Authors: Gail McFarland
“I don’t know if that’s a fair statement.”
“Well, I do, and I know why, too.” Rissa dropped heavily onto the bed and wrinkled her nose. She patted the comforter, inviting company. “You’re both control freaks, can’t let anybody else help you out. He’s always been like that, even when we were kids.”
Crossing her legs, she looked at Marlea. “Big kid picked on me, said he was gonna beat me up because I couldn’t keep a secret, and AJ made him eat dirt. I told him not to, but he said he had to because I was his little sister. Kid was bigger than him, too, but he never hesitated. Said it was ’cause he loved me.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Marlea eased herself to sit.
“Never said it was bad.” Rissa looped her folded hands over her knees. “AJ is just one of those people who have to know how things are going to turn out—have to find a way to control the outcome. Like with you. Okay, I’m talking too much again, but it’s true.” She lifted her chin and studied Marlea’s face. “He coulda let you go on your way, but that would have meant that your full recovery was out of his hands, and there’s no way my brother would ever let that happen.”
“It’s easy to see that you adore your brother, and that’s sweet.” Marlea sounded sad and a tiny bit jealous.
“I could give you a lot of other examples,” Rissa grinned.
“I’ll bet you could.”
“Oh, child. Could I ever.”
I could start by telling you about my brother and the women in and out of his life,
Rissa thought.
But I wonder how you’ll fit?
Marlea took a deep breath and looked away. Rissa rocked, fingers still locked around her knees.
Bianca Coltrane, bless her pointy little head, had never fit. The girl was so into material things that she made Madonna look like a nun. Glad she’s out of the picture
. Rissa rocked and sighed, and hoped it was true.
Bianca is like a poster girl for Murphy’s Law—if it could go wrong, she probably caused it.
And poor AJ
. When that witch sank her claws into him, it had taken every ounce of her brother’s formidable integrity to walk away from her. That had to be hard. If there was any truth to the rumors, Bianca was a fierce competitor when it came to men, and it was said that her sexual arsenal was downright awesome.
And I think he really loved her…he wouldn’t listen to me.
Rissa glanced at the woman sitting beside her. She was still staring intently at the print on the walls.
Maybe this is the right one,
Rissa sighed,
and maybe I’m going to have to help him figure it out
. Not that love was foreign to AJ; he just didn’t fall easily. He hadn’t brought home a lot of women, didn’t even do a lot of dating—especially not since he got the news about his contract.
“AJ hasn’t brought home a patient since Robert Crown,” Rissa murmured.
“Who’s Robert Crown?”
“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Rissa’s eyes slid low and she stood slowly. Crown was unexpected, too. A twenty-year-old UGA running back, he needed help recovering from a stroke. AJ did it
gratis
, said that working with the young man was an investment.” Moving across the room, Rissa picked up a pair of sweatpants and folded them over a hangar. Sneaking a glance at Marlea, she slipped the matching jacket onto the hanger. “Crown was an investment, but you’re different.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure yet. For now let’s go get some lunch. Maybe I’ll fill you in when I know.” Rissa closed the closet door and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“Thanks, I think.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Rissa smiled. “I only said
maybe
.”
* * *
“You know you can’t take me, Dench.”
Pointing a thick finger across the table, he shook his head. “You’re going to get enough of teasing me, Rissa.”
“Oh, yeah. Like you gon’ school me.” She threw back her shoulders, managing to look runway ready in spite of her jeans, tee shirt, and lack of makeup. She dug into the pocket of her jeans and came up with a bill. She placed it flat on the table, her hand beside it, and let her eyes drill Dench. “I’ve got a twenty here, and Ben Franklin says you can’t take me in eight ball.”
Dench checked his pockets and pulled out his own twenty. Eyes on Rissa, he held the bill to his ear, then pressed it to the tabletop. “Ben says he’s lonely and he always wanted a twin.” He stood. “Let’s do this.”
“Oh, we gon’ do it, all right.” Rissa stood and led the way from the room.
“This won’t take long,” Dench muttered, behind her back.
“I heard that,” Rissa shouted, heading down the stairs.
“Are they always like that?” Marlea asked when it was finally quiet again.
“Always. They’re in love and don’t even know it.” AJ leaned his elbows on the table and pushed his unused knife closer to his empty plate. “They think they’re friends, though I think Dench is starting to figure it out.”
“In love and not know it? That’s a funny notion. Where did you get an idea like that?”
“It happens, I’m told.”
“Hmm, I don’t see it. You’re either in love or you’re not.”
“Ever been in love?”
“No time for it. How about you?”
“Once. It didn’t work out, so I settled for being in love with football.”
Marlea’s eyes fell, and she seemed to reach a decision. “Dr. Reynolds said you were a football player, and I saw the pictures. Sorry to say, I didn’t remember your name before.”
“That’s okay…”
“
Nicest man in the
NFL
…” she grinned.
“Yeah, I really was an NFL player. Running back,” AJ told her. “That’s the big man who’s expected to get down the field and get the job done fast.”
“I thought that was the quarterback.”
“Glory boys,” AJ chuckled, liking the bright flash of her teeth when she smiled with him. “That’s what they would like for you to believe, but I’ve outrun many of ’em in my day.”
“So how did you come to football, if you were so fast?”
“How did you come to running?”
Her lower lip jutted out. “No fair; you can’t answer a question with a question.”
“Sure I can, if it’s the best possible answer.”
“Okay. Well, it was just the best thing for me. It was the thing I did to feel alive and like…it was like a blessing.” She shrugged when no more words came.
“I feel you. It was the same for me. Catching the ball, flying across the field, even running down someone on the other team…it was what I was born to do. The field was where I was most alive. The rest of it—school, hobbies, other kids, eating, sleeping—that was just stuff to do until it was time for the next game.”
“I feel you, too.” Marlea smiled wistfully. She reached for her cloth napkin and began twisting the ends. Suddenly aware of the nervous gesture, she let the napkin fall to the tabletop. “Josh, my brother, actually he was my cousin, but I didn’t find out about that until some wretched neighbor kids blabbed…but he used to run with me.”
“Family’s good that way,” AJ agreed, leaning toward her. “You said, ‘was’…”
“Long story.”
“I can wait.” He leaned back in his chair, prepared to do exactly that.
Marlea dropped her eyes to the dining table between them. “Well,” she sighed, “since you seem so determined to get into my business, and I am living in your home…Josh was…he was really my cousin, but I mostly grew up thinking he was my brother. His mom was really my aunt, but I thought she was my mother.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “Is this making any sense?”
She waited for his nod before continuing. “It’s not a long story, or a pretty one. My father was a musician, and he was a gambler. My mother was a beautician. They fell in love and made me, end of story. What about your family?”
“Come on, Marlea. How many times do I have to tell you to play fair? Finish the story.”
“My daddy was probably a better musician than he was a gambler, ’cause he was caught cheating. Cheating got his throat cut and sent my pregnant mom out looking for revenge. My mother was no Foxy Brown, and she was brutally beaten for her trouble. She died of her injuries ten days after I was born. That left me with her sister, my aunt Cyndra, who became the only mother I have ever known. She’s the only woman I’ve ever called
Mom
.”
“A little family, with a whole lot of love.”
“Yeah, until I lost them. Josh was killed in Iraq, a peacekeeping mission they called it. Mom died last year, I think of a broken heart. So…” she blinked back a tear, “I run…ran.” The tear rolled free and Marlea brushed at it with a slash of her hand.” What about your family?”
“Not much to speak of,” AJ said slowly.
“Oh, come on. I told you about Josh and my mother.”
“I love my mother, I’m crazy about my weird sister, and I wish I had found a way to love my father better.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair and drummed his fingers. “That’s the biggest regret of my life, that I didn’t get along better with my father when I had a chance to.”
“I suppose we all have something in our life that we regret.”
“Mine starts out kind of stupid. My name.” Her face hinted at the question she didn’t ask. He drummed his fingers harder. “My father was like most men—first born kid, a big, healthy son. It was his chance to ‘man-up,’ his chance for immortality. He insisted on naming me after himself. Tagged me a ‘junior.’ Antoine Jacob Yarborough Jr. It’s funny now, but as a kid, I felt robbed of an identity. I spent most of my life feeling like my father treated me and my name like leftovers.”
“All kids have identity crises,” Marlea offered.
AJ sucked hard air through his nose. “Maybe, but my dad made it clear that he wasn’t trying to entertain my psychological trauma. My old man worked construction. It was hard, honest work, and he figured that if it was good enough for him, then it was good enough for me. He wanted me to follow him. He was good at what he did and made good money. He figured that it was as good as it would get for a black man workin’ in the South.
“Don’t know if Rissa told you or not, but all those pictures in the library were taken by my mother. My pops thought that my running and football were just games. ‘What good does all that playing do a black man?’ he used to say. Even when I got the football scholarship, he thought it was useless. He said, ‘Break your back, break your legs, then what’ll you have? Nothin’, that’s what!’ ”
Marlea looked around, taking in the expansive kitchen and the view beyond the terrace and pool. “You could have done worse.”
“Yeah, I could have, but my dad wasn’t trying to hear it. He never supported my ballplaying, not even when I got drafted. That’s when I changed my name: twenty-one, with a pro contract, I changed my name legally and learned to keep some distance between my father and myself. I can still hear him sometimes: ‘You shamed a’ me, boy? Gave away my name like it was nothin’.’ ”
AJ shook his head and sniffed. Marlea watched his eyes for tears and saw none. “Guess you could say I gave away his name so I could be something, so I could be my own man. It had nothing to do with hurting him.
“My dad’s gone now, five years, and I still regret not having found a way to make some kind of peace with him. Still, I learned a lot from him: that a man needs work he can be proud of, to respect and take care of your family.” AJ pulled his arm from the back of the chair and straightened in his seat. “I learned something else, too. I’m resolved to be a better father, when the time comes. In the meantime, Rissa works with me, and I get to concentrate on her and our mother.”
“Will I get a chance to meet your mother?”
“Sooner or later. Mostly Moms is off being the merry widow, and she deserves the privilege. Not to play my dad cheap, but she was the one who bulldozed me through school, made me promise to get the degree even after I went pro, and stayed on me to be sure I kept the promise. She’s enjoying travel and freedom after a thirty-year marriage. This month, she’s in Puerto Rico.”
“She sounds like the reason for your drive and one of your reasons for pushing me.”
“Could be.” Relaxing again, AJ propped his elbows on the table and leaned close. “What is the one thing you wanted most in the world?”
Marlea lifted her glass and took a sip, her gaze steady over the rim. “That’s easy. A gold medal in the 400. How about you?” She set the glass down. “If I remember correctly, you earned a Heisman, then you played with the big boys, so…what? What else is there for you? Something like…a Super Bowl ring?”
“Well, yeah, but more than that,” he explained, his face taking on a boyish cast. “So far, fewer than ten men have rushed for more than 2,000 yards in a season—O.J. Simpson, Eric Dickerson, Barry Saunders, and Terrell Davis—I wanted to be one of them, but I guess I ran out of time. Knees couldn’t take it.”
“Hall of Fame,” she whispered reverently. “So what did you put in place of the game?
AJ thought about Bianca, and wished he could say that he had put his family, his wife and children in place of, and in fact ahead of, the game.
But hey, that wasn’t meant to be.
“I put my physical therapy practice in that place.”
“And right now, in your house, that means me?”
“Yeah,” he said, thinking about it for the first time. “I guess it does.”
Marlea carefully placed her hand flat on the tabletop. “Then that gives me some responsibility for how things turn out, right?”
“Huh?”
“If your practice, what you do with me, has to replace the most important thing in your life, then I guess we had better get it right.”
His voice softened when he looked at her, and he tried not to think of ripe and lurking possibilities. “Yeah, Marlea,” he agreed, his hand closing over hers. “We’d better get it right.”
Chapter 18
Rissa musta heard wrong. No way a woman who looks like this doesn’t date often.
AJ kept his eyes on his plate.
My sister can’t keep a secret, and she does have a tendency to talk too much sometimes, but she’s usually right in what she reports.
He looked at Marlea.
Wonder why?
Sitting across from AJ, Marlea tried to look comfortable. Kind of an effort, considering where they were going after lunch, but it was nice of him to offer to spend the time with her. Ray’s on the River was scenic and kind of romantic—lots of crisp white napery and a full view of the Chattahoochee River. The food was wonderful and the company was good, but she was a little nervous about the suit Rissa had talked her into.
Is this really an appropriate outfit for a visit to a podiatrist?
A podiatrist, no, that was wrong. AJ said that this guy was more than just a foot doctor.
The thought of a doctor made her skin crawl.
I don’t think I could take another doctor right now.
An icy sliver of betrayal stabbed her, and she reached for her wineglass. The quick swallow of Chablis didn’t do much for her, so she tried another.
He didn’t exactly spring the trip on me, but…
she caught her breath and let it out slowly across her wineglass.
This man is a pedorthist, not a podiatrist—and this is certainly not a trip I was looking forward to.
She sipped again, then set the glass aside, glancing at AJ.
I don’t want him thinking I’m a drunk on top of everything else.
Everything else. I don’t suppose I would ever really be ready, and now Rissa has me all dressed up…
She crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table, knowing that she would have been just as willing to have worn one of her Nike wind suits. A passing waiter filled her glass, and Marlea tried to keep her hands still. She didn’t know what to do with them; slipping them over her lap again would only betray her nervousness.
Like he doesn’t know already. Rissa probably told him that I don’t get out much, and he’s a nice enough man to spring for this mercy date.
Marlea cringed inwardly.
Humph! This is not a date, and I don’t need to forget that. This is just a good-looking man trying to be nice.
She forgot her resolve and fingered the lapel of her borrowed suit. Slate blue and faced with matching silk, the Dreen original hugged her curves and rested suggestively against her breasts and hips. Rissa said that the color brought out the red in her skin and made her eyes more exciting.
Like I need exciting eyes!
Stealing a glance at AJ, she was pleased to find his eyes on her.
At least, I look good—sitting.
Marlea pushed her feet further under the table and wished for something other than the clunky surgical shoe that encased her damaged foot.
Pushing her fork into the tender stuffed tilapia, she looked up, catching AJ’s eyes on her again. “Something?”
“No.” He pretended interest in his scalloped potatoes, then gave up and put his fork aside. “Yes.”
Steeling herself, Marlea forgot the fish. “What?”
“You’ve got something on your mind. No, don’t deny it. I figured it out after I spent five minutes talking to you, and you just sat there looking out the window.”
“Did I…AJ, I…”
Leaning close her, AJ planted his arms on the table. “I know that with everything that’s happened to you, time has to be skewed and your life has to feel crazy, but what we’re doing today, this is a good step. Have you given any thought to how this is going to affect your teaching?”
Trying not to look at the cane resting on the chair next to her, Marlea shook her head.
“What about your children?”
He’s seen the cards and letters from the Runyon School
. She remembered his walking in on her
. I don’t know what made me think that I wanted to watch that damned video in his theater. I could have just as easily watched it in my sitting room.
But the idea of seeing the faces she knew and loved so well on the big screen had been irresistible.
And he walked in on me.
One of the parents had helped the children to produce the video and he had caught her watching it.
They’ve sent me cards and letters, and I haven’t answered a single one.
“At the rate I’m going, I don’t know when I’ll get back to teaching.” Her lids fluttering, she swallowed hard. She tried to lighten her tone. “AJ, whether I walk or not has nothing to do with the children.”
“You’re lying to yourself, Marlea, and you don’t have to.”
The corners of her mouth quivered and she toyed with her fork. The fish was cold now. “So I don’t get a break, huh? You’re just going to sit there and judge me?”
Now she’s trying to pick a fight?
AJ shook his head.
I’m not going to let her take me there.
“Marlea, it’s not about judgment. You’ve come a long way, but you’re not alone. I’m here. I believe in you and your recovery, and I’ll be here for you.”
“And that’s supposed to get me back into the classroom?” She looked dubious. “I’m not afraid of the kids. I was born to teach, and I’ll always be good at it. Rissa said that you do a lot of work with special groups, so I know you understand how it feels to follow your heart for others. I’m a teacher. I’m going to teach again.”
“Glad to hear that. Now when do you plan to get back to the rest of your life?”
For a second, Marlea wanted to curse Rissa for the skillfully applied eye makeup. If she hadn’t been afraid it would run and leave her looking like a raccoon, she probably would have cried.
“It’s waiting for you, you know,” AJ continued. “Marlea, I promise that the only thing that has changed in your life is the way you choose to live it.”
“That’s an easy promise for you to make, AJ, but think about it. I can teach because a teacher is what I am. But on the other hand, you know what my foot looks like, and you’ve seen me try to get around on it—not exactly the picture of grace and elegance, am I? What man is going to want a woman like that? I’m not willing to plan a family without a husband, and I would need to be whole for that, and well, I’m not exactly that. Not any more.”
Reaching across the table, AJ took her hand and stared hard into her eyes. “And here I was thinking what a smart woman you are. Marlea, don’t you realize that if a man truly loves you, if you truly love him, it doesn’t matter how many toes you have or what kind of shoes you can or can’t wear? And last I heard, toes and the way you walk ain’t had nothin’ to do with makin’ babies—if that’s what you want.”
Leaning away from him, she took a moment to regain her composure. “Now you’re trying to embarrass me.”
“No way, just callin’ it like I see it.” His grin moved to laughter, and Marlea couldn’t resist laughing with him.
“Okay, you’ve made me laugh, got me feeling like a fool for short-changing myself. Tell me about this place we’re going to.”
“Jim Crocker is a pedorthist. When it comes to shoes, prescription footwear, rocker soles, orthotic inserts, you name it, he’s the man. There’s not a foot on this planet that I wouldn’t trust to Jim. I’ve known him to customize or fabricate shoes for everyone from diabetics to athletes.”
“You’re sure I can’t just wear some of the shoes I already have?” Marlea’s teeth clamped down on her knuckles.
“You’ve already tried, haven’t you?”
Damn that big-mouthed Rissa!
“So I’ll have better balance in a custom-made shoe?”
She was still asking questions when AJ’s Rover crossed Cobb Parkway into the landscaped office park that housed Marietta BioPed. AJ moved to leave the vehicle, but Marlea sat looking at the sign.
“It’s just a step, Marlea.”
Her eyes were huge and haunted, glistening with unshed tears. “It’s just a step I never thought I would have to take, AJ.”
Reaching across the seat, he gripped the hands that lay so limp and cold in her lap. “It’s a step you don’t have to take alone.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.” And he did.
Marlea followed AJ into Marietta BioPed. Jim Crocker was waiting for them.
He stood at the rear of the neatly appointed reception area talking with two young men. The taller and blonder of the two noticed them first and pointed them out. Moving with sprightly ease, Crocker handed over the folders he had been sharing with the two men and crossed the room.
“AJ, good to see you. It’s been too long, my friend.” Warm and welcoming, he could model for Santa Claus figurines, Marlea marveled. From the snowy white hair and neatly trimmed beard right down to the rosy cheeks and round little belly, the man was a dead ringer for every red-suited Santa she had ever seen.
“You didn’t tell me,” she whispered with a smile.
“Thought you’d like the surprise.”
Crocker shook Marlea’s hand, then tucked his thumbs into the narrow pockets of his open vest and rocked on his toes. “I often cultivate my resemblance to the red-suited one; it builds confidence.”
Okay, I can see the confidence thing working here.
“Knowing AJ, I’m sure he’s explained what I do here,” Crocker chuckled. “Do you have any questions before we get started?”
“I…I do have some questions.” Marlea looked at AJ, then made up her mind. “I would like to speak with you alone, though, for just a few minutes.”
“But…” AJ frowned.
What was it she was always saying about me trying to make her need me? Damn it,
his heart surged,
she does need me, even if she does look as if she thinks she doesn’t.
He gave it one more try. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Right this way, then.” Crocker wasted no time in mediation. Instead, he ushered Marlea into a green-walled consultation room. She settled into an upholstered tweed armchair and faced the pedorthist. Crocker dropped into the chair facing her and looked concerned. “What shall we talk about?”
How to begin?
Alone with Jim Crocker, she fought embarrassment.
I can’t believe I’m sitting here with Santa Claus, trying to figure out how to ask his advice about how to stop my world from rocking every time that, that…therapist touches me!
“A little shy, are we?” He rocked back in his chair. “Is this a delicate matter?”
Intently examining her fingertips, Marlea nodded. “See…every time he puts his hands on me, it feels like…sex,” she finally blurted. “I’m not crying rape or anything, but…I don’t have any control over it and I…I don’t like it. The nurse said I would probably get over it in time, but until then…”
“How long has this been going on?
“Almost from day one.”
“Are you in pain?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and dropping her eyes. “I almost wish I were; maybe that way I wouldn’t feel so guilty about it.”
“And you don’t get the same, ah, sensations when you duplicate the exercises on your own?”
“Never. Not even when one of the female nurses tried to help me at Grady. It only happens with him.”
“You could change therapists.”
“Don’t you think I tried? Every time I tried, something came up. First, I couldn’t seem to get rid of him. Then all of the recommended therapists had full caseloads. After that, my insurance began to limit who I could see and for what. Then I sort of had to…move in with him. So now I have a therapist who turns me on every time he lays a hand on me. Every time.”
“Ahh,” the old man sighed, lifting his thick white brows. “That has got to be a young man’s fantasy, to be able to trigger ascendancy in a beautiful woman with the briefest of touches.” His eyes sharpened behind his thick-lensed glasses. “But you don’t have that kind of relationship, do you? At least, not yet?”
Okay, maybe I should have kept this to myself.
“No, we don’t have that kind of relationship, and if I had known that you were going to make fun of me, I would have kept this to myself.”
“Forgive an old man’s prying.” The specialist smiled softly, his round cheeks dimpling. “To answer your question, though, in time you can expect the sensations to diminish.”
“But what do I do for now? This is so humiliating. There’s nothing I can take for it, and cold showers aren’t helping. I understand that I need the therapy, but he’s driving me nuts!”
“You trust him?” She nodded, and he spread his hands apart as though that explained everything. “Then stop thinking of your body as betraying you and let him help you.”
“That’s it? I should just lie back and enjoy it?”
“That’s it. Think about it, Miss Kellogg. What you’re feeling is real, there’s documented evidence of it. I’ve talked to AJ and there is no salacious attachment, only the concern of a dedicated therapist. Your therapy is not going to last forever. My advice to you is to get back on your feet and back to your life as soon as possible.”
Chastened, unable to look at the old man, Marlea nodded. “You won’t tell him what I told you, will you?”
“Never.” Eyes twinkling, Crocker mimed zipped lips. “Shall we rejoin him?”
“Okay.” Marlea followed him from the room. “Wait.” At the door, she laid a hand on his arm. “You really won’t tell?”
The elderly man put his palm over his heart. “Never.” When Marlea hesitated, his silvery brows rose above his bright blue eyes. “Is there something else?”
Marlea looked at him shyly. She tapped the cane lightly against the floor. “After you do the fitting and make the changes, will I need this?”
Crocker’s smile made her heart lift. “Only as a souvenir.”
“I can think of better souvenirs than this.”
“How about a good sturdy shoe that will take you wherever you need to go?”
“That will do me fine,” Marlea smiled, following him across the hall to his studio.
“I was beginning to think you two had forgotten me,” AJ said, rising from his seat.
“Never fear, my friend. We’ve got business to do in here today. This lady tells me that she’s ready for a pair of shoes.”
“Then let’s get down to business.” AJ pulled a chair forward for Marlea.
Sitting carefully, she glanced around, relieved when AJ sat beside her. Not altogether different from other shoe stores, the main area of Marietta BioPed was fitted as both an examination room and shoe salesroom. Crocker brought a selection of boxes and tools with him when he pulled a stool close enough for analysis. Behind him, more scales and forms were assembled in Plexiglas cubbyholes behind a desk.
For measuring foot lengths and widths,
Marlea guessed. Shoes ranging from the practical to the pretty were displayed on small wall-mounted platforms, and she found herself hoping that she could have something stylish.