Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

“Uh … ” Nathan looked down, collected his thoughts, and continued. “It’s you. It’s every man, woman, and child who comes out to support us, who believes in us. Last week, we disappointed you in Colbert County, when we failed to convert on the third drive in the first quarter. We lost that game by three points, which goes to show that mistakes in the beginning will always be with you in the end. You never come back from them.”

Tolly was pretty sure he glanced at her when he said that last part.

“But this week, we aren’t going to make those same mistakes. I told you the first time I stood in front of you, this year that it wasn’t going to be a perfect season — that we had a lot to learn about each other. But we are learning. We have learned from every mistake we’ve made and we are going to make it work for us tonight when we play Clay County. Now, we haven’t beaten Clay County in six years. They think we are an easy game. They are confident, cocky. But this year — ” he raised his voice, not much but just enough “ — they are coming to our house!” And a bit more. “To your house!” And again. “And this year it’s going to be different!”

Mayhem, this was the absolute definition of mayhem. Tolly was thinking of joining the cheerleaders for a few cartwheels herself when Nathan put up his hand again.

“Do you want to know what the difference is this year?” His voice was back at its normal volume now. “It’s not the desire to win. Everybody wants to win. It’s not hard work. We work hard but no harder than past teams. It’s you!” He pointed to the crowd like Uncle Sam demanding patriotic volunteers. “It’s not lost on us that last week, after we handed you a defeat, when we ran off that field, you were on your feet cheering for us just as if we had delivered the victory we should have. You can’t know what that means.” Nathan put his hand over his heart. “But you can be sure that is an image and a feeling we will carry onto the field tonight. You give us your spirit and we will not let you down. Now, who’s going to come out tonight and bring that spirit?”

“WE ARE!”

“Who’s going to sit in those stands tonight and make some noise?”

“WE ARE!” Tolly was surprised when she found herself on her feet, delivering the correct answer, but she was glad when she saw Kirby beam at her.

“Who’s a Bobcat?”

“WE ARE!”

“All right, then,” Nathan said quietly, as if his work was done, that it was all settled. And he turned and, with that same loose hipped slow saunter, led his coaches and his team to sit in the section of bleachers that had been reserved for them.

What followed were cheers, a majorette routine, and a skit put on by the student council that Tolly did not entirely understand. Something to do with bees — or maybe it was yellow jackets — dressed up like football players, trying to sting a bobcat, who tricked them into stinging each other to death. Then came some announcements by the principal, one more cheer, and it was over.

Should she go speak to Kirby? Probably not. Students surrounded the team but none of the other adults were moving that way. Nathan looked toward her. Maybe she should speak to
him
, tell him he’d made a good speech. After all, it was the truth and she was a fair person. Or better yet, offer to email him the user friendly food chart she’d made from the original nutrition plan. Stating the facts and being a good football parent wasn’t interacting. It was professional discourse.

Nathan waved and made to move in her direction when one of the majorettes pranced up to him and put her hand on his arm. She spoke to him with such animation that Tolly wouldn’t have been surprised to see stars and hearts shoot out her mouth. Nathan nodded, smiled, and laughed at something she said before continuing to where Tolly stood.

Over Nathan’s shoulder, Tolly saw the girl watch him walk away. Her expression changed from an exuberant teenage girl to that of a grown woman on the prowl in a bar. Tolly was pretty sure the girl’s eyes dropped to watch Nathan’s butt as he walked away. It was a butt worth watching but there was just something creepy and unsavory about the way she looked at him.

“So you came,” Nathan said. He seemed happy about it, even a little pleased with her.

“Yes. And I’ll be at the game tonight. I realized it was important to Kirby.”

Nathan nodded with approval. “I’m glad to hear that. It
is
important.”

Tolly opened her mouth to tell him she’d enjoyed his speech and offer the food chart, but instead, she found herself saying, “Nathan, who was that girl?”

“What girl?”

“That girl you were talking to.”

“Who?” His expression was clueless. “There are hundreds of girls in this school.”

“The majorette.”

“Oh. Jamie Fisher. She’s in one of my English classes. What about her?”

“You need to watch it.”

“Watch what?” he said defensively. If he had shown any sign of softening toward her, it was gone. “If you are implying that I would
ever
— ”

Tolly shook her head. “I’m not implying that. But what I just saw was a grown man innocently talking to a student and a girl on the make. Be careful. Don’t be alone with her.”

“Townshend, for your information, I am never alone with female students. That was a lesson I learned, oh, about thirteen years ago. And this is probably hard for you to believe, but not every pretty teenage girl is deceptive and intent on collecting hearts for sport.”

And with that, he turned and stalked away, leaving nothing between them except an iceberg.

That’s what she got for interacting.

But he’d said
hearts
.
Had
she collected his? Not that it mattered any more now than it did then.

“You’re dressed up for a Saturday morning,” Lanie said as Tolly approached the round table in the back of Lou Anne’s diner where she, Lanie, Missy, and Lucy always sat. This morning Lanie and Missy had Emma and Beau with them.

Tolly looked down at her pink wool suit and black stilettos and sat down. “After breakfast, I have to go to Casey to interview a possible witness.”

“And why is it — ” Missy cut up a waffle and split it between Beau and Emma “ — that my husband is on the golf course, but
you
have to drive an hour on your day off?”

“Harris has already tried with her. He claims she’s a man hater. He couldn’t tell if she was being belligerent or if she really didn’t know anything.”

“Maybe if the Bragg charm didn’t work, the Lee charm will,” Lucy said.

“That’s pretty much what Harris said, but I think he just wants to play golf,” Tolly said.

“You need to stop letting him run over you,” Missy said. “I can give you some private lessons. I am very effective.”

Tolly laughed. “No doubt. But I don’t mind. It’s a beautiful day. And, frankly, I could use some alone time. And some quiet.” Kirby had been with her three weeks now and while she was very pleased that he now felt at home, that comfort brought a lot of noise with it. TV sports announcers shouting, music blaring, cell phone buzzing, and teenage boys running up and down the stairs like St. Bernard puppies.

“So I take it he’s gotten over walking on egg shells,” Lanie said as she lifted a glass of orange juice to Emma’s mouth.

“I put a pad on the refrigerator so he can write down what he needs without having to ask. At first, he wouldn’t put anything on it. Yesterday, he wrote shaving cream, apples, and an MG convertible.”

That got a laugh from everyone.

Lou Anne set a cup of coffee and a bowl of cheese grits in front of her. “Did you want the usual, Tolly? If not, I’ll get you something else.”

“This is perfect. I can always count on you, Lou Anne.”

“More than you know, baby. Kirby played a good game last night.”

“He did,” Tolly agreed. “I was very proud of him.”

She’d even seen a little of the game this time. She’d lived through three games now, two wins and a loss. The first two games, she’d kept her eyes closed most of the time. Last night, she’d been able to keep her eyes open, but had avoided the game by watching Nathan on the sidelines slapping bottoms, screaming, and throwing his clipboard and headset. It had been entertaining until a Bobcat running back broke away and ran for a sixty yard touchdown. Excited, Nathan had tried to run down the side of the field but had to stop to grab his knee.

After that, she’d watched Kirby play. She and Nathan hadn’t spoken since the day she’d warned him about Jamie Fisher. When they’d been invited to watch college football at Harris and Missy’s, they’d reverted to speaking at and around each other.

But that didn’t matter. She shook it off and dug into her cheese grits.

“How are all the pregnant ladies feeling today?” she asked.

• • •

The meeting went very well. Turns out, the witness knew more than she thought did and she was willing to testify. Harris just hadn’t asked the right questions or admired enough cats and African violets. Tolly placed the pot of purple violets she’d been gifted with in the back floorboard and slid behind the wheel. Maybe she’d better call Harris before heading home. She would not have service on the road between Casey and Merritt. Just as she reached for her phone, it rang. She checked the caller ID. Kirby.

“Hey, sweetie. I’m about to head back. What’s up?”

Silence. Though it wasn’t logical, a bad feeling shot through her.

“Kirby?”

“Tolly, this is Rayford Stumps.”

Why was the Chief of Police calling her on Kirby’s phone?

“Yes? Where’s Kirby?”

“Kirby’s been in an auto accident and I’m at the scene.”

Oh, God, no. “What? Let me talk to him. Put him on.” As soon as she heard his voice, her ears would stop ringing. This was bad — a million times worse than a football pileup.

“Can’t,” Rayford said. “He’s been taken to the hospital. The ambulance just left.”

Ambulance?
Lanie had been in an accident last spring and had been in a coma for days. For a while there —

“Is he alive? Is he all right?”

“He was lucid enough to hand his phone over when I asked for it. That’s all I know. You’d better get over to the hospital.”

“Rayford, I’m in Casey! I’m an hour away!” Panic, panic, panic. And to think she’d been looking forward to the quiet car trip. Now all she wanted was some teenage boy noise — the kind that would wake the dead.

Dead.
She didn’t know how to plan a funeral.

“Then calm down and come on back. Now, what adult can I call to go be with him until you get there?”

To be there to hold his hand when he died?
Rayford might as well have said it. What if he was brain dead? What if she had to make the decision to turn off a respirator? Well, she wouldn’t do it. She’d let him live, no matter what it took. Doctors didn’t know everything. He might wake up. It had happened, even after twenty years. She’d take care of him. Not that she ought to be trusted. Who had he been in the car with anyway? Any decent parent would know that. She should have gotten him a car. But no! She’d been too busy moping over her high school journal and worrying about the nutrition plan!

“Tolly? Are you there? Who can I call for Kirby?”

Who? Lanie? Missy? Harris? No, that was who she’d want. There was only one answer.

“Can you call Nathan Scott?”

“Sure. Now, you be calm and don’t wreck yourself. I’ll go over there and call you as soon as I know something.”

“It won’t help. I won’t have coverage.”

“Well, then. Just come on back. Drive slow.”

Not likely.

• • •

At Merritt General Hospital, Tolly pulled into a no parking zone and threw the car door open. She tried to run but her shoes wouldn’t let her. She could fix that. Shoes in hand, she ran, her bare feet slapping against the rough asphalt, and then the cold tile of the ER lobby.

“Kirby Lawson,” she said breathlessly at the information desk. The only words she was going to waste were the ones that would get immediate action. “He’s a minor and I’m his guardian.”

The woman consulted her computer screen. “Through the double doors. Fifth cubicle on the left.”

Tolly ran and ran and ran. It had sounded so much closer than it was. She burst through the curtain, prepared for the worst of the worst.

And there sat Kirby on the exam table, drinking a Coke, his legs swinging, with a small bandage over this left eye. Nathan stood, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Hi, Miss Tolly.” Kirby gave her chagrined smile.

Her stomach churned. She became aware of the spike heels digging into her chest where she clutched her shoes and the pain in the ball of her right foot.

“You’re okay!” She let her shoes drop and threw her arms around him. “I swear I don’t care how noisy you are.”

“I’m noisy? Sorry. They gave me a shot for my headache. I’ll be sore and I’ll have a black eye but I don’t even have to miss practice. Also, I’m supposed have fried chicken and pecan pie later while I play Xbox. Also, I should be noisy.”

“Not true, Seven.” Nathan spoke for the first time. “You must have a head injury they didn’t find. They said you should watch game film and study your playbook. That’s the prescription.”

They were joking! She’d been through hell, buried Kirby three times, and they were joking about fried chicken and game film.

The room spun. She called on the ice. It wasn’t there.

“If you will pardon me, I’ll be right back.” On concrete block feet, she stepped out of the cubicle. It was miles and miles to the rest room. It must have taken her hours to get there. She locked herself in a stall, knelt in the floor, and began to cry and be sick all at one time. She cried and vomited until there was nothing left for her body to give. It was when she rose that she realized her feet were still bare.

Praying she was alone, she opened the stall door.

She wasn’t alone. Nathan stood leaning against the counter, just as he’d stood in Kirby’s examination room. It was as if he was a cardboard cutout that had been picked up and moved here. She had no fight in her right now, not even enough to
not
fight with him.

“You can’t come in here,” she said wearily.