by Sara Evans
“Why does there have to be an end? You tell him because it’s the right thing to do. Secrets like this have a way of coming out. It may hurt him now, but it’ll hurt worse if it comes out next year, or in ten years. He’ll wonder why you kept the secret. What about Asa? You and Max need to figure out together how to tell Asa he’s adopted. Don’t risk him finding out as an adult and make him second-guess his whole childhood.”
Jade sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Because you know I’m right. What if the birth father gets all sentimental and starts looking back at his life deciding he needs to make amends? Happened to a friend of mine. Thought he was Joe and Sue Donaldson’s kid. Turns out his father had an affair and his mom is not his mom. She took him in and raised him as her own when the mistress bolted. He was pretty upset. Felt like his life was all a big lie. Tell Max. Do not shoulder this alone. He has a right to know.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. Do it. What’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know if I believe it. Who knows why Taylor told me that wild story?
It may not be true. Asa turns two in a month. After that, the bio dad can’t challenge the birth certificate—if there even is a different bio dad. Max will legally be Asa’s father.”
“Don’t drag this out. Tell him. What is it with you? Where did you get this philosophy that keeping secrets from the man you love is the best way to have a relationship?” Aiden’s words cut hard. “Think how hurt you were that Max didn’t trust you enough to believe you’d love him through his big mess.”
“This isn’t my mess, Aiden. It’s the continuing saga of his. Even though Rice did him wrong on this one. And I learned the keeping-secrets thing from growing up with our mother.”
“Mama? You’re crazy. She was the bare-it-all kind.”
“Then this is my reaction to her. She told it all. I hide it.” Aiden made a good point. Mama’s baring it all—whether it was secrets or skin—embarrassed Jade on more than one occasion.
“You called for my advice and despite your stellar rebuttals, I remain standing on my ‘tell him’ soapbox. Tell him, tell him, tell him.”
Jade shoved the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I will—if and when I get the paternity from Taylor.”
“Or, here’s an idea, tell him.”
Jade held the phone from her ear. “You don’t have to yell.”
“I do if you’re not listening.”
A low breeze cooled the hot tears in Jade’s eyes. “Every time I picture myself telling him, I see his face and it breaks my heart. Rice was one of his best friends growing up. They were engaged. He really cared for her and she paid back his kindness with deception. For her own gain. She didn’t care if she hurt me or our marriage. Why should I allow her the last hurrah? Huh? Why let her charade continue? Let it end with me.”
“It doesn’t end with you and you know it.” Underscoring Aiden’s words was the power of truth. “Jade, got to run. It’s teatime. Listen, let me tell you something about men. We’re simple. Not complicated. Max is a big boy and he can handle the news. Don’t assign him your fears.”
“It just hurts.” Jade smoothed the tears from her cheeks and lowered her forehead to her knees.
“I know, kid sister. But rip the Band-Aid off now. Quick jerk.”
As she ended the call, the screen door groaned and Max stepped onto the porch. “Hey, what are you doing, babe?”
Had he heard? “Max, you’re awake.” She couldn’t see his expression in the dark.
“Rolled over on my playbook.” He sat on the step next to her, yawning, rubbing his eyes. “Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” He pressed his hand over the base of her neck and wove his fingers through her hair.
“Aiden called.” She held up her phone. “He’s in Australia.”
“The man gets around.” Max pointed toward the amber lights of Colby. “There’s our new hometown. New opportunity. Fresh chances.” He breathed in and glanced at her.
“Sounds like you’re feeling better about things?”
“I am. We’re where we’re supposed to be. Did you have fun with the boosters?”
“The coaches’ wives were fun. Sweet. Kathy Carroll invited me to a playdate next week. She said her nana’s house is a vintage lover’s candy store.”
“See? Connections already.”
“I hope so. I really liked her.”
Max bumped her shoulder. “Did you see the redbirds tonight? In the trees.”
“Perched on the limbs. Yeah, I saw them.” She remembered seeing a redbird in the spring at Mama’s last party. Mama had died a few hours later. But a little redbird flitted to the ground at Mama’s feet and sang the sweetest song to her. Then chirped a message or warning or something to Jade.
“It’s a good sign, those birds.”
“Max, all I ask is that if you start feeling the old stress—”
“I’m not going to feel the old stress.”
She peered at him for a long second. The light from the single living room lamp stretched through the screen to halo his high smooth cheek. “How do you know you won’t feel the old stress? What exactly happened when you were gone at that camp to make you so sure? And why haven’t you ever talked to me about it?”
“I’d planned on telling you.” Max drew his arm back and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I started to once, but I couldn’t. It seemed private, between Jesus and me.” When he peered at her she could see the glisten in his eyes. “You know how something cool happens and it feels so special you don’t want to tell anyone in case they ruin it, or don’t get it? Sort of like when a man falls in love with the right woman, he doesn’t go into the locker room and talk about how many bases he covered.”
“Did you think I’d make fun of you?”
“Not really, just maybe that I couldn’t communicate what was so special to me.” Emotion watered his voice. “I never knew God loved me so much.”
“Remember when I finally told you about having an abortion? And how I finally confessed it to Jesus and He forgave me? I lay facedown in the backyard of Miss Linda’s bed-and-breakfast while fireballs burned away every bit of shame.”
“I remember.”
“You responded with kindness and understanding. How would I not do the same for you?”
“Because since then you learned I was far from the stellar man I pretended to be.” He smiled a slow smile.
“Tell me.” Jade slipped her hand into his and rested her head on his shoulder.
Max said nothing for a long moment. Jade thought she could hear his whispered prayers. “I’d been at the Outpost for about a month. I was mad, cranky, giving Axel a hard time. His method of rehab was pointing ranch residents to Jesus and the cross. Every time we got offtrack, he’d turn us around to face the cross. ‘All the help you need is right there.’
“My progress was slow. Then Axel called a fast. Three guys bolted that week and I almost went with them. But I thought of you and Asa, and I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Axel had a crude cross on the property that I could see from my bunk. During the fast, I’d lie on my side and watch the moon pass over the cross. One night while my stomach was growling, I started praying, ‘Lord, heal me. Fix me. I’m a wretch and a wreck.’ I realized that was the point of the cross. To be free from myself. A man can’t live free if he’s in debt to sin, and I was up to my eyeballs in debt.”
Jade listened, brushing away her tears.
“I started to cry. Just watery eyes at first, then sobs. I buried my face in the pillow to keep from waking the others. I wanted to slip out, but I couldn’t move. I felt like I was lying in a bed of warm oil. The more I wept, the thicker and warmer it became. I swear I heard Jesus say to me, ‘I have things for you to do. Come, follow me.’ Then He poured more oil. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cross, weeping, soaking in that oily sensation. By morning, I thought it was all a dream. But over
the weeks at the Outpost, I knew it was real. No more pains, real or phantom. No craving for meds. Love met me and lifted me out of my sin. I look back at the addicted Maxwell Benson and wonder, ‘Who was that guy?’”
Jade lifted her chin to his shoulder and started to speak. To say she believed him, that she loved him, and that she had something to tell him.
But no . . . not tonight. Not while they had moonbeams in their hair and the hum of the stars in their hearts.
Fifteen
At five ’til seven Tuesday morning, Max left the field house for the field. Dawn had just broken with a clear blue sky and the promise of a warm day.
Max gripped the Warrior duffel bag in his right hand, ignoring the chilly wash of nervous tension in his veins. He resettled his Warrior cap. The confidence and excitement from last night’s spontaneous booster party faded the closer he got to the field. Drifted away on the breeze with the last scent of spicy barbecue.
Max broke into a jog as he passed through the gate, anticipating a handful of boys on the field. He came around the south end of the home side bleachers. His coaches should be on the field. He crossed the running track. A ping of excitement trumped the nervous twist in his gut. He stepped onto the field.
And stopped.
Max was the first to arrive.
I can do this, Lord. I can do this.
He ran to the fifty yard line, dropped his duffel with an exhale, and waited. Seven o’clock and he remained alone.
Seven-o-five.
Seven ten.
Seven fifteen.
Max jogged across the field to the parking lot. Nothing. He ran the other way and surveyed the field house. He caught no movement.
Seven twenty.
He glanced down at the duffel bag. He’d planned to get the boys’ names and positions. Talk about goals and what it meant to really win. He was going to pass out the Warrior T-shirts he’d found in his office closet. That little room was a treasure of Warrior gear.
Seven thirty. Max reached down for the duffel, his heavy heart crashing against the walls of his chest. Did he really expect the boys to come? New coach, second day in town?
Yeah, he really did.
He expected his coaches to show up. Even Bobby Molnar, who’d yammered on and on last night over a plate of tangy pulled pork about how he expected Max to do great things.
As he turned for the field house, an abrupt, “Coach,” arrested his next step. A stout man wearing a worn Aggies hat jogged onto the field, huffing and puffing, and when he got to Max, he dropped to one knee, gulping for his next breath, his massive chest swelling.
“Sorry I’m late, Coach. It won’t happen again.”
“Late? You saved me from complete humiliation.” Max offered his hand. “Max Benson. And you are?”
“Coach Howard Hines. But folks call me Hines. Or Coach. I’m here to help, do whatever you need me to do.” An African American man, dressed for a day of coaching, approaching sixty-five or seventy, was the first ray of hope in Max’s short football coaching career.
“How’d you know about this?”
“Word’s out. New coach is in town. I’m the chief volunteer.” Hines rose to his feet. “I retired from coaching four years ago myself and the wife wanted to return to Colby. We grew up here.” He gestured toward the stands. “I was a Warrior back in the day. Played on two state championship teams. Fullback.
’59 and ’60. Course we didn’t have nothing near as grand as all this.” Hines propped his hands on his hips as he gazed around. “We used to run the cow pastures for PT. Lifted hay bales, tossed bags of feed. We were tough as nails.
The field turned to a mud bowl if it so much as sprinkled rain. The bleachers were half what you see here. But folks drove in from all over to watch us play.
Stand right along the field in their coats and hats until the final whistle.”
“So what happened to Warrior football?”
Hines jutted out his chin. “Got cocky. You start winning championships two or three times a decade, folks start expecting it. Demanding it. People moved to Colby so their boys could play for Coach Burke.” The old coach squinted at Max. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Burke was your age when he took over,” Hines said. “Twenty years later he was dead.”
“Are you saying coaching killed him?” Max absently ran his hand over the spot on his back where his phantom stress pains lived. Used to live.
“In a manner, yeah. He retired. Was dead two months later. The stress took its toll. The game becomes about everyone but you and the boys. It becomes about the school, the boosters, the community, then the biggest sin of all sets in. Pride. And that one gets in your bones and don’t let go. The more successful Burke became, the more stressed he got. Money poured into this place. I watched it all from my program in Georgia.” Hines flashed Max a fat, white smile. “I won a few state championships myself.”
“So why aren’t you coach instead of me?”
Hines laughed. “I told you, I retired. I like helping out these days. Besides . . .” The old coach glanced over his shoulder. “They’re . . . well . . . looking for a man like you, Max . . . Coach Benson.”
Max stared toward the field house. What did Hines see? Or not see? “What kind of man is that, Hines? Exactly?”
“You.” Hines widened his stance and folded his arms over his chest. He wore a red Warrior pullover and coach’s shorts. “First year the wife and I were back in Colby,” he said, “I enjoyed watching football from my easy chair. But then I got to itching to be around the boys, on the field, under the Friday night lights.” He popped Max on the back. “Besides, volunteering keeps me out of the house. And a happy wife is a happy Hines.” His chuckle rolled and billowed, and felt far away from Max.
“Tell me why we’re the only two here, Hines. If you heard about it, why didn’t the kids?”
“Would you come if you were in their shoes?”
“Yeah, I would . . . well . . . no, maybe not.”
“These boys have been burned and bruised. Coaches come and go.” Hines peered toward the field house again. “Five coaches in six years? What’s to say you ain’t number six?”
“So how do we build a program without kids?”
“Guess we roll up our sleeves and beat the bushes. Don’t wait for the boys to come here, we got to go there.”
“You’d go with me?” Max faced Hines head on.
“I know most of the kids. Been volunteering for three years now. I want to see you succeed, Coach. I’m tired of watching these kids suffer ’cause some eggheads back up in them offices are playing tug-of-war.”
“Tug-of-war? What tug-of-war? Hines, do you know something?” Jade’s voice echoed across Max’s mind. If it’s too good to be true . . .
“I only know what my heart sees. I’m not in the inner circles. Just an old retired volunteer. But something’s not right when a program can’t find a good coach and keep him. I mean, look at this place. I did ten times more in Georgia with ten times less. We should be funneling players all over the NCAA. But we’re not.” Hines edged his tone with frustration.
“You want a job, Hines?” If he was hired to build a program, might as well start from the ground up.
He regarded Max. “You offering?”
“I’m going to need coaches who can show up when I ask. You want offense or defense?”
“I know a great D coordinator so I’ll take the O. Run it with you, then help out on special teams. We running the spread or the option?”
“If I can get Calvin Blue, the option.”
Hines laughed. “You know ol’ Cal? He’s a good kid. Quick as a greased lightning but about as mule headed as they come. But surely he’d make our offense come alive.”
“So let’s convince his mule head to play for us.” Max tugged his duffel off the field and started for the field house. Hines fell in step with him. “I could use some help getting set up, then we can call some boys.”
Max liked Hines, sensed a kindred spirit. Not only a love for football but a love for the One who was true light. They’d make a good team.
Holding open the field house door for Hines, Max composed his dismissal speech for Lars Martin and Kevin Carroll.
Sixteen
When Jade arrived at 1207 Gallia Street in historic Colby, Kathy Carroll met her in the middle of the green lawn. A bright, rainless sky blanketed the day and a swelling heat kissed the early afternoon hours.
“So glad you could make it. Welcome, welcome.” Kathy was petite and trim with mounds of coal-colored ringlets bouncing about her face and shoulders.
“What? Miss a playdate and a stroll through a vintage lover’s candy store?” Jade laughed. “Not on your life.” She let Asa slip to the ground, then took his hand.
“I thought that’d hook you.” Kathy threaded her arm through Jade’s and guided her up the walkway to the Victorian house. “I told Kevin on the way home last night, ‘I’ve got to hang with that girl.’ Our husbands will be absorbed by the game and we’ll be football widows, comforting each other. We’ll be the best of friends. This is the first time a head coach has had a wife.” Kathy reached for the door. “Who knows, in twenty years or so, your son might just grow up to marry my daughter.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” A dig-deep-roots plan. The idea grounded Jade. Four days in Colby and she’d already made a few new friends and arranged a marriage for her son.
It’d been years since Jade had ventured out beyond Daphne and Margot, her college friends. But now she had her first mom friend, and a whole new luxurious world opened to her.
Jade paused in the foyer, a burst of glee on her lips. “Kathy, this is amazing.” The high walls were textured, bordered by etched, gleaming trim and molding. Her eye landed on a Victrola and what appeared to be an original Tiffany lamp. Even the air seemed to be from the nineteenth century.
“When you said you sold vintage clothes and what all back in Tennessee, I said to myself, Jade has got to see Nana’s house. You should see the clothes in her attic. I’m not sure they’re worth anything, but when we were kids, my cousins and I used them for dress up. What a hoot.”