Miracle Road: Eternity Springs Book 7 (16 page)

She said it like “There is the Holy Grail.”

This time Hope was the one releasing a sigh. “I’m with you, Mrs. Mitchell. Both Principal Geary and I have been thinking in that same direction. He told me just this morning that he spoke to Zach and Gabi over the weekend. They’ve agreed to help as their schedules allow. As far as Lucca Romano goes … that’s tougher.”

“Wade saw him dunk the ball Friday night. He hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”

Hope had watched the boys’ basketball team play last year, and she knew that Wade was a talented player. “Lucca claims to be retired from coaching. I believe he is firm in that decision.”

“Maybe if we couched it in terms other than coaching? Consulting, perhaps? If Zach and Gabi can help with Wade’s fundamentals, and maybe get their brother Tony to visit for a private coaching clinic for Wade, then maybe Coach Lucca Romano could advise you on what Wade needs to do to catch the notice of scouts and recruiters?”

“Maybe.” Hope thought it over. Wade’s mother had a point. Who knew what Lucca would think of the proposal? Maybe it would be just the sort of thing he needed to ease back into that part of his life. “I certainly don’t see what it would hurt to ask. Heaven knows, I can use all the help I can get.”

“Thank you, Ms. Montgomery.”

“Hope. Please, call me Hope.”

“It’s a fitting name. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of family business, but I justify it because it’s part of a coach’s job to advocate for her players. However, I’m not a helicopter parent. No matter what happens from this point on, I give you my word that this is the last you will hear from me on this topic.”

“I will do my best to help Wade. I agree that it is part of my job. I’m glad you came to me, and, please, don’t hesitate to contact me about any concerns you may have in the future.”

Hope made small talk with Wade’s mother as she escorted her to the school office where she signed out of the building. A glance at the wall clock told her she had just enough time to stop by her classroom to grab a jacket and her sack lunch, and then duck into the cafeteria and purchase a bag of chips for Lucca.

She arrived at the courtyard to find him already there.
He’s washing windows
? His jacket lay draped over the picnic table. He had a squeegee in one hand, and a spray bottle of cleaner in the other. A white rag hung from the back pocket of his jeans. She watched his biceps bunch as he lifted his arms, and her mouth went dry.

Get your mind back where it belongs.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Washing the windows?”

“Just the top row. It’ll save your janitor quite a bit of time. He needs a step stool to reach it.” He gathered up his cleaning supplies, used a bottle of water to rinse his hands, then wiped them with the rag from his pocket while Hope set out their lunch.

“The weather is colder now than it was earlier,” she observed as she set out the chips. “This courtyard is nice because it’s sheltered from the wind. I heard we have a chance for snow later this afternoon.”

“I don’t know that I’m ready for snow,” he said. “Are those Cheetos I see?”

“And Fritos and pretzels and potato chips. I wasn’t sure of your junk food preference, so I bought some of each.”

“Love ’em all.” He lifted his long legs over the bench of the picnic table and sat. “Thanks. So, carrot sticks aside, you’re not one of those food-police types?”

“Not at all. I scored brownies for both of us in the cafeteria. They’re not as good as what Sarah bakes, but they’re not bad, either.”

“Excellent.”

He took a bite of sandwich, nodded his approval, then observed, “This is a nice little spot. I’m surprised it’s not overrun with students.”

“Access is restricted to faculty and staff. It’s our refuge, our little garden of tranquillity. I have a later lunch than the other teachers due to my half-day kindergarten, so I almost always have it to myself.”

“I’m glad, because I figure this conversation is better done in privacy.” He pinned her with a steady green-eyed stare. “So, tell me why you planned to visit me this afternoon.”

Hope looked down at her sandwich and felt her cheeks warm with a blush. “What … no easing into this?”

“I don’t know how much time you have for lunch.”

She twisted her mouth ruefully and then popped a grape into it to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. Its sour taste made her pucker. “I wanted to apologize to you for sneaking out of your house Sunday morning. That wasn’t well done of me.”

“Apology accepted.” He reached for one of her carrot sticks and bit into it with a crunch. While she frowned at him—hadn’t he claimed carrots sticks to be a deal breaker?—he studied her. He came to some sort of decision, because he nodded once and said, “I owe you an apology too, Hope. You were obviously upset and if I’d been a gentleman, I would have put the brakes on things.”

“I didn’t go looking for a gentleman, Lucca. I went looking for escape.”

“Escape from what?”

Hope sucked in a heavy breath. She had to go down this road. Part of the way, anyway. She owed him that much. “I had a phone call from my ex. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“Ah.” He took a bite from his half sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Tell me about your ex.”

“I’d rather not. It’d give me indigestion. Can we change the subject please? I’d like to tell you about the parent conference I mentioned.”

He gave her a long considering look, and she could see his inner debate. He wanted to press her. Hope lifted her chin. She had no intention of being pressed.

“All right, then,” he conceded. “I’ll keep my opinions about harassment to myself. Just tell me this. How long have you been divorced?”

Hope breathed a sigh of relief. “Four years. End of story. So, about my parent conference … we have a senior student named Wade Mitchell. His parents are local ranchers. He’s a good student, but not an exceptional one. I expect him to graduate with a B+ average. He is, however, an exceptional athlete.”

She didn’t miss her lunch partner’s subtle tensing. Nevertheless, she pressed on. “He’s tall and strong from his ranch work. He has quick reflexes and he thinks on his feet. He plays basketball.”

Lucca set down his sandwich. “Hope, if you’re thinking what I think you are thinking, then save your breath.”

“Just hear me out. Would you, please?”

“It won’t matter.”

“Our basketball coach quit just before school started. Our principal couldn’t find a replacement. I’m filling in. Me. I haven’t played basketball since high school. Wade has the raw talent to play for a college team, Lucca, but he needs to develop his skills and he needs … we need … to call him to the attention of the decision makers.”

“No,” he said flatly and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.

Annoyed now, she wasn’t going to let it go. It was time he stopped wallowing. “The first practice is this afternoon. Helping Wade could count for your volunteer pledge. Wouldn’t it be easier to coach the young man a little than to go around the school washing the high windows? You could make a tremendous difference in that young man’s life. Wade Mitchell needs you.”

“I said no.”

“Why?” Irritation sharpened her tone. “Lucca, you’re not even thinking about it.”

“I don’t have to. No way, Hope. I saw the kid. You’re right, he does have talent. But I’m not a mentor, a teacher, or a coach.”

“What are you then? A paint scraper?”

“Presently, yes.”

“Well, that’s ambitious.” She wanted to reach across the table and shake him. “What are you going to do beyond that? Continue to wallow?”

Irked, Lucca scowled at her. “‘Wallow’? Seems you didn’t mind it the other night.” He tossed down his napkin and stood up to leave. “I don’t need this, Hope.”

“I think you do. You need it more than you’ll ever realize. You didn’t die in that van wreck, Lucca. You are still here. And all you’re doing is existing. You need to give something back and start living again.”

Before he could retort, she went on. “There are people in this world who have lived through all nine circles of hell and are still putting one foot in front of the other. They give back. Do you know why? Because it helps. It makes you feel better. It reminds you that you’re still alive even though you might wish you were dead.”

His eyes angry, he fired his words like bullets. “Seems to me that I’ve already done my share of giving. I gave you all you could handle the other night, didn’t I? You wanted escape, and I gave you a place to go. I didn’t ask for explanations or strings, and I’m damn sure not asking for advice.” He grabbed up his jacket. “So, thanks for the sandwich. And for the screw. Beyond that, we’re done here.”

Whoa.
She sucked in a breath, wounded, and watched him walk away in stunned silence.

But as he reached for the door’s handle, she found her voice and her backbone. “You ass.”

She threw down her own napkin and rose. “How dare you? You sorry, selfish, poor-pitiful-me sonofabitch. I know you feel guilty because your players died.”

He whirled to face her. “Do not dare to—”

She cut him off with a jab of her hand. “I understand that the success you had afterward didn’t rest well on your shoulders. Probably made you feel guilty as all hell to win. I get that. It’s hard to be the one left behind, Lucca. I understand that more than you probably realize. But do you know what? You just need to get over yourself and move forward, Coach. It’s not all about you.”

He stood frozen in place, as tall and stiff as the Ponderosa pine rising from the center of the courtyard. Hope was on a roll. She stepped away from the picnic table and approached him, her chin up, and her hands braced on her hips. “You have been given so much—talent and treasure and a face and body that make a woman swoon. You’re a grand-prize winner in the genetics lottery. And what are you doing with those gifts? Nothing. It’s a disgrace. You have no purpose. You could do so much good, but instead you are working as a second-rate handyman for your mother.”

His jaw was set and as hard as the granite cliffs of Murphy Mountain, his eyes as cold as its summit in January. He was a full foot taller than she was; he loomed above her. Hope didn’t give a damn. He needed that fine ass of his kicked.

She put her palm against his chest and shoved him. “You are not the only person in the world to suffer a tragedy, Lucca Romano. Other people suffer losses. But other people can’t count on their big bank account or their large, loving family for support. Do you know what it’s like to have no one? To be totally alone? No, you don’t! You are a Romano.”

“Dammit, Hope.”

“Don’t you curse at me! Other people have suffered the worst that life can throw at them and they didn’t quit. They climbed back up on their feet and they survived and they made a freaking difference. Well, guess what, mister. You could do that, too. You
should
do it, too. It’s tragic that your van wrecked and your players died. It’s horrible to be the one left behind who has to try to make sense of the incomprehensible. But it happens. Life happens, and life isn’t all NCAA tournaments and roses. You need to knock off the pity party and get over yourself.”

She reached past him, yanked open the door, and sailed through it, leaving him—and her lunch remains—behind. In a blind fury, she marched down the hall and around the corner until she reached the girls’ locker room. Shoving open that door, she strode inside and kicked an open locker door shut as his words echoed through her mind.
Thanks for the sandwich. And the screw.

“Thanks for nothing, lawn boy.”

She took a deep, cleansing breath, then walked to her locker and changed into her athletic clothes. She had afternoon gym classes to oversee.

Not to mention the first basketball practice of the season.

With Hope’s angry accusations ringing in his mind, Lucca exited the school, his shoulders hunched against the wind’s chill. Brittle brown leaves skittered across the sidewalk as he walked beside the playground where squealing children ran for the shelter of the school.

He’d left his truck at Aspenglow, a five-minute walk from school. Halfway there, a flurry of fat snowflakes began to swirl around him. His leather coat didn’t offer much protection from the elements. Soon he was as cold on the outside as he was inside.

His refusal to coach had definitely struck a nerve, and she’d fired back hard. Of all the lousy things she’d said, calling him a quitter rankled the most. For all his life, he’d been a competitor, never a quitter. The fact that he deserved the charge made him feel like crap. The truth really did hurt; it gave him one more reason to despise himself.

Knock off the pity party and get over yourself.

“Hell, Hope. I’m trying.”

But was he, really? Had he tried to rise out of the funk he’d fallen into? He’d come to the mountains with his tail tucked between his legs and licking his wounds. He was playing handyman/gardener for his mother, scraping paint, trimming posies, and hiding from the world and from himself. Shameful.

Upon reaching his truck, he fired up the engine, pulled out onto Aspen Street, and started driving. He took the first turn that headed out of town, a little two-lane route that climbed up past the cemetery and into the mountains to the west. With no particular destination in mind, he drove, following the road wherever it led.

As the miles passed, Lucca slowly began to relax, to warm, to chip his way through the ice that had encased him since the moment Hope had asked him to coach.

Rounding a curve, he spied a scenic overlook ahead. He turned into the parking area, killed the ignition, and slipped into a jacket he’d left in the cab. He exited his truck and walked to the wooden railing at the overlook’s edge.

The snow shower had blown over, leaving sunshine in its wake. Eternity Springs sat snuggled in the valley below, pretty as a Christmas card with a dusting of new snow. Lucca gripped the railing and stared down at the little town.

Get over yourself.

One corner of Lucca’s mouth lifted in a cheerless smirk. In the past, he’d have heard that sentiment from his family, but they tiptoed around him these days. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had put him in his place that way. Leave it to a kindergarten teacher.