Lizzie grunted. “I could care less if he minds or not. I mean, it’s his prerogative. What do I care?”
She knew by the way her friend cocked her head back and propped a fisted hand on her hip that she wasn’t very convincing. Grace patted her shoulder as she edged closer to the stairs leading down from the stadium. “Come on, Bean, let’s get out of here. There’s supposed to be a post-game party at Moe’s to celebrate.”
Lizzie bent to retie one of the shoelaces on her tennis shoes. “That’s okay, Carrot. Go on without me. I’m really tired from all the work they’ve been giving me at the hospital. You know- changing bed pans and all as the freshman attending. I’m just going to sit here for a few more minutes then call it a night.”
By the way she opened her mouth and paused Lizzie felt certain she must have something to say, but instead Grace said, “Okay, sweetie. Good night then.”
“Good night.”
Lizzie sank, bone weary, onto the bleachers and watched as the last few straggling fans gathered their belongings and headed out of Dixie’s stadium. When she and the janitors sweeping the popcorn out of the stands were the only ones remaining, she leaned back so her head was resting on the cold metal bench behind her. The night sky was clear, but the field lights blocked out her view of the stars. The long sleeved Dixie Football t-shirt she’d purchased from the booster club wasn’t cutting the bite in the crisp fall air so she pulled her blue jean jacket tighter around her to fight off the chill.
It was sad, she realized, that she didn’t know anymore who or what it was that she wanted to be. A doctor- she knew that. Even before all the kids in school had taunted her about being the teacher’s pet she’d known that she wanted to be a doctor. But this was the first time in weeks that she’d actually had time to sit still long enough to wonder who she wanted to be. Her father told her a long time ago that it wasn’t just your profession that made you who you were. It was everything you did. Where you lived, what you did in your spare time, and most importantly who you did it with.
The night smelled like rain, and she felt certain when she woke tomorrow morning it would be pouring outside. She could still make out the scent of pizza and coke from the concession stand, and the always present scents from the memories in her past.
Those scents were home to her. This place, this stadium, was home to her. The town and all its oddly quirky people were home to her. DixieAcademy, the old Baptist church, the bank her father practically ran on his own. They were all home to her.
She knew then that who she really was involved this town, and she wondered what her life would be like if her father hadn’t dragged her and her family kicking and screaming to this charming little place.
Lizzie closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the men pushing their big push brooms over the course concrete sooth her. She might not have all the questions about her life answered but at least she knew one thing for sure. Whoever it was that she was supposed to be, it revolved around this town.
From somewhere below her she could hear the sound of heavy, masculine steps coming nearer. For an instant she hoped it was Payton, but she knew it wasn’t. It didn’t have that distinctive all confidence pattern that was so distinctly him.
Lizzie turned her head and watched as an old, battered pair of hiking boots with the lips hidden under frayed blue jeans came closer. She followed the legs up until she was staring, upside down, at Colin looking down at her. His face looked funny from that position, and she grinned up at him when he playfully stuck his tongue out at her.
“Hey, Doc. What’cha doin’ out here all alone? Don’t you know the party’s supposed to be out at Moe’s?” He sat on the bench by her head and looked over at her as she shifted and moved to sit next to him.
“Yeah, I heard. I thought about going, but…” she glanced up at him, “well, to be honest, I didn’t really feel up to watching those two going at it in the middle of the bar.”
Colin propped his hand on his knee and cupped his chin in his palm. “I can see what you mean. The post-game show was about all that I could stomach myself.” Lizzie smiled at the concern she saw in his eyes. She made a show of studying her hands.
“Can I ask you a question, Col?”
“Anything.” Lizzie looked out over the empty football field and Colin followed her gaze.
“What does he see in her?”
At first she thought he wouldn’t answer, but eventually he looked back at her with a little frown of concentration edging his lips. “You know, Lizzie, sometimes things aren’t exactly what they seem to be.”
“Jeez, you can say that again. I mean, you’d think Lou Ann was a washed up old house wife from the way she looks, but apparently she is one hot piece of ass under the sheets with the way Payton works her over.”
Colin laughed and elbowed her. “That’s funny, but not what I meant.” He studied his hands before continuing. “I watched him tonight during the game. He was the portrait of concentration out there on that field. I mean, I didn’t see him look up here one time from about middle of the third quarter on.”
Lizzie grunted. “I noticed.”
“But I bet you didn’t notice the other thing I did.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“I must have counted at least twenty-three times that he looked up to where we were standing from five minutes before the game started until just before you walked past him on your way up into the stands.” Colin stood and squeezed her reassuringly on the shoulder before he headed back down the row. “And Lizzie…” He waited until she looked up at him again. “I think it would be an insult to your intelligence if I have to spell out to you what that means.”
Lizzie watched him walk down the stadium stairs. He didn’t turn back around but she heard him call back, “You should think about coming to that party, Lizzie. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
She waved him goodnight. “Thanks, Coli-pooh. I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Thirty-one
More than anything, Lizzie desperately wished she was sinking three inches deep into her new pillow-top mattress right about now. That wasn’t the case, however. She’d pulled a U-ey on her way through town and was almost in sight of Moe’s Pub before she fully grasped what she was doing.
Hiding from Payton might be the most comfortable plan at the moment, but in the long run she’d only end up kicking herself for it. Lizzie thought about what Grace would do in a situation like this, and that’s when she’d realized what she needed to do.
It was time for a good ole fashioned come to Jesus meeting with the coach.
A saucy little flame red number would have been the perfect attire for this event, but she settled for her low rise blue jeans, cowboy boots, and the booster club shirt she’d worn to the game. As she pushed open the bar door, a mental image flashed in her head of her karate kicking it open instead. A woman on a mission, she wasted no time in small talk. Rather, she skimmed the swarm of Dixie Devils celebrators until she found her mark.
He was in one of the back corner booths laughing at something Bud said while he poured another frosty mug full of beer for himself and Colin. Oddly enough, Lou Ann was nowhere to be seen. He looked up as she approached them, and his smile fell from his face.
“Evenin’ boys,” Lizzie said to the table in general. Then with a flick of her eyes she settled in on Payton and didn’t let up. “I believe you and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Is that right?” He tried his best at a slow, seductive perusal of her body, but Lizzie wasn’t in the mood to take the bait.
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Move it, coach.”
A local band that was currently playing a cover tune of Rascal Flatts’ blared over the speakers so loudly that Lizzie wondered if she’d be able to talk over the noise. The only way that was going to happen was if she drug Payton out of the bar, or if she danced close enough to him that she could yell into his ear. A little devil tapped her on the shoulder- it was time for a l
ittle dirty dancing.
She edged in close enough to him that she could feel his breath warm the skin of her neck. “Funny, I don’t see Lou Ann anywhere.”
It was barely enough to be noticeable, but Lizzie felt him tense all the same. “She’s, uh, sick. She had to go home right after the game.”
“She looked fine to me earlier.” Payton looked sort of funny.
“It’s one of those fast-acting bugs. Comes on real quick.”
“Hmm, that’s terrible. You might need to be careful since you’re well, you know, and all with her. I could check you over if you need me to.” She raised a hand. “Strictly professional, of course. I am an official doctor now.”
Payton seemed to be recovering from his tenseness. “That’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m tough.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” His eyes, slightly darkened by the dim lighting, caught hold of hers and held. That quick flash of electricity followed by a slow curl of heat crawled through her like it had always done when they were younger. For an instant she wanted to lock onto him right there in the middle of the dance floor and do to him what she’d been watching Lou Ann do for days now. She held his gaze a second longer before turning from him and heading to the bar.
“Better be careful, coach. Lou Ann has a real mean streak when she thinks things aren’t going her way.”
He followed her to the bar and signaled for Moe to put her drink on his tab. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. I think I can take care of my own.”
She waved him off. “That whole tough thing again?”
“Something like that.” He sipped from a long neck bottle. “I thought you said we had some things to discuss.”
She sipped her drink trying to stall for another few seconds. “Doesn’t it bother you that you wrote me that gut-wrenching letter and now you’re… whatever with her?” She tried her best to hide the spurt of jealousy that kept wanting to rear its ugly head, but Payton’s mouth twitched at the corner and she suspected he’d seen the ugly monster before she’d beaten it back down again.
“Should it?” He brushed his arm against hers as he picked at the bowl of peanuts in front of them.
“No, not at all.” Lizzie reminded herself that she’d come knowing she was going to have to play a little hardball. So here she went. She reached out and laid a cool hand on his cheek, turning his head so he looked straight into her eyes.
“It’s not working.”
He swallowed and she knew then that she had him. “What’s not?”
“This thing you’re doing. You know, the thing where you conveniently show up all over town with Lou Ann just when I happen to be at the same place.”
He tried his best to change the subject by slowly looking her over with that bone melting stare he had mastered. “Have I told you lately that you look really good without that ridiculous engagement ring that Josh gave you?”
“No, you haven’t, but thanks. And, Payton? It’s still not working. I think I’ve grown up enough now, and I might just be ready to talk. So when you get tired of playing your cat and mouse games…you know where to find me.”
She stood from the bar, but leaned in and whispered into his ear before she left, “By the way, those white tulips on my doorstep were a pretty nice touch. Thanks.”
Lizzie stood in the dark by her bedside window staring out into the night. She’d let her hair down from the ponytail she’d worn to the game, and brushed it out so it hung in long, silky waves down past her shoulders. For Christmas her sister had given her a warm pair of flannel pajama pants that she wore religiously. Tonight she had coupled them with an old, old t-shirt that she only permitted herself to wear on occasion. It was one of Payton’s light grey high school practice shirts with a big red devil standing in the middle. The same one he’d been wearing the first time they had made love.
When she heard the knock sound on her front door she assumed it was Grace stopping by to talk. Lizzie whipped open the door and nearly dropped dead when she found Payton standing on the other side rather than Grace.
Lizzie’s eyes grew about five sizes too big for her head, but she thought she did a remarkably good job of hiding any other signs of surprise at his presence. She leaned against the door jamb, an obvious sign that she wished he would bugger off. Lizzie’s heart was pounding in her ears as he stood not more than a foot from her, slowly assaulting her body with his eyes. As he made his way from her painted red toenails, past her pants and on to her shirt she could feel her face flame with embarrassment. For all he knew she had burned that shirt the night he’d ripped out her heart. It was humiliating that she not only still possessed it, but that she still wore it.
He didn’t seem concerned about the shirt, though. He was studying her still, and then she realized he’d noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. It had been more than eleven years since he had touched her there, but her traitor body took her flying back to those aching moments, and her nipples beaded under his sight. Quickly she folded her arms over the shirt, but it was too late to hide the evidence of her arousal.
She compensated by acting as snotty as possible. “It’s late, Payton. What do you want?”
“I changed my mind. You might need to check me over after all.”
“Feeling bad already? Maybe that should be your punishment for such improper PDA in front of all those impressionable football players.”
He grunted. “Impressionable, my ass. They could probably give me pointers more than I could them.”
She clucked her tongue. “Ah, the curse of the aged.” She stepped aside. “Well, come on in. Let me go get my stuff.”
Lizzie returned a few minutes later with a hefty black medical bag in her hand and a white jacket over his old t-shirt. Her father had given her the black bag as a present when she graduated, and she thought it was a nice touch, a nod to the practitioner’s of the past. She led him to the kitchen and put the bag on top of the table.
“Want something to drink? This could take a little while. Some orange juice would probably do you good anyway.”
“Sure, I guess.”
She poured them both a glass and set his in front of him before she began to rifle through the contents of the bag. “Normally I wouldn’t do house calls, so you’re lucky I’m feeling particularly benevolent tonight.”
“I understand. Thanks for letting me put you out like this.” He stared straight ahead as she looked at his eyes through the scope. She switched tips to the instrument and studied the inside of his ears.
“So far so good, now I just need to check your throat. Open wide and say, ‘Ahhh’.” He did as she asked. Lizzie frowned.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“No, not particularly. It’s just that… well, have you always had that giant red bump on the back of your throat?”
Payton looked a little queasy. “I don’t know. I don’t normally look back there.”
“What about those lymph glands, are they always that big?”
“Beats me.”
“Have you always had a heart murmur?”
“I-I guess.” He ran his finger around the rim of his shirt. She studied him quietly for a moment. “Hmmm, are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed. I think you might have a fever.”
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure that I don’t have a fever.”
“Hmm.” Lizzie walked out of the room scratching her head, mumbling something about being right back.
Payton wondered what she was up to. He felt perfectly fine. He knew as well as she did that he’d just made up that story so he could get inside her house. It would be just like her to come up with some hair brained story that he was dying of some stupid illness like purple spotted horseshoe fever just to pay him back for all the games he’d played on her lately.
She returned a minute later carrying a medical dictionary. “What are you looking up?” He asked, studying her critically.
“Give me a
minute. I’m working on something here.” She looked him over again, tapped his knee to test his reflexes, took his temperature, and finished off by listening to his heart and lungs.
He grinned. “So, I check out okay, then?” Lizzie sipped her orange juice, sat down, giving him a grave look.
“I’m not so sure, Payton. I thought you were joking back there at the bar, but I think you really might be sick.”
“What? I’m not sick. I haven’t been sick in eight years. I’m solid as a rock.”
“You know what they say: the stronger they are the harder they fall. I mean, really, your symptoms don’t look so good at all.” She looked grave. “We might need to get to get you to the hospital for further tests.” Suddenly he felt hot and cold at the same time, and now that she mentioned it, he had felt a little funny all day long.
“What! No, absolutely not.”
“Let me ask you this.” She leaned in and whispered across the table. “You failed the VonWilliker’s response test. Did you realize that?”
“I haven’t even ever heard of that test before. How would I know if I failed it?”
“Well, unfortunately for you, it’s a big problem if you fail it. It means your nervous system is in critical range of failing. We really don’t have much time. Go ahead and climb in my car, and I’ll call the hospital and tell them we’re coming in.”
He studied her across the table and thought about calling her a big fat liar, but then he remembered she was the one with the medical degree and he didn’t even know what the VonWilliker’s reponse test was, much more what it meant if he failed it, so he finally relented. “Oh- Okay, Liz. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
“Good. I’ll be right out.” She waited until he reached the front door before saying, “Oh, and Payton? Make sure you cover your face with this blanket. It’s only a matter of minutes before even the slightest amount of light will burn your retinas and blind you for life.” She chucked the blanket at him and he heard something suspiciously similar to a giggle as he closed the front door behind him.
The Heart Will Lead You Home Page 34