Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Let’s take Blitz.”

  “Sure, babe. Anything you want,” she said.

  Buddy’s heart swelled. Their breakfast was interrupted by his cell.

  “Hi, Ma. I’m fine. Really. You didn’t have to come back from your trip just for me.” He winked at Emmy. “I’ve got someone taking care of me. Emmy, that’s who. Yeah. She’s here until Friday. So, you could’ve stayed with Aunt Martha.”

  Emmy cupped his scruffy cheek with her palm.

  “Yeah, Ma. You can take over when she leaves. Love you too.” He hung up the phone. “My mother wants me to give you a big hug from her.”

  “She was away?”

  “Visiting her sister.”

  “Bet she almost had a heart attack when she found out.”

  “She called the locker room. Spoke with Coach Bass. He calmed her down.”

  Emmy smiled. “Your mom’s the greatest. You’re so lucky.”

  “I am. She’s the best. And she likes you a lot.”

  Emmy blushed, adding a becoming shade of pink to her already pretty face. “She’s got good taste. I always liked her. Loved being at your house for holidays.”

  “Those were good times.”

  They finished eating. Emmy cleared away the dishes then got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Buddy too. She plucked the harness and leash off the hook by the door and called to the pug. The footballer grabbed a bottle of water and his sweatshirt then followed her out to the car. The air was cool. The sky was clear, bright, and sunny. Buddy donned sunglasses.

  “Good. They said a lot of sun in your eyes wasn’t good.”

  “I’m set. You?”

  She pulled out a pair of purple and green sunglasses, glamorous beyond belief.

  “Wow! You’re gorgeous.”

  Emmy rolled down her window halfway, put the vehicle in gear, and pulled out of the driveway. The dog curled up on the back seat and was snoring before she reached the end of the street.

  They drove in an easy silence, taking in the scenery. The sharp reds and oranges of the maples and other trees contrasted beautifully with rich, gold leaves. On the way back, he started to get a small headache, but nothing serious.

  “Maybe it’s caffeine withdrawal.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Or the concussion.”

  “Could be. Can we have company?”

  “For dinner? We have that huge lasagna Gert made. Like who?”

  “Griff and Lauren?”

  “Sure. The article I read said you couldn’t go out and socialize, but didn’t say you couldn’t do it in your own house.”

  They returned, and Buddy called Griff. When he hung up, Emmy shooed him off to bed for a nap. He didn’t resist, as he was tired and a bit concerned to feel fatigued after so little activity. He stretched out. Hovering between awake and asleep, he felt a blanket touching his shoulders and a small hand stroke his neck once. Emmy. He thought of her as he drifted off.

  Chapter Nine

  Accustomed to being on time for practice every day, Griff got his family to Buddy’s house at six on the dot. Their baby was fussing softly as they entered.

  “He’s hungry,” Lauren said. “Would you mind my feeding him here? In the bedroom maybe?”

  “Sure, sure.” Buddy moved out of her way.

  “Are you breastfeeding?” Emmy asked, eyes wide.

  Lauren blushed slightly and nodded.

  “Can I watch? Is that rude?” Emmy laughed and colored a bit.

  “Not at all. Come on.” Lauren led the way.

  Buddy padded barefooted into the kitchen. “Beer?”

  “Sure.”

  “I can’t drink,” Buddy said, tossing a bottle to Griff and popping open a chocolate milk for himself.

  “How are you feeling?” Griff leaned against the wall and took a long swallow.

  “I’m okay. Are they okay? Do they need anything?” Buddy glanced toward the bedroom.

  “Lauren usually gets thirsty when she…ah…does that. So, she might need water when she’s done.”

  “Do you watch?” Buddy lifted the drink to his lips.

  “Yeah. It’s cool.”

  “Is it sexy? Or shouldn’t I ask that?”

  “That’s okay. No, it isn’t. Funny. Never thought Lauren’s rack wouldn’t be sexy, but when Hank’s suckin’ on them, they’re not.”

  “Hank?” Buddy made his way to the living room and sat down on the couch.

  “Lauren insisted on calling him Marcus Henry Montgomery. So, I call him Hank.” Griff grinned.

  “Thank God!” Buddy chuckled. “I can’t imagine Emmy’s chest not being…well, you said it. Are they sexy again, uh, later?”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Griff snickered, lowering his lanky body into a comfortable side chair.

  “How’s being a dad?”

  “Amazing. I mean, I had practice, but not with babies. Babies are a whole different story. Lauren and I are on equal footing with Hank.”

  “Does he cry a lot, keep you up?”

  “Nope. He cries some. But Lauren takes good care of him. So, when he needs something, she’s there.”

  “What about when she’s not home?”

  “Then, I pitch in.”

  “You know what to do?”

  “You read the baby books. Then, you figure it out. Hey, the kid’s not asking for the keys to the car.” Griff took another long swallow.

  “I guess not. Still. Seems kinda scary to me.”

  “How can a guy like you be scared of a baby?”

  Buddy raised his eyebrows. “Weren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little…intimidated. ’Cause I didn’t know him.”

  “And now you do?”

  “You get to know his rhythm. Kind of like with you. I know where you’re gonna be when I throw the ball. I know which way you’re gonna cut.”

  “But a baby. It’s different man. What if you drop him?”

  “Drop him? Buddy, you can hold onto a wet football and run for a touchdown. You’re not gonna drop a baby.” Griff put his bottle down and stared at his friend. “Is Emmy pregnant?”

  “Emmy? No, no. Not that I know of. No. Absolutely not.” The wide receiver shook his head.

  “Don’t get so scared. Worse things have happened. You’d be a good father.” Griff slapped him on the back.

  “I don’t think so,” Buddy said. “I travel. I’m not patient. I have a bad temper.”

  “You’ll get over those things. When the time comes, I know you’ll step up.”

  “Do you like it, him? Is Lauren happy?”

  “Are you kidding? She’s fuckin’nuts over him. Didn’t think she’d ever have a kid. Me too. Hank’s just what I wanted.”

  Buddy pushed to his feet and moved toward the window. Blitz followed.

  “How’s the head?” Griff was right behind him.

  “Okay, I guess. Memory comes and goes sometimes. I feel…different.”

  “How so?”

  “Not different in a big way. Just off. A little. Like my mind or my timing or something.” Buddy’s chest tightened, and his voice quivered.

  Griff put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I can play again. If I can be as good again. I’m not the same.”

  “Sure you are. Just takes time to heal.”

  Buddy turned to face the quarterback. “You ever have a concussion?”

  “Who hasn’t? I had one in college.”

  “You did?”

  Griff nodded. “It took me a couple of weeks to bounce back. But I did.”

  “You were a lot younger than I am.”

  “Not that much. Maybe seven years?”

  “Yeah. Seven. I don’t know. What if I can’t play again? It’s all I know. I’ve been playing since I was eight. Football is all I want to do. I’ll die if I can’t play football again.” Buddy’s voice shook.

  “You need to relax. Getting yourself worked up isn’t going to help your recovery.
You know the protocol. You’ve got to have faith, Buddy. Guys get concussions and come back all the time.”

  Buddy let out a breath. “You’re right. They do. It’s just very important to me. It’s my life.”

  “Maybe you’d better make room in your life for a wife and kid.”

  “Maybe. Now that I’ve found Emmy.”

  “She’s something else.”

  “I know. And don’t you be lookin’ at her like that. I know that look.” Buddy shook his finger in Griff’s face.

  He laughed. “I’ve got all the woman I can handle.”

  “Who’s all the woman you can handle?” Lauren joined them with the baby asleep on her shoulder.

  “She let me hold him and burp him, Buddy,” Emmy said, her eyes dancing. “He’s so cute.”

  “Come on, Buddy. You take him,” Griff prodded.

  “Naw. He’s sleeping. Besides, if I drop him…”

  “You won’t drop him,” Lauren assured. “Come on. Sit on the sofa. I’ll put him in your lap.”

  Buddy sat down, and Lauren placed the baby in his arms. The wide receiver grinned, his eyes darting from Lauren to Emmy to Griff. “Geez. The kid’s a regular heat machine.”

  “I know,” Griff said.

  Blitz wandered over cautiously. He bent over Buddy’s lap and sniffed Hank’s head then retreated.

  “He looks good on you,” Emmy teased.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Buddy said, his eyes full of mischief.

  “Maybe it’s already too late, Mr. Smarty Pants.”

  Buddy’s smile froze. “You’re not. Are you?”

  Emmy laughed. “No, but I had you going.”

  “Crap! Almost gave me a heart attack. I don’t think that’s part of the concussion protocol, is it, Griff? Scaring me to death?”

  Emmy smiled back at him, but there was something different in her eyes, something new, a sparkle, a suggestion. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but he liked it. A kid with Emmy. Sitting with little Hank snoozing in his lap, the idea didn’t seem so farfetched.

  “Time to eat. The lasagna should be hot, and the salad’s in the fridge. Let’s go,” Emmy said.

  Lauren and Griff set up a portable, soft-sided crib on the floor. Griff picked up the baby and gently laid him down, covering him from his armpits down in a white blanket while Lauren watched. The infant looked even smaller in the quarterback’s big hands. The pug trotted over, sniffed Hank again, and then curled up next to the crib. The tall man leaned over and kissed the baby’s forehead then stood up.

  “Is it okay if the dog sleeps so close to Hank?” Emmy asked.

  “Sure. Dogs are protective of babies. Blitz looks to be pretty gentle. Right, Lauren?” Griff turned to his wife for confirmation.

  She nodded. “It’s fine.”

  “I’m starved. Lasagna, huh? Sounds great.” Griff took Lauren’s hand.

  The foursome went to the dining room, where Emmy had already set the table. She let Buddy take the big dish out of the oven and carry it in. Calm washed over him. As he looked at his friends eating and talking together, he was reminded of evenings when his parents had had company for dinner.

  Entertaining was so mature, so grown up. When had Buddy arrived at that point? He had no idea, but a child and a permanent woman piqued his interest. Time to move to the next level? Maybe.

  First, he had to get back full use of his memory and his body. He had to return to being Buddy Carruthers, star wide receiver, before he could take on any other roles. He gulped at the uncertainty of how long that would take, and if Emmy would still be around.

  * * * *

  The lasagna was delicious. Emmy hadn’t had a home cooked meal in such a long time, she couldn’t remember exactly when. She’d beg Stash to stop at local diners, because the food was more like home-made than the stuff they got in chain restaurants. Now, she savored every bite, rolling it around in her mouth to taste every spice, every cheese. Buddy’s got it made. With Gert to cook and clean and a girl to sleep with, he’ll never get married.

  She straightened up in her chair. The others looked at her. Who said anything about marriage? I have a career. No marriage for me. Besides. Husband’s leave or die. I like my life. Still, the image of Hank’s little face and his big brown eyes, younger versions of Griff’s, looking her over gave Emmy goose bumps.

  Having the warm, sweet child on her shoulder as she sang softly to him warmed her heart. Instead of being scared, she’d been comfortable and hated to give him back to his mother.

  She’d have to choose between motherhood and her career. No way could she continue to travel from concert to concert if she had a baby. It would break her heart to leave the little one behind.

  She turned her attention to her food. Buddy’s hand squeezed hers. When she looked up, she spied his loving smile. Emmy turned her gaze on Griff and Lauren. “Does the baby keep you up nights?”

  “Nah. Lauren handles the middle of the night stuff.”

  “Oh? What about your career? You were working before the baby, right?” Emmy put a forkful of lasagna in her mouth.

  “I was…am an interior decorator,” Lauren confirmed.

  “Do you miss working?”

  “Not really. I mean I’m working probably harder now than I was then. But I’m doing something much more important. Raising our child.”

  “She’s not doing it alone. I’m there. When I’m not at practice, a game, or on the road, I take over sometimes. I can’t feed him yet, but when he’s eating real food, I will. I love kids.”

  Emmy nodded. That’s it. Raise a kid or be a rock star. Can’t do both.

  When they finished eating, the men cleared the table.

  Emmy knitted her brows as she looked at Buddy. “Can you do that?”

  “Hell yeah. It’s easy. I’m fine, Emmy. Don’t worry.” He patted her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

  The clinking of the plates and the voices seemed to wake Hank, who cried with gusto.

  “Kid’s got great lungs,” Buddy murmured.

  Griff raised his hand to Lauren. “I’ve got this,” he said.

  She sank back into her chair, a grateful smile curling her lips. The quarterback headed for the living room. He scooped up the small bundle in his large hands. When he made eye contact with the infant, the youngster immediately quieted down as he studied his father’s face. Emmy and Buddy crept softly into the room to watch Griff shoulder the little guy, resting his tiny face on a clean, cloth diaper, as the big man’s deep voice sang a tune.

  Emmy wondered if the child felt the vibrations in his father’s chest and if that soothed him. She bit her lip and blinked rapidly. I’m not the sentimental type. Emotion flowed through her, gathering in her neck, closing off words. Griff stroked the baby’s back with long fingers before returning him to the make-shift bassinet.

  “Works every time,” Lauren whispered.

  They tiptoed back to the dining room. Emmy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a chocolate layer cake Gert had made that morning.

  “Oh my God. My favorite,” Lauren said, licking her lips. “But it’ll make me fat.”

  “Not when you’re nursing,” Griff piped up. “Go on. Have some.”

  Emmy gave her newest friend a piece. Then, she sliced generous wedges for the men. A small taste was all she could have. Costumes were expensive. She needed to maintain control of her weight.

  “No one can soothe Hank like Griff,” Lauren spoke up, after washing down a bite of cake with milk.

  “He seems to be an expert.”

  “It’s something about the size of his hands and the deep vibrations of his voice. It’s like a sleeping pill. Knocks the baby out every time.”

  “You’re good parents. So calm. I’d be a wreck.” Buddy ran his fingers through his hair.

  “You’d pick it up quick. Nothing so hard here.” Griff shrugged his shoulders.

  Buddy yawned, and Lauren checked her watch. “Time to go.”

  “Buddy needs his rest s
o he can get his ass back on the field,” Griff agreed, rising from his chair.

  It took fifteen minutes for Griff and Lauren to pack up their child and his stuff and say goodbye. Lauren hugged Emmy, whispering in her ear, “You’re just as amazing in person as you are on stage.”

  The rock star sensed heat in her cheeks and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’d make an awesome wife and mother too.” Lauren spoke behind her hand, but Buddy’s head picked up.

  He stared at his girlfriend. She lowered her gaze, confused by the battle between her head and her heart.

  Buddy turned to her. “Emerald has a concert schedule to complete, right?”

  “Right!” She gestured with her arm. “In fact, I need to check in with my manager.” She waved, caressed the sleeping baby’s head, and then disappeared into the den. She dialed Stash and blew out a big breath as she waited for him to answer.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “Still in Monroe.”

  “What the fuck? When are you coming out here?”

  “Soon, Stash.”

  “Don’t cut it too close. You’ve absolutely gotta be here Friday morning.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Are you marrying this jerk?”

  “Of course not. I’m taking care of him. He was hurt, Stash. Hurt bad.”

  “I don’t give a shit, Emerald. I care about you, not him.”

  “Yeah, right. You care about the money.”

  “And you. You’d better be here on time.”

  “I will! I said I would, didn’t I?” She was yelling.

  “If you blow this contract, your career is over!”

  “I won’t!” she hollered then threw the phone across the room.

  Buddy knocked on the open door. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Emmy waved her hand back and forth.

  “Stash?”

  “Stash, being Stash. It’s okay.”

  “Do I need to punch his lights out?” Buddy made a fist.

  She laughed. “Right now, you couldn’t punch a flea’s lights out. Off to bed with you.”

  “You coming?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Why?” She tried to frown, but was unsuccessful.

  He came up behind her and closed his fingers over her shoulders, his thumbs massaged her. “Because I love to touch you, even if we can’t do anything,” he whispered in her ear, licking her earlobe once. A shiver shot down her spine. She closed her eyes and leaned back into his chest. Buddy nuzzled her neck. “Come with me.”