by Gregg Stutts
She was trying to decide what to wear when her phone buzzed. She thought it might be Chris, but it wasn’t. She looked at the phone sitting on the bed, continuing to buzz. And then just before it rolled to voice mail, she picked it up, “Hello, Max.”
CHAPTER 28
Max was prepared to leave a voice mail this time. What he wasn’t prepared for was Michelle actually answering the phone. “Oh… hey, I, ah…wow…I wasn’t expecting you to answer,” Max said.
“Yeah, well, I did,” Michelle said. “What is it, Max?”
“I understand I haven’t made it easy, Shelle, I know that. And I’m really sorry.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I guess I was hoping we could talk about us,” Max said.
There was a moment of silence that felt a lot longer to Max. “I’m not sure there is an ‘us’ any more,” she said.
“Shelle, look, I understand how you feel. I…”
“You do, Max? You understand how I feel? You understand what it’s like to lose a daughter and then be rejected by your husband?” she said. “You understand?”
Max hadn’t expected that reaction. Obviously, she was hurting more than he’d realized. And that really was the problem—he hadn’t realized. Not now. Not a week ago. Not two years ago. He’d fully realized his own pain. He just wasn’t aware of hers. And hadn’t cared either.
“Shelle…I don’t know what to say,” Max said.
“Me either,” she said.
Max really didn’t know what else to say, at least not anything that would be helpful. He was wading through an emotional minefield and wasn’t sure where to step next. “Will you at least think about coming home?” he said. There was a long silence. He thought maybe the call had dropped or that she’d hung up. “Shelle?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I gotta go.” And she ended the call.
CHAPTER 29
“Michelle, it’s Mom. Can I come in? Are you okay in there? Baby, can I come in?”
Michelle opened her eyes and heard another knock at the door. “Yes, come in, Mom,” she said.
Her mother opened the door and came in. “I didn’t mean to wake you” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t see your car.”
“What time is it?” Michelle asked.
Her mother looked at her watch and said, “Almost 10:00.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Michelle said. “I got a ride home.”
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and said, “What time did you get in?”
“I think around 2:30,” Michelle said, rubbing her eyes.
Her mother rubbed Michelle’s shoulder through the covers. “Anything you want to talk about?” she asked.
For the next half hour, Michelle shared with her mother about the past few years and in particular, the past month or so. And then she told her about reconnecting with Chris and how good it felt to have someone actually care about her again.
Her mother waited until Michelle finished, then said, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wish I could make things better.”
“I know, Mom. Thank you. You and Daddy have been wonderful.”
Her mom kissed her cheek, then got up to leave. Just before she closed the door behind her, she said, “Where does all this leave you and Max?”
“I honestly don’t know, Mom.”
Her mother quietly closed the door. Michelle stayed in bed for another twenty minutes staring at the ceiling as she tried to sort out her feelings, feelings that had become a lot more complicated after being with Chris the night before.
CHAPTER 30
Max hadn’t slept well. He never really did the night before a game. He’d tossed and turned much of the night with a thousand thoughts running through his head. His mind kept flipping through his legal pad and the four game plans:
Springdale
Lakeside
Marriage
Me
At 5:10 a.m., he finally got up and made a pot of coffee and sat down with his notes. First, he turned to the Springdale plan. He still felt good about their chances to beat Springdale that night. They were coming in at 1-1. They’d lost to Fayetteville in week two in the “Battle of the Bulldogs”, so named because the two neighboring towns had the same mascot. Max was confident they could score against Springdale. And he knew he had a talented defensive unit. He’d lost his trust in Dave Turner though, which led to the next page.
Lakeside
Dave Turner
Jack Murphy
Ms. Jones (Dante’s mother)
Me
Max was more and more sure that Dave and Jack were out to get him fired. From what Bill Jackson had told him, Jack had always wanted Dave to have the job. Maybe they’d come up with a plan to sabotage the season, so Dave could take over. But what did Jack have at stake? Why would he care so much about Dave getting the head-coaching job?
Max looked at the last two names. His and Dante’s mother. He thought back to the day they’d talked, or not talked, in the parking lot at Feltner Brother’s. She was certainly still grieving, but it was more than that. She was scared. What was it she’d said—something about not being allowed to talk to him? Or not supposed to?
Just the sight of him had triggered her fear. If he could meet her privately, maybe she’d feel more freedom to talk. It was still too early to call. He’d wait until he was driving to school.
Max turned the page to the marriage game plan. Other than the words “Marriage Game Plan” written across the top, the page was still blank. He thought about the conversation he had with Michelle. It wasn’t much, but she hadn’t completely shut the door on their marriage.
What fire there might still be left for him in Michelle’s heart was now just the smallest ember. He hoped there was still time to fan it into a flame again. He remembered what it was like trying to light a fire with wet wood on camping trips. It was impossible. Maybe there was still a chance with Michelle though.
At breakfast the next day, he would ask Willy for any ideas that might give him a chance with Michelle. Until then, he’d have to put the marriage plan on hold. That left the plan to work on himself, and despite having more questions than answers, he at least felt like he was making progress. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He thought for a moment and realized he’d started to feel different after he’d asked God for help.
He just didn’t realize how much help he’d soon need.
CHAPTER 31
On his was to the school, Max called Ms. Jones’ cell number. He had no idea whether she’d answer or not, but much to his surprise, she answered on the second ring. She was not happy to hear from him and sounded at least as scared as she’d been the day he saw her in the parking lot.
Max asked if he could stop by to talk for a few minutes, but she refused. When he asked why she was so reluctant to talk to him, she said it didn’t matter and asked him to never call her again. Then she hung up.
Max arrived at the field house and got settled in his office, then went to start a fresh pot of coffee. He got it going and sat down at the conference room table and flipped through the newspaper from the day before. On page three, one of the headlines caught his attention: Accident Due to Brake Failure. The official investigation into Dante’s accident concluded his brakes had failed, which caused him to leave the road and strike the tree.
That was similar to what the police chief, Terry Cook, had told him. Max just couldn’t shake the feeling they’d somehow missed a key piece of evidence. Unless Dante’s car had sustained rear end damage between the time practice had ended and the time of the accident that night, then it must have happened during the accident. But how does a car sustain rear end damage in a collision with a tree?
Max read the article again. He pulled out his phone and found the picture he’d taken at the scene. It clearly showed damage to the back of Dante’s car. And skid marks on the street. He found a phone number for the Lakeside Police Department and asked for Terry Cook. A mom
ent later, he heard, “This is Chief Cook.”
“Hi chief, this is Max Henry,” he said.
“What can I do for you, coach?” Terry said.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I really didn’t know who else to call,” Max said. “I was just reading the article about the official cause of Dante Jones’ accident.”
“Coach, like it says in the paper, that case is closed. Accident was due to brake failure,” Terry said.
“Yeah, I know that, but I just had a question,” Max said. “I drove by there after the accident and noticed skid marks on the street that led right up to where Dante’s car left the road. Is it normal for a car to leave skid marks if the brakes fail?”
“Look, coach, I know you care about your players and are just trying to help, but I can assure you this was a solid investigation,” Terry said.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Max said. “I’ll let you go.” He almost said goodbye, but added, “So I guess the rear end damage on Dante’s car wasn’t significant either.”
There was silence on the line. It sounded like Terry put his hand over the phone and was talking to someone else. Then he said, “There was no rear end damage, coach.”
Max paused this time. He thought about telling him he had a picture of the damaged car and the skid marks, but didn’t. “Well, my mistake then, Chief. Sorry to bother you.”
Max poured a cup of coffee and sat back down. He replayed the conversation with Terry. And then he thought about the fear he’d heard in Ms. Jones’ voice. He just didn’t know what it all meant. Or if it meant anything at all.
Twenty minutes later, he was no closer to figuring anything out and he’d already wasted enough time on things that weren’t really his concern. He poured another cup of coffee before heading back to his office. It was time to let this go and get back to coaching football. And that’s what he decided to do until he got back to his office and found Jack Murphy sitting at his desk.
CHAPTER 32
“Well, good morning, Max,” Jack said. “I came in and couldn’t find you, so I thought I’d just sit down here and wait.” After a moment, he added, “I really thought you’d be at your desk working on tonight’s game.”
Max walked over to his desk and stood over Jack. “Excuse me,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me give you back your chair.”
Max sat down behind his desk. Jack took a seat across from him.
“Is there something I can help you with, Jack?” Max asked. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do, Max,” Jack said. “I’m sure you do…as busy as you’ve been.”
The two men stared across the desk at each other. Neither man blinked.
“If you’ve got something on your mind, then just say it, Jack.”
“Just came by to wish you luck tonight, coach,” Jack said with a forced smile. “That’s all.”
Max could feel his muscles twitching and his hand curling into a fist. He wanted nothing more than to knock that smile right off Jack’s face.
Jack stood up and walked to the door. As he was leaving the office, he stopped and turned to Max. “Oh, just one other thing. For your own good, keep your nose outta places it don’t belong.”
CHAPTER 33
Either Jack showing up was a coincidence or he’d come in response to one of two things—either his phone call with Dante’s mother or his phone call with Chief Cook. Or both. It couldn’t have been a coincidence though. He’d just given Max a warning.
Max felt like he was playing the game where you blindfold someone and give them something to find. When they get closer, you yell, “Warmer!” And when they moved in the wrong direction, you yell, “Colder!” Jack’s visit was like yelling out, “Warmer! Hot! Hotter!”
Max just couldn’t figure out what he was getting closer to. Why would Jack care if he talked to Dante’s mother or the police? And how would he have known about the calls? Would Ms. Jones have told Jack about Max’s phone call? Why would she?
Or was it the call to Chief Cook? Max had thought Terry was conferring with someone else during their conversation. But how could Jack have found out about that so fast? That made no sense. Why would the police tell Jack about a conversation with Max?
The more Max thought about it all, the more he realized how paranoid it all sounded. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really wrong.
But what was it? You don’t singlehandedly raise $23 million in a small town without wielding some power. Power meant connections. Influence. Cashing in favors. Pulling strings. Max made a few notes on his legal pad and slipped it back into his briefcase.
He was about to put his phone away when he thought again about the picture of Dante’s accident scene. The official version said there was no damage to the back of Dante’s car and no skid marks on the road, but Max had a picture right in front of him that said otherwise.
He wasn’t the most tech savvy person around, but he knew a phone could crash just like a computer. And he was looking at the only copy of a picture that directly contradicted the official police version of the accident.
He typed out a text message that said, “I can’t explain now. Just keep this picture.” He attached the picture to the message and looked again at what he’d typed. It wouldn’t make sense and would just raise questions, but he didn’t have time to go into the whole story and he couldn’t think of anyone else he really trusted. Satisfied with the message, he tapped “send.”
A moment later, over a thousand miles away, Michelle’s phone buzzed.
CHAPTER 34
At 9:00 a.m. Saturday morning, Max pulled his truck into Willy’s driveway. Max had offered to buy breakfast out somewhere, but Willy said Rose would enjoy fixing biscuits and gravy, eggs and bacon or anything else they wanted. As soon as Willy opened the door, Max could smell whatever was cooking and knew this would beat any restaurant in town.
Max shook Willy’s hand, gave Rose a hug and then followed Willy out onto the deck. It was a cool morning and most of the deck was still in the shade, which made the hot coffee that much better. Max took a sip and looked out over the lake. The water was completely still. The only sound was a light breeze blowing through the evergreens around Willy’s house. It was a perfect morning.
“Congratulations on the win last night, Max,” Willy said. “Read all about it in the paper this morning.”
“Thanks, Willy,” Max said. “We almost gave it away, but we’ll take a win anyway we can get it.” Max was thrilled to get a win, but it wasn’t how he would have drawn it up. His teams had always been known for their tough defense and balanced offense.
So many high school teams were adopting the spread offense and a hurry-up style of play. They put all their best players on the offensive side of the football and just hoped their defense could hold the opponent to one less point than the offense could score. That wasn’t the style of football Max believed in.
Of course you wouldn’t know it by the scores of their first three games. The defense was getting blown off the field and the offense was just trying to keep them in the games. They’d beaten Springdale 45-42. It would have gone to overtime, but after driving sixty yards in five plays right at the end of the game, Springdale’s kicker missed a 37-yard field goal as time expired. Max hadn’t watched any film yet, but he was sure he was going to see more evidence of Dave Turner making some very suspect defensive calls.
Rose brought out a tray of hot cinnamon rolls that were dripping with icing. “Max, you’ve got to try these,” Willy said. “Rose makes the best cinnamon rolls you’ve ever tasted. The best!”
“My mouth is watering already,” Max said as Willy slid one onto Max’s plate.
“Lord, thank you for a beautiful morning, for our friend Max and for these delicious cinnamon rolls. Amen,” Willy said. “Now take a bite and tell me that’s not the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”
The expression on Max’s face must have said it all, because Willy said,
“I told ya! Rose is the best!”
There were lots of things Max wanted to talk about, but he was busy helping himself to a second cinnamon roll. Willy’s mouth was full, too, so it wouldn’t have done any good to ask a question now.
In between bites, Willy asked, “Max, how’s it going with your wife? Have you had any contact with her?”
“Well, it’s not good, but I guess it could be worse,” Max said. “We talked briefly. I asked her to think about coming home.”
“And?” Willy asked.
“Said she’d think about it,” Max said as he wiped icing from his lips.