The Bridge to a Better Life (9 page)

“That’s a good start,” her mom told her with a smile. “He’ll need people around him to help him get through this. I called his parents when I heard about Adam. I wanted you to know that. And I want you to know I’m going to go say hi to him after Caro and Mo head back to Denver.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” she responded, and even she heard the coolness in her voice.

“Natalie, I love Blake and think he’s a great guy, but you’re still my daughter. I love you no matter what.”

But was that really true? After all, her mom had just told her she was a lot like her father, and no one in the family was too fond of him at the moment.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, speaking over the part of her that was screaming:
Thanks? Seriously? She just took you to the woodshed, you idiot.

“Make peace with your sisters. They only want what’s best for you.”

“I will.” She had to. They were her best friends.

“Good.” Her mom kissed her on the cheek, but there was something hesitant about the gesture. They’d lost the precious ability to be natural with each other, and Natalie’s heart broke a little more.

As soon as they went inside, she sought out her sisters. They partially turned away, like they were expecting her to walk past them. Heart rapping hard in her chest, she bore her shoulders back and faced them down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For what I said earlier. Please forgive me.”

Caroline sighed and reached for her. She squeezed her eyes tight, letting herself enjoy the sensation of her sister hugging her tight. They were going to be okay.

“I’m sorry too. You’re our sister and best friend. You have our support, whatever you choose.”

She pressed her face into the curve of her neck. When she turned to face Moira, she immediately knew her younger sister wasn’t going to be as forgiving.

“I really am sorry.”

“I am too,” Moira said, “but I hope you can understand where we were coming from.”

So, Mo was going to hold her ground. Why wasn’t she surprised? “I heard you. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on it. I don’t want it to hurt our relationship.”

“It won’t,” Caroline said, sensing the fragile truth was being threatened.

Moira had a stubborn Irish streak a mile wide, and being in human resources, she knew how to speak her mind and handle conflict. Caroline, on the other hand, wined and dined nervous artists and prospective sellers at the art gallery where she worked in Denver. She was a pro at telling people what they wanted to hear to get her way, not that she was ever mean or under-handed about it.

“Can I simply ask that we not talk about Blake?” That was the only way she saw this working.

They exchanged a look.

“We won’t ask if you won’t tell,” Moira said.

“What are you drinking?” Caroline asked to smooth over the increasing tension between them. “I saw Terrance bring you something special.”

Now she could finally take a real sip of her drink, and she did. A healthy one. “It’s a Manhattan with the most divine cherries in the world.”

“I hate maraschino cherries,” Moira said, and Caroline nudged her.

“Maraschino cherries give all cherries a bad name.” Because they were her sisters, she fished out one cherry apiece for them. “Give these a try.”

Caroline made a moaning sound. Moira’s eyes widened, probably at the bourbon, which wasn’t her favorite, but then a pleasurable sound popped out of her mouth.

“What are you moaning over?” Jill asked, rushing forward. “Please, tell me. It’s been a while.”

“Red,” her husband called out in an aggrieved voice. “Please don’t make me come over there and give you something to moan about.”

Jill blew him a kiss. “I love teasing him,” she said conspiratorially. “It only makes him work harder when we get home.”

Natalie snorted out a laugh. Her cousin had an uncanny ability to cut tension.

“Maybe you can steal Terrance’s cherries and take them home with you,” Natalie said, giving Jill a sly wink.

She linked their arms together. “I love where you’re going with this. Come on. I can distract Terrance with my Latin moves, and you can steal his cherries. He slaps his hand over his eyes every time I do the salsa. The poor man can’t stand me talking about the Latin dance lessons I gave him in his quest to win Elizabeth back.”

“Probably because he felt humiliated,” Natalie said, even though she’d been a happy spectator at the dance class where Terrance had strutted his stuff.

“It worked though, didn’t it?”

As they walked to the kitchen, Natalie glanced back at her sisters, who had hung back. Moira was talking with her hands, and Caroline was nodding.

Sure, they were talking again, but all was not well.

Not one bit.

Blake was humming when he got home from a thirty mile bike ride up Sardine Canyon that had made his legs shake toward the end. Touchdown greeted him with happy barks. A sense of loss—heavy and deep—suddenly rolled through him when he realized what tune he was humming: the Raiders’ fight song.

The sight of the pine trees crawling up the stone of the mountain, swaying in the gentle summer breeze, was beautiful, but paired with the stark quiet inside him, it reminded him of how drastically his life had changed.

There would be no more running out onto the field with his teammates to do battle as nearly 40,000 people cheered. There would be no more team practices, no more joking around with the guys between plays to keep things light. There would be no more two-minute drills, preparing the team to surge forth to victory when they were losing. The glory was behind him.

He looked at his hands, his best friends for most of his life. They weren’t going to ache or cramp anymore from too many passing drills. They weren’t going to feel electric as he palmed the ball before he launched a fifty-yard pass. God, what was he going to do with himself all day?

His football camp was only going to be one week in July. Sure, there were plenty of preparations to make, but his people would be doing much of the work under his guidance. What else could he do in Dare Valley? He’d risen at six o’clock to start his day for over thirty years. Now, he was up at the crack of dawn with nothing more to do than run ten miles, bike in the mountains, lift weights, and do some yoga. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to be enough.

Even if Natalie… Correction.
When
Natalie came back to him, he would need to have more of a purpose.

Time.

He’d struggled against the clock for his entire professional career. He knew how long a minute or a second could be. How the action in that tiny speck of time could change an outcome.

He had too much time on his hands in Dare Valley and that had to change. Kelly had sorted through the offers that had come pouring in while he was in Vail, and new proposals continued to arrive by the hour. ESPN, Fox, and CBS had all wanted to meet with him to discuss a future as one of their NFL commentators. He’d turned them down nicely. He knew one thing for sure. He didn’t want to
comment
on football.

Of course, there had been tons of endorsement offers, some of which he could do without too much hassle. And then there had been the offers to coach. His old high school in Ohio had said they’d love to have him as their head football coach, and while he appreciated that—and the twelve other high school offers—it would mean living somewhere other than Dare Valley.

He’d received offers to serve as an assistant offensive coach in both the college and professional leagues, but again, he’d have to leave Natalie to do it.

Part of him still wasn’t sure he could make it as a coach. He wanted to see how well the camp suited him first—whether the role fit his skin, so to speak. Once he knew, he could face the geography issues.

The most interesting job offer had come in from the Special Olympics. He’d been a long-time contributor, so they already knew a great deal about Adam. After hearing about his camp, they’d asked if he would consider becoming the lead athletic director for flag football for North America, working with the various state chapters. But again, the job was at their headquarters in Raleigh, North Carolina, and it would involve a fair amount of travel.

The truth was, he needed more time to see how things would shape out with Natalie. Right now, he wanted,
needed
to be close to her.

Once camp ended, he would allow himself to look toward the future. Or—and his heart sunk to the floor at the very thought—once it became clear he and Natalie weren’t going to get back together.

He’d told Special Olympics that while he appreciated their offer, he was still trying to settle into his new life. They’d agreed to keep the door open for him and had offered their assistance with his football camp. Their support had meant the world, and he’d agreed to help them out with any smaller projects pro bono, so long as it didn’t involve travel. They’d asked for his feedback on their new flag football manuals, and he was stoked. It was a start.

“All right, Touchdown. I’m finished moping.” He smiled at his dog, who was busy chasing off a few squirrels. “Are you as thirsty as I am?”

The dog barked and scampered back to him. They were about to head inside when a blue Subaru pulled into his driveway. April Hale emerged from the vehicle with a soft smile on her face. Her salt-and-pepper hair was shorter than he remembered it, chopped to her chin, but it looked good on her. She wasn’t wearing her ring, he noticed, and he supposed it was something they had in common now. His own ring sat on the table by his bed, waiting for the moment when Natalie would slide it on his finger once again. He was a firm believer in the power of positive thinking. Most days.

“Hi Blake,” she said as she came across the gravel drive. “And hello Touchdown. Hope it’s okay I came by.” The dog rolled onto his belly immediately, and she gave him a few strokes before standing again.

“Of course, April. It’s always good to see you.”

He’d hoped she would come see him, but he’d realized it might be a pipe dream. April loved her kids first, last, and always, but she’d made room in her heart for Blake as another son.

“Blake, I was so sorry to hear about Adam. There are no words to say how much. He was such a dear man. I’ve been thinking about you and your parents a lot.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling his throat grow thick. “That means a lot. Mom said you’d called. She and Dad were grateful to hear from you.”

“No parent should have to bury a child. Come here, honey,” she said and hugged him.

She was at least four inches shorter than Natalie, so he had to lean way down to hug her. Touchdown nestled against his leg, sensing he needed the comfort. He wiped away a few tears and sniffed when he shifted away from her.

“Well, now… You’re still looking fit as a fiddle, I see,” she said, playfully pinching his bicep like she’d often done in the past, trying to bring some humor into the tense moment.

He shrugged his shoulder, playing along. When Kim had been in the hospital, there had been a steady stream of joking or teasing to lighten the mood. He and his family had done the same with Adam. Otherwise, the atmosphere would have been too oppressive to bear.

“My friends are wondering how soon I’ll start to get fat now that I’m not playing.” Even he knew retirees lost some of their muscle mass, so he was trying to make peace with the change. No one could maintain the bulk of a professional athlete without
being
a professional athlete.

“I can’t imagine you ever getting fat. Not that you wouldn’t still be cute as a button with a few extra pounds around the middle like the rest of us.” She patted the small rise of her belly.

“Come on, April. You’ve had five kids, and you still look fabulous. Will you come inside for a drink?”

“I’d love to,” she said and followed him into the house. “How do you like it here? I imagine it’s a big change from the Denver house.”

Yeah, and he loved that place almost as much as he’d prized his first football. He planned to keep the house until he knew what his future held, but he would have to make a decision about it at some point. Without Natalie in it, it was like a faded old door, stripped of its original glory.

“This is fine.”

In truth, none of this new house felt like him. It was almost like he was living in a hotel suite with four acres. He planned to build a new place once he and Natalie reconciled, or at least that’s what he dreamed of doing. Sunlight streamed in through the skylights in the vaulted ceiling, and the mahogany wooden beams crossing the ceiling gleamed in various shades of brown and red. The architect of this two-story craftsman had favored an open-rustic floor plan. There were worse places to live.

“What can I get you? I have water, juice, beer.”

“How about a beer?” she said and laughed when she saw his expression. “Just kidding. Water is fine.”

He added a lemon to it to be fancier and grabbed one for himself too. Drinks in hand, they headed out to the open flagstone deck in the back, where they settled onto the comfy tan patio furniture arranged in a square near the grill station and fire pit. The hot tub gurgled softly off to the right.