Miracle Road es-7

by Emily March

  Hope’s only response to that was a flat “Hmmm.”

  The two women spoke a few more minutes, then Hope bade Gabi bon voyage and ended the call. She wished the timing had been better for her players, but she couldn’t blame Gabi for taking advantage of such a great opportunity. A beach sounded lovely, too. Maybe during semester break, she could take a little beach vacation herself.

  A glance at the clock showed her that she was five minutes late for practice. She grabbed her clipboard and exited the athletic office with a smile pasted on her lips. She was determined to convince her team that all was not lost simply because she was their coach.

  She heard the multiple thump thump thumps of basketballs against the hardwood along with a number of clangs as balls hit the rim. Taking it as a good sign that the team had started without her, Hope’s fake smile warmed to genuine. But when she stepped into the gym, she stopped abruptly.

  Lucca Romano stood on the court directing her players in a drill. She couldn’t have been more shocked if LeBron James had suddenly appeared in the school gym. Her players looked as if they’d died and gone to heaven. Lucca had a “tense, but holding on” look about him. Spying Hope, he nodded. “Hello, Coach Montgomery.”

  Questions spun through her mind. Why was he here? Was this a one-time thing? Or was he going to serve his volunteer pledge this way? Was there any chance at all that he’d take over the team completely?

  Hope knew, however, that this was not the time for questions, so she swallowed hard, then cautiously said, “Coach Romano. Is there … ah … what can I do to help?”

  He put her to work as his secretary, taking notes as he dictated. He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard as he evaluated the players’ strengths and weaknesses. He kept his comments businesslike, and when he finished the evaluation, he suggested that she take a seat. “I know you’ve been working nonstop since before dawn. I can take it from here.”

  She studied him, unable to read his expression. She was tired—exhausted, to be honest—so she did as he suggested. As she watched him spend time with each boy individually, offering instructions and critiques, it occurred to her that he had avoided looking directly at her since she walked into the gym. She couldn’t read him. What was he thinking? Why was he here? Had his brother or his sister called and chewed him out? Or had her own lecture pounded its way through his cranky skull?

  That possibility made her smile.

  Lucca worked with the team, as a team, until five minutes to five when he spoke to Hope for the first time in half an hour. “Are you scheduled to end at five?”

  “Actually, it was four-thirty.” Hope wondered if anyone else noticed the way he seemed to sag in relief just a little.

  “Hit the showers, men.”

  With that, the cloud of awe that had surrounded the team dispersed, and the boys broke out in excited chatter. Soon, only Lucca and Hope remained in the gym. As she fumbled around for something to say to him, she had a memory flash of the school’s former coach, Frank Gowdy, standing beneath the basket. He’d been a lovable, balding teddy bear with a beer belly and a constant smile. The contrast with Lucca Romano couldn’t be bigger.

  He looked handsome and hard and just a little bit angry. Gazing at him, her knees went weak.

  He dribbled the basketball then passed it to her. “You have a mess on your hands with this team.”

  She bounced the ball twice, then threw it back. “They’re enthusiastic.”

  “True.” He turned and took a shot at the basket. Nothing but net. Hope jogged to retrieve it, then sent it back to Lucca. “The Mitchell kid. He’s raw, but he has something to work with.”

  “Yes.” Hope drew in a bracing breath, then cut to the heart of the matter. “Will you work with him? Will you help us, Lucca?”

  Rather than respond, he took the ball up the court to the opposite basket and put up a jump shot. Hope’s heart sank. After watching him with the boys, seeing how he’d related to them, she’d had her hopes up that this was more than a onetime deal.

  Lucca took two more shots at the basket, then captured the ball and tucked it beneath his arm. When he met her gaze, his own was steady and sincere. “I need to grovel for a minute or two, Hope. I want to apologize for my remark at lunch. I felt cornered by your request, so I struck out at you. That’s not an excuse, but an explanation. I’m very sorry I said what I did. It was crude, and I was an ass. Honestly, Saturday night was just about as nice a thing that’s happened to me in ages.”

  Once again, Hope was flabbergasted. She did not, however, want to discuss Saturday night, so she simply said, “Apology accepted.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. So, do you have something else you need to do here, or are you done for tonight?”

  “I’m done. Finally. It’s been a long day.”

  “Seems to me like we’re the last people in the building.”

  “I’m sure the janitor is still here,” Hope replied, eyeing the trash can at the entrance to the gym. “He starts to work in the kindergarten wing, then works his way around here.”

  Lucca set the basketball in the ball rack. “I stuck a six-pack in the fridge in the athletic office. Why don’t you have one with me? We probably need to talk about this whole coaching thing going forward.”

  “A six-pack?” Hope repeated, pulling up short. “As in beer? You brought beer onto a school campus? You can’t bring beer onto campus. You absolutely can’t drink beer on campus.”

  “Sure I can. I don’t do this very often, but today I’m pulling the Coach Romano card. I coached practice this afternoon. I get to have a beer. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen to me? The powers that be can forbid me from ever coming back? Guess they could try to have me arrested, but the sheriff would simply sit down and have a brew with me.”

  Hope didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, but she wasn’t going to admit it. She understood that he had faced down a demon today, but honestly. Some things just weren’t done.

  She followed him to the athletic office but shook her head when he pulled a beer from the dorm-sized fridge and held it up to her. “Tea?” he asked. “Water?”

  “Water.”

  He handed over a bottle, then sprawled on the brown microfiber sofa that Coach Gowdy had left behind when he quit his job. Hope perched in the armchair beside the office door and sipped her water while Lucca took a long pull from his beer bottle. “Just promise me that if anyone walks in here, you’ll hide that?” she asked. “Please?”

  “Not much of a rule breaker, are you, teacher?” he asked, grinning.

  She sniffed. I slept with you, didn’t I? You don’t think that’s breaking the rules? “That depends on the rule.”

  He stretched his leg to kick a large cardboard box filled with T-shirts over in front of him to serve as an ottoman, then he propped up his legs on the box and crossed his feet at his ankles. He sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face. “Am I glad that is over. I took a drive earlier this afternoon and ended up at a lookout above town. Celeste Blessing stopped while I was there. She’s an interesting woman. Gave me the strangest advice—that somehow made a lot of sense to me. When I left the overlook, I knew I needed to make this practice today.”

  “Because of something Celeste told you?”

  “That, and I figured a bouquet of flowers just wasn’t a good enough apology considering the scope of my jerkhood at lunch today.” He took another sip of beer, then rested his head back against the sofa and shut his eyes. “Celeste says that peace is a process, that finding it is the result of a bunch of little decisions rather than one big one. I think that maybe you are part of those decisions, Hope. I was lost in this funk when you knocked on my door Saturday night, and today at lunch your request sent me right back into the weeds. I know you know about the wreck that killed two of my players and put another in a wheelchair. I’d like to tell you the rest of it. Will you listen?”

  Though she really, truly didn’t want to discuss Saturday night, it sounded l
ike he wanted to open up. Based on things that Gabi and Maggie had said, she knew he never opened up. The fact that he’d do it with her surprised her and, frankly, made her wary. She sensed that something more was going on here than what she understood. Nevertheless, she couldn’t say no. “Yes, I’ll listen.”

  “Good. You might have to be a little patient. I don’t know how fast I’m going to be able to get this out.”

  Compassion filled her. This obviously wasn’t going to be easy for him. “I have nowhere else I need to be.”

  He held his beer bottle with both hands propped on his belly. He stared down at the scuffed toes of his wellworn sneakers. “What I need to say … well … I’ve never said the words aloud. Admitting it makes me feel like a pansy-ass loser.”

  He exhaled a heavy breath and flatly admitted, “Last spring, I had a good old-fashioned mental breakdown.”

  Hope waited, watching him, feeling for him. He looked just miserable. “Oh, Lucca. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to say any—”

  “I do. Just let me get it out.” He darted a quick glance her way, then refocused on his feet. “I’ve always been known for keeping a cool head. On the court. In life. But that day something … I don’t know. Something inside of me just snapped. I can’t explain why. I don’t have a clue what triggered it. I just … went off. Went nuclear. It was ugly. I threw things. I broke things. I scared everyone around me. When I stormed out of the field house that day, I swore I’d never set foot in a gym again. Honestly, I didn’t think I could. Just thinking about it made me break out in a sweat.”

  “It was because of the accident,” Hope suggested. “A delayed reaction.”

  “Not only the accident, but what came afterward—the professional success. I felt like such a fraud. What sort of a man capitalizes on death? It disgusted me.”

  He unfolded from the sofa and stood and began to pace. “I couldn’t deal with that, Hope. I tried to ignore it. I tried to deny it. I tried every mental exercise I could come up with. Eventually, it destroyed me. At least, that’s what I believed last spring.”

  “But you don’t believe it anymore?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say that ever since I let my siblings hitch me up to their tow truck and drag me to Eternity Springs, well … I’ve been learning to deal. Celeste talked to me about the GPS of life and stop signs and school zones and detours. I’m not certain I understand everything she tried to tell me, but I will say this. I sort of like this road I’ve been on for the past couple of months. Sure, it’s bumpy and potholed in places, but”—he shot her a quick little grin—“I especially enjoyed the picnic area.”

  Forget Celeste. Hope wasn’t certain she understood Lucca. Was he, by chance, referring to Saturday night? Was he comparing her to a picnic?

  What in the world had happened to him between lunch and after-school practice?

  “So, that’s basically my story. I hope it’s helped you understand what’s been making me tick. I don’t claim to be healed or fixed or even better than I was this morning, but I’m going to try to get there. I am definitely on the road to recovery. As, I think, are you. I think if we share our company, it might make our journeys go quicker.”

  Suspiciously, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “When you knocked on my door on Saturday night, I had just finished watching the first basketball game I’d seen since last spring and drinking too much of a bottle of scotch, so I wasn’t thinking as quickly or clearly. I am now. Today at lunch you said some things … about tragedy …”

  Hope closed her eyes.

  “And about moving on. It’s obvious that you’ve had some experience. So tell me about it, honey. What tragic thing happened to you?”

  TEN

  Lucca watched Hope go stiff and maybe a little pale. He said no more, deciding to wait her out. He put the odds that she’d actually spill her beans today at less than fifty-fifty and that was okay. He had time.

  He propped one hip on the corner of the desktop, snagged his beer off the top of the cardboard box where he’d left it, and took a sip, keeping his gaze on her.

  Finally, she said sharply, “What is this? I showed you mine so you show me yours?”

  “I care, Hope.” He spoke the truth. He cared more about this woman than he’d cared about anyone in a very long time. “I can help.”

  Her eyes flashed with loathing. “Not a chance.”

  “Maybe I can’t fix whatever it is and make it go away, but I can be your friend.”

  Still resisting, she lifted her chin. “I never said I’d suffered a tragedy.”

  He chided her with a look.

  Hope closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers. Her voice tight, she said, “I don’t talk about it, Lucca. I don’t talk about it to anyone, not even any of my friends in Eternity Springs. No one. I just … can’t.”

  He studied her, noting the lines of stress on her brow and around her eyes. “In my experience, keeping the bad stuff bottled up inside can lead to trouble. That said, I don’t want to cause you more pain. We don’t have to drive the speed limit on this road. We can take our time. I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready to share.” He polished off his beer and tossed it into the garbage can. “Ready to head home? Do you have your car or did you walk?”

  She blinked. “I walked.”

  “Me, too. I hope you have a coat with you. It got cold this afternoon. Even snowed a little.”

  She stared up at him in wary surprise. “That’s it? You’re just going to drop it?”

  “Don’t you want me to?”

  “Yes. But … I expected you to push harder.”

  He shook his head. “My family pushed. I didn’t like it.”

  “I pushed you today.”

  “You did, but the timing was right for me, and you were the right person doing the pushing. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to know what happened, but it needs to be when you’re ready. I respect your privacy, Hope. I respect your wounds.” He gestured for her to precede him from the athletic office. “Where’s your stuff?”

  “In the girls’ locker room.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside the locker room door and we can walk home together. If I have any luck at all, we might need to huddle together against the cold.”

  He grabbed his own coat from the bleachers where he’d tossed it upon his arrival, then took up position in the hall across from the locker room doors. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, and considered the afternoon.

  It could have gone better, but it could have been much worse, too. Once he’d decided that he owed her not only a practice, but an explanation, too, he’d approached the school like a gallows.

  But he’d managed. Gym stench hadn’t made him puke, and his headache hadn’t lasted past the first half hour of practice. When that short redheaded kid hit four out of five consecutive free throws and his face lit up like a scoreboard, Lucca had known a moment of joy reminiscent of what he’d felt when the Ravens punched their ticket to the Dance. Maybe Celeste knew what she was talking about. The GPS of life. I’ll be damned.

  He wished Hope had been able to open up, but he’d meant what he’d said. It would come in time. For the next few minutes, a Bible scripture played through his mind. To everything there is a season. Then, the Byrds began to sing. Turn turn turn. How many times had he heard that song while growing up? His mother had loved that CD.

  From his memories of his mom dancing to 1960s music in her kitchen, his thoughts drifted to backyard hoops, and then to the rancher’s son. Like the coach of old, Lucca spent a few minutes reassessing the young man’s strengths and weaknesses. Wade Mitchell would need some real competition to hone his skills. Wonder if they played any tournaments? All the coaching and clinics in the world wouldn’t substitute for game time. He’d have to ask Hope.

  Hope. Where was she? He glanced at the hall clock. She’d had plenty of time to grab her coat. Hell, she’d had enough time to shower, dress, and dry her hair by now. Had she ditch
ed him?

  No. He didn’t think so. Had something gone wrong? He knocked on the locker room door. “Hope?”

  When he didn’t hear anything, he cracked the door open and called her name again. Still nothing but the echo of his voice.

  “Man in the locker room,” he called out, stepping inside. He found her sitting on a bench past the third row of lockers, a single tear trailing slowly down her face. “Hope? Honey? What’s wrong?”

  “She’s still missing, Lucca. My little girl. My Holly.”

  In my Fort Lauderdale condo, I hang up the telephone filled with despair. What am I going to do now? It’s too late to find another babysitter. If I miss my cut-and-color appointment with Stephan again, he won’t book me anymore. I don’t trust anyone else with the task of turning my naturally red hair into the blonde that Mark loves.

  I have roots. I saw Mark frowning at them yesterday. We have dinner with the law firm’s partners and their wives on Friday. Leave it to my loving mother-in-law to cancel her promise to babysit at the last minute and make my life hell. Leave it to Millicent to do every possible passive-aggressive thing she can think of to interfere in my marriage.

  I should have seen this coming. If Mark makes partner, there’s a good chance we’ll move to the West Coast office. Millicent won’t have that. I should have suspected that she’d do something like this when she offered to babysit. Textbook Mommy Dearest. She’ll get her way no matter what. She always has.

  For a fleeting second, I consider taking Holly with me. Of course, that won’t solve anything. Stephan doesn’t allow children in his salon.

  I glance at the clock. My stomach churns. If I don’t leave in the next twenty minutes, I won’t make it. I need this appointment. My marriage needs this appointment. I finally lost those seven pounds I put on over the winter and I bought a new dress and I want to wow Mark. I haven’t wowed him in a very long time.