Chapter Thirteen

At halftime I leaned against the chain-link fence at the end of the field, nibbling a hot dog. I could have taken my second dinner back into the stands, but my frazzled nerves needed a break, and I chewed slowly to prolong the peaceful lull I found away from the crowd.

Junior high girls walked the track in front of me, little boys played tag behind me, and old men leaned on the fence ten yards down, undoubtedly hashing and rehashing the first two quarters of the game. But I felt removed from them all. Even as the Panther band marched across the field, their brassy tones seemed muted and distant.

I put the last bite in my mouth and chuckled. Only a few days ago, I missed my sorority lifestyle, but now I found myself hiding in the end zone, in plain sight, mind you, yet separated from all the excitement. I began to wonder if I should go back to the stands with Ansel and Velma or hide awhile longer or slip to the parking lot and go home.

“Hey, babe. You shouldn’t be down here all by your lonesome.”

I jerked slightly as Tyler leaned against the metal railing next to me.

“Sorry if I scared you. I got here late and noticed you standing over here. Everything all right?”

Define all right. “I was eating. I’m hungry all the time.” My stomach grazed the chain-link fencing, reminding me of my distorted figure.

“No big deal. You’re pregnant.” His voice, encouraging and kind, renewed my self-esteem, and I straightened slightly.

I bumped his shoulder with my own. “Someone from Snyder is bound to find out you showed up to support the Trapp Panthers.”

He smiled as though he’d been caught in a petty crime. “I’m not sure anyone in Snyder cares. Or to be more accurate, I’m not sure I care if they care.”

“Good for you.” My fingers almost curved into Ruthie’s Who cares? symbol, but I stopped myself. Even with Tyler in a generous mood, he would never appreciate cheesy humor.

As the two teams huddled outside the field house, we leaned with our elbows on the fence, side by side, not looking at each other. Tyler had lost the cocky desperation of the Laundromat and now seemed more like himself. Relaxed. But he had always been more appealing with no one else around.

The Panthers ran past us with their cleats slapping the pavement as they chanted a threat to intimidate the opposing team. They needn’t have bothered. The write-up in the county newspaper left every team in the district quaking.

The coaches half walked, half jogged with the boys, and as they passed by, JohnScott looked at me. I smiled and lifted my hand to wave, but he kept running and showed no sign of recognition. Probably he hadn’t seen me.

“You look tired, Fawn.” The fence clinked as Tyler shifted his weight. He had been watching me, and I didn’t notice.

“The baby wakes me up at night.” My hand fell to my abdomen. “But once I’m awake, I start tossing and turning, and he gets still again.”

Tyler’s eyes softened. “Sounds like he wants you to rock him back to sleep.”

I laughed softly, feeling his familiarity settle over me. This was the Tyler I used to know. Who cried at his mother’s bedside when she got sick and showed so much tenderness, I hadn’t wanted to hold back any part of myself.

I missed that Tyler.

“He’s awake right now. Do you want to feel?”

“I’d like that.” He turned toward me and hesitated, so I took his hand between my own and pressed his palm against the firmness of my side, where I had last felt the baby’s movements.

Tyler’s other hand found its way to the small of my back, and we stood motionless for several seconds, him staring into space as he concentrated on what he felt, and me watching him closely so I wouldn’t miss any sign of acceptance that might flitter across his face.

Suddenly the baby kicked hard against his daddy’s hand, and Tyler smiled. “He’s got my attitude.” He laughed out loud, and his fingers rubbed my back, above the waistline of my jeans. But then his smiled eased, and his hands dropped to his sides. “I’m sorry about everything, Fawn.”

I gripped the metal pipe running along the top of the fence, ignoring the junior high girls who were ogling us. Tyler had said those words to me on the street in front of the diner, but now he actually meant them. I could see his regret and feel his pain, and I had the overwhelming urge to comfort him. Neither of us had asked for this new life. Neither of us knew what to make of it.

A touchdown took our attention back to the game, and we peered over the fence at the players knocking against each other in celebration. As they lined up for the extra point, my gaze drifted to the sideline. The cheerleaders had quieted for the kick, and Coach Pickett stood as rigidly as ever, arms crossed. But just as the ball sailed through the upright posts, I thought he turned his head to look toward the fence. At me.

I did a double take, but he had already started yelling directions to an assistant coach.

“I was serious about taking you to your doctor’s appointment.” Tyler’s shoulder brushed mine. “It would mean a lot to me.”

I pictured my doctor’s office and the other pregnant women with men by their sides—holding hands, fetching cups of water, giving support—and a missing link in the chain of my confidence snapped into place. “It would mean a lot to me, too.”

Tyler released a long, slow breath. “I’d like to spend time with you away from the doctor’s office too. I miss you.”

His words didn’t affect me as much as his body language. His posture cried out in desperation, and his eyes begged me not to abandon him. He looked exactly this way at his mother’s funeral back in junior high, and more recently, at his father’s. My parents weren’t dead, but they had all but abandoned me, and Tyler’s expression of helplessness instilled in me a sense of unity.

“I miss you, too.” My resolve melted. I knew what I could expect from him, and even though it didn’t compare with the perfect life laid out in front of Ruthie, it might be close enough to perfect. At least my baby would have a father.

Tyler’s sad eyes turned up at the corners, but not enough to transform into happiness. “Why do we do this to each other?”

As the band played a drum roll for the kickoff, he gently slipped his arm around my back. “Old habits, I guess.”

“Fawn?” His voice broke. “I promise I won’t hurt you again.”

I’d heard that before, but this time it sounded different. Either he meant it more or I wanted more desperately for it to be true. The baby kicked again, seeming to remind me, as though I could ever forget.

My mind and body were weary from months of anxiety, but Tyler’s gentle promise felt good against my soul, ringing with the clear tone of good intentions.

I believed him.

But I had to draw the line in the sand. “This is the last time. If you get drunk again, if you make a scene, if you hurt me … it’s over for good.”

“That won’t happen.” When he kissed the top of my head, the junior high girls giggled, but I didn’t pay any attention. Who cares? I smiled, enjoying the familiar scent of his cologne, the secure feel of his muscular arm behind me, and the soft whisper of his breath against my hair.

I could have stood like that at the fence all night, but after a few minutes, he pulled away and intertwined his fingers with mine.

Just then, the opposing team’s fans cheered enthusiastically, drawing my attention back to the game as I wondered what could have happened so soon after our last touchdown.

I scanned the field, and my mouth fell open.

They had scored against us.

The wire of the fence pressed my skin as I gripped it with my fingers. Since the Panthers were slated for state, the area papers had speculated we might go all year without being scored on. Yet here we were—our first game of the season—giving up six points already.

The other team’s band, cheerleaders, and fans—good grief, their entire team—went berserk. The noise level rose obnoxiously while our fans watched in stunned silence. As the ball sailed through the goalposts for the extra point, every face in the stadium—whether from glee or from mourning—studied the opposite end zone.

My heart hurt for our team, but I had the most compassion for JohnScott, who would undoubtedly be criticized by half the town. And they wouldn’t be kind about it. I scanned the sideline until I located him, but then a chill raced down my spine.

He stood with his feet planted shoulder width apart, fists on his hips, but instead of being turned toward the other end of the field, he looked straight at Tyler and me.

He jerked his head away quickly, and I told myself it probably hadn’t been what it seemed.

But when he glanced back a second time, I knew it wasn’t my imagination.