The next day, Saturday morning papers expressed satisfaction that justice had been served. However, justice was nowhere present in that courtroom for Helena Cartwright. You see, the four White boys who pleaded and streamed tears of innocence in the courtroom were on trial for the murder of her young son, Henry Cartwright. The ten-year-old was last seen on the morning of October 10, 1953, playing in the front yard of his grandmother’s house.
Turning her back for a brief second, Helena had stepped inside to retrieve a sweater for her son, but by the time she’d come back to the front, Henry had already gone missing.
Henry’s body would turn up four days later.
The only witness, a shut-in named Frances Tyler, claimed that he’d seen Henry playing when four boys came up to him and asked him if he’d like to join them. Only ten at the time, Henry had been intrigued by the older boys’ invitation and had followed them down the street in the direction of the wooded area where his body was later found. Frances identified the four boys as Charles “Charlie” Mason, John Cronar, James Faveratti, and William “Willie” Riley.
Gary looked up from his newspaper as the reporter recited the last name.
William “Willie” Riley is none other than the father of Dallas Quarterback Austin Riley. The same William Riley that Austin led us to believe had died. However, the man is still alive and well, and living somewhere deep in the recesses of the same Alabama neighborhood that rallied around his indiscretions sixty years ago.
Gary picked up his phone. “Selina?”
“I’m watching it,” Selina Mercado answered. “Where’s Austin? Is he seeing this?”
“No,” Gary answered. “He’s in North Carolina. At a funeral.”
Why is this news, you ask? Well, just a few days ago, Austin Riley revealed to the world that he was the father of a precious, chubby-cheeked baby girl. Searches surged the next day for the mother in question, mostly because of the fact that the girl shared only two traits with her father: his unusual eye-color and his dark hair. However, as the QB’s long, bandaged finger stroked his daughter’s cheek, there was a marked difference. Olivia Camden Riley’s skin was the color of a creamy latte and obviously, quite a bit darker than her father’s.
This could only mean one thing: little Olivia’s mother is a Black woman. So why, we ask, wasn’t this woman there? Why didn’t Austin present his child AND his daughter’s mother to the world after his triumphant win? Also, why is it that just minutes before he was purported to talk about Olivia’s mother live with Wendy Carter at the Championship parade, he left the set?
That’s what the world has been wondering, Austin, mostly because of your high profile and visible relationship with Brazilian supermodel Jessica Costa, and your brief affair with French violinist Victoria Ellington. Those relationships were unconcealed. Those relationships were public. Why keep this one in the shadows?
The reporter smirked.
Oh, right. William Riley. Your father. The same father that you tried to keep hidden because you didn’t want the world to know what you’re a product of. You didn’t want the world to find out about your roots. But a source close to us has already done the groundwork for you, Austin.
A smiling picture of Sommer appeared on the screen.
Olivia’s mother’s name is Sommer Hayes. Sommer is also from the same small, distinctively diverse town in North Carolina where Austin grew up. So, as you can see, from her beautiful brown skin to her shining brown eyes, she is a black woman. But that’s not the part that I find the most disturbing. It’s the part where she’s more than that. She’s an extremely stunning woman with looks to rival that of, and triumph over, both Jessica and Victoria’s. So why, then, would Austin keep her hidden?
The second picture that appeared was Luke’s snapshot. It showed a picture of all four boys sitting in a barn: William and John were on the left, Charlie was in the middle, and James was on the right. Charlie was holding up a copy of the newspaper broadcasting their acquittal on the front cover, and on the plain white t-shirt he wore, written haphazardly in black paint, were the words, “I did it.”
While we don’t want to jump to any conclusions, Austin, this reeks of shame. It reeks of Emmett Till and similar injustices that are blemishes on the porcelain face of American history. We can’t wait to hear your side of the story, but in the meantime, we’ll just let this image soak in.
Gary picked up his phone and began to frantically dial Austin’s number. When the call went to voicemail, his eyes flicked towards the clock on the wall. Sommer’s mother’s funeral service had begun about a half hour ago, so Austin wasn’t likely to turn his phone back on for at least the next hour. In the meantime, that gave a horde of media outlets a head start to Yearwood.
“Selina, I need a jet,” he barked into the phone. “Meet me in thirty minutes. We need to get to Yearwood and head this off. In the meantime, prepare a statement for the press.”
Selina rose from her desk. “I’m on it, Gary.”
“And Selina?” Gary shrugged on his blazer. “Austin told me about Sommer the minute he flew her to Dallas to live with him. He truly does love her. Keep that in mind.”
Selina nodded. “Got it. See you in a few.”
Gary ended the call, grabbed his briefcase, and bound out of the door.
*****
Twelve reporters had already congregated outside of the modest white church building before an entire hour had passed. Cameras were still in the process of being set up, and men and women with microphones in hand were being prepped to begin shooting live. Behind the swarm of reporters, vans, and blockades, a crowd formed. Some were passing by and stopped at the sight of the commotion, while others, after seeing the report on the news, had come to either show their support for the couple, or their contempt: for Austin, and how he had kept Sommer a secret as though ashamed of her, and for Sommer and how she’d shamelessly allowed herself to be subjugated by him.
Inside the church, none was the wiser until Caleb Yearwood, the youngest of the town’s family namesake, received a notification on his phone. As he bent to quickly read the message, a man in a brown suit walked by one of the lancet windows of the church, causing half of those in attendance to look up. A woman in a dark blue suit followed him, the news logo on the microphone in her hand clearly visible.
Murmurs soon drowned out Reese’s eulogy at the front of the room as more checked their phones, gasping when they’d read the news story. Dozens of eyes went to where Austin and Sommer sat in the front row, his long arm draped across the back of the bench and around her shoulders. As the weight of the stares began to grow heavy, they both turned.
“What’s going on?” Austin asked, his eyes connecting with numerous gazes around the room.
“You’re not going to like this,” Caleb warned, moving over to the aisle where they sat. He handed his phone to Austin.
“What is it?” Sommer asked, peering at the phone’s screen. Instinctively, Austin moved the phone out of her line of sight, but as more people began to shadow the windows around the building, he realized that she was going to find out anyhow. It was better that she found out from him than from the slew of reporters he already knew were waiting to greet them outside.
“I’m sorry,” he began, handing her the phone.
Sommer only needed to read the first three sentences before she felt as though the floor of the church had dissolved beneath her feet.
As she handed the phone back to Caleb, her hand trembled. Austin reached for her, but for the very first time, she pulled away. Then she mechanically scooped Olivia out of Emma’s arms and walked to the front of the room where Reese stood. Unsatisfied, Austin started after her, but she shot him a look that told him that she didn’t want him any closer.
“Not a good time,” she cautioned.
“Sommer, I didn’t know that any of this was—”
“Not a good time,” she repeated, louder. “I’m standing in the middle of my mother’s funeral, for one, and I was about to unkn
owingly walk into a crowd full of reporters ready to rush me, denigrate me, and…,” she gestured towards Caleb’s phone, “…ask me about how I feel about being compared to Sally Hemings. This is not a good time.”
Austin’s chest felt as though it was being crushed beneath a heavy weight.
“You can’t put all of this on me, Sommer.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t put all of this on me. I wanted everyone to know about us when you were still pregnant with Livvie. You were the one who didn’t want me to say anything.”
She hacked a laugh. “Because of this, Austin. I was afraid that something like this would happen. Kyle was right. You’re the darling of Texas. People weren’t ready for this—”
“Sommer,” he yelled, cutting her off. “I don’t give a damn what those people think. I never have. You matter. Olivia matters.”
She diverted her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he shot back. “You don’t get to dismiss me just because you’re upset. You only get to do that if you can tell me the last time I put the needs of the media before yours. Or, if you can tell me about the times that I wasn’t there for you. You only get to dismiss me if you can tell me about the times I told you that I loved you and didn’t mean it.”
Sommer clenched her jaw. She didn’t have to search her mind for an answer as he’d never done any of those things. However, the thought of him being anywhere near her at that moment made all of her hairs stand on end. It was as if, together, they created some form of catastrophe.
“Didn’t think so,” he said, resolute. “So, why are you pushing me away right now?”
He stepped closer and again, she stepped back. Reese shook his head this time, indicating that he didn’t want him any closer to his niece.
“I need a moment,” Sommer answered.
“And you can’t take a moment with me?”
“A moment alone.”
“Sommer,” he closed his eyes, “It’s not just you and me anymore.”
Sommer glanced down at Olivia. “I know.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Don’t make me say it, Austin.”
The pressure in his chest increased. “Wait, are you actually saying that you don’t want us to be together anymore?”
She looked away.
“Answer me, Sommer, because I know you’re not saying that you’re prepared to throw away everything that we’ve worked for and worked towards because of some false accusation.”
“Sweetheart,” Emma began, reaching for her son’s elbow, but he shrugged away. When Sommer didn’t answer his question, his shoulders fell.
“Sixty-seconds?” he asked. “A few nights ago, you told me about the things that your mother gave you. A chance at a family. The chance to let yourself fall in love with me. And now, all it took was sixty seconds for none of that to mean anything anymore?”
His shimmering eyes darkened to an even matte.
“Why did you bring Olivia out?” Sommer asked. “Why didn’t you talk to me first? Do you understand how big of a mess this is? How big of a mess we seem to cause?”
Austin reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black box, and tossed it to Reese.
“I’ve been carrying that box around ever since the game,” he explained. “The reason I didn’t talk to you first is because you were supposed to be on the field with me. Ma and Amelia were supposed to bring you and Livvie down.”
Reese opened the box and several people in the crowd gasped. Sommer’s angry front crumbled when she saw the crystal clear, princess-cut, diamond solitaire engagement ring.
“Then, there on national TV, in front of millions of viewers, I was going to ask you to be my wife.”
He turned to the room. “They’re going to want to interview as many of you as possible, and while I don’t really care what you say about me or my father, don’t you dare drag Sommer’s name through the mud. I have never been ashamed of my feelings for her. Understand that.”
The double doors in the back of the church opened and Gary walked in with Selina on his heels. The duo shook their heads and tossed out rehearsed lines to reporters who tried to push past them, and then closed the doors on the chaos.
“The version of me that has to live without you doesn’t exist, Sommer,” Austin added, glancing over at Sommer. “I won’t let you run.”
Gary’s eyes landed on Selina. “Before we go out here and take on these reporters, get someone to take Sommer, Olivia, and Emma out through the back and away from all the cameras. Also, have someone secure the burial site. Even though funeral services aren’t seen as sacred to those hounds out there sniffing around for a good story, make sure that Sommer still has the chance to give her mother a proper goodbye.”
Selina nodded and lifted a phone to her ear. Seconds later, two large men entered the church through the back entrance, and two more guarded the doors at the front.
“The usual lines?” Austin asked, walking past Gary to the doors.
“Family privacy, difficult time, yada yada,” Gary rehearsed, following him. Selina brought up the rear and the minute they walked through the double doors, all three were engulfed by reporters.
When the doors closed, Sommer drew her attention back to the room. She noticed phones discreetly being tucked away, having already captured the scene that had occurred just a few minutes prior. Soon, videos would be plastered all over the internet and she hoped that they’d recorded the essence of what Austin had said, and the way he’d bared his feelings in front of a room full of people as though he didn’t care who knew how he felt.
The true Austin.
She also hoped they’d missed the way she’d shied away from him whenever he tried to come closer as though he’d been the one to blame for all that was happening.
He’d been right.
If she hadn’t been so afraid of everything, then none of this would have happened. Even if people had made remarks about who he’d chosen to love and start a family with, if they had only come out in the beginning, the press would have never been able to spin the story to the extreme where Austin came out looking like a bigot.
“Who wants to leave can leave,” she announced. “Who wants to stay, we’re proceeding to the burial site. You can either choose to pay your respects or talk to reporters. It’s up to you. My choice is to say goodbye to my mother and lay her to rest… in peace.”
She and Emma trailed the two men through the back of the church, and Caleb stood in for Austin as pallbearer. Everyone in the congregation followed.
“Sommer,” Reese called, tossing over the ring box. She caught it and held it firmly in her grasp.
“Don’t be stupid,” he encouraged.
Nodding, she slipped the box into her purse before disappearing through the back doors.
Chapter Twelve
William let the brown vinyl blinds fall one by one from his finger as he turned away from the window. Three weeks. It had taken them three whole weeks to find him out there in rural Alabama when he’d practically gift-wrapped everything for that reporter Luke Maisley. Granted, he probably hadn’t been the easiest person to locate, but he’d seen the news media track down criminals who’d been on the run for decades. Hell, he wasn’t Jimmy Hoffa’s remains.
He stood in the mirror and straightened his tie. The salesgirl at the mall had been right when she’d suggested that he wear the red tie against his white shirt and navy blazer. With the khakis that he’d added to the ensemble, he didn’t look like a man who’d spent the last decade of his life in a tortured relationship with Jack Daniels and Jim Beam.
Smoothing back his hair one final time, he opened the door and was greeted by the hot, white flash of a camera lens. Additional news vans raced down the street and soon, the entire avenue had been blocked off. Inwardly, he was smiling, but outwardly, William expertly fabricated an expression of pure shock. He wildly glanced around at all the cameras and shielded his face as reporters ran forward.
“Wi
lliam Riley?” They all seemed to say in unison.
“Yes, I am William Riley,” he answered. “What is all of this?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news, William?” A woman in a black blazer and purple top asked.
“Do you know Sommer Hayes?” A slightly older gentleman asked.
William’s eyes settled on the woman. He knew how these things worked. For the last two weeks, he’d seen how the world could go from loving someone, namely Austin, to turning him into a martyr. And although he loved his son, this was the very thing that he’d warned the boy against. History was like a bell curve. Just because people were now accepting mixed relationships and gays could marry in some places, it didn’t mean that things would not eventually return to status quo. Gays once ran rampant beforehand in the land of Sodom and Gomorrah, but look at what had happened there.
His eyes trailed over the woman’s brown skin and long lashes.
“I’ll talk to you,” he said, turning to the gentleman. “What do you want to know?”
The man smiled triumphantly. “Good to hear. Richard Morrison from Sports Tonight. First, have you been watching the news?”
“I have,” William replied, twiddling his thumbs. “Can’t say I too much like what you all have been saying about my boy.”
“But that same boy of yours had us all convinced that you were dead. Do you have any comments about his relationship with the woman now identified as Sommer Hayes?”
“Like what?”
“Like, did you know about it?”
“I haven’t talked to Austin since he was about thirteen years old.”
Richard seemed surprised. “Is it because he found out about the conviction?”
The Game of Love: (BWWM Romance) Page 18