CHAPTER TWELVE
It was four a.m. when the boards squeaked on the front porch, followed by a petite figure opening and closing the door. The figure remained silent for several minutes, staring over at me. Then, she tiptoed to the side of my bed. I was awake because I’d never gone to sleep. Audrey’s light footsteps betrayed her, as did her breathing, the angle of her shoulder, the lines of her cheek, and the pale reflection shining from underneath her sweatshirt hood.
I broke the long silence. “Hey.”
My voice had not startled her. She stood over me. Breathing down. Hands in her pockets. “Dee needs your help.”
I sat up. The only light in the room came from a streetlight.
“Sounds like he’s got pretty good help.”
“I’ve done all I can. He needs you.”
“Honey, I can’t help that kid.”
She paused. Her tone changed. More venomous. “I’m not your honey.”
I let it go. I lifted my ankle. Even in the dark, the protrusion of the anklet was visible. “Even if I wanted—”
She crossed her arms. “Sure you can.”
“You do it.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
She slowed her speech. “I don’t know how. His throwing motion is a mess, and it starts in his head.”
“Based on what little I’ve seen, you’re correct.”
“So you’ve seen him?”
The surreal nature of this discussion struck me. “Audrey, after twelve years in prison, there are a few other things I’d like us to talk about before we take up the case of Dalton Rogers.”
“Answer my question.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him. Ray and I watched him from top of the Bucket.”
“So you’ll help him?”
“If I get anywhere near that kid, they’ll put me back in prison for the rest of my life.”
“Nobody will ever know.”
“So you want me to lie?”
“You’re pretty good at it.”
“Aud—”
“I want you to help Dee’s dreams come true.”
“What about mine?”
She stepped back, distancing herself from me. “Yours are dead. His don’t have to be. He’s got a legitimate shot.”
“I cannot do this. I won’t. I’m not going back in there.”
She stepped closer. Leaning down over me. Inches from my face. “I don’t know what you thought would happen when you got out. That you’d waltz back into my life and we’d settle down? Pick up where we left off?” She held up her ringless left hand. “Your life with me is over. Finished. We’re done. Has been since the trial. Since the draft.”
“Audrey—I’m here for you. Not Dalton. Not anyone else.”
She cut me off. “You can’t have me.”
“Then why should I help you?”
“He was four when I met him. His mother dropped him off and never looked back.” She turned, quartering away. “He’s the son you never gave me.” She turned back. Facing me. Eyes narrowed. “Matthew, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. You owe me.”
“Even though spending one second with that kid of my own volition will land me back in prison?”
“Even though.”
“Why’d you never divorce me?”
“Doesn’t really matter.”
“I spent twelve years lying on my back, rotting, waiting for anything. A phone call. Letter. Visit. Divorce papers. I wondered every time the mail cart squeaked down the ward if today would be the day. But that day never came. So yeah, it matters. Why didn’t you ever contact me?” My voice rose. “Nothing. No contact for twelve years. I saw the videos. I get it. Even I would’ve thought it was me. But no matter what you think of me, I deserve more than your backside walking away.”
She chuckled and almost said something but snuffed it at the last minute.
The silence moved in. Neither spoke. She began to mumble under her breath, carrying on a conversation with herself, and both sides were angry. Slowly, she reached up and pointed. “You want redemption?”
“Yes.”
She said it again. Slower. “Do you want redemption?”
“Yes.”
She walked to the door, opened it, and stood, her back to me. “Help Dee.” She took a step, then stopped. “We’re done. Have been. But maybe by helping him, you can salvage something of what remains of your pathetic excuse for a life. And in the process, maybe he can become what you never were.” She looked over her shoulder. “You owe me that. And… you owe you that.”
I stood, speaking softly, “Will he listen to me?”
She had not expected the sight of me in the moonlight. My body in boxers. My scars evident. Her eyes quickly fell to them, then her resolve returned and the steel rod reinserted itself into her spine. “He’ll do everything you tell him.” She paused. “And more.”
I stopped her. “One condition.”
She waited.
“You’re present at every workout. You don’t show… I don’t coach.”
A question surfaced on the tip of her tongue. Something she’d wanted to ask. Her eyes quickly glanced at my scars, then back at me. “You were…” Her voice faded. “Stabbed?”
“Twice.”
A pause. Another glance. “Were you scared?”
“I don’t really remember. It happened pretty fast.”
“Did you suffer?”
“Not as much as being there.”
She stood several seconds, finally speaking. “Matthew—” Her eyes were cold and tired and the window to her soul was closing. “They gave you twelve years. That’s all.” She shook her head. “I got life without parole.”
Turning away, hiding her face, she stepped through the door and pulled it closed.
I stood in the shadows and peered around the bleachers. He walked onto the field at daylight. Audrey stood alongside. I knew I’d better make this quick, so I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head and jogged onto the field. He saw me coming and met me on the twenty yard line. Before he said a word, I started. “We work out twice a day. Six and six. You’ve got eight weeks until the season starts, and we’ve got a lot of work to do.” He nodded and smiled. “But before you get giddy, a couple of rules.”
He stopped tossing the ball in the air.
“You do what I say, when I say it, every time I say it, as soon as I say it. Got it?”
He nodded.
“You give me any flack, argue with me, or offer me some lame excuse and—” I pointed at the trail leading back through the trees to the junkyard. “I’m gone. And ‘please give me another chance’ won’t bring me back.” I pointed at the ground on which we stood. “This is your chance right here.”
He nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“And stop this ‘yes, sir’ crap. I’m old enough to be your dad, but you don’t have to rub it in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Whatever that is, that ability to respond quickly and do exactly the thing I’d just told him not to do—but do it with jest and a fun amount of playful disrespect—great quarterbacks need that. And he had it in spades. It’s a built-in level of self-assuredness and self-confidence that you can’t coach. They also need to be able to roll with the punches. Coach Ray once said the same is true with all the great racehorses—it’s either there or it’s not. The trainers’ job is to take a fast horse with all the tools and make him faster. And every now and then you find a horse that has all the tools, and all the possibilities, and then you add some honest self-confidence bubbling just beneath the surface, and, well—I liked this kid from that moment. I turned to Audrey. “Can I ask a favor of you?”
Her lips moved but there was no emotion in it. “You can ask.”
“You mind running by the Army-Navy?”
She shook her head. “I don’t mind.”
She nodded.
I turned back to Dee and lifted my sweat pants, exposing my ankle. “I need your word that you’ll never tell anyone, not a soul, that we’re doing this. You do and they’ll put me back in prison. I’d like to avoid that.”
“You have my word.”
Audrey stepped up alongside. “He won’t. I’ll see to that.”
I stepped closer to him. Inches from his face. I pointed at Audrey. “Just so we’re clear, I’m here for her. Not you. She’s your ticket. I don’t care how much you beg me, if she’s not here, you’re on your own.”
“But that’s outside of my control.”
I turned and started walking away. “Life’s like that. Better get used to it.”
He tossed the ball and hit me square in the back. “I’ve got a question for you.”
I stopped but didn’t turn. I was starting to like this kid even more.
“How do I know you’re still any good? How do I know you can help me?”
The sun was just breaking the tree line. Standing on the twenty, I picked up the ball, dropped two steps, and launched the ball toward the far end zone. While Dee watched the ball spiral through the air, I whispered to Audrey, “Just because they let you out, doesn’t make you free.” The ball split the uprights midway up, some ninety-two yards away. Dee’s eyes grew to the size of Oreos. I shoved my hands in my pockets and began walking away. “And we can’t work out here. I’m not allowed to step foot on this grass.” I pointed at the junkyard. “Don’t be late.”
In all this time, Audrey’s eyes never watched the ball. Her eyes never left me.