I somehow forgot to mention Nickory’s presence to Jaye earlier. Mea culpa.
Jaye gives her a nod, her expression neutral. The warrior queen still carries herself with a regal bearing, but the power and confidence she used to emanate is considerably diminished. In all likelihood Nickerson will be the National Team’s goalkeeper again, but punching an opposing player has made her inclusion no sure thing. The uncertainty has taken a toll.
Nickory gives me her own neutral glance. “Can I talk to Jaye for a minute?”
I press my hand gently between my lover’s shoulder blades. “Your call.”
Jaye thinks for a second, then shrugs. “Sure.”
“I’ll get some fresh air,” I say. “Hunt me down when you’re finished.”
I turn away, spot a nearby balcony door, open it, and step into the mild winter night. I’m alone out here, and when I close the door I find blessed quiet. I take a deep breath and walk down past a few rows of seats to the railing, then stand there and gaze out at the empty soccer pitch.
I’m alone, but Jaye is nearby, so I’m exactly where I want to be. Whether she plays again or not, whether I ever write another word or not, my life is okay, and blessed, as long as she is with me.
Living, at long last, feels completely worthwhile.
I put my hands on the railing, a little staggered at the strength of this realization. Looking up, I find a star in the December sky and remember doing the same thing on a clear April night eight months ago. I thought my contentment then was happiness. No. Not even close. True happiness is so much more. I blink back tears, grateful and humbled that the Universe gave me the chance to discover this. Grateful, humble—and lucky.
The door opens behind me, and I feel Jaye’s presence. I don't turn around, but listen to her steps as she approaches. I smile as her arms slide around my waist. Gently she pulls me against her.
“Hey, Bogart,” Jaye murmurs into my ear, “all peopled out?”
I lean back into her embrace. “Yeah. How did it go with Nickory?”
“It went. We’ll talk again.”
“Be friends again?”
Jaye loosens her hold and turns me around, puts her hands on my cheeks and kisses me on the lips. “Maybe. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“You’re peopled out, too.”
“My knee more than anything.”
“We still have to find Rick and Becky, but then I think we’ve done our duty here.”
“Almost.”
“Almost?”
Now Jaye steps out of our embrace, though she takes my hand. “When my parents were here, before I got hurt, you told them you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life. Do you still feel that way?”
“Of course,” I say immediately, confusion taking root as I watch her free hand reach into her jacket pocket.
With a deft flick, she opens a small velvet box ensconced in her palm and presents it to me. I stare at the gold band within and am utterly speechless. The ring is almost identical to the one from Boston, right down to the Celtic pattern, and it gleams even in the low light coming from the party area.
“Good,” she says. “Because I want you around for the rest of my life. Will you marry me, Rachel Johnston?”
I literally cannot talk, I’m so moved. I gaze into Jaye’s hopeful face and as usual, get lost in her beautiful gray eyes. How wonderful it is to be in love, I think, to be in love with her.
I take my free hand and close my fingers over her palm and the ring, and finally, finally I manage the one all-important word.
“Yes.”
Jaye bursts into tears of happiness. She takes the ring, slides it onto my left ring finger, and kisses me.
“By the way,” she says, “gold is good in water. Never tarnishes, never gets rusty. You’ll never have to take it off.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Never?”
Enough light is reflected for Jaye to see I’m teasing her. “Never,” she says, firmly.
I pretend to ponder this. After a moment, I nod. “I’ll obey that on one condition.”
“What?”
From my pants pocket I pull out a little velvet box of my own. With somewhat less panache than Jaye, I manage to get the lid open, revealing a slimmer gold band, adorned with two white diamonds. “If I wear your gift to me, you wear mine to you.”
Jaye’s eyes widen. “You were going to propose, too?”
I give a tiny shrug. “I was going to wait ’til we got back to the hotel. But I think it’s okay to give this to you now?”
Jaye’s face goes radiant, a wonder I haven’t seen since summer began to fade. It’s my turn to take her left hand, slide the ring on. Before I can kiss her, though, she pulls me into a tight hug.
“I want to have a ceremony,” she says. “It doesn’t have to be big, but I want it out there for the world to see. I want everyone to know how happy you make me.”
“You’ll invite us, right?” The question comes from the direction of the door into the suite, and it startles both of us. I’m somewhat disconcerted to see Becky, Rick, Toni and Paula, Kirstie and Shawn, Wendy Allerton and this month’s flame, a couple of Irish players, and tonight’s match referee crowding outside to join us. Twenty or thirty people stand behind them. Cripes, is everyone still left at the party coming out to the balcony?
The match referee shouts, “She said yes!” The group erupts into cheers.
“I didn’t know they were there,” Jaye says, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?”
A year ago (heck, six months ago) I’d have been appalled that this—to me—private moment would have so many witnesses. A year ago I would have wanted to find a closet or a hole in the ground and burrow into it. A year ago I would likely have had a full-bore panic attack. But a year ago was another life.
I look into Jaye’s eyes, sharp with worry but full of love, too, and smile. “I guess we’ll have to have a big ceremony.”
The worry vanishes. Jaye grins. “You think this place will be available?”
“If not, I suppose there’s always Coors Field.”
Jaye laughs, turns and gives a thumbs-up to the onlookers. “You’re invited to the wedding!” she shouts.
The cheers sound again. Jaye wraps me in her arms and kisses me, and the crowd goes wild, their whistles and whoops and laughter echoing out across the stadium and the night. I kiss her back, then put my lips to her ear.
“I love you, Jaye,” I say, words for her alone.
Her hold on me tightens. “I love you, Rachel,” she whispers back. “Forever and ever.”
“Good,” I say, and we laugh, then break our hug, join hands, and start up the steps to the happy group of people we know and love, walking side by side toward the rest of our lives.
The End
Acknowledgments
Big, huge, massive, couldn’t-have-done-it-without-you thanks to: Lori Lake, publisher and editor supreme (and supremely patient), and Jill Owen, to whom I owe everything.
Big, huge, eternal gratitude to: Riley Adair Garrett, whose encourage-ment kept me plugging along; Lynda Sandoval, whose comments on an early draft of this novel helped make it much better; and Rachel Spangler, for agreeing to say nice things about the book in public (the name is strictly coincidence, I swear!).
More-than-honorable mentions to: Brian Cox (don’t blink or you’ll miss your cameo), Jaime Cox, Luca Hart, Lori Lindsey, Michelle Montee, Laura Shipley, and everyone and everything about Provincetown, Massachusetts.
Heartfelt thanks to pretty much everyone else I ever mentioned this book to. You all helped make it happen, and I hope you all enjoy the result.
To all the girls and women who play soccer, you have my undying admiration. (I’m a little jealous, too.) To those who play at the highest levels, be it the NWSL, Europe, Australia, or in international competition, you have both my admiration and my utmost respect. May you be able to keep doing what you do, and may your love of the game nev
er fade. (And may you someday be paid every penny you are worth.)
Jane Cuthbertson
November 2019
About The Author
Jane Cuthbertson was an air traffic controller in Colorado for 23 years. Since her retirement she has spent her time reading, writing, and traveling about the United States and Canada. She was lucky enough to attend several matches of the 2015 Women’s World Cup, including the final. Her love of women’s soccer will survive her, and its spirit will attend games long after she is gone. She currently lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest.
Jane’s Website:
www.JaneCuthbertson.com
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