The Hero (14 page)

“You are,” she said. “I have some charts to enter. So as long as I’m here, I’ll answer the phone and add appointments to your roster for next week.”

“And I’m going to grab a cup of coffee, then head home. I’ll probably see you there when you pick up Mercy. Unless you’d like her to stay over so you can be alone with—”

“No! I mean, no, thank you. It’s not that kind of date.”

* * *

Scott could’ve had his cup of coffee at the clinic—they had a pot on. Or he could’ve gone out to the beach bar and had a beer to go along with his self-pity. Instead he went to the diner where he found Gina behind the counter and only a few teenagers in a back booth.

“Hey, I don’t usually see you this time of day,” he said, sitting in front of her.

“I’m usually long gone by now, but I’m covering for Ashley until four or so. She’s been out on the bay with a couple of her friends and Eric, her father.”

“That must be kind of interesting, being reunited with her father.”

Gina laughed. “There’s no ‘re’ about it—Eric took off when I was three months pregnant. We were kids...he ran far and fast. I found him last spring when I was looking for medical history for Ash—I realized I knew nothing about his side of the family and thought I’d better get some basic information. That got the ball rolling and they wanted to meet.”

“I didn’t realize,” Scott said.

“I raised her alone, with the help of my mother,” she said.

“What’s it like, seeing him again after so long?”

She shrugged. “He just says a quick hello if he’s going to be spending a little time with Ashley. And he’s not too intense about it—he sees her every couple of weeks. They’re developing a nice friendship, I think. But for me? Amazing how much water has gone over the dam. Life goes on.”

Not always, Scott thought. “You know, you and I had a couple of dates, right before you married Mac...”

She smiled. “We did.”

“Got any girlfriends? I’m not doing that great in the dating department. And I’d like my life to go on...”

She tilted her head and smiled sympathetically. “Scott, are you sure you’re ready?”

“My wife died almost four years ago....”

“I know. But everyone is different. Maybe it’s taking you a while—no shame in that. Be patient—when the perfect woman comes along, everything will fall into place.”

“How am I going to know the perfect woman if I don’t even date a potential perfect woman? I was just building up to asking Devon if we could go out to dinner and someone jumped in line ahead of me!”

Gina laughed.

He put his elbow on the counter and leaned his head into his hand. He groaned. “Shit. I’m pathetic, right?”

Gina poured him a cup of coffee. When he finally looked up, she was smiling. “Scott, you’ve known Devon for a while now. She’s worked for you for over a month. You keep her three-year-old in your home. If you had the hots for her, it wouldn’t have taken you this long.”

“It takes hots?”

She nodded gravely. “It takes hots. Right now you’ve got a real cozy deal—a nice new clinic, a good babysitter, from what you say an excellent clinic manager, plenty of time with your profession and your family, everything covered, everything handled. You’re free and clear—when the right woman shows her face, you’re ready. You’ll know it in minutes. Until you’re really ready, you might not recognize her.”

“What makes you think I’m not ready?”

Gina smiled. “You really want to hear this? Be sure, because I’m not real crazy about saying it.”

“Lay it on me. Please.”

She put her hand over one of his. “Our two dates? Were very enjoyable. You’re a very good date. And I was interested in your life, your relationship with your wife, and your kids. But you talked about your wife through two entire dates.”

He was stricken silent for a long moment. Really, he was shocked. Had he done that? He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Jesus, did I do that? Aw, I’m sorry, Gina.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I was in love with Mac. I had been for years. I just didn’t think he felt the same way, which is why I was very happy you asked me out to dinner. And I mean it, I enjoyed myself. I like you. But I knew right away, you’re not ready to move on. Scott, I think you need to give yourself permission to accept some things—your children are young. You were with your wife for a long time before they came along, before she died. I know you’d like to be in a nice stable relationship again and I know you’re frustrated, but you’re not ready. You still want to be with your wife. Until you run into someone who makes you see a whole new possibility, a whole new kind of life, it just isn’t going to happen. And lucky for you, too, because if you force this you and the new wife are going to have a third person in your marriage.”

He just looked down. “You might be right. But this is getting old.”

She surprised him with a laugh. “Tell me about it,” she said. “I spent sixteen years between lovers.”

“I don’t have that kind of time,” he said glumly.

“Oh, Scott, you have as much time as it takes. Let yourself off the hook. It’s okay if it takes a while to be ready to move on.”

“Got any suggestions on speeding up the process?”

“I’m sorry. No. But can I reassure you about one thing? As long as it took you to ask me out, as long as you’ve been working up to asking Devon out, neither of us was The One.”

“Really? And how does that explain Mac?”

“Well, the short version of that story is that not long after we met, he kissed the daylights out of me and we were both a little overcome. I was ready for that, more than ready. But Mac, whose wife had left him with three small children, was terrified. And he had this secret plan—he was going to use sheer willpower to keep away from any kind of romance with me until he felt safe, like until our girls had graduated from high school and were college bound.” Then she smiled very widely. “I think my couple of dates with you might’ve made him decide to take a risk or two. When it came down to a choice between being together or being alone and safe, he took the chance.” She sighed. “We were in love from the start. We just had lives that were too complicated.”

He lifted his coffee cup and sipped. “You should be a bartender,” he said. “Does everyone tell you their troubles?”

“Pretty much,” she said, pouring herself a glass of ice water. “And I don’t tell anyone anything. But in a few more years, when I finish my master’s, I’m going to start charging for my advice.”

* * *

Spencer arrived right at seven, balancing a pizza box on one hand and a six-pack of cold beer in the other. And the minute she saw him, she could feel her eyes light up, which made her cheeks blush just a little. He came inside and saw Mercy sitting on the sofa in her nightgown with a couple of her books. She looked at him and said, “What’s that, Pencer?”

“Pizza. Are you going to have a taste before you go to bed?”

She nodded and gave him a shy smile.

“Then come on, we’ll have it in the kitchen.”

She jumped off the couch and hurried behind Spencer. He was right at home, putting the pizza on the table, opening a beer and asking Devon if she’d like one. The pizza smelled so good she thought she might drool. She closed her eyes and just inhaled, making him laugh. “You don’t splurge on pizza, do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “But I make decent meals, just inexpensive ones. Oh, God, that looks so good. Brings back memories of school days and lots of pizza.” She grabbed plates, napkins and a knife to cut a small slice for Mercy. “Do you need a fork?” she asked him.

“Seriously? No way. That’s just wrong. It’s a hands-on dinner—just hands.” He sat down next to Mercy and gave instructions to her. “This is how you do it,” he said, lifting a slice and aiming at his mouth.

And she copied him, but the bite she took was very small and suspicious.

“She’s had pizza before, just never from a box.” She took her own bite and almost swooned. “Love pizza. Love, love, love pizza.”

“You okay with the toppings?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, chewing happily. She swallowed and said, “I want to hear all about your week. Your team, your training.”

“I saw you sitting in the bleachers during one of our practices. What did you think?”

“You work them hard. But they don’t look too bad. I wasn’t there long but I saw some decent passes, a few good kicks. And you looked pretty...relentless.”

“Most of those boys have been weight training in the off-season. They’re eager, that’s for sure. I had a good team in Texas, and a good booster club, but let me tell you something about this town—football is important to them. It’s necessary. It took me two days to see what Coach Rayburough meant about this high school and this town. They don’t have all the advantages of a bigger school in a bigger, richer town. We’ll go into this season with less training equipment, fewer personnel and with a team that has more personal responsibilities than the typical player. The academic requirements to play here are set higher, most of them have part-time jobs and family responsibilities, but they’re committed. And determined. I called a meeting this morning—purely optional on a Saturday morning. Just a meeting to talk about nutrition, weight training and some plays they probably haven’t seen, and every single one of them was there.” He took another big bite of pizza. Then he told her about the trip he made to Bandon to a big health food store to buy a special grain-and-nut mixture, heavy carbs to mix with fruit and yogurt as a start-up fuel. They talked about the importance of minimizing fat in their diets and doing all the other things to ensure their diets provided the correct sustenance for them to work hard on the field.

He would be talking to interested students about taking on training positions on the team, and told Devon he had asked Scott to be the team doctor on a volunteer basis.

And she was completely intrigued.

“I’m boring you,” he said with a laugh.

She shook her head. “Not at all. I love football. It’s as complicated off the field as on.”

“This team is going to go up against some big, talented kids. Kids with better equipment in some cases. It’s going to take more than a good playbook to keep these boys safe, strong and healthy.”

Mercy wandered away, back to the sofa with her books and the blanket she liked to sleep with while Devon and Spencer finished the pizza and continued their conversation. When he took a pause she dared say, “I wasn’t the only one watching your practice. Do you have an admirer?”

He frowned. “Ms. Benjamin? The half-naked history teacher?”

Her eyes flew wide and she gulped. “Teacher?”

He took a drink of his beer and nodded. “Showing her body to the student body. I’m surprised she’s getting away with that in a small town like this.”

“Oh, boy, you’re not happy.”

“I have a plan. I’m going to remove her audience. When she shows up in her little tiny panties, we’re leaving the field. If I have to, I’ll change the practice schedule.”

“Kind of sounds like you don’t like little tiny panties....”

His eyes darkened. “Depends who’s wearing them. And no matter who’s wearing them, sharing them with twenty-five young men during a training session isn’t exactly classy.” He tilted up his bottle again. “Did it bother you?”

She shrugged. “I played volleyball in high school. Our uniforms were kind of skimpy. But not that skimpy. And I ran track—again, we didn’t want much wind resistance so our gear was fairly brief.”

That made him smile. “You do like sports.”

“What’s not to like? Someday, when I get things together a little better, maybe I’ll get back into it.”

“No athletics the past few years, I take it?”

She laughed. “I lived on a small farm. Trust me, my muscles were worked plenty. But I’d rather play soccer or softball or run to get my exercise.” She turned to look into her little living room. “My pizza girl is out like a light,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll take her to bed and tuck her in.”

When she returned to the living room, Spencer was lying flat on his back on the floor. “Spencer!” she said, leaning over him.

“Did I mention my back is killing me? To say nothing of my knees, calves, shoulders?”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

He rose up on his elbows. “Yes. It’s the same at the start of every season, trying to keep up with boys half my age, trying to make them feel inadequate and competitive so they’ll push it a little harder. Quite frankly? I’m getting too old for this shit. But, God, it gives me a rush. Every new team gives me a rush but they’re killing me.”

She laughed at him. “Sounds like you’re the one who needs off-season training.”

“That’s just it, I keep up. I work out. They still hammer me when football training starts.”

She got down on her knees. “Roll over. And remember I don’t do this for everyone.”

He lifted one brow in question, but he rolled over.

She started to massage his shoulders, first softly, then with more depth and strength. “I don’t think there’s anything better than muscles that are stiff and sore from a good workout.” He groaned appreciatively and she laughed. “One of these years you’re going to have to stop showing off in front of the high school boys.”