Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  “Exactly. Your job is to coach, and we’ve made a lot of sacrifices so that Dex could play on this team.”

  “Well then he needs to play by my rules. No checking. If it happens again, he’s off the team.”

  * * *

  “Mom, quit waking me up. I’m fine,” Dani grumbled rolling over to her side and pulling her covers up over her head.

  Abigail gently touched the homemade quilt, made from her own baby blankets, and then quietly slipped out of the room, wishing her daughter had agreed to sleep in her bed with her that evening. Checking on her every couple of hours would be easier, and the tormenting, fearful what-if thoughts plaguing her might be a little less intense. She closed the door as quietly as possible.

  “How is she?”

  The sound of her father’s voice behind her made her jump. She hadn’t noticed her parents’ bedroom door open across the hall. “She’s okay.” She pulled her cardigan tighter around her.

  “Kids are tough. It’s harder on us, believe me.”

  Abigail nodded. “I just keep thinking the worst.”

  “Come on. Tea will help,” her father said, heading downstairs.

  Abigail stifled a yawn. She was exhausted, but knowing she wouldn’t catch a wink anyway, she followed him.

  Seated at the table with a steaming cup of chamomile tea on the table in front of her moments later, she said, “You and Mom were lucky. I was never interested in sports. I didn’t risk getting hurt like this.” The most physical extracurricular activity she’d participated in was the cheer team, and the worst injury she could get was a sprained ankle. Twelve years ago, the teams weren’t as into throwing one another into the air or building sky-high, dangerous-looking pyramids as they were now. Pompoms and dance routines had been the extent of it.

  Her father laughed and shot her a look. “I wish physical injuries were the worst we had to endure with you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just wait. Once Dani starts getting her heart broken, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Abigail gave a sad smile. “I was good at that.” It seemed she still was. “Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so,’” she said quietly, taking a sip of the tea. Her parents had expressed on more than one occasion the fact they didn’t think Dean was the right one for her. Of course her head-over-heels teenage heart hadn’t listened. She’d thought they were just worried about her settling down so young and committing to a hockey life, where she would potentially be alone in big cities a lot of the time. Her parents had been right, and admitting that was tough.

  Her father reached across the table and touched her hand. “You can’t help who you love, sweetheart, and besides, without Dean, there’d be no Dani.”

  She nodded. How many times over the last few months had that same thought been a source of strength for her. She could never regret her choices. She wouldn’t change a thing about her life so far…except of course this part could be a little better.

  An image of Jackson’s enraged yet cool expression on the ice that evening flashed in her overactive mind. He’d gone immediately to Dani’s side, and he’d somehow made her daughter feel like a superhero for taking the hit. Reassuring her that she’d acted like a pro out on the ice had made Dani beam, and the way his worried expression had checked for any injuries had almost had Abigail needing medical attention. Any man that dedicated to her daughter’s well-being and feelings was more than a little fantastic.

  How had she never noticed this side of Jackson before?

  Feeling her father’s intent, perceptive gaze, she stood.

  “Going to try to get some sleep?”

  “No, I’m going to check on her again,” she said carrying her cup with her.

  He nodded and hesitated before saying, “Your mom told me you found a place to rent and possibly buy?”

  She stopped in the doorway. “Yeah, Jackson Westmore’s house over on Oak Avenue.” Trying to say his name without giving away the fact that she’d just been thinking about him was a challenge.

  “The three-bedroom bungalow on the lake?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I was at the hardware store last month and heard him tell Reagan Chase, the paint expert, about the place. Said he got it for a steal because the previous owners had to vacate quickly.”

  Well, that explained the low rent he was planning to charge her. It was also good information to know if and when she decided to make an offer on the place.

  Her father was frowning. “Odd that he decided to rent it to you.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. I guess we’ve decided to leave the past where it belongs and move on,” she said with a shrug. In truth, she’d never fully understood his animosity toward her in the first place, except to assume it was her monopolization of Dean’s time. But she was starting to wonder whether it had been Dean’s time he’d actually wanted.

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised he decided to turn it into a rental property. I didn’t even think he’d planned on selling this one. I thought he’d bought that house for himself. It certainly sounded that way. He was picking out some high-end finishing products for the renos…Not usually the case for a house you plan to flip quickly and hope to turn a profit on.”

  She frowned. “He didn’t say anything.” Though he had said he wasn’t sure he wanted to sell it…and he’d skirted around her interest in owning it.

  “Well, maybe I got it wrong. First time for everything, right?” he asked with a wink, getting up and placing his mug into the dishwasher.

  “Yeah, maybe,” she said distractedly as he kissed the top of her head, said goodnight, and left her to ponder what he’d said.

  As she slowly climbed the stairs to the guest room where Dani was sleeping, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father was right. Had Jackson bought the house with the intention of turning it into his own home?

  If so, why was he willing to let her and Dani live there first?

  Chapter 9

  So, tell me again why we’re doing this tonight instead of watching Monday Night Football,” Darryl asked, struggling under the weight of the marble countertop they carried from the truck into the house.

  Jackson set his end in place. “Careful…easy. This thing cost a small fortune,” he said, watching nervously as his buddy set his end in place. “And I told you—I need the house ready sooner than I thought.”

  Darryl studied him. “Did you decide to sell it?”

  “No. Just decided to rent it out for a while.” He shrugged, opening the new stainless steel fridge and removing two Coors Lights—the only thing in there—and tossing one to Darryl.

  Darryl popped the top on the can and took a gulp before saying, “You wouldn’t be renting the place to Abby Jansen, by any chance?”

  The tone of his friend’s voice annoyed him—as if he thought he knew something he possibly couldn’t. “Yes, actually. So?” he asked despite his better judgment, leaning his hands against the new countertop.

  “So…nothing. I just think you’re doing an awful lot for a woman you claim to dislike. A woman who is in the middle of a nasty divorce from your best friend.” He took another swig of the beer.

  Jackson shrugged. “She needed a rental for a few months, and I wasn’t quite ready to move yet.” The last part was a lie. The lease on his place had been up two months ago, and he was going month to month, planning to move into the house once the renovations were complete, but his friend didn’t need to know that. “Besides, it was Becky’s idea. She cornered me in front of Abby at the bar the other night. How was I supposed to say no?”

  Darryl laughed. “I’m just confused about this soft spot you’ve developed for her suddenly.”

  Hardly suddenly. Try a soft spot that had only grown softer and more longingly desperate over the last twenty years. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Grab that other side. I don’t think it’s quite even,” he said, pretending to study the piece of marble. He’d admired the black and gray swirl pattern fo
r months before biting the expensive bullet and ordering the slab.

  “It’s perfect.” Darryl tossed his empty can in the blue recycle bin near the door, opened the fridge, and retrieved another one. “And it’s not just the house.”

  He folded his arms. “What are you talking about?”

  “Dex’s suspension—two games?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “He checked Dani into the boards. Checking is illegal in this league. You know that.” He swallowed hard. It was true. Yet, he knew his buddy had a right to be giving him this look. Since the day before, he’d replayed the event over and over in his mind, including how he’d handled the situation. He may have been a little harsh with the kid’s suspension, but the sight of Dani hitting the boards and Abigail’s look of pure terror as she watched…

  “Yes, but two games? Dani was fine.”

  He sighed. “I reacted in the moment. Maybe it was a little harsh, and I’m sure that smug asshole of a father didn’t help matters. But you know safety is my main priority for these kids.”

  Darryl nodded. “Okay, but let me ask you something. You don’t have to answer—just think about it—would your reaction and suspension have been the same had it been James who’d hit the boards?”

  He wanted to think so, but his gut told him otherwise. The day before he hadn’t been thinking with his head. Making decisions based on his tortured, useless heart wasn’t the right way to deal with things. He sighed. “I’ll talk to Dex.”

  * * *

  Abigail collected the stack of papers she was grading and slid her feet back into her shoes the following afternoon after her first day of substitute teaching in a week. Admittedly, she wasn’t being called in as often as she’d hoped. Luckily, she was staying plenty busy with the fundraising committee planning, whose meeting was scheduled to start in ten minutes in the staff room. Dani had gotten a ride home with Taylor that day, and Becky had invited her to stay for dinner. She’d pick her up after the meeting.

  As she left the classroom, she nearly collided with one of her colleagues. “Oh, sorry, Beth,” she said, readjusting her folders in her arms.

  “No worries. My fault for hiding around corners,” the music teacher said, as she stuck a poster to the bulletin board outside the classroom door.

  Abigail glanced at it. FATHER AND DAUGHTER FALL FORMAL. Crap. The school still had that? She bit her lip. Would Dani want to go? Dances and dresses weren’t exactly her daughter’s thing, and the chances of Dean being available to take her were slim.

  Hopefully she wouldn’t bring it up, and Abigail wasn’t about to.

  A few minutes later, she entered the staff room, where the other teachers were already waiting and the sports coaches chatted near the window, drinking coffee. Her gaze met Jackson’s and she felt her cheeks redden. Since her conversation with her father the night before, she couldn’t erase the nagging thought that maybe Jackson wasn’t as anti-Abigail as he’d always appeared, and that idea was too confusing to even start to entertain.

  She had enough to deal with, so she forced her own conflicting emotions aside.

  Breaking the eye contact, she smiled at the other teachers, all of whom she’d met at the staff meeting she’d attended earlier that week. “Hi, everyone,” she said, relieved to also see Kelli enter the room. The woman had offered to help her head her first fundraising meeting for a smoother transition. The previous meeting Abigail had mostly sat back and listened.

  A series of greetings and small talk followed, until finally Kelli said, “As you all know, Abigail will be taking over heading the fundraising efforts this year in my absence…”

  A series of nods and warm, friendly, if uncertain smiles met her around the table.

  Their apprehension over her leadership didn’t bother her. Truth was, she was probably the most doubtful of her abilities as any of them, but she refused to show it.

  Fake it. Make it. Wasn’t that how the saying went? She could handle this responsibility and hopefully before long, they would all see that.

  “I’ll turn the meeting over to her now. They are all yours, Abigail,” she said, and there was a note of reluctance in her voice.

  “Thank you.” She avoided Jackson as she summoned the courage to continue. “I’ve reviewed last year’s fundraising ideas and efforts and after looking at the numbers, I think what we’re doing as a team is working well.” She paused. “But, I think there are other opportunities we could explore and places where we can expand the efforts as well.”

  A few looks were sent across the table, and she refused to let them destroy her confidence. She cleared her throat as she flipped through the fundraising file. “For example, the bottle drive…”

  Mark Hanly sat straighter, pulling his sport coat together to hide the coffee stain that was perpetually on his dress shirt. The man must have a leaky chin, she mused. “That’s usually my thing,” the fourth grade teacher, soccer coach, and father of three said.

  Abigail smiled. “And it looks like it’s one of the more lucrative drives, so congratulations on your effort there,” she said.

  The man nodded and his shoulders relaxed. “We try.”

  “My only suggestion would be trying to get some of the local businesses on board with the efforts.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “Well in L.A.…”

  Several more looks and facial twitches threatened her confidence slightly, but Jackson’s encouraging nod somehow made her feel better. The intensity in his eyes was another story, so she turned slightly to address the opposite side of the room.

  “At Dani’s former school, they invested in plastic recycling containers with the school’s logo on the front. Local businesses agreed to place them in their establishments and donate the bottles and cans to the school’s programs, divided equally between all of the sports, music, and theatre groups.”

  “Wouldn’t the bins be expensive, though?” Ally Carter, the young kindergarten teacher, asked.

  “There would be an initial investment for them…” Abigail flipped through her papers. “I got a quote from Southern Colorado Disposal. Fifty would cost the school one hundred eighty-nine dollars at their discounted price, and to keep costs down, we could attach our own house-made labels onto them.”

  “But the bottle drive only brought in a little over four hundred dollars last year. Isn’t it a little counterproductive?” Mark asked.

  She was prepared for this meeting. Taking out her photocopied stats of the money raised by Montessori Academy in Los Angeles, she passed them around the table. “As you can see, the K to six school raised a total of three thousand, four hundred fifty-six dollars in nine months by soliciting the help of the community.” She smiled at the wide-eyed, positive expressions among the group as they reviewed the numbers.

  “And you think we could get enough businesses on board?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely.” Glenwood Falls may be a small community, but its residents band together. “A lot of the business owners have kids or relatives in these programs, and I’m sure they will all be happy to help.”

  A collection of nods went around the table, and when her gaze settled on Jackson again, her breath caught in her throat at the look—was that admiration?—on his face. Somehow his approval felt like a small victory, and she refused to read too much into it. She’d yet to shake the strange, unfamiliar feelings she’d experienced the night he’d mentioned kissing her or the intense gratitude she had for his attention to Dani the day before at practice.

  “I think it sounds like a great idea,” Sam Fisher, a first grade teacher and choir director, said, breaking into her thoughts. “With funds like this, we could start traveling to some of the nearby music competitions.”

  Ally nodded. “And the theatre group could afford to bring in guest acting coaches…” Her excitement was evident.

  “Let’s not start spending money before we actually have it,” Kelli interjected.

  Abigail heard a note of insecurity in the woman’s voice, so she
was quick to agree. “Kelli is right. We have a lot of work to do first,” she said with a laugh.

  “Okay, well, how do we get started?” Mark asked, opening his notebook.

  As she launched into her preplanned strategy of attack for the efforts, Abigail felt lighter, more confident, excited…happier than she had in a long time. She was making a difference, adding value, and it did wonders for her self-esteem.

  An hour later, her excitement wasn’t the only one felt in the room as everyone discussed several new fundraising ideas that in the past they thought might be too time-consuming or too costly. She was relieved that in each scenario, she was able to encourage the idea and provide valid advice on how to make the suggestion work, based on her previous involvement and experience.

  Checking her watch, she couldn’t believe that over an hour and a half had passed already. “I think this meeting went well. Let’s call it an evening and meet again next week to discuss the progress we’ve made. Sound good?” she asked.

  Everyone agreed.

  “Great.” She closed her folder and reached for her purse on the floor.

  “Uh, there’s one quick thing, if I could?” Jackson said and she stopped to glance at him.

  “Of course. What’s up?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded light and didn’t give away the nerves she’d felt just being in the same room with him.

  “This weekend is the team’s first away game. It’s in Allenville, about two hours away. It’s an evening game, so the team will be staying overnight,” he said.

  “Do you require funding?” They would obviously need to arrange transportation and overnight accommodation for the players.

  Jackson shook his head. “No. The school bus has already been reserved, and the motel rooms paid for from last year’s funds.” He hesitated.

  “So what do you need?”

  “Chaperones.” His gaze locked on hers. “Specifically a female chaperone.”

  Right. Crap. Now that there were two little girls on the team, it wasn’t good enough to have just Jackson and Darryl, the assistant coach, go on the trip. She scanned the room.