by Emily March
Whoa. She sucked in a breath, wounded, and watched him walk away in stunned silence.
But as he reached for the door’s handle, she found her voice and her backbone. “You ass.”
She threw down her own napkin and rose. “How dare you? You sorry, selfish, poor-pitiful-me sonofabitch. I know you feel guilty because your players died.”
He whirled to face her. “Do not dare to—”
She cut him off with a jab of her hand. “I understand that the success you had afterward didn’t rest well on your shoulders. Probably made you feel guilty as all hell to win. I get that. It’s hard to be the one left behind, Lucca. I understand that more than you probably realize. But do you know what? You just need to get over yourself and move forward, Coach. It’s not all about you.”
He stood frozen in place, as tall and stiff as the Ponderosa pine rising from the center of the courtyard. Hope was on a roll. She stepped away from the picnic table and approached him, her chin up, and her hands braced on her hips. “You have been given so much—talent and treasure and a face and body that make a woman swoon. You’re a grand-prize winner in the genetics lottery. And what are you doing with those gifts? Nothing. It’s a disgrace. You have no purpose. You could do so much good, but instead you are working as a second-rate handyman for your mother.”
His jaw was set and as hard as the granite cliffs of Murphy Mountain, his eyes as cold as its summit in January. He was a full foot taller than she was; he loomed above her. Hope didn’t give a damn. He needed that fine ass of his kicked.
She put her palm against his chest and shoved him. “You are not the only person in the world to suffer a tragedy, Lucca Romano. Other people suffer losses. But other people can’t count on their big bank account or their large, loving family for support. Do you know what it’s like to have no one? To be totally alone? No, you don’t! You are a Romano.”
“Dammit, Hope.”
“Don’t you curse at me! Other people have suffered the worst that life can throw at them and they didn’t quit. They climbed back up on their feet and they survived and they made a freaking difference. Well, guess what, mister. You could do that, too. You should do it, too. It’s tragic that your van wrecked and your players died. It’s horrible to be the one left behind who has to try to make sense of the incomprehensible. But it happens. Life happens, and life isn’t all NCAA tournaments and roses. You need to knock off the pity party and get over yourself.”
She reached past him, yanked open the door, and sailed through it, leaving him—and her lunch remains—behind. In a blind fury, she marched down the hall and around the corner until she reached the girls’ locker room. Shoving open that door, she strode inside and kicked an open locker door shut as his words echoed through her mind. Thanks for the sandwich. And the screw.
“Thanks for nothing, lawn boy.”
She took a deep, cleansing breath, then walked to her locker and changed into her athletic clothes. She had afternoon gym classes to oversee.
Not to mention the first basketball practice of the season.
NINE
With Hope’s angry accusations ringing in his mind, Lucca exited the school, his shoulders hunched against the wind’s chill. Brittle brown leaves skittered across the sidewalk as he walked beside the playground where squealing children ran for the shelter of the school.
He’d left his truck at Aspenglow, a five-minute walk from school. Halfway there, a flurry of fat snowflakes began to swirl around him. His leather coat didn’t offer much protection from the elements. Soon he was as cold on the outside as he was inside.
His refusal to coach had definitely struck a nerve, and she’d fired back hard. Of all the lousy things she’d said, calling him a quitter rankled the most. For all his life, he’d been a competitor, never a quitter. The fact that he deserved the charge made him feel like crap. The truth really did hurt; it gave him one more reason to despise himself.
Knock off the pity party and get over yourself.
“Hell, Hope. I’m trying.”
But was he, really? Had he tried to rise out of the funk he’d fallen into? He’d come to the mountains with his tail tucked between his legs and licking his wounds. He was playing handyman/gardener for his mother, scraping paint, trimming posies, and hiding from the world and from himself. Shameful.
Upon reaching his truck, he fired up the engine, pulled out onto Aspen Street, and started driving. He took the first turn that headed out of town, a little two-lane route that climbed up past the cemetery and into the mountains to the west. With no particular destination in mind, he drove, following the road wherever it led.
As the miles passed, Lucca slowly began to relax, to warm, to chip his way through the ice that had encased him since the moment Hope had asked him to coach.
Rounding a curve, he spied a scenic overlook ahead. He turned into the parking area, killed the ignition, and slipped into a jacket he’d left in the cab. He exited his truck and walked to the wooden railing at the overlook’s edge.
The snow shower had blown over, leaving sunshine in its wake. Eternity Springs sat snuggled in the valley below, pretty as a Christmas card with a dusting of new snow. Lucca gripped the railing and stared down at the little town.
Get over yourself.
One corner of Lucca’s mouth lifted in a cheerless smirk. In the past, he’d have heard that sentiment from his family, but they tiptoed around him these days. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had put him in his place that way. Leave it to a kindergarten teacher.
She really was something. Up at dawn to drive a bus. Teaching both five-year-olds and teens. And coaching, too?
Wade Mitchell needs you.
As Lucca gazed down at the town, he spied a vehicle ascending the road he’d just traveled. Chilly day to be riding a bike, he thought, before turning his focus inward. He recognized that he stood at a crossroads. He couldn’t continue this way. He’d been playing four-corner offense for two years now. He needed to stop killing time and take his shot—or else call the game and go back to booze and beaches.
And forget all about kindergarten teachers.
His family deserved better from him. They’d been patient since he took up residence next door to Hope. Maybe too patient. They assumed that given enough time, Eternity Springs would work its magic on him and cure him of what ailed him. His brother Zach was one of the most solid, down-to-earth people he knew, and Zach honestly believed that the valley below possessed a special healing energy.
Maybe there was something to it. Despite a few curious incidents involving dirty dishes and pajama days, their mother certainly appeared to be as happy as a clam, a far cry from the sad, bereaved widow she’d been before she moved to Colorado. Gabi might not know what she wanted to do career-wise, but moving here helped her get over the lowlife she had dated in Denver.
And he … well … guess that’s what he had to decide. Was he ready to get over himself?
It had been two years since the accident. He’d spent the first year and a half suppressing his memories and shutting down his emotions, and the last six months … wallowing. On the first anniversary of the wreck, he’d phoned the Seidels and the Palmers and Brandon Gates. Two of those calls had gone well. Seth Seidel’s parents … Lucca closed his eyes. That one still ate at him.
They blamed him. They’d even threatened him with a lawsuit, though the notice he’d expected never arrived. He still heard the echoes of Seth’s father’s vitriolic accusations in his dreams. He didn’t blame the man one bit.
But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t blame himself quite as much as he used to. Was it the Eternity Springs effect? Or was it Hope Montgomery?
Get over yourself.
From the corner of his eye he saw a bird—was it a hawk?—take wing from the top of a fir tree and sail out over the valley. He watched it for long minutes as it soared and circled against the blue sky. Majestic, he thought. Powerful and free.
It dove, swooped at ground level, and rose o
nce more with what looked like a mouse wiggling in its talons.
“Okay, why do I feel like there’s a message there for me?” he muttered. A reminder that life wasn’t always pretty, perhaps? Or that death was a natural part of life?
He turned at the sound of an approaching motorcycle and recognized the bike and the rider who pulled into the overlook parking lot. Celeste Blessing killed her engine and swung her leg off her Honda Gold Wing. Removing her helmet, she tucked it into her arms and offered him a bright smile. “Well, hello, Lucca. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here. Did you come up to enjoy the first snowfall, too?”
“I was just out for a drive.”
“It’s a lovely day for it.”
“It’s bitter cold, Celeste.”
“But there’s a clear sky and the wind has died. It snowed just long enough to paint our town a heavenly white. I do adore changing seasons. That’s one of the reasons I moved to Eternity Springs. We have four distinct and lovely seasons.”
For Lucca, “changing seasons” had always meant football season into basketball season into baseball season. This was his first year for “changing seasons” to mean autumn leaves giving way to winter snowfall. Did he miss sports being the center of his life?
While he pondered that question, Celeste stood beside him and gazed down at Eternity Springs, sighing with utter contentment. “Isn’t it beautiful? Eternity Springs is such a special place; the valley has such positive energy. Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m too cold to feel much of anything.”
She laughed and patted his hand. “Of course, it’s the people who live here who make our home what it is. We’re all so glad that the Romano family is becoming part of the fabric of life in our town.”
She lifted her clear, winter blue eyes to study him. “Do you think you’ll stay with us, Lucca?”
“That’s what I’m trying to decide.” He didn’t know what it was, but something about Celeste invited confidences. “Someone told me today that I have no purpose. She’s right. It’s hard to know where I need to be if I don’t know what I need to be doing.”
“Well, you will figure it out. You do have a purpose, Lucca; it’s just changing from what it once was. I don’t want to tread where I’m not welcome, but if you’ll allow me to give you one bit of advice?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Life is not meant to be an interstate highway. It’s a winding mountain road with hills and dips, stop signs and school zones. Let friends and family be the data for your GPS satellite feed, and never forget that sometimes an unexpected detour leads to a hidden miracle.”
Lucca gave her a sidelong look. “I think I understand what you are trying to say, but I’m just a jock. Maybe you could elaborate?”
“Just a jock,” Celeste repeated, wrinkling her nose and sniffing with disdain. “And Albert Einstein was just a scientist. My point is that peace is a process, not a shot clock with seconds ticking away and a buzzer at the finish. It’s the result of many decisions, not just one. Don’t expect otherwise, and don’t fail to recognize how far you’ve risen from the depths of your despair. An American poet, John Vance Cheney, wrote ‘The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears.’ Your rainbow awaits, Lucca Romano. You can’t rush the journey, but you can lift your foot from the brake and goose the gas a little. Slow and steady wins the race.”
Lucca took a moment and allowed that to sink in. She’d said a lot in a few sentences. “You are quite a woman, Celeste.”
“I’ve been around this world a long time. I’m experienced. And speaking of experience, this afternoon I get to babysit for Sarah while she gets a haircut, so I’d best be going. I’m afraid she’ll put him down for a nap before I get there, and I’ll miss cuddle time.” She donned her helmet and fixed the chin strap. “What are your plans for the afternoon, dear?”
Lucca turned his attention back to the town nestled in the valley below and picked out the school. “I have some crow to eat. An apology to make.”
Celeste smiled and gave his arm another pat. “Both are better with a sprinkle of sugar. I’m so glad our paths happened to cross today. Safe journey, Lucca.”
“You, too, Celeste.”
The air seemed to grow colder after she left, and when the sound of her motorcycle faded, the world around him was as quiet as Lucca could ever remember—quiet, but peaceful, too, and it allowed him the perfect opportunity to think his decision through.
He definitely owed Hope an apology. He’d been an ass at lunch, and he’d deserved the arrows she’d fired his way. Hadn’t she been magnificent in her anger?
Of course, she’d been glorious in her misery, too.
What the hell had happened to Hope to put such pain and anguish in her tone? When she’d declared that other people had suffered tragedies and lived through all nine circles of hell, she hadn’t come up with those points out of the blue. She’d spoken from experience. And what about her devastation Saturday night? What had her ex-husband said in his phone call that had destroyed her so thoroughly?
“What happened to you, Hope?” A tragedy, certainly. A hellish event. Something big and dark and ugly that no one in town knew about. Otherwise, he’d have heard about it. The small-town gossip network thrived in Eternity Springs.
Spying the hawk as it took to the air once more and flew out over the valley, Lucca found his purpose. He had given Hope Montgomery escape with sex, but escape was not what she needed. It wasn’t what either of them needed. He knew that now as certain as he stood here. For the past two years, he had focused on his own heartache. Well, time to make a turn. Tragedy was no excuse for selfishness.
Get over yourself.
Well, you asked for it, teacher.
Of all the things she’d said to him at lunch, one sentiment stood out. Do you know what it’s like to have no one? To be totally alone? No, you don’t!
Unspoken were the words “I do.”
So Lucca was going to give Hope Montgomery something more valuable than escape. He had a big, broad pair of shoulders. It was time he used them for something worthwhile. Hope had friends, but she didn’t have a confidant. He could fill that role for her. He could offer her a meaningful friendship. He could offer to share her burden so that when desperate times occurred, she didn’t have to escape into sex with a near stranger. She could come to him and say “I’m hurting” and he could reply “I understand. I can help.”
Not that helping couldn’t include sex if that’s what she wanted. Hey, he had nothing against being a full-service friend. But the goal here, the purpose, would be to share her pain. To end her aloneness.
Family didn’t fix that. Sure, they loved and supported, and in doing so helped. But the whole “walk a mile in my shoes” thing had merit. No one who hasn’t lived the despair can truly understand it.
Lucca had lived it. Now he would use that experience to help Hope find not escape, but healing. And in doing so, perhaps he’d find healing himself.
Grand plans, Romano. But how are you going to go about it? You really pissed the lady off.
Okay, then. The first step definitely needed to be the apology. As he returned to his truck and took the winding road back toward town, he considered how best to do it. He could send her flowers with a sincerely worded card. Or he could show up on her front porch with flowers and hat in hand and deliver the apology in person. That might work better.
Of course, the best way to do it would be to show up at the school and do it. At basketball practice.
His stomach took a roll. His foot tapped the brakes. Was he sure about this? Or had the cold frosted his brain?
He could just let this whole idea go. He’d gone along without purpose for a while now. He could continue down that road. He didn’t need to know what her secret was. They’d had a one-night stand. He could chalk it up as a mistake and put it behind him. Then on the anniversary, he could wallow. He could be alone.
You don’t want to wallow. You don’t want to put it behind you
. You want more than a one-night stand. You want to live with purpose again. You want to do something that matters. Basketball doesn’t matter … but what you can do with basketball does.
Lucca drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It was true, and he could do this. He wanted to do this. One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. Go figure.
She would think he was doing it for the boy, and in a minor way, she’d be right. But Lucca had caught sight of a side road that interested him, and he’d decided to make a little detour.
Never forget that sometimes an unexpected detour leads to a hidden miracle, Celeste’s voice echoed.
Lucca carefully, cautiously, gave the gas pedal a goose and headed toward Hope.
“I’m sorry to flake out on you, but I can’t help with your basketball team today, after all,” Gabi Romano told Hope when she called shortly before practice. “I had an unexpected trip come up. I’ll be gone for two and a half weeks.”
“Oh, really? Where are you going?”
Gabi told her about a wealthy couple from Tulsa who owned a vacation house in the mountains west of Eternity Springs. “They adore me because back before I left the sheriff’s department, their beloved Precious escaped the vacation house and got lost in the woods and I found her. Now the Thurstons need someone to dog-sit while they travel with another couple. They gave me my choice of their beachfront villa in south Florida or the mountain mansion an hour out of Eternity Springs. It was a tough choice, but I chose white sand and a turquoise sea. And they’re paying me more than I made at the sheriff’s department.”
“They don’t have a second dog that needs sitting, do they? I wouldn’t mind an hour commute from a mountain mansion.”
“Sorry, Hope. I do feel bad about leaving you in the lurch this way. But it’s only a couple of weeks, and you’ll still have Zach’s help. He said he’d pitch in whenever he could manage, and this isn’t usually a busy time of year for him.” Gabi let out a sigh, then added, “I wish I could suggest you talk to Lucca, too, but I honestly think it would be a waste of breath.”