by Sable Hunter
“Would you rather play for the Cowboys? How about the Patriots?” Cassidy asked as she bee-bopped up to him with her hand hooked through the arm of some guy Clint didn’t know.
Giving the young man the evil eye to let him know he was being watched, Clint answered, “I guess the Cowboys, I don’t really want to move far from home.”
“I agree.” Clint smiled when he felt his mother stroke his hair. “I want him to stay close. We need him.” Gillian handed him an envelope. “This letter came for you.”
Clint took it without glancing at who it was from. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I know you’re anxious, but you probably should mix and mingle a little. Let people know you’re grateful they came.”
Gillian’s suggestion made sense. “Sure, I’m just not thinking.” He jammed the letter in his pocket, then rose to do as his mother suggested.
Clint kept his phone with him as he moved around the restaurant, speaking to everyone who came to cheer him on. People wanted to snap selfies with him, so he posed and smiled each time he was asked.
“When’s the phone gonna ring, Wilder?” His friend Russ Bran asked as he waggled a French Fry in Clint’s direction. They’d played ball together since elementary school.
“Soon. Soon. I hope.”
“I wish I were going with you, man. But I was never as good as you, no matter how hard I tried.”
“You were plenty good, Russ.” He should’ve sat down with his friend and consoled him for not making the cut, but he was just too wound up.
He had to keep moving.
NFL teams usually called the player they were taking before the draft pick was announced on television. By the end of the second round, he felt himself getting antsy. Midway through the third round, he grabbed a beer and found a table. He wasn’t there long before Kyd plopped down next to him. “I see you’re cool, calm, and collected.”
“So. So.”
“Hey, are you using your car this afternoon?”
Clint shook his head. “No. As soon as I get through here, I’m going to bed. I’m beat.”
“You ain’t gonna party?” Kyd looked surprised. “I figured somebody was throwing you a big bash.”
“This is it.” He jammed a hand in his pocket to find his keys. Beneath them, he felt the letter his mother had given him. Placing the envelope on the table he handed Kyd the fob. “Have it back in my parking spot before ten p.m. All right?”
“Yea. Sure. What’s that?” He pointed to the letter.
For the first time, Clint glanced down at it and his heart stopped beating.
MIT Earth, Atmospheric, and Planetary Sciences.
He’d applied to MIT six months ago with no response. What if…?
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He picked up the letter and jammed it back into his pocket.
“Looked like something,” Kyd persisted.
Clint needed a moment alone. “I gotta go take a leak. I’ll be back.”
“Hey, what if they call while you’re gone?”
“I’ll answer it! I don’t need both hands to piss.” Clint left quickly, making his way to the back of the restaurant owned by the Saints’ Quarterback Drew Brees. His mind was spinning out of control.
“Hurry back, Clint!” His mother called and he raised a hand in a salute of acknowledgement.
Once behind closed doors, he ignored the urinal and headed to a stall. Putting the silent phone in one pocket, he took the letter from the other. Easing down on the toilet, he tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper.
Congratulations, Mr. Wilder.
You have been accepted into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Master’s Program on a full scholarship.
“God. Oh, God.” Clint felt like he was going to be sick. Standing up, he hung his head over the pot.
And then the phone rang…
“Hello?”
“Clint? Clint Wilder? This is Ray Bradbury, assistant coach with the Houston Texans. I just wanted to let you know that we’re taking you. How would you like to be a Texan?”
“Well, sir, I’ve been one all of my life.” Clint wasn’t being a smart ass; he was stalling for time.
“Good to know. So, I take it that’s a yes?”
Clint knew you didn’t keep guys like this waiting. Leaning against the side of the stall, he closed his eyes and let the thoughts come.
His dream was to be a meteorological engineer. Had been since the day he survived the Jarrell tornado.
The only problem with this dream was – money.
And now that problem was solved. The scholarship was a full ride. He wouldn’t even have to work to put himself through school. This was an honor. A privilege. A dream come true.
But what about his family?
Since his father abandoned them all those years ago, they’d struggled to survive. His mother worked two and sometimes three jobs to pay the bills. Other people had family to fall back on, but they had no one. His mother was an orphan. She’d been raised in foster care. To make matters worse, they’d never known their father’s family at all.
Even with all the hardship, Gillian never gave up on her family having the best she could manage. At her insistence, Clint and Rowan attended college. She raked and scraped to help them as much as she could, but despite their combined efforts, both boys were saddled with a mountain of student loans to repay.
If he accepted the MIT scholarship, he’d be okay – but what about the others? They all deserved to go to college too. They needed someone to pay for their education. To help them get started in life. His mother deserved a house. She deserved a damn break for once. His family needed him.
Now.
“Clint? What’s the word? Do you accept our offer, or do we move on to the next pick?”
Clint let out a heavy sigh. “I accept your offer. Thank you so much, Coach Bradbury.”
“Good deal. Watch the telecast. Your name will be called in just a few moments.”
“I will.”
“Fine. We’ll be in touch.”
Once the call ended he left the stall, moving to the sink to wash his hands. Staring at himself in the mirror, he practiced a big smile. There was no way he could let his family know how hard this decision was to make. As far as they were concerned, everything was working out just as he’d hoped.
“Clint! What’s taking you so long? Are you sick?” Rowan stood in the open door of the bathroom.
“I’m coming.” He followed his brother out, his hand on Rowan’s shoulder. As soon as he was at the edge of the dining room, he lifted his fist in triumph.
“I just agreed to play for the Houston Texans. I’m a pro!”
As his family and friends cheered, Clint sought peace in his heart.
He’d put his family first. He’d made the right decision.
Two days later… April 28th, 2012 – Two Storms Collide
Jensen put her foot on the brake to stop at the crosswalk in front of the McLane Student Center. She’d come to the main Baylor campus in Waco to deliver a paper copy of her dissertation to her favorite professor. Even though he was nearing seventy, Dr. Dickens still taught the best Biological Science course in the nation. She credited him for encouraging her to follow her dream. He’d helped her work through what her focus should be. Initially, probably because of her mother, oncology was her first choice. Yet when her father’s condition deteriorated, and no could give her a straight answer as to why – Jensen changed her mind. Breast cancer research was widespread and well-funded. The same wasn’t true with CTE. Even though the disease was real, the case studies compelling, and the research findings powerful – there were still deniers who sought to put lucrative sports above the safety of its players. Jensen longed to change this dynamic.
As she waited for several students to pass by, she picked up a paper towel from the console to wipe the condensation from the inside of the windshield. Rain was pouring down in dense gray sheets. She let out a gasp of amused dismay as one girl turned i
n circles, fighting with her umbrella as it threatened to turn inside out in the heavy wind. Jensen was just about to let her foot off the brake when a guy came rushing through the crosswalk, holding his backpack over his head.
As her eyes followed his progress, time seemed to slow to a crawl. This was one of those moments when you could see disaster coming but there was no time to stop it. As the pedestrian passed in front of her car, a vehicle traveling in the other lane came barreling down on top of him. The man pivoted, attempting to get out of harm’s way, but the vehicle sideswiped him, knocking him to the ground. She saw his head strike the pavement with considerable force.
“Oh, no!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Jensen threw open her door and rushed out into the rain. The man was lying flat on the pavement when she reached him, his eyes shut, his face contorted. “I’m a doctor. Just lie still. I’ll call 9-1-1.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, about to press the key.
“No. No. I’m fine.” He opened his eyes to stare at her face. “God, you’re beautiful. You look like a young Grace Kelly and I love Grace Kelly.”
Jensen shook her head. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard.”
Clint touched her hand holding the phone. “Please. Don’t call anyone.” Brushing aside her concern, he sat up and wiped the rain from his face. “I’m not hurt.”
With a hand on his chest, Jensen shook her head. She’d seen how fast the other car was moving. “You need to be checked out; you took a hard lick. I’m sure adrenaline is rushing through your system. You might not even realize you’re injured.”
Before he could respond, the lights of another car appeared, approaching at a fast rate of speed. Clint held his breath as the small woman jumped up and threw herself in its path, arms raised, shielding him from danger. Rising quickly to his feet, he grasped his little champion around the waist and pulled her out of the path of oncoming traffic. “Let’s get out of the street. You’re getting drenched. Besides, you’re going to get yourself killed jumping in front of cars that way.”
“The idiot should’ve stopped. It’s a crosswalk,” she grumbled. “This spot needs a red light.”
“You’re right.” He shouldered his backpack, wiping the incessant rain from his face. “Thanks for stopping to help me. I hate to just walk away. You seem like someone I’d like to get to know. You wouldn’t give me your phone number, would you?”
Jensen realized he was about to leave, and she had no idea if he were truly hurt or not. “Let’s get you in my car. I’ll drop you off at the student health clinic.” As she spoke to him, Jensen noticed he towered over her by at least a foot. “I don’t want to spend all night worrying about you.”
He didn’t resist when she took him by the arm and escorted him around to the passenger side of her vehicle. “I’m not hurt, but I’ll go to the clinic if it will make you happy.” The visit wouldn’t cost him anything and he’d get the chance to spend a few more minutes with her.
“Do you feel dizzy?” Ignoring the honking of a truck pulled in behind her, she opened the passenger door, waiting for him to be seated.
“Not really.” His head was spinning, but Clint was convinced it was because of her. The lovely woman was completely drenched; long strands of honey blonde hair sticking to her cheeks. For a second, he was oblivious to anything but the deep blue of her beautiful eyes. A man could drown in those eyes. “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Clint Wilder. What’s your name?”
“Jensen. Jensen Mistretta.” Shutting his door, she ran around the car, waving at the rude man who was still leaning on his horn. Once inside, she started the car and put it into gear. She didn’t get very far; another vehicle was stopped in front of her to let a student out. Taking advantage of the lull, she reached over to touch the back of his neck. “I saw you hit your head. Are you bleeding?”
When she ran a hand through his hair, Clint shuddered with pleasure.
Glancing at her palm, she announced, “I don’t see any blood, but you’re shaking.”
“Your touch made me shiver,” he admitted truthfully.
“You’re probably cold.” She turned up the heat. “This will help our clothes to dry.” As the car moved in front of them, she removed her foot from the brake to resume their journey. “How do I get to the clinic?”
“It’s across campus.” Clint gave her directions. “They won’t find anything wrong with me. The car didn’t hit me that hard. I’m quick on my feet. He just bumped me. I take harder hits than that on the football field all the time.”
“Don’t tell me that.” Jensen cringed at the thought of him playing football. With that physique, she might’ve known. “I hope you haven’t taken too many hits over the years.”
“A few. Not many. Nothing serious.”
“Anytime you take a blow to the head, it’s serious.”
“Stop worrying, Doc.”
This reference made Jensen laugh. “Doc. You’re the first person to call me that. I like it.”
“I love your laugh. Are you really a doctor?”
“I will be soon.”
“Congratulations.” Clint cut his eyes to subtly check her out. Even in her disheveled state, the woman was adorable. “I need to ask you a question before I make a fool of myself.”
“What’s that?” She kept her eyes on the road.
“Are you married? Engaged? In a committed relationship?”
Jensen let out a soft giggle as she made the turn. “Only to my work. My residency program begins in a couple of weeks. I won’t have a minute for myself for the next six years.”
“Wow. That’s tough.” Clint leaned back on the headrest. “So, you attended Baylor?”
“Yes, I was Pre-Med here and completed my graduate studies at the Baylor medical branch in Houston.”
“I’m moving to Houston next month.”
“Changing schools?”
He held up his hand to show her his senior ring. “I graduate next week.”
“Congratulations! What’s your major?” She kept glancing at him when she could, looking for any signs of concussion. So far, so good.
“Engineering with an emphasis on meteorology. I love anything to do with weather. Did you know this isn’t just any thunderstorm? It’s a derecho.”
“I didn’t know that field of study was even a thing. What’s a derecho?”
“It’s a thunderstorm on steroids lasting at least six hours. Sometimes it has hurricane force winds and tornados.”
Jensen leaned up to glance through the windshield at the sky above them. “I hope things calm down so I can get back to Houston.”
“What were you doing here today, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind. I need you to keep talking to make sure you’re okay. To answer your question, I came to visit a former professor. I guess you could call him my mentor.” She put on her brake to stop at another crosswalk. “Do you have anyone to pick you up after the clinic visit?”
“If I need to, I’ll call an Uber.”
Jensen tapped her finger on the steering wheel. “Yes, call an Uber. Do you have a roommate?”
“Yea.” Seeing where her trail of questions led, he set out to reassure her. “I won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, you have a girlfriend?”
“Not at the moment. No. You could give me your number.”
Jensen snorted playfully. “I could, but I’m not.”
“Why not? I think our first date is going well.”
“You do realize this is more in line with a doctor’s visit than a date.” She changed lanes, then slowed down when she realized how much water was in the road. “Where will you be working? NASA?”
“No. I’ve been drafted to play for the Houston Texans.” Suddenly, Jensen jerked the wheel and ran off the road. She immediately straightened up, but not before Clint grabbed the dash. “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry. Bad reaction. I don’t approve of football. At all. I think it should be b
anned.”
“Why?” Clint was shocked at the adamance of her tone. “What’s the sport ever done to you?”
She shook her head, seemingly unwilling to say. “I bet you could get a great job with your major. Why do you want to risk life and limb playing football?”
Clint shrugged. “I like the game and the starting salary is a helluva lot bigger.”
“Money.” She might’ve known. “You need to reconsider.”
“I can’t.” For a lot of reasons. “I’ve already signed the contract.”
“Well, be careful. It’s a dangerous game. Studies show repeated brain injury can lead to an incurable deteriorating condition called Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.”
“I’ve heard of CTE and I will be careful.”
“Good.” She gave him a small smile. “I don’t want to see you in my office one day.”
“Is that your field of study? You’re a brain surgeon, aren’t you?” Clint couldn’t help but be impressed.
“No. I’m a neurologist. I won’t perform surgery.” She saw the sign for the clinic up ahead. “We’re almost there.”
“Damn. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you. Can I see you again?”
Jensen glanced at him with affection. “Look, you’re a nice guy. You’re also very handsome. I’m flattered – but I can’t see you again. No matter which opportunity I choose, I’ll be moving out of state for my residency.”
Clint wasn’t deterred. “I’m not opposed to a long-distance relationship, that’s what airplanes are for.”
Finding a parking spot near the front door, Jensen put the car into park. “We’re here. I hope you’ll be okay.”
Clint didn’t make a move to get out of the vehicle. Instead, he turned to face her, looking deeply into her eyes. “Just one date before you go. I’m really drawn to you.”
Jensen shook her head. “It wouldn’t work, long distance relationships never do. Plus, I’m older than you.”