Playing at Love

by Ophelia London

  “You have no reason to be.” Tess sat at her side. “We rehearse a lot to make sure everyone feels totally prepared for performance days. As you know, the choir performs the halftime show at every home game and the odd assembly and pep rally. The rehearsal schedule is a killer, so think hard about it. If this is something you really want, go home tonight, discuss it with your parents, and we can talk about it tomorrow.”

  Tess intentionally hadn’t glamorized the choir to Penny. It was a lot of work, and she didn’t want to regret putting all her eggs in Penny’s basket if the girl wasn’t up to it.

  Penny didn’t move for a few moments, but then she slowly lifted her face. “I’ll get to wear the show choir costumes?” she asked, her eyes lighting up again. “And the fun makeup?”

  Tess laughed. “All of that. Let me find the permission slip.”

  As Tess walked toward her office, she passed by the window that looked out to the open courtyard. In about two minutes, it would be swarming with students eating lunch in groups. But right now, it was still empty. Except, Tess noted as she halted, for one figure.

  It was Jack, probably walking from the gym back to the main campus. Right under her window, he stopped and bent over to pick up an empty soda can someone had forgotten. Instead of depositing it in the trash can near the wall, he took a small step back, faked a turn, then shot it into the trash can like a basketball.

  Oh, good golly, he was cute.

  She was surprised when suddenly he looked up and waved at her. Crap. Caught.

  What should she do? It was too late to crouch to the floor or duck behind the blinds. So, she waved back. And for a moment, they just looked at each other.

  “I was going to major in science next year,” Penny said. Tess gasped and swung around. Penny was chewing on her thumbnail. “But I don’t love science like I love singing.”

  Tess tucked some hair behind her ear and walked to her office for the forgotten permission slip. “Have you thought about studying music in college?” she asked, ignoring the slight racing of her heart.

  “That’s, like, my ultimate dream,” Penny said when Tess returned and sat beside her. “All I’ve ever wanted was to get into the musical theater program at NYU. But…” She glanced away for a moment. “But my dad lost his job last month and Mom is still stationed in Iraq and things have been so crazy at home. I got accepted to general studies, but I can only go if I get help. Do you think I have a chance?”

  Tess could only smile, calling to mind at least three local foundations that offered scholarships in the arts. Once they heard Penny’s story, she’d be a shoo-in.

  “Penny,” Tess said, “if we win at Regionals and you want NYU’s music program, I think you’ll get it.”

  …

  “This is complete BS!”

  Jack couldn’t agree more, even though he knew he wouldn’t voice his opinion yet. The team had its first game on Friday. He needed to show leadership and strength—not anger.

  “Look,” Jack said, standing up and walking to the front of his desk to face his four main assistant coaches. They normally weren’t due at the gym until later, but Jack had called them in early. They needed to hear the news from him firsthand.

  So far, they weren’t exactly taking it well.

  “This is a great school,” Jack said, “and we’ve been practicing with the varsity team over the last four weeks of summer. Some of these kids show real promise. I think we have a shot.”

  “A shot at what?” Buck, the defensive coach, asked.

  “A shot at what Walker wants,” he said. “Winning at least four of our first six games.” A few of the other coaches huffed under their breath at this. Jack folded his arms. “You think that’s funny?”

  “Coach,” Buck said, “this is one of the toughest divisions in the whole state. We’re up against schools that have championship legacies. The last bunch of seasons, we didn’t even break five hundred!” Buck leaned back in his chair with a huff.

  Jack thought he seemed very…how had Tess put it? Like a good ol’ boy? She’d been so angry when she’d said that. Angry at him. Angry yet stunning, he had to admit. Yet she hadn’t looked angry when she’d waved to him from the window before lunch. Just stunning.

  He clenched his jaw and gazed past Buck toward the window. Now was not the time to be thinking about Tess.

  “Well,” Jack said, trying to breathe calmly, “if we want to keep our jobs, we’re going to have to do better than that.” He squared his shoulders and walked to the chalkboard in the corner. “Gentlemen,” he said, picking up a piece of chalk, “I helped lead three teams to the championships. I know how it’s done. And frankly, we don’t really have a choice. Agreed?”

  The coaches glanced at one another, unsure, but then nodded at their leader.

  Jack grinned. “Great.” He tossed Buck a binder with the team roster inside. “Now, let’s build us a winning team, boys.”

  After forty-five minutes, the chalkboard was covered in names, most of which had been crossed out. Jack held his hand over his closed eyes, massaging his temples.

  “Coach?” Danny, his special teams coach, stood up. “May I?”

  He and Danny had hung out a few times after practice over the summer. Jack was slowly getting to know him, and he trusted the special teams coach, trusted his opinion. Even though Jack was the man’s boss, he was starting to look to Danny as a mentor, someone to bounce important ideas off of.

  “Of course,” Jack said.

  “I’ve been coaching for ten years,” Danny said. He tossed his empty Styrofoam cup in the trash. “I grew up here, played gunner all four years.”

  Jack hadn’t realized that Danny was a local. Maybe he’d gone through school with Tess. Had they grown up in the same neighborhood? Luckily, he stopped himself just as he was about to ask such a ridiculous question.

  “So I believe in this team more than anyone,” Danny was saying, “but I think we have to consider that we might not be able to win. We just don’t have the talent.”

  Jack had a sick feeling in his stomach, knowing this was probably true. But he also understood morale—how important it was for both players and coaches. They could not go into this season with low expectations.

  His head started to throb again. “We play Arlington on Friday, right?” he asked.

  Danny grabbed a clipboard and ran a finger down the first line. “That’s right.”

  Jack nodded at this. “Has anyone checked out their practices?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “So we really have no idea what we’re up against.”

  Another hour passed as the coaches discussed and dissected their team. Several students and players came into Jack’s office to drop off and pick up forms, or to just say hello on their way to the weight room. It wasn’t until the beginning of sixth period that Jack tossed his latest crumpled-up paper into the trash and stood.

  “Any other ideas?”

  “Folks around here love this team,” Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Strong alumni, local fan base. Ticket sales have been down because of the losing streak, but this town loves football, always has. There was a time when Friday nights revolved around this team. I think if they knew our program was in trouble, the community would rally. We just need to tap into that.”

  Jack shook his head. “We need to win,” he said, mostly to himself. “Somehow. But thanks, Danny, you make a good point.” He moved to the window and stared out to the field. It was green and clean, just waiting for his boys to burst out of the locker room and tear it up.

  He smiled, remembering how much he’d loved playing football as a kid with his dad and brothers. He’d been pretty good in high school, too, but didn’t get really strong until his senior year. With the help of a great offensive coach, he’d gone from third-string quarterback to first string. Then on to college. If he hadn’t torn up his shoulder that second year, he might’ve gone even further. But then he never would have met Susan at his physical therapi
st’s office, and there would have never been Jenna—his heaven, the light of his life, the sweet prayer in his sometimes-chaotic world.

  Prayer? Jack thought, looking up to the blue sky.

  “Hail Mary,” he whispered to himself, then turned around to his coaching staff. “I learned a few Hail Mary plays over the years, and I’ve drafted some of my own that I’ve never run.” He rocked his jaw, thinking. “They’re pretty unconventional,” he added a moment later, “but I know they’ll work.”

  The other coaches looked at one another then sat forward in their chairs, leaning toward their new and suddenly very enthusiastic leader.

  Jack erased the blackboard and grabbed a fresh piece of chalk. “Here is what I have in mind,” he said, drawing a vertical line of five Xs. “Tell me what you think.”

  Chapter Four

  Tess sat in her car for a few minutes with the engine off and the windows down. Her parents’ house hadn’t changed much in the twenty-nine years they’d lived there. Jim, her father, had painted the outside every so often, but always the same color of pinkish-brown.

  While staring at the tree with that one low-hanging branch—the one that used to have a tire swing hanging from it—Tess felt a lump in her throat. So many happy memories here. How could she tell her parents that they may lose their home after all?

  After her dad’s second knee surgery, her parents had refinanced. Then there was the new roof and the flood damage from the year before. Keeping a forty-year-old house held together on a teacher’s pension plan was becoming quite an expense for her folks. That’s when Tess had stepped in. She had promised, had sworn to herself that they wouldn’t have to sell. Her brother Charlie was chipping in his deployment pay, too, but it was barely enough. For now, it was all Tess could do to pay her own rent while providing what she could to repair the house where she grew up—the house they all loved like a member of the family.

  Sighing, she rolled up her windows and grabbed the door handle. Parked in the driveway behind her father’s blue Toyota that he’d driven forever, she had a clear view through the front window. She saw her mother bustling around the kitchen and could practically smell the pot roast or pork chops that she usually made for their weekly family dinner. Tess smiled, but then her stomach twisted with dread again.

  What was she going to do? What could she tell them? She was relieved that she at least had a plan now with Penny. But still, could Tess really allow the future of her parents’ home to rest on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old? For now, she had no other choice…unless Jack Marshall suddenly decided to throw in the towel.

  Ha! Not likely. She’d seen that gleam in his eyes when they’d met with Walker that morning. There was no way; men were too competitive. Especially when it came to sports. Speaking of—she couldn’t help picturing him doing that little basketball move in the courtyard at lunch. He was too adorable. And she’d just stood there and waved to him like a goon. She should have—

  Ugh! Stop it, Tess!

  Annoyed all over again, Tess climbed out of her car, smoothed down the front of her shirt, and walked across the driveway to the front door.

  “Hey!” she called after stepping inside. Pot roast. She’d guessed right. “Mom?” Tess kicked off her heels and dropped her bag and keys on the chair by the door.

  “In here,” Mom called back. “Your father is in his den. Tell him we’re almost ready.”

  “Okay.” Tess changed direction and headed toward her father’s office. She passed by her old bedroom, and then paused in front of the next entryway. “Dad?” she said, tapping before pushing the door open. Her father was sitting at his desk with his back to her. When Tess called to him again, he swiveled around, his hundred-year-old chair grinding from want of oil.

  “Hey there, Peanut,” he said as a smile spread across his face. “How was the first day?” He turned back to his computer to shut down whatever program he had running.

  Tess opened her mouth to answer, but then quickly covered it with a hand to mask a fake cough, making a split-second decision not to tell her parents about the budget cuts tonight. She wanted to have one more evening of peace; there was no reason to worry them.

  “Oh,” Tess finally said, “busy, disorganized, exciting, great. You know.”

  Her dad stood up. “Yes, I remember those days all too well.” He spread his arms and Tess leaned into his hug, feeling about twelve years old and in desperate need of fatherly advice. As she pulled back, she quickly adjusted her expression.

  Or so she thought. “Anything the matter?” he asked, looking down at her with observant eyes.

  Tess pushed out her bottom lip. “No. Just the normal first day of school exhaustion and pondering of why I ever decided to go into teaching in the first place.”

  “I remember those days, too.” Dad winked. “Well, let me know if you need anything. I’m always here to help.”

  Tess felt tears prickle behind her eyes. She turned away. “Mom probably needs your help,” she said as they walked down the hall. “I think your skill with opening a pickle jar might be requested at any moment.” He chuckled behind her, and she relaxed.

  On her way to the kitchen, Tess stopped in the living room where the mahogany upright piano sat. She’d learned to play on that very instrument. Who knew how many scales had been pounded onto those poor keys that were so chipped and well loved? Tess leaned a hip against it, wondering how long it would be before the news got out about the budget cuts—Walker had promised they would have at least a day. She didn’t know how her parents would handle it. They might have to foreclose. But Tess wouldn’t allow that, not while there was still a breath left in her body. She tinkled the two top keys before heading for the kitchen.

  “Pull it out of the oven, Jim,” her mom was saying. “No, with the pot holder. And put it over there. No, there. Tess, help your father, would you?” Tess’s mother had both hands full: one was holding a freezer bag of peas and the other was gripping a small saucepan.

  “What else do you need, Mom?” Tess asked, rushing to her father’s aid.

  “The roast needs to come out of the oven before the potatoes burn. And the cake needs to go in.”

  “Why are we having cake?”

  “Why not?” the back of Mom’s head replied. “Isn’t it impolite not to serve cake?”

  “Since when?” Tess asked, removing the heavy baking dish from the oven and setting it on a cool stove burner. “Is that something you read in Emily Post from seventy years ago?”

  “Propriety never goes out of style,” Mom said, finally turning toward her.

  “Now I know that’s something you read,” she said, leaning in to give her mother a kiss on the cheek.

  Her mom ran a hand through her short brown curls. “Well, your father and I don’t entertain like we used to,” she said. “So let me set a nice table once a week, won’t you, sweetie?”

  “Of course,” Tess said with a smile. “But don’t allow me to have more than one piece of cake; I didn’t run this morning.”

  “I’ll send the rest home with you.” Before Tess could protest, she held up a hand. “For you to take to school tomorrow. I can’t have cake lying around here, either. I’ve been married to a schoolteacher for thirty-five years,” she said, glancing toward Tess’s dad. “I know how treats in the lounge are appreciated.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Tess reached over to turn down the pan of boiling water meant for the peas. “So, where is Charlie?”

  “He said he was running late and might not make it.” Mom shook her head. “Your brother…”

  “What?” Tess asked, noting the smile on her mother’s mouth.

  “He said he’s thinking of reenlisting.”

  “What?” Tess’s stomach dropped to the floor like a brick. “Since when? I thought he was going civilian after another year.”

  Dad came up behind them. “You know how much he loves it. He was promoted again. I think he’s heading to Hawaii next year—”

  “No,” Mom cut in
, “it’s after this next leave.”

  “No, not that soon,” Dad said, shaking his head.

  “Well, anyway,” Mom said, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder, “he’s thinking of staying in. I guess that’s all we really know.”

  Tess nodded, but her mind was spinning. She knew how much her brother loved being in the Army, but she hadn’t thought he would make a career out of it. How would they have enough money to keep the house if she lost her job? “So, how was your first day?” her mother asked.

  “Fine,” Tess said, grabbing for a spoon, trying to look busy.

  “You sure nothing happened? Tess, honey, what are you doing?”

  Tess looked down and realized she’d been manically stirring a pot full of nothing but water.

  “Peanut,” Dad said, extracting the spoon from her hand. “What’s the matter?”

  Tess bit her lip, knowing they could probably see it trembling. If it was going to be out in the open in a matter of hours anyway, she might as well spill.

  “Mom, Dad,” she said after a deep inhale. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  …

  Jack picked up the last piece of pizza, reminding himself that he really needed to go to the grocery store tomorrow. That was one thing he missed about being married. Not that Susan had done all their shopping, but splitting the household chores had been a huge bonus. In the five years since their divorce, he still hadn’t gotten back into the routine of being a bachelor. He’d always been good at paying the bills and taking the trash out, but now he was lucky if there was more than a bottle of ketchup in the fridge. Cooking used to be one of his ways to relax, but he hadn’t had the occasion in quite a while.

  While chewing the last remains of what could barely qualify as “dinner,” his mind replayed the last part of his day. Practice had gone well. While there wasn’t a huge amount of talent, the boys were eager and willing to learn. There were a few decent runners with good hands and the first-string quarterback wasn’t bad. The defensive line was definitely their weak spot, Jack thought as he scooted back from the table and stood up.