16

Jess was on her computer researching child psychologists when Eva stuck her head in the door. “Marta Quintana is here. She says she has an appointment, but there’s nothing on the books.”

After making one last note, Jess closed her computer and looked up. “Ask her to come on back, would you please?”

Eva hesitated. “If you’re just going to be talking, would it be okay if I close up and go on home? I’d like to be back in San Ramon before the rush hour traffic starts.”

“Go.” Jess waved her away. “I don’t need you anymore today.” Rush hour in San Ramon? Who knew?

When the door opened again and Eva ushered Marta Quintana in, Jess got up, met her halfway across the room, and shook her hand. “Marta! I’m so glad you could come. Please have a seat.”

Marta lowered herself to the edge of the chair. Worry lines deepened on her forehead. “Is everything all right? Is there something wrong with Gabe?”

“Gabe is fine. I told him this wasn’t about him. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He told me, but I started thinking that if something really was wrong, of course you wouldn’t tell him before you told me.”

Jess had gone back to her desk, but she reached a hand out toward Marta. “Oh, Marta, I’m so sorry you’ve been worried, and just so you know? If ever I have something to tell you about any of your kids, I’ll call you straightaway. I won’t send a secondhand message home. Okay?”

“Okay.” Marta nodded, but those worry lines were still there.

“So, the reason I asked you to come in.” Jess took a deep breath. She hadn’t ever done this before, and it was turning out to be a little harder than she thought. “How happy are you at San Ramon General?”

“Happy?” Poor Marta still did not know what was going on, and Jess looked for the quickest way possible to put her out of her misery.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I’m looking for a full-time office manager and medical assistant, and I’d like you to think about the job. It’s going to be a two-person office here for the foreseeable future, so I need someone who’ll be more of a teammate than an employee. And I think we’d be a good team. At least I’d like to talk about it.”

“What about Eva? Is she leaving?”

Jess laughed. “As far as Eva is concerned, she is already gone. It was always understood that she was on loan from the San Ramon office, and she is counting the days until she’s back there for good. I guess she’s just a bright lights and big city kind of girl.”

Marta did not smile at Jess’s little joke. She just raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Well, she’s young. It’s to be expected.”

Jess didn’t say anything.

After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, Marta spoke again. “You know, this might be an answer to prayer. I’ve been wondering what I was going to do when Gabe left for college. I wouldn’t have been able to do what I’ve had to do without him. I couldn’t have worked the night shift, that’s for sure. And he was always around to help with the kids. It would be good to work here in Last Chance and be home nights.”

“Well then, could you get me a résumé? I think that would be the next step. We can talk again after that.”

“Sure, I can do that.” Marta got to her feet, and Jess was pleased to see that the worry lines, while still there, did not seem as deep. “Oh, and I want to thank you for taking so much time with Gabe. We’ve always talked about him going to college, but now he really sees a way to get there, and it’s given him such purpose. And for the first time, I know how it’s going to happen too. I can’t tell you what a heavy load that has been. Gabe is so smart. It would have killed me if he didn’t get to college. He’ll get over having to quit football. He knows it’s for the best.”

“Gabe’s a pretty amazing young man, but then, you knew that long before I met him.” Jess walked Marta to the front door and let her out.

On the way back to her office, a little niggling finger of accusation poked her in a tender spot under her ribs. Encouraging Gabe when he decided to quit the team wasn’t a cruel thing to do. In fact, it was the best decision possible, under the circumstances. She knew it, his mom knew it, and even Gabe knew it. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had taken something important from someone who valued it and tossed it away.

The lights were on at Jess’s house when Andy drove down her street on his way home. Earlier he had thought he might be ready to stop by and talk to her, but nope, he was still too mad. He drove on by. Maybe he needed to rethink this whole thing with Jess, anyway. Yes, she was beautiful, and smart, and funny, and he loved being with her, but she didn’t like football. At all. Not even after watching the game last Sunday and listening while he explained the basic rudiments of the game did she show any great interest. And why did he think he had to force it on her, anyway? What fun would it be to be with someone who he had taught to tolerate that which he loved?

You know what, Ryan? I think you’re the problem, not Jess. And as soon as you can figure out a gentlemanly way to do it, you need to let her off the hook for homecoming.

With a shrug of resignation, Andy turned off Jess’s street onto the long dirt road that led to his house. Well, everything didn’t always work out the way you wanted it to; he should have learned that by now.

Still lost in thought, Andy stopped his truck in its usual spot under the cottonwood, got out, and headed for the front porch. He had one foot on the bottom step before he noticed the light in the back of the house. He hadn’t left a light on; he was almost sure of it. Stepping back, Andy looked around his yard and for the first time spotted the old pickup with the Kansas plates nearly hidden in the brush, with easy access to the back door, and an old chest and a rocker that had been his grandmother’s already in the bed.

Walking back to his truck, Andy reached behind the seat for his tire iron. As silently as possible, he mounted the creaky old steps and let himself into the house. Someone was already there. He could hear them moving around in the back bedroom. Thankful he was wearing tennis shoes instead of boots and that he had already oiled the hinges, Andy pushed the door open. Someone was there, all right, kneeling in front of an open dresser drawer and pawing through the contents. Raising the tire iron, he slowly moved forward and stepped on a creaky board.

Instantly, the man’s head whipped around, and he raised his arm in front of his face to protect himself. “Shoot fire, Andy, what are you doing with that thing? Put it down before you hurt somebody.”

Andy stared hard at the wizened old man kneeling before him. “Dad?”

“Who’d you think it was? Santy Claus?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? This is my house. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“No, Dad, it’s my house.” Andy lowered the tire iron, but he didn’t put it down. “You just walked off and left it. I bought it for taxes years ago.”

“Well, I can’t say you took very good care of it. This place is a mess.”

“I’ll ask you again, Dad. What are you doing here? And what are you looking for in that chest? Nothing there belongs to you.”

The old man grabbed the top of the dresser and hauled himself to his feet. “Well, I picked up this old magazine in the barbershop, and it had an article in it about you. Yes it did. Said the NFL didn’t want you anymore and you had scooted back to this little wide spot to coach a bunch of snot-nosed kids. They get that right?”

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.” Andy shifted the tire iron to his other hand. The fingers of the one he had been holding it with were starting to cramp, he was gripping it so tightly.

“Oh, lighten up, Andy. I was just funnin’ with you a little. But you brought it on yourself, you know, acting so high and mighty before. And what I was doing in that chest is none of your business.”

Andy was tired of asking. He just stood and looked at his dad, until finally the old man muttered something under his breath that Andy couldn’t quite hear and looked away. “To tell the truth, I need a place to stay for a while. I’ve had a run of bad luck and need a place to get back on my feet. Shoot, you’re the one who threw me out of my own house, and then stole it out from under me. I think you owe me.”

“Owe you. Right.” Andy clenched and unclenched his fist. “You still drinking?”

“Naw. Haven’t had a drop in years. Swear to it.”

Andy dropped his head. When he looked up again, his dad was watching him, naked pleading in his eyes.

“Come on in the kitchen, Dad. We’ll get something to eat and talk.”

Immediately his dad perked up and followed him to the kitchen. “You don’t have much in there, and that’s a fact. Hope you don’t mind if I ate that leftover chicken. I was pretty hungry when I got here.”

Andy opened the refrigerator without saying anything, and his dad perched on a stool, the very stool where Jess had sat while he fixed her dinner on a much happier occasion. When was that? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“How’s your mother?” The question seemed to come from nowhere.

“She’s fine.” Andy was not inclined to discuss his mother with the man he had to protect her from when he was just in high school.

“Where’s she at?”

“She’s happy.”

His dad laughed. “Not going to tell me, huh? Well, you don’t have to. That meddling sister of hers was always trying to get her to leave me and come live with her. I bet your mom high-tailed it up there the minute she thought I was gone. Betcha if I went on up to Oklahoma and knocked on that front door right now, she’d be the one to open it. That’d be a kick, wouldn’t it?”

Andy turned and leveled his gaze on his dad. “I wouldn’t advise that.”

“So what are you going to do? Call the law on me again?”

Leaning against the counter, Andy folded his arms and looked around the room. When he spoke, his every word was cold and measured. “I’ve been working pretty hard on the house, Dad. What do you think of my work?”

His dad shrugged. “I told you I thought the place was a mess. What’d you do?”

“See those rough patches on the wall there, and there, and there? That’s where I patched holes you punched in the wall. They’re a little rough yet, but I’m not finished. And see that doorjamb over there? The unpainted one? Well, I’ve replaced that one because it was out of line after you kicked the door in. I fixed the one in Mom’s bedroom too. So, yeah, when I say leave Mom alone, you can bet I mean it.”

“Well, here’s a surprise for you, buddy. I’m not any more interested in seeing that old bat than she is in seeing me. So don’t worry about it.”

The muscles in Andy’s neck and shoulders ached, they were so tight, and he rolled his shoulders to loosen them. “Look, Dad, we’ve got to call a truce. You’ve said you need a place to get on your feet, and I’ve said you can stay awhile, so we’ve got to find a way to do that without killing each other. There’s plenty of room. It’s a big house, but it’s my house, and that includes the furniture you’ve got out in your truck. We need to get that back in here.”

“Shoot, boy, I’m all for a truce. I’m the easiest man in the world to get along with now, you just try me.”

“Glad to hear it. But everything rests on you not drinking. The minute you start drinking again, you’re gone. And if that means calling the law again, don’t think I won’t do it.”

“I told you, son. I’m not drinking.”

“Then we’re good.” He turned back to the stove. “I’m just going to fix sausage and scrambled eggs. And I think I’ve got a roll of those canned biscuits. That sound good to you?”

“Sounds more’n good. Especially if you’ve got some green chile to go with it.”

“I’ve got green chile.”

“Oh, man. Home again and eating real green chile. I have died and gone to heaven.”

Andy pulled a package of sausage from the refrigerator and began making patties. “Well, as close as you’re likely to get, anyway.”

Later, after dinner, and after Andy had cleaned the kitchen, he wandered into the living room and flipped on the TV before settling into his chair. His scrambled eggs and sausage sat like a fist in his stomach. All his life, his dad had found some excuse or another to go off by himself, and when he did, the man who returned was a different man completely—swaggering, obnoxious, and downright mean. Tonight, as soon as his dad had taken his last bite of scrambled egg, he leaned back in his chair, stretched, and said he might as well go get himself settled in. Since then, only silence had come from behind the closed door. Was he drinking? Andy told himself he couldn’t care less one way or the other. If he wasn’t, that was fine, he could stay a little longer; if he was drinking, he was gone tonight. Simple as that. But the old sick feeling in his stomach said it wasn’t quite so simple. So did the slight trembling in his hands. When does your dad stop being your dad? And how long does it take to stop being the kid who loves and fears and hates him all at the same time?

“Son?”

Andy jumped.

“Son, I have a couple things I need to say, and I’d like to get ’em said before I go to bed.”

“Okay.” Andy looked closely at his dad. He seemed okay so far.

“First of all, I want to say I’m sorry about what I said about that magazine in the barbershop. You just surprised me coming up behind me like that, waving that tire iron all around, and I guess I got a little ticked off. There was an article about you in there, but it wasn’t ugly like I made it sound. It was just about how you were going back to coach your old team, and the Glory Days, and so forth. I just want you to know that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you telling me that.”

“And the other thing, well, I had no need to call your mom an old bat. She’s a good woman, and I’m glad to hear she’s happy. She deserves a little happiness. That’s all I wanted to say. G’night, now. I’m going to turn in.” He gave a half wave of his hand and ambled back where he came from.

For a moment, Andy sat frozen in his chair as a wave of rage began in his middle and spread through his body to his fingers, causing them to grip the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. Who did his dad think he was? Turning up after how many years? Thirteen? And waltzing in here like nothing had happened, calling him son? Conceding that his mother was a good woman and deserved happiness like he wasn’t the cause of all her pain? And acting like just because he wasn’t drinking anymore—if he actually wasn’t drinking anymore—everything was just fine and all should be forgiven? Well, life doesn’t work that way, Dad.

Andy jumped up; there was no way he could sit still. His hands closed and the desire to crash his fist into something was almost overwhelming. One look at his living room wall with its still-rough patches convinced him that couldn’t be an option. This room had seen far too much punching; there would be no more.

Grabbing a windbreaker off a hook, Andy opened the door and set off running across the porch, down the front steps, and down the road. The moon hadn’t come up yet, and the road was so dark he couldn’t see his feet rise and fall. But he could hear their rhythmic pounding, and he had run this road a thousand times and knew every rut and curve. Finally, up ahead, he saw the gentle glow of porch lights and his feet touched pavement. Still he ran, even faster now that asphalt was under his feet instead of rough dirt.

“Andy? Is that you?”

Andy realized he had been aware all along that he was approaching Jess’s house, and hearing her voice came as no surprise, even though other than the two of them, the street was deserted.

“Are you out running in the dark? Why don’t you have a light or some reflective gear on, or something? People won’t be able to see you.”

Andy stood bent over, hands on his knees, trying to pull air into his starving lungs. With one arm, and because he had no air to speak with anyway, he gestured toward the empty street.

“Well, I guess you’re right. It’s not exactly a freeway out here tonight, is it? Come on, you need to walk to cool down. I’ll walk with you. Let me run in and grab my jacket. I just came out to drop a birthday card to my mom in my mailbox.”

He had already started walking when she came back, but it didn’t take more than a few quick steps for her to catch up. Matching her steps to his, she walked with him in silence down to the end of the block and back. Finally, as they approached her house again, she spoke.

“You were really moving when I saw you coming. Either something really was after you, like Les always says, or you were trying to work something out. I’m guessing option two. Am I right?”

He didn’t look at her but pulled another deep breath into his lungs. “It has not been a good day.”

“I’m sorry about that, especially since I think I know why it was so bad.” She stopped at the walk that led through her front yard to her porch. “Why don’t you come on in, and I’ll make us some cocoa, or tea, or coffee if that’s what you want. We can talk. We probably need to talk, don’t you think?”

Andy hesitated. He wasn’t at all sure he was ready to talk to Jess, but if he didn’t go in, he’d just have to go home again where his dad was, or maybe just keep on running, and truthfully, he didn’t think he could do that.

“Come on.” She held out her hand. “I’ve got a nice fire going, and I make the best cocoa. I think you want to yell at me, and I need to tell you why I think I did the right thing. We can have a fine old time.”

She was little more than a shadow standing there at the end of her walk with the dim glow coming from the porch backlighting her hair, but he could see that she was smiling for all the world as if they had just had a little tiff that a cup of cocoa could set straight. Maybe he did need to talk to her tonight, after all. He’d start by telling her about his dad and see where that led. Pretending not to see the hand she offered and shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked beside her to her front door.

“Seriously? Not a word for thirteen years and then he just turns up?” Jess sat with her feet tucked under her, cradling her mug of cocoa in both hands.

In the fireplace, a piñon log crumbled to glowing coals, and Andy got up to add another log. “Yup. That’s about it.”

“But why now?”

“I think he’s just out of options and wants to come home. Despite the fact that he sold every inch of land we once had and did his level best to destroy the house, it’s home. He grew up there, just like I did. Just like his father did.”

“But he said he only wants to stay for a little while, didn’t he? Till he gets his feet on the ground?”

Andy gave a wry chuckle. “Did you ever hear the story about the camel who just wanted to get his nose in the tent? Before anyone knew it, the camel was in the tent and everyone else was outside. That’s Dad. He’s not going anywhere unless . . .” His voice trailed away.

“Unless what?”

“I told him if he started drinking again, he was gone. I meant it too.”

“What do you think the chances of that happening are?”

“To tell the truth, I haven’t the slightest idea. I don’t even know when he stopped drinking. Ten years ago? Tonight when I told him he couldn’t stay if he was still drinking? I don’t even know if, when I go home tonight, he’ll be asleep or busy trying to set the house on fire. He doesn’t look good, though. If I saw him on the street, I’d guess him to be about ten years older than I know him to be. He’s had a rough life.”

The room fell silent except for the pop and crackle of the fire. Andy looked down into his cooling cocoa. After a long moment, he spoke.

“Gabe Quintana came in to see me today. That’s some scar he’s got.”

“It’ll nearly disappear by the time all is said and done. He’ll be able to make up all sorts of stories about how he got it.” She grinned at Andy, but he was staring into the fire and didn’t see.

“Saying he got it playing football is a pretty good story in itself.”

“So he did tell you.”

“He did.” Andy still didn’t look at her.

“Andy, you’ve got to see it’s the best thing for Gabe. He has got so much potential, and football, right now, is just getting in the way of him fulfilling that potential. Do you know he wants to be a doctor? He’s certainly smart enough, but if you really want to be a doctor, you can’t want anything more, or it’s not going to happen. Believe me, I know.”

This time, Andy did look at her, and to tell the truth, she found herself wishing he wouldn’t.

“Okay, for the moment, I’m not going into your just deciding to take over my job.”

Jess set her mug on the coffee table with a thump. “I never—”

Andy stopped her with a raised hand. “Let me finish. But there’s something that you don’t know, and Gabe does. Leaving the team in the middle of the season just because you change your mind is a character issue. It marks you as a quitter, someone who can’t be depended on.”

“Gabe, someone who can’t be depended on? That’s crazy, and you know it. And the last thing anyone could ever call Gabe is a quitter. Sometimes things just come up. Surely the team can understand that. And if they can’t, well, Gabe is going to have to learn that he can’t let other people’s opinions dictate what he does.”

“You still don’t understand, do you? I said it’s a character issue. It’s not how the team will view Gabe, it’s how he’ll see himself, and no matter what else he does, a part of him will always believe he let the team down.”

Jess looked away for a long moment before turning back to Andy. “This is all just too preposterous. Football is a game, for pity’s sake, not holy orders.”

Andy just looked at her in silence for a long moment while she wished she could snatch the words she had just spoken from the air. When he did speak, his voice was low and tightly controlled. “You’re right. Football is just a game. But it’s a game Gabe loves, and one he’s good at. Maybe he’s not scholarship material, but so what? Does everything you do have to have some kind of material value? Can’t you do something for the sheer joy it gives you? Look, you’ve said he should sit out this Friday’s game, and maybe next week’s as well. Okay. You’re his doctor, and I respect that. But after that? That’s between me and Gabe. Do you get that? It just doesn’t concern you. There’ll be a grand total of three games left when Gabe can play again. Are three games really going to make the difference between medical school and sweeping up after folks? Really?”

“Maybe not for most kids, but for Gabe? Who knows?” Jess wanted to shake Andy. Why couldn’t he understand that this wasn’t just about football? It was about Gabe and his future. “Do you know how thin he’s stretched? He doesn’t have five unscheduled minutes in a day. He’s worried about letting his mom down; he’s worried about letting you down. But what about Gabe? When does he get to think about what’s good for him?”

“Are you even listening to me, or are you really that convinced that nobody but you knows anything?” Andy’s voice was still low, but Jess had never heard it sound so cold. “There will be three games when Gabe comes back. Three. If he plays, he will prove to himself one more time that he can finish whatever he starts, even if it’s hard. And that just might be more valuable to him in the long run than three weeks sitting in your office with his books while his team beats their brains out on the field.”

Jess felt heat flood through her body and reach her fingertips. Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced at her watch and stood up.

“It’s getting late. I’ve got to make an early start, and I’m sure you do too. Besides, I know you want to get back to see how your dad is getting along.”

Andy sat where he was a moment looking up at her before he too got to his feet. He looked as if he had so much more to say, but he just nodded as he leaned over and placed his mug next to Jess’s on the coffee table. “Right. It’s late. We can talk more later.”

Jess walked to the door and opened it. Oh, I think we’ve said enough on the subject. “Wait.” She stopped Andy as he crossed the threshold. “About homecoming? I’m afraid you’d probably better count me out. I don’t think I’d be very good company, now that I think about it.”

He just looked at her for a long moment before he nodded. “Right.”

Turning away, he crossed her porch and broke into a slow run as he moved down her walk. Jess closed the door before he reached the street.

Leaning against the door, Jess took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. How dare Andy challenge her like that? She didn’t just arbitrarily snatch people off the street and start rearranging their lives. Gabe was a special kid. He had so much going for him, and if she could help him reach some goals, what was wrong with that? She was supposed to feel bad because she was encouraging Gabe to use his brain instead of getting it beat out—Andy’s own words—on the football field? Not hardly!

Blowing out a long breath, Jess crossed the room and picked up the mugs to carry to the kitchen. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried so hard to calm down, because now that she wasn’t quite so mad, Andy’s question floated in her mind demanding an answer: What difference, really, would three weeks make in the grand scheme of things?