Escalation Clause (36 page)

“Hey, Coach! You getting back from South America today?” Ella was practically jumping up and down she was so amped. “Mom, hey Mom, look who I found!” Ella dragged Maureen over, but Rafe could tell she’d read his face and body language and was not pleased by either one.

“Rafe.” She said, brushing her hair back and grabbing the hand of a small boy who looked just like….

“Rafe!” Jack hollered out, slapping him on shoulder. “What a coincidence. Hey we still meeting on Wednesday because….”

“Out of the way, Gordon,” a lovely, blond haired woman shoved Jack aside. “Leave the guy alone, Jesus he just got off an international flight. Sorry,” She held out a hand. “I’m Sara. I had this guy’s children.”

Rafe watched the easy-going interplay between his new boss and the lovely woman and felt a distinct flare of jealousy. He wanted that—a relationship that was fun, funny, sexy and loving. But, he’d have to look elsewhere, that much he knew now. “Hi Sara nice to meet you.” He watched Sara stare at him, then at Maureen who was biting her lip and looking away, then back at him. Her green eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to speak. Jack cleared his throat and gripped her arm.

“Okay baby, let’s get this mob through the airport. Like you said, leave the man alone for now.” Rafe stood and watched, his heart in his throat as Jack hustled his wife, kids, sister, niece and nephew away from him. He dropped into a seat, unable to move for nearly hour as he sensed his thin grip on true happiness disappear between his fingers like fog.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

The text came out of the blue while he was at work. He had stayed true to himself, at a cost of insomnia and heartburn, but true. Had not called or contacted Maureen in any way since returning over a month ago. And, finally, she was reaching out to him.

He let it go unanswered for about an hour, but his head pounded as he kept staring at the words on the screen.
“Sorry. Busy. How was your trip?”
he replied, his fingers nearly seizing up with the effort not to call her.

He got no answer until about seven that night.
“Fine. Thanks. And yours?”

So they were going to play the polite game. He threw the fucking device into the sink, gratified by the pleasant shatter of electronics and then went for a fifteen-mile run in the rain.

Conditioning sessions started in a week for the high school team and something in him hoped and prayed she would show, bring Ella. But she never did. They went through nearly six weeks of hard drills and prep work at an indoor soccer facility before Ella had a single word to say to him. “Coach,” she said, gasping for breath after a series of suicide drills that ended all of his practices.

“What?” He kept his eyes on the roster. “Go home, Ella. Practice is over.” He couldn’t even look at her because every time he did the embarrassment rushed into his head, followed swiftly by longing for that weekend to do over again. But on the heels of all that sappiness, he allowed a flame of anger to light his consciousness. He’d done nothing wrong. But Maureen had used the awkward moment to shove him out of her life. He understood it for what it was now and let the fury fuel him. He turned away from Ella, and when he looked up, she’d gone.

The next week was yet another blur of work, coaching, running, and frustration. Everywhere he turned he saw her, he thought he heard her goofy laugh, caught the tail end of her voice or the flip of her jet-black hair. But, of course it wasn’t her, ever. The girl he’d been steadily fucking to take his edge off had balked, claimed she was tired of being used. Which was true, so he stopped calling her. He worked, coached, ran, ate, and went to bed, repeating it in an endless loop of boredom and unhappiness.

By the time April rolled around, he found himself back in front of his new boss, and the guy was royally pissed. They talked business and put together the recruiting plan. The Turkish guy he wanted as coach had resisted their proposal to return to the U.S. permanently, but Rafe had convinced him to at least visit Ann Arbor, to talk with Jack. He was due in a week. They had a plan of attack that included showing off a couple of guys who had verbally committed to the team already—one somewhat has-been from Spain and a young college kid fresh from a pro soccer snub and eager to prove something. Not the most auspicious beginning but something to build on, he hoped.

“Rafe,” Jack had said after a solid hour of shoptalk, “you are killing me here.”

He looked up from their spreadsheets filled with budgets and potential players they could afford, or in most cases, not. “Huh?” he grabbed a water bottle and sipped, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“Dude, my sister or better yet, my wife is gonna fucking castrate you.”

“Oh.” His face flushed.

“This is so not my business, and I keep trying to tell Sara that, but…,” the man shrugged. “In a way it is. I told you to make Maureen happy, and we would have no problem. She’s miserable. Ergo, we have a problem.”

Rafe stayed quiet. He had no idea what to say. Confiding in people was not his strong suit especially people he wasn’t even sure he liked very much.

“Okay, listen,” Jack shut the laptop, leaned back to the small fridge in his office, bringing out two sweating bottles of beer. He opened them, and handed one across the desk to Rafe.“I get it if you don’t want to be around her or whatever. I mean, it’s cool. It’s a free country. But you need to end it like a man, you know? Not just by stopping all communication then flaunting some twenty-year-old stick figure girl under her nose.”

Rafe put a hand over his lips. “I didn’t,” he spluttered, mortified. “I mean I was just—”

Jack held up a hand. “You can fuck who you want. I’m just playing messenger here. Sara and Mo are very tight. And trust me when I say your name is lower than a bag of shit dust in my house right now. So, lighten up on the cover models, call Mo and tell her why you are ending it as opposed to just that you are ending it. Then move on. Easy. She’ll rally, but not until you give her a reason for your sudden disinterest.”

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered into his beer. “Jack, I…I love your sister.”

“Really. You are very creative about how you show it.” Rafe’s opinion of Jack Gordon amped up when he caught the very real anger in the other man’s eyes and the tightness in his voice that disguised the fury over his sister’s unhappiness.

“No, I was trying to give her space. I mean, you know with the kids. Ella… and…fuck. My stupid brother said I was being a…,” he stopped, unable to find the right word for
panocha
.

“Yeah, that sounds about as lame as it is. Mo needs space like she needs a hole in her head. She needs you, and soon. The kids will sort themselves out. They’re practically adults.”

Rafe shook his head. “It’s probably too late now. I’ve fucked it all up.”

“Nah,” Jack started to grab another beer but his phone buzzed, interrupting him. He frowned at the number then answered it. “Hey, Craig, what’s…?” He shot to his feet. “When? Is she…Okay, I’m on my way.” He stuck the phone in his pocket. Rafe rose.

“What is it?
Primo
?” he said, unconsciously using the affectionate “cousin” he used with good friends.

“Um, Sara is, she just showed up at the ER. She’s … um….”

Rafe grabbed his keys. “I’ll drive. Let’s go.”

They screeched up to the University Hospital Emergency Room and jumped out, tossing the keys to the valet. Jack ran down the hall and was intercepted by a tall, blond doctor. By the time Rafe caught up to them he heard words like “second trimester” and “blood loss” and “admission,” but also “she’s fine.” Jack brushed past the guy when he pointed towards a closed door. Rafe introduced himself to the doctor then sat in a hard plastic chair and held vigil for about an hour as nurses and doctors came and went. Jack emerged at one point and sank into the chair next to him.

“We didn’t want another baby.” He said, staring at the ceiling. “But she’s really upset. I didn’t even know. She wanted to wait to tell me.”

“Ah, so sorry my friend.” Rafe said.

“Jack!” the sound of Maureen’s voice shot through him, and he stood on wobbly knees to greet her. She pulled her brother to his feet and hugged him tight. “She’s okay, right?” Jack nodded, and took a deep breath. But, Maureen interrupted him. “No, no, it’s fine. You don’t need to say anything. Go, be with her.”

They stood and watched Jack head back to Sara’s room. When he reached for her she took a step back then her face crumpled, and she let him wrap her in a tight hug. He sucked in a breath, took in all that was the woman he loved. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. “I’m sorry.” She kissed him, and the sweet nectar of her lips made everything around him disappear.

“Me, too.” To his surprise she disentangled herself and stepped away. “But it has to be this way. I get that now. Thanks for letting me figure it out on my own.” And he was left staring after her, his chest an open aching wound once more as she made her way to Sara’s door, knocked then went in.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lake Michigan, the Memorial

“Hey, Red,” Jack put his arm around the petite woman who’d been his friend for so long. Suzanne leaned into him and they were quiet, looking out over Lake Michigan, two years after they’d lost such an important member of their extended family. She sniffled, then smiled at the sight of the kids, running up and down the shoreline.

“I can definitely tell which one is yours,” she said, pointing as Brandis threw a black and red soccer ball straight at Gabe’s face.

“Yeah, he is the best looking one for sure,” he let go of her prepared to run down and referee the potential spat, but Katie admonished her brother, and he reached over to pull Gabe to his feet. Who then promptly shoved Brandis down and tried to hold him under the six inches of water, his small face a mask of angry concentration. Maddie grabbed her little brother and smacked his hand while Katie got Brandis up, spluttering and crying. But once Brandis had calmed he started yelling his friend’s name and took off in the direction he’d gone. “Those two are something else.” He said under his breath. “Hey,” he held Suzanne at arm’s length. “I’m sorry you and Craig aren’t working out. Sara told me,” he nodded at her. She got as red as a boiled lobster.

A tear slid down her cheek. Jack brushed it away.

“Ah, honey,” he said, folding her into a hug. “Sounds to me like you’re the one with the problem, not him. Sure you want to go there again?”

She struggled out of his arms, her face red with anger this time. “Stay out of it Gordon.” She insisted.

He grabbed her arm. “Listen to me, Baxter, you need that guy. He needs you. Get your fucking shit together.” He made a circling motion with his finger indicating the reason they were there today. “If these last two years have taught you nothing, at least you should realize that you owe it to yourself to embrace the happiness—not to shove it away out of some weird self-punishment.”

“What are you, a shrink?” She laughed at him and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “This sucks.” She said, looking down when Rob appeared with Lila, arm in arm from the southern end of the lakeshore. Jack guided her to a chair, handed her a bottle of water then climbed the long set of steps up to the house. According to Sara, Craig might show, but then again might not. They both believed he was avoiding Suzanne. Not that he blamed the guy. Suzanne could be a stubborn, difficult woman when she put her mind to it.

They had a program planned and now that Rob was back, they ought to put it in motion. Sara’s mother met him at the top of the steps. He hugged her once again without words for her loss. “Go get her,” Beth said, wiping her eyes. “She needs you.”

He found Sara in the bedroom, sitting in a chair and sobbing. He squared his shoulders, pulled her up, wiped her eyes and kissed her, tasting bitter salt on her lips. “C’mon, baby. Let’s rally. We have a job to do. We gotta see this through. He deserved it.”