by Mary Manners
Get a grip, Cooper. Get a grip.
He held his head in his hands and was surprised when the jumbled thoughts that swam through his brain merged into a furtive prayer.
Dear God, help me. I don’t know what to do.
He didn’t pray to play football again...he didn’t pray for more money, more fame. No, he asked for guidance, simply asked to be shown the way he should go. Because where he was right now felt bad...the worst. And there appeared to be no light on the horizon. Not even a glimmer.
So he bowed his head and prayed.
And a gentle peace came over him.
****
Lexi found Cooper at the side of the building in the place where afternoon sunlight was most brilliant...the place where she’d dreamed of a vegetable garden for the kids.
It was a good skill to have—gardening. There was little in life more satisfying than planting a seed and nurturing it, watching it grow strong and vibrant. Her mom had introduced her to the joys of gardening when she was very young. Together, they’d created a small indoor greenhouse beneath a brilliant ray of sunlight that streamed through their enclosed back porch when a whisper of cold still chilled the late-winter air. Then, they’d replanted the seedlings into a plot her dad tilled rich and smooth. The scent of fertile spring earth mixed with musky compost was like an old friend. It became a family tradition—planting a garden together, tending it and watching it grow.
Until the Saturday her mom died in a car accident while rushing home from the grocery store with Terri at the wheel. It happened on a warm, impossibly clear day the late-spring of her freshman year of high school, on an afternoon filled with sunshine that held the promise that nothing bad could ever happen in the world.
She’d been hanging out at the quarry with Cooper, where they swam for hours beneath shimmery sunlight that felt like it belonged to mid-July. And he’d bought her a chocolate-dipped soft-serve cone that melted faster than she could eat it. She’d giggled as the sticky mess dripped down her chin and splattered across the new coral-colored flip-flops Mom had surprised her with just that morning.
And when they returned home, sleepy and warm, her dad was there in the living room waiting with Cooper’s dad. One glance at their grief-stricken, red-rimmed eyes and she knew something awful had happened...somehow she knew without a word being spoken. Days of darkness followed, and her world felt suffocating, like a musty room with no windows.
When her mom died, the gardens had died away, too, and her dad sold the house the summer she graduated. She drove by the brick rancher once in a while on her way home from work just to look, to remember. The beloved plot of land along the back fence was now choked with weeds.
But this spring, a desire rose in Lexi. She had Thursday’s Child to nurture and grow, and what a way to honor her mom’s memory...teaching the kids to stake tomato plants and trellis cucumbers, sprinkle fertilizer and watch plump, round pumpkins turn from deep green to vibrant orange, as her mom had once taught her.
She’d like to eventually build a greenhouse, too, and perhaps show the kids how to cultivate a variety of colorful spring flowers and crisp summer vegetables to fund some of their programs. She made a mental note to discuss the idea with Renee. They might need a vendor’s license or a permit of some sort. And they’d have to figure out where start-up money would come from. Renee would look into it. She was good with things like that. She’d find a way to make it happen.
Cooper’s found the perfect spot.
His grunt drew her attention. She loped over and stood at the edge of the plot to watch him separate stubborn patches of grass from the soil with a shovel. His jaw was set in a tight line and sweat puddled in a dark furrow of hair that gathered along the nape of his neck.
“What are you doing?”
He tossed her a glance, eyes dark and shadowed as if he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages. “Digging a garden.”
“I see that. I mean, what are you doing here? How did you know I wanted a garden here, in this exact spot—the most perfect spot on the entire property?”
“Andy mentioned it. Said you told him over pizza one night how you’d like to make a garden for the kids someday.” He lifted another square of sod, threw it onto a growing heap. “And I got to thinking...I remember your mom, Lexi, and how much it hurt you when she died that spring. You haven’t picked up a hoe, watered a vegetable seedling since, have you?”
Her throat tightened. Following the accident, the darkness eventually lifted, but she and her dad had never mentioned gardening again. Somehow, it just wouldn’t have been the same. They both understood that. And Terri had refused to wander anywhere near that area of the back yard. “You’re going to hurt your knee again.”
“Forget about my knee.” He lifted the last square of sod and dumped it onto the heap, then tossed the shovel aside. Reaching into the bed of his truck, he found a water bottle. Ice clinked along the insulated metal sides as he dipped his face toward the blazing sun and guzzled a long swig, then drenched his sweaty head with what was left. Hair dripping, he stripped off the soiled shirt, wiped his face with it, and found a clean shirt in a duffel bag crammed behind the driver’s seat.
He tossed the soiled shirt behind the seat and turned to her. “Get in.”
“What?” Her heart did a little flip when his muscles flexed as he shimmied into the clean T-shirt. “Where are we going?”
“To the home improvement store—to get a tiller, some compost and maybe even some plants, if they have a decent selection and you feel like sorting through them.”
“There’s not money in our budget for a tiller, or for anything else of a gardening nature. We can’t just go out and buy stuff. I have to run it by Renee, first. She manages the books...and the purse strings.”
“Did I say anything about money—or a budget?”
“No, but...”
“Then just get in.”
“OK. I’m going.” She eased around to the passenger side, climbed into the truck, and shook when he slammed the door hard enough to practically break the window glass. “What’s going on, Cooper? What are you so worked up about? You look like you just lost your best friend.”
He jammed the keys into the ignition and cranked the engine. His gaze locked with hers, and she found resentment there...and grief. “I do, huh?” He laughed bitterly. “I guess that makes you happy.”
“Happy?” Her stomach soured at the bitterness in his voice. “How can you say that?”
“Because you act like I’m a pariah. Look at the way you’re clutching the door, ready to leap out at any moment.”
She glanced over, released the door handle, and felt her fingers tingle as blood resumed its flow. “Sorry...I’m just—I don’t understand what’s going on here, Cooper. Is your dad OK? Did something happen?” She’d read in the newspaper he was having some heart trouble. The reporters wrote about how Cooper had flown between games last fall to stay with him through surgery and recovery. Maybe there were complications.
“Dad’s doing fine. The doc said he’s near one hundred percent again. He should live to see his great-grandchildren.”
Great grandchildren...
She stiffened in the seat and splayed a hand across the dash as they tumbled over a pothole. “Then what’s bothering you?”
“Why does something have to be bothering me? I’m digging you a garden. We’re going to the home improvement store for a tiller and whatever else we need to finish the job. That’s it.”
“I know you better than that, Cooper. At least I used to...before...”
“Before what?”
“Nothing. Forget it. Just slow down and watch the road, would you? You’re driving way too fast.”
He laughed, but eased off the gas. “Some things never change, Lex.”
“Cooper...” She picked at a piece of lint that clung to her skirt.
“Go ahead.” He fumbled with the radio dials until soft music filled an awkward silence. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She hesitated, stumbled to find the right words. “I was just wondering...what’s it…like to—”
“To what? Just spit it out.”
“To walk into a store and buy whatever you want without any thought about the cost—no worries about breaking the old bank account?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I see what I want—what I need— and I get it. The bill comes, and I pay it.”
“No sweat, right? No worries.”
His eyes narrowed. “Sure, whatever you say...no worries.” He reached for a stick of gum from a package on the console, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. The scent of cherries filled the car, wafted over the odor of sweaty T-shirts and musty remnants of the mulch he’d hauled a few days ago. “Any other questions?”
A million, at least. But she held her tongue. “OK, Cooper. Let’s get the tiller. I have a budget meeting with Renee in an hour that I can’t miss.”
“Relax and enjoy the ride. I’ll get you back with time to spare.”
****
“This can’t be right.” Lexi’s eyes grazed the paper once more, searching for an error in calculations.
“It’s dead right.” Renee frowned. “I was up half the night crunching and re-crunching numbers. There’s no mistake, Lex. Thursday’s Child is in a world of hurt.”
“But what about the auction? That brought in what—fifty thousand? Shouldn’t that cover us for a while?”
“You know the rent on this building and the grounds alone comes to five figures each month. Then there’s utilities and equipment to consider, not to mention the extra staff we’ll have to hire for the summer, as well as insurance and taxes.”
“We can cut our salaries. I don’t need much to live on.”
“You already took a pay cut a few months ago, and that was before Andy came to live with you. Think of him, Lexi. The kid eats what’s left of your salary in food alone each month. You can’t whittle any more than you already have.”
She sighed, paced the floor. “This is our dream, Renee. We’ve worked so hard, and the kids need us. We can’t let them down. We just have to hang on a little longer. Something will happen. I just know it will.”
“Yeah. The doors are gonna get padlocked when we can’t make the rent.”
“Don’t say that.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “We’ll make it.”
“Even if we do, you know the building’s going up for sale come August. Then what, Lexi? Even though we have first rights for purchase, you know we can’t afford to buy it. Where are we going to go?”
“There’s got to be a way. Have faith, Renee. If we go down, it won’t be without a fight. Your idea to have the silent auction was a good one. It brought in a good chunk of money—”
“Thanks to Cooper.”
“Maybe so. I’ll admit he was more than generous. But there have to be more ideas to raise funds. Let’s put our thinking caps on and work through this. I’ll get some paper, take a few notes.”
“OK,” Renee agreed. “But we’d better order in a pizza. I have a feeling it’s gonna be another late night.”
****
Female voices drifted down the hall. Cooper recognized Lexi’s melodic southern cadence, and assumed the second belonged to Renee. They were having it out, tossing ideas back and forth.
“We can’t quit now.” Lexi’s voice quickened with urgency. “Come on, Renee. You’re the financial wizard here. Think...think.”
“I am thinking, Lex. Calm down. Here, have a handful of trail mix. You know how cranky you get when your blood sugar drops.”
“I do not get cranky.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever you say.”
Cooper swiped a forearm across his brow. Sweat ran down his back and soaked his dirt-splattered T-shirt, but the garden was ready. He glanced at his watch. The school day was nearly over. Soon the building would come to life and kids would swarm him like bees on a honeycomb. He debated...knock on the office door and interrupt Lexi’s conversation or slip away quietly, before he was mauled by kids? His knee throbbed from wrestling with the tiller, and he didn’t think he could gun a spiral worth a hill of beans until he rested a bit.
And I sure don’t want to disappoint the kids when I’m not able to play a decent game of football with them.
“If we don’t come up with something quick, we’ll lose everything.” Lexi’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t bear the thought of that, Renee. I just can’t. What will happen to the kids?”
He leaned against the wall to take the pressure off his knee and listened to her voice rise with worry.
I have to do something...I can’t stand to hear her so torn up.
He turned an ear toward the doorway, and the sound of Lexi’s voice nearly melted him. “Let’s go over things again, Renee. Come on, we’ll make a list.”
I’ll see what they come up with, then make a few calls of my own when I get home.
6
Lexi smiled as a crowd of kids tackled Cooper in the field behind the Thursday’s Child building. He fell into the grass and made a grand production of splaying his arms and acting as if they’d knocked him out cold. When they poked and prodded like ants swarming a hill, his eyes flew wide and he rose up with a roar to chase them.
His limp’s almost gone. He’ll probably be gone soon, too.
Lexi drove around the parking lot to a space near the action and shut off the car’s engine. A dull thud of tension drummed across her forehead, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to stave it off.
Andy was in trouble again. Well...sort of in trouble. His math teacher had called because some sort of project was due—apparently had been due—for a week now and Andy had yet to turn it in. Most teachers would have given him an F and forgotten about it, but not Mr. Grinstead. No, Andy would do the project and be assigned eternal detention, as well. He might stay in detention until he was old enough to collect Social Security.
And there was no football practice in detention, sorry to say.
So Andy’s only option was to turn in the project soon—like, tomorrow—and beg for leniency. And another late night poring over books at the kitchen table, listening to him moan and groan, wasn’t exactly what she had on the agenda.
Lexi slid from the driver’s seat and made her way toward the crowd. Something sailed through the air, and it took only a moment to determine the flying object was a football—and that Cooper delivered the sweet spiral.
“Heads up!” Cooper’s voice rang across the field. A moment later, the ball landed at her feet with an annoying thump, nearly crushing her toes. She jumped back and the throbbing in her head cranked up a notch. His voice found its way through the achy fog. “Nice catch, Lex—not.”
“You could give a girl a little warning.” She bent to retrieve the ball. It was the real deal...official NFL issue. No department store knockoff for Cooper Jackson. “What are you doing here, Cooper?”
“I came to check on the garden. Andy and I set up a sprinkler system to keep the plants watered, then he asked me to toss the ball. So, here I am. The garden looks good, by the way. Tomatoes are coming in nicely and the sprinklers should help when the hot sun of full-blown summer kicks in. No weeds, I noticed. The kids have done a good job in that department.”
“Yes, they have. And I’ve got a stack of cards in my office that they made for you. They all want to thank you for your generosity. I told them you donated the tiller and the plants, dug the garden yourself. They appreciate it, Cooper—we all do.”
“Want to toss the ball with us?” He eyed her linen capri pants and strappy sandals that showed off cotton-candy pink polish on her nails. “Not exactly football gear, but Andy and I will go easy on you.”
“Sounds like fun but...well, I’m sorry to report Andy’s done tossing the ball for the day, the week...maybe the rest of his natural life.”
“What do you mean?” Andy stalked across the lawn, hands jammed into the pockets of his cargo shorts. His eyes, no longer hidden beneath a curt
ain of hair since Cooper suggested the cut, narrowed into a battle line. “What did I do now?”
She leveled him a look. “It’s not what you did, buddy. It’s what you didn’t do.”
He frowned. “What? The science fair project? It’s not due for another week, and I’m working on that with Brody. We have things totally under control.”
“Uh-uh. Try again.”
He scratched his head a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah, that book report for English. But I still have”—He glanced at his watch.—“sixteen and a half hours ’til it’s due. That’s plenty of time to get things done. I only have two more chapters to read, and the epilogue. What’s the rush?”
Not a book report, too. Will summer, and freedom from this schoolwork, ever arrive?
Lexi groaned. Her pulse quickened to a dangerous speed. “Strike two. Does math ring a bell...a math project? Perhaps something important that was due, say, last week. Last Tuesday, to be exact.”
“Oh, that, yeah. I...guess I forgot about it. I should have made a note in my planner, but...” He had the sense to lower his head, slap on a repentant look. “But, how did you know?”
She pulled out her cell phone, waggled it in front of his face. “Mr. Grinstead just called. Isn’t technology wonderful?”
He grimaced. “Nah. I’d have to disagree, totally.”
“Despite that opinion”—She handed him the football.—“Give it back to Cooper. You’re done with the game for a while.”
His eyes flew wide with disappointment. “But—”
“Don’t even try to argue. A math project and a book report? And you haven’t even finished the book yet? Your procrastination’s giving me heart palpitations, Andy. My hair’s going gray, and fast.”
“It doesn’t look gray to me,” Cooper chimed in. “Looks good, shiny...sassy.”