“DAD FORGOT. I know he forgot,” Lewis told Kate as they sat in Greta McCabe’s Lone Star Dinner and Dance Hall at six-fifteen the next evening.
“He probably just got stuck in traffic,” Kate soothed, glad they had chosen such a locally popular, family friendly place to have the party. Once a garment factory, the large brick building had been turned into a restaurant several months back by Shane McCabe’s wife, Greta. She’d gone all out to make sure the local residents had a place to kick up their heels in style. In the center of the large establishment was a polished oak dance floor. The high-beamed ceiling was exposed, the walls painted white. Four raised dining areas, walled off by a rustic cedar railing, surrounded the spacious dance floor. The kitchen was at the rear of the building. To the left of that, was a raised play booth for a DJ, complete with a state-of-the-art sound system that even now was playing only the very best of country music. The food was plentiful and good, the atmosphere lively and fun. It was impossible to come here and not have a good time. “You know it’s an hour and a half drive from his office to here,” Kate continued.
“Maybe he’s just not coming.” Lewis continued to worry as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Brad and Riley both gave Kate looks that said, We knew this was a mistake, even attempting to depend on Dad. Even six-year-old Kevin looked a bit morose as he sat with his chin resting on his clenched fist while he wordlessly pushed a Texas Rangers’ patrol car back and forth across the blue-and-white gingham tablecloth. Knowing something had to be done to reassure the kids, Kate stood. “I’m going to call Sam on his cell phone to see if he’s on his way.”
“You’re assuming he’s even left the office,” Riley said glumly.
“He probably hasn’t,” Brad concurred.
Kate hurried off, determined to prove them wrong. Grabbing her cell phone, she headed out back and dialed Sam’s cell phone. Instead of ringing through, her call was automatically forwarded to his voice mail, which meant he was either in the car and on the phone, or not taking calls.
Greta McCabe caught up with Kate. A professional dancer and former Dallas Cowboys’ cheerleader before she turned dance hall owner, she was also a gifted dance teacher with a huge heart and a sassy sense of humor. But she was most famous for taming—and recently marrying—John and Lilah’s wildest son, Shane. “Where’s Sam?” Greta asked curiously.
I wish I knew, Kate thought. “On his way, I think. Hope.”
Greta cast a look over her shoulder, at the party area, which had been roped off with crepe paper and balloons. “The boys don’t seem to be having a very good time.”
Kate sighed, glad she had Greta to confide in. “They’re afraid their dad isn’t going to make it.” And, truthfully, so was Kate.
“Sounds like they’re desperately in need of some fun.”
Kate nodded. She looked at her old friend. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Absolutely,” Greta nodded. “You see what you can do to get the party going, and I’ll open up the dance floor a little early tonight.”
Kate decided to do even better than that. She went around to the tables that rimmed the big dance floor. Before the first note of the Dixie Chicks sounded, the dance floor was half full with experienced line dancers. Once that happened, it was no problem getting Riley, Brad and their dates on the dance floor, too. Kevin even put down his toy cars long enough to look interested. It was the birthday boy himself who looked paralyzed…with fear or loathing, Kate couldn’t tell. “What is it?” Kate asked as the lively strains of “Some Days You Gotta Dance” filled the hall.
Lewis flushed beet-red. “I can’t… I mean, I never… I’ve watched but…I don’t know how to…”
Kate clapped a reassuring hand on Lewis’s thin, bony shoulder. “I’ll teach you.”
Lewis looked as intrigued as he was terrified of making a fool of himself. “I’ll only goof up.”
“Then I’ll goof up, too.” Kate shot him a teasing wink. “We’ll make it look natural.”
Lewis rolled his eyes, unable to completely prevent a grin. “Oh, man…” he groaned dramatically.
“That’s the spirit!” Kate clapped Lewis on the shoulder again even as she reached for his younger brother’s hand. “Kev, you come, too. If we’re gonna have fun, we’re all gonna have fun.”
Greta met them on the dance floor. “We got two beginners, here,” Kate said.
“Exactly what I was hoping to hear.” Greta grinned, taking Lewis’s arm in hers. “There’s nothing I like better than teaching one of the McCabe boys to line dance. Kevin, you save a dance for me, too, all right, buddy?”
Kevin smiled shyly.
Thirty minutes and several dances with both Kate and Greta later, Lewis was kicking up his heels when Sam walked in the door. He had obviously taken the time somewhere along the line to change, because instead of the customary business suit and tie he wore to his Dallas office, he was wearing worn jeans, a pale blue Western-style shirt and boots. He carried a stack of presents in his arms. Sam started for Kate and Kevin, who were taking a break back at the party area. Kate stood as he approached and helped Sam with the presents. She noted Sam looked tired and stressed, despite his casual demeanor.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as they arranged the gift-wrapped packages next to the others.
“No problem.” Kate said as Sam hugged his son Kevin hello, then watched as Kevin skipped back out to the dance floor to join his brothers. “The boys have been having a great time dancing. You ought to join ’em.”
“No. Thanks.” Grimacing unhappily at just the suggestion of kicking up his heels to the raucous Garth Brooks’s tune, Sam said, “I’m not much for dancing.”
Now, Kate wanted to ask, or just since Ellie died? Although she suspected she already knew the answer. Beginning to feel a little uneasy…Greta’s Lone Star Dinner and Dance Hall looked like the last place Sam McCabe wanted to be, that or any other night, Kate continued enthusiastically, “We can eat whenever you want. The cake is in the kitchen, ready to go.”
Sam turned to Kate. “Where’s Will?”
Kate tried hard not to think about how unenthusiastic Will had been about attending the party. “Still at football practice. He’ll be here a little later.”
WILL HAD NEVER LIKED being singled out and criticized, but by the time he had attended his sixth “two-a-day” in the grueling August heat, he had figured out that for him that was all football practice at Laramie High School was going to be about. Every third word out of Coach Marten’s mouth seemed to be “McCabe!” and it was never in a congratulatory context.
Wednesday evening’s practice was particularly tough. The heat and humidity were brutal and Coach had them running from the get-go, moving rapid-fire from one play to another. And to his embarrassment, Will hadn’t memorized them nearly as well as his teammates. He went left when he was supposed to go right. He threw center when he was supposed to pass back. By the time practice ended he was as frustrated with his unaccustomed screwups as his coach. And it didn’t help to have Coach riding him constantly.
“Okay, one more play,” Coach said, with a steady look in Will’s direction. “And let’s try to get it right this time.”
The players lined up. Will shouted out the play, then took the ball from the center on the snap count and executed a five-step drop. Beautiful, Will thought as the rusher headed inside. Ball cradled securely in his hand, Will stepped first toward, then around the rush. Still looking downfield, Will reset his feet. Checking to make sure the receiver was open, he lifted his arm, adjusted his aim and prepared to throw.
“Stop thinking, McCabe!” Coach Marten bellowed impatiently. “And just do it!”
Coach Marten’s chastising words ringing in his ears, Will hastily followed through on the pass. As soon as the pigskin left his fingertips, he knew he’d released it a split second too soon. Not surprisingly, the football landed just short of the receiver. Will swore silently as yet another of his passes went incomplete. He couldn’t believe they were going to end practice on a failed play. And from the looks of it, neither could his teammates. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d been all thumbs today. It didn’t help knowing there was a group of varsity cheerleaders at the other end of the stadium, practicing on the running track that rimmed the football field, who had witnessed his every screwup.
On the sidelines, Coach Marten shook his head, making no effort to hide his disgust. “Okay, that’s it for today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. McCabe! Get over here!”
The players headed off the field, with Assistant Coach Gus Barkley. The team managers gathered up the equipment. The video manager for the team came down from the stands, his video camera in tow. As they all streamed for the locker room, Will ripped off his helmet and jogged over to the fifty-yard line where Coach Marten was standing, clipboard in hand. He braced himself for the tongue-lashing sure to follow.
Mike Marten looked at him. “You’re thinking too much. The plays need to be as automatic to you as breathing.”
Like he didn’t know that?
“Have you been studying your playbook?”
“Yes, sir.” Not that it helped all that much given that Coach Marten used an entirely different system of offense than what Will had been used to and had double the number of plays. Many seemed to be either the same or variations of plays his team had used in previous years. That gave the returning players a big advantage over Will, who’d had just two days to memorize them before practice started. Will had always been a quick study, but between the turmoil at home, his problems sleeping and the pressure of being the new guy on the team, he was having a hell of a time adjusting. Coach’s constant on-field badgering wasn’t helping.
Mike shook his head and continued grimly, “If you want a lot of playing time this year, you’re going to have to do better. Right now, the sophomore on Junior Varsity is playing better than you are. Understand, I’m not saying you can’t throw the ball. You can. In fact, you’ve got the best arm we’ve seen around here in years. But it’s going to take more than raw talent to lead this team. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Will was filled with shame. He wasn’t used to failing. The fact he was trying so hard and still screwing up right and left made it all the harder to bear. Not that Coach Marten’s criticism was totally without merit. The truth was his concentration hadn’t been worth crap since his mom had died. Some days, such as the morning he tried out for the team, it was there, great as ever. Other times, like this evening, he was so rattled he could barely recall his own name. Not that it mattered. On the football field, you either had it or you didn’t. It scared Will to think maybe he’d lost his ability to win. And judging from the highly pissed-off look on his face, Coach Marten wasn’t exactly too thrilled about it, either. “I need to work harder,” Will said finally when some response seemed required from him.
“A far sight harder,” Coach said flatly.
The brunt of the lecture over, Will waited for some sign of encouragement that things would get better by week’s end, or reassurance that he would find it easier to blend in with the team. Even an offer of extra help from the coaching staff while he adjusted to a different school and a different way of doing things. None came. Coach Marten just shook his head at Will again, looked at him as if there was so much more he wanted to say but wouldn’t, and walked away. Will stood there, helmet dangling from his hand, sweat streaming from his brow into his eyes, watching him go. He’d never felt like more of a failure in his life.
“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” a soft sympathetic voice said behind Will.
Will turned, and saw a pretty girl with long golden-brown hair and dark brown eyes, some half a foot shorter than him. She was dressed in burnt-orange wind shorts, a snug-fitting white T-shirt that had a megaphone and “Laramie High School Cheerleader” across the front, white athletic shoes and socks.
Not sure he wanted company after being chewed out by Coach Marten, he merely nodded in answer to her question.
“I’m Amanda Sloane.” Ignoring his less than enthusiastic welcome, she held out her hand.
Will shifted his helmet to his left hand and clasped her hand in his. It was soft and small enough to fit in the palm of his. He didn’t know why, but he felt better just talking to her, despite the way he had just humiliated himself in practice. “Will McCabe.”
“I know.” Amanda batted her eyes at him and smiled in a slow, sensual way that promised any guy lucky enough to get close to her a good time. “You’re the new quarterback.”
Remembering how bad he’d done at practice since joining the team, Will grimaced. “Not if Coach Marten has anything to say about it.”
“Oh, don’t mind him.” Still looking him over from head to foot, Amanda waved Will’s concern away. “Everyone knows he is always toughest on the good players. He wouldn’t bother yelling at you so much unless he thought you were really going to be good. Which,” she said firmly, batting her eyelashes at him again, “you are.”
“Oh, yeah?” Will challenged, his pulse picking up at the distinctly sexual vibes he was getting from her. “How do you know?”
Amanda tossed her hair. “I looked up your stats from the previous three years on the Internet—I accessed them through the sport section archives of the Dallas newspaper. They were impressive.”
So was she, Will thought as he took the time to look her over, too. He hadn’t had anyone show this much interest in him right off the bat for a long while. Of course her interest probably came with a downside, too. She was probably only interested in him because she needed a new boyfriend and thought he was going to be the new quarterback for their team.
Her sexy smile widened. “Have you signed up for classes yet?”
Will shook his head. “Late registration isn’t until next week.”
She twirled the ends of her hair around her fingertip and looked at him thoughtfully. “Since you’re a senior transfer they’ll probably let you take whatever you want, but I should probably tell you who the best teachers are, anyway, so you can try and get in their classes.”
“Thanks,” Will said. “I’d appreciate it.”
Amanda looked into his eyes. “Want to do it tonight?” she asked casually.
Will hesitated. Lewis’s birthday party was tonight. He’d already missed several hours of the celebration, which was slated to continue to around eleven. He was supposed to go over to Greta McCabe’s dance hall as soon as he’d showered and cleaned up. He’d been dreading it all day.
“I haven’t had dinner yet. We could grab a pizza,” Amanda suggested. “My treat.”
Suddenly that sounded a lot better than any family weep-fest, where they all sat around trying to look happy, pretending they didn’t miss Mom when they did. “Sure,” Will said, pushing aside the tinge of guilt he felt for ditching his family. Again. There were going to be so many people there, no one would miss him, anyway. “Just let me go in and get a shower and put my equipment away.”
Amanda grinned. “Welcome to Laramie High School, Will.”
Funny that she should be the first person his age to say that. Will grinned back, aware he was suddenly happier and more excited about something than he’d been in a long time. “Thanks.”
WILL NEVER SHOWED UP. And Lewis never really stopped looking for him. Hours later, they returned home one exhausted group. While the boys scattered, the older ones going off to walk or drive their dates home, Sam carried a very sleepy Kevin up to bed. Kate and Lewis brought the presents in, then Kate took the leftover cake out to the kitchen. Kate was just closing the refrigerator door when Lewis came up to Kate and offered her an impromptu hug that meant the world to her. “I want to say it was my best birthday ever,” he said, a glimmer of sadness coming into his eyes. “But I really can’t.”
“Because of your mom,” Kate guessed.
“Right.” That quickly, Lewis had tears glistening in his eyes. To his credit, he didn’t even try to look away. “I mean, I had fun. I really did,” he assured her thickly, “but…”
“You still miss your mom,” Kate said softly, stroking his hair when he couldn’t seem to go on.
Lewis nodded. The tears he’d been withholding poured down his cheeks. Kate took him all the way into her arms. She rubbed his shoulders, just the way his mother would have done. “Of course you do,” Kate sympathized gently. “You all miss her and so does your dad. Especially days like today.”
“Is it gonna get better?” Lewis moved back, so he could see Kate’s face.
Kate nodded. “Yeah. It will. It’s just gonna take time. Meanwhile, let yourself feel what you need to feel. Don’t try to keep anything buried deep inside you.”
“But if I—” Again, Lewis choked up and couldn’t go on.
Kate studied his worried expression. “Are you afraid your brothers will make fun of you?”
He nodded anxiously and kept his eyes pinned on her face. Sensing he needed physical as well as verbal comfort, Kate pulled him in close to her side, and walked them over to the kitchen stools, so he could sit beside her, and they could talk more comfortably. “If they did, honey, it would only be because they didn’t understand…because they haven’t gone through anything like it themselves. It’s nothing for you to feel bad about. What makes you feel bad is when you’re sad or lonely or scared and you don’t talk to anyone about it.”
Lewis bit his lower lip anxiously. “You mean, like a shrink?”
“I mean, like anybody,” Kate corrected gently. “Your dad, me, a teacher or guidance counselor, even a family friend. Heck, you could pour out your problems to that stove over there or write them down in a journal and you’d end up feeling better because you took ’em out and dealt with them instead of letting them fester inside and make you miserable. And of course, you’ve got your uncle John and aunt Lilah, who are always ready and willing to listen anytime you need to talk, too. Don’t forget about them.”
Lewis frowned. “They’re in Central America, though, doing that missionary stuff.”
“But they’ll be back in another week and a half.” The same time as Craig. “In the meantime, I’m here and so is your dad,” Kate said gently.
Sam appeared in the doorway. Ducking his head so his dad could not see his tears, Lewis swiveled around on the stool. Sam gave Kate a fierce look only she could see, clearly blaming her for Lewis’s distress, then said to Lewis cheerfully, “Hey there, sport, want to go up and see if we can’t load that game software onto your computer?”
“Sure, Dad.” Doing his best to hide his tears, Lewis rubbed his knuckles across his cheek and dashed up the back stairs.
“I’ll be right there,” Sam called after him. As soon as Lewis was out of earshot, Sam turned back to Kate, and snapped, “Did you upset him?”
“No,” Kate said in a slow, measured tone, ignoring the accusing look in Sam’s dark brown eyes and the way his constant questioning of her motives and actions hurt her. “I comforted him.” There was a huge difference.
Tension simmered between them, stronger than ever before. “Then what was that about?” Sam demanded gruffly.
“He turned twelve today,” Kate said quietly and emphatically. “It was his first birthday without his mom. He misses her. Of course he’s sad, Sam. Everyone is.” Because they couldn’t help but wish Ellie were there, celebrating right along with them. But that wasn’t happening and never would again. It was hard enough for an adult to accept; it was even harder for children, who were still very impressionable.
Without a word Sam turned away and headed up the stairs after his son. Kate wasn’t happy about the abrupt way he ended the conversation, but she wasn’t surprised. And she sure wasn’t going to call Sam on the way he evaded his feelings instead of dealing with them, lest her words spark an argument and ruin what was left of Lewis’s birthday. Besides, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to talk Sam into opening up to her, any more than John and Lilah McCabe had. If and when that ever happened, and right now Kate wasn’t sure it ever would, it would be because he wanted it to happen. And for no other reason.
In the meantime he would go on, teaching his sons by example. And everyone here would continue to emulate his strong, silent behavior and hold all their feelings inside, no matter how much it hurt, or how self-destructive that method of coping was. Until something happened, the dam burst, and the family fell apart even more, or one of them acted out in a way Sam couldn’t ignore.
Kate wasn’t sure she’d still be around to see it, when something finally woke Sam up to what was really going on here and brought him to his senses. Realistically it could take months or years for things to come to the kind of crisis that Sam could not find a way to rationalize and ignore. On the other hand, it could happen the very next day. Sadly, Kate thought, there was just no way to predict when and where. All she knew for certain was that one day the crisis would come.
SAM KNEW WHAT KATE WANTED from him, but she wasn’t going to get it. He had survived Ellie’s death by sucking it up and being as tough as he needed to be, and he’d taught his boys to do the same. He wasn’t going to apologize for that. Their combined toughness had gotten them through the past six months. Yeah, there had been dark days, and even darker nights where they had all suffered, and Sam was sure there would be some in the future, too. In the meantime, Lewis was the son most like Ellie. The one who might not be tough enough. Lewis had a hard enough time as it was, coping with the loss of his mom. Sam was furious with Kate for encouraging Lewis to wallow in his grief on his birthday, of all days. Today Lewis should have been happy, period. And Kate should have encouraged him to concentrate on that instead of poking and pinching the wound.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Lewis said when Sam went up to join him. He was already seated at his computer desk, loading his game CD onto his hard drive. His face was red and he was staring hard at the computer screen.
Sam pulled up a chair and sat beside Lewis, amazed as always at his son’s prowess with anything computer-related, even at such a young age. “Sorry for what?” Sam asked gently. As far as he was concerned, Lewis—the one kid in the family who could always be counted on to behave—never had anything to feel apologetic about.
“For acting like a sissy.” Lewis wiped his nose on his sleeve and kept his face averted in obvious embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to cry. I just couldn’t help it.”
Sam knew that feeling. Realizing how much shame his son felt over the way he’d broken down, Sam abruptly felt like the unfeeling ogre and poor excuse for a father that Kate deemed him to be. “It’s okay.” Sam patted Lewis’s shoulder awkwardly, unsure how to comfort him. “We all cry sometimes. We just can’t do it all the time. You know what I mean?”
Lewis nodded as fresh tears threatened. “Why do you think Will dissed me by skipping the party?” he asked, his chin quivering. “Is he ashamed to be seen with me because I’m so nerdy?” His eyes were filled with hurt. “Or does he just not care about me at all?”
Sam reached over, took Lewis into his arms and hugged him fiercely. “Will loves you. We all love you.” Sam rubbed his knuckles playfully across the top of Lewis’s head as they drew apart. “And you’re not nerdy.”
Lewis sent Sam an irritated glance, sniffed. “Dad, I am.”
“Being bright doesn’t make you a nerd.”
Lewis looked at Sam in exasperation. “But I’m not a jock, like Will, Dad. Or the coolest trumpet player in the jazz band, like Riley, or the star of school plays, like Brad. I’m a computer geek. That’s all I can do. All I want to do!”
He said it as if it were the worst thing in the entire world. Feeling both sad and amused to realize Lewis had self-esteem issues related to who and what he was, which was in turn a chip off the old block, Sam said, “Well, my life revolves around computers, too, and that’s all I want to do,” Sam said emphatically. “Does that make me a geek and a nerd, too?”
“Well…” Lewis grinned as he thought about that. “No…”
“Then neither are you,” Sam said firmly. “You are, however, twelve, and twelve is a tough age for anyone. Your voice changes, you go through puberty, and growth spurts…”
“I know all about that,” Lewis interrupting, letting Sam know with a glance that any further discussion of the subject was totally unnecessary. “Mom told me.”
Which was something else Ellie had done. Had “the talk” with her boys, so that by the time Sam came along, prepared to do the same, they were already weary of the subject and convinced he, as their father, had nothing worthwhile to add. “Then you know this is a phase that will pass, and one day, too, you will be as tall and strong and sure about yourself as your older brothers are. You just have to give it time, and let yourself be who and what you are without worrying about what anyone else thinks. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“In the meantime, we just have to hang tough, all of us, and keep on keeping on. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Lewis nodded and threw himself into Sam’s arms again. Sam hugged him, hard. When he was sure Lewis felt better, he let him go. “You know, it’s been a long day and you’re looking a little tired—”
“Just let me play my game a little, Dad, and then I’ll go to bed. Promise.”
“Okay. But don’t stay up too late,” Sam said.
“I won’t.”
Sam headed back downstairs.
Kate was ensconced in a club chair, her legs curled up beneath her. She was fast asleep. She’d kicked her cowgirl boots off and they lay on the floor beside her, and she had more wedding stuff—satin ribbons and lace this time—across her lap. Her head was propped on her hand, her hair spilling across her shoulders. She looked vulnerable and sweet, nothing like the busybody she was. Despite the fact his mind and heart were so numb he had given up on the idea of ever making love to another woman again, his body was not getting the message. And it wasn’t just tonight. Every time he walked in and saw her, he was aware of her. Too aware.
Behind him, the front door opened. Sam turned just in time to see Brad and Riley come in from their dates. They glanced at Kate. “What’s she doing?”
“Sleeping, obviously,” Sam said quietly.
“You’re not going to just leave her there all night, are you?”
“Of course not,” Sam said. Although he’d been thinking about doing just that. “I’ll wake her up. You boys go on to bed.”
“Sure thing. Hey, it was a pretty good party tonight, wasn’t it?” Brad said.
“I haven’t had so much fun since we moved to Laramie,” Riley concurred.
Sam envied their ability to move on. Of the entire family, Brad and Riley were coping the best in the wake of Ellie’s death. “I’m glad you boys had a good time.”
“Lousy of Will not to show, though,” Brad remarked.
“Yeah, I thought it was mean, too,” Riley agreed.
“I’m going to talk to him about that when he comes in,” Sam said.
Brad and Riley exchanged looks that said they didn’t want to be in Will’s shoes. “Yeah, well, ’night, Dad,” Brad said.
“Good night.”
Sam waited until the boys had ascended the stairs before he walked over to Kate. Her perfume, something citrusy and sweet, teased his senses as he neared her. He touched her shoulder. She started. “Go to bed,” he said.
“Can’t.” Kate yawned and stretched in a way that only emphasized the fullness of her breasts beneath the soft cotton fabric of her dress. “I’m waiting up for Will. The way he hurt Lewis’s feelings was inexcusable, and someone needs to talk to him about that.”
Clearly, she had no faith Sam would have thought to do so on his own. “I’ll take care of that,” Sam said.
Kate looked at him, considering. The front door opened again and Will walked in. To Sam’s annoyance his eldest son didn’t look the least bit guilty or contrite. “Where have you been?” Sam demanded angrily.
“Forget that,” Will replied disrespectfully. Ignoring Kate entirely, Will looked at Sam as if he despised him with every fiber of his being. “Did Coach Marten get you a football scholarship to U.T.-Austin?”
Sam went still. “Where did you hear that?”
Will advanced on Sam, fists knotted at his side. Frustration glittered in his eyes. “Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“And you turned it down?” Will asked incredulously.
Sam nodded wordlessly in reply, even as he noticed the smear of lipstick on Will’s neck and could smell perfume clinging to his skin.
“Why?”
“Because I decided I didn’t want to play college ball,” Sam said calmly.
Will clamped his lips together mutinously. “And Coach Marten was pissed.”
Sam had only to catch a glimpse of Kate’s pained expression to know that she recalled her father’s emotional reaction to his decision every bit as well as he did. Mike Marten hadn’t just been pissed off. He had been bitter, angry, hurt, disappointed and insulted. And he had stayed that way through the entire summer before Sam went off to college, Ellie by his side. For a while Sam had tried to make amends with him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen—that Coach was never going to forgive him—he had given up and stopped thinking about what might have been and started thinking about his future, with his wife and kids and computers. Sam knew he’d made the right decision. He’d assumed that Coach would have figured that out over time, given Sam’s extraordinary professional success. But apparently not, judging by Will’s expression, Sam thought, aware he was now as deeply disappointed in Mike Marten as Mike Marten was in him. “What Coach Marten thought was not important,” Sam said.
“The hell it isn’t!” Will interrupted. He stomped farther into the room and threw his car keys down on the hall table. “I’m playing on his team now, Dad. Or at least I’m trying to. The way he’s riding me…” Will stopped, shook his head. “Well, it all makes sense.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. It had never been like Will to complain. “What do you mean, the way he’s riding you?” he demanded, suspicious.
Will’s expression hardened with resentment. “He’s on my case all the time. I didn’t understand why. Coaches have always been glad to have me on their team. But not Coach Marten. He acts like he doesn’t even want me there. Thanks to Amanda Sloane, I finally understand why. It’s because he thinks I’m just like you.”
Sam blew out a breath. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t bother.” Will prepared to head off.
Sam caught him by the shoulder and reeled him back. “Hold on a minute. We’re not finished.”
“Why?” Will spun around and glared at him. “Something else you forgot to tell me?”
Sam ignored the tightening in his gut and gave Will a narrow look. “You missed your brother’s birthday party tonight.”
Will shrugged, not caring, and not about to apologize for his absence. “I had a date,” he said succinctly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught the look of frank disapproval and disappointment on Kate’s face. He was feeling exactly the same way. Will hadn’t exactly been a warm and fuzzy kid before Ellie died. He had always been one to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. Ellie had been able to draw him out, to a point. Sam never had. Talking to Will about anything but sports was like talking to a stone. Still, Sam had to try. “You should have been there,” he said flatly, recalling all too well how devastated and hurt Lewis had been.
Silence fell between them. The remorse Sam hoped to see on Will’s face never materialized. Still, Sam waited, refusing to back down.
“So I’ll apologize,” Will said eventually.
“You’ll do better than that,” Sam reiterated sternly, aware he, too, was hanging on to his temper by a thread. “You’ll find some way to make it up to him. Got it?”
Will nodded. “I got it,” he said sarcastically. He shot a rebellious look at Kate, then another at Sam, before muttering cantankerously, “Can I go now?”
Sam dropped his hand back to his side. He’d won the argument but he still felt defeated. Maybe because he felt as though he hadn’t dented the wall Will had built around himself since Ellie died. And he knew Will needed to let someone in besides the girl he had apparently been kissing. He wished like hell it would be him. “I’m disappointed in you, Will,” he said, then waited for the impact of his words to sink in.
“Well, I’m disappointed in you, Dad.” Abruptly, Will’s voice trembled with emotion. “The least you could have done was tell me about the way you’d ditched your scholarship before we decided to move here.”
Sam saw now putting Kate’s father and his son together, even after all this time had passed, was just asking for trouble. “Do you want to go to school somewhere else?” Sam asked calmly.
“What?” Will blinked and looked at him as if he’d grown two heads.
“It’s not too late to get you into a prep school in Dallas, if that’s what you want,” Sam reiterated calmly. In fact, he was sure he could manage it.
“That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?” Will said bitterly. He glowered at Sam as if he hated him. “Just run away.” He shouldered past him and stormed up the stairs.
“You should go after him,” Kate said, looking as deeply concerned as Sam felt.
Sam swung around to face her, furious she had been there to witness yet another of his failures. “And you should mind your own business.”