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At the final club practice, before they flew to South Africa for their next game, Connor had to help Mitch get up off his back. It had been a tough hit, mainly because Mitch hadn’t seen it coming.
“You all right?” Connor asked. “Jamie was moving forward. Blocked your view a bit. You got that full on.”
“That’s who it was? He was out of position,” Mitch said, hands on his hips, breathing hard. He walked and stretched his back gingerly.
“I know. He moved a little too early. I think Mano made him nervous.”
Mitch stared at Connor. They turned simultaneously to look at the large prop-forward who was making his displeasure known to Jamie, the newest member of their team.
“What the hell was that? You can’t leave Mitch Molloy vulnerable. Use your head, man!” Mano placed his face inches from the younger man’s, his voice low but still audible on the now silent field. “We move as a unit. Don’t be the player who allowed Mitch Molloy to get hurt in a World Championship year!” Jamie cringed at each poke in his chest.
Connor grinned at Mitch. “Well, there is some truth in that. No one wants to be that fella.”
At thirty-three, Mitch was grateful his body had managed to hold up all these years. He watched what he ate, worked with top professionals, and always rested after each game. Too many players, more talented than he, have been forced out of the sport because of things beyond their control. He was one of the lucky ones. Now that he was approaching the end of his career, he wanted to go out playing his best. He wanted to be the difference in each game.
After practice was over, Mitch walked with Connor to the car park.
“Do you have plans for tonight? Cat is trying out a new recipe, and you know what she’s like with new recipes. There’ll be lots of food,” Connor said.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m due at Mum and Dad’s. Cat practicing for our dinner next week?”
Connor nodded. “Yes. She’s really nervous. She wants it to be perfect.”
“She always does.”
“More than usual. I made the mistake of telling her it’s not as if Liana Murphy was royalty. Then she remembered Liana used to date an earl, and now we have to have a cleaning crew come to the house the day before the dinner.”
Mitch frowned. “Liana used to date an earl?”
“Yes, the Earl of Kent.”
Connor and Mitch both turned at the sudden appearance of Blake Stanton. He was dressed in a purple shirt with a repetitive pelican motif. The muted color combination was a change from his usually brighter choices.
“Why do you know this?” Connor asked.
“I’ve had the biggest crush on her since I was a teenager,” Blake said, excitedly. “I follow her on Twitter and Facebook. I still can’t believe we danced at the Ball. She told me she remembered one of my tweets. Imagine that. A million followers and she remembered mine.”
Did Blake just sigh?
The sides of Connor’s mouth twitched, but he maintained his composure. “Well, since you are such a big fan, why don’t you join us for dinner next week? Liana is our guest of honor.”
“Really? That would be amazing. Thank you!” Blake flashed his perfect teeth as he moved toward Connor with outstretched arms.
Connor took a step behind Mitch. “No, it’s all right, mate. I know you love me. We save the hugs for tries, right?”
“What can I bring? I make great choc chip cookies,” Blake said.
“I’ll let you know. My wife is still deciding on the menu. We’ve already invited Mano. Then it’ll be Mitch... and Elaine,” Connor said.
“I thought you and Elaine broke up?” Blake asked, looking at Mitch.
“We did.” Mitch stared at Connor. “Didn’t she say she’d be overseas for a couple more weeks?”
Connor shrugged. “She must have finished early. She phoned Cat yesterday to ask if she could still come. I guess she’s also a Liana Murphy fan.”
“Who isn’t?” Blake asked.
A loud voice came from across the car park. “Stanton! Hurry up, mate.” Mano waved frantically at his roommate.
Blake returned the wave. “Right, I better go. Thanks, Connor. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see Liana Murphy again. You made my day.”
The two friends watched Blake run to the dark-blue sports Ute.
“He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” Mitch said.
Connor nodded. “But bloody talented.”
“And he seems quite taken with Liana.”
“Maybe he’s not the only one...”
Mitch caught Connor’s smile out of the corner of his eye. “Pardon?”
“Mate, I can read your body language better than anyone else, and I thought your brain had melted when you shook hands with Liana.”
“Pardon?”
Connor threw his head back, laughing, then slapped Mitch on his back. “Oh, don’t worry. Everyone else was looking at her. And you covered it well. But there was a moment when you looked—let me think of the right word—gobsmacked. Yeah, gobsmacked! Like you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”
“Go home, Connor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Connor’s laughter followed Mitch into his car.
* * *
Once a month, Mitch turned his car in the opposite direction of his usual route and headed toward his childhood home. As the skyline of Christchurch disappeared behind him, the hills of the countryside opened up. Its meandering lanes were nearly empty in the evening. Most of those who lived here would be home by now.
He knew every inch of these roads, having ridden his bike all over when he was younger. While nostalgic at times for his youth, this wasn’t his home anymore. Only the youngest Molloy—Timothy—seemed likely to stay, his love for the land so much like their father’s, who was the third generation to live on the farm.
When he reached Molloy Farm, Mitch found his mother, Helen, in the kitchen preparing dinner. He kissed her cheek before pinching a potato off the plate she was dressing.
“All right, Mum?”
“Yes. And you? Practice go well, today? Ready for Durban?”
“Yeah, we leave tomorrow. I’ll send a message when I arrive.”
“Ta, darl.”
“Hiya Mitch! Could you bring the plates over?” His twin sister had popped her head through the small doorway that led to their dining room.
“Where’s Timothy? Dad?”
“They’re having a chat with a contractor,” said Helen as she wiped the cutting board. “You know your dad. He wants a second opinion to make sure there was no damage to this part of the house from the last aftershock. Your father has walked around the house enough times this week to drive me crazy, so having this professionally passed will give everyone some peace.”
Mitch reached for plates from a nearby shelf and walked to the adjacent room. He’d suggested opening up the kitchen a few years ago to combine the two rooms. He even offered to pay for a complete refurbishment of the house, but his mother only shook her head, asking, “Why bother when everything works?”
Felicity smiled when he joined her. He instinctively scanned across the faux wood paneling which served as a backdrop to a collection of photos of the Molloy Farm, the oldest of which was taken over a century ago. Everything was in place as it should be.
“How you’ve been?” Felicity asked. Like him, she was tall with brown hair and eyes but with a gentler, more elegant profile.
“Uneventful, thankfully. Where’s Rick?”
“In Auckland, attending a symposium on bacteria.”
“Thrilling stuff.”
“To him, it is.”
They returned to the kitchen just as the back door shut, signaling the arrival of the final members of the family.
“Son,” his dad said, nodding. Stoutly built, Paul Molloy still commanded a room when he entered. Even in his sixties, he continued to wake up at the crack of dawn, ready to do a day’s work, come rain or shine. Church, family, and work. That pretty much summed up his father.
Stopping only to kiss his wife, Paul headed to the kitchen sink. Without looking up, he asked Mitch, “You well? Practice go all right?”
“Yeah. The young boys were ready to hit it hard today.”
“When do you leave for the National Team camp? Is young Stanton going to be called up? He was posting some good numbers in the last few games.”
Mitch shrugged, taking the can of beer his father offered. “You never know with Barnsey or the rest of management. But Stanton is making a case for himself. Let’s say I wouldn’t be surprised if there were four of us from the club being called up to Auckland. We’re due at New Harbor in mid-July.”
Once everyone was seated at the table, they began their monthly family dinner with updates. Mitch always enjoyed seeing his father, a quiet man, try to pull out information from the youngest in the family. Timothy, however, preferred to keep his responses as brief as possible.
“What are you reading these days, Timothy?” Paul asked.
“Nothing interesting.”
“How’s the research going?”
“Good.”
Felicity and Mitch exchanged a glance. Nothing new there.
Mum was primarily interested in Timothy’s social life, but that was an even shorter report.
“Aww, Mum,” Timothy said, cutting into his chicken with a little more ferocity than warranted. “I’m fine. I’ve got my mates. We’re keeping busy. It’s all good.”
Helen sighed. “All right. Felicity? Any more thoughts about the wedding?”
Felicity rolled her eyes. “As soon as Rick and I decide, I promise—I PROMISE—I’ll let you know.”
“It’s just that these things could take a long time to plan, especially if you want a good place for the reception.”
“Those things don’t worry us, Mum,” Felicity said. “You know we’ll keep it really small. Besides, all I have to do is drop Mitch’s name, and things miraculously open up.”
“Felicity!”
“I’m joking! But I’ve been dying to ask if Mitch met Liana Murphy at the End of Winter Ball. I bet you did. What’s she like?”
Mitch stared at his sister. “When did you become such a fan of Liana Murphy’s?”
“Seriously? I have all of her books.”
“Books?”
Felicity dropped her fork and knife on her plate and leaned back in her chair, arms folded. “I know you’re smart. It still pisses...”
“Language, Felicity.”
“Sorry, Mum. It still annoys me that you got better marks in school than I did. And while you do not have the inflated ego that most people in your position could have—Mr. ‘King of Rugby’—sometimes... sometimes I don’t think you pay enough attention to other people.”
“Oh boy, here we go,” Timothy muttered as he reached for another serving of potatoes.
Felicity continued. “Liana Murphy just so happens to have written three amazing books on building self-confidence and believing in empowerment. They were best sellers in the U.K., Australia, and here. You might even enjoy them.”
“I don’t think Mitch has any problems with confidence or self-empowerment,” Timothy said, drily.
“Thanks, mate.” Mitch smiled at his brother. “But, to answer your original question, dear sister, yes, I did meet Liana Murphy last week.”
Felicity beamed. “Lucky you. For the first time, I’m really jealous of a celebrity you’ve met. What’s she like?”
Mitch frowned slightly. “Ah, she’s very nice, I guess. We didn’t talk very long at the ball, actually.”
Felicity sighed. “I’d love to meet her. She’s breaking new ground for women. And I couldn’t have been prouder to be a Kiwi than when I heard FANZ hired her. A woman manager for our men’s football team. Imagine that!”
“A team that’s rankedone-hundred-and-fiftieth in the world,” Timothy said. “She got the job because no one else would have it.”
Felicity stared at Timothy. “You’re in fine form, tonight. What’s wrong with you?”
Mitch laughed as Helen looked down at her plate, barely hiding a smile.
“Regardless,” Felicity continued, picking up her utensils again. “She is changing the world by doing that. We’re witnessing history.”
Mitch wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Pardon?”
“She’s staying at the Meriton right now.”
His usually unflappable sister stared at him blankly. “At the Meriton? As in, your condo at the Meriton?”
“Yes.”
“How on Earth did that happen?”
“We have a mutual friend. She needed a new place to stay. I have an empty room. I offered it to her.”
“Just like that?” Felicity asked. Timothy chose that moment to nudge her. She glared at him briefly before passing the rolls he was pointing at. She looked at Mitch again. “You have Liana Murphy staying at your condo? Wow.”
“She’ll be on the South Island next week. If you’d like to meet her, I can ask if she has some free time.”
Felicity blinked again, her eyes vacant. “Liana Murphy’s staying in the condo I used to live in. In the room I had? Wow.”
“What’s the big deal about Liana Murphy?” Timothy mumbled. “I mean she hasn’t really done anything.”
“Hasn’t really done anything?” Felicity turned to face Timothy, incredulity in her voice. “She has done a lot for someone in her thirties. Besides what she’s achieved in sports, she founded two charities, has an OBE—"
“—won a dance show, and dated a minor royal and a movie star,” Timothy said with a snicker.
“That is irrelevant to who she is,” Felicity snapped.
“That’s what keeps her in the news, isn’t it?” Timothy argued. “She’s famous because of who she knows.”
“That’s pretty shallow,” Felicity said.
“Well, would you like to meet her?” Mitch asked again. He passed the chicken to his father.
Felicity chewed on her bottom lip. “I guess. But what would I say?”
“Try ‘hello.’”
Felicity punched her younger brother again. Timothy responded by drawing his butter knife at his sister.
Mitch shook his head at the sight of an eminent scholar of women’s studies engaging their younger brother—one of the university’s top students—in a cutlery duel.
“That’s very nice of you to offer your place, Mitch,” his mum said. “Will she be staying at the Meriton long?”
“Not sure. I said she’s welcome to stay as long as she needs to. I have the spare room.”
“Jay won’t mind?”
Mitch shrugged. “If she still needs it when we have to be in Auckland, I’ll check with him then. But I don’t think he’ll be bothered. We’ve always had a third person in the condo with us.”
“You know, she’s probably one of the few people in the world who understands what you go through as captain,” Felicity said as she grabbed a roll off Timothy’s plate.
Mitch’s knife hovered over his plate. He hadn’t considered that. It’d been a long time since he wondered if anyone—other than the previous captains—could sympathize with what came with his position. He grew up obsessed with rugby, but even he was unprepared for the scrutiny, the pressure, or the expectations that came with the captaincy.
* * *
Immediately after reaching home, Mitch walked out onto the deck in his backyard. It was a habit he’d started soon after buying the house. It was another clear night. The stars seemed especially large and bright. It was worth the extra twenty-minute commute to the Club so he could enjoy nights like these.
When he was first starting out, all the new players shared flats and houses close to the city center where there were a lot more things going on. But when he was finally able—and ready—to buy a place of his own, Mitch wanted something farther out.
The neighborhood he had chosen was one in transition. Most folks had been there for decades, but young families were beginning to move in, no doubt seeing the advantages of the location and the good schools. It was perfect for him, midway between the Club and his parents’ farm. Then, whenever he needed to take a break from real life, he could get to the Waimakariri River in about twenty minutes. Mother Nature was the perfect solution for working out the stress of his job.
A dog barked in the distance, the lone sound echoing softly through the quiet neighborhood.
It was getting late. He had an interview with the local station before joining the team at the airport. He liked to prepare by reviewing the questions the station had sent in advance. Mitch had glanced through them. They were typical questions about the players’ preparations for the weekend game. New, were also a few about the World Championship. He knew from experience that the number of questions in the last set was going to increase as the countdown to the Championship began.
He sat on the stairs and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He found the number he had stared at all week.
She hadn’t called once.
She did send him a short message when she moved in, but that was the extent of her contact.
He was both disappointed and relieved.
At different times this week—when his mind wandered—, he kept remembering how soft her cheek had felt against his lips, and how her eyes lighted up when she laughed. He had been tempted to call, but there was no real reason to do so. He wouldn’t have if it were anyone else staying at the condo.
But a moment of impulse at dinner had given him an excuse to call her. He was merely asking a favor for his sister.
“Liana? It’s Mitch Molloy.”
“Hello. I promise. I haven’t touched a single sock.”
Mitch laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, thank you. You have an amazing condo, Mitch. The location is perfect.” Her soft voice prompted the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. He cleared his throat. “Any word on your rental?”
“Not good news, I’m afraid. I’m back on the hunt for a place.”
“Well, don’t feel you have to move out in a hurry. No one is expected at the Meriton for another month.”
“Very kind, Mitch. If I do stay on—and I don’t want to impose—let me pay some sort of rent.”
“Not at all. You’re my guest. But I do have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything.”
“I just found out that my sister is a big fan of yours. Would you have a few minutes to meet her when you come down to the South Island?”
“Of course. I arrive late Friday morning and don’t have anything planned until Connor and Cat’s dinner.”
“I have practice until noon. But after that, maybe Felicity and I can meet you for a cup of tea or coffee in the afternoon. If you like, we can drive together to Connor’s place. It can be a bit confusing to get there.” He put his head in his hand. That sounded awkward even to his ears.
“Hang on—I thought I was doing you a favor? I’ll take that offer for a lift but let me take you and your sister out for tea.”
“That’ll work,” Mitch said.
“Lovely.”
“My sister is going to be thrilled. Thanks. We’ll see you next Friday.”
Mitch held on to his phone for a few moments after the conversation ended. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. What was he doing? He’d just ended a relationship so he could concentrate on captaining the National Team. He didn’t want to experience the feeling of failure again. He especially didn’t want to see the sadness in the eyes of strangers. His country deserved something positive after an earthquake that had taken so much from Christchurch.
But there was no denying he was intrigued by Liana. He could have kissed her at the condo. He knew it; she knew it. But they didn’t. She stopped it, and he didn’t push. There were invisible lines neither chose to cross.
There was just something about her that captivated him.
His raised his eyes to the sky. It was cloudless tonight, and a sea of scattered stars teased him with secret patterns he knew he would never fully identify.
