Home Field Advantage

by Johnson, Janice Kay

  "But why would they deny it?" Marian asked, perplexed.

  He sounded tired. "They always do. Haven't you noticed?"

  "You're a cynic," she said in surprise.

  He snorted. "A realist." Then, "To hell with football. I want to kiss you."

  She murmured agreement just before his mouth covered hers. When he lifted his head several long, languorous moments later, his mouth curled into a grin.

  "You missed me."

  "Well..." Teasing, she drew the word out.

  John smothered it with a heady kiss. Then he pulled her into the living room and sank down on the couch with a groan, drawing her with him.

  "Okay, tell me all about your meeting," Marian said, reveling in the warm circle of his arm.

  "Oh, maybe tomorrow," he countered lazily, then grinned when she glared at him with mock ferocity. "Okay, okay!"

  "So?"

  He sat up and his arm dropped from her shoulders. "They want to expand my role," he said. "They say viewers like me. I have a high Q rating, or whatever the hell they call it." The tiredness had left his voice, and he sounded elated by his news. "The network wants me to cover other sports. You know they won the right to broadcast the next summer Olympics. They want me there, one of the back-up anchors. That's the chance of a lifetime! I'll be at the Super Bowl, the NBA playoffs, maybe the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what this means?"

  "No," she said numbly. "No, what does it mean?"

  His eyes glittered and he stood, beginning to pace as he talked ebulliently. "That I'm not just another has-been who took one too many hits. That I'm good at what I do. You don't think about retirement when you get drafted by the NFL, but finding out you're washed up at thirty leaves too damned many years staring you in the face. I wanted to know that I could do something else just as well. Now I do."

  "But...what about the horses?"

  "Isaiah can handle the business for a few years. I'll be here when I can, and I'll provide the money to back him up. We can hire some more people, buy into bloodlines that were too rich for us. It's one hell of a chance, Marian."

  Still she sat there, feeling almost nothing as she saw her dreams washed away. "You'd never be home."

  John seemed not to notice her state of shock. "It'd only be for a few years. You can travel with me once we're married. If you go back to college the way you've talked about, we'd need to hire a housekeeper anyway. Wouldn't you like to travel, see Europe?"

  Her voice was stiff and rusty, as though she hadn't used it in a long while. "What about our children?"

  "They'd adjust," he said blithely.

  "Adjust? You mean grow up. The housekeeper would raise them while we were jet-setting!"

  His eyes darkened. "We're not back to that."

  "Back?" Marian stood, too, her head held high. "I believed you when you said you needed this job to support the ranch. I told myself you were a good father, that I could stand waving good-bye every Friday, because at least the other half of the year we would be a family. I told myself that I..." Her voice broke and she steeled herself. "That I loved you. And now you breeze in and announce that once we're married we can dump the kids on some hired woman who'll take my place."

  "That's not what I said."

  "No? Maybe you should interpret it for me."

  "I said I've been offered a terrific job that'll mean traveling quite a bit for a few years. That I'd like my wife to come with me sometimes. That I need this, and I need you."

  Betrayal tightened her throat. "No, you don't need me. You need a new housekeeper. One who'll convince Emma that all daddies disappear every Friday, that being raised by a stranger is normal!"

  "By God..." The words were ripped from between clenched teeth and his eyes blazed. "Don't tell me what kind of father I am! You've sacrificed your whole life to two toddlers who'll grow up knowing they owe you. Don't try to tell me that's better than having parents who live interesting, vital fives! Who can show their children what life can be like!"

  "Do you know how much you remind me of Mark right now?" Marian asked bitterly. "The biggest difference is that you can have your cake and eat it, too. You can afford to pay somebody to take your responsibilities. And that's what it amounts to, no matter how nicely you dress it up. So don't expect me to be grateful because you want me to abandon my children to go with you!"

  Anger radiated from every tense line of John's body when he stalked toward her. "I'm not your ex-husband," he said harshly. "But you're never going to believe that, are you?"

  She didn't back down, however much it hurt. "Do I have any reason to?"

  He gripped her chin and lifted it, his mouth twisting as he looked down into her eyes. "I love you."

  I will survive, Marian told herself fiercely. I will survive.

  "I need more than that," she whispered.

  The look of agony on his face was more answer than she had expected to receive. But then his lips blotted out her anger and misery and bitterness, searing hers in a kiss of emotions so stark she couldn't respond. She stood passive in his grip, accepting but unable to give.

  In an instant it was over and she was left alone, the slam of the front door echoing in her ears. She cried again, but these tears burned her cheeks.

  *****

  John rode down the demons, working his favorite mare in the indoor arena until her chestnut coat was slick with sweat and she anticipated his every command as though she read his mind.

  As he rode, his turmoil simmered into anger, then frustration, and the clarity that told him what a fool he'd been. What else had he expected from Marian? He knew her ex-husband had walked out because he didn't want the responsibility of children. He knew she'd had to devote her life to Anna and Jesse because she'd had no choice. He'd wooed her with such care, easing past the barrier of mistrust. And then what did he do but sweep in and announce that he was taking her away from it all! Forget family dinners and PTA meetings—imagine Paris, London, New Orleans! And he was surprised that he'd scared her off?

  But he'd meant what he said, too. Maybe that made him selfish, but he wasn't ready for a life that held nothing but PTA meetings and leading a stallion around the show ring. If nothing else, he'd loved being an athlete. Next to the emotional highs he'd felt on the football field, life could seem pretty flat. Life had seemed flat, John corrected himself, until he met Marian.

  If he had to choose, he would do it. He wasn't going to lose her, not so he could sit in a booth and call somebody else's game. But what if it was too late? Her willingness to trust a man was all too fragile; tonight he'd splintered it into shards that had stung. Would he be able to repair her faith in him?

  And if he did, would he be able to turn on the Olympic Games a couple of years from now and not feel resentment?

  He swore, his voice bleak, and the mare's ears flickered back. He clucked reassuringly and her stride lengthened. For a moment he blanked everything from his mind and let himself feel the rhythm, the contained power, the incredible obedience of an animal who didn't have to obey.

  At last he unsaddled her and walked her out in the dark pasture, stumbling on hillocks and clumps of rough grass. When the mare's breathing had quieted and she felt cool under his palm, he turned back to the barn. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Isaiah waiting, dark and massive but comforting in his familiarity.

  "Saw the lights."

  John nodded and walked past. Loosely tying the Arabian, he unhooked a bucket of brushes and combs from a nail on the wall and began grooming the mare.

  Isaiah laid an arm across her rump and watched John. "Bad trip?"

  John concentrated on working the snarls from the flaxen mane. At last he said, "The network wants me to take on more. Some basketball and baseball, special events. They're offering me a damned good contract."

  "Did you talk to Malone?"

  Pete Malone was John's agent. "He's all for it," John said shortly.

  "Nice cut, huh?"

  John grunted his agreement. He dropped the comb into the
bucket and picked up a brush. When he started in on the mare's shoulder, her skin rippled in reaction and she whuffled softly.

  "So what's the problem?"

  “Marian."

  "Doesn't want you on the road?"

  "That's putting it mildly," John said. "She sees it as deserting the kids."

  Isaiah didn't say anything for a long while. When he did, he asked the question John hadn't confronted yet. "Do you want to be on the road that much?"

  Methodically John worked his way toward the mare's hindquarters. "I don't know," he said. "I'd like to be at the Olympics, the Super Bowl..."he shrugged. "The rest I could take or leave. I get sick of planes and hotels and I don't want to be away from Emma that much." He was silent for a moment. "Well, it's pretty obvious I'll be turning them down."

  Isaiah picked up a brush and groomed the horse's other side. The two men worked in silence until John tossed the hoofpick into the bucket and unlooped the lead to return the mare to her stall. Isaiah hung up the bucket and followed him. A minute later, they left the warm darkness of the barn. Above, the moon was full but half obscured by a bank of clouds chased by a chill breeze.

  "You know..." Isaiah said, in that Oklahoma drawl he hadn't lost, "seems to me the network wants you to go deep and Marian wants two yards in a cloud of dust."

  "So?"

  Isaiah slapped a meaty hand on John's back. "There're other plays. You're the quarterback. Call one."

  John stopped. "You're suggesting a compromise."

  "You were All-Pro, weren't you?"

  "For a damned good reason."

  "Yup," Isaiah agreed, deadpan. "Me."

  John surprised himself with a snort of laughter. "You've got it ass-backward. You were lucky to have me."

  Isaiah's teeth flashed white in the darkness. "Whichever, we made a hell of a team."

  Abruptly sober, John said, "What do you think? Will I short the ranch if I take on any more assignments?"

  "I'm not going to give you an easy out like that. I can handle it. The call's yours," he repeated, then walked away. " 'Night."

  John echoed him, but didn't head for the house right away. Maybe Isaiah had something, he thought.

  Then again, maybe not. Compromise cut both ways. When you hurt, you didn't compromise. Besides, he wasn't so sure the issue really was his job anymore. He had a feeling it was trust, and trust didn't come with a maybe.

  *****

  Marian was stung by the sound of the two men laughing outside. She lay rigid in the darkness, listening for their voices, for footsteps on the porch.

  She never heard John come in, for which she was grateful. She almost wished one of the twins would wake up and creep down the hall to sleep with Mommy. Jesse especially liked to do that, and right now his small warm body would have been a bulwark against her anguish. He would have reminded her what was important: her children. She had to put them first! They had a right to expect that, especially when they could count on only one parent.

  Or was she being unreasonable once again, her fears an indelible impression left by a man whose face she could scarcely picture and whom she no longer cared about?

  Staring dry-eyed into the darkness, Marian remembered how happy she had been just yesterday. The fall was more agonizing than if John had never loved her, never asked her to marry him. Was she a fool? she wondered. Wouldn't half a loaf be better than none at all? She'd told herself she wanted to share however much of his life John would allow her.

  But she had lied. She didn't want a part. She wanted it all! Was that so wrong, to ask for as much in return as you were willing to give? Why couldn't he want a family, and not just a wife?

  Did it matter anymore? She'd been too blunt, even cruel, to have a second chance. She should be very glad for Mark's change of conscience, because one way or another she would have to leave John and Emma. Even if John didn't ask her to go, staying would be impossible. Marian dreaded telling Emma, but she wondered if Emma needed her as much as she had convinced herself the child did. Lately the five-year-old had even seemed to resent the twins, as though she chafed at the new boundaries a real family would provide. Perhaps a childless housekeeper who was paid to give Emma her full attention would be best.

  Marian tried to bury her face in the pillow, to shut out the thoughts that gave her no peace, but of course it didn't work. As the hours crept on, she drifted in and out of nightmarish sleep, gratefully conscious when at last Jesse did climb into bed with her and nestle against her back.

  When morning poked watery wisps of sunlight in her window, Marian dragged herself up to dress the twins and face breakfast. She winced after a glance at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were heavy and tired, her hair stuck out at odd angles, and her skin was pasty. When she and her children trailed into the kitchen, John was already pouring cereal into a bowl for Emma.

  "I'm sorry," Marian said mechanically. "I guess I overslept."

  He glanced at her. "Don't worry about it. Emma and I are capable of feeding ourselves."

  She couldn't have said another word if her life had depended on it. Silently she lifted Anna and Jesse onto their booster seats, then headed for the cupboard for the other boxes of cereal.

  Steam already curled out of the tea kettle, so she poured herself a cup of spice tea, then got down bowls for the twins.

  "I don't want cereal," Anna said. "I want syrup."

  "Your mom looks tired," John said. "Why don't you settle for some Lucky Charms this morning?"

  "Waffles," Anna said stubbornly.

  "F'ench toast," Jesse contributed.

  Marian was just as glad to have something to do that would keep her from having to sit down at the table and face John across it. "Okay," she said. "But one or the other. Shall we flip a coin?"

  Two matching pairs of dark eyes exchanged a look, then Anna said, "Waffles."

  Normally Marian would have been bothered by another example of her daughter's dominance, but right now she was grateful for Jesse's capitulation. Mercifully, John stood up and brought his dishes to the sink just as she was ready to sit down.

  She avoided meeting his eyes, though she felt his gaze searching her face. He said nothing, however, just followed Emma out. He never appeared for lunch, and at dinner he brought Isaiah with him.

  Between them, Emma and Isaiah filled any gaps in the conversation at the dinner table. Marian was astonished at how voluble the big black man could be. What's more, he was tactful enough not to show by even a glance or raised eyebrow that he noticed the tension between John and Marian.

  The week fell into a pattern. Marian avoided John whenever she could, and since she managed it easily most of the time, she suspected that he was doing the same. When they had to speak, they did, but as briefly as possible. It was like living in a house with a stranger.

  Marian began to read the classified ads for rentals again, and even drove by a couple, but she realized she was hopelessly confused about what she would need. Could she trust Mark to keep sending money? She hated to rent a house as wretched as the two she'd almost ended up with, but what if she got in over her head and Mark's spasm of conscience ended?

  And then there was the problem of starting her day-care business all over again. Would a landlord of a nicer house allow a horde of children to take it over? Of course, she would have to be licensed and then advertise in the paper and discover the foibles of new children. Would John let Emma come to her?

  Or maybe, she thought dispiritedly, she could afford to pay day-care for Anna and Jesse if she could find a good enough job. And if checks kept coming from Mark. Like a circle, she kept bumping into the same problem.

  Hugging Emma when she bounded in the door from school on Thursday, Marian made herself face the truth. She didn't want to go. Already this felt like home. Rhodo had boomed a few barks when he saw the school bus and Aja had yapped a greeting. Fat Hannah lay beside a heat register in the kitchen, eyes at contented half-mast. The twins were the happiest they had ever been, not having to compete with
six other children for her attention. Marian couldn't quite convince herself that Emma would be happier without her, either, not when she saw her bright dark eyes and the nonchalance with which she accepted her father's inevitable departures. She was more confident now; she trusted Marian...

  Who was about to pull the rug out from under her. All because Marian wanted more from the man she loved than he was willing to give.

  When Friday came again, Marian realized that she had managed to dawdle an entire week away. Was she hoping that John would admit undying love and throw the job over? She was lucky he hadn't asked her to pack instead. If she had any pride at all, she would tender her notice before he did.

  Marian was cleaning the oven when she heard John come down the stairs with his packed bags, ready to leave for the airport. She hesitated, then quickly washed and dried her hands and went out to the front porch. Today Emma wasn't home from school yet, and the twins were napping. Even the dogs must be wandering off in one of the pastures. Marian had a superstitious feeling that somebody should see John off.

  He had pulled the car out front earlier, and now was tossing his bags into the trunk. When she appeared, he slammed the trunk and came over to the foot of the porch steps. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he wore a western-cut brown suit with a string tie, and hand-tooled cowboy boots on his feet. He was so handsome, tall and lean and effortlessly graceful, that she felt her heart constrict.

  "Have a good trip," she said.

  "Thanks. I left the name of the hotel on my desk." He put one booted foot on the bottom stair. "Marian..."

  "I've been looking at rentals again," she said, hurrying into speech. "My ex-husband sent me some back child support. I can manage now. And this..." She gestured with one hand. "This isn't going to work."

  "Marian..."

  "I said unforgivable things to you. I want to apologize."

  His dark grey eyes never wavered. "But you meant them."

  She had to look away, and color rose in her cheeks. "No, I…