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“He’ll always give her trouble. A week or so ago when Russ had the boys, Kenny caught Brent watching a porn video.”
“How’d he get hold of it?”
Lazarus barked, Gabe threw, and the dog took off again.
“It was called My Little Pussy,” Mike said. “He thought it was about a kitten.”
“God.” Gabe grimaced.
“You got it.”
“Did Kenny see the video, too?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How’d you hear about it?”
“Russ told half the people at the Honky Tonk last Monday. He found Brent’s questions about what he’d seen hilarious.”
“What an idiot.” Gabe shook his head in disgust. “How’d she end up with a guy like him?”
When Mike propped his arms behind his head and put his feet up on a nearby footrest, Gabe almost regretted asking. It looked as if his friend was planning to stay awhile, and having company wasn’t in keeping with Gabe’s plans. He needed to mentally prepare himself for his first practice with the team. After being out of circulation for three years, he’d be dealing with a lot of people. He’d face an onslaught of questions, an avalanche of curiosity, and plenty of rude, blatant stares. Being famous made him an attraction already. Now that he was crippled and famous, he couldn’t go anywhere without conversations falling to a hush and people whispering behind their hands.
But he suspected Mike knew it wouldn’t be an easy day for him and had come over to keep him company—probably so Gabe wouldn’t back out. And as long as they were talking about Hannah, Mike was unlikely to bring up Lucky.
“You don’t remember what happened between her and Russ?” Mike asked.
“I’m not sure I ever knew.” He’d been away at college, too busy making his dream come true to pay much attention to what was happening in Dundee.
“They got married a few months after she graduated from high school. She was pregnant.”
Gabe glanced across the lawn, expecting Lazarus to come charging back to him, and saw him chasing another squirrel. “I can’t see her sleeping with Russ in the first place.”
Mike shrugged. “Who knows how it happened? She couldn’t go away to college like the rest of us. She had to stay and take care of her mother, and Russ lived right next door.”
A few weeds had infiltrated one of the garden boxes Gabe had built up off the ground. He bent forward to take care of the problem. “What was wrong with her mother?”
“Cancer.”
Gabe tossed the weed he’d pulled on top of the pile he was making. He’d heard about her mother; he remembered now. “Where was her father?”
“Died in a plane crash when Hannah was little. I know they got some sort of settlement, but it was just her and her mom until her mother died.”
Gabe smoothed the soil he’d disturbed and stretched to reach around another plant. Hannah must’ve been lonely….
“My mother thinks she was after his family,” Mike added.
Brushing the dirt from his hands, Gabe glanced up in surprise. “I’ve heard of a woman being after a guy’s money, but never his family.”
“When Hannah’s mother got sick, it was Violet Price who helped her deal with the situation. After her mother died, Hannah might’ve been trying to cement those relationships, to hang on to the people she already cared about.”
That sounded reasonable to Gabe—but the years didn’t match up. “Kenny’s only sixteen years old,” he said. “If she got pregnant right out of high school—”
“She miscarried.” Mike gave him a sidelong look. “Any other questions I can answer for you about Hannah Price?”
Gabe scowled. “We’re just talking, Mike. There’s nothing wrong with talking, is there?”
Mike’s lips curved in a broad smile. “Not a thing, buddy. You need someone to fill you in on what you missed all those years you were busy showing off on national television.”
Showing off… Mike had always teased him about his fame.
Gabe smiled in spite of himself as he rolled over to the tool-shed to retrieve his small pruning shears. He’d spotted some dead blooms on his roses. “Considering the gap between Kenny and Brent, she must’ve stayed with Russ a long time.”
Mike didn’t comment. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and tilted his hat to shade his face.
“Mike?”
“What?”
Gabe knew he was stupid to press the issue, but he was probably never going to hear the end of Hannah, anyway. So he risked one more question. “Why didn’t she leave him after the miscarriage?”
“If you’re not interested in Hannah, why do you want to know so much about her?”
“I’m familiarizing myself with the family situation of my starting quarterback. Coaches do that sort of thing.”
Putting his feet down, Mike sat forward and nudged his hat up. “So Kenny’s the attraction?”
“Of course.”
Mike hardly looked convinced, but he shrugged. “Well then, for coaching’s sake, I’ll tell you this. I don’t know why she stayed as long as she did. Especially because Russ was a lousy husband. He went from one job to another, hung out at the Honky Tonk every weekend, went home drunk more times than not, and bought things they couldn’t afford, even when he wasn’t earning any money. My mother’s been a good friend of Violet’s for years and shakes her head whenever Russ’s name is mentioned.”
Gabe lifted his gaze as Mike stood. “Was Hannah supporting the family with her photography way back then?”
“Not in the early years. She worked at the diner, remember?”
“No.” For more than a decade Gabe had been living out-of-state and hadn’t paid attention to anything beyond his career and his immediate circle of family and friends. “So when did she start taking pictures?”
Mike crossed the deck. “Beats me. Must’ve been before the divorce, though, because I heard Russ went after her for spousal maintenance.”
That statement made Gabe prick himself on a thorn. Mumbling a curse, he shook the sting out of his finger. “Tell me he didn’t win. Certainly she’s not supporting him….”
Mike’s teeth flashed in another smile. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“What?”
His friend strode down the ramp and sauntered toward the gate. “Call her,” he said.
“I’m not going to call her!”
“Why not? Take her out to a movie.”
“No way.”
“You might have a good time, Gabe. Would that be so bad?”
“Yes!”
The gate clicked shut, and Gabe threw his pruning shears in the opposite direction. They arced, like a perfectly thrown football, imbedding themselves in the fence with a vibrating thwack that made Lazarus freeze near the trees and prick his ears forward. Having a good time with Hannah would be bad, Gabe thought. Because then he might want to see her again. And he couldn’t let himself get too comfortable. He had a long fight ahead of him. He couldn’t afford to bow beneath the odds and settle for spending the rest of his days in a wheelchair.
“I’m not going to ask her out,” he called. But Mike was long gone, and only the deep bong of the wind chimes and Lazarus’s howl answered back.
CHAPTER THREE
THE DAY HAD TURNED HOT and dry. The heat blasted into Gabe’s truck as he opened the door, lifted his wheelchair to the pavement and swung into it. Already he could feel the attention of those on the football field. Even the cheerleaders practicing stunts in front of the gym stopped to watch as he got out.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine what they were thinking: He’s here…That’s his truck…How does he drive without using his feet? How does he get into his chair? Oh, look at that…
He’d been MVP of the National Football League for two years running. The last thing Gabe ever thought he’d become was a freak show.
Taking the roster from the back seat of his extended cab, he hooked it on the handle of his wheelchair, whistled for Lazarus and started pushing for the gate.
Excited by the promise of a new activity, Lazarus trotted circles around him. Gabe was fairly sure Coach Hill had never brought a dog to practice. He knew Lazarus might raise a few eyebrows, but Gabe didn’t really care. If the school board didn’t like it, they could fire him. He hadn’t asked for this job in the first place.
Coach Owens immediately spotted him and hurried over. They met up just as Gabe rolled onto the track surrounding the field. “Hello, Coach. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.”
Coach…Gabe wondered how long it’d take him to get used to his new title. “Thanks. Good to see you, too.”
Owen’s arthritis had taken more ground, distorting his hands, but his smile revealed no animosity, even when he glanced at Lazarus. Gabe decided Coach Owens was as good-natured and open as he’d always been.
Blaine, of course, was a different story. He stood on the far edge of the field with a whistle in his mouth, his hands propped on his hips in a classic stance of “I’m the boss here.” He glared at Gabe for several long seconds, making Gabe feel even more self-conscious about getting his damn chair down onto the field. But Gabe refused to be intimidated by a man who couldn’t even manage his own temper. Gabe had seen Blaine toss players into lockers, throw a football at the back of a guy’s head, chuck a clipboard across the room. He’d even held Gabe’s head under water once, when Gabe had called an audible instead of running the play Blaine had sent out to him. It didn’t matter that Gabe had read the defense and knew Blaine’s play wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter that the change resulted in a touchdown pass that won the game and secured the team a spot in the play-offs. Everyone knew Blaine hadn’t called what Gabe ran, and Blaine didn’t like being upstaged.
Considering Blaine’s lack of control, it was a miracle he still worked at Dundee High. Anywhere else in America he would have been sacked long ago. But his more violent outbursts had occurred back when teachers had a great deal more latitude. And he’d coached at Dundee High so long he seemed like a permanent fixture. In a town where everyone knew everyone else, firing Blaine felt too much like firing family.
Gabe squinted against the sun to see the boys who had all turned expectantly toward him. Oddly enough, their faces were already streaked with dirt and sweat as if they’d been practicing for some time. “Am I late?” he asked, checking his watch, which indicated he wasn’t.
Owens shifted from foot to foot and clasped his gnarled hands behind his back. “No, not really. It’s just that…well, Coach Blaine wanted to get an early start.”
Gabe surveyed the forty or more athletes staring curiously back at him. “He called all these boys and told them to come to practice early?”
Mopping the perspiration on his brow with the towel that hung around his neck, Owens cleared his throat. “Actually, we have a phone tree. He…um…had me start the phone tree.”
“And no one thought to notify me?”
Owens glanced across the field as if he wanted to ask Blaine what to say now. “I guess you’re not on the list yet.”
“Put me on it,” Gabe said. “Put me right on top, because I’ll be the one to start the phone tree in the future.”
“Sure, okay, Coach. Anything you say.”
Evidently Blaine was already pushing to see what he could get away with. Gabe couldn’t give an inch, or he’d be looking at twice as much resistance later on.
“Would you mind telling Coach Blaine I’d like a word with him, please?”
Gabe could almost read Owens’s mind as his eyes once again darted toward the man in question. No doubt Owens was more than a little hesitant to become a target of Blaine’s temper. If Gabe quit or wound up fired, Blaine would most likely take over as head coach. Then Owens would be in a very difficult position.
“Is there a problem, Coach?” Gabe asked when Owens didn’t move.
“No, ah, no, of course not,” he said. “I’ll get him.”
Along with the entire football team and several parents who were sitting in the stands, Gabe watched Owens jog over to Blaine. They exchanged a few words. Then Blaine made his way slowly across the field, seemingly unconcerned.
“You wanted to see me, Gabe?” he said when they were finally within speaking distance.
Gabe knew Blaine had purposely used his first name to avoid giving him the respect of his new title but said nothing. He waited for Blaine to get a little closer. He had no intention of broadcasting the fact that they were having a problem with each other on the very first day. That would only boost gossip and start folks choosing sides, and Gabe drew enough attention as it was. He preferred to keep a low profile, if only Blaine would let him.
“What is it?” Blaine prompted.
“Well, Melvin, it seems I wasn’t notified of a change in the practice schedule.”
Blaine’s lip curled in a poor approximation of a smile. “I didn’t see any need to make you come in early. I wasn’t sure how flexible you could be with…” His gaze dropped to Gabe’s chair. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t sure of your schedule, and I knew Owens and I could handle it.”
Gabe’s hands tightened on his wheels. Blaine had coached him; he knew how driven Gabe was, knew what being in a chair cost him. Blaine was trying to make him feel like less of a man because of his handicap, and it angered Gabe that his insecurities allowed Blaine to hit the target so perfectly.
The memory of Blaine’s hand on the back of his head, forcing him under water played again in Gabe’s mind. He was only sixteen at the time, and Blaine must’ve been forty. But once panic set in, Gabe had come up swinging and knocked his coach to the ground. He’d been ready to do more, if necessary. He still wondered what might have happened if Coach Hill hadn’t walked into the locker room at that moment.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Gabe said, “Making that change on your own is fine for today. But it had better never happen again. Do I make myself clear?”
Gabe had kept his tone and his expression so pleasant that it took a moment for his words to register. “It’s just practice, Gabe,” Blaine said. “I thought—”
“Next time you won’t need to think. You’ll know better.”
A muscle jumped in Blaine’s jaw. Except for the color of his hair, which had turned gray, he looked exactly like he had the night he’d nearly drowned Gabe in the team’s water cooler.
“Owens and I have been doing this since you were in diapers,” Blaine hissed.
“And now I’m in a wheelchair,” Gabe said calmly. “And that isn’t going to change anything either.”
Blaine said nothing. Neither did Gabe. It was a silent contest of wills. Blaine needed to understand that, wheelchair or no, Gabe was as competitive as ever. He hadn’t asked for this job, but now that he was here, he wasn’t going to let Coach Blaine run him off.
“I’m sure having a dog at practice is against school policy,” Blaine said at last, obviously grappling for whatever ammunition he could use.
Gabe shrugged. “So file a complaint.”
“It’s distracting to the boys,” he persisted.
“They’ll get used to it.”
Blaine’s lips blanched white but he held his tongue.
“Unless you have further questions, I think that about covers it,” Gabe said. “Call the team together. I’d like to talk to them.”
KENNY HAD BEEN looking forward to football since the end of last season. It gave him something to focus on that had nothing to do with his personal life. But today’s practice had been tense. Kenny hadn’t seen Blaine so pissed off since last year, when the varsity front line let the starting quarterback get sacked five times in one game.
“You need a ride, man?” Senior Matt Rodriguez nudged Kenny in the shoulder as he passed, his cleats clicking on the cement.
“No thanks.” Kenny put his gear, which he’d carried out of the locker room with him, on the ground and sat down at the curb by the fence surrounding the field.
“Your mother coming?” Matt asked.
“My dad,” he said, which meant he’d have a wait. His dad was always late.
Matt dug his keys out of his football bag. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah, you too.” Kenny watched enviously as his friend pulled out of the lot in a beat-up red truck. Kenny had his license but no car to drive. Because his mother occasionally had to travel to different shoots, she couldn’t loan him her Volvo, at least not very often. And he knew better than to hope his dad might help him buy a car—even an old junker. Russ Price was lucky to have wheels of his own. What he drove usually ran worse than Matt’s truck.
Tossing a rock across the parking lot, Kenny leaned against the fence and considered the coming weekend. The prospect of spending another few days at his father’s trailer wasn’t particularly appealing. Kenny was still angry about Brent getting hold of that porn video. What kind of father kept that shit in the house where a little boy could reach it?
The sound of a car made him glance up.
“You need a ride, Kenny?” Tiffany Wheeler smiled prettily at him from inside her green bug. The cheerleaders were usually gone when football practice let out. Evidently they’d stayed late.
“No, I’m covered,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You goin’ to the dance tonight?”
Tempted by the promise in her voice, he hesitated. He was almost positive Tiffany liked him, which was quite a compliment since she was a year older and so many of the other boys admired her. But he couldn’t go to the dance. After the lack of remorse Russ had shown over that video incident, Kenny didn’t want to leave his little brother with their father. Kenny wouldn’t put it past Russ to go out drinking and leave Brent home alone. “Not this time.”
“Oh.” Her expression revealed her disappointment. Kenny feared she’d simply set her heart on someone else, but he couldn’t change his mind.
“Okay. Have fun whatever you do,” she said.
He’d be baby-sitting, which didn’t sound like fun at all. He did a lot of it. But he was Brent’s only protection when they weren’t with their mother. If Kenny told Hannah half the stuff that went on at his father’s place, she’d sue Russ for full custody again, and Kenny didn’t want that to happen. The court battles freaked everyone out. Especially Brent, who loved Russ regardless.
Kenny loved their father, too. He just wished Russ could pull his life together and take some pride in himself for a change. “See you around,” he said as Tiffany drove off.
Car doors slammed, engines rumbled and parent after parent came by for those who didn’t drive.
At least half an hour later, Coach Blaine stalked past Kenny, but didn’t say anything. A few minutes after that, Coach Owens mumbled goodbye.
Even Owens seemed worried about the recent changes, Kenny realized, and cursed under his breath. He missed Coach Hill. Everything was cool when Coach Hill was around. Gabe had given them a stern lecture about persistence and determination. He’d talked about all-for-one and one-for-all, personal excellence and self-discipline, and he’d said that only those guys who played with heart would play for him. Then, he’d instituted a few new drills that were guaranteed to make them too sore to move tomorrow. The speech was good, and the drills might prove helpful, but with the coaching staff fighting amongst themselves, Kenny wasn’t sure any amount of motivation or hard work would make enough difference. Coach Hill always said they had to be unified or they wouldn’t win a single game. Football is a team sport, my friends….
“Kenny?”
He scrambled to his feet when he saw Coach Holbrook and his dog coming toward him from the locker room. Kenny wasn’t surprised Gabe was still around—Gabe’s truck was one of the few vehicles remaining in the lot—but Kenny was more than a little self-conscious about facing his new coach alone. The wheelchair made him nervous. The fact that his mother was to blame for the wheelchair made it even worse. “Yes, sir?”
Holbrook studied him for a moment. “You need a ride?”
Kenny glanced at the entrance to the lot, hoping to see Russ’s old Jeep. But the drive was empty and so was the street.
“Um, my dad’s probably on his way.”
Gabe arched his eyebrows. “The ‘probably’ part has me a little worried.”
Kenny tried to pump some conviction into his voice. “I mean, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
“What if he doesn’t come?”
“I’ll walk.” Kenny shrugged as if it was no big deal, but his mother lived more than three miles away, he was already exhausted and it was hotter than hell. Besides, if he showed up at her place, she’d know Russ had forgotten him again and his parents would end up in another huge fight.
Holbrook consulted his watch. “Did you tell him when practice would be over?”
Kenny had actually told Russ it ended half an hour earlier than it did. That strategy sometimes cut down on the waiting. But he wasn’t going to admit that to Gabe. It made his father look pathetic. “Yeah.”
“He’s nearly an hour late.”
“He’s busy, I guess.”
Gabe’s lips formed a grim line. “Come on, I’ll drop you off.”
Kenny didn’t know what to do. He didn’t feel like waiting for his father any longer. But he didn’t want to get into Gabe’s truck. What would they talk about?
Reluctantly, he gathered his stuff and trailed his new coach across the lot. When Gabe started to get out of his wheelchair, Kenny hesitated. Should he offer to help? Should he be the one to load the wheelchair?
Gabe didn’t turn but he must’ve felt Kenny’s hesitancy because he said, “I’ve got it,” sharply enough that Kenny knew offering to assist him would not be a good thing.
Kenny had just rounded the truck and climbed in beside Gabe’s dog when his father finally pulled up next to the passenger side. Brent was in the back seat, without a seat belt.
“There you are,” Russ called out from the Jeep. “What, did practice let out early today?”
His dad was so full of crap. Kenny didn’t respond. Grabbing his shoulder pads and helmet, he scrambled out. “I guess my ride’s here,” he mumbled. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Hey, Brent, see that? It’s Gabe Holbrook,” Russ said. “Did you know he was MVP two years in a row?”
Even Brent looked like he was afraid their father would embarrass them. “Get your seat belt on,” Kenny grumbled to him.
“Are you coaching the team now?” Russ asked as Brent buckled up.
Holbrook situated himself behind the wheel before answering. “That’s the latest.”
“No one told me.” Russ glanced accusingly at Kenny. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t seen you since it happened,” he said and silently begged his father to drive off.
Unfortunately, they didn’t move. “I have to admit that makes me a little nervous,” he said. “I mean, this kid’s got real talent. You won’t…you know, hold Kenny back for what Hannah did, will you? Kenny had nothing to do with putting you in that chair. And he’s the best quarterback you’ve got. He should definitely start.”
Kenny felt his face flash hot. Thanks to his father, he was going to be benched for sure. Why did Russ have to get involved?
When Gabe’s gaze cut from his instrument panel to Kenny’s father, the expression in his eyes was glacial enough to remind Kenny of a character he’d once seen in a cartoon strip. Iceman could freeze people to the spot with one glance…. “You worry about your job as Kenny’s father, I’ll worry about my job as Kenny’s coach,” he said. Then he turned some knobs and flipped some switches and roared out of the lot.
Russ shook his head. “Oh boy,” he said. “Gabe’s going to be a problem, I can tell already. We need to take Coach Blaine out for a drink.”
GABE GLANCED at his watch. Before he drove all the way home from practice, he thought he should probably stop by and see his mother. He didn’t do that very often because he didn’t want to run into his father. But the state senate was in session, so Gabe was fairly confident Garth wouldn’t be around.
He cruised past his parents house, checking for his father’s Lincoln. When he didn’t see it in the open garage, or find his sister’s van in the drive, he pulled to the curb. His mother wasn’t to blame for the mess that had resulted in a half sister Gabe didn’t want. But it bothered him that Celeste persisted in being so understanding about the whole thing. How could she welcome Lucky into the family after what Garth had done?