The Lakeside Conspiracy (5 page)

CHAPTER 13

When Max got to the field house on Monday morning, he made a pot of coffee and checked his email, which he’d avoided over the weekend. After a brief talk with Michelle’s mother, he spent the rest of the weekend watching the film from the Fayetteville game and preparing the game plan for Siloam Springs.

The first email Max opened was from his boss, Bill Jackson, the athletic director. Bill wanted to see him at 8:00 a.m. He dreaded the meeting from the moment he read the email. There was little chance of it being encouraging. He knew Bill couldn’t have been happy about the game Friday night, but all Max could do now was focus on the next one.

At 7:55, Max left his office for the four-minute walk across the parking lot to his meeting in the main school building. As he approached Bill’s office, he saw Jack Murphy get into his Escalade and drive off. That only made him dread the meeting more.

Bill’s assistant greeted Max and told him to go right in. He entered the office as Bill was finishing up a phone call. He pointed to a chair for Max to sit down.

Bill’s assistant poked her head in and asked if either man wanted coffee. Bill did, but Max declined. He’d already had two cups. He’d been wondering if too much caffeine had been playing into the panicky feelings he’d been experiencing lately.

Bill ended the call and set his cell phone on his desk. “How are you, Max?” Bill asked.

“I’ve been better,” Max said. “Friday night was ugly.”

“Yeah, it was,” Bill said. “What happened?”

“They whipped us in every phase. Coaching included.”

“Uh huh,” Bill said while just staring at Max.

“I can’t change what happened,” Max said. “We especially need to get better on defense. After watching the film, I’m not sure how we held them to 50.”

Bill’s assistant brought his coffee and offered a bottle of water to Max, which he accepted. Bill took a sip and looked out the window. Across the parking lot was the field house and the stadium. “That’s a nice stadium, Max, isn’t it?” Bill said.

“It’s a great stadium,” Max said while thinking Bill was sounding a lot like Jack.

“And it would be a shame to not see it filled with people on Friday nights, wouldn’t it?” Bill asked.

The question seemed more rhetorical, so Max didn’t answer. He could see where Bill was heading. And it wasn’t looking good for Max.

“I know we’re just a small town, Max, but when we put a good product on that field, folks will show up,” Bill said. “But when we don’t, well, they just stay away. And so do their dollars. Dollars we need to run this athletic program.”

Max nodded and said nothing. It would be best to let Bill say what he needed to without trying to defend himself. Most likely whatever Bill had to say was what he’d heard from Jack five minutes ago.

“Max, let me just be honest with you. I’m starting to feel some heat,” Bill said. “Jack Murphy came to see me. As you can imagine, he wasn’t too happy about that performance Friday night. That stadium was his baby and he expected a better effort than what he saw from us.”

Max nodded his head while biting his tongue. He was afraid if he said something, it would be an explosion of four-letter words that would be heard down the hall. He’d love to tell Bill to grow a pair and not allow someone in the booster club to be telling him how to run his athletic department, but the reality was Jack Murphy had influence and could throw his weight around if he wanted to.

“We can’t have another 3-7 season, Max,” Bill said. “We can’t. We just can’t.”

“Mmm, hmm,” Max mumbled.

“I never told you this, but I went out on a limb for you, Max,” Bill said. “Jack pushed real hard for Dave Turner to get your job. That’s why I asked you to keep Dave on as your defensive coordinator.”

“I see,” Max said, afraid that saying anything else might cost him his job, which might be hanging by a thread anyway.

“Look, Max,” Bill said. “Let’s get this thing turned around. I believe you’ve got a good team. And you’re a good coach. Let’s beat Siloam Springs and get moving in the right direction.”

“I’d like nothing more,” Max said.

Bill stood up, put his hand out to shake Max’s hand and said, “Well, good, then we understand each other,” Bill said. He held onto Max’s hand an extra couple of seconds and said, “Mid-season coaching changes are a real mess, Max. We don’t want that.” He released Max’s hand and opened the door.

Max thanked Bill’s assistant for the water and left the office. As he walked across the parking lot, the sun was shining brightly, but his soul felt dark. The one thing that had always gone well for him was starting to slip away. Despite his failings at home, he at least had success on the field to hold onto, but now even that was in jeopardy.

Alone in the parking lot on a beautiful September morning to no one but himself, Max said, “No wonder my wife left me.”

CHAPTER 14

Max felt very positive about practice that afternoon. They installed a great offensive game plan and a few new wrinkles on defense. Siloam Springs was a good team, but it wasn’t going to be like playing Fayetteville or Bentonville.

The senior captains pulled the team together after practice and talked about how they did not want to be the first class in school history to suffer three losing seasons. Their goal was to win the rest of their games and make the playoffs. Max was proud of them for stepping up.

It was 6:25 p.m. by the time he left the field house. It had only been a few days, but he hated the thought of going home to an empty house. He stopped at Feltner Brothers’ newest location in Lakeside and ordered his favorite—a double cheeseburger with everything except mustard, an order of onion rings and an unsweetened iced tea. A little caffeine wouldn’t hurt.

At home, he took a bite of his burger and realized he was starving. He’d hardly eaten anything all day. As he ate by himself, he looked out the window into their backyard. A deer and her two fawns were nibbling at the grass along the tree line. He thought of the times, not that long ago, that he and Michelle and Sarah would sit at the table eating dinner while watching the deer eat theirs.

A lump formed in his throat, which made it hard to swallow. He set his burger down, picked up a napkin and wiped the tears from his eyes. At that moment, he would have given anything, anything in the world, to have Sarah back. He’d have given any amount of money. He’d trade any number of wins. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to have her back.

But Sarah was gone. She wasn’t coming back. And Michelle was gone, but at least she’d be back at the end of the week. Their marriage wasn’t much right now, but at least he wouldn’t be alone.

CHAPTER 15

Michelle had only been in New Jersey for a couple days, but was already feeling rested. She hadn’t realized how much the past few years had depleted her—emotionally, physically and spiritually. Sarah’s death had crushed her. Dealing with it alone made it a thousand times worse.

As she walked the beach and thought about the past few years, she couldn’t help feeling angry and hurt. She had needed Max desperately, but he had abandoned her. When she’d needed him most, he hadn’t been there for her.

Max had dealt with Sarah’s death by shutting down and shutting her out. She tried to help him through it, but he wouldn’t let her. The more she tried, the more he pushed her away. He retreated from her, from God, from everyone and everything, except football.

She tried everything she knew to do. She prayed. She supported him by going to his games. When the losses kept mounting, she tried to be even more encouraging. She read books on dealing with the loss of a child, saw a counselor, joined a support group and sought out other women for advice.  She followed through on everything she’d been advised to do.

She tried to get Max to talk, to share what he was feeling, to let things out rather than bottling them up. When that didn’t work, she backed off and gave him space to figure things out on his own. There was nothing she didn’t try to reconnect with him, but nothing had worked.

She looked at her phone. 6:18 p.m. No calls or texts from Max. He hadn’t tried to reach out since Sunday when he’d called her mother. Apparently, he’d gotten the message she wasn’t ready to talk. Still though, she would have liked to see a call or a text from him. Something.

She turned to head back to the house. She was meeting Chris at 7:30 at the Beachcomber Bar and Grill, which was a short walk up the boardwalk. They had great food and a great view of the ocean.

Back at the house, she put on her favorite jeans and a white tank top. After freshening up her make-up and putting her hair in a ponytail, she slipped into her sandals and went to the living room to tell her parents goodnight.

“Who are you meeting?” her mother asked.

“Just an old friend,” she said. “Don’t wait up.”

“Just be careful,” her dad said.

“I will be, dad,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.” She gave her mom and dad each a kiss before leaving.

It wasn’t until she reached the boardwalk that she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Chris since her wedding day fourteen years ago.

CHAPTER 16

Michelle arrived at the Beachcomber and checked her phone. 7:34 p.m. Still nothing from Max. She opened the door and went inside. Springsteen’s “Born to Run” was playing while the Monday Night Football pre-game show was on the screen over the bar.

She looked around and saw Chris sitting at the end of the bar. He immediately got up and came to greet her.

After a long embrace, Chris said, “You look incredible, Shelle.”

She smiled and said, “Thank you. You too.”

“Let’s go upstairs and sit on the deck,” he said.

The moon was beautiful as it rose over the ocean. The lights from a number of boats were visible just off shore. In the distance, a large freighter seemed to be barely moving as it headed down the coast from north to south. Michelle loved the smell of the sea and the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed the beach until I was back,” she said.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it when you called.”

A waitress came to their table and handed them each a menu and asked for their drink orders. Michelle ordered a glass of chardonnay. Chris ordered a brand of beer she’d never heard of.

“I’m starving,” Michelle said.

“Well, everything is good here,” Chris said. “If you like sushi, maybe we could share a couple rolls.”

“That sounds great,” she said. “Why don’t you order for us?”

When their server returned with the drinks, Chris ordered a Beachcomber Roll and a Green Dragon Roll with two garden salads.

They each took a drink and looked out over the ocean. It couldn’t have been a more perfect evening. There was a light breeze, but not enough for Michelle to need the light sweater she’d slipped into her purse.

“I was trying to think of the last time I saw you,” he said. “Was it your wedding day?”

“Hard to believe it’s been fourteen years, huh?” she said.

“Shelle, I heard about your daughter. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said and took a sip of her chardonnay.

They sat quietly for a few moments taking in the sights and sounds of a late summer evening on the boardwalk.

“I used to love coming to the beach in September,” she said. “No crowds. Weather was still warm. It was like time just slowed down.” She took another sip of wine.

If it was possible, Chris looked even better than he had in college. It was hard for her to not notice his arms and chest in his black t-shirt. He certainly hadn’t quit working out.

“What brought you back, Shelle?”

She drank some wine and set the glass down. “It’s a long story.”

He smiled and said, “I’m in no hurry.”

Their waitress brought their salads and asked if they wanted another drink. They did.

Michelle drizzled some dressing on her salad and took a bite.

“If you’d rather not go into it, I understand,” Chris said.

Michelle set her fork down and held her glass so the moonlight sparkled through it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of ocean air and slowly exhaled. When she opened her eyes, she looked at Chris who was watching her closely. “Things were good. We were happy. Until Sarah got sick.”

“What did she have?”

“Leukemia,” she said. “It was awful.” She sipped some wine. “We tried everything. Chemo. Bone marrow transplant. Special diets. Supplements. Every alternative treatment we found.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing worked,” she whispered. “She just kept getting worse.” She looked at Chris and could see his eyes filling with tears. “And after eighteen months of doing everything we knew to do, she died.”

“Oh, Shelle, I’m just so sorry,” he said.

“So I lost Sarah,” she said. “And then I lost Max.”

“Was Sarah your only child?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, we couldn’t ever get pregnant again. We saw several doctors. None of them had an explanation. Before Sarah died, we had talked about adoption, but never pursued it. We both kept hoping we’d get pregnant again.”

“I know that’s painful,” Chris said.

“Max didn’t handle Sarah’s death or our infertility well at all. He just kept getting angrier and angrier and more and more distant,” she said. “He wouldn’t talk about any of it—not about Sarah, not about the pain we both felt of not having another baby.” She paused for a moment. “I tried to get him to talk to someone, to see a counselor, but he wouldn’t do it. Our marriage has been dying a slow, painful death. Like Sarah did.”

Chris slid his chair closer to Michelle’s and put his arm around her shoulder. He hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” he said. He let her go, but kept his chair close to hers. “What have you told Max?”

“I told him I’ll be home by the end of the week,” she said. “I feel like I’ve given all I can give though. I don’t know if I can go back.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes and finished their drinks while watching the moonlight dance on the waves, interrupted only by their waitress clearing their salad plates and dropping off their sushi rolls. She asked if they wanted another drink. They both said they’d have one more. The sushi rolls were the best Michelle had ever tasted.

It was almost 9:30 when they finished dinner. Michelle tried to pay for her part of the check, but Chris insisted on getting it. She argued, but he held firm.

After he paid, Chris said, “Let’s walk down the boardwalk and get some ice cream.” Chris paused. “Like we used to.”

“On one condition,” she said. “You let me pay for the ice cream.”

“I promise not to argue,” he said.

They walked downstairs and turned north up the boardwalk to find some ice cream. As they walked, their hands grazed lightly against each other. And a moment later, their fingers were interlocked as naturally as they had been in high school.

Michelle could feel her life in Arkansas beginning to slip away. It was a feeling she wasn’t going to fight.