Love Lifted Me (31 page)

“I will never use them.” He peered into her eyes, his voice firm with unwavering truth.

“Okay, then, I'll tell you why I have to trust you.” The wheel lifted them higher. Jade stared out, then down. “Look, Max, we're sitting on top of the world.”

“So we are, but Jade, why do you have to trust me? What's going on?”

She exhaled, turning toward him as best she could while locked in a metal bucket. “I'm pregnant.”

He blinked. “W-what?”

“I'm eleven weeks pregnant. Dr. Gelman said everything looked good. I've been throwing up every morning after you leave.”

“Y-you're pregnant?” His George Bailey stutter vibrated in his belly.

“Yes, babe, I'm pregnant.”

His heart brimmed and spilled over. “But we weren't trying. I mean, we hadn't even talked about it.”

“Well, I think we did a lot of talking, bucko. Nonverbal.” She laughed. Soft.

Without a care.

Max grabbed her and kissed her, sinking down in the bucket, sinking into her.

When he broke the passion, he sat back. “Ha, ha. We're having a baby.” Max shot his hands over his head. “Look out, world. Jade and Max Benson are having a baby.” He latched onto the crisscross bars and started rocking.

“Max, hey, wait.” Jade fell against him laughing. “Woo-hoo, world, we're having a baby.”

The couple below them applauded. “Congratulations.”

The wheel spun down to the ground. Max shouted to passersby, “We're having a baby.”

When they rode to the top, he shouted again, “We're having a baby.” He punched the air.
Yes, yes, yes
. “Jade.” He snatched her by the shoulders. “This one is different. This one will make it.”

Tears slithered to the corner of her eyes. “I think so too. I do, Max.”

“And Jade, guess what?”

She shook her head. “I don't know . . . what?”

“This is my first biological baby. And it's with you.”

She dropped her gaze. “I know. It's what we wanted but now it feels so silly. Asa is mine. He's yours. He's our firstborn.”

Max clipped his arm around her, kissing her temple, feeling the drop of the wheel as it spun around, then lifted them up. The circle of life. “We'll finalize Asa's adoption before this baby is born. Change his name to Benson. Call Cara. She's the lawyer on this. Tell her we want a December court date. The Warrior season will be over by then.” Probably his career, too, if Bobby had his way.

“What about the McClures, Max?” She'd spoken to him about Lorelai's visit. But Max had encountered Gus's reputation enough times to doubt his sincerity. “Can they be in Asa's life? I don't think there is any other answer but yes. They must. They are his grandparents.”

“I hear you. You're right. Let's talk to them when we go home for Christmas.”

“Can I Skype with them?”

“Yeah, Skype.” He grinned. “Your heart is reflected in all of this light beneath us.” Max gestured to the white river. “God brought all the truth to light for us when we said ‘yes' to Him and ‘no' to our own fears and wills.”

“I'm happy, Max.” Jade leaned into him as the wheel rode around, the breeze cutting fresh and cool.

“Me too, Jade-o. Me too.”

When the ride ended, Max passed the jockey two more tickets and a twenty, adding a hard glare for good measure. “We're not getting off.”

The wheel started and Max rode again with Jade. Rising above the earth.

Then lowering to the ground. Rising. Lowering. Lights above. Lights below.

This
was
the circle of life. Light and dark. Failures and successes. Triumph and sadness.

And love. Oh, love remained. And she rested in his arms tonight.

Twenty-eight

“Hey, Coach Mom.” Tucker leaned over Jade's laptop, his beach-sand locks long and drifting down the sides of his face. Confidence finally resided in his gray-blue eyes. “We're going to play some ball.” He spun the football in his hands. “Coach is going to teach us midnight football. Want to play?”

Jade paused from her e-mail. It'd been a week since she told Max about the baby so she figured she'd share the joy with Aiden and Willow too.

“Midnight football? First of all, it's only seven o'clock. Second of all, that's my game and what does Coach know about it?”

Tuck grinned. “That's what he said you'd say.” He motioned for her to come on. “Teach us. The game works before midnight, doesn't it?”

“Har, har.” It was a Saturday night and the boys, truck by truck, car by car, made their way to the house. “I'd love to teach you the game. Give me five minutes. Y'all set up a fifty-yard field and blast some tunes. Midnight football works best to The Boss, but y'all can listen to Chesney or Rascal Flatts, Johnny Mathis for all I care.”

“Who?” He crinkled his lip.

“Johnny Mathis, you know, velvet voice, African American singer.” Kids today had no culture. At all. The world's history began the day they were born. “After football season, all y'all are getting vintage music lessons from me.”

“What for?”

“To make sure you don't repeat the past.”

“Uh?”

“To humor me.”

“Oh, okay.” He raised his chin, eyes squinting with confusion. “See you out there?”

“On my way.” She couldn't play, of course. Nothing, not even a reminiscent game of midnight football, was worth risking the baby's safety.

The door crashed and slammed. “Hey, Coach Mom is on her way. Get the cones. Fifty-yard field.” Tuck's voice faded as he ran west of the house.

Jade stared at her computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard. She reread the last line of her e-mail to Aiden and Willow.

Max and I are so excited about the baby. We are hopeful. For us, for the baby, for a new life in Colby.

“Coach Mom.” Dylan dashed into the room. “Game's waiting on you.” His bangs tangled above his hazel eyes and his ruddy cheeks popped with his smile.

“On my way.”

He dashed out the same way he came in.
Bam. Slam
. “She's coming. Let's choose up sides.”

Gotta run. Teaching the boys midnight football. Aiden, remember the time we snuck out to play and Granny was waiting for us on the porch at two a.m.? We were all tiptoeing and whispering. She said, loud as ever, “Where you kids been?” LOL. She had to peel us off the ceiling.

Miss you both. Write. Call. Something.

With love,
Jade-o

Tugging on her Tennessee Volunteers sweatshirt, Jade headed across the yard to where the boys waited, through a blast of October chill. The Boss sang “Born in the USA” from Noah's truck.

Max was positioned between two teams of three, Asa riding on his shoulders. The boys saw her and cheered.

“All right, Coach Mom.”

Jade jogged toward the makeshift field. “Okay, it's three on three. These are the rules . . .” As she explained, Max caught her attention with his smile. Pearls of love drifted through her, warming her soul with its incandescent glow.

Max crouched with his hands on his knees, watching as Noah took the hike, dropping back, handing the ball to Calvin. Just four little yards and he'd be in the end zone. But the Lubbock Westerners blitzed. Hard. Unwilling to lose to the last-in-the-league Warriors.

Calvin tucked the ball away but ran into a wall of defenders, and instead of gaining four yards, he lost three. Driven back by a determined inside linebacker.

Max shoved his hat back on his head. “Time. Time.”

The clock on the scoreboard stopped. The score blared red: 9–7.

Noah led the offense to the sideline. Hines and Haley huddled around Max. “What do you want to do?” Hines said, scanning his play card. “Option to the weak side?”

“Coach, pass.” Noah pulled off his helmet. “I can see over their lineman a good two seconds before they blitz. Calvin will be in the end zone with the ball and all they think is blitz, blitz, blitz.”

“Calvin has been running into the same linebacker all night.”

Hines flipped his card over. “But their corner can run stride for stride with Calvin, Noah. He sees you set to pass, he's going to line up with Cal.”

Max glanced down the line. “Walberg, front and center.” He'd not called on Tucker since his three-field-goal-attempt calamity. But he'd been practicing.

Hard. This was their next to the last game and he only had another four quarters to make a goal this year. And Max wasn't leaving this season—leaving this team, this town, this short career if God willed it to end—without Tucker putting three on the board.

“Coach, we can do it.” Calvin jutted in front of Max. “I can cut around that corner. I know I can.”

“Haley, get your boys ready to defend the last two minutes and forty seconds of the game like they've never defended before. With any luck, we'll get the ball back and run the clock out. Kicking team, let's go, on the field.” Tucker jumped up, exchanging his bored expression for terror. “Walberg, let's go.”

He jumped into action, moving on reflex instead of heart. But Max grabbed him by the pads as he ran past and peered through his face mask. “Get rid of that fear, Tucker. Missing is all in your head. How many did you hit in practice yesterday?”

“Twenty.”

“So go out there and hit twenty-one.”

“Y-yes, Coach.”

“Concentrate. Follow through, head down. Keep those hips toward the goal. Kick that ball like you're a winner. Because, Tucker, this is for the win.”

Max shot his fist in the air and the team leaned into him. “Warriors on three.

One, two, three.”

“Warriors!”

The kicking team ran onto the field. Tucker brought up the rear, snapping on his chin strap.
Lift your head up, boy. Lift your head up
.

The fans stood with a mixed, mingling murmur of support.
Coach, what are you doing? Come on, Tucker
. Anticipation took the chill in the air down a degree or two.

Max scanned the stands for Jade. She watched with her hands balled at her cheeks, staring ahead. Mariah stood next to her, yelling, arms flailing, fingers pointing toward the field.
Sit down, Mariah. Cheer for your son
.

On the other side of Jade, Brenda bounced Asa on her hip. Then she moved, like a coiled snake, snatched Mariah's arm, gave it a twist and the irate mom melted down to the bleachers.

You go, Brenda
.

Max faced the field. “Let's go, Tucker.” Max stepped and leaned over the sideline, urging on his brave kicker. Whispering a prayer.

Haley lined up off his right shoulder. “Max, it's a twenty-four-yard kick.”

“He can do it, Haley. We can't get much closer.”

The ref whistled the play alive and Noah, the ball holder, encouraged Tuck by holding up his fist of solidarity. Then he called for the snap. The breeze landed on the field. The bleachers went silent.

Noah T'd the ball.

Tucker stepped, one, two, three, drawing back his kicking leg, his ankle straight, his plant foot pointed toward the goal. When he made contact, his hips rotated toward the posts and the ball arched end over end. High. Right . . . on . . . the . . . money.

Max's heart beat with each spiral. He was afraid to breathe.

The ball sailed through a bright wash of stadium light and for a second, Max lost sight of it. Then
whoosh
, it splashed into view and soared through the uprights. Smack down the middle.

The refs whistled and ran forward with their arms in the air. Good! The kick was good. The Warriors scored.

For a second, the earth stood still. Then the team erupted onto the field and the stands went wild. A stunned Tucker ended up buried under a pile of boys showing their undying gratitude.

Even Lubbock players applauded.

Finally pulled from the bottom of the pile, Tucker ran for Max, flying into him. “I did it, Coach. I did it.”

Max wrapped his hand around his helmet, drew him in. “I told you, you could. I told you. How's it feel to be a football player?”

“It . . . it feels awesome.” Tucker bucked back his emotion, but Max wouldn't blame him for bawling like a baby. A season's worth of tension and failure needed to be let out.

When Max let him go, Tucker ran to the fence, peered up at Jade who was jumping and waving. Mariah was nowhere to be seen.

“Defense, let's hold Tucker's lead.” It was only by one. But it was their one.

Haley ran past Max. “I'm on it, Coach. Defense on me. This is what we've been working for all year.”

He did it. Jade wiped away her tears. “Look at that, look at that,” Brenda muttered over and over.