by Sara Evans
“Women . . . what?” Max took a page from Hines’s playbook and remained calm. “What do you mean accost? Like hit you?”
“One crashed into my grocery cart today and told me where you could go, Max. In front of Asa. I can endure the honking and yelling. It’s stupid and immature. People need to get a life. But today”—Jade fumed and steamed like Haley—“was the last straw. This insane, outside-her-mind woman let her kid spit on your son.”
“What?” Max scooted around the chairs and gripped Jade by the elbows, peering into her face. “Spit on Asa?”
“A big honking kid loogie. Right in front of me. His mother did nothing.
Oh no, wait, she scolded him for spitting on Asa instead of me!” Jade shifted into overdrive.
“Did you deck her?”
“Oh, believe me, I wanted to—but no one in the store would’ve backed me other than Dr. Gelman. She saw the whole thing.” Jade’s arms twitched with each syllable. “But I yanked the kid up and told him to never come near my son again. Rotten little brat. And then, she, monster-mom, threatens me with assault charges.”
“Whoa.” He’d never signed up for this. “Jade, I am so sorry.”
“Sorry? No, Max. That’s not going to cut it. I thought about this the whole way here. If it’s this bad now, what’s it going to be like when you start losing games?”
“I don’t think folks expect a winning season, Jade. They’re just ticked about me firing the coaches and hiring Haley.”
“So when you lose, they’re going to be happy? No, they’ll be livid. If you’d kept the old coaches, they’d have claimed you might have had a shot at winning one game.” Jade gripped his arms. “Max, we can’t stay here.”
“What? Not stay?” Was she serious? But the pop-snap in her tone told him she wasn’t joking around.
“We’re in a no-win situation, Max. Our son was spit on today. Spit. On. My heart broke for him. You know what he did? Ran after the kid. He wanted to play. Is this what you want for him? For his kind, innocent heart to be ruined by crazy people? I love football, you know that, but I hate this. Asa’s been through enough. We’ve been through enough. I was just starting to feel at peace. You might be able to weather all of this because you’re focused on doing a job, but I’m not. I feel abandoned, like the prey left behind for the vultures.”
Max captured her. Jade shivered against him. This wasn’t a panic moment.
Not even a decision in anger. She was serious about leaving.
“You want me to resign?”
“I’m not okay with our son being spit on, Max.” Jade pushed free of his arms. “If this was a permanent job, something you felt called to do for the rest of your life, then maybe I’d fight to stick it out. But why should we endure this abuse for the next five months only to end up back in Whisper Hollow? This ship is sinking, babe, faster than we can bail the water. I don’t want us to go down with it.”
Max adjusted his cap, bill in the back. If you felt called . . . he didn’t know it until now, but he did feel called. More every day. He couldn’t explain it, but this job made a part of his heart beat that he never knew existed.
“So, I’m resigning . . .” Max fixed his attention on her. How could he deny this woman? She forgave him. She raised his son. “Then what do we do?”
“Go back home. Or go to Prairie City, check out the old farmhouse. Or . . . or . . . hike the Adirondacks.”
“With a two-year-old?” Now she was talking crazy.
“Okay, then we go west. California. Hawaii,” Jade argued, weak and weepy. “Please, Max. This is not worth it.”
He exhaled, a lump in his chest. But it was worth it. He knew it. Even after Chip Mack’s scathing report, Max wanted to dig in and work.
“Answer me this and I won’t question you again. Did we miss God in coming here? Or have things just gotten a little hard and—”
“Dangerous.”
“All right, but did we miss God?” He held Jade’s gaze as she stood in a stiff stance. “I might renege on myself, on you even—but Jade, I’m not reneging on God. Done that too many times in the past. Life is too short to do it again.”
Jade focused on fixing Asa’s outfit. Adjusting his baby Nike sneakers.
“Babe?” Max studied her. “You want to go home. Or at least . . . leave here?”
She nodded. Once.
“Then I’ll resign tomorrow.”
“Max—” Hines ran into the office. “Say hey, Jade. Come on out, you got to see this.”
“I thought you left.”
“Oh, Haley got me all interested in watching film. I’m telling you, she’s a football pied piper.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
The music of their footsteps filled the hall. Hines, Max, Jade hoisting Asa.
Just outside the field house, in the red and gold summer twilight, a dozen boys stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge of the field. The wind swept through the stadium, rattling the bleachers. They’re here. They’re here.
Max scanned their faces. Tucker. Brad. Colton. Dale and Sam. Noah.
Excitement traveled through him. But his heart didn’t light up until he identified the last man on the field. Calvin.
“Good evening, gentleman. What can I do for you?” Max moved forward, hands anchored on his hips. They dinked around with him for a week? He was going to make them earn admittance to the team.
Calvin stepped forward. “We came out to play, Coach.”
“I see. You want to play Warrior ball for me, Coach Hines, and Coach Porter?”
“We do.”
“Where have you been all week?”
“I didn’t know about it.” Tucker jumped forward, panicked.
“Tuck,” Calvin reproved in a harsh whisper. “Be cool.”
“What made you change your mind, Calvin?”
“You fired the assistant coaches.” The others nodded agreement. “And we want to play.”
“Then you know this is my team, my way.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“All right. Two-a-days start in ten days. Seven a.m. and four p.m. You don’t show, you don’t play.” Max glanced at Jade, who stood transfixed.
Calvin nodded, gazing at his boys. “We in, Coach. We all in.”
Nineteen
Jade rolled off the air mattress. Asa’s sharp knees had drilled her for the last time. He’d crawled into bed sometime last night and curled against Max, raising his knees into her back.
She wanted a real bed. She wanted . . . she didn’t know what she wanted. Jade wandered through the house, and gradually onto the porch steps, sitting in the pearlescent glow of the moon falling through the birch tree branches.
She’d dreamed of the events on the field tonight. Seeing the boys’ faces and hearing Calvin’s, “We all in, Coach.”
The look on Max’s face? Sheer joy. But she wanted to move. Get out of Dodge. Run. Because she always ran when circumstances squeezed.
In fact, her battle with fear and panic was just another form of running. Or even worse, the fear she couldn’t outrun. Did she want to run from Colby because of a few rude rednecks? Did she want to wipe out the precious expression she saw on Max’s face tonight?
But a kid spit on Asa. How could she reconcile that?
“Jade?” Max’s voice drew her from her thoughts. “On the porch again?”
“No place to sit inside.” He lowered down next to her. “Besides, it’s nice out here. I feel like it’s one big room. Grass carpet, starlight ceiling.”
“Something on your mind?”
“Besides Asa kneeing me in the back?” She grabbed her hair away from her face.
“I know . . . he got me in the side.” Max laughed softly, rubbing his hand right below his ribs.
“I always run, don’t I?” Jade said.
“Is that what you think?” Max’s eyes appeared like twin stars beneath his dark brow.
“How many games do you think you might have won?�
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“I asked God for two wins. For the kids. Give them a spark of hope.”
“Two games? That’s one more than they won last year.”
Max smiled. So white and perfect. So heart-melting. “I thought I’d start small, give God a chance to overcome our odds.”
“You mean the God who turned water into wine, who calmed a storm, who walked on water. That God?”
“The God that sent us here.”
“You don’t want to go, do you?”
“No, I don’t. But I can’t choose football over you, Jade.” Max ran his hand over her hair. “Since I was Asa’s age, expectations were put on me. I was the prince of Benson Law. The heir apparent. I didn’t mind, really, but I never even considered another career. A lawyer life is a good life. A privileged life.
But this coaching job feels like a calling, Jade. It satisfies me in a deep place. I don’t feel restless anymore. Today, when Channel 13 ripped me and the team, I felt the stress but my back didn’t twinge or tighten once.”
“Max.” Jade laced her fingers through his. “I don’t want to teach Asa to run. I don’t want to subject him to my fears.”
“But if you don’t feel safe, Jade—”
“Earlier, you asked me if I believed God sent us here. I do believe He did, and if I ask you to leave, I’m telling God no. And I don’t want to tell Him no.”
“Jade.” Max brushed his hand along the base of her neck so chills crept down her spine. “Don’t mess with me. What are you saying?”
“That I’m going to believe God for two wins.”
Max lunged for her and grabbed her in a massive hug, rolling her back on the porch boards. She buried her scream in his chest.
Max rose up on his elbows. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t move.” He scrambled up and into the house, his footsteps thundering. When he returned, something was gleaming in his hand. “I meant to give this to you today. But then we got distracted.” A gold chain dangled from his fingertips, glinting in the mosaic light of the heavens. “It’s an anklet made of two gold and one platinum braid. One for you, one for me—” Max’s soft touch traced Jade’s calf as he raised her leg to fasten on the anklet. Shivers fired beneath her skin. “And one for Jesus. The One who holds us together.”
“When did you get this? It’s beautiful.”
“Before we left. I wanted to give it to you as a surprise.” Max tenderly kissed the top of her foot, moving his lip to her ankle, then to her shin.
“Max . . .” Jade closed her eyes and let the weight of the chain and the softness of his kisses ease the burden from her heart. It was good to say yes to Jesus as the man she loved embraced her.
“Look, Jade, I’m not a perfect husband. A far from perfect coach. But I have to try.”
“Maybe learning to trust God and each other is part of what this journey is all about.”
Max brought her to her feet, and taking her in his arms, turned a slow, sexy sway, and sang a soft song in her ear. you are in my arms the nightingale tells his fairy tale
Jade closed her eyes and rested against his heartbeat.
When he lifted her chin and softly kissed her, she rose on her toes in response, free from reserve, free from fear. Trust had fully come home.
Twenty
“Offensive line, stay with your blocks.” Max moved through the middle of the shredded play and grabbed Brad Schmidt by the shorts, driving him toward the supposed hole on the line. “This is where you’re supposed to be.”
“I know, Coach, but I couldn’t get through.”
“Exactly. You’re supposed to make a way, Brad. You got a tailback coming behind you looking to get into the secondary.”
Third week of practice and the boys remained disorganized and unfocused. School had started two days ago, and as much as Max would love to blame the broken plays and lack of energy on schoolwork, he couldn’t.
The problem was his stupid coaching. He had no idea what he was doing. Hines offered ideas and advice but he worked too hard at being just an assistant. Well, that worked well if the head coach knew what the flip he was doing.
To compound matters, the boosters and parents sat in the stands every afternoon and watched.
Three weeks of summer practice, including a week of two-a-days, hadn’t brought the boys together. He thought they were just feeling their oats, young bucks clashing with young bucks, adjusting to a new set of coaches. But the boys stayed in clusters of class and skill. Rich verses poor. Skill players verses linemen.
The boys came to a PE class Chevy let him have every afternoon during school. Then at four thirty for regular practice. But he had no team. He had nothing. During summer practice, he’d gathered a team of forty. But, only— what?—ten or so had any skill. On either side of the ball.
Max backed off the line. “Let’s run it again, Coach Hines. Brad, you’re lead tackle. Everyone stay with your assignment until the ball carrier is nothing but heels and elbows for the end zone.”
Coach Hines blew his whistle. “On the line.” The boys dropped with one hand on the ground. Noah called the play and handed off to Calvin, who ran into a brick wall of defense. Hines whistled the play dead.
Haley praised her defense. “There you go. Way to read the run.”
“Do you think they’re doing it on purpose?” Max lifted his hat, letting the air cool his head. “Not running the play?” He looked up as Haley joined the huddle.
“They’re not even trying. We’re never going to be ready for our game next week.”
Max blew his whistle to gather the team. “Everyone take a knee.” He returned to Hines and Haley. “I’m open to any ideas. Our offense is sloppy. We have no kicking game. And that’s the first time the D’s read any of the plays right, Haley.”
“No argument there, Max.”
“Coach, do you want me to keep practicing?” Tucker Walberg ran over from the sideline where Max had him doing a hundred kicks off the tee into a net. So far, tripping over his own feet was proving to be Tucker’s main athletic ability.
“Take a knee, Tuck.” Max ruffled his hair as the teen ran past. “They look defeated and disinterested. Like they don’t want to be here.”
“They want to be here, Coach.” Hines popped his hand on Max’s shoulder. “They just don’t want to give their hearts. It hurts to lose. It hurts to be laughed at.”
“If they gave their hearts, we’d not lose or get laughed at.”
“But that’s not their experience.”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s take them in the film room, watch more film. Hines, go over the option again with Noah and Calvin.” Max scanned his clipboard. Chevy wanted a report at the end of the week.
“You know what I think?” Haley said. “They’ve been working hard. Tell them you’re proud of them, Max, and send them home.”
He regarded her for a moment. She brought a soft touch to the program Max liked. “Listen up.” He faced the kneeling team. “You boys have been working hard and we’re proud of how hard you’re working.”
A rumble rose from deep in the group and Calvin Blue popped to his feet. Noah Warren jumped up to face him, hands fisted.
“Say that to me again, Noah,” Calvin growled.
“Hines—” Max motioned for him to go left while he moved right.
“I said you’re a show-off, Blue.” Noah pushed the tailback in the chest. “You’ve got no team spirit.”
“And you do? Ooh, look at me everyone.” Calvin mimed a pass. “I can throw the ball a country mile. Great, you can throw a long bomb but you can’t pitch it five yards.”
“If you’re so good, you QB, Blue.”
“I can’t. I have to run the ball ’cause all y’all girls are too slow. I can’t be the whole team, Warren.”
“Who you calling a girl?” Noah shoved Calvin again.
“You. Want to do something about it?”
Brad stood with Calvin. Colton lined up with Noah. Max stayed behind th
e circle. Top dogs duking it out. This was good. The underlying tension was finally erupting.
“Look, Noah, all you got to do is run the play Coach calls. Don’t improvise and do something different. Simple, my granny could do it. She could pass better too.”
Oh, Calvin, bad move. Max moved through the boys just as Noah threw the first punch. Hines blew his whistle. “Focus. Focus. Eyes on me.”
He waded through the team, grabbing the boys by the pads and tossing them out of the way.
But the fight was on. The boys imploded and Max saw nothing but heels and elbows.
“Break it up.” Max worked through the wall of smell and sweat. Tomorrow, a hygiene talk.
Hines whistled his way through, reaching in, grabbing a kid and tossing him out of the pile. But he jumped right back in. Unlocked tension was a frightening force.
Then the oddest sound arrested them all. A shrill whistle and the bass bellow of Haley. “Enough!” She surged through the pile, yanking boys by the collar and tossing them to the ground like they were paper. “Get on your feet and start running.” The boys stared at her, panting. “I said run. Now! Don’t stop until my whistle blows. If you do, you’re giving me fifty push-ups. Better hope your mamas are keeping dinner warm—this is going to be a long run.”
Haley looked back at Max with a wink. “I said run.”
The boys jumped together and started for the track.
Hines bent forward, hands on his knees, panting. “If you have any lingering regret about her, Max, you best give it up now.”
Max watched Haley run alongside the boys, backward, striding in time with them, ordering them forward.
“Oh, it’s gone, Hines. Completely gone.”
Twenty-one
When the truck headlights fired through the living room window, Jade jumped up from the sofa. Sofa!
The furniture arrived a day after she’d surrendered her fears and welcomed trust into her heart. Then Ellen Feinberg, a woman she met at the church Mom’s Meeting, called for a playdate. Her youngest was the same age as Asa. They had three playdates scheduled for the next week—and Ellen didn’t seem to despise Max for firing the old coaches and hiring new.