From the Start

by Melissa Tagg

  Kate slid her plate away, pulled into his memory.

  “So we drove away from that house, and Norah—she was my case manager—took me out on this country road. Told me life hadn’t been fair to me, and she wouldn’t blame me for being angry. And she parks next to this old barn, pulls a box out of her trunk. It had all these figurines inside it—glass, old, ugly. Said she had planned to give them to Goodwill but suddenly had a better idea for them.”

  In the background, the country song drifted into the smooth lilt of an old Elvis ballad. “Next thing I know, she’s chucking a figurine at the barn wall. Hands me one and tells me to throw it. We emptied her entire box.”

  Colton looked up now, gaze flickering as if traveling from the past back to the present. “Anyway, after that, she asked me if I played any sports. Said with my throwing arm, I should try baseball.”

  “Baseball?”

  He grinned. “She’s a baseball fanatic. So I went out for it just for her. I went out for pretty much every sport over the next couple years. Football was where I excelled.”

  And it had become his escape. A coping mechanism. Like throwing glass against a barn wall.

  Their waitress stopped at their table then, cleared their plates, and left the bill. When she left, Kate cleared her throat. “Thanks for telling me that, Colton.”

  He shrugged. “Should fill in a few of those eighty-five thousand words at least.”

  “Have you kept in touch with Norah?”

  “Not too much. She’s sent me some cards over the years. I sent her tickets to that last playoff game in January. We didn’t part on the best of terms—I was such an angry kid back then. Didn’t realize at the time how lucky I was to have her. Not every foster kid ends up with a case manager like that.”

  “Is that why you bought Webster at the auction yesterday? Trying to be an influence in his life the way she was in yours?”

  He lifted his shoulders once more. “Or I just miss the game so much that I’d play catch even with a kid who can’t stand me.”

  Maybe. But she doubted it.

  “Excuse me. You’re Colton Greene, aren’t you?”

  Kate looked up to see a college kid standing at the edge of their table, hopeful eyes ogling Colton. Colton nodded.

  “Guys, I told you it was him,” the student called over his shoulder.

  And for the next ten minutes, she watched Colton sign autograph after autograph, pretending he wasn’t thrilled.

  While she pretended she wasn’t getting attached.

  When was the last time he’d been this out of breath?

  Colton pumped his legs as he tore after Bear, over grass and stray leaves. His focus darted between the ball in Seth’s friend’s hands and the deck chairs across the Walkers’ front lawn, marking off the end zone.

  “Get him, Rae!”

  Raegan was several yards ahead of Colton, and just as Bear was about to reach the makeshift end zone, she stretched out to grab his arm.

  Kate’s whooping a few feet back joined his own cheers.

  “Oh yeah. Take that, Bear McKinley!” Laughter simmered in Raegan’s voice as she yanked the football away from the guy whose size fit his name.

  “That’s my girl,” Case called from the porch, lifting his root beer with the arm not stuck in a sling.

  A tepid breeze skated over Colton’s face as he turned, grain dust from the field across the lane floating in the air. Kate lifted both hands for double high-fives, her hair in straggles around rosy cheeks. “Now aren’t you happy you ended up with two girls on your team?”

  He could barely feel the badgering ache in his knee, its futile reminder that this was pretty much the only form of football he’d be playing anytime soon strangely void of its usual punch. “Hey, I wasn’t unhappy to have the two of you on my side.” He elbowed her. “I knew we could take on Seth and Bear and Ava.”

  This is what a Sunday afternoon should look like. Patchy sunlight filtering through clouds and tree branches over a rambling stretch of grass. Church clothes long since traded in for outdoor wear—sweatshirts and jackets now discarded on the porch steps.

  And friends he hadn’t known more than two weeks split into teams for very possibly the most unorganized game of touch football he’d ever played. Bear gave Raegan a playful punch in the arm as she sauntered past.

  So maybe yesterday’s gig hadn’t gone well. Maybe he’d looked ridiculous sitting next to a TV veteran like Link Porter and stammering in front of the camera.

  But for these few sunny hours, none of that mattered. All that mattered was getting the old football he’d found in Case’s garage down the lawn and past those hunter-green lawn chairs.

  And once the game was over, well, he already had plans for the rest of the day.

  He placed one palm on each sister’s shoulder as they huddled. “Okay, ladies, last possession and clearly our opponents don’t think we’ve got a shot.”

  Kate pulled a band from her pocket and gathered her hair into a ponytail. “I say we try a double-reverse play. It was so sweet yesterday when the Hawkeyes did that. All those hand-offs—so tricky but so perfectly executed. Like a complicated but flawlessly composed sentence.”

  Colton tasted his own delight. “I have never liked you more than I do right now, Kate Walker.”

  An alluring flash flickered in her bronze eyes. “Let’s try it.”

  As Kate reached for her water bottle, he took the ball from Raegan. “Much as I admire your pluck, it might be a bit much to pull off. Let’s do a simple fake. Raegan, you run up the left side, and I’ll make like I’m gonna throw. Kate, you come around behind me and be ready for the hand-off. You’re going to take it down the field.”

  “You kidding? They’ll be all over me.”

  Colton shook his head. “Nope. Bear only has eyes for Rae, and—”

  Raegan sputtered. “Um . . . what?”

  “And Ava’s been the interception queen all afternoon. She’ll try to predict where I’m going to throw and head there.”

  Kate folded her arms. “But Seth—”

  “He’s just as useless as Bear. Trust me, he won’t be watching you. You’ve got this.”

  “Hurry up, Greene,” Ava’s smug voice called.

  Doubt brushed a frown over Kate’s face. “If anyone runs it, it should be you, Colt.”

  “Uh-uh. It’s all you. Now line up, Walkers.”

  Kate sighed and took her place in front of him, Raegan off to the right. Kate leaned over for the hike. She snapped the ball, Raegan took off . . . and the play came together just as he’d described. His fingers brushed Kate’s as he handed off the football, and he saw the blend of resolve and glee curl over her as she found her opening and spurted forward. Seconds later he cheered as she flew toward the end zone and made her touchdown.

  “That’s my other girl!” Another yell from Case.

  Raegan hooted and punched Bear’s arm, and Seth and Ava let out twin groans. Kate was still out of breath when Colton reached her, her ponytail loosened from the run and her cheeks red.

  “Told you the fake would work.” He slung one arm around her shoulder as they headed toward the house.

  “Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

  “I was also right about the game—admit it. You totally see the beauty of football now, yeah? It’s your new favorite sport? You’ll never miss another Super Bowl?”

  The breeze embraced her laughter as she matched his pace. “I can appreciate it, okay? Good enough?”

  “For now. I’ve still got a few weeks to turn you into a fanatic.” Although it felt like too short a time. Days he’d once thought might drag here in Iowa had instead raced by in their fullness.

  Kate stopped, reached up to rub her eyes. “I got some dust or an eyelash or something in my eye.”

  He turned to face her. “Need me to take a look?” Her hair smelled of vanilla—or maybe coconut—and she blinked.

  But instead of rubbing her eye again, she dropped her hand. “Why do you love footb
all so much, Colt?”

  “I like learning plays. I like the simplicity of the objective, but the intricacy of getting there.” He shrugged, finger grazing the side of her brow as he studied her irritated eye. “Favorite was calling audibles. Those moments in a game when I’d study the field, the defense. I’d get this feeling in my gut. Last-minute change of plans. It was . . . ” He paused, his trail of thoughts suddenly off course. “Exhilarating.”

  She blinked again, gaze speckled with self-conscious uncertainty. “I . . . uh . . . I think my eye’s fine.”

  It was his turn to blink. “Right.” He swallowed, stepped back, realized everyone else had already gone inside, and cleared his throat, grasping for the composure he’d somehow lost in the past sixty seconds.

  Logan’s sister.

  Who looked way too great winded with a football tucked under her arm.

  Strictly business.

  He started up the porch steps, trying to ignore the awkward tension that’d dropped like precipitation, despite a cloudless sky. Seth and Ava dropped onto the loveseat in the living room when he entered, and Kate and Raegan took up opposite sides of the couch.

  “Hello, Sunday afternoon nap,” Bear said as he settled into the recliner.

  “No sleeping allowed.” Colton stood in front of the group. “I’ve got plans for us.” He beckoned to the pile of DVDs stacked on the built-in shelves next to where the TV hung over the fireplace.

  Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Please tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”

  “I asked your dad if he had any of your movies. Turns out he has them all.” Colton grinned. “Someone make popcorn. We’re having a movie marathon.”

  “Already on the popcorn,” Case said as he passed through the room toward the kitchen.

  “Which one should we watch first, Rosie?”

  “Rosie?” Seth draped his arm along the back of the loveseat.

  “Main character in The African Queen. Katharine Hepburn’s first color film,” Colton explained. “Only role Humphrey Bogart ever won an Oscar for.”

  Everyone stared.

  “What? I listen when Rosie talks.” He fingered through the DVD cases. “Whoa, Mario Lopez starred in one of your movies? The Saved by the Bell guy?”

  “Colt—”

  “Ooh, is that the one with the girl from Full House, too?” Raegan jumped up from the couch. “Heartline loves to cast old ’90s TV stars. Kate’s met most of them, too.”

  “Guys, I really don’t want—”

  “Ooh, ooh!” Raegan pulled a case from the middle of the pile. “I love this one. It takes place in Charleston. And for once, they filmed on location. It was right after Kate won her Emmy, so they spent a little more making it, and—”

  Kate jumped to her feet, cutting Raegan off. “Eye’s still bothering me. I’m gonna go . . . ” Her voice dragged in time with her feet, and she disappeared from the room.

  Colton pulled the DVD case from Raegan and opened it. “Charleston it is.” He popped the disc in the player, picked a spot on the couch and sat. But when Kate still hadn’t returned by the time the opening music faded, he turned to Raegan. “What’s taking Kate so long to come back?” he whispered.

  Raegan looked from the screen to Colton, bit her lip. “Uh, I’m not sure she is coming back.” Raegan’s long sigh sent her bangs fanning, and he tilted his head in question. The smell of popcorn wafted from the kitchen. “She’s embarrassed by her movies. Always has been.”

  “But I thought . . . I planned this for her.” Had thought it’d be a fun way to show his appreciation for yesterday. Get the gang together to admire her stuff. Make her feel good or special or something.

  Bad call, Greene.

  He rose, angled between the couch and loveseat, and headed toward the second floor. He found Kate in Beckett’s bedroom. She stood next to the tabletop desk, framed picture in her hand.

  “Hey, you. You disappeared.”

  She’d taken out her contacts and now wore her glasses. She looked good both ways, but the glasses made her look extra writerly. Studious.

  Cute.

  He swallowed the thought, came up beside her, and glanced at the photo she held. “Your mom and Beckett. Is that San Diego?”

  She nodded. “When each of us turned thirteen, Mom took us on a special weekend trip—just her and us. And we could pick anywhere in the continental US. Beck picked San Diego.”

  “Where’d you pick?”

  She set the photo back down, an imprint of dust marking its spot. “New York City. I wanted to see her foundation headquarters.”

  “The one you’re going to Africa for?” She’d told him about it yesterday on their way home from Ames, in words that released so fast she couldn’t have hidden her excitement if she’d tried. He’d fallen asleep last night trying to picture her in a little village in a dusty desert.

  “Yeah. Did I tell you my mom helped start it? She wrote the grant that got it off the ground. I’ve read the thing once or twice—saved a copy of it. Pages and pages of statistics and strategic plans and case studies. It’s a masterpiece.”

  “I’m gonna guess you’ve read it more than once or twice.”

  “Crazy thing is, my mom never planned to be a nonprofit leader.” She turned to Colt. “Mom wanted to be a medical missionary. Went on a trip to Ethiopia in high school and decided her calling was to be a doctor and move to Africa. She was premed in college, applied to med school twice, but never got in.”

  “So the foundation was Plan B.” He perched on the corner of the desk.

  Kate nodded. “If she couldn’t be a doctor herself, she wanted to help make it possible for others. The foundation opens clinics and helps train locals to be doctors, nurses, and paramedics. It’s amazing to think about—this random, regular woman from Iowa, starting a foundation that now, almost forty years later, is still going strong and doing incredible work. She didn’t do it alone, of course. But still.”

  The wistfulness in Kate’s voice tugged at him, understanding wedging into the space between them. What had sounded out-of-the-box to him yesterday—the idea of her up and leaving the country for three months, a short-term trip at least temporarily upending her writing career—suddenly made sense. This trip to Africa wasn’t a whim. It might’ve come out of the blue, but she’d been waiting for it, craving it.

  This was her personal NFL draft. “I think you take after your mom more than you know, Kate.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “I know I only met your mom a couple times back in college. But I think maybe the way you saved a copy of that grant she wrote, well, that’s what that pile of DVD cases out in the living room would’ve been to her. And is to your dad.”

  She tried to let out a sarcastic laugh, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “I’m serious. You can write them off if you want, be your own harshest critic. But they’re pieces of you. They’re something you created, and that gives them value.” He dipped his head toward her. “Plus, from what I hear, they’re pretty great stories.”

  “They’re love stories, Colton.”

  “I like love. Most people I know kinda do.” He pushed off from the desk, only inches between them. “But if you really, really don’t want us to watch any of your movies, I’ll go put a stop to it right now. I’ll insist on watching the Patriots-Broncos game.”

  Kate’s gaze wavered behind her glasses, hesitancy waltzing with what might be appreciation. She lowered her arms and tucked her hands into the pouch of her hoodie. “That game’ll be a blowout. With both Martin and Christoff out, the Pats will get slammed.”

  He felt his jaw slacken.

  “What?” Kate’s glasses slipped down her nose as she glanced at Colton and smiled. “I listen when you talk, too.” She started for the door. “Raegan’s right. The Charleston one is the best. I hope that’s the one you chose.”

  He followed her from the room.

  Logan’s sister. Strictly business.

  8

  Oh, K
ate, thank goodness you’re here.”

  Raegan’s panicked voice was the first thing to greet Kate as she stepped out of her car. She’d parked halfway down the block from the coffee shop, having arrived downtown at her sister’s beckoning. The shadow of storefronts reached over her and across the street, piles of sandbags lay strewn at the river’s edge.

  “Whoa, we’re sandbagging already? We’re that worried about a flood?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about this.” Bangles jiggled and clinked at Raegan’s wrist as she pointed down the block, toward the line of people stretching from the coffee shop entrance. She could feel the fidgety tension even from here.

  “Is there an impending coffee shortage I don’t know about? Is this like a bank run back during the Great Depression? Like in It’s a Wonderful Life?” And what did Raegan expect her to do about it?

  “Don’t joke, Kate. It’s not pretty.” Raegan tugged on her arm and pulled her to the sidewalk. “Maple Valley only retains its quaint charm so long as all its citizens are properly caffeinated. Without it we’re the queen’s court in Alice in Wonderland. Everything gets very ‘off with your head.’”

  “Dramatic much?”

  By now they’d reached Coffee Coffee’s entrance, the disgruntled crowd riddled with scowls. Raegan pushed her toward the door.

  “We can’t butt in line, Rae.”

  “We’re not butting in line. You’re going to go help man the counter. You’ve done the barista thing before.”

  “But I—”

  “Please. For the sake of our entire community’s sanity. Help us.”

  The smell of coffee and something pumpkin greeted her as Raegan shoved her through the door. The line that ended outside reached to the front counter inside. One lone woman ran the cash register, hair slipping free from her braids and frazzled expression matching her frantic movements.

  “That’s Amelia Bentley. She works for the newspaper but picks up a few hours here, too.”