“I’m surprised the league didn’t send out a letter or something to the parents. Are they trying to find someone?”
Andrew looked sheepish. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” She might be relatively new at surrogate motherhood but she knew that was a loaded phrase.
“We told Mr. Watson, the man who runs the league, that we already had a new coach.”
“Let me guess. You guys were going to convince Lieutenant Sterling to be your coach.”
Andrew nodded. “I thought it would work. Harper’s dad works with him. That’s how we found out he was at Fort Wilson.”
Shaking her head, she said, “You’re in over your head, buddy.”
“We were going to surprise the parents with a rock-star coach.”
“I see.”
Andrew and his friends took sports very seriously. While she was surprised the league took the boys’ word for it when they claimed they had a new coach, she wasn’t surprised that they’d tried to find a way to recruit an athlete they all knew and admired.
“I know, and now, with practice starting on Tuesday, it’s too late to find someone else.”
“I wish you’d talked to me before you took matters into your own hands.” She squeezed his shoulder.
“What are we going to do?” Andrew’s voice reached a full-blown whine.
“We’ll figure something out, buddy. I promise.”
“It’s too late. We probably won’t even get to play this year.”
“Why were you so set on having Lieutenant Sterling as your coach?”
Andrew turned from the window. “You don’t know?”
Maddie shook her head. “Know what?”
“He was one of the greatest college football players of all time.”
She pointed toward the living room. “The man in the living room?”
Andrew nodded. “David Sterling. He played for Ole Miss. He was a star.”
“How did you know he’d be at the track?”
Andrew shrugged. “Harper’s dad runs with him sometimes.”
“I really wish you’d talked to me first,” she said.
“I do, too.”
“We’ll find a coach. I’ll make some calls around the neighborhood tonight. Maybe Tommy’s dad will agree to coach. Honey, this is not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Andrew said.
“Why can’t one of the moms do it? Surely one or two of them know football well enough to coach.” She liked the sport herself. She kept up with her own college team during the season every year and she usually watched the Super Bowl. “How hard could it be? I mean the rules are pretty basic, right? Ten yards for a first down, six points for a touchdown, four quarters.”
“If one of the moms coaches, we’ll be the laughingstock of the league.”
“I’m surprised at you. Girls can do anything that boys can. Look at your mom. If I can’t find anyone willing to step up, then I’ll coach your team myself. In the meantime, you need to go into the living room and apologize to Lieutenant Sterling.”
Sterling. Just saying it aloud was a shock to her system. How many times had she read that name in the newspaper accounts of Frank’s death? How many times, soon after he died, had she wished she could talk to Sterling, ask about Frank’s last words?
How many times had she cursed Sterling? Wondered why it had to be Frank instead of his commanding officer?
But now, things were different. She’d worked hard to get past the pain and the grief. The last thing she needed was something, or someone, to bring it all up again.
Andrew hung his head. “I can’t. I know I shouldn’t have acted like that.”
“How about I go apologize for you and explain what happened? Just this once.” She should make Andrew apologize, but it was clear he worshipped Lieutenant Sterling. If he went back into the living room, the man might stay longer.
She wanted Lieutenant Sterling out of her house and off her mind as quickly as possible. Just his presence threatened to undo all the hard-earned progress of the past few years.
“Would you do that for me, Aunt Maddie?”
“I’d do almost anything for you, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair and placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “I’ll check on you in a few minutes, okay?”
Lieutenant Sterling was standing near the fireplace, looking at the framed, triangular American flag above the mantle when she returned to the living room. “Is he okay?” he asked, turning to face her.
She nodded. “You were right. The coach was deployed and Andrew and his teammates decided you would be the perfect replacement. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. I had no idea any of this was going on. The kids told the league manager they had a new coach and that’s why I didn’t hear anything about Coach West’s deployment.”
“Pretty clever kids to try and recruit their own coach.”
Maddie exhaled loudly. “With practice starting on Tuesday, it’s going to take an Act of Congress to find someone to step in. I wish Callie were here. She would’ve seen this coming and already had a solution.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not easy to step into someone else’s shoes, being mom and dad, while your sister’s deployed.”
“I never knew how tough this mothering gig could be.”
“He seems like a great kid. How long before your sister gets home?”
“Three months.”
“Only ninety days? That’s nothing. You’ve been through the worst of it. She’ll be stepping off the plane before you know it.” He smiled. It was open and sincere and it put her at ease.
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
He nodded and crossed his arms. “Andrew asked me to coach his team, but I don’t have any experience with kids, unless you count some of the guys in the barracks. I do know quite a bit about football. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.”
“Lieutenant, that’s very kind of you, but it’s really not your responsibility.” The last thing she wanted was to ask Frank’s commanding officer anything. Ever. The longer he stayed, the more uncomfortable she became.
“Please, call me David. After today, it’s not like we can stand on ceremony.”
She felt a hot blush spread across her cheeks. “Then call me Maddie.”
“Andrew must be going through a lot right now. Helping the family of another soldier is the least I can do.” His voice quavered a bit.
“I really appreciate the offer but if one of the dads won’t step up, I’ll coach them myself.” She just wanted him to go.
“You know enough about football to coach a team?”
Her well-trained ears couldn’t tell if it was amusement or admiration she heard in his voice.
“They’re only eight years old. How serious can it be? I follow my college team, so I’ve picked up a few things. Touchdowns are still worth six points, right? Plus, I have experience. I was the center on my college team,” she said with a playful wink.
“Center, huh? Somehow you don’t look like you have quite the build for it. I don’t know many centers who are five foot three.”
She shrugged. “I can check out some books at the library or go online or something. Watch some films. Isn’t that what coaches do?”
“That’s what they say on ESPN. Good luck, Maddie. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
“Your concern is noted,” she said, smiling.
He checked his watch. “I hate to be so abrupt, but I’ve got to get going. Thanks for the tea.” He placed the empty glass on the tea tray.
She followed him to the door. “Thanks again. Maybe next time we’ll meet under better circumstances.”
Maddie couldn’t imagine those circumstances. She hoped this was the last she’d ever see of Lieutenant David Sterling.
Just as she was about to breathe a deep sigh of relief, he asked, “When’s your first practice?”
“According to the sheet the league mailed to me, it’s Tuesday afte
rnoon at four o’clock.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by to see how it’s going.”
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Good luck.”
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he walked out the door before either of them mentioned Frank.
After checking on Andrew, who was already asleep, she paced back and forth across the width of the living room, and fought the urge to pull the scrapbooks off the top shelf.
She hadn’t looked through them in a long time. It wasn’t good for her and she knew it. Page after page of Frank. His graduation from Boot Camp at Parris Island. The both of them in fancy clothes for a military ball. Newspaper clippings from the local paper after his death. Looking at the scrapbooks depressed her.
But tonight, she rationalized it. She was only looking to see if the man who’d brought Andrew home was the man in charge when Frank was ambushed and killed.
Once she had the scrapbook on her lap, she couldn’t open it. Didn’t want to open it.
She’d never see the man again. What did it matter?
Frank was dead. That book was closed.
...
David had seen the flag. Lance Corporal Franklin Honeycutt Westerfield.
A name that was etched into his heart as deeply as his dead brother’s. A marine lost under his command. A life gone because of his own incompetence.
His own mother had a flag just like it—a crisp triangle encased in a frame, his brother’s name and rank etched on the brass plate mounted to the green velvet lining—perched on her mantle back home in Mississippi.
That piece of fabric was the only reason he’d traded in his football jersey for camouflage. He’d made a promise the day his brother’s coffin was lowered into the ground. He hadn’t known then the cost of a mission of vengeance, hadn’t known the cost of one flag was another.
His quest, the eye for an eye bullshit, that had driven him to join the Marine Corps in the first place, had cost another life. The life of a man he was charged to command. A man, who over the course of the deployment, had become like a brother to him.
Frank Westerfield, the woman’s late husband.
It was a terrible thing to have in common with such a beautiful woman.
If circumstances had been different, he would have been attracted to her. Hell, there was no “would” to it. He was no different than any other red-blooded man when it came to curls the exact color of the copper penny he carried in his pocket—the one his dad had given him as a good luck charm before his first football game. And how could he not notice her lips? Full and pouty and perfectly shaped.
He didn’t have time to think about any woman, but he especially didn’t have the time to think about Frank Westerfield’s widow.
There were two things on his mind: making amends and finishing up his time in the Corps.
He only had a few months left before he became a civilian again. Then he could go back to Mississippi and live a civilian life, hundreds of miles away from the Marine Corps.
The last thing he needed was a woman who reminded him of the biggest failure of his life.
Chapter Two
Maddie and Andrew slept late the next morning. After cartoons, she cooked a big breakfast for the two of them and they took their time at the table. By the time everything was cleaned up, it was nearly one o’clock.
While Andrew watched his favorite episode of Phineas and Ferb in the living room, she pulled the football team list from the drawer and began dialing. Two hours later, she’d heard every excuse imaginable—some legitimate, some unbelievably weak.
She called the community center and declared her intention to serve as coach for the Camp Wilson Pirates.
Coach Maddie. It had a certain ring to it.
“Andrew,” she yelled into the backyard where he was busy building a fort using some discarded boxes. “Let’s walk to the library.”
He readily agreed. He was always eager to check out the new middle readers rack. They walked south down Verbena Lane, toward the library.
“How come we’re going to the library on a Saturday? We usually go on Mondays for Leaping Legos. Did you run out of those paperbacks with people kissing on the covers?”
She felt the heat of a blush. “I read more than just romance, Andrew. Anyway, they’re about more than just kissing. At least most of them are. I need to check out some books on football.”
“Football? Oh no. You haven’t decided to coach, have you?”
“I spent two hours on the phone and not a single parent stepped up to coach. I’m the only one who’ll take the job.”
“Aunt Maddie,” Andrew whined, “everyone’s going to make fun of me. We’ll probably lose every single game.”
“We are not going to lose every game. I could be a pretty good coach. Have some faith in me. Come on, kiddo, I can do this. You can help. Won’t it be cool to talk strategy over dinner?”
“No, it will not be cool.” He scuffed his feet as they walked along the sidewalk. “If you need to check out books about football, you definitely don’t know enough to coach. I want Lieutenant Sterling to be my coach. He’s the best.”
There was no way she was telling Andrew about his connection to Frank. There was no reason to tell him because, hopefully, they’d seen the last of Lieutenant Sterling.
“He’s not going to be your coach, Andrew.”
The child sighed deeply. “But he’s such a good football player. With him, we could win every game.”
“I’m the only choice you have,” she said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face him. “Thanks to Lieutenant Sterling, you got off easy last night. Don’t push your luck today. Your first game is in a few days, so I can coach and you can play, or I can refuse and you won’t be able to play at all.”
He contemplated in silence as they began walking again. His disappointment was obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the shuffling of his feet. Finally he said, “I guess a girl coach is better than no coach.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” she said.
Half an hour later, they left the library with a stack of books. She’d checked out thick volumes written by professional and college coaches. She was a fast reader and quick learner.
“What did you find?” she asked him. He held up the first book on his stack. My First Book of Football? Really?”
“I think you need to start with the basics.”
“What’s the next one?”
He held up What is Football?
“That’s so insulting. Do you think I am completely clueless? Why did you check out all those little kid books?”
“You are clueless. You just don’t know it.”
“Okay, then ask me a question—any question—about the game and I’ll answer it.”
“How many players make up a team?” Andrew stopped on the street and looked up at her.
She placed her finger on her cheek and looked up into the sky. “Well, you’ve got the quarterback, the running back, those big guys that protect the quarterback, and I guess there are about four of them.” She paused and used her fingers to count. “A kicker, and a punter, those are the little guys, so all in all, I’d say you have about seven guys from each team on the field at once.”
“Worse than I thought,” he said, shaking his head. “There are eleven, exactly eleven, players from each team on the field for each play. The punter and the kicker, they’re only in the game sometimes, like when you need to kick. Ever heard of special teams?” Andrew asked with the perfected sarcasm of a much older child.
“I was kidding. I know there are eleven. I was just making sure you were paying attention.”
“This is going to be the worst season ever.”
On the way home, Andrew’s friend, Tommy, was in his yard, so she agreed to let her nephew stay and play for a couple of hours. Back at home, she dumped the books onto the kitchen table.
“No time like the present,�
�� she muttered, plopping down in a chair and reaching for the first one.
They were dreadful, page after page devoted to things like the proper four-point stance or the importance of reading the other team’s defense. The pictures were even worse.
After an hour, she could take no more. Thinking that watching a game might help her grasp some of the finer points of the sport, she programmed the DVR to record a couple of early preseason games.
...
David should’ve already learned that there was no way to turn a wrong into a right.
When his brother, Robert, an unarmed chaplain had been kidnapped, held for ransom and then killed by militants in the Baghdis province of Afghanistan, he’d joined the Corps to avenge his brother’s murder.
The pain of his brother’s death was still as sharp as it had been then.
But Robert’s killers had never been found. As far as he knew, they were still operating in the same region, spreading terror and murder in the name of religion.
Not only had he been unsuccessful in his quest to avenge his brother’s murder, he’d ended up costing another man his life.
His grand plan was a miserable failure.
Now, nearly eight years later, he was ready to wave good-bye to the USMC and his misguided mission. Not only had he failed, he’d made matters worse for another family.
A family here in Fort Wilson.
Just down the street, there was a beautiful young woman who had become a widow before she even finished college. All because of his incompetent leadership.
He’d wanted to tell her, before he left her house. He’d tried.
He felt the desperate need to apologize, explain. Something.
After years of practicing what he’d say to her, he had been frozen, paralyzed. He never imagined he’d meet her while dressed in a T-shirt and running shorts, an eight-year-old boy standing between them.
He didn’t give a damn what the brass said. Since the beginning, they’d insisted he’d done his best, followed orders. No one could’ve anticipated the ambush. But he wasn’t buying it. Frank was under his command. His responsibility. Killed on his watch.
Coach Maddie and the Marine Page 2