Leaving Oxford

by Janet W. Ferguson

  After the service, Bryan caught them in the hall. “I’m glad you came today, Coach.” He took Sarah Beth’s hand when she extended it and spun her around in a little twirl.

  “That’s quite a greeting.” Sarah Beth blinked back her surprise.

  Squelching a twinge of jealousy, Jess leaned close as they walked away. “Told you so.”

  Church hadn’t been so bad. He’d actually enjoyed it.

  ~~~

  The sunlit afternoon held little humidity and a cool breeze, the kind of day to be savored in Mississippi. Camilla begged for Katie to come play at her house, so Sarah Beth phoned Nick for permission. A minute later Katie headed home with Kim, Chris, and Camilla.

  As Sarah Beth and Jess ambled toward her SUV, Dean Latham rushed over. “Sarah Beth, I see you have a guest, and we’d love for you both to have lunch with us. It’s your favorite. Pot roast.”

  She looked to Jess and lifted her eyebrows.

  “There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal.” Jess shrugged.

  “We’ll see you in a few minutes. Sarah Beth knows how to get there.” The small, yet sturdy balding man grinned and scurried away.

  How precious the dean and Mrs. Latham were to her. She pointed at the couple’s car before easing out of the lot. “Dean Latham and his wife sort of adopted Mark and me after Gram died. He was one of my professors and a friend of the family. He sent my graduate work to Bill Rogers, his old fraternity brother. Bill hired me that year, and he’s still my boss in L.A. Basically, Dean Latham jumpstarted my career. And they’re kind enough to invite me to dinner at least once a week.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Jess counted on his fingers. “You eat with Dean Latham for Sunday lunch and maybe another evening, and then Tuesday nights and Saturday nights you eat with Chris and the CSU students? Seems like you don’t worry about what’s for dinner very often.”

  “That’s a good thing. Evidently, I have a cooking impairment.”

  “I heard. Chris said I was lucky I survived the coffee you made at the CSU.”

  “He may be right. I hired a cleaning service in December, and the woman they sent actually told me that I should never try to use the oven again.”

  “Was it black from smoke?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Did Chris tell you everything?”

  Howling, Jess slapped his leg. “I was joking, but apparently your impairment is worse than I imagined.”

  “I get ideas, go to work on them, and forget about the stove. Speaking of food—here we are.” She pulled to a stop in front of the stately, red brick home with white columns.

  The savory smell of pot roast met them halfway down the sidewalk. Inside, Mrs. Latham, wearing the blue-and-white checked apron she’d worn every Sunday for as long as Sarah Beth could remember, led them to the dining room where Dean Latham waited.

  Maybe she should’ve bowed out before Jess could accept the offer. Would he think she was introducing him to her family? A knot caught in her throat. She sort of was, but it hadn’t been her idea.

  Sunday china and cloth napkins lay waiting. This table held memories. She and Mark had eaten here many times over the years. Another bittersweet memory.

  After a short prayer of thanks, the bowls of homegrown vegetables circulated along with the pot roast. A few bites later, Sarah Beth’s worry dissolved as the conversation flowed easily. She savored the squash casserole and lima beans. Delicious. Why couldn’t she cook like this? Maybe it was a blessing she couldn’t. She’d be big as a house as much as she liked to eat.

  After he’d cleaned his plate, Jess leaned back in his chair and grinned. “That was spectacular, Mrs. Latham. Thank you so much.”

  The compliment brought a bright smile to their hostess’s face. “We have cobbler for dessert. With ice cream or without?”

  “With,” Jess and Sarah Beth answered in unison.

  After a second helping of the fruit topped with crusty pastry, Sarah Beth pulled herself away from the table. Jess shook hands with Dean Latham then hugged Mrs. Latham. “Thanks again.”

  “You come back any time.” Mrs. Latham beamed. “And please call me Barbara.”

  As they drove away, Sarah Beth shot him a side glance. “You won her over.”

  “I have my ways.” His brown eyes crinkled into a smile, and a grin filled his voice. “Want to call Sam and hit the water? The day’s still young.”

  “We don’t get many days like this. My work can wait, I guess.”

  “Atta girl. I noticed you have a hitch on your SUV. Do you want to pull the boat?”

  The simple question jerked her breath away. The shaking hands again. She mashed the words out. “You drive.”

  “Good. It looks like Office Depot threw up in your back seat.”

  His playful insult loosened some of the fear tormenting her. “Hey. That’s like my third office. I have to carry stuff back and forth all the time.”

  “We could call Sam and let him off the sidelines.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Unless you want to wait until Nick can go.”

  “Sam’s fine.”

  Thirty minutes later, they hit the lake. The water felt right. Sarah Beth sailed through the rest of the afternoon. No accidents, no worries, no anxiety. Only waves and sun.

  Sam behaved himself pretty well, too. For Sam. At the end of the afternoon, they packed up and dropped him at his house first.

  Sarah Beth sucked in a deep breath. Thank you, God, for a normal day.

  Then Jess pulled up to her place, got out, and escorted her to the front door. “Can you talk a while?”

  The question ricocheted around her mind. “Sure, but I need to let the dog out.” And gather my wits before I share more about my life.

  “I’ll wait.” He took a seat in one of the rocking chairs on the porch.

  When she returned, Gingie followed on her heels to the adjacent rocker.

  Jess’s eyes widened. “That dog has grown. It’s huge.”

  “I know. The vet says Gingie might have some Saint Bernard along with the Chow/Basset Hound thing. She was thrown by the growth spurt, too.”

  “So, we’re calling her Gingie now?” A laugh bubbled from Jess.

  “Yeah. Katie had a point about Ewok. I might feel weird hollering that name down the street or at the park.”

  He bent down to scratch around Gingie’s collar. “Do you feel like starting, you know...where we left off?”

  Sarah Beth leaned back in the chair. “I left off when Gram died. I began questioning my faith for the first time. Not only was I angry with God, I wondered about things. Is there really a heaven? Is this all there is? When Mom and Dad died in the fire, there was only a memorial. It was as if they just disappeared. We were with Gram when she passed. It seemed wrong to leave her with strangers and bury her in the ground. Her body was there, but where was she?” Sarah Beth paused and raised her hand to her forehead, running her fingers through her hair. The first time she shared all of her past would be the hardest.

  “I know I mentioned that I’d started partying. I was lonely. I met a guy. Adam. A month later, I basically moved in with him, although I still owned Gram’s house. He was a senior pre-med major, and I was finishing my MBA.

  “He was accepted to medical school in L.A, and I had a job offer with a company there, as well. Adam said he didn’t think we had to get married to prove our love. His parents had lived in a loveless marriage, so for him, marriage meant nothing. They were together only because they didn’t want to divide their wealth. He said he didn’t want money to be what held us together.

  “We were both passionate about our careers. Adam focused on his goal to get his medical degree, specialize in infectious disease, and secure sponsors for a clinic in Honduras. Since his parents spent little time with him, Alma, his housekeeper, and her son, Miguel, were more like family than his own parents. When Miguel and Alma traveled back home to Honduras one summer, Miguel contracted dengue fever. He didn’t recover. Miguel’s death drove Adam to study infectious dis
ease—to look for a cure.”

  The rapid pounding in her pulse forced Sarah Beth to stop for a deep breath.

  The rocking chair creaked under Jess’s weight as he bent forward from the waist and rested his elbows on his knees. “Sounds like a productive way to deal with the loss.” His gaze still locked onto hers, waiting for the rest.

  “I loved his passion for his cause. I helped plan a fact-finding trip to a successful health clinic in Guatemala.

  “As the years passed, Adam and I lived together, but we rarely saw each other. I felt Adam didn’t love me anymore, at least not enough to commit to me. I realized I’d made a mistake.”

  The beginning of the end of this story. Sarah Beth swallowed at the bitter taste in her mouth and rubbed her palms together.

  “I went to see Adam’s chief, Dr. Rodriguez, at the hospital. We’d worked together on the fact-finding mission, and we had a good rapport. Dr. Rodriguez welcomed me into his office, and we talked about the project and plans for the upcoming visit to the medical facility in Guatemala. Before I left, I asked Dr. Rodriguez if something was wrong with Adam—I felt some underlying tension and distance I couldn’t pin down. He mentioned Adam had a new research assistant.

  “It had been so long since I’d visited Adam at work, I almost got lost on the way. As I neared his department, I saw him talking at a young woman’s desk. His manner was carefree and charming. He smiled at her as she talked. I felt sick to my stomach looking at them, but it was too late to turn around. Adam saw me standing there.”

  ~~~

  The ringing of Jess’s cell phone broke into Sarah Beth’s story. Cringing, he checked the number. One of the players. “Sorry, I need to answer this.” He stood and walked to the edge of the porch. “Yeah.”

  Loud music and voices met Jess’s ear.

  “Coach, Cole’s drunk and about to punch out some fraternity dude.”

  Not again. “Where?”

  “Same as last time.”

  “I’ll be right over.” Could the timing be worse? But he couldn’t let his star quarterback end up in jail. He returned to Sarah Beth. “I’m sorry. I hate to do this, but I’ve got a drunk and belligerent quarterback over on the Square causing a commotion. I need to corral him back to his apartment to sober up.”

  “Duty calls.” She waved him off. “I totally understand.”

  Letting out a sigh, he pulled his keys from his pocket, and jogged to his truck. It was always something. He punched the accelerator the few blocks to town and pulled up on the sidewalk. He never got a ticket. Police knew his truck and were all too happy for him to take care of these things before they got out of hand.

  The crowd in the dimly-lit bar divided like the Red Sea. Football players on one side. Everyone else on the other. Grant Vaughn held Cole back, his massive arms caging the tall blond quarterback. “Not happening, Cole. We’ll all pay for your—”

  “I got this, Grant.” Jess stood beside his players, hands by his side, feet planted. “Cole, my truck. Now. The rest of the team, home.”

  He gave them an icy stare. The players filed out, Cole last, jaw locked.

  Once they cleared the door, Jess opened his hand. “Keys.”

  Cole complied. “Coach, I didn’t—”

  “We’ll talk back at your place.”

  The smell of smoke and liquor filled the truck as Jess drove Cole to his apartment complex. This had to stop. He got that Cole wanted to have a good time, but things were out of hand. The fighting and binge drinking were not okay.

  Jess parked and followed Cole down the sidewalk. After unlocking the door, Jess held onto Cole’s keys. “Let’s sit on the balcony. You have anything to drink that’s hydrating?”

  Cole opened the refrigerator and pulled out a six-pack of sports drinks. “This work?”

  “Bring it.” Jess opened the sliding glass door and sat in one of the two navy Adirondack chairs. “Are you smoking now? You reek.”

  Cole sank into the other chair and guzzled the liquid. “No. I was sitting in a car with a girl I met. She was smoking. We had some beer and...you know, hooked up. We went back in the bar and this guy gets in my face saying I messed with his girlfriend.”

  Jess studied Cole. He didn’t see any sign the kid was lying. Cole was known to be a player—one girl after another.

  “Coach, I wasn’t looking for a fight. I was out to have a good time. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  Jess stretched his arms in front of him then let them fall back to the armrests. He’d made his share of mistakes back in the day. Not so much with the drinking, though. “You don’t have to look for trouble. It’ll find you. What do you think you should do when that happens?”

  “You told me last time. I should turn around and leave.” Clenching his fists, he sat up and scooted to the edge of the chair. “I get so ticked with the guys out there looking to fight the quarterback. Like they want to prove themselves. Then there’s the others that want to act like you’re their best bud—buying you drinks and stuff. But they don’t know you. Not really.”

  Jess nodded. “I’ve been there. But it’s up to you to be smart. You wouldn’t be a quarterback if you didn’t have something up there.” He flicked Cole’s head. “You know that, right?”

  Cole bent forward, elbows on his knees, face resting in his hands. “I’m not so sure.”

  Placing a hand on his back, Jess tried to assure him. “I’m positive. I’ve seen you in action.”

  Cole’s chin lifted. “Positive?”

  “Positive.”

  “Thanks for helping me out of that mess.”

  Jess stood. “I’m keeping your keys. We’ll get your car back to you later—after you’ve had time to sober up.”

  “Thanks.”

  All the drama with college players didn’t bother him that much. He enjoyed getting to know the guys, counseling them. But tonight, he’d had to leave Sarah Beth in the middle of their conversation. Terrible timing.

  What would it be like in the pros? Would it be about molding the players, or more about profits and bottom line? Was that what he really wanted?

  Chapter 19

  Two years earlier.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t mention this.” Jill threw a tabloid on Sarah Beth’s desk and stared at her, hands on hips. “Talk to me.”

  “I have no idea what you’re going on about.” Sarah Beth scrutinized the paper in front of her. A notoriously underhanded tabloid headlined with a picture of Dylan Conner and a ‘mystery woman in blue.’ The dark-haired woman’s face couldn’t be seen from the photo’s angle, but the image clearly displayed Dylan’s famous green eyes gazing at the woman. Jill must’ve recognized her dress. But would anyone else? This couldn’t come at a worse time. “That area was supposed to be camera-free—secure.” She waved her hands around. “Nothing happened, so there’s nothing to tell. We were just chatting. Oh, and he offered to sell me his condo in Malibu. I’m supposed to call him.”

  “He gave you his phone number?” Jill shrieked. “He’s so hot.”

  Another reason not to call the actor about his condo—crazed women might show up thinking he still lived there. “I’m not interested in Dylan Conner. The only reason I’d call him is to discuss a possible purchase. I have no idea what I’m doing in my life right now.” Slumping forward, she let her head fall into her hands and massaged her forehead. “I’m confused about...everything.”

  “I’ve been there.” Jill squeezed Sarah Beth’s shoulder. “Sorry I upset you. I’m probably the only one that’ll recognize you in the photo. I’ll be at my desk if you want to talk.”

  “I appreciate it. Better throw myself into this latest project.” She folded the paper shut with a slap. “And throw this in the trash.”

  Should she tell Adam or hope he didn’t by some weird chance see the paper and recognize her? The odds of him looking at one of those covers in a grocery store were slim. And they had enough to figure out already.

  An hour later, Jill called into
Sarah Beth’s office, her voice strained. “You have a visitor.” She cleared her throat. “A Mr. Dylan Conner.”

  Sarah Beth’s chest tightened. What now?

  “Sarah Beth?”

  Was Jill joking? “Send him in, thank you.”

  Still speculating whether Jill was teasing her, she slathered on lip balm and shuffled stacks of papers to the corner of her desk. The door opened, and the auburn-haired actor with sparkling green eyes strolled into the office.

  He surveyed the myriad of ads and awards lining the back wall. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

  Sarah Beth stood and extended a hand. “I’d say that your office is where the magic happens. What brings me the honor of this personal visit?”

  “Can we talk?” Dylan squeezed her fingers and nodded toward the sitting area near the windows. “Incredible view you have.”

  “Thanks. Have a seat.” She plopped into the club chair to the left of him and waited.

  “I want to apologize for getting you sucked into the paparazzi vortex.” He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. “I’m not sure how someone managed it, but at least your face wasn’t in the picture. Did your significant other see it? What was his name?”

  Her hand slipped out from under his. “It’s not your fault. You must get tired of dealing with never having any privacy.” She paused and looked out the window. “Maybe I should close the blinds.”

  “That’s not necessary unless—” Raising his eyebrows, he gave her a carnal look.

  “No. Not necessary.” Biting back a sigh, she stood to lead him out. “Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate it, but everything’s fine.”

  “Sarah Beth?” Confusion crinkled his brows together.

  “Yes?” Why was he still sitting in the chair?

  “You do like men, right?”

  What an ego. “Dylan, I’ve been with someone, a man, for years. He’s a doctor at the university. I mentioned the other night that I’m trying to come to terms with God and what that means to my relationship with Adam.”