Ironic. Money, a commodity he was determined never to be a significant factor for most of his life, was now the primary reason for many decisions over the last couple of years.
Being practical was annoying.
He had been careful with his finances, surrounding himself with good role models in his sport and learning from those who weren’t as successful. Too many professional athletes struggle after their playing years.
Helping with Margot’s extra treatments, Michael’s living expenses at the care facility, and then his impulse buy with the bach made a more significant impact on his savings than he’d realized. He wasn’t in trouble, but it was a bit of a shock to see the numbers in black and white.
Still, even the new contract from the rugby club in France wasn’t enough to change his mind. While he knew he could never walk entirely away from the sport he loved, he was ready to stay off the pitch. His body was holding up, but it was taking longer to recover. Seeing his former flatmate’s career end abruptly with one hit was a reminder he had been luckier than most.
His retirement from rugby warranted some mention in the news. After all, he was captain of the national team for a handful of games. But after a day’s worth of attention, his name disappeared from the media. He’d never generated the same kind of interest as his two more charismatic and media-friendly predecessors, Mitch Molloy and Connor Dane. He preferred it that way.
It was the one thing about his success on the rugby pitch he tolerated but never enjoyed: continually being in the public eye. Spurgeon, fortunately, gave him the right tools to deal with the attention. Mano found that as long as he was prepared, facing questions and the constant scrutiny was manageable.
Time in California may not have been his idea initially, but the longer he thought about the prospect, the more attractive it became. No one knew him in this country. His sport was a side note in America, at best. Maybe he’d get some attention from the expat community who brought their passion for rugby with them from foreign lands, but he could be a “nobody” for a while in America.
Maybe, when the year was up, he could return home and start a life without fanfare or attention. He would be old news by then. Public interest would have moved on to the latest stars of the sport. Maybe Uncle Malcolm would still have that job for him to work on the boats. Perhaps, by then, he’d understand how to live a life without her.
He continued to combat the pounding headache with warm water and lemon, finally finishing his first day in California in his new backyard. Twilight deepened the colors of an unfamiliar sky. At least this part of the rental lived up to its promise. It was private and quiet. His phone sounded.
* * *
Eden: Will you text me back, so I know you haven’t fainted again? I’ll call the ambulance if I don’t hear from you in ten mins.
Mano frowned. It’d been a few hours since Eden had left. He turned the hand that held the phone, his eyes lingering on the spot her thumb had rested when they had shaken hands. She had smelled of gardenias.
One friend… No, not her. Even if she smelled good.
He reread Eden’s message. He wanted to ignore it but thought Eden was a woman who’d keep her word.
* * *
Mano: I don’t faint.
CHAPTER FOUR
With Aidan staying overnight at Matthew’s, Eden arrived at the pool exactly at five past five the next morning. The near-empty parking lot confirmed she would be the first. The only other car—a strikingly bright blue two-door sedan—was a familiar sight.
Aimee, a St. Anne’s student, was on duty at the check-in counter. Hair pulled back haphazardly, shadows under her eyes, she nevertheless gave Eden a wide smile when the latter passed her member’s card through the scanner.
“Looks like you had a good night, Aimee.”
Aimee grinned sheepishly. “I’m almost looking forward to classes starting again. Socializing is hard work. I wasn’t expecting you this morning. Rumor has it you’ll be swimming with the Berkeley club soon.”
Eden angled her head. “Well, I’ll always be a Beaver.”
Aimee laughed then groaned, closing her eyes briefly. “I don’t understand how something that seemed so fun at the time could hurt so much in the morning.”
“Hydrate.”
Besides working at the university rec center, Aimee was one of Eden’s army of babysitters. Despite her initial appearance, the captain of the fencing team took her sport seriously. Once the school year began, Aimee’s social life would be significantly reduced, and she would be laser-sharp in her attitude toward academics and breaking the west coast college drought of collegiate titles in her sport.
Eden’s shoes squeaked on the newly cleaned floors, the medical scent of pine still lingering. She pushed through the glass door and walked toward the benches. After shedding her clothes, she showered while the low hum of the air filtration system kept her actions from being the only noise in the otherwise silent hall.
At the pool’s edge, she knelt and dipped her goggles into the water, watching the soft waves move past the lines of buoys before they ceased to have any power. The water was clear and at a constant temperature of 80°F. Eden tucked her hair underneath her swim cap, rolled her shoulders, then began her usual warm-ups: swinging her arms loosely, across her back and front, then a slow progression of stretches.
She dove into the middle lane and let her muscles do the work she had spent years perfecting. This was the only place she could quiet her mind; the world above the watermark ceased for an hour or two. She had tried to leave it once. As a new mother, unsure how she and Brandon would juggle parenting with work, school, and his ambitions for the Summer Games, she fed an unconscious fear that she would never return as a competitive athlete.
The unplanned C-section, a longer than expected recovery, out-of-whack hormones, then recognizing she was no longer privy to an insider’s community of coaches and trainers made it easier to stay away from the one place she had felt most like herself.
Two years after Aidan’s birth, her dads pushed her back into the pool. Just as they had done when she was five years old, on her first day of swim lessons. Aidan needed to learn to swim, they argued. Brandon could take him, she argued back. In the end, the half-hour sessions in the “Parent and Me” class at the local Y were the gentle reintroduction she needed.
The pool welcomed her back. Her body knew it was home, so easily she moved through the water. She was guided by instinct in that first swim back, even when her stamina was no longer what it was. After that, it was just a matter of managing schedules to squeeze in that one day a week at the pool. Then it was two days. Then she gave up cable TV to pay for babysitting so she could make it three days a week.
A slight shift in the currents suggested another body had entered the pool. When she turned at the wall, a figure appeared in the lane next to her. Then she sensed another body in the far lane. Then another.
The Beavers were coming out, even on a Sunday morning.
But it wasn’t a Beaver who greeted her after she finished swimming her final set of laps.
“Eden?”
“Jordan? What are you doing here?”
She’d had minimal contact with St. Anne’s most recent Summer Games’ champion. He started working as a TA at the college around the same time as she, but their paths rarely crossed since he wasn’t a student-athlete.
Besides being a popular addition to the faculty—his classes usually achieved full enrollment before the other instructors’—he stayed in the public eye with occasional commentary on the local TV stations whenever the competitive swim season came around.
“Taking advantage of faculty privileges,” he said as he closed the short gap between them, muscled arms hung over the divider. Brown eyes, no longer shielded by goggles, studied her intently. “But I won’t lie, I had hoped I’d catch you. You haven’t replied to my messages.”
“I’m still thinking about your offer.”
“I hope you’ll join us. Really.”<
br />
“It’s just…well…I used to swim on the women’s team at Cal and—”
Jordan held up his hand. “Hey, I totally get it. And if they want you back, I won’t be offended. Makes sense to swim where you have history. But Brady’s new there. Good coach, but he may not remember you. You know we at St. Anne’s look out for one another. Just want you to know you have a place with me…with us…with this team.”
Eden gave a little laugh. “What a coincidence. I said something similar to our new rugby consultant yesterday.”
Jordan smiled. “It’s a good philosophy to follow. Sports can be lonely. But, hey, no pressure, Eden. The offer is there. I think we’re all excited we could have another National swimmer among us.”
A shiver went up her spine. Could that be her again? A National swimmer?
“I promise,” Eden said. “Tomorrow. Give me one more day to think about it. Driving out to Berkeley is a big commitment. Twice a day is workable during the summer, but once school starts….”
“We can carpool in the morning. I don’t live far from here. And with Kenny now officially retired, I can confirm that Tommy Jones is coming back.”
Eden’s eyes widened. This was news. “Tommy’s back?”
“You knew him from your college days, right?”
“Yeah. Brandon would say he wouldn’t have made it to the Summer Games without Tommy Jones’ coaching. You’ve done your homework, Jordan.”
“Well, I know my sport; I know its history. Especially locally. Brandon O’Callaghan’s name still carries some weight. He must give you some tips here and there.”
Eden shook her head. “Swimming doesn’t come up much between us now that we have a thirteen-year-old. Aidan takes priority in our conversations.”
“Of course.” Jordan glanced around the pool. “Tommy still talks about Brandon’s reaction time off the block.”
Eden laughed. “Like a bolt of lightning?”
“Yes!” Jordan’s face was thoughtful. “Tommy has your name in his notebook.”
Eden blinked. “No way. Seriously?”
Jordan smiled. “Yes. It’s there. Saw it myself when we caught up last week. I only got my name in it when I broke the State’s record in the IM.”
“The race you medaled in.”
“You know what it means when your name gets into his book, right? He thinks you have a shot.” Jordan swam to the ladder, turning to her before climbing it. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “I’ll decide by tomorrow.”
“I look forward to hearing from you,” Jordan said.
“Hey, Jordan!” Eden turned to find Linda Wellens’ grinning face under her bright pink cap from the other lane.
Eden rolled her eyes. She sensed trouble.
“Hi Linda,” Jordan said.
“Come back, will you? It’s always good to have some young blood in this pool once in a while.”
“Watch who you’re calling ‘old,’ Wellens!” a voice came from the other side of the pool.
“Saw you sucking it in when you noticed Jordan was here, Bob!” Linda yelled back.
Jordan laughed. “Of course. But will you still welcome me back if I take your star swimmer to Berkeley?”
Linda glanced at Eden before looking past her again. “Help her qualify for Nationals, and the Beavers will always welcome you two back.”
“You got yourself a deal, Linda,” Jordan said. “Tomorrow, Eden. I now have your team captain’s blessing to take you away. No excuses. See you soon, I hope.”
Eden gave Jordan a quick nod. Linda continued to hang on the buoys, her gaze following Jordan as he left the pool, a slight smile on her lips. Eden silently counted to ten. “Linda! You’re up to something. But what? And I’m not sure how I feel that you’re so willing to get rid of me.”
Linda adjusted the straps from her goggles. “In the two years since Jordan Kennedy moved to the Bay Area, he has recruited some of the top swimmers for the Berkeley club. That kid has ambitions. The Beavers are a safe environment for you, but you need more. One point two seconds is not impossible to drop, but it can be long enough never to realize a dream.” Linda returned her gaze to Eden. “Besides, he’s hot.”
“Linda!”
“He is. I may be sixty, but a hot body is a hot body. And you haven’t gone out on a date for as long as I’ve known you.”
A few days ago, Eden might have paid more attention to how attractive Jordan was. Instead, lips that wouldn’t smile burned in her memory. “Uncomfortable topic, Linda.”
“No crime in looking, Eden,” Linda said. “Hot or not, call him tomorrow, please. You’ll always have a spot here with the Beavers. We love you, but as the saying goes, if you love them, set them free. Time for you to go.” Linda smiled again before going under and pushing off from the wall.
Eden was technically done with her morning swim, but the anxiety in her body remained. She had decisions to make. Her time at the last meet was thrilling, but it now brought consequences she hadn’t expected.
She, too, kicked off against the wall and returned to a rhythm that would see her through the next ten minutes. But her mind, usually silent in her morning swim, wouldn’t rest. She knew Linda was right. Swimming with the Beavers had gotten her further than she had expected. But there was no one else that could push her. And now Tommy Jones and his famous notebook were back in the Bay Area.
Tommy knew her. He knew how she swam. More importantly, he had a hand in taking another thirty-something to the podium at last year’s Nationals.
She looked up at the wall clock and mentally calculated she had eight minutes to shower and change. If she didn’t bump into anyone, she’d be at Patty Yuan’s door in twenty minutes—plenty of time to then walk with Aidan to Sunday Mass.
She miscalculated by three minutes. Not her fault, she rationalized. Sunday drivers in the suburbs were terrible.
As the familiar chimes of the Yuan’s doorbell reverberated indoors, Eden glanced toward Mano’s house. She hadn’t appreciated the house very much until now. It was merely the house at the end of the street. Sometimes, its owner—and now Mano’s landlady—would sit outside, usually with Mrs. Henderson on her porch. Pride in ownership was evident. A new coat of paint in a dark gray hue kept the house looking classy instead of old. Its lawns were neat with lavender guiding the path that led to the front door. Eden grinned.
The blinds were down.
The man learned quickly. She’d send him a text after Mass, just to see how he was doing. At least she knew he remained alert last night.
“Good morning!” Patty greeted her as she opened the door. “He’s on his way down. I can’t guarantee they had their eight hours of sleep, though they were quiet after nine o’clock.”
“You sound suspicious.”
“I told Charles we need a program that can selectively switch off access to the Wi-Fi, but he’s dragging on it. Thinks I worry too much.”
The thumping of the stairs revealed a sleepy-eyed teenager, shirt untucked with a loose tie around his neck. “Am I serving for Father Brian or Father Paul?” Aidan asked, pulling his backpack over his shoulder.
Eden’s hand was pushed away when she tried to reach for Aidan’s tie. “Father Brian.”
“Then I won’t need the tie.”
“Your grandmother wants you to wear a tie.”
“How would she know? She’s miles away.”
“You’ll know you didn’t live up to your word, Aidan O’Callaghan. And I won’t lie for you.”
She ignored her son’s glare as she consciously smiled extra wide for the sake of her friend. “Thank you for letting Aidan stay over. We’ll have to have Matthew over soon.”
“He’d love that.” Patty turned her head slightly, careful to make eye contact with Aidan. “You know you are always welcome here, right? You’re such a good friend to Matt.”
Aidan nodded, then his eyes grew wide. “Excuse me. Hey! Mano! Mano! Wait up!”
Both women watched Aid
an as he ran toward the road, literally stopping Mano in his tracks. “Oh…hello,” murmured Patty. “I thought you said he wasn’t feeling well yesterday. He seems pretty healthy today.”
“Patty…”
“Oh, to be a gray shirt on that man….”
Don’t stare! He’s a colleague! Turn around!
Mano’s hair was pulled up into a man bun, emphasizing the thickness of his neck and muscled shoulders. He crossed his arms as he spoke to Aidan, biceps straining the sleeves of an athletic shirt that clung to his body. Damp patches suggested a workout worthy of a top athlete.
Eden cleared her throat. “Aidan! We have to go!”
“Five minutes, Mom. Please!”
Patty grinned. “Better go get him. I know Father Brian. He may not care about ties, but he won’t be happy if you’re late.”
Eden pulled at her earlobe as she walked toward Aidan and Mano. Neither her son nor the rugby player bothered to look her way until she was right next to them.
“What do you say, Mr. Palua?”
Mano’s dark eyes were suddenly on Eden, and she swallowed nervously. “Hi!”
Aidan raised his eyebrows, surprise etched on his face. No doubt at the unusual high pitch of her voice, thought Eden.
“Good morning,” Mano said. “Aidan said you’re off to church.”
“Yes. He’s an altar server at St. Anne’s chapel once a month. It’s something all the O’Callaghan boys do apparently,” Eden explained. “His dad was an altar server; his grandfather was an altar server. I think an O’Callaghan even worked in the Vatican.”
“Mom, no one asked.”
This time, it was she who was guilty of staring at someone’s smile. Well, almost a smile. On a face of granite.
Always and Forever: Rugby Brothers, Book 3 Page 6