I returned to find Mom clearing up the mess left behind by the crowd that had now gathered on the soccer field, the sound of the marching band ending in a crescendo that was followed by a giant roar of approval. I handed over the cash box without commenting on where I’d found it or what I’d heard, instead helping myself to a pair of disposable gloves from the box on one of the remaining tables before selecting a trash bag and joining the thin group of volunteers helping with cleanup. I assisted as best I could in fetching discarded paper plates, napkins and glasses from the bleachers. No, I didn’t bend over, instead reaching up to the next level from the one where I stood to empty the litter into the bag she provided me. Petunia stayed close, snuffling the occasional discarded bit of trash but making no attempt to leave my side. I caught her with a muffin wrapper, however, and had to grunt my way low enough to take it from her before she could eat it.
Whatever it took, this dog would be healthy.
I carried my now-full bag down to floor level, Petunia dragging her heels, clearly tired. So was I, and my time as a willing participant in this whole event was rapidly coming to a close. I hefted the bag into the hallway, making it to the exit and the dumpster outside, a mighty heave sending it over the top and into the bin.
“This used to be easier,” I sighed to my pug, turning to head back inside and tell Mom I was done. Instead, I paused in the thin shadow cast by the big, blue garbage container as Donald and Amanda Courtney appeared just inside the doors. He’d caught her arm, jerked her to a halt, his head down over hers. What were they doing in here? He had a game to coach and likely a speech to give. Instead, he was giving his wife a hard time, though she was handing it back to him. I wished they’d speak up, their hissing at one another very unsatisfying until she finally jerked her arm from his hand and backed up a step.
“I should never have followed you here,” she said, voice throbbing with fury. “I’ve hated every second of it and now that I know who you really are, Donald, I hate you, too.” Amanda spun and stalked off, heading for the soccer field. The principal/coach of Reading High snarled something under his breath before going after her, both of them missing me and my little pug girl tucked into the dark corner as they went by.
“You know what, Petunia?” She looked up at me in eager anticipation, yawning again. “I don’t really care what’s going on.” My feet hurt, my back hurt and I was tired all over again. “Let’s tell Mom we’re leaving and go home, okay?”
The puppy did a spinning circle, her energy returned somewhat. Considering I’d been carrying her most of the time, she’d had ample rest, the monkey. I headed for the soccer field in the wake of the unhappy Courtneys, hoping to spot Mom at one of the smoking barbeque stations so I didn’t have to pursue her into the crowd.
I’d just cleared the parking lot and the line of cars forming a solid wall between the pavement and the grass when I heard voices and stopped. I know, I know, okay? I was done, but again I recognized one of the voices and couldn’t help myself when Nelson Delamonte spoke.
“You have my full support,” he was saying while I peeked around the SUV keeping him out of my line of sight and was surprised to find he’d cornered Bryson Courtney. The young quarterback looked stunned, almost upset, as Nelson went on, one hand falling on his shoulder. “I wanted you to know that.”
“You’re ruining everything.” Bryson pushed past my client and ran for the soccer field, leaving Nelson to stare after him with what looked like longing on his face. Where was Crew? Again, there was no sign of him or Daisy and I had to wonder about a client who kept slipping his tether to have private conversations with the residents of Reading.
Nelson strode off while I contemplated revealing myself, eliminating the need. I followed more slowly, taking note as I circled to the entry to the soccer field that Nelson seemed back to his charismatic and charming self, shaking hands as he went. I paused at the chain link fence while Donald Courtney stepped up onto the small platform in the middle of the field and raised his hands, bringing a microphone to his mouth as (reasonable) quiet settled for his speech.
“I can’t be prouder of my boys,” he said. “This team has earned every goal, every point, with heart, with soul and with the skills I’ve taught them.” Laughter rippled through the crowd while the players hooted at him. “Let’s show the rest of the country how football is played! Are you ready?” The screaming was even louder out here, if that was possible, and I had to bend and heft my puppy into my arms no matter how awkward the process was when she jumped up on my leg in clear distress. I caught my breath as I clutched at the fence while Donald finished his pep talk. “Go Pirates!”
The team jogged off, heading for the football field, cheer team keeping the crowd going while the marching band fired up and sent them off with a song that held more enthusiasm than musicality. I spotted Mom and waved at her, noting that Enid had stopped next to Donald and was saying something to him that made him hesitate before he shook his head at her and ran off after his players. Was that anger on her face? Whatever the case, she watched him go with irritation before heading back inside.
“There you are.” Mom caught my hand as she exited the soccer field, face alight, now dressed in a Reading Pirate’s jersey of her own. “Everything went off without a hitch, Fee!” She laughed, looking younger than I felt suddenly, and I smiled in return despite my exhaustion. “Your father is saving us seats.”
I debated, I admit it. I didn’t want to let her down and she looked so excited. And a seat meant I didn’t have to stand any longer and that was appealing. But the idea of lingering in the crowd, amid all those people and their noisiness, had my heart palpitating all over again.
“I should get Petunia home.” She blinked at me, then at Mom, sagging to one side, her weariness catching up with her again, too.
“Oh, poor dear.” Mom lifted the puppy into her arms, snuggling her a moment before handing her over. “Of course. You go home and put your feet up, sweetie.” Mom kissed my cheek, already turning toward the football field and the roar of people that rose. The team must have made their appearance.
“Have fun, Mom.” I waved as she hurried off, not feeling as guilty as I should have for using my puppy as an excuse. Mom was having fun and the last thing I wanted was for her to worry about me. It wasn’t until I turned to cross the parking lot, I realized my mistake. “I should have drove,” I grumbled to myself as I passed a big truck. “I guess we have to walk, sweet girl.”
“Fee?” I looked up, startled at the sound of my name, to find Bill Saunders just stepping down from the very vehicle we passed. I hadn’t seen him in a while, not since Petunia passed away. The White Valley Lodge maintenance man joined me, his giant black Newfoundland, Moose, whuffing as he thudded out of the driver’s side and landed on the pavement next to me. I immediately offered him the puppy to sniff, Petunia wriggling in renewed joy as the big dog gave her a solid snuffling and then a very wet lick.
“I heard you got a new girl,” Bill said, holding his hands out. I deposited the puppy in his oversized paws and smiled up at him as he nuzzled her, and she licked him in return. “Moose has been missing Ms. Petunia.”
“We all have,” I said. “Thanks again for the photos you dropped off.” While disparate in size and breed, my old darling and the massive Newf had been besties and Bill’s thoughtful gift shortly after her passing had brought me smiles and tears. “Our new Petunia is a great comfort.”
“She is,” he said, crouching to offer her to Moose. Again with the snuffles while she wriggled in pure ecstasy, nipping at his nose. The shaggy black dog took her greeting in his casual stride, as gentle with her as he had been with her predecessor.
“You’re missing the game,” I said at last, my happiness at seeing him and Moose turning to discomfort quickly as my body’s aches and pains returned to haunt me.
“I’ll catch up,” Bill said, standing. “I’m regretting missing your mom’s good cooking, though.” I sometimes thought about how Bill spoke of my mother, my suspicions he had a crush on her only ever reinforced by the reverent way he talked about her. Mom had asked me long ago not to embarrass him by bringing it up and I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. My affection for Bill and Moose carried great weight, considering they’d both played roles in saving me a time or two (yeah, two, okay, fine, let it go already). “You’re not walking?”
I hesitated, not because I didn’t trust him, but because he really was missing the game. “I am,” I said.
“Not on my watch.” He headed for the passenger’s door of his truck, helping me up and inside when the daunting task seemed impossible despite the running board and step. I was soon settled on the front bench with Moose sitting behind me in the crew cab, panting and drooling on my shoulder where he rested his chin to watch the puglet with adoring eyes. We were quickly on the road and heading for home before I could even offer a thank you.
“My pleasure,” Bill said. “You feeling okay?”
“I nodded. “Just over did it a little,” I said. “I forget sometimes I’m carrying an extra person around. Takes a toll.” I pointed at the Reading Pirates bobble head on his dash. “You’re a big fan?”
“I played when I was a kid,” he said. “Not much by way of skill, but I was big and could take a hit, so yeah. I love it.”
I smiled back at his nostalgic grin. “Everyone in town seems to.”
He laughed at that. “Tonight, they do,” Bill said, turning onto Main. “Most of the folks in them bleachers don’t know anything about football. But that’s not what tonight’s about.” He was right, and now I felt guilty for leaving. But Bill was rattling on, so I didn’t get to linger in it. “Sure am proud of Miranda’s boy, Shayle,” he said. “Me and his dad, Larry, played together. He was a good sort, sad he’s gone. He’d have been over the moon about Shayle.”
“Bill, do you know anything about Nelson Delamonte? Or what connection he might have to Donald and Amanda?” I was well aware I used a blunt object instead of a subtle question in this case, but my friend wasn’t much for subtlety, and I was honestly too tired to make an effort.
“Not much,” Bill said, pulling into my driveway and parking the truck. He made me stay put and hopped out to open my door, helping me down and offering one last pat for Petunia while Moose heaved himself over to the front seat and sniffed her goodbye. When I looked up at him, Bill was frowning, though when I inhaled to ask him what he was about to say, he shook his head and cupped my hand over his forearm, leading me to the house.
Maybe I was looking for trouble where there wasn’t any for me to worry about? Wouldn’t be the first time, and yet it also wouldn’t be out of the realm of the usual for me to be totally and utterly right. I sighed as my key slid in the lock and I turned back to wave goodbye to Bill and Moose, the bright headlights flashing in my eyes as they pulled away.
And caught the startled face of Robert Carlisle parked across the street. The moment he saw me looking, he started his car and drove off, weaving a bit as his tires let out a soft squeal of protest. I frowned at his rapid retreat, pretty sure now something was up and hating secrets so much in that moment I almost went after him.
Chose instead to go inside and rest my weary, pregnant body. Robert could wait.
And Nelson Delamonte could take care of himself.
***