Home Field Advantage

by Johnson, Janice Kay

  "Yes," he said quietly. "And maybe you're partly right. But maybe I'm partly right, too. Can you think about that?"

  “I…”

  “Give me a few days." The intensity in his voice brought her eyes back to his face. "Wait'll I come back Sunday. Can you at least do that?"

  "I wouldn't have left Emma," she said.

  "Don't rent a place. Will you promise me that?"

  This wasn't the first promise she had made him, and she wished with all her heart that it wouldn't be the last. Speech seemed beyond her, so she only nodded jerkily.

  He studied her for a moment longer, then said gruffly, "Okay. I'll see you Sunday."

  And so, for what might be the last time, she watched him drive away. The dull ache of the past few days had turned to terror and hope. What had he meant?

  How would she survive until Sunday, when she would find out?

  CHAPTER 12

  "You guys want a snack?" Marian called. She let the back screen door slam behind her as she strolled to the railing of the porch. It was Saturday afternoon, a late, crisp Indian summer day. The small apple trees John had planted were bare now, their yellow leaves scattered and sodden on the grass beneath them. Bundled in jackets, Emma and Anna were swinging, while Jesse came down the long metal slide.

  "Sure," Emma said. "Watch this!"

  She pumped harder, arcing forward and back, higher and higher, her braid soaring behind her. Then, just at the right minute, she jumped and landed rolling on the grass, where Aja pounced on her.

  Giggling, Emma leaped up and ran around to the back of the swing. "Here, I'll push you, Anna."

  "Not too high," Marian warned, starting down the porch steps. She was easily thirty feet from the swing set when Anna called, "Mommy, watch."

  "Anna, what are you...?" But the sentence was never finished.

  Awkwardly, too late in the swing, Anna jumped, just like Emma had. Marian started to run. In horror she saw her young daughter slam down on her back, her head jerking sideways.

  Emma screamed as Marian dropped to her knees beside Anna. Right next to her head was a roller skate half hidden in the grass, and blood already soaked Anna's dark hair. Her small body was still, her eyes closed. Saliva ran out of the corner of her mouth.

  "Oh, my God," Marian whispered. She wanted to sob and snatch Anna up into her arms, but instead she stood and said in an astonishingly calm voice, "Emma, you stay here. Don't touch Anna, don't let Jesse touch her. Do you understand? She shouldn't be moved at all."

  Emma's face was very pale, her eyes huge and dark, but she nodded.

  "I'm going to call for an ambulance. I'll be right back."

  She ran. Her hand was shaking as she dialed 911. The voice on the other end was supremely calm and reassuring, taking her address, issuing instructions. Marian dropped the receiver and ran again. Jesse and Emma stood beside Anna's still form, staring down at her with identical expressions of shock and bafflement.

  This time Marian let herself take Anna's tiny hand. Wake up, she prayed. Please wake up. But the little girl didn't move, except for the barely visible rise and fall of her chest.

  Marian looked at Emma. "Can you go find Isaiah, honey?"

  The five-year-old's mouth trembled. "I'm scared."

  "I know," Marian said quietly. "I'm scared, too. But she'll be fine. I know she will." She has to be. "Most of us bump our head sooner or later. I fell off Snowball once and was unconscious."

  "She looks dead," Emma said.

  A giant hand seemed to be crushing Marian's chest. If she let herself think—fear—she would fall apart.

  Oh, John! Where are you?

  But he wasn't here. She had to be strong and reassure Jesse and Emma. There would be time enough for her own terror later... If Anna didn't wake up soon.

  "Please," she said. "I need you to do this, honey."

  Emma's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears and she ran, tearing around the house toward the barns. Distantly Marian heard her voice. "Isaiah! Isaiah, where are you?"

  Marian held out her other arm and Jesse came to her, clinging like a barnacle. He hadn't the words to express his fear, but Marian reassured him anyway, talking as much to distract herself as for his sake.

  It seemed forever before she heard a siren approaching, the scream gaining in volume as the ambulance turned into their lane and approached. The dogs ran barking toward the front of the house. Where was Isaiah? Marian wondered frantically, but neither Emma nor he appeared, so she scooped up Jesse and hurried around the house.

  "This way," she said, and the two men with a stretcher followed. She couldn't do anything but watch as they slid a collar around Anna's tiny neck and slowly, with comforting efficiency, eased her onto the stretcher. Even her small hand that lay palm up was positioned the same.

  Marian wanted desperately to go in the ambulance with Anna, but how could she? A glance toward the barns told her the hands had all gone home for lunch; only Isaiah's truck was there. But where was he? Emma, her face tear-streaked, came running from the barn.

  "I can't find him," she cried. "Why did they put Anna in there?"

  "So the doctor can look at her," Marian said. She still sounded miraculously calm, though she didn't feel it. To the driver she said, "I'll have to follow you. I'd better at least leave a note, and I have to bring the kids..."

  "She'll be fine," he said gently. "Come straight to the emergency room."

  Marian tried to breathe slowly. "Yes. Thank you. I'll be right behind you."

  She wanted John as she had never wanted anybody in her life—to hold her hand, to hug her, to give her strength. Still carrying Jesse, Marian hurried into the house and John's office. She set her son down. Where was the phone number? Whom had he said to ask for?

  She was to call the network if she ever needed him, he'd said. They would get in touch with him.

  But there were papers all over his desk, including the mail from yesterday and today that she had tossed there. She reached for a folded letter that had something scribbled on the back. Jesse tugged at her shirt and when she turned, Marian let the letter flutter onto the blotter.

  "Potty," her son whispered.

  Oh, Lord, not now.

  "I can take him," Emma offered.

  "Jesse?"

  He nodded and accepted Emma's hand, not much larger than his. Love for both children swelled in Marian's chest and tears stung her eyes hody. She was so lucky—she had been so lucky... Please, God... She swallowed hard and made herself take more slow breaths. She had to hold on. There was no one else.

  No, wait. She wasn’t thinking. Try his cell phone first. Hands shaking, she did, but he must have it turned off. She left a message, then studied the clutter on his desk.

  The letter she’d noticed lay open on the tan blotter. No, not a letter. A bill. From an attorney. She reached for it, intending to turn it over, but she saw a name. Mark Wells.

  For a moment she was blank, unable to find any connection. Uncomprehendingly, she read the bill and the note scribbled at the bottom. The services of a private detective. Atlanta, Georgia. Confidential.

  John had hired an attorney to find her ex-husband and make him pay Marian what he owed her. The knowledge was there, in black and white. Incredulously she read it again. The confidential part... That meant he had never intended she know who was responsible for Mark's change of heart.

  But she had no time to think about it now. She turned the bill over—no, that was a note about something else. Where was the phone number? Forcing herself to search methodically, she found it on a Post-it stuck to the blotter but covered by the mail she had carelessly tossed.

  Once again she had to explain herself, but the woman she spoke to promised she would track John down and give him the message. "But his daughter's not hurt?"

  "No, mine," Marian said. "But... I thought he ought to know. I'm taking Emma as well as my son to the hospital now. He can call home, but I don't know when I'll be back."

  "I'll get in touch with him righ
t away," the woman assured her again.

  "Thank you." Marian hung up. Upstairs, she met Emma and Jesse in the hall.

  "He didn't make it," Emma announced. "But I wiped it up with a towel and I helped him change clothes."

  "I don't know what I'd do without you," Marian said. "Let's go now."

  At the car she had started to buckle the children in when she heard the clatter of horse's hooves. She looked up to see Isaiah gallop around the paddock fence toward her. He pulled the sweating mare up and slid off. His dark eyes displayed a trace of worry as he glanced at the car, as though counting noses, then at Marian.

  "Did I hear a siren?"

  "Anna fell off the swing and hit her head. She's unconscious. They've already taken her to the hospital."

  He touched her shoulder with one meaty hand, then let it fall back to his side. "Leave the kids with me," he said gruffly. "You go ahead."

  Marian felt like falling on his chest and sobbing. "Thank you" sounded woefully inadequate, but she said it anyway.

  "Shall I call John?" he asked.

  "I already left a message for him."

  He only nodded. "You let me know how she is and if there's anything I can do."

  Marian bit her lip. "Yes. Of course." She hugged the two crying children good-bye and drove to the hospital, operating on some mechanical level that allowed her to shift gears and obey traffic signs and park nearly in the exact middle of a slot in the hospital's parking lot.

  Inside she was told that Anna had been taken for an X ray, that she hadn't regained consciousness yet, that Marian should wait for the doctor. In the waiting room she sat, because there was nothing else to do. But now, with no need to maintain a facade, she had to face her fears.

  A very long twenty minutes passed before a nurse appeared, smiling. "Mrs. Wells? Your little girl would sure like to see her mom."

  Marian shot to her feet. "She's awake?"

  "Yep."

  Marian heard Anna crying before they reached her cubicle. There, the doctor, a graying, slight man, was checking her reflexes. Anna's face was tear-stained and her nose badly needed wiping, but to Marian she was gorgeous.

  "Oh, sweetie!" She reached out and gently hugged her young daughter, closing her eyes as gratitude swept dizzyingly over her. This was all that counted. The worries that so often preoccupied her seemed petty at this moment.

  Marian gave the doctor a smile that wavered. "How is she?"

  "She's going to have a heck of a headache," he said. "She has a concussion, nothing serious, but I want to keep her here in the hospital tonight for observation. You're welcome to stay with her if you'd like."

  "Of course I will," Marian said. Poor Isaiah. She hoped he wouldn't mind accompanying a two-year-old boy to the bathroom.

  "What did she collide with?" the doctor asked.

  When Marian told him, he shook his head. "That's kids for you. My ten-year-old broke an arm just a couple of months ago, jumping out of a tree house. You know, we can't watch 'em all the time."

  "I shouldn't have let her swing without my being out there," Marian said.

  "I bet she learned her lesson. Didn't you, Anna?"

  Anna cried a little harder. Marian found a tissue on the bedside stand and wiped her tears and then her nose. "It's okay, sweetie," Marian crooned. "You're just fine. The doctor is done. Come on, pumpkin, quit crying. Does your head hurt?"

  Eventually they were moved upstairs to a regular room. In between comforting Anna with words and gently rubbing her back, Marian thought about John and about her astonishing discovery.

  Why had he gone to such trouble for her? He had already done so much, offering her and her children a job and a home. Why this extra step, which had cost him quite a lot?

  There was only one answer. He loved her, just as he'd said. Regardless of what she chose for the future, he'd sought to lift some of the burden from her, in the only way he knew she'd accept. Just as he hadn't told her that he was responsible for Mark's repentance because he hadn't wanted gratitude to hold her.

  What he had given her was the gift of independence, Marian thought wonderingly. Could there be a greater expression of love than that?

  Two hours later, Anna had been allowed to eat some Jell-O and was napping. Marian tiptoed out to call Isaiah.

  "We're getting by," he said. "Don't wony about Jesse or Emma. I'm glad about your little girl. She's a brave one. Sits that pony real well."

  Despite everything, Marian smiled. She then settled beside Anna's bed, holding her small hand, more for her own reassurance than her daughter's. Time drifted. She couldn't seem to concentrate on a magazine and mostly just sat there, letting her mind wander.

  She heard footsteps approaching, and then the nurse stuck her head around the door. "You have company," she announced brightly, and then disappeared. John took her place in the doorway.

  Marian rose to her feet. "John?" she said disbelievingly.

  "Not even tape delayed," he said, coming into the room. He took her hand in a warm clasp and looked down at the sleeping girl. "How's Anna?"

  "Fine." Marian sniffed, and John handed her a tissue from the bedside stand. She blew her nose, then smiled mistily. "Just fine. I don't know why on earth I'm crying now."

  "Because you're glad to see me?" His tone was light, his eyes grave.

  His presence had finally sunk in. "Why are you here?" she asked.

  "Didn't you expect me?"

  "No... Yes," she admitted. "I hoped. I wanted you..."

  "Mommy?" Anna's eyes opened and she repeated querulously, "Mommy?"

  "Yes, sweetheart?"

  John smiled down at Marian's daughter. With one big hand he reached out to smooth her hair back from her forehead. "How are you, little one?"

  "My head hurts," she whimpered. "Where's Emma?"

  "Home, worrying about you," John said gently.

  "I jumped," Anna said.

  "I know." His grin carved lines in his cheeks. "A little too high, from the sound of it."

  Her mouth puckered. "Emma did."

  "Yeah, but she's bigger than you."

  "Can I jump when I get big?"

  "When you get big," Marian whispered. The small hand curled around her finger and Anna's eyes sank shut.

  They stood in silence beside the bed for a moment before John said, "I guess I'd better go home and talk to Emma and Jesse. They're pretty scared."

  "I called Isaiah."

  "I know. But they didn't quite believe him."

  "Oh," she said, foolishly.

  John's hands on her shoulders turned her to face him. "I'll be back," he said. He searched her face tenderly. "Do you know I love you?"

  Marian bit her lower lip and nodded.

  "Good. We'll talk tomorrow." He dropped a whisper-soft kiss on her lips, then said huskily, "See ya."

  Marian touched her lips with her fingertips, not wanting to lose the warmth, and looked after him. In the doorway he winked, gave her a thumbs-up, then vanished.

  He was here. Joy blossomed in her chest and stole through her as she slowly sat down again. When she needed him, John had come, just as he'd promised he would. Was she strong enough to have faith that he always would?

  *****

  Marian played silly games with Anna and held her hand while the doctor checked her over one more time, then slipped away for a sandwich in the cafeteria and finally dozed off herself in the big chair beside the hospital bed as evening advanced.

  John's footsteps woke her. She glanced in confusion at her watch, to find that it was nine-thirty. He pulled the curtain around the bed to screen them from the door, then carried a chair from the other side of the room and set it beside hers. Raising his eyebrows inquiringly, he nodded at Anna, who was sound asleep.

  "She's fine," Marian said softly. "Her usual self, except for a headache. How are Emma and Jesse? You didn't have to come back."

  John lowered himself to the chair and stretched. "Isaiah kicked me out. Said if he couldn't manage two kids less than wa
ist-high, he was ready to retire."

  "Jesse didn't mind?"

  That disarming grin flashed. "Actually, I already tucked them in. Isaiah's going to sleep in your bed, so Jesse'll find somebody if he goes wandering tonight."

  "Poor Isaiah." Then, "How did you know about Jesse?"

  "I met him one night. He trundled past, carrying that disreputable rabbit, and turned right into your bedroom. I was jealous."

  Marian flushed. "You never tried."

  "Big mistake," he murmured, then took her hand. "Go back to sleep. I just wanted to keep you company."

  "Thank you," she whispered. "I felt...awfully lonely today."

  His intent gaze belied his light tone. "That's why I'm here."

  And so they sat there as the hushed hours of the night slipped past. Sometimes they whispered, sometimes they dozed. Even half sleeping, Marian was conscious of John beside her, of his long legs stretched out beside hers and the sound of his breathing, the shadow of a beard on his hard jaw, and the tenderness in his eyes when he smiled tiredly at her.

  Morning arrived with a brisk nurse who shook her head. "Didn't we offer you a bed last night?"

  Marian pushed her hair back from her face and stifled a yawn. When Anna's eyes popped open and she stared in alarm at the nurse, Marian gave her small hand a reassuring squeeze. "I didn't want her to wake up and wonder where I was."

  The nurse nodded approvingly. "That's what parents are for." She took Anna's temperature in astonishingly short order. "The doctor will be in to see her shortly, and then I'm sure you'll be able to take her home."

  Home had never sounded better. Marian longed for a bath and Jesse and breakfast, not necessarily in that order. Poor Isaiah, she thought again, then had to concentrate for a moment to remember what day this was.

  Sunday. Church and an extra fat newspaper, football and Emma's daddy coming home.

  Only...he was already home. Which meant he couldn't be on TV. Had they found a replacement for him? Would he be in trouble with the network?

  But the doctor bustled in, Anna's chart in his hand. "Would you like to go home?" he asked her, and she shyly nodded. "Well, tell you what," he said. "You let me take a last peek at your eyes and poke you a little, and I'll bet you'll find something in this pocket for you." He patted his lab coat. "What d'you say?"