Redemption (25 page)

Jaxon’s wife had worked for one of those organisations until just a few months ago. After meeting her, it became pretty obvious why she hadn’t travelled to help out with the relief efforts. 

“When are you due?” I asked after the introductions.

“In three months,” Jennifer replied. “I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“I think she’s handling it perfectly,” Jaxon said. “Look at you, you have that pregnancy glow.”

“That’s just sweat,” Jennifer said.

Jaxon did his best to suppress a smile and then we went to join the others in the executive box. Jennifer was going to sit with Michelle and the kids to keep them company while Jaxon and I played football. Or in my case, tried to play football. 

“Do your best to distract them,” I said to Jennifer. “Any time I get to the ball, have them look somewhere else.” 

“They’re Americans,” Jaxon replied. “As an American myself, I can assure you, the football pitch is the last place they will look for entertainment.” 

“Football pitch? You’re starting to sound like one of us.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jaxon said with a grin. “Last time we were in New York, I asked for directions to the car park and got a blank stare. Still can’t beat that city though. Liverpool’s nice, and London’s got everything you could ever want, but New York City is still the place to be.”

“Maybe if they ever get a rugby team, I’ll think about making the move.” 

“You might have a long wait.” 

Jaxon and I headed down to the changing rooms. Fortunately, we were on the same team, so at least there would be one friendly face. Jaxon would never be able to play football at the highest level again, but he would outperform everybody else on that pitch today. 

He’d already admitted that he had his own selfish motivation for playing. Jennifer had always wanted to see him play, but had never got the chance. Now she would.

-*-

It had been many years since I was six years old and standing in the playground as the last one picked to be on their team. I’d been a touch overweight at that age, and I wasn’t exactly gifted with my feet. My transformation into a decent rugby player had been the result of years of hard work, not natural talent.

Now, twenty years later, I found myself as one of the liabilities once again. Jaxon had the role of team captain and he put me as a defensive midfielder where I could do the least damage. 

All the rugby players were put in positions that utilized their main talents. The backs were given roles on the wing where they could make the most of their speed, while a forward and I were kept in the middle of the park to get in the way of the opposition.

I wasn’t particularly fast, but I could kick the ball hard, so when push came to shove, I would just kick the damn thing into the opponent’s half.

Jaxon usually played defensive midfield, but since he was by far the best player on the pitch, he pushed further up and played just behind the striker. It took him mere minutes to exert his control on the game, and thankfully the opposition had a tough job taking it off him. 

When the ball did come towards me, I charged it down and sent it back where it came from. No one had ever called me elegant, even on the rugby field, but at least we weren’t in any danger of conceding.

I couldn’t see Michelle from the pitch, but she would be able to see me, and for once that terrified me. I didn’t need to show off to her—I never had needed to, I suppose—but being exposed was not an experience I intended to repeat any time soon.

“Get up the other end, Olly,” Adam yelled. He used to play right back for Manchester City, but he’d been shoved in central midfield today so that one of the rugby players could take his spot. “You’re tall and we need you up there for the corner.”

I took a deep breath and reluctantly ran up the other end of the pitch. The second I crossed the halfway line I felt a wave of terror rush over me, as if I were trespassing somewhere I didn’t belong.

Despite Adam’s insistence that my height would be an advantage, I didn’t want to go into the box and challenge for a header. Heading the ball wasn’t exactly something we were encouraged to do in rugby, so the entire concept seemed alien. 

I arrived on the edge of the area just as the corner was being swung in. Jaxon leapt for the ball, but the tall centre back got there first and headed it clear. The ball came straight to me. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My eyes traced the trajectory of the ball, and I knew exactly where it was going to land. Right in front of me. Unlike rugby balls, footballs moved predictably and this one was going to land just perfectly for a clean hit.

I adjusted my body slightly and prepared to hit it on the half-volley. The penalty area was crowded, but there was enough space for me to hit it into the top left hand corner of the goal. 

If there was one thing my career in rugby had taught me, it was how to kick a ball. I could send a ball exactly where I wanted it.

I pulled my right leg back and swung.

I watched intently, literally on the edge of my seat, as Oliver swung at the ball, missed it entirely, and landed on his ass with a thump. So much for soccer being safer than rugby.

“This is why I didn’t want him to play,” Shaun said. “He’s not exactly in his element with a round ball.”

“You’ve seen him play before?” Maisie asked.

“Just in the back garden,” Shaun replied. “I went through a phase when I wanted to be a footballer, so Oliver would kick the ball around with me in the back garden. Or at least, he’d try to.”

“I think it’s sweet,” I said. “He can’t be perfect at all physical activities.”

“What is he perfect at other than rugby?” Maisie asked.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Oh Jesus. I think I preferred it when I was the one making embarrassing sex references.”

Jennifer laughed next to me. She found it hilarious listening to Maisie and I talk. I guess our dynamic was a little weird. There was enough of an age gap that she wasn’t a typical sister, but I was too young to be her Mom.

“At least he’s raising money for a good cause,” Jennifer said. “Trust me, when that video clip goes viral, donations are going to go through the roof.”

“I just hope he kicks better during the World Cup,” Maisie said.

“He’ll be just fine,” I assured her. 

Oliver had a few ghosts from 2007 to shake off before the World Cup, but I had every confidence in him. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to playing for England again. Whenever I brought it up he sounded… not nervous, but apprehensive perhaps. Certainly not excited.

The image of missing that kick must be going through his mind non-stop, so I could hardly blame him. But this was a chance to make amends. Why wasn’t he more excited?

Oliver’s team ended up winning the game, although in the last ten minutes the match descended into a bit of a joke as players mucked around and swapped teams, generally playing it up for the audience.

One of the soccer players thought it would be funny to try and rugby tackle one of the rugby players. He ended up getting dragged half the length of the pitch in a desperate attempt to bring the man down any way he could.

Oliver kept his team in the game with some great last-ditch clearances, but no doubt all the replays would focus on his miss in the first half. A guilty smile crept across my lips as I pictured him swinging and missing the ball. 

The players showered and got changed, then joined us upstairs for a champagne reception, which was really just an excuse to convince rich people to open their checkbooks. 

Jennifer had been completely on point about the effect of Oliver’s miss; people laughed and joked about it, but then always made a fat donation afterwards. Oliver took it all in his stride once he realized the positive effect it was having on the charitable efforts.

“Please tell me you didn’t see it?” Oliver said, when he finally got a free minute to talk to me.

“You mean the bit where you landed flat on your ass? Yeah, I saw it. Don’t worry,” I added, leaning in and whispering in his ear. “I’ll massage that area later.”

Oliver moaned quietly. “That might just make this all worth it. You want to go get some fresh air? I need a break from being the laughing stock of the party.”

Oliver led me outside to the stands where we sat and looked at the empty field. The sun had set and there was a slight chill in the air, so Oliver leant me his jacket and wrapped his arm around me.

“I don’t want to spoil the mood,” Oliver said, “but when are you going home?” 

“We should stay for a little longer. Maisie is having the time of her life going round meeting all the rugby players and insulting the soccer players.”

“I meant, when are you going home? You know, back to the US.”

“Oh. Well, you booked an open ticket, so technically there’s no fixed date, but…”

“But you have to get back to your life over there at some point.”

“Maisie has to go back to school, and I need to go back to work at some point. Mom doesn’t earn any money, and I didn’t exactly have a lot saved up.”

“Obviously you don’t have to worry about money anymore,” Oliver said. 

“You’re not my sugar daddy, Oliver,” I replied. “I don’t need you to finance me.”

“That’s not it at all. I would have helped you out long ago, but Maisie always used to pretend that you were quite well off.”

“We get by,” I said. “But I have to work hard for it. Anyway, even if money weren’t an issue, Maisie still has to go back for school and I have to go with her.”

“So we only have about six weeks?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I suppose so.” I didn’t want to have this conversation, but we needed to have it nonetheless. “Maisie’s not going to want this summer to end.”

“And what about you?” 

“You know how I feel.”

“Let’s do something about it then. I’m not about to let you go, Michelle. It’s not going to be another eight bloody years before I see you again.” 

“You want to do the long distance thing?” I asked. I’d settle for long-distance. It wasn’t ideal, but anything that kept Oliver in my life was worth doing.

“No, not really. We’ll think of something. Perhaps I can move to the US with you?”

“You want to come and live in Northern Virginia?” 

“What’s it like?” he asked. 

“Kind of conservative. Probably a little too conservative for your tastes.”

“Well, we can live wherever. As long as I’m with you, I don’t much care where we live.”

“Are you saying you want to move in with me?” I asked. I already lived with Oliver, but that had come about in an odd way, and I was still effectively living out of a suitcase. It just so happened that the suitcase was now located in a humongous house.

“If you’ll have me,” Oliver replied. “I know I’ll never be able to completely make it up to you for what I did to you and Maisie eight years ago, but I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

“You can start by not blaming yourself for the attack,” I said. “It was nothing to do with you, and you don’t have to make it up to us.”

“You don’t know the whole story,” Oliver said. “I am to blame.”

“I don’t care,” I replied. “Look, whatever happened eight years ago is in the past now. I want to move on from that.”

“Okay,” Oliver said, nodding his head. “But you need to move on too.”

He was right. I was being a hypocrite again, telling him to move on, while I had come to a party wearing a light shawl that covered my arm. 

I stood up and handed Oliver back his jacket and then removed my shawl, revealing my arm to anyone who looked in my direction.

“Come on,” I said, offering my hand to Oliver. “I’m done hiding. Let’s go mingle.”