by Sara Evans
Jade sat up, her heart careening. “Twins?” Jade said in perfect harmony with Max.
“Twins.” Dr. Gelman gentled her back down. “It’s probably why you were having trouble tonight, Jade. Your body’s setting up to care for two babies instead of one.” She slid the wand over Jade’s abdomen. “Looks like one sack.
So they’re identical.”
“Twins?” Her voice shook, her heart soared.
“Dr. Gelman, are you sure?” Max said.
“Well, 99 percent. Look, there’s her hand.” Dr. Gelman shifted her gaze from the monitor to Max, then Jade. “Can’t tell for sure, but they’re showing signs of being girls.”
Jade peeked at her rounding belly glistening with gel. “Dr. Gelman, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Five minutes ago, she prayed one would survive. Now she had two—kicking and healthy.
“I don’t lie about babies. And I never joke about twins.” She maneuvered the wand for a better look, pressing Jade’s sides to see if the babies would move. But baby B remained cloaked by baby A. “I guess we can tell which one takes after Max.” Dr. Gelman grinned, tapping the image of baby A on the screen.
He laughed, a stunted, staccato sound followed by a cough and an eek. His summer tan had faded from his cheeks this fall, but this news made them instantly white. Ghostly white. His throat constricted with each breath and swallow.
“Two girls,” he said, his voice wobbly but passionate. “And we have a house full of boys right now.”
“Get used to it.” Dr. Gelman put the wand away and cleaned the gel from Jade’s belly. “If these two look like their mama, you’re always going to have a house full of boys.”
“I need to sit down.”
Dr. Gelman’s laugh chased Jade’s. “Man up, Max. Coaching football will seem like a cakewalk compared to this.”
“I know . . . and I’m not doing a great job as coach.” He sobered, sitting straight, surprised by his vocal heart confession to the doctor.
“You are a great coach. And if you raise your kids with half the passion you’ve poured into those boys this year . . .” Dr. Gelman took a measurement and snapped the image. “You’ll have a beautiful family.”
Jade shot him an I-told-you-so look because she could. And it was fun.
Upon consultation and discussion, Dr. Gelman admitted Jade for the night. Just to be safe. Her long emerald gown swirled and swayed beneath her lab coat as she addressed the night nurse. A strand of her golden hair slipped free from the knot and looped about her neck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, squeezing Jade’s hand. “This is good news, isn’t it? I’m thrilled for you. Max, good game against Lubbock. A bunch of us were hovered in a corner of this snoozer fund-raiser listening to the game on an iPad.”
“Not one for the W column, but our best game yet.”
“Against a good team. Be proud, Coach. Hold your head up. You’re winning this town’s heart. And that’s not easy to do.” Dr. Gelman headed out of the room. “ ’Night, darlings.”
The sweet silence of good news lingered in the room long after she’d gone. The nurse checked Jade’s IV, then showed her the call buttons in case she needed anything.
When she was alone again with Max, he bent his face to hers, nearly nose to nose. “Score, Mrs. Benson. Twins.”
“Way to go, Mr. Benson.”
He grabbed and kissed her hand. “I think my heart stopped beating when she said twins.”
“Are you happy?”
“Delirious. Best news of my entire life.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. “Twins.”
“It’s on now, Coach. We’re going from one to three in six months.”
“Bring it.” A sober glint flashed in his eyes. “You want to go home? Be near the folks. The McClures? Our house in Whisper Hollow is big enough. All we have to do is fly home and unpack our suitcases. We’re set with friends and community.”
“You’d go back to Benson Law?”
“Yeah, of course. Got to earn a living, keep my chicas in the fine clothes and jewels to which my mother will make them accustomed.”
“But you don’t want to go back, really, do you?”
He twisted his lips. “This changes the game plan, Jade. Coaching is more than a full-time job. I can’t help you much once the season starts. Some dreams just need to stay in the hip pocket.”
“But if you could have any job you wanted. What would it be?”
He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “Coach.”
“Then be a coach, Max. If they’ll have you. Go for your dream.”
“But what about you? Your dream? Your shop?”
“I have my dream, Max.” The tears surged and overflowed the corner of her eyes. “Right here. Holding my hand.”
Thirty
“It was quite a Friday night under the lights. Expected wins and a few upsets. But one near upset almost turned Randall County high school football upside down. Chip Mack is here to give us the story.” The shot moved from Channel 13’s newsroom to Chip Mack standing on the sidelines of Warrior Field.
Max aimed the remote to raise the volume a bit, careful not to wake Jade. She looked peaceful, breathing deep and even.
“That’s right, DeeAnne, I’m standing on the sidelines of Warrior Field where the Colby High Warriors nearly knocked off the top ranked Lubbock Westerners. It was a brutal defensive battle all night. The talented Haley Porter’s defense dominated and silenced all doubters.”
“Yet your lips are still moving,” Max muttered.
“Even though this is another L for Coach Max Benson, it’s a W for the Warrior spirit. The night’s biggest win came when sixteen-year-old Tucker Walberg hit his first ever field goal to give the Warriors a one-point lead. Pay close attention, DeeAnne, because this is Sports Channel 13’s Play of the Week.”
Play of the Week? Max sat up, eyes glued to the tube, watching the clip of Tucker lining up, making the kick. It was flawless. Hours and hours of practice formed him into the perfect kicker. If he got his head in the game, backed up his confidence with belief . . .
A thrill drummed Max’s heart. He had a kicker. A darn good kicker.
The hospital room phone rang. Max frowned as he hurried around the bed to answer. Who would be calling here now?
“Hello?”
“Max, you seeing this?”
“Hines?”
“I called your phone but it went to voice mail.”
“Yeah, it’s at the field house.”
“You see Channel 13?”
Max faced the mounted TV again. “The kick?”
“Woo-hoo, son, we got us a kicker. In forty years of coaching, I’ve never seen a high school kicker with that kind of form. We drill some confidence into the kid’s head and we’re going to state. Oh listen, they got man on the street interviews.”
Max boosted the volume a touch. A man in Lubbock-wear was talking into a Channel 13 mike. “It was a good game. Better than I thought. Scary when they went ahead.”
Flash to a man in Warrior attire. “Coach Benson is doing a good job. I didn’t know when he came in if he could do it. Who hires a coach with no experience, but he’s really brought these boys together and created a team. I like him.”
A crowd shot of fans leaving the game generated a “Go Warriors” rally.
“Don’t look now, Max, but you’re winning. Got no Ws in the win column, but you’re winning.”
Max glanced back at Jade. “More than you know, Hines. More than you know.”
To: Aiden, Willow
From: Jade
Subject: Twins3132! Girls33!! (We think)
Need I say more?
XO, Jade
Dear Lillabeth,
I’ve been thinking and praying all weekend, talking to Max, and I’m confident this e-mail to you is the right thing for me. For all of us.
As much as I’d like to think I’m superwoman enough to run the business with a toddler and tw
ins, I’ve decided to let go of the shop. I know, just when the Southern Life cover hit the stands. Thank you for following up on that for me. You don’t know how much I am at ease knowing you are covering the Blues.
I’ve heard nothing on the Blue Two. Not one nibble. Well, in this economy, what can I expect? But Max and I have really been putting it to prayer.
The football season is one game away from ending. We’re not sure what the future holds. Max has meetings this week to see if the principal and boosters want to keep him for another year. Or two. Or five. Or twenty. He loves it, Lilla.
Loves it. I’ve never seen him more stressed but so at peace. A win would be nice.
Boost everyone’s confidence.
All that to say, I want you to have the shop. You’ve been so generous and loyal to me, running the shop almost all year while taking classes, I am full of gratitude for you. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the business. You love vintage. You have a fabulous eye. You’re studying business. You could take these shops where I never could.
I know it’s a big commitment. And with Aaron being deployed, you can’t know of your options or future, but I want you to know, the shops are yours, Lillabeth. My gift to you.
Think about it. Let me know when you’re ready.
With love and thankfulness, Jade
Monday morning Max unlocked his office with his thoughts already on Friday night’s game. Amarillo. The best team in the district. 10–0.
Max didn’t miss the irony. The best team in the district ending their regular season playing the worst. He’d started the Warrior season with the goal of winning one, maybe two games. Now all he wanted was to end with some dignity and self-respect. Not to let the Sandies pummel them into the field.
He dropped to his chair and powered up the iMac, stretching his legs, rubbing his eyes. First order of business when the season ended? Sleep.
Might be his last chance for the next twenty years. He may not coach football, but he’d be raising Asa, and twins, and prayerfully a baby or two more. If he could, he’d move Tucker in, but he and Jade had talked, concluding it would be the final straw for Mariah. Tucker was the one thing that kept her from flying off and going completely wild.
Instead, they’d fold both Tucker and Mariah into their extended family.
Along with Gus and Lorelai. The notion popped a smile on his lips. Saturday night he and Jade made calls home.
Dad and Mom. Max’s ear rang for an hour after Mom’s scream. “Twins! I can’t believe it. Oh my stars . . . Jade, I’m throwing you the biggest shower. Here . . . there . . . wherever you are. I have a million things to do.”
Next Jade wanted to call the McClures. When she said they were going to be grandparents again, Lorelai burst into tears and left the call. Gus tried to carry on, stoic and hard like always, but his voice broke every other word with long, watery pauses.
Jade called Lillabeth. Max called his old friend and accountability partner, Tripp. Jade called her college roommates, Daphne and Margot. Max called Hines and Haley, and Chevy. His college roommates were party animals and partly responsible for his moral demise in Vegas. He’d distanced himself from them for a while. But next time he was in the Hollow, he’d grab a game of golf with them.
Last he called Axel. He owed the man for showing him the tools Max already possessed in Christ to overcome.
The bell rang for the first class to dismiss. Max logged into his e-mail, catching an immediate flood of congratulations and forwarded links from the local press.
He wasn’t sure where he stood with Chevy or Bobby, but from what he was reading, Max was gaining favor with the community. One kid was quoted saying he planned to play for Coach Benson next year.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Max looked up when they ceased at his door. Bobby Molnar stood in the doorway, Chevy Buchholz in tow.
“We need to talk.” Bobby’s tone and expression told Max this meeting wasn’t about a good game on Friday night.
“Come in.” Max rose, motioning for them to take a seat on the sofa.
Bobby’s demeanor said confrontation. He kept his gaze steely and level, his chest puffed, his jaw taut. Chevy on the other hand looked beat down, defeated. His shoulders drooped and his eyes studied the floor as he took a seat on the sofa. When he sat, he exhaled weariness.
“Get to it, Bob. Might as well ruin everyone’s Monday morning.” Chevy slapped his hand on his leg, then absently brushed his fingers over his slacks. A nervous habit, Max knew, wishing today’s issue could be brushed away like lint.
“Is this about me leaving the game Friday night?” Max straddled one of the chairs by his desk.
“No, but you might wish it was when I’m done.”
“Bob, come on, just tell him why we’re here.” Chevy’s pencil-thin expression twisted with frustration. He smoothed his solid blue tie. Ran his hand over his clipped gray hair.
The athletic director pulled a baggie from his pocket and shook it in front of Max. Percs. “Look familiar?”
“No, Bobby, they don’t.” The pills were in the same baggie Jade had found in Max’s drawer. But he’d flushed them.
“Wasn’t Percocet your drug of choice, Benson?” Bobby tossed them to the desk. “Why you spent three months at the Outpost?”
“Max, are you using?” Chevy asked the perfunctory question in monotone.
“I am not using. No, sir.” Max stood to meet Bobby’s challenge, hands propped on his belt. He was not ashamed. He had nothing to hide.
“There you go, Bob. He’s not using. Good enough for me.” Chevy smacked the leather cushion next to him and stood to go. “Great game Friday night, Max. Tucker’s kick was the high school play of the week.”
“Tucker’s worked hard this season. His form was perfect.”
“You made a kicker out of mere clay, Max.” Chevy nodded. “Good job.”
“Excuse me, Chevy, but kicker or not, I found a baggie of illegal prescription drugs in your head coach’s office.”
“Those aren’t mine.” Max corralled his temper. This was fourth down with goal to go and he needed his cool. Getting into his emotions would only fuel Bobby’s fire. “But it does seem to me Bobby has a mighty large bag of Percs.
Where’d you get them?”
“You can deny it all you want, but I found these in your office, Max.”
“What were you doing in my office?” Max removed his coach’s hat and donned his lawyer attire. “Did you have a reason to be in here?”
“I needed your compliance report. All of the other coaches submitted theirs on time, so I came in on a Saturday looking for you and the report. Found a baggie of pills instead. I have to tell you, I was shocked, Max. I expected way more of you.”
Max inhaled. He needed to think. Saturday. He’d worked a few hours in the morning. Then came in for a few hours in the afternoon. He’d filed his report that morning—electronic and printed copy. So, when did Bobby come looking for his report?
“Trying to figure out your story?” Bobby said.
Trying to figure out yours.
Chevy dropped back down the couch, face in his hands.
“And where did you find these pills?” Was there another stash in here? How?
“Sitting right on top of your desk. Which also surprised me because your reputation hints you’d be a lot more crafty about hiding your habit.”
“On my desk?” It made no sense.
“I’m calling you up on charges.”
“Charges for what?”
“Illegally obtaining prescription drugs. Maybe planning to distribute to the boys.”
Max reined in, jaw taut, fighting not to explode upside Bobby’s feeble brain. “Chevy, are you just going to go along with him?”
“He’s got the evidence, Max.”
“I hardly call this evidence. How about witnesses? A confession from a dealer? From whom did I buy these? I’m the head coach of the football team. I can’t hide very easily.”
“You can
buy anything you want,” Bobby said. “Or find any dealer name you want.”
“Who else is on your Bobby Molnar team? My coaches? Rick Lundy?”
“There’s no team, Max. Except the Warriors. You seem a bit defensive.”
Max appealed to his jury. “Chevy, those are not my pills. I’ll take a drug test.
Daily if you want. But I’m clean.”
“Doesn’t mean these aren’t your pills, Max,” Bobby interrupted.
“If they were, do you think I’m stupid enough to keep them here?”
“You’re the drug addict. You tell me.”
That’s right, just keep saying it, thinking Chevy will believe it. Max knew this method of repetition, saying it over and over until the jury or the judge believed it.
Max lunged at Bobby, shoving him into the sofa. His head cracked the wall.
“You want me out of the way so you can coach this team? You do it fair and aboveboard. But don’t you dare try to frame me or hurt my family or these boys in any way.” He jerked Bobby by the collar as he stepped back. “Get out.”
“Are you going to let him treat me like this, Chevy? He assaulted your A.D.”
Chevy stood. “Get out, Bob, I need to talk to Max.”
Bobby hesitated, silently refusing. Then, “I’m calling a press conference for this afternoon. You’ll resign due to . . . whatever you want. You’re needed at the law firm. Family obligations. I don’t care. But resign. I’ll take over as coach for this last game and post season. Chevy?”
“I’ll talk to you upstairs.”
“See you at four o’clock, Max. On the field.”
The door closed and Max faced Chevy. “You’re going to let him walk over you, me, the entire program like this?”
“I called Axel when Bobby came to me. He vouches for you, Max. I believe you’re clean, but illegal drug use, prescription or otherwise, won’t fly. The mere accusation dirties your name and reputation as well as me, the school, and the program.”
“What about innocent until proven guilty?” Max wanted to blurt the truth, that Jade had found an identical bag of pills a few days ago. But he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of Chevy’s loyalties—to his new coach, or to his school, his A.D. and longtime friend.