The Choice (32 page)

With Maria out of the car, Sandy gave full rein to thoughts about Jeremy and his family. Questions rose so rapidly in her mind that she didn't have time to come up with possible answers. After arriving home, she fed Nelson then turned on her computer and searched for “Jeremy Lane Attorney.” The first few hits provided little more than Jeremy's business address and phone number. When she found one that included personal information, the first item that popped up made her stop and stare at the screen.

“Born April 5, 1975, Atlanta, GA.”

Seeing the concrete information made Sandy feel light-headed. She'd not doubted who he was. The photo of him as a little boy in front of the house in Charleston settled that. But seeing his date and place of birth in black-and-white was like reading the news on a giant billboard. He'd gone to college at Furman University in Greenville, where he received a BA, magna cum laude, in English.

She smiled. “That's my boy.”

He attended law school at the University of South Carolina and had been a member of the Georgia bar for eight years. She continued to search, but to her disappointment nothing else turned up. She turned off the computer and sat back in her chair, completely drained. She'd been on an intense emotional high, and it was time to come down for a rest.

She brewed a pot of hot tea and relaxed in her favorite reading chair in the living room. Nelson lay at her feet. Sandy considered calling her mother, Jessica, and Ben to share her amazing discovery; however, she knew it wasn't the right time. Also, she enjoyed privately hugging her newfound knowledge close to her heart. Sandy took a sip of tea and looked down at Nelson. He was a safe confidant.

“Nelson, let me tell you what happened today,” she began.

The following day was football Friday. Normally, Sandy ran through the evening's cheerleading routine in her mind while she drank her morning coffee. Not today. The wonder of her encounter with her son flooded her kitchen with brightness. Still dressed in her pajamas, Sandy slowly stirred her coffee as she sat at the kitchen table. She was proud of the kind and gentle way Jeremy had treated Maria. Her cell phone beeped. It was Ben.

“Ready for tonight?” her brother asked.

“I think so.” Sandy tried to make her voice sound normal. “We're doing a tumbling routine.”

“Betsy and I are looking forward to it. Do you have any plans after the game?”

“I left it open in case some students invite me to join them.”

Rutland was small-town enough that students would go out to eat pizza after a game and occasionally asked their favorite teachers to tag along for part of the evening.

“If that doesn't work out, Betsy and I are going to have some folks over to the house. Nothing fancy.”

“Who's going to be there?” Sandy asked.

“You sound like the boys. Is there anyone you're trying to avoid?”

“No.”

“Oh, did you get in touch with the lawyer in Tryon?”

Sandy swallowed. “Yes. The student and I met with him late yesterday afternoon.”

“Nice guy, isn't he?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hire him?”

“Not yet. He told us what we needed to know at this point.”

“Did he tell you to stop helping the girl?”

“That didn't come up. We spent all our time focusing on the student and her situation.” Sandy paused. “And a little bit about Mr. Lane's family.”

“Yeah, he's got a couple of cute kids and a pretty wife. I delivered a disability policy to their home not long ago because she had some questions, and Jeremy wanted me to answer them in person.”

“Where do they live?” Sandy asked, trying to sound casual.

“On the south side of town. The house is nice but nothing fancy. I think they chose the area because it has the best elementary school in town. Also, you know how hard it can be starting up any new business.”

“I think he'll do well.”

“No doubt. Listen, I've got to run to a breakfast meeting with a client. Remember the invitation for tonight.”

Sandy went through the day resisting the wild urge to get on the school intercom to proclaim that she'd met her son! During third period, she noticed a young man in her class with a slight resemblance to Jeremy. Sandy gave him a big smile as he passed her desk. After the room cleared of students, Maria slipped in.

“Are you feeling better?” the student asked.

“Yes,” Sandy said. “But don't worry about me. Did you talk to Rosalita about the meeting with the lawyer?”

“Yes. My father came over to her house, and I asked him about adoption. He does not like that idea.”

“Why not?”

“The baby would go to a stranger we do not know and might not be taken care of.”

Sandy frowned. Maria's father was being hypocritical. If he'd cared more for his own daughter, he would have shown a higher level of concern about letting a group of unsupervised men live in the trailer with her.

“What did Rosalita think?”

“She is like me and does not know.”

Two other female students entered the room to see Sandy.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Sandy said to Maria. “We'll talk later.”

Maria left, and the students pulled papers from their backpacks.

“Ms. Lincoln, we have questions about the comments you made on our papers,” one of the girls said.

“Let me see what I wrote,” Sandy said.

Only a portion of Sandy's mind was present with the students. The rest of it was with her newly discovered family twenty minutes away.

Like the football team, the cheerleaders assembled for a Friday night pregame meal. Of course, the two groups didn't meet in the same place. Putting the girls and boys together would have created a major distraction that neither Sandy nor Coach Hampton wanted.

The cheerleaders met in the banquet room of a restaurant where the local Rotary Club met each Thursday. The booster club paid for the meal. Sandy, wearing a gray sweater and red woolen slacks, arrived at 5:30 p.m. Several of the girls were already there. Dick Dressler, the owner of the restaurant, greeted her at the door.

“Thanks for hosting us,” Sandy said.

“Glad to do it. Do you think we have a chance against Butler County? They have a running back who may go to Georgia next year. He's a real brute.”

“I don't know, but the cheerleaders are going to perform a tumbling routine that really pops.”

The rotund man wiped his forehead with a dish towel. “Sandy, you could get more out of our team than Coach Hampton. He's too predictable. Always runs on first and second down and ends up with third and long. High school quarterbacks can't be consistent enough to convert in those types of situations. To have a chance tonight, we're going to have to score, and score in bunches.”

“Bruce Lowell should be able to get open tonight,” Sandy said. “I made sure he ran extra wind sprints yesterday.”

“You did?” Dressler looked surprised.

“Yes, he had a disciplinary issue in my class, and I passed along a note to Coach Hampton. Watch Lonny Mitchell too. He should be able to get to the line a fraction of a step sooner from his outside-linebacker spot.”

Dressler smiled. “I like the sound of that. Bruce can flat read a defense and find a crease. Lonny, on the other hand—”

“Can create havoc in the blocking scheme even if he doesn't get to the ball carrier. That enables Scott Nash to come in from his middle linebacker position and clean up the play.”

Dressler swore under his breath. “Sandy, you are all over it.”

“I've been watching Rutland County football games for over thirty years,” she said. “You can't help but pick up a bit of knowledge by osmosis.”

More girls entered the restaurant. Within a few minutes, the entire team had arrived. They stood in a large circle, and Sandy called on Meredith to offer a prayer for the meal. When she said “Amen,” the room erupted in noisy chatter as the girls made their way around the salad bar. Sandy sat at a table with Alita and another Hispanic girl.

“How do you feel about the routine?” Sandy asked Alita.

“I'm nervous. I don't want to mess up.”

“You won't. You were perfect during practice yesterday.”

“Not really. You weren't watching one time, and I got out of sync. Cindy cornered me later and told me if I wasn't going to nail it, I shouldn't be front and center.”

Sandy glanced over at Cindy Garrett, a smug, talented junior who expected to be named captain the following year. However, if she didn't improve her ability to encourage, not criticize, that wouldn't happen. Sandy leaned closer to Alita.

“Let's talk you through it.”

Alita listened and nodded her head as Sandy began to give a step-by-step summary of the routine.

“I need to remember to really arch my back at that part,” Alita said. “That sets me up for the next move.”

“Right. Remember to be as beautiful as you are strong.”

“The word is out among the Hispanic students at school that Alita has a big role tonight,” the other Hispanic girl said. “Everyone is going to be watching and yelling as soon as she starts.”

“Then feed off that energy,” Sandy said. “It makes me have chill bumps just thinking about it.”

Sandy always asked one of the girls to prepare a brief talk for the group. Most of the students hated it. Some came up with creative excuses to try to get out of it, but Sandy wouldn't budge. She knew public speaking was a fear that had to be faced head-on.

“Candace, please come up,” Sandy said. “We're ready to hear from you.”

The slender black girl walked to a wooden podium and faced her peers. Taking out a sheet of paper, she cleared her throat and began speaking in Spanish. Sandy's mouth dropped open. Candace's Spanish accent had a north Georgia lilt, but her meaning was clear to those who had taken Spanish III. She was celebrating the participation of the Hispanic girls on the cheerleading squad. Sandy, who was sitting at the front of the room, turned her chair to the side so she could see the reaction of the team. Those who didn't speak Spanish had puzzled looks on their faces. Two of the Hispanic girls were wiping away tears. Cindy Garrett looked pale. After three minutes, Candace stopped and repeated her message in English with a few additional lines thrown in at the end.

“I appreciate what Ms. Lincoln has taught us about accepting people from other cultures and encouraging them. The cheerleading squad is a team, not just a group of individuals, and I think what we've experienced together is something I'm going to carry with me the rest of my life. Oh, and Coach Lincoln didn't ask me to talk about this. Now, let's go out and do our part to beat Butler County!”

The Hispanic and black girls stood and clapped as Candace left the podium. When they stood up, the rest of the squad followed. Sandy smiled. It was a statement that needed to be made, and Candace was qualified to make it. Sandy went up to the podium. She resisted the urge to emphasize Candace's remarks. Instead, she went through a few housekeeping details. When she finished, the girls gathered in a circle, put their hands in the middle, and yelled, “RHS!”