Home Field Advantage (23 page)

"No," she said
numbly. "No, what does it mean?"

His eyes glittered and he
stood, beginning to pace as he talked ebulliently. "That I'm not just
another has-been who took one too many hits. That I'm good at what I do. You
don't think about retirement when you get drafted by the NFL, but finding out
you're washed up at thirty leaves too damned many years staring you in the
face. I wanted to know that I could do something else just as well. Now I
do."

"But...what about the
horses?"

"Isaiah can handle the
business for a few years. I'll be here when I can, and I'll provide the money
to back him up. We can hire some more people, buy into bloodlines that were too
rich for us. It's one hell of a chance, Marian."

Still she sat there, feeling
almost nothing as she saw her dreams washed away. "You'd never be
home."

John seemed not to notice her
state of shock. "It'd only be for a few years. You can travel with me once
we're married. If you go back to college the way you've talked about, we'd need
to hire a housekeeper anyway. Wouldn't you like to travel, see Europe?"

Her voice was stiff and
rusty, as though she hadn't used it in a long while. "What about our
children?"

"They'd adjust," he
said blithely.

"Adjust? You mean grow
up. The housekeeper would raise them while we were jet-setting!"

His eyes darkened.
"We're not back to that."

"Back?" Marian
stood, too, her head held high. "I believed you when you said you needed
this job to support the ranch. I told myself you were a good father, that I
could stand waving good-bye every Friday, because at least the other half of
the year we would be a family. I told myself that I..." Her voice broke
and she steeled herself. "That I loved you. And now you breeze in and
announce that once we're married we can dump the kids on some hired woman
who'll take my place."

"That's not what I
said."

"No? Maybe you should
interpret it for me."

"I said I've been
offered a terrific job that'll mean traveling quite a bit for a few years. That
I'd like my wife to come with me sometimes. That I need this, and I need
you."

Betrayal tightened her
throat. "No, you don't need me. You need a new housekeeper. One who'll convince
Emma that all daddies disappear every Friday, that being raised by a stranger
is normal!"

"By God..." The
words were ripped from between clenched teeth and his eyes blazed. "Don't
tell me what kind of father I am! You've sacrificed your whole life to two
toddlers who'll grow up knowing they owe you. Don't try to tell me that's
better than having parents who live interesting, vital fives! Who can show
their children what life can be like!"

"Do you know how much
you remind me of Mark right now?" Marian asked bitterly. "The biggest
difference is that you can have your cake and eat it, too. You can afford to
pay somebody to take your responsibilities. And that's what it amounts to, no
matter how nicely you dress it up. So don't expect me to be grateful because
you want me to abandon my children to go with you!"

Anger radiated from every
tense line of John's body when he stalked toward her. "I'm not your
ex-husband," he said harshly. "But you're never going to believe
that, are you?"

She didn't back down, however
much it hurt. "Do I have any reason to?"

He gripped her chin and
lifted it, his mouth twisting as he looked down into her eyes. "I love
you."

I will survive, Marian told
herself fiercely. I will survive.

"I need more than
that," she whispered.

The look of agony on his face
was more answer than she had expected to receive. But then his lips blotted out
her anger and misery and bitterness, searing hers in a kiss of emotions so
stark she couldn't respond. She stood passive in his grip, accepting but unable
to give.

In an instant it was over and
she was left alone, the slam of the front door echoing in her ears. She cried
again, but these tears burned her cheeks.

*****

John rode down the demons,
working his favorite mare in the indoor arena until her chestnut coat was slick
with sweat and she anticipated his every command as though she read his mind.

As he rode, his turmoil
simmered into anger, then frustration, and the clarity that told him what a
fool he'd been. What else had he expected from Marian? He knew her ex-husband
had walked out because he didn't want the responsibility of children. He knew
she'd had to devote her life to Anna and Jesse because she'd had no choice.
He'd wooed her with such care, easing past the barrier of mistrust. And then
what did he do but sweep in and announce that he was taking her away from it
all! Forget family dinners and PTA meetings—imagine Paris, London, New Orleans!
And he was surprised that he'd scared her off?

But he'd meant what he said,
too. Maybe that made him selfish, but he wasn't ready for a life that held
nothing but PTA meetings and leading a stallion around the show ring. If
nothing else, he'd loved being an athlete. Next to the emotional highs he'd
felt on the football field, life could seem pretty flat. Life had seemed flat,
John corrected himself, until he met Marian.

If he had to choose, he would
do it. He wasn't going to lose her, not so he could sit in a booth and call
somebody else's game. But what if it was too late? Her willingness to trust a
man was all too fragile; tonight he'd splintered it into shards that had stung.
Would he be able to repair her faith in him?

And if he did, would he be
able to turn on the Olympic Games a couple of years from now and not feel
resentment?

He swore, his voice bleak,
and the mare's ears flickered back. He clucked reassuringly and her stride
lengthened. For a moment he blanked everything from his mind and let himself
feel the rhythm, the contained power, the incredible obedience of an animal
who didn't have to obey.

At last he unsaddled her and
walked her out in the dark pasture, stumbling on hillocks and clumps of rough
grass. When the mare's breathing had quieted and she felt cool under his palm,
he turned back to the barn. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Isaiah waiting,
dark and massive but comforting in his familiarity.

"Saw the lights."

John nodded and walked past.
Loosely tying the Arabian, he unhooked a bucket of brushes and combs from a
nail on the wall and began grooming the mare.

Isaiah laid an arm across her
rump and watched John. "Bad trip?"

John concentrated on working
the snarls from the flaxen mane. At last he said, "The network wants me to
take on more. Some basketball and baseball, special events. They're offering me
a damned good contract."

"Did you talk to
Malone?"

Pete Malone was John's agent.
"He's all for it," John said shortly.

"Nice cut, huh?"

John grunted his agreement.
He dropped the comb into the bucket and picked up a brush. When he started in
on the mare's shoulder, her skin rippled in reaction and she whuffled softly.

"So what's the
problem?"

“Marian."

"Doesn't want you on the
road?"

"That's putting it
mildly," John said. "She sees it as deserting the kids."

Isaiah didn't say anything
for a long while. When he did, he asked the question John hadn't confronted
yet. "Do you want to be on the road that much?"

Methodically John worked his
way toward the mare's hindquarters. "I don't know," he said.
"I'd like to be at the Olympics, the Super Bowl..."he shrugged.
"The rest I could take or leave. I get sick of planes and hotels and I don't
want to be away from Emma that much." He was silent for a moment.
"Well, it's pretty obvious I'll be turning them down."

Isaiah picked up a brush and
groomed the horse's other side. The two men worked in silence until John tossed
the hoofpick into the bucket and unlooped the lead to return the mare to her
stall. Isaiah hung up the bucket and followed him. A minute later, they left
the warm darkness of the barn. Above, the moon was full but half obscured by a
bank of clouds chased by a chill breeze.

"You know..."
Isaiah said, in that Oklahoma drawl he hadn't lost, "seems to me the
network wants you to go deep and Marian wants two yards in a cloud of
dust."

"So?"

Isaiah slapped a meaty hand
on John's back. "There're other plays. You're the quarterback. Call
one."

John stopped. "You're
suggesting a compromise."

"You were All-Pro,
weren't you?"

"For a damned good
reason."

"Yup," Isaiah
agreed, deadpan. "Me."

John surprised himself with a
snort of laughter. "You've got it ass-backward. You were lucky to have me."

Isaiah's teeth flashed white
in the darkness. "Whichever, we made a hell of a team."

Abruptly sober, John said,
"What do you think? Will I short the ranch if I take on any more
assignments?"

"I'm not going to give
you an easy out like that. I can handle it. The call's yours," he
repeated, then walked away. " 'Night."

John echoed him, but didn't
head for the house right away. Maybe Isaiah had something, he thought.

Then again, maybe not.
Compromise cut both ways. When you hurt, you didn't compromise. Besides, he
wasn't so sure the issue really was his job anymore. He had a feeling it was
trust, and trust didn't come with a maybe.

*****

Marian was stung by the sound
of the two men laughing outside. She lay rigid in the darkness, listening for
their voices, for footsteps on the porch.

She never heard John come in,
for which she was grateful. She almost wished one of the twins would wake up
and creep down the hall to sleep with Mommy. Jesse especially liked to do that,
and right now his small warm body would have been a bulwark against her
anguish. He would have reminded her what was important: her children. She had
to put them first! They had a right to expect that, especially when they could
count on only one parent.

Or was she being unreasonable
once again, her fears an indelible impression left by a man whose face she
could scarcely picture and whom she no longer cared about?

Staring dry-eyed into the
darkness, Marian remembered how happy she had been just yesterday. The fall
was more agonizing than if John had never loved her, never asked her to marry
him. Was she a fool? she wondered. Wouldn't half a loaf be better than none at
all? She'd told herself she wanted to share however much of his life John would
allow her.

But she had lied. She didn't
want a part. She wanted it all! Was that so wrong, to ask for as much in return
as you were willing to give? Why couldn't he want a family, and not just a
wife?

Did it matter anymore? She'd
been too blunt, even cruel, to have a second chance. She should be very glad
for Mark's change of conscience, because one way or another she would have to
leave John and Emma. Even if John didn't ask her to go, staying would be
impossible. Marian dreaded telling Emma, but she wondered if Emma needed her as
much as she had convinced herself the child did. Lately the five-year-old had
even seemed to resent the twins, as though she chafed at the new boundaries a
real family would provide. Perhaps a childless housekeeper who was paid to
give Emma her full attention would be best.

Marian tried to bury her face
in the pillow, to shut out the thoughts that gave her no peace, but of course
it didn't work. As the hours crept on, she drifted in and out of nightmarish
sleep, gratefully conscious when at last Jesse did climb into bed with her and
nestle against her back.

When morning poked watery
wisps of sunlight in her window, Marian dragged herself up to dress the twins
and face breakfast. She winced after a glance at herself in the mirror. Her
eyes were heavy and tired, her hair stuck out at odd angles, and her skin was
pasty. When she and her children trailed into the kitchen, John was already
pouring cereal into a bowl for Emma.

"I'm sorry," Marian
said mechanically. "I guess I overslept."

He glanced at her.
"Don't worry about it. Emma and I are capable of feeding ourselves."

She couldn't have said
another word if her life had depended on it. Silently she lifted Anna and Jesse
onto their booster seats, then headed for the cupboard for the other boxes of
cereal.

Steam already curled out of
the tea kettle, so she poured herself a cup of spice tea, then got down bowls
for the twins.

"I don't want
cereal," Anna said. "I want syrup."

"Your mom looks
tired," John said. "Why don't you settle for some Lucky Charms this
morning?"

"Waffles," Anna
said stubbornly.

"F'ench toast,"
Jesse contributed.

Marian was just as glad to
have something to do that would keep her from having to sit down at the table
and face John across it. "Okay," she said. "But one or the
other. Shall we flip a coin?"