Caitlin's Hero

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Caitlin's Hero Page 9

by Donna Gallagher


  At one point, Brodie had passed the ball on to someone else—though Caitlin didn’t know how, since he’d seemed to be engulfed by the opposition—and that player had run and put the ball down for a try. Caitlin had felt a surge of pride for her wild, strong man, knowing it was because of him the team was winning. It had seemed a bit brutal to her eyes, but Riley hadn’t shared her concerns. He’d jumped up and down and cheered loudly for Brodie every time he’d been involved in the action. JT had looked even bigger and scarier in football gear, and strong as he’d pounded the other team’s players into the ground. It was obvious both of these men enjoyed what they did for a living.

  During the game the phone rang a few times, but Caitlin hadn’t been able to tear herself away from the TV so she’d let it ring out, thinking it was likely to be someone selling something she couldn’t afford anyway. Her eyes had been glued to the action taking place on the little television screen.

  Caitlin was brimming with energy after the game had ended. She could hardly believe that she had a date just the next evening with such a talented and obviously famous man. The voices that had commentated on the game had just kept raving on about James this and James that. She didn’t know what they’d meant when they’d said he would be excused for his one blemish because he was such an inspiration to so many. She really hadn’t understood much of what the voices had said throughout the whole game. Riley hadn’t known what they meant about a blemish either and that had surprised her, as her brother seemed to be a wealth of information about Brodie James.

  Trying to come back down from the clouds, Caitlin focused on some housework. Noticing the garbage bin was full, she asked Riley to tie up the bag and put it in one of the wheelie bins outside. As usual, Riley grumbled, but to his credit headed off to attend to the task. Caitlin had just turned on the vacuum cleaner when the phone started ringing again. Remembering that she had ignored a few calls during the game, she was starting to get a little worried that it could be important.

  “Hello, Caitlin speaking.”

  A male voice replied but she couldn’t quite make out the words he was saying.

  “Just hold on a sec, I didn’t quite catch what you said. Just let me stop this noise,” she shouted as she stomped on the button to shut the machine off. As silence filled the room, Caitlin returned her attention to the phone and asked the caller to repeat what he had said.

  “This is Jack Edwards. I’m a reporter from the Sydney Age. I was hoping to get a quote from you in regards to today’s story on Brodie James. Were you aware of his marital status before you had relations with him, before he started fondling you in public?”

  Caitlin’s blood turned to ice. Her heart clenched painfully and tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to the caller. His questions and tone were so rude—disgusting. She couldn’t find her voice to answer that no, she hadn’t realised Brodie James was married.

  She remembered well the beautiful, blonde woman who had sat next to Brodie at the fundraising night, but had never asked him who she was. Caitlin had just assumed that the woman was with someone else after the way Brodie had kissed her out in the car park. She felt very guilty for kissing and dining with another woman’s husband, making dates with him in the future and so much more.

  Suddenly, it was clear to her how foolish she had been. As if a man like Brodie James would ever think she was anything more than a bit on the side. Realising she still held the phone to her ear, she slammed the handset back into its cradle. Almost as it hit the disconnect button, the phone came to life again. Caitlin reached down and pulled the phone socket from its connection in the wall, silencing the horrible bringer of such devastating news.

  “My God,” she cried. “How am I going to tell Riley what I’ve done, and why we can never see Brodie James again?”

  Caitlin heard the door open and turned to see Riley standing there, just staring at her from the doorway. There was something terribly wrong with her brother. He was as white as a ghost. Slowly he lifted his arm and she realised that, in his trembling hand, he was holding some sort of newspaper.

  “Sis, I hate him! I really hate him! Why did he do this to you? I thought he was a good guy, but I hate him now and I wish he would just die,” Riley shouted, then broke down sobbing as tears began streaming down his face. The hand that was not holding the paper was clenched, knuckles white, by his side.

  Caitlin reached for the paper Riley was still holding out to her. As she did so, she noticed June and a girl with spiky, dark hair had also entered the small flat.

  As if in slow motion, Caitlin brought the paper up to read. The photo hit her first. It was a shock seeing herself in such a provocative pose. All sense of reason and reality deserted her, and she even caught herself registering how gorgeous Brodie looked—as always—in the candid shot. Caitlin remembered how being in his arms had made her feel after she had thrown herself at him for the second time. And it had been the same again the other night. Her last thought as she finished reading the article was, I’m a slut. Caitlin sank to the floor, sobbing as emotion and grief overwhelmed her, and covered her eyes with her hands as she tried to block out the reality that had descended on her.

  When Caitlin opened her swollen eyes, she found June kneeling in front of her. June reached out and took her hand, encouraging her up from the floor and suggesting she should have a lie down on the sofa for a few moments, to recover from the shock.

  “I didn’t know he was married. He didn’t tell me.” Caitlin whimpered. “We really only kissed and stuff. I didn’t make love to him all the way,” she whispered, so that Riley wouldn’t hear, “although I wanted to.” She started crying again as the older woman hugged her.

  “Don’t cry, darling. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. Maybe there is an explanation for all of this,” June said soothingly. “Why would anyone hurt you in this way? You’re such a beautiful girl.”

  The dark-haired stranger was speaking, but Caitlin could not hear her clearly.

  She saw Riley go over to the window and look out.

  “What’s going on, June?” Caitlin managed to croak. She felt sick and so tired all of a sudden.

  Riley came and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. “It’s okay, sis. The reporters seem to be leaving.”

  This new piece of information was just too much for Caitlin to deal with.

  “What reporters?” she wailed, burying her face into the back of the sofa.

  * * * *

  It was nice of June to stay with them in their hour of need. It seemed like hours since Caitlin’s world had crashed down around her. As she sipped a cup of strong, sweet tea, Caitlin tried to pull herself together.

  Life was going to go on. She still had Riley to think about. The poor kid had been cruelly delivered another harsh taste of reality. Her family appeared to be cursed by life.

  She was glad it was Sunday and she didn’t have her singing gig to worry about. There was no way she’d be able to sing a love song tonight without breaking down. Caitlin hoped she would be able to toughen up her heart in time for next Friday night. Maybe she’d even take a few nights off. She had already raised Riley’s squad money, after all. She could afford some time off. Surely Angelo could make other arrangements to cover her shifts. Her mind had been throwing around possibilities like this for ages when a knock at the door snapped her back to harsh, current reality.

  “Oh, June, I can’t see anyone at the moment,” Caitlin cried.

  June stood purposefully, saying she would deal with the visitor as she headed for the entry.

  She seemed ready to fob off the visitor and opened the door slightly, but the door was flung wide open and a tall, well-dressed, angry blonde came flouncing into the room. She pushed Caitlin’s elderly neighbour aside, nearly knocking her off her feet. It was the woman from the restaurant function. The one Caitlin now knew to be Lila James, Brodie’s wife. Lila stood peering down at Caitlin, who struggled into a sitting position on the sofa.

  “Come, no
w… There, there, little girl, dry those awful red eyes. No man is worth crying over. You should feel lucky you found out so soon what a heartless bastard Brodie can be.” Lila smiled patronisingly and continued, “Just thought I’d pop by and say hi. No hard feelings. I can’t blame you in some ways. He is a hunk, and so satisfying between the sheets, don’t you agree? He has me screaming and begging for more all the time. Pity that your name had to be dragged through the mud in this way, but maybe you will think twice in the future before getting involved with someone so clearly out of your league.”

  Her scornful stare ate at Caitlin’s heart.

  “It takes a real woman to keep someone like Brodie interested,” Lila added, with a toss of her head and disdainful look around the modest flat. “He would have tired of you quickly. If I’m not even enough for him, how could a little thing like you be?” the spiteful blonde spat out, before turning on her stilettoed heel and sashaying out of the front door.

  Caitlin slumped back onto the sofa with a broken heart and soul to match.

  How much worse could this day get? At least she still had June and Riley for support—and, it appeared, the strange, dark-haired girl from upstairs. She was keeping Riley distracted by showing him how to play her Nintendo DS game, and glanced at Caitlin sympathetically every so often.

  * * * *

  Brodie finally managed to answer all of the questions the reporters asked. It seemed no one was interested in the game the Jets had just played—only his once private, now very public life. Finally he showered and dressed, but not in the team’s travelling uniform. Instead he chose casual clothing—jeans, long-sleeved shirt and leather jacket—all the while trying to ignore the pain in his heart. He had tried almost constantly to reach Caitlin, but the phone was now apparently out of order. He needed to get a plane back to Sydney, and fast. After clearing his plans with the team manager, Brodie, with JT in tow, headed for Auckland International Airport.

  It would be a few hours before their plane got into the air, then at least four hours before they cleared Australian immigration authorities. At least it would be a quick trip through customs with nothing to declare—they had left their bags with the rest of the team. The only declarations Brodie had to make were to his angel—the sooner, the better.

  Brodie was a shell of his former self, his usually calm and collected character now impatient and fidgety. He still managed to sign a few autographs for fans, but not in his usual chatty way. JT tried to shield him as much as possible, but seemed to realise the more people that came up and showed their support for Brodie, the better things would be. Of course there were a few angry and outspoken critics who heckled him too, but that was to be expected.

  After securing two business-class tickets on an outgoing Air New Zealand flight direct to Sydney, Brodie took his seat, closed his eyes and prayed.

  He had time to think on the three-hour flight. He decided that he didn’t care so much about losing the captaincy or even not playing again. What really scared him was going back to the solitary life he had been living. Previously, he had been unaware of how much he had cut himself off emotionally. He had just been going through the motions for so long. Training and playing, then recovering from the aches and pains of one game, just to do it all over again the next week. So many nights spent alone in his apartment or at some function for something or someone. Always busy. Always distracted.

  Caitlin and Riley had shown him that there was so much more to life. They had so little, but they shared with and sacrificed for each other, and that meant they had everything he was missing. He had so much in terms of money and possessions but no one to enjoy it with. He played a game he loved but had no one to play for. There was no one to feel proud of him. He had his parents, of course, but since the disaster with Lila that relationship had been strained. Once his mum and dad had come to every game they could, but after his marriage to Lila they’d stopped. Lila had said they were relieved to hand the support role over to her and have their weekends free after so many years. It had hurt Brodie at the time, but he understood his parents had devoted almost all their free time, for so long, to running around after him as he’d pursued his league career. And, of course, Lila had a long list of friends—or, at least, people she was trying to impress—who were ready to use the tickets he’d once reserved for his mother and father.

  As the plane commenced its descent into Sydney International Airport, Brodie braced himself for the full impact of his indiscretion. He knew home soil would bring an even bigger media circus. JT had sat quietly next to Brodie for the whole flight. Words had not been needed to indicate his unconditional support. What was there to say? Brodie appreciated this unflinching allegiance that could have an impact on his front row partner’s career as well. He touched on this as they left the aircraft.

  JT just smiled back as he replied, “We’re both getting too old for this lifestyle, anyway.”

  Brodie couldn’t help wondering if JT meant the actual football, or the fantasy lifestyle that most people assumed they lived.

  At the passport counter, the officer tipped Brodie off. There was a throng of media in the terminal waiting to pounce. He offered to organise a security escort for them, strongly recommending it, not as a favour, but for safety reasons. The airport staff was keen to protect the other passengers. For Brodie, this day seemed to be getting worse by the minute. He felt the security force would just make it look more dramatic, make it seem as though he were trying to escape punishment for his actions, but what could he do? He didn’t want to endanger or inconvenience the public. It seemed he didn’t really have much choice.

  As the men headed out, Brodie remembered they had not organised any transport.

  “Great. Standing at a taxi rank, that should be fun,” he muttered miserably.

  JT, always able to somehow save the day, told Brodie that he had rung Trevor at Channel Four before they’d left New Zealand, and he was going to collect them and deliver them to Ashfield.

  Brodie would have kissed JT if he hadn’t been sure a punch in the face would be the response. JT was not the sort to kiss, or be kissed, in public and definitely would not appreciate being kissed by a man. Brodie ruefully considered how much better off he’d be now if he had his mate’s view on public displays of affection.

  Getting out of the terminal and finding Trevor went more smoothly than Brodie had expected. JT fielded most of the reporters’ shouted questions with a standard response.

  “James will make a statement after he goes and gets his girl.” This seemed to appease the rabble. Brodie liked the way JT thought. That was exactly what he was going to do. Go and get his girl.

  It had been a long day, what with the time zone differences and his body stiffening up from the game they’d played, which now felt like so long ago. Brodie was exhausted.

  Night had already fallen in Sydney. It was seven p.m. and it would probably take a good thirty minutes of travel time before he arrived at Caitlin’s flat in Ashfield. Time for a few more prayers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Just as Caitlin was starting to think clearly again after the horrid, embarrassing episode with Mrs James, there was another loud knock on the door. June had gone back to her flat to rustle up some food and Mandy, the dark-haired girl, had taken Riley upstairs to find more games. Caitlin’s first instinct was to ignore whomever it was, and she tried to do just that. But the knocks became louder, so Caitlin dragged herself to the door, bracing herself for more confrontation.

  When she opened the door, Caitlin saw a small, grey-haired woman. Behind her stood Brodie—or what would be Brodie in thirty years or so. Were Brodie’s parents here to berate her as well? To give her a piece of their minds for taking up with their married son, like some sort of harlot? Caitlin didn’t think she would survive this day at all as she burst into a fresh flood of tears.

  As a pair of warm arms enveloped her, Caitlin heard a cheery voice.

  “Please don’t cry, dear. We are here to help. I’m Ruth and t
his is my husband, Patrick James. We are Brodie’s parents,” said the grey-haired woman soothingly. “My boy told me how much he cares for you and your brother. We wanted to thank the wonderful woman who brought our son back to life and mended his heart, so we came to do that in person. Come, now, stop crying.”

  Caitlin was very confused. How could these people want to thank her for disgracing their son? How could they justify her adulterous behaviour?

  Today had been unbearable. Not knowing what to do or say, she broke free of the small arms holding her and crossed the floor to sit back down on her sofa. It was either that or fall on the floor. Ruth and Patrick calmly entered the flat and closed the door behind them.

  “Pat, go find a kettle and make some tea. Caitlin and I are going to need some girl time.” Ruth spoke to her husband authoritatively.

  With that she turned to Caitlin and took her by the hand. “Now, tell me why you’re so upset, dear.” When the only response was a shake of the head and more sobbing, the older woman continued, “Brodie will work it all out. Didn’t he tell you as much when he rang? Half of Australia heard him declare you his girl, so they have already forgiven him for his little bit of exhibitionism. Don’t you love my boy?” Ruth suddenly asked, after a pause.

  Caitlin was stunned, shaken, bewildered.

  “What about his wife?” she bleated, almost pathetically. “I promise I didn’t know he was married, Mrs James. Really, I didn’t. I’m not that sort of girl.”

  Ruth smiled calmly and patted Caitlin’s hand. “My dear girl, my son would not commit adultery. He is not married—at least, not now. Thank the Lord,” Ruth added, with a glance heavenwards. “That evil woman cast some sort of spell on my Brodie, but he figured her out eventually and divorced her. Cost him a packet, though. He certainly left her better off than when he found her. Considering what she did to him, I think he was far too generous.”

  Oh, thank God. Aside from the fact that Brodie wasn’t married, Caitlin also couldn’t help be relieved that Brodie’s mother didn’t appear to hold her ex-daughter-in-law in any high regard. As Ruth continued her personal attack on Lila, Patrick James entered the room, carrying a tray with three mugs. He chastised his wife gently.

 

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