“Mom? Can I?” Aidan asked impatiently.
“Can you what?” Eden asked.
“Weren’t you listening?” Aidan huffed. “Mano… I mean, Mr. Palua said he’d help me with rugby if it’s okay with you.”
“I didn’t think you were serious about rugby. I mean, it’s just something you did with Granddad once in a while.”
“Oh geez, Mom!” Aidan shook his head and started walking away, frustration evident in his gait.
“Hey!” Eden blew out of her mouth. “Sorry about that. He’s a little…uh…explosive these days.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirteen.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Yeah, that’s what my dads say. But…”
“When I was that age, Mum used to say I’d get mad if the cat purred too loudly.”
“What did she do when you got angry?”
“Signed me up for more rugby.”
Eden laughed, her eyes returning to Mano’s lips.
“I used to,” he said.
“Huh?”
“You just said I should smile more often.”
Eden’s eyes widened as she felt the familiar wave of heat flood her face. She groaned. “I’m sorry! I do that sometimes, say things out loud before I think it through. It was so bad as a teenager, one of my dads had me go through a neuropsych evaluation. But nothing. I’m normal other than I just blurt things out! No filter.”
Aidan’s loud yell followed by him gesturing to an imaginary wristwatch interrupted Eden’s unexpected confession. She inhaled deeply and shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just me.”
Mano frowned. “If what you say is true, nothing wrong with that.” He nodded in Aidan’s direction. “Your son asked if he could have a handful of coaching sessions with me in exchange for putting up the Halloween decorations.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know anything about Halloween, and Mrs. Henderson stopped by this morning….” He paused as if considering the weight of his next words. “She said to expect three hundred children. That’s more than what Patty said. That can’t be right. Three hundred?”
Eden nodded. “If it’s not raining, I wouldn’t be surprised by that number. Seven Hills attracts young families. Young families love Halloween.”
Mano’s jaw seemed to clench tighter. “If Aidan has your permission, I will have Mondays off.”
“Are you sure?”
Mano’s voice was firm. “I don’t do Halloween, but I respect traditions. If it’s what’s expected, I’d better do something about it. A few coaching sessions seem a fair trade for help.”
An hour later, Eden’s suspicion that Father Brian was going to recycle a homily was confirmed when Eula Lathrop, three pews up, gave her husband a nudge followed by a look of approval. Eula liked this one, which usually meant it would start with an anecdote from Father Brian’s childhood in Dublin that would eventually tie into the gospel for the day.
Usually, she liked Father Brian’s homilies, but the dark, deep-set eyes of a stranger intrigued her. There was a story behind them. She could sense it. Maybe Mano Palua was a deadbeat dad who wanted to run away from his obligations. Or he was thrown out of his country for wild behavior. She didn’t know much about rugby beyond what happened on the field. Her dad used to take her out to Golden Gate Park to watch the local club team play every weekend. She knew the rules and the positions but nothing more.
Robert Pak was in heaven when Aidan started to show more than a casual interest in the sport. They’d often watch games online; squeals of disbelief and unexpected language would come from the dining table where the laptop would be propped up. As an athlete, she understood what could come with the responsibility and honor of representing one’s country. Some like Brandon thrived on it and were able to create a life beyond sport; others sunk under the expectations of glory.
All could be revealed if she’d clicked on the many links that came up when she’d first searched for Mano’s picture. Given how big the sport was in New Zealand and his success in it, there was bound to be a great deal of information about Mano. Except it didn’t feel right nosing into someone’s life like that. It was the one thing that weighed on Brandon’s mind as he continued to make headway in the world of sports broadcasting: the possible loss of privacy.
Eden looked toward the back of Aidan’s head, now seated on the front pew as Father Brian continued to discuss the virtues of forgiveness. That was one thing she never doubted about her ex-boyfriend: that he’d be a good father. Surprisingly, they didn’t disagree much when it came to Aidan’s welfare. She frowned.
So far.
Aidan’s decision to quit swimming didn’t go over too well with Brandon. She appeased his frustration that at least their son was interested in other sports. Then Aidan dropped out of baseball and refused to try cross-country. Brandon insisted Aidan take up a sport. Their son refused. She tried to ease the tension between father and son by suggesting that, maybe, Aidan needed to explore the arts, to take a break from sports. Aidan balked at her idea of picking up a musical instrument then drew stick figures on any dry surface to prove his point that he would not benefit from an art class.
That’s why this morning’s question about working out with Mano was more than a surprise.
It was a whisper of hope that her son would do more than play video games as an extracurricular activity.
Eden uncrossed and crossed her legs, adjusting her body slightly against the hard surface of the polished wooden seat. She arched her neck slightly, partly to loosen it but mainly to enjoy the sun hitting the rose window of the chapel: petals of blues, greens, gold, and red in an abstract combination glowed.
“Let us recite the Creed.”
Eden stood up with the congregation and bowed her head respectfully. Ten years of taking Aidan to Mass had made her actions automatic. Her dad, a self-proclaimed agnostic with a collection of self-help books that rivaled any library, wasn’t pleased about her decision. “Never trust anyone who says they speak for any god,” he had muttered.
It was Aidan’s great-grandmother’s wish that Aidan attended Mass every Sunday, a promise Margaret O’Callaghan extracted from Eden on her deathbed. At first, it was a chore. She didn’t grow up religious, but after nearly a decade of attending Mass, it wasn’t any different from something she had to do rather than something she wanted to do.
She could have argued that Aidan didn’t need all this ceremony, that this weekly attendance in a system she didn’t believe in was unnecessary. It was, however, an important part of Aidan’s family and, therefore, part of his heritage. She couldn’t deny him that. What had been tedious and foreign was now comforting in its consistency. There was a reason for everything; a message behind every action; a purpose behind each word. Nothing was said or done by accident.
When Communion was distributed, she excused herself out of the chapel. She’d wait for Aidan to change out of his robes then, together, they’d swing by the college cafeteria for Sunday brunch. A few people began to trickle out of the chapel after her. Then the sound of the pipe organ—used only for this Mass—marked the end of the service. The heavy dark doors opened, Aidan coming out first with the crucifix in hand.
He saw her immediately. “Won’t be long.”
Father Brian nodded as he walked toward her. “First time I’ve seen you since the Masters meet. I understand ‘congratulations’ are in order. A new record in the 50. Impressive!”
“I hadn’t realized you followed swimming, Father.”
Father Brian shook hands with another member of the congregation. “I swam in college. But if you must know, I’m only on top of things because Linda Wellens is my cousin. She wrote a request for you to drop one point two seconds in our prayer book. I had to call her up to explain that it wasn’t quite what the purpose of the book is.”
“Linda Wellens is your cousin?”
Father Brian nodded as he continued to shake hands with parishioners. “Oh, yes. She’s
quite a nuisance, really. Always asking for one intercession or another. Who does she think I am? God?” he winked.
Eden laughed. “I hadn’t realized how much of a fan I had in Linda.”
Father Brian waved at a family walking past them. “As a child, she was our leader. Everything that Linda has achieved, she’s done on her own. The only thing she couldn’t do was get to the top ranks of swimming. Time’s not kind to athletes, especially those who don’t fulfill their dreams. Ah, Aidan, my boy! What’s the plan for today? Swift? Kipling? London? Twain?”
“What?” Aidan frowned.
Eden exchanged a grin with Father Brian. “We’re keeping it simple today. School starts in a week, and we need to get organized. Right?”
Aidan grunted, earning a chuckle from Father Brian. “You’re going to have a fine year. Eighth grade already. Can’t believe it. Last year of middle school. What are you most looking forward to?”
“They have a rugby club this year,” Aidan said. “And I’m going to try out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Mano watched dawn break over the line of trees behind the house. He was sitting on the deck in the backyard, having put on a fleece as his one concession to the unexpected chilly summer morning. A cup of hot tea warmed his hands. It was an unfamiliar brand; never tried tea with “a hint of ginseng” before. Connor would be impressed.
He had been up for a couple of hours, unused to a quiet that was different from the townhouse he owned—but shared with roommates—in Christchurch. It wasn’t that the house was completely absent from noise; there was an achingly slow leak in the bathroom he would need to fix, and the house creaked occasionally. Neither was anything that should keep him up through the night or wake him before the sun rose. But they weren’t sounds he was used to.
A squirrel popped its head out of the tree before it ran deftly across the fence. Was it the same one that jumped from tree to tree in the bush area behind the fence? It had enthralled him yesterday morning. He’d have to take a video of it and send it back to Fred Dane. That kid would go crazy about it.
He had spent yesterday afternoon walking through the neighborhood. He knew he’d be close to the college campus, but the ability to walk to the center of town was a pleasant surprise. He managed to bring home a couple of bags of groceries, though Eden did a good job of filling the pantry and refrigerator with enough to see him through his first week.
He hadn’t expected to see her yesterday morning. She looked fresh with her hair damp from a shower. Also unexpected was the enthusiastic greeting Aidan had thrown on him. He liked that boy with the big brown eyes, who saw everything. Mum would have said he had an old soul, and that “old soul” wanted to try his hand at rugby.
Aidan didn’t even bother with a greeting after running over from Eden’s side yesterday.
“Matt and I talked about it last night,” he had huffed. “And we both agree you being here is an answer to our prayers.”
“Mate, I don’t think so.”
“No, listen. Last week, Matt and I were discussing whether or not we should go out for rugby. My granddad has always tried to get me interested in the sport. We’ve passed the ball around. And when the school said it’s going to start a club this year.…”
“Mate, do you want to try this for yourself or for your grandfather?’”
“Does it matter?”
Mano had glanced up to see Eden studying them at this point with sharp, assessing eyes, but she hung back. He turned back to Aidan. “It needs to come from within, this desire to play.”
Aidan stood straighter. “It does. Granddad was just the introduction. This is my choice. Coming to you and asking for help? My choice.”
He should have said “no.” This wasn’t part of his plan. But something in Aidan’s eyes spoke to him. It was honest and a little desperate. Aidan reminded him of himself at that age and recognized the boy was looking for something to excel in, especially as the son of a swimming champion.
Mano put his lips to the still-warm mug, grimacing slightly as the unfamiliar flavor hit his taste buds. He only agreed to toss the ball back and forth, if time allowed, and only if their parents approved.
It’d be something he’d do back home for his friends.
Make new friends.
He shook his head slightly. Connor’s voice was in his head again. He’d been trying to shut out so many things from within—thoughts, emotions, memories—that he’d forgotten to hear his own voice anymore. But whether he was listening to Connor’s advice or trusting his own gut, the offer to Aidan came from a real desire to feed the enthusiasm for a sport he loved. At the very least, he was sure he could find out what type of training the school’s rugby program offered. He made a mental note to ask Alistair about it when they met later that morning.
The athletics director had called last night to welcome him. He had also received an email from the Men’s Rugby coach, now back from the team retreat. Mano read and reread the email sent by Brett McKenzie. He came to the conclusion that he may not have as enthusiastic a reception as Alistair would lead him to believe.
Two hours later, dressed in shorts and a collared blue polo, he left the house. He caught sight of Mrs. Henderson next door through the large window. Seated in an armchair, mug in one hand, and in a striking pink dressing gown, she gave him a wave and thumbs-up as he passed her house.
He held his hand up automatically though reluctantly. She had swung by last night with banana bread and an offer to join her book club. He took the bread but declined the book club offer. She didn’t seem put off with his rejection and told him they were reading Maya Angelou this month. “Her words are one of the voices of our country,” Mrs. Henderson stated solemnly.
Damn rental should have a warning sign: Not For Introverts.
Unlike yesterday, the trail that morning was busier with different types of people. Walkers, cyclists, and joggers passed him, but he recognized others were moving with a determination fueled by necessity rather than choice.
St. Anne’s College officially welcomed back its staff today.
He studied the schedule Alistair had emailed him. His morning was to be spent familiarizing himself with his colleagues and the campus. Then there was a general meeting for the entire athletic department scheduled for the afternoon. When not working with the rugby players, he seemed to be in a lot of meetings.
Mano stifled his distaste. He knew the higher one went up the “rugby ladder,” the more backroom work had to be done. There was play time, then there was plan time. He disliked sitting in rooms. He belonged out on the field. His predecessors on the national team were able to handle the balance better. His own captaining style was different. He’d rather just work with the players. Fortunately, the management knew how to work with each captain’s strengths, and the honor to lead was never a burden.
Clear signage made it easy to find the athletic department. Finding the head of St. Anne’s entire athletics department on his desk, retrieving darts from the ceiling, was, however, the last thing he’d thought would happen on his first day. Neither was the inability to breathe when Eden gave him a smile.
Dressed casually in slacks and a polo shirt, she had turned just as he looked through the open door of Alistair Montgomery’s office.
“Hey! Welcome! You found us! How are you?” Eden said. He caught the small dimple at the corner of her mouth. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? The haircut intrigued him: a buzz cut on one side that was softened by the long top that flipped casually over. It could have looked severe on somebody else. On Eden, it only highlighted her face and a long, slender neck. She was so different from Margot who was petite and wore her straight brown hair loose, parted in the middle.
He froze at the unexpected comparison. Thankfully, Eden seem preoccupied with collecting more darts. “Ignore him, Mano. I told him to take it down weeks ago.”
“I did,” said the giant as he pulled the last three darts. “These are a different batch.”
“You h
ave a target on the wall,” Eden said, putting the darts in a box on the desk.
“I don’t look at the wall when I’m thinking.” For his height, Alistair Montgomery jumped off his desk with surprising ease and dexterity. He gave Mano a sheepish look as he stepped forward, arm extended. “Sorry. I really did forget these were up here. Eden’s giving me a hard time because the provost is stopping by with a potential donor. Anyway, good to meet you at last, Mano. Welcome! Over jet lag yet?”
Mano returned the firm handshake. “Almost.” He took in the brightly lit room, high windows letting in plenty of sunshine. It was simply furnished; the large desk that had held Alistair’s weight took up most of the room. A row of filing cabinets and shelves were behind him. Adjacent, a wall of framed newspaper cuttings highlighted current and past success stories from St. Anne’s athletics department: track and field; swimming; basketball; lacrosse.
“No, nothing from rugby yet,” Alistair said. “And that’s why we’re excited you’re here.”
“Thank you for the opportunity to be part of the program.” A quick glance at Eden confirmed the feeling that she was still looking at him. She turned away when their eyes met, reaching for a stack of folders on the desk, a soft stain of pink visible at the base of her neck.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you two. Mano, when you’re done, there’s some paperwork that needs to be completed. It’s a little crazy with the whole staff here today for the first time since summer break. If I’m not here, Sarah—the other admin—can also help you. She’s really nice.”
Mano pursed his lips and nodded while silently questioning the sudden uptick of his heart rate at her study of him.
“Hey, Eden,” Alistair interrupted. “Just before you go. One more time: are you sure? I haven’t officially turned in your request or my approval.”
Eden exhaled. A flash of nervousness washed over her face before being replaced by the large smile that had nearly paralyzed him minutes ago. “I’m sure. Sarah said she’d welcome the extra hours. As long as you’re good with it too.”
Always and Forever: Rugby Brothers, Book 3 Page 7