The Winner's Game (18 page)

When I check over my shoulder, Cade is pointing at us. Bree, however, looks mad. She turns at once and stomps away.

When we get back to the house, Mom is standing on the deck with her hands on her hips. I figure Tanner might try to let go of my hand when we see her there, but he keeps on holding.

The first thing Mom says is, “Uh-oh…this looks like trouble.” I'm expecting her to be mad, but she seems more conflicted than anything. It's like she's happy for me and yet incredibly worried for my well-being. The second thing she says is, “Maybe Tanner should come over for dinner on Sunday and see what your father says about this.”

Dad is supposed to arrive sometime in the next hour, so after Tanner leaves, we all start preparing for his arrival. We haven't heard from him all week, and Mom seems a little on edge.

Is that what love does over time? Twenty years ago, did my mom feel butterflies when my dad held her hand? Did they laugh and talk like they'd known each other forever, even though they'd only just met? Then what happened? They kissed, got married, had kids, and suddenly forgot that they loved each other? Forgot how it felt when it first started?

I don't ever want that. If I live long enough to get married, I'll love that person fiercely, every single day. It may be someone else's heart that I have to use, but I'll love him with the whole of it…

L
AST FRIDAY WHEN
I spoke to Dell on the phone, I told him he needs to figure out how important our marriage is to him. It's Friday night again…and he's not here. Again.

I guess I know his answer.

It hurts just to think about it, so I'm trying not to. To avoid having a complete meltdown in front of the kids, I keep coming up with mental distractions.

At six o' clock I scrub the bathtub.

At six thirty I make a batch of cookies.

At seven I start on a crossword puzzle.

At seven fifteen I read the clue to 33 Down—
Spousal severance.
The answer is a six-letter word beginning with
D
.

When the answer—“divorce”—comes too quickly, I know it's time to find another distraction. “Kids, I'm going to see Grandma! Does anyone want to come?”

Bree and Ann are quick to decline my invitation, on account of already having seen her once today. I can see in Cade's eyes that he doesn't want to go either, but maybe he recognizes by my expression that I could really use the company. “Fine,” he mumbles. “If no one else will.”

It hasn't been a great week for Great-grandma. Yesterday she was so drugged that she could hardly open her eyes, and the day before that she was fully alert, yet couldn't remember who we were. When we arrive, the attending nurse explains that it's been another rough day. After dinner Grandma lost track of where she was and kept telling the staff she's in the wrong place and needs to be moved back to the farm. I can only guess that she is remembering her earlier life out in Pendleton.

When we enter her room, Grandma's eyes are open, but she looks worn out. “Hi there, Grandma,” I say softly. “How are you?”

There is no recognition in her eyes. Maybe a little curiosity, and definitely some fear, but no recognition. When she speaks, her mouth struggles to form the sounds. “I…I d-don…” And then she starts crying. Not bawling. There isn't even any sound. Just a tear or two meandering down through her wrinkles. “I d-don…know you.”

“It's Emily. Your granddaughter.”

“Do you know th' f-f-arm? I wan' to go.”

Now a tear drops down my face too. “It's OK, Grace. Just rest. You're safe here.”

Within a minute, Grandma Grace closes her eyes.

We sit there in silence at her bedside for fifteen or twenty minutes, during which time she opens her eyes several times, looks around wildly, and then closes them again. Once I'm sure that she's actually asleep, I reach up and caress her hands. Then my tears really start to flow. Seeing Grandma like this is hard; she's always been my anchor in life, and now her boat is drifting away. I want so much to get her advice. I long to hear her say, like she has a thousand times before, “It'll be all right, Emily, just you wait and see.”

I know she can't hear me, but I desperately need a sounding board, so I give Cade a few dollars and send him to find a vending machine so I can have a few minutes alone with her. “You know you've always been my hero, Grandma, right? I've always looked up to you in every way. You were there when my mother passed, and you took me under your wing and tended me like I was your own. You spent so much time caring for me that I never thought to consider that you were suffering too, over losing your daughter.” I rub her hand some more, then wipe at a pesky tear. “You and Grandpa were my angels back then. I wanted to grow up and be just like you. I wanted the marriage, the family, the perfect life you had. And now…? Now I might lose it all. That's what I've dreamed of all these years, just having the kind of love that you shared with Grandpa—the kind that would go on forever and ever. For a while, I thought I had that. For years I was absolutely sure that I was on the same path as you. I thought it would be so easy…but then life got in the way.”

A few seconds tick by in silence. In the vacancy, I continue fiddling with Grandma's coarse fingernails and bony knuckles. Then I feel her flinch, and she clasps my hands. It catches me by surprise, but I don't pull away. I squeeze back, and when I do, Grandma's eyes suddenly open, just a sliver. “Don't give up, Em,” she whispers, plain as day. “It'll be all right.” As soon as she says it, Grandma's eyes fall closed again.

I'm crying profusely, but smiling. She didn't say much, but for tonight, it is enough.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I say just before Cade returns with a half-eaten Snickers bar.

As we exit the room, Cade asks the one question that's been constantly on my mind since we left the house. “Do you think Dad is there yet?”

“I hope so, Cade,” I reply honestly. “I really hope so.”

Five minutes later, when we pull up to the house, Cade is the first to assess the situation when he casually says, “Nope.”

I know just what he means, and it splinters the pieces of my breaking heart.

Dell still isn't there.

W
HEN I'M WORKING
on homework or something, I frequently tune people out. I just get in that zone, you know, where the rest of the world evaporates. Painting the living room walls is nothing like homework, except that the entire family is in the zone—or zoned out—which is probably why none of us hears the front door open or close when Dad arrives on Saturday morning. All of a sudden he is just sort of there, with his hands in his pockets, watching us work.

At first I don't even realize he's behind me. The thing that makes me turn around is when Mom stops rolling her roller and stares, unblinking, past my shoulder. “You came,” she says, choking on the words.

Immediately, everyone stops what they're doing. Bree and I back up two steps so we aren't right between them.

Cade drops his angled brush down in the bucket near his feet.

“Did you think I wouldn't?”

“I thought you'd be here last night. Or at least call.”

His hands remain in his pockets, but he motions to the bedroom. “Should we go talk in private?”

“No,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. “I want to hear too.” I glance quickly back and forth between my parents. “I was…on the phone last week, the last time you talked. I heard everything.”

“I see,” says Dad, not seeming too surprised at my eavesdropping.

“So if what you're going to say to Mom is bad news, then I want to know too, because whatever happens with you and Mom affects all of us. Besides, these walls are paper-thin, so we'll probably hear the whole conversation anyway.”

He looks at me with apologetic eyes. “Very well, in front of everyone, then.” He glances at Bree and Cade, then he focuses again on Mom. “Here's the deal. I got out of work early last night, thinking I'd come straight over in time for supper. But when I got in the car, I just felt like I needed more time to think. So I went home. I'd have called, but I didn't know what I'd say.” He takes a deep breath. “It was a very long night, Emily, but I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” she asks.

“You said not to come until I figured out how important our marriage is to me, and what you're worth to me.”

“And?”

“And…I'm here. Whatever has happened to drive a wedge between us, I want to figure out a way to remove it. I don't know how, or how long it will take, but I want to try.”

“Me too,” she whispers. “Except…I might have an idea of where to begin.”

In my mind, a hug or a kiss might be a nice place to start, but I'm sure she's referring to the Winner's Game.

Dad pulls one hand out of his pocket and holds up a piece of paper. “Maybe we start here.”

“What is that?”

With a growing smile, he says, “A vacation request form for the next two weeks. My boss signed it last night. It'll use up every day I have left for the rest of the year, but I think, given the circumstances, it's a good investment of my time.”

“Thank you, Dell.” Mom is trying to hide her emotions, but there is an unmistakable wisp of a smile playing at her lips. “That means a lot to me.”

Dad nods, then addresses the rest of us. “So, what's new, guys? What did I miss? Cade, did you find any more treasure yet?”

“Nope. Ann found a boyfriend, though.”

While I let out a small yelp, my dad nearly chokes. Mom laughs. Bree frowns.

“He's not my boyfriend! Yes, he's a boy, but…we're just friends.”

Cade's not done throwing me under the bus. “Then why did you hold his hand?”

“Whoa, hold on a second,” says Dad, waving his hands. “Ann, I'm gone two weeks and now you're off holding hands with strangers?”

“He's not a stranger to me. We hang out every day.”

“What! You can't start relationships with guys this summer. Given your situation, it's irresponsible. You know that.”

“Well, I did.”

“But you can't, and that's all there is to it.” He looks over at my mom. “Emily? How could you let this happen?”

Naturally, that comment doesn't sit well with her. It takes about half a second for her mood to turn south. “So it's my fault? What was I supposed to do, Dell, lock her in the closet? She's seventeen years old.”

“Oh, so you approve of this?”

“Of course not! I tried to dissuade her too. She wouldn't listen.”

“That's true,” I say, hoping to take some of the heat off Mom. “She did. And I wouldn't.”

Dad shakes his head in frustration. “I can't believe this. I expected that you'd at least keep her safe while I was away working. Was that too much to ask?”

“Don't go there, Dell.”

“Well weren't you the adult around here? How could you let our teenage daughter set the rules?”

“There's no rule against me having friends,” I point out.

Dad rolls his eyes, almost as well as Bree. “You don't hold hands with friends.”

I knew we'd eventually have this argument…just didn't want it to be the moment he walked in the door.
“There are no rules against boyfriends either! I'm just trying to have a normal life here, and having a friend like Tanner is not abnormal. What's the big deal?”

“You are waiting for a
transplant
! That's a big deal! You're so close, and this is just one more distraction that could get in the way of that, or put you at greater risk.”

In frustration, I throw my hands in the air. “How, Dad? Explain it to me. How is having a boyfriend going to put me at risk?”

He shakes his head again, then pauses to breathe. “This is your first relationship. Do you know what happens with every first relationship? Sooner or later, they fall apart. Trust me, Ann, I was a teenager once too. It'll be lots of fun for a while, and then something will happen and he'll break your heart. And sweetie…you don't need another broken heart right now.”

“And she's not even telling him the truth, Dad,” Bree chimes in. “He doesn't know about you-know-what.” She points at her own chest.

Oh, that rotten little jealous weasel!
“Shut up, Bree!”

Dad's shoulders sink. “Seriously, Ann? You didn't even tell him the most important thing about you?”

“That's not the most important thing about me.”

“Until we find a donor it most certainly is!” Dad looks exasperated. “Emily, how could you let her do this? She has to at least tell him the truth, right?”

“Again, don't go there, Dell. Don't pin this on me. I told her the same thing you're telling her now, but she wouldn't listen. She's stubborn…
like her father
.”

Dad's jaw is clenched tight. “Well, if I'd been here, and she wouldn't tell him, I'd have told him myself.”

Mom crosses her arms. “Great. You'll have your chance tomorrow night, because he's coming for dinner.”

“You're not telling him, Dad! It'll ruin everything.”

But he doesn't back down. “Either you tell him or I will.” He says it with an unmistakable finality, signaling the end of the discussion.

I can feel my eyes welling up with moisture, then a big drop plummets onto my cheek. As I cross the room to the stairs, I belt out the one thing that I know will sting, even if I don't mean it: “I wish you'd just stayed in Portland! We'd all be better off!”

I
T'S TWENTY MINUTES
after five o'clock on Sunday evening, and there are about a million things I'd rather be doing right now than standing in front a mirror, changing my shirt…
again
. It's the fourth such wardrobe change in thirty minutes.

Emily has been relatively quiet since I arrived yesterday. At first she seemed genuinely happy to see me, but then the whole Tanner topic came up, and the moment sort of unraveled.

I still can't believe she let Ann start a relationship with some punk at the local candy shop!

At any rate, Emily seems to find my wardrobe changes amusing, since she's usually the one who can't decide what to wear.
Oh well, at least she's not frowning in my presence, so maybe things are looking up.

“You know he's not coming to see
you
, right?”

“Just want to make sure he knows who's the boss, that's all.”

“And a Seahawks jersey will tell him that?” When I flex my biceps in the mirror, she laughs openly. It's good to hear her laugh, even if she's laughing
at
me rather than with me. “That's it, Dell. Show him those guns of yours tonight. That'll send him running for cover.”

I honestly don't mind the ribbing. I know perfectly well that I'm making a big deal about having a teenage boy in the house for dinner. But I'm the only one in the family who knows exactly what that boy's intentions are with my daughter. After all, I too was a seventeen-year-old boy once. “Oh I will. And if I had real guns, I'd flash those too. What kind of father would I be if this kid leaves here tonight thinking I'm just some pushover?” I look at myself in the mirror again and scowl menacingly. “How's this?”

“If you're going for Dirty Harry, you nailed it.”

“Excellent. I think I'm ready.” I flex once more for good measure.

“I better warn Ann what she's in for,” she mutters on her way upstairs.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings, and I make sure I'm the one to answer. As I wipe my palms on my jeans and prepare to open the front door, my mind wanders back to the day that Ann was born. We thought we were having a boy, so when she showed up without a Y chromosome, my whole outlook on fatherhood abruptly changed. Rather than thinking of myself as the preparer of a future man, I was suddenly the protector
from
future men. For seventeen years I've been gearing up to dissuade would-be suitors, and now the moment is finally here for me to fulfill my charge as a father.

I squint once more like Dirty Harry, then pull on the doorknob. “Hello.”

“Hey, what's up? I'm Tanner. Is Ann here?”

“What's up?” Who says that?
I offer him a barely audible sound in the affirmative, then motion for him to come in.

“You a Seahawks fan?” he asks, pointing at the jersey.

Instinctively, I flex my chest, hoping to fill the jersey out a little more. Then I nod and give a carefully articulated grunt.

I can see in Ann's eyes that she is fully embarrassed by my performance, but that's OK. I'm sure she'll thank me someday, years from now when she has the luxury of checking her pulse just for the fun of it. For now, though, she shakes her head and steps forward to greet Tanner with a hug.

A hug! Right in front of me!

After the hug, Emily and Cade both greet him with a wave. Bree is at the back of the pack, and she either has something in her eye or she's batting her eyes at him.

Oh great…now I have TWO teenage daughters to protect from this young man.

Ann must have seen it too, because she steps in before Bree can get two words in edgewise. “Sorry for the big welcome, Tanner. You're our first dinner guest here this summer, so everyone's kind of excited.”

“Not everyone,” I mumble softly enough that Tanner can't hear.

“Nah, it's cool. You have an awesome family.”

“Well, I think my mom has dinner all ready. Do you want to follow me to the kitchen?”

The single-file parade to the kitchen table makes me think of a funeral procession. At first the thought amuses me, like maybe the presence of this pestering teenage boy will be the death of me. But then I realize that the person at the front of the line—the hearse, as it were—is Ann, and suddenly it isn't so funny.

Emily catches me stalling at the tail of the line and holds back to speak to me. “C'mon, Dell. Give him a chance. He's really not so bad.”

“That's just a ruse. Trust me.”

“Oh, relax. This is just one little dinner.”

Trying to smile, I explain, “I just don't like the thought of our little girl growing up, and one little dinner could be the gateway to adulthood.”

Her mood turns instantly serious. “She should be so lucky.”

I don't have a good comeback, so I give a little grunt, turn on a tough scowl, and follow her into the kitchen.

For most of the meal I just sit there listening to and watching the various interactions with Tanner at the dinner table. Everyone has questions for him, but they all ask them in such different ways, and likely for very different purposes. Emily's questions are short and sweet, but always seem intended as lead-ins to say something flattering about Ann. Cade is just glad to have another guy in the house, so when he speaks up, it is usually to further establish the fact that they share a common bond: They aren't girls.
Then there is Bree, whose every syllable has but one obvious objective:
to make Tanner notice
her
instead of Ann.

During dessert Tanner turns the tables by asking a question of his own.
Of me.

“Mr. Bennett, what do you like about being a lawyer?”

Think Dirty Harry thoughts!
“Well…I suppose I just really get a rush seeing criminals get what they deserve. Do you know how many punks your age I've helped put behind bars for…oh, I don't know…curfew violations, public displays of affection, things of that nature?”

“You're a corporate lawyer, Dad,” chimes in Ann, “not a criminal prosecutor. And those aren't criminal offenses anyway.”

“OK, fine. But I do have friends who are district attorneys.
Two of them
. And they can both do background checks on
anybody
I want. Plus I've got a cousin who's a police officer.” I purposefully narrow my focus on Tanner. “A gun-carrying, law-enforcing police officer.” I hesitate long enough for that to sink in, then add, “Just saying.”

“You're embarrassing yourself,” Ann tells me flatly.

“And us,” echoes Bree.

I readily admit that I would
love
for Tanner to be petrified, but despite my unveiled threats, the kid seems as calm as can be, just sitting there smiling like he's enjoying the show. “Mr. Bennett, I get the impression that you're maybe a little nervous about me being here tonight. Hey, I totally get it.”

Teenage chump say what
?
“You do?”

“Yeah. I talked to my dad last night on the phone, and he warned me this could happen. See, you're a father of a teenage daughter. Well, two of them actually, and you probably just want to keep them safe, so teenage boys are bound to make you nervous. My dad says that's just normal protective-dad stuff.”

I'm completely speechless.

“If I were in your shoes, I'd be overprotective too.”

“Overpro—? You would?”

“Of course. And based on what my dad said, I took the liberty of collecting some character references for you, hopefully to put you at ease.” He slips a hand in his rear pocket and produces a neatly folded paper, which he slides across the table. “I hope with these you'll feel OK about me going on a date with your daughter.”

Just like that, my jaw drops right to the table. From the corner of my eye, I see Ann's mouth hanging open too, but in a good way.

I quickly unfold the paper and scan through several names and titles: a pastor, a scoutmaster, a teacher, and yes…a police officer.

While my mind and sight are stuck on the paper in my hands, from across the table I hear Bree ask, “Which daughter?”

“Bree!” Emily chides.

“What?” Bree replies, playing innocent. “I'm old enough to date.”

“You turn fourteen in August,” I remind her. “You've got a couple years of dreaming yet before that happens.”

All eyes return to Tanner, who is smiling graciously. “I think you're great, Bree, but I actually meant Ann.” He turns to his immediate right. “I planned to ask you in private, but since it came up…would you like to go on a date with me? Like, not just hanging out. A real date. On Wednesday. My mom says I can borrow her car.” He quickly turns back to me. “Which she says I have to have parked back in the driveway by ten thirty.”

The flame of Bree's excitement is immediately doused.

Ann, however, is floating on cloud nine. “I would love to! Dad? Mom? I can go, right?”

Emily and I look at each other for a second, sharing an entire conversation in a glance.

“Is that a yes?” Ann asks eagerly.

“Well, I'll have to make sure these references check out…”

“Dell,” warns Emily, chastising me with my own name.

“Fine,” I tell Ann reluctantly. “But you know the rules, Ann. Tell him, and you can go.”

Her face turns ashen white, then bright red in record time.

“Oh, this should be good,” states Bree sarcastically. “Hey Tanner, don't forget about me after you hear what Ann has to tell you.”

Before Bree even finishes her sentence, Emily shoots up out of her chair and points to the hallway. “Bree Grace Bennett! Straight to your room. And don't even think about coming back down! I'll be up to talk to you later.”

“You can consider me part of that conversation too, young lady,” I growl, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”

There is a long, uncomfortable silence after Bree leaves, with everyone sort of looking around wondering who is going to say what next.

Ann eventually breaks the ice. “Tanner…there's, um…something I guess I need to talk to you about.”

“I gathered that. Did I do something wrong?” For the first time all evening he seems totally out of his element.

Excellent!

She shakes her head. “No. Nobody did. But…we just need to talk, that's all.” Ann holds his gaze for a moment longer, then looks across the table at Emily and me. “I want to talk to him alone. I can do that, right?”

Emily and I speak to each other again with our eyes and then nod.

When Ann turns back to Tanner, she reaches down and takes his hand in hers, which makes me cringe. “Come on,” she tells him as she pulls him to his feet. “Let's go outside.”