Last Chance Hero

by Cathleen Armstrong

  As she pulled up to the town’s one blinking stoplight, she saw Andy Ryan’s pickup approach the intersection from across the street. She returned his wave and made her turn. If he were on his way home, he ought to be right behind her. A quick glance in her rearview mirror confirmed that, and she smiled. She was even more pleased when she pulled into her driveway and he stopped at the curb.

  “Hi there. It’s been awhile. How are you?” Jess got out of her car and walked to the truck where Andy leaned across the seat to smile at her through the passenger window.

  “Doing great. Busy.” He had the nicest smile. “How about you? Still getting those runs in?”

  “Oh, yes. Every morning. Then I walk awhile with Elizabeth Cooley. She’s amazing.”

  “Oh, everybody knows that Elizabeth’s amazing. She gives Last Chance bragging rights. Right up there with the chile and the Dip ’n’ Dine.”

  “And, of course, the football team.” Jess had meant to sound supportive, but she noticed Andy’s smile dimmed just a little as he nodded.

  “Yep. There’s the football team.”

  “Why don’t you come in? We’ll dig around and find something to eat.” Jess had no idea what was in her kitchen. Certainly whatever they found would bear no resemblance to the feast they had shared at Elizabeth’s, but she was pretty sure she could scare something up.

  “Nah, I should get on home.” Andy leaned back behind the wheel. “Looks like you’ve had a long day. You probably want to just kick off your shoes and relax.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. But I don’t see any reason why that means you can’t come in. I’m not planning on cooking a big meal, if that’s what you’re worried about, but we should be able to find something to eat while we talk.”

  “Peanut butter?”

  “Ew. No. Sorry, not peanut butter.”

  Andy opened his door. “Then I’m your man.”

  Jess cocked an eyebrow as Andy joined her on the sidewalk. “That’s your criterion? No peanut butter? Are you allergic?”

  “Getting that way.” Andy followed her down the walk and into the house. He shoved both hands in his pockets and looked around. “Wow. It’s been over ten years since I’ve been here. Brings back a lot of memories.”

  Jess had already kicked off her shoes at the door and was heading for the kitchen. She stuck her head back around the corner. “When were you here?”

  “Back when I was growing up, Rita and her family were still living here and I knew both her sons. I played football with them, as a matter of fact.” Andy followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb as Jess rummaged around in the refrigerator. “As you can imagine, Rita was involved in every aspect of the boys’ lives. Den mother when we were little, Booster president when we started playing sports. And every Tuesday night, all through junior high and high school, she had the whole youth group from church over for supper and Bible study. I’ll bet she made enough spaghetti sauce over the years to float a battleship.”

  “Sounds like Rita.” Jess put some eggs and cheese on the counter and went back to the refrigerator. “I knew the house was hers, of course. I’m renting from her. But I guess I just assumed she’d always been mayor and ran the motel.”

  “No, she didn’t run for mayor until the kids left home.” Andy shifted positions and folded his arms over his chest. “And then when her husband Mike died, she bought the motel. I guess it just got too quiet for her here.”

  “I can understand that. I feel more alive when I’m around people too. I couldn’t stand it if all of a sudden I had nothing to do.” Setting a tomato and a few mushrooms on the counter next to the eggs and cheese, Jess let the refrigerator door swing shut. “Omelets okay?”

  “Omelets sound great.” Andy pushed away from the doorjamb and joined Jess at the counter. “What can I do?”

  “Here. You can grate some cheese.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out the grater. “I’ll make some decaf coffee.”

  As he went to work on the chunk of cheese, Jess glanced up at him. How had she not noticed how tall he was? And how had she not noticed how broad his shoulders were and that his hands were so big that the block of cheese he held all but disappeared? Yep, he was a specimen, all right.

  He glanced over and caught her looking. “What?”

  Jess laughed. “You. Remember the morning I first met you at the Dip ’n’ Dine? Before Rita even brought me over to introduce me to you, she told me what a football hero you were. And of course, that’s pretty much all I’ve heard about you ever since, but this is the first time I’ve noticed how well you fit the image. I’ll bet if I look in the dictionary under ‘jock,’ I’ll find your picture. Do you have to carry a club to keep the girls at bay?”

  “Nope. I just stiff-arm them. Football training can come in handy.” Andy went back to his cheese grater, but his smile had disappeared.

  “Okay, what’d I say wrong?” Jess folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Girls don’t come after you in droves? What?”

  Andy finished his task and dropped the grater in the sink. “I guess I’ve just never liked the term ‘jock.’ It’s a label—like all labels, I guess—that dismisses anything else I am. Plus, it trivializes the work and drive and even pain that go into playing the best game I can play.” His half smile was a little rueful. “Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I realized. Didn’t mean to get all bristly.”

  Jess was silent a minute. “You know, I get it, and I’m sorry. It’s the same with ‘geek.’ Growing up, I certainly had all the qualifications, and it was never meant as an insult, at least not by anyone whose opinion I cared anything about, but it does trivialize your accomplishments, doesn’t it? I mean, of course I took all that math and science; that’s what geeks take. Of course I had a 4.4 GPA; geeks are smart. Well, let me tell you that none of that was handed to me on a platter. I had to work and work hard for it.”

  Andy just looked at her. “You had a 4.4? Wow, you are a geek. I didn’t even know GPAs went that high.”

  Grabbing an oven mitt from the counter, Jess took a swipe at him. “Just go sit down and let me make these omelets.”

  Andy swung a chair around and straddled it while Jess cracked eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork. He didn’t say anything, but she felt his gaze. When she slid the last omelet onto a plate and turned around, he was resting his chin on hands he had folded on the back of the chair.

  She smiled as she set the plates on the table and went for the coffeepot. “Tired, or just lost in thought?”

  “Both, I guess.” He got up and pulled Jess’s chair out before turning his own around to face the table. “Mostly just thinking.”

  No one but headwaiters had ever pulled out her chair, and if her earlier attempts at teasing him hadn’t fallen flat, she might have told him so. Instead, she just smiled her thanks and sat down.

  “Care to share any of those deep thoughts?” She filled their cups and picked up her fork.

  Andy appeared to be waiting for something, but after a second or two, he picked up his own fork. “Nothing deep. Just being here in the Sandovals’ house got me thinking about all those kids I grew up with. We’d sit around here on Tuesday nights and talk about what we were going to do with our lives. It just never occurred to any of us that we might fail.”

  “Fail?”

  “Well, maybe not fail, but hardly any of us are living the lives we thought we would.”

  “What did you think you would do?”

  His grin looked a little sheepish. “Well, I wanted to play football, of course—college, even the NFL, and then coach.”

  “And isn’t that exactly what you did? I mean, to the letter?”

  “Yeah, I guess, but with a couple exceptions. I didn’t think I’d be coaching high school football, and I got here about ten years ahead of schedule.”

  “Why’s that?” Jess regretted the question as soon as it left her lips, but she could never seem to learn to be anything but direct.


  Andy held her gaze a long moment before looking down and pushing a bite of omelet around his plate with his fork. When he looked up, all traces of a smile had left his face.

  “I wasn’t good enough.”

  “Now, I may not know anything about football, but I know that’s not true.” Jess was back on solid ground. Helping folks stay positive was part of her training, as well as who she was. “It may have felt that way, but Rita showed me that scrapbook she kept. I just saw the headlines, of course, but it was pretty clear that you were good.”

  “Ah, Rita.” Andy’s grin was back, even if it was a little lopsided. “She’s a one-woman cheer squad.”

  “Maybe so, but she didn’t write those articles; she just clipped them. So what happened? What brought you back to Last Chance? Unless it’s something you don’t want to talk about.”

  “No, it’s pretty much common knowledge. I was backup quarterback for the Broncos for about five seasons. Seemed like a lot of that time was spent recovering from injuries that I got when I did get some playing time. Then, when it looked like I was going to get my shot at quarterback, they brought in someone else. And behind me was another hotshot quarterback they had just drafted. I saw the writing on the wall. It wasn’t going to happen for me, and since I didn’t want to spend the next who-knows-how-many seasons freezing on the bench watching other men play, I retired. If you can call it retiring.”

  Silence fell in the little kitchen as Andy turned his attention to his omelet. After a few seconds, Jess reached across the table and put her hand on his arm.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out like you wanted it to. That had to have been rough. But don’t forget, the people around here know football, and they watched everything you described unfold. If all I had to listen to was you, I’d think yours was a sad and sorry tale, but everybody in town can relate every detail of your career, and you’re still the biggest hero in town.”

  “Well, their outlook may be just a little limited, not to mention biased.” Andy’s grin was back.

  “I think you’re underestimating both the town and yourself.” Jess threw her napkin next to her plate and pushed her chair back. “Now, I think I still have some cherry vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Want some?”

  7

  Hi, I’ll bet you’re Emma.” Jess smiled at the little girl sitting on the examination table before turning to extend a hand to the woman sitting on a chair next to her. “Good morning. I’m Dr. MacLeod. And why are we seeing Emma this morning?”

  “Where’s Dr. Benavides?” The handshake Mrs. Anderson offered was listless and brief, and she didn’t return Jess’s smile.

  “He’s on vacation and I’m seeing his patients while he’s gone.” Jess glanced down at Emma’s file. “But if it’s important that you see him, I imagine you can reschedule your appointment. He’ll be back next week.”

  Mrs. Anderson huffed a little and resettled her purse on her lap. “No. We’re already here, and I had to rearrange my schedule and drive in from Last Chance. But I wish they had told me Dr. Benavides wasn’t going to be here when I made the appointment. It was only for her checkup. I could easily have waited.”

  “You live in Last Chance?” Jess held her stethoscope between her hands to warm it. “I just moved there myself. In fact, I’ll be keeping office hours there a few days a week.”

  “Oh, I know who you are.” Mrs. Anderson had a smile of sorts pasted on her face, but she still did not sound very happy. “I’m sure some people will really appreciate the convenience, but when it comes to Emma’s health, convenience is the last thing I worry about. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Okay, let’s see how far you can stick out your tongue.” Jess decided to let Mrs. Anderson’s comments pass and concentrate on her patient. “Come on. Pretend I’m that rotten boy who sits behind you in school.”

  Emma actually smiled for the first time since Jess had walked in the room, but when her mother cleared her throat, the smile faded and her tongue retreated.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Mrs. Anderson’s laugh was light and brittle. “You don’t need to pretend that to stick out your tongue, Emma. Just say ‘ahh’ for Dr. MacLeod, like you do for Dr. Benavides.”

  “Ahh.” Emma promptly obeyed.

  A vague uneasiness came over Jess as she completed her examination, and she found herself checking for telltale marks or bumps. Emma had yet to say one word, despite the questions and comments Jess directed to her personally. Mrs. Anderson, however, did not stop talking.

  “You know, I’m afraid I might have given you the wrong impression earlier. It’s not that I think Dr. Benavides is more competent than you are. That’s not why I’m willing to drive to San Ramon when you’ll be right there in town. That’s not it at all. It’s just that Dr. Benavides has been our family doctor for years. He’s looked after Emma since she was a baby.” She laughed lightly. “I hope you understand it’s nothing personal.”

  Right. Jess continued her examination without answering. Nothing personal.

  “Well, Emma, how much time do you spend outside?” Jess stood back and smiled at the little girl huddled on the examination table. Emma didn’t even open her mouth.

  “Oh, if only she had that kind of time.” There was that laugh again. “With her piano practice, and her schoolwork, and her chores, there just aren’t enough daylight hours.”

  “Do you like recess?” Jess was determined to get Emma to say something.

  Emma shrugged, and her mother answered the question. “They have to force her outside. She’d like nothing more than to be left alone indoors with a book.”

  “What about friends, Emma? Do you like to play with your friends?”

  This time there was no laughter from the chair behind Jess. “My goodness. I thought we were just coming in for a simple checkup. Dr. Benavides never asks these kinds of questions. Is there some reason why you are concerned, Dr. MacLeod? Or are we finished here?”

  With a final wink at Emma, Jess turned back to her mother. “We’re done. Except that the flu vaccination came in this week. We could give Emma her flu shot now, or you could wait till Dr. Benavides gets back, if you’d rather.”

  Mrs. Anderson hesitated a long moment before she sighed. “Oh well, we’re already here. We might as well get it taken care of now.”

  Jess had been watching Emma. She had yet to meet an eight-year-old who didn’t need at least a little calming at the mention of a shot, but except for a slight flicker of her eyes, Emma was as unmoved as if she had not even heard. There had been no marks or any sign whatsoever of physical abuse on Emma’s body, but something was not right, and when Dr. Benavides got back, Jess intended to see if he had any idea what that might be.

  “Are you going to the game Friday?”

  “Hmm?” Jess looked up from the mug of thick, overbrewed coffee she was staring into. The morning had been packed, but she still couldn’t get Emma Anderson off her mind. “What game?”

  “The season opener between Last Chance and San Ramon. What else?” The young nurse shut the door of the cabinet she had been restocking and cocked her head as she turned to stare at Jess. “It’s only the biggest rivalry in this part of the state. It was San Ramon that broke Last Chance’s big winning streak, you know.”

  From Theresa’s satisfied smile, Jess had little doubt on which side of the rivalry Theresa stood. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Friday night I’m going to be home in my sweats with my book and a big mug of herbal tea. It’s been a long week, and I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Seriously? You’d miss the game?”

  “Seriously. I am going to miss the game. But you go on and cheer for the both of us.” Jess took a sip of her coffee and shuddered as she dumped it in the sink. “Who makes this stuff, and does anyone actually drink it?”

  Theresa seemed to be too stunned by Jess’s complete disregard of Friday’s game to even register the coffee comment.

  “But you know that Andy Ryan has come back t
o coach Last Chance, right?”

  “So I’ve heard.” Jess opened the cupboard over the sink and poked through the contents. “Isn’t there anything but coffee here? No tea?”

  “And you live in Last Chance and everything?”

  “Yep.” Jess pulled out a box of instant cocoa packets, made a face, and put it back.

  Theresa shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s your choice, but you’ll be the only one in town who won’t be at the game. Have fun with your book.”

  The smile she tossed Jess’s way as she left the room was one Jess knew well. It was the easy, breezy, not-quite-dismissive smile the cheerleader tossed the book-laden geek as they passed in the hall. It had never bothered her in high school. She had a wide circle of friends and a ton of activities of her own, and frankly, she had never felt the slightest desire to be a cheerleader. But she was pretty much on her own here.

  Maybe she should reconsider. After all, what would it take? Just two or three hours of her life, that’s all. Two or three hours sitting on a cold bleacher among a lot of people she didn’t know who were screaming about something she didn’t understand while watching a bunch of bulked-up boys knock each other down.

  Nope, not happening. She rinsed out her mug and set it on the drain board. Never in her life had the need for peer acceptance driven her to conform, and she couldn’t muster up even a twinge now. Friday night with her book was looking better and better.

  By Friday, not only Theresa but nearly everyone Jess came in contact with was talking about the game. As she left San Ramon and headed down the Last Chance Highway toward home, the pickups with “Skin the Pumas” daubed on the back window with white shoe polish gave way to those adorned with “Beat San Ramon” signs. Even the front window of the Dip ’n’ Dine had a snarling puma and the words “Go Last Chance High” stenciled across the glass just under the glowing neon Open sign.