by Cd Brennan
“The women’s shelter believes the women could use an outlet to help their recovery.”
“Yeah?”
“The women will use rugby to get fit, physically and mentally. Maybe even learn some defense moves.” He smiled at his own joke.
Her heart broke again. It had worked out as she’d hoped, and it was perfect for not only Rory, but the team. “That sounds great.” The last word caught in her tightening throat.
“Come back, Grace.”
She shook her head so he forged on, “The grant is only for a year, but renewable. But it’s a start. And the grant also arranges for the local Girl Scouts to babysit the kids during practices and games. I guess there are quite a few troops in the TC area, and they’ll take turns.”
That was an addition she hadn’t arranged with Brittany and Jordyn for the grant but so happy they thought of it. Oh, Lord! He had to go before she lost it altogether. Although she was happy things were working out for Rory, it also made her feel worse. She whispered, “Please leave before I won’t be able to do this.”
“But what about Bluegill?” He got a mighty A for effort.
Grace had one hand on the doorknob. “You don’t want her?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I want you to have her.”
“She’s there and I’m here.”
“But you could be there.”
“No.” She couldn’t do this argument with him anymore.
“Grace, you are amazing.”
Grace opened the door to the Texas heat. Rory’s outfit must be hot as hell, the poor bugger. On one hand, she was elated he had come all the way for her, but on the other hand, she was just so confused by everything, she didn’t want him here.
“Seriously, Grace. You embrace everything you come across. You drove all the way to Michigan from Texas. On your own. I can’t even imagine doing that. Then you got a place to live and a job.”
“And lost it.”
He ignored her and continued. “You did more in a few months there than I did in almost a year. You jumped right into the Blues, gave it a hundred percent. You dream big and you live big.”
She had tried to at least. But now she was going back to comfort zone. Where it was safe and she’d live a long life going to Sunday family picnics with a half dozen kids.
“I love who you are and admire you on so many levels.”
She brushed her foot along the ugly beige carpet. “I can’t.”
“Just because you failed once, doesn’t mean you won’t be successful the next time. Take it from me, I know. I try and try and try. That’s what you need to do, too. Keep going. Don’t give up.”
Tears pricked Grace’s eyes. Rory was a tryer, he really was, and the boys teased him mercilessly on his over-the-top efforts, but Grace admired that in him. His commitment, his effort every day. But he didn’t suffer from a debilitating illness like Grace, so he didn’t have to worry about that getting in the way. Which was kinda funny since, until now, Grace had never thought of her diabetes as a hurdle. She’d had it since early childhood and knew no different in life. Now she did.
“I can’t, Ror, I promised my momma.” The look on his face only antagonized her. It was one of disbelief, whether that was for the promise she had made or for her reticence to return to Michigan, she didn’t care.
“Grace, I—”
Her heart was breaking again. “I can’t!” She yelled and threw the thistle at him. He wasn’t listening to her! Stepping aside, she made it clear she wanted him to leave. There was a pregnant silence as she waited, but she wouldn’t look at him. He collected his backpack and swooshed past her, his presence filling her heart and then passing just as quickly.
Grace closed the door with a quiet click and then banged her head against the wall. Damnation.
Chapter 23
No. No, no, no, that wasn’t it.
Rory blew his new whistle to stop the play. What a mess that was. Bodies slowly unwound from the crumpled scrum.
When he’d started coaching, he thought the scrum would be the hardest element of rugby to teach the girls since it required not only loads of brute strength, but it was a very personal part of the game. A scrum was about heaving, pushing, grunting, groaning, pitting your strength against the others. And Rory had originally thought it was going to be too much contact, too much brutality for the girls.
He’d been so wrong. They thrived in the scrum. Like women secretly had the desire to pummel each other but just hadn’t been acting on it for centuries. Probably why women’s rugby was the fastest growing sport in America.
Now it was his task to try to cool them down a bit so their timing was on target, so their balance was just as important as their strength.
Again, in their eagerness, they had pushed too hard too soon and lost their balance, collapsing the scrum. As of today, the women’s team had 15 players, a full union squad. Being an only child and having surrounded himself with men his whole life, he knew little of the women’s psyche, and found it beyond interesting to interact with these women three or four times a week. And surprisingly, he realized he preferred their company.
Often Rory would practice along with them if they were short, which gave the Men’s Blues an endless supply of teasing artillery against Rory. But ironically enough, more and more of them had started to show up at the Lady Blues’ training to help. And he was glad for it. He’d take whatever he could get.
And he’d gotten a nickname from the boys. They’d started calling him Coachette. Not a nickname that he loved, but at least he had one now.
It was a handful to keep the ladies focused. They all seemed to have an opinion on how things should be done. Even though the lads would grumble on the men’s team, especially Irish, for the most part what Coach said was law. The women’s team was more of a democracy, and more than not, they voted on new plays and position changes. They offered solutions to problems and helped each other with everything from condition training to lifts to practices. They even cooked for each other.
Rory was okay with that. For more reasons than the rugby. After a lifetime dictatorship in his own home, he found the women worked better if they felt they were heard, if each felt they were valued by the team. And with that, there was nothing the ladies wouldn’t do.
They had rallied and promoted the new team. And now, 15 strong and growing, they had already set up more matches this season than the men’s team.
The only thing missing in Rory’s success—because it was his as much as theirs—was Grace. The house was lonely once again. He’d been content with his quiet existence before, leading a life he thought fulfilling—rugby, training, social events with the lads.
But after she’d gone, it was clear that life was lacking significantly. The coaching helped keep him distracted. There was plenty to keep him busy between his commitments to the Lady Blues and the men’s team, but in the downtime, when there was nothing to do, even telly or music couldn’t sweep away the melancholy that had settled in his bones.
It didn’t help Bluegill still sat in the driveway. It was a daily reminder of what he’d lost. He couldn’t get himself to drive Bluey in hopes that Grace would still come back. Every day he thought about calling her. But she’d made it clear she didn’t want to come back as much as he wanted her to. He’d considered driving Bluegill back to Texas for her and then flying back, just so he could see her again, but he didn’t want to appear ungrateful of her gift. Or like a stalker. Del had told him to give her time. Maybe she’d decide to come back and maybe she wouldn’t. That was life. As easy as it was for Del to say that, the thought was a brick on his chest every day.
He scratched at his cheek and chin. The new beard itched, but he’d always wanted to grow one.
“Rory!”
Huh? Oh, the girls were ready again, all standing and waiting on him. They’d caught him daydreaming yet again. Junette gave him a sad smile as if she knew who he’d been thinking about. He smiled to let them know it
was all good. Or it would be. He hoped.
“Okay, set it up again. This time, Hillary you switch with Courtney. Let’s try you as a flanker. You push hard, but you have to keep bound at the same time. The whole point is to move as one unit. The scrum isn’t an individual effort.” Rory interlocked his clawed fingers to show what he meant. “You need to push together yes, but be aware of how the person next to you is moving. Adjust just slightly if you have to. Don’t feel like you need to do all the work on your own. The point is in the timing and pressure from the scrum as a whole.
“Like all those ants in that one movie. ‘Be the Ball,’” Junette suggested.
The girls nodded half-heartedly, but they were quick-smart. They got it.
Rory scooped up the ball and handed it to Junette to feed it in. The mom of one had turned out to be a mighty scrum half. Lots of spit and vinegar but with a good brain on her. She could see the game and direct the play as needed. Today, her son, Charlie, was playing with a bunch of other kids with the Girl Scouts. And the new players, the women from the shelter, were working out great. As if they needed something in their life to throw their hearts into.
They all looked after each other. And with each practice, and the support of the other Lady Blues, the women’s confidence grew. He’d never been a part of something so rehabilitating, and not only to them. To himself, too.
He called it. “Ready…bind…set!”
The girls grunted with their effort, and Junette fed in the ball. The other scrum half followed as she was supposed to. Rory stepped back to allow the play to happen naturally. He wasn’t a yeller. He’d say his piece and let the ladies figure it out. They almost always did. He’d taken a leaf from Coach. If he could be half the teacher he was, then Rory was successful.
A soft breeze blew the back of Rory’s neck. It made him itch. Then a shiver wracked his upper body, yet it was the warmest day of the year so far.
As the girls heaved, neither side winning, both sides fairly equal in strength and weight, Rory swept his gaze across the pitch. Nothing. The little boy Charlie caught his eye as he head-butted Gillian in the stomach. Rory laughed. A little cheeky loon he was going to be. When goose bumps ran along the back of his arms, Rory looked behind him.
A figure stood under a tree on the other side of the gate in front of the parking lot. The person was in shadow, and Rory wondered if it was someone come out to see if they liked rugby or not, or perhaps they were too shy to come in.
Shouting had him turned around to a loose ball. Junette’s side had won the scrum finally and was passing it down the line. It got as far as Claire before the other team smashed her. Ouch. That looked like a hard hit. The “ladies” didn’t hold back, that was for sure and for certain.
Junette dug the ball out of the ruck with her foot and glanced to her left and then right. Choosing the blind side, she passed to Jordyn, who was playing center. Every day they were getting better, looking more like a team.
Rory was proud of them. Who needed a Blues jacket when he got a whole team? He followed along the pitch as the play started again, but then Jenn rushed forward from the other side to an offside position, and Rory blew the whistle. “Let’s take a break. Everyone get some water.”
He stood back from them as they crowded around the water bottles, chatting and laughing easily. When another bit of breeze blew at his neck, Rory turned again, immediately this time.
And there was Grace leaning against the outside wall of the locker room, a small duffle bag at her feet. She wore sunglasses, Ray-Bans, so he couldn’t see her expression from here. So he moved closer, his feet drawn to her, his heart in his throat. He licked his lips, and then he was close enough he could see her. She wore a slight smile on her face, a bit crooked, but still a Grace smile. She lifted off the wall and took a step toward him, but stayed there.
He approached her and swallowed hard. She looked good standing in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. Weeks had passed with no word. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. And here she was. Her hair was longer. She looked thinner.
He’d hoped and dreamt of this since she’d left. She raised her glasses onto the top of her head. He badly wanted to touch her, but didn’t know what to do. Where he stood. What she was thinking. They’d never discussed things, so perhaps her heart wasn’t in this like his was. That was his impression from Texas. He didn’t want to scare her away again.
Ach, fuck that.
Rory took one step and pulled her into his arms. He leaned into her neck and breathed deeply, hugged tighter. And after a moment, she hugged him back. If only they could stay this way, no speaking, no words. Definitely no arguing. Would they argue? He didn’t care as long as she was back to stay.
Finally, she pulled away. She wore jeans and trainers today, a T-shirt that read Gone Fishin’, and everything was perfect. She was perfect. She smiled but then immediately bit her bottom lip. She pointed out at the pitch. “The girls look good, Ror. You’ve made it as a coach. You should be proud.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
She was silent after that as she stared out at the girls goofing around. Claire and Jenn were both on the shoulders of Brittany and Jordyn in a game of chicken. Grace laughed as they all tumbled.
“I should warn them to be careful not to get injuries before the playoffs.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“So…”
Should he kiss her? What should he say? Fuck, he wanted to kiss her. He almost had when she bit her lip. He should be doing the biting. Usually Grace talked a mile a minute, had loads of things to say, but she was quiet today. Rory guessed he’d have to do this himself. He took a big breath. “So…are you back to get Bluegill…?”
“No, she’s yours.”
That was like a punch to the gut. “Ah, right so. Are you back to get anything else?”
“You didn’t get rid of my stuff?”
Rory rubbed at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t get myself to.”
She smiled. “Well then, I’ve come to get my stuff.”
“I can give you a lift after practice if you like. Are you going to stay at the house or…?” Rory was making a baws of this. He’d practiced what he would say to her if he’d had a chance, and here he was, and he could barely communicate.
“That would be good. I’d appreciate it.”
A few of the girls noticed her and waved, but they stayed away. She waved back. “Are you going back to Texas right away?” He was fishing but he couldn’t bear it any longer.
“No, not right away.”
Good. That was good. He stepped closer again, hovered over her like a weeping willow tree over the field bunnies back home.
“When are you leaving then?”
A look of surprise crossed her face, her eyebrows raised, her mouth agape. “Did you want me gone so soon?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I was hoping you’d stay.”
She squinted at him. “And why would I want to stay?”
Gillian had changed the music on the speakers to a classical piece, and a collective groan sounded from the girls.
She was making him work for this. And fair enough. Among other things, Grace had shown him there was no more room in his life for complacency or dispassion. If he wanted something, then he needed to seek that out. And not for any person other than himself. Not in a selfish way. Grace was anything but selfish.
As the strings of a violin rose in plea, Rory drew her to him and kissed her. Soft at first to test the waters, but when she didn’t reject him, he put more passion behind the kiss and struggled not to take it too far that he would hurt her or scare her. He pulled away slightly. “Because I want you here. I want you, period. I want you and me to be together for as long as you want us to. I want to coach the Lady Blues and then work my way up to an international level. And then maybe you and I can see the world. I want to live deliberately with you every day. If I fail, that is okay. If I fail you, it’s not. For you, I will be
brave. For you, I will be a better man.”
The words he’d practiced spilled out. Perhaps a bit over the top, but he’d been holding them in for a long time.
Grace blinked rapidly and visibly swallowed, her slender throat swelling and falling. He moved his hand there and rested it gently under her jaw. She jostled around in her pocket and held something up in front of Rory. It was a bracelet of some sort. Small metal clips were joined to form a circle.
“They are fishing clips to attach fishing lures.” She released her hand around his waist and clipped it around his wrist that still cradled her throat.
“I love it. Thank you.”
When she nodded, her chin dipped into the nook between his thumb and finger. He held her chin and pressed his lips to hers again. Never enough. He could never taste her enough. “Will you stay then?”
Her pinched mouth wiggled from side to side, which he found strange and adorable at the same time, much like Grace herself. “If I can find a job, one with healthcare. That’s my momma’s condition. That, and I had to take a small loan from them to pay for private healthcare until that happens. And…” Grace retrieved a cell phone from her back pocket. “I have to have one of these.”
“They aren’t so bad.”
“Emergency purposes only, I told momma, but I’m okay with it.”
Then Rory had a thought. “We could go to Scotland.”
Her eyes widened.
“Everyone gets healthcare there. It’s not tied to your job. You wouldn’t have to worry.”
“What about the Lady Blues? I thought you said you wanted to coach them.”
“I do, but you’re more important than that is.”
She looked skeptical. “More important than rugby?”
“I don’t care if I play another day of rugby again.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t mean that.”
He sighed. “No, I don’t. But if I play or coach, it’s going to be on my terms. Like beer and pizza terms.”
Grace laughed and hugged him tight. “Maybe we’ll hang around here a bit longer, but I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland.”