, try to convince her that she was wrong and that he’d never let go of her hands no matter what she thought. But then defeat came over him like a wet blanket, changing his expression and his posture, and in that single change, Megan could sense it was over. Because deep inside, he must’ve realized that she was right.

  “Okay.” He brought her hands to his lips, and he kissed her fingers. “I’ll take you home.”

  The kiss burned through her, because it wasn’t the kiss she had longed for just a week ago. And because it was goodbye, no question.

  She went to get Cory, and like every other time they’d been together, Aaron dropped them off at their apartment. Cory must’ve sensed something was wrong, but he didn’t ask a lot of questions. When it came time to get out of the truck, Aaron parked and gave Cory a hug. But by then she was already waiting for Cory near the front door of the building. No sense dragging out the inevitable.

  She waved a quick goodbye, because she couldn’t speak, and she waited until she hit the stairs inside the building before she let herself break. The whole way up, she navigated with the stair rail, because she couldn’t see for the tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Cory trudged along beside her, his voice somber. “Did something happen?”

  How was she supposed to explain the situation to Cory? Better to let the passing of time tell the story. She sniffed. “I’m just…sad. That’s all.”

  He didn’t ask again, and when she reached the apartment, she set her bag down. “I need a nap, okay, buddy?” Tears were still filling her eyes, but she was holding back on the sobs.

  “Okay.” He kicked his foot a little. “I’ll take a shower.”

  With that, Megan went into her room and locked the door behind her. She didn’t make it to th
e bed before the sobs washed over her. Wave after wave after wave of disappointment and hurt and regret. She’d actually let herself believe that it was possible, that the famous 49ers quarterback might sweep her off her feet and give her the love and the life she never dared dream about. And look where it had gotten her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to feel God’s presence. He was here, just as He promised. Always. Never forsaking her. It took everything she had, but finally as the sobs slowed she could sense Him in the room with her. Her God and Father…her Friend. And good thing. Because with God she could survive this, the pain of saying goodbye to Aaron Hill.

  Even if she was never the same again.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Aaron had Bill on the phone a minute after he pulled away from Megan’s apartment.

  “Hill, my friend…I was just thinking about you and how we need to get dinner at Morton’s one of these—”

  “Shut up, Bill.” Aaron’s tone was sharp and mean. He didn’t care. “Tell me about the article. The one in the Chronicle.”

  Bill uttered an indignant chuckle. “What about it? I got another one coming out in a few weeks. Reporters are crazy for this stuff, man. I mean, we’re talking celebrities, Hill. You’re in the big time now. There with the other young guns fresh off the draft.”

  His rage made it hard for him to focus. “Another article? Bill, I never authorized the first one.”

  “Right, so thank me.” His laugh became more of a huff. “I mean, someone has to look out for your image. Leave it to you, and you’ll drag in some single mother on welfare.”

  “Wait!” Aaron seethed, his blood running hot through his veins. He pulled his truck over and slammed it into park. “You don’t know the first thing about Megan Gunn, so leave her out of this.” He planned to meet his agent in person, but now Aaron was glad a phone line separated them. Otherwise, he might’ve knocked the guy senseless. “Stick to the subject, Bill. The article.” He raised his voice. “You called the Chronicle and told them a bunch of lies?”

  “Listen.” Bill’s voice held some attitude now. “I’ve been doing that since you were a sophomore at UCLA.” Bill allowed a momentary burst of anger. “I don’t have to run everything by you, Hill. You got enough to do on the field. That’s why you hired me, right? To handle your contracts and your connections and your image.” He paused, his disgust obvious. “You’re welcome.”

  Bill went on about how a little appreciation would be nice since he basically spent all day and every night thinking up ways to help Aaron have an edge in the public eye and with other endorsement companies who might be—

  “Bill!” Aaron gritted his teeth. “What’s the next article say?”

  His agent hesitated. “Same thing. You’re interested in one of Hollywood’s young elite. Just enough to keep you on the cutting edge.”

  Aaron clenched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Call the paper, Bill.” His voice was calmer now, almost frighteningly so. “If the article runs this week, I’ll sue you. I swear I will.” He lifted his head and stared straight ahead. But all he could see was Megan, the hurt in her eyes. “Are you listening, Bill?”

  “I am, but you’ve got this whole thing wrong, friend, this is the best—”

  “Stop.” He wanted to ask about Amy, about the tricks Bill must’ve pulled back then. But this wasn’t the time. He needed to focus on the season. That conversation, and his decision about whether Bill would remain his agent after a stunt like this, could wait until he hung up his cleats—hopefully, well after the New Year.

  Aaron sat up straighter and every word dripped in cool venom. “Pull the article, Bill. Or my attorney’ll have an official notice on your desk next week and we’ll be through. Understand?”

  “Listen, call me later.” He sounded frantic. “I’ll pull the article. Come on, Hill, don’t get crazy on me. I’m your friend, the guy who made you what you—”

  Aaron hung up. He’d expected that after he told off Bill he’d feel better about the situation. At least his agent would know not to manipulate the media on his behalf ever again, and that should have brought some sense of satisfaction. But as Aaron pulled back onto the highway, he didn’t feel even a little better. Because, amidst the trash piling up in his heart, was one more piece he didn’t know how to deal with. The fact that somehow, without meaning to, he’d done the one thing he couldn’t forgive himself for doing.

  He’d lost a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl whose soul was as clean as his was full of filth, a girl who would take with her a piece of his heart.

  Even if they never spoke again.

  Cory sat in his room, staring at the things in his special box. Something had gone very wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. He went over the events of the day again and again. The soccer game was a winner, and the lunch was good. But sometime when he was on the swings Megan and Aaron musta had a fight. Sometimes that happened when people had questions, and Megan definitely had questions. Why did Cory still think Aaron was his dad? And Aaron probably had questions too. Why was Cory holding onto something that wasn’t even true? Those sorts of questions.

  So now, he couldn’t sit back and wait on his clue any longer.

  He pulled his backpack to him and took out a piece of paper. Then he wrote Aaron another letter. This one was shorter than the first one. He folded it, and then he tucked the photo of his mom and Aaron inside. He would have to get an envelope later, because they were in the kitchen, and he was supposed to be taking a shower.

  No matter what happened, even if Megan was mad at him, the next time he saw Aaron he would give him the letter and the picture. Then maybe whatever was wrong between Megan and Aaron would clear up, because that’s what happened when people had proof. Cory smiled, even though he didn’t feel like it. ’Cause when Aaron looked at that picture, that would be that.

  And there wouldn’t be any questions at all.

  The season went from bad to worse. Derrick had no choice but to stand by and watch as the team won just eight games over the next thirteen weeks. He and Denae prayed about the team and the season, the pressure on Coach Cameron, and the struggles in Aaron Hill’s head. In the end, they had to agree with the headlines in the Chronicle. The 49ers wild card berth in the playoffs was nothing short of a miracle. Even more, they had to admit, along with everyone in the sports world, that a team with a 9–7 record had the same chance as snow in Phoenix.

  Which was where the Super Bowl was being held.

  According to the announcers on ESPN, San Francisco would be knocked out in the first round. Derrick figured most of his teammates felt the same way, including Aaron Hill.

  But no matter what Derrick tried, Aaron wouldn’t say more than a few words. The demons that haunted him earlier in the season had apparently gotten meaner, because without question it was Aaron’s worst regular season performance ever. He threw more interceptions than touchdowns and battled speculation from the press after every game. Internally, there was talk of replacing him with Derrick or Jay, but now that they’d made the playoffs, the front office didn’t want to rock the boat. Replacing Aaron would be a major news story. It would take the focus off the playoffs and place it squarely on the conflicts San Francisco was facing.

  With each passing week, Derrick worked harder to control his anger at his teammate. This was Derrick’s last season. His last chance. Aaron knew it and still he couldn’t get his head in the action.

  The wild card game took place on a cold, cloudy afternoon at Soldier Field against the defending NFC champion Bears. During warm-ups, heaters were set up along the sidelines and a temperature gauge showed below freezing conditions. Snow was in the forecast. Derrick tried not to feel the frustration from the season as the team huddled together in the locker room around Coach Cameron.

  “You guys know as well as I do…only God could have brought us here. Not once all year did we play to our potential.” He managed to sound intense and positive, something even he had struggled with
during recent chalk talks. “But now that we’re here, I don’t care what the media says.” His voice built with the sort of passion that simmered deep inside Derrick, even after all the ways the 49ers had struggled. Coach looked around the room, singling guys out, staring them down. “Now that we’re here, we have as much a chance as anyone else. Three wins.” He held up three fingers, his gaze intense. “Three wins and we’re there, suiting up in Phoenix for the big game.”

  Coach didn’t mention the unlikelihood that they’d win those three games. ESPN had been spouting the statistics all week. Since the wild card system began in 1970, only eight wild card teams had advanced to the Super Bowl. Of those, only four had won the title. Coach seemed to read his thoughts. “I don’t care what the statistics say.” He pointed at Aaron Hill and then two of the team’s top receivers, and their leading running back. “This team has what it takes.” He paused. “Now go out and win that ball game.”

  By kickoff, a ten mile-an-hour wind had started up, sending bitter cold along the sidelines. The 49ers were first on offense, but Aaron led a stuttering drive that stalled around the fifty. A punt put the Bears back deep into their own territory, and on San Francisco’s next possession, Aaron chipped away a few yards at a time before he handed off for the first score.

  Derrick paced the sidelines, trying to stay warm. Thank you, God…come on, help us out…

  But the victory on the field was short-lived, and by halftime Chicago had a ten-point lead. Aaron was one of the first players into the locker room, and Derrick caught up with him next to his locker. He slammed his palm against the metal door and glared at his teammate. “Talk to me, man! What’s happening out there?”

  Aaron braced himself against his locker and hung his head. “Nothing’s clicking.”

  “Yeah, starting with you.” He leaned closer and brought his voice down to a low hiss. “You were supposed to talk to God about the garbage, remember?”