"Brace yourself," Joe advised cheerfully, then called out a booming, "Hi, kids!"
Mattie was caught in the middle of the pandemonium that ensued. There was a general joyful outcry of "Joe!" from a score of childish voices, then a mass rush toward their hero. Mattie almost went down in the onslaught— would have, in fact, had it not been for Joe's protective grip around her waist. Mattie didn't even think about being afraid of his touch. She just felt... warm.
Joe, meanwhile, was greeting each child by name with a smile and a special comment. "Jimmy, have you been practicing your pitching? One of our Texas teams is sure going to need you in a couple of years." Or, "Mandy, you got your shoes on the right feet! But I see you saved me the honor of lacing them up, at least.'' And, to one of the children in a wheelchair, "Tomas, I hear you've got that chair doing wheelies and burning rubber. Practicing for the Indy 500?"
The children plainly adored him. Mattie felt her heart melting and forming a puddle at her feet. He had probably spent his whole life healing birds with broken wings in one form or another.
Mattie turned away to scan the room with intense interest. She inched closer to Joe to make herself heard over the excited babble of children hanging on him.
"She doesn't appear to have joined your fan club." Mattie nodded to a little girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, who sat alone on the opposite side of the room. She exhibited no interest in their arrival, not even raising her eyes to them. It was as though she were in a separate room and alone within its walls.
"That's Janie." Joe's voice was steady, but grim enough to draw Mattie's eyes to his face questioningly. There she saw the tightness of his jaw and a kind of fierce anger banked in his eyes. "And no, I wouldn't say she's a fan of mine—or any man."
"Is she a problem child?" Mattie probed tentatively.
"No more than she's been forced to be," Joe answered enigmatically.
"What do you mean?"
Joe did not immediately answer. Instead he bent down to the clutch of children surrounding them and instructed them to choose sides for what was evidently a well-worn tradition when Joe visited—a football game. They went scurrying outside with shrieks of joy. Only then did Joe turn back to face Mattie.
"Joe...?"
"Janie was sexually abused by her father from the time she was four years old," he told her with a kind of restrained grimness that only served to emphasize his fury. "She does not communicate well with people as a result of that abuse. She is terrified of men in general, and perhaps me more than most, they tell me, because of my size." Joe's tone, if possible, became even grimmer. "Her father was evidently my height and weight, so naturally she feels I'm going to hurt her the way that bastard did."
There was real pain in Joe's voice, but Mattie, pale and trembling, barely heard it.
"Her father?" she repeated hoarsely. "Her own father did—that to her?"
"Janie's mother finally found out what was going on," Joe continued flatly. "Oh, not because Janie told her—the scum told Janie her mother would be angry with her if she found out that he loved Janie more than he loved her mother. Janie's mother just came home unexpectedly, and—" Joe broke off in disgust, his eyes focused on Janie across the room. "They divorced. Janie's mother was brave enough—or foolish enough—to press charges. He was convicted, and now on top of everything else, Janie lives with the fact that her father is in prison because of her. At least, that s how she sees it. There are no winners in a situation like that, just losers. They lost all the way around. Janie lost a father, her mother lost a husband, and he killed something inside of that child that could have been so beautiful—"
Joe broke off abruptly as his eyes moved from Janie to Mattie. Her face was white, completely drained of color, and her lips, pressed tightly together to prevent them from trembling, were bloodless.
"Mattie! Are you all right? You look like you're going to faint." His arm moved to support her but dropped immediately as she struggled from his hold.
"Mattie?" Joe's voice was wary now. It had been a long time since Mattie had flinched from his touch. Not since the evening he had come to her cottage after losing the game had she run from him. What hell was she revisiting now?
"I'm fine," Mattie answered, her voice strained and pathetically unconvincing as she tore her eyes from Janie's hunched little figure to meet Joe's concerned gaze. "I'm fine. Let's go meet some of these kids of yours. They seem like a pretty lively bunch." She all but ran outside after the children and never looked toward Janie.
Joe studied her stiff back with grave eyes, then turned to look at Janie. What had Mattie seen that had frightened her so?
It was more than thirty minutes later when Joe emerged from a cheerful and highly competitive football game and noticed that Mattie was no longer cheering both teams on from the sidelines. With a pang of concern, he searched the yard for her. Where could she be? A change of quarterback was quickly accomplished, and Joe slipped away from the rowdy contest.
He found her in the playroom, sitting across from Janie. They were separated by a table, not touching, not talking to each other, although Mattie's voice could be heard as she contemplated the child's puzzle in front of her.
"No... that won't fit there. But if I move it here—" her hand shifted the puzzle piece to another corner "—then I can't put this here." She frowned and rested her chin on her hands. She had obviously been working at this for a while.
Neither moved for a long moment, and Joe, from his position in the doorway, had the impression that Mattie was holding her breath. Then slowly, very slowly, Janie slid toward the puzzle and silently fit the pieces together.
"Hey, no fair! I bet you've done this puzzle before."
Janie's eyes rose to meet Mattie's with a small, tentative smile in their depths. But the smile died instantly as her eyes lighted on Joe in the doorway.
Joe could almost feel her withdrawal and flinched inwardly. Mattie swung around to locate the cause.
"Joe! I thought you were playing football."
Joe shifted awkwardly in the doorway, wanting to stay but torn by the need to leave and erase the swift fear in Janie's eyes. Mattie read the situation quickly. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she rose and walked to Joe's side, then took his hand in hers. She felt that strange bolt of emotion that was becoming fearfully familiar to her but refused to drop his hand under Janie's watchful gaze.
"Janie, this is my friend, Joe. Have you met him?"
Janie watched with wary eyes as they drew closer, but said nothing, studying their clasped hands.
"Hi, Janie," Joe tried tentatively, his tone gentle.
Janie did not answer, did not even appear to hear him as her eyes fixed on some object over his left shoulder.
The tension in the room was thick, and Joe's hands tightened unconsciously around Mattie's, crushing the delicate bones. She flinched involuntarily, a small cry forced from her lips, and Janie's head snapped around. She saw the pain in Mattie's face and began to tremble, sliding back on the floor. Tears poured from her eyes, yet she made no sound. Her gaze was locked on Joe in abject terror, and Mattie flinched at the sight. It was the same look an animal, dying of abuse, cast its tormentor, and in a child it was agony to witness.
Although Joe had released Mattie's hand instantly when she had cried out, he could not move. He was frozen to the spot as he witnessed Janie's terror.
"Joe, go find her mother. Find a counselor."
Joe simply stood there, agonized, and Mattie grabbed his arm and shook him. "Go now, Joe."
Joe bolted from the room, and Mattie turned to Janie with a soothing word.
But she knew that no words would ever erase the horror in Janie's mind.
The drive home passed in total silence. Janie's mother had eventually calmed the little girl down and assured Joe that he wasn't to blame himself for her reaction. Despite those reassurances, the stricken expression had not left Joe's face, and it remained there now. Mattie didn't know what to do to take that look out of
his eyes, so she remained silent and helpless.
It wasn't until they pulled up in front of Mattie's cottage that Joe spoke. His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and he stared straight ahead with blank eyes.
"The fear in her eyes," he said softly. "Did you see it, Mattie?"
"Yes."
"I put that fear there."
"No," Mattie said, denying the bitter self-accusation. "No, Joe. Her father put the fear there. You just—got in the way."
Joe made a bitter sound at the back of his throat and turned to face her. "Got in the way. Yeah... I wanted to help her," he burst out with sudden emotion. "I just wanted to help her, to show her that not all men would... and instead I confirmed all those fears."
"Joe, you're being too hard on yourself." Mattie tried to console him.
"Am I?" Joe questioned disbelievingly. "I scared Janie to death. I hurt you—I didn't mean to hurt you, Mattie."
Mattie put one small hand over his on the steering wheel in silent acknowledgement. She knew it would do no good to protest that he hadn't hurt her. She could see the self-condemnation in his eyes.
"You seemed to be getting along so well with her before I broke in." Joe's eyes lit with enthusiasm. "You really seemed to be reaching her. Maybe you could come back with me next week and..."
"No." Mattie's arms crossed her body in instinctive protection.
"No?" Joe echoed disbelievingly. "But, Mattie, you could help her, I know you could."
"No, please Joe. Don't force this. I can't help Janie. I really can't." She reached for the handle to release the door, but Joe caught her before she could escape.
"Mattie, what are you afraid of? What are you running from now?"
Mattie shook off his hand. "Joe, I admire what you're doing at Jameson House. I really do. And I would like to go back with you sometime. But I can't help Janie. Don't ask that of me."
She had that look in her eyes again, Joe thought bleakly. The one that said she was being chased by a not-so-distant ghost. Joe studied her white face uncomprehendingly. He had pushed against her stony walls and come away battered and confused—again. Would he ever be able to scale their heights?
Mattie winced as yet another linebacker piled onto the stack on top of Joe. Holding her breath, she waited for him to roll out from beneath the human tonnage as he had done all during this practice session. He had tried to explain to her why such sessions were important—something to do with learning to hang on to the ball when he was sacked, which to Mattie sounded like something that was done to groceries, not people. Despite the explanation, Mattie still could not help feeling that if Joe were going to be buried under several tons of hulking linebackers, it would be infinitely preferable if he only had to go through it once a week—on game day—rather than at practice, too. Joe had agreed wholeheartedly and invited her to discuss her theories with the coach. Mattie declined and settled in to watch him get pounded to the ground by his teammates and friends.
"Okay, guys, hit the showers!" Mattie looked up as she heard the coach clear the players from the field. Joe began to jog to the stand where Mattie waited but was pulled up by the coach's bellow. "Joe! You really didn't get time to practice the long ball. Take thirty minutes now."
Joe's eyes met Mattie's wryly, and she smiled back.
"Sure, coach," Joe called obligingly.
Coach Rusky nodded once and followed the rest of the team off the field.
Joe waited until he was out of sight and crossed to Mat-tie dejectedly. "Let's go," he suggested hopefully.
Mattie shook her head. "You'll get fined. Again."
"But I'm hungry," Joe muttered, looking like a sulky little boy.
"You've already contributed a couple of thousand to the team coffers," Mattie pointed out. "There was that time you skipped practice to go on that assignment with me...."
"I didn't want you to get lonely," Joe protested mildly.
"And the time you threw the game ball into the stands-"
"The little boy was in a wheelchair, Mattie. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he caught that ball."
"I did, Joe," Mattie told him tenderly. "I watched that game on TV, remember?"
"Okay, okay," Joe gave in with good humor. "Another thirty minutes. Think you can hold out?"
"Sure." Mattie waved her camera at him. "I never get bored with old Sam here for company."
"Sam?" Joe repeated blankly, peering at the camera suspiciously. "I thought that one was Daisy?"
Mattie sighed in mock exasperation. "Daisy is the Nikon."
"Oh." Joe looked properly subdued, then sneaked a glance at her watch and brightened. "Only twenty-seven minutes now."
Mattie laughed. "GO throw your long balls."
"Come run them down for me," he wheedled hopefully.
Mattie looked around the field. Not a soul in sight. "Okay." She set down the camera she had been using— taking pictures was as much a part of her as breathing and Joe had become her favorite subject—and started for the stairs that led to the field on the other side of the stands.
"Here, I'll help you over the fence," Joe offered, holding his arms out invitingly.
Mattie hesitated for one second before moving into reach. Joe gripped either side of her waist gently and swung her effortlessly over the iron bars and down to the field. Mattie's hands rested on the muscles of his shoulders, feeling them flex and ripple with pantherlike grace as he set her on her feet.
"There. That didn't hurt a bit, did it?" The strained quality of Joe's voice brought Mattie abruptly back to reality. She stared disbelievingly at her fingers as they brushed over his shoulders in an unconsciously caressing motion, then snatched them away as if they had been burned. Inside she felt like she was burning, too, and she stepped from his hold, frightened by the sensation.
"No," she agreed blankly, wondering what was happening to her. "That didn't hurt a bit." Except for that fire inside.
There was an awkward, almost waiting silence between them before Mattie turned away, searching blindly for the football.
"Come on," she forced herself to speak. "The sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish."
"Yeah," Joe agreed, his eyes on her back as she walked away. "I'm pretty hungry.''
Mattie laughed over her shoulder at him. "You're always hung—"
The look in his eyes stopped her. He was staring at her with a lost and hurt expression, with the look of a man who didn't know whether to fight or flee.
As her eyes met his, however, he blinked, clearing the emotion as effectively as an eraser on a chalkboard. It made Mattie horribly uneasy to witness that phenomenon, because she knew the method well. It was one she had perfected herself at a very early age.
"Joe, are you all right?"
"Sure." Joe looked away.
"You looked..."
"Hunger does strange things to me," he interrupted quietly.
They were both silent as they absorbed the implications of that remark.
"How about if we go to my place when we finish here?" Joe asked, breaking the silence with a desperate attempt to put things back on an even keel. "I'll grill hamburgers."
"And hot dogs, too?" Mattie played along, grateful for the escape he offered.
"Hot dogs, too," Joe conceded indulgently. "Come on."
They moved to the center of the field and spent the next thirty minutes with Joe throwing the football and Mattie collecting it. To help sharpen Joe's precision and lessen the amount of area Mattie had to travel in chasing after the football, they devised a system whereby Mattie moved from marker to marker, indicating the spot Joe was to aim. It was no challenge for Joe, of course, with no defensive line to rush him, but he enjoyed being with Mattie. They always enjoyed their time together, no matter how simply spent.
Finally Joe called a halt to the practice.
"My stomach says it's been thirty minutes," he complained.
"Your stomach tells time?" Mattie inquired in assumed awe. "Did you swa
llow a watch or something? How do you wind it?"
Joe regarded her pityingly. "You must be hungry, too. Your wit is sinking quickly." He grabbed her hand and led her toward the sidelines.
"Wait!" Mattie dug in her heels, and Joe stopped obligingly. "I can't go in the locker room!"
Joe regarded her blankly. "Why not?"
'' Why not? " Mattie blustered.
"Yes," Joe repeated slowly, as if he thought she had not understood the question. "Why not?"
"Well... there are men in there," Mattie stated flatly.
"I'm sure they've all cleared out by now," Joe pointed out reasonably.
Mattie shook her head. "I'll just wait here."
"Okay," Joe said, shrugging nonchalantly. "But around this time they usually turn on the—''
Suddenly great streams of cold water shot toward them. Mattie studied the cloudless blue sky blankly before realizing that the water was pouring up on them instead of down.
"—sprinkler system." Joe finished wryly.
"Eeek!" Mattie shrieked as the cold water began to seep into her jeans. She took a quick step back to get out of range and slipped on the wet grass, ending up at Joe's feet.
Joe couldn't help it. He fell into gales of laughter as he witnessed the stunned look on her face.
Mattie shot him a killing glare, then very deliberately hooked her foot behind his ankle and pushed with all her might on his knee, giving him a mighty shove that brought him to the ground beside her. He sat down rather hard between two thundering sprinkler heads and was promptly drenched.
Now it was Mattie's turn to laugh, and she didn't hold back. Joe watched her, pretending exasperation, but the warm affection buried in his eyes ruined the pose.
Grabbing her wet hands, he hauled her to her feet, studying her between water-spiked lashes. "You are definitely going with me. You need a towel to dry off." His hand still clasping hers, he led her down the tunnel to the locker room.
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