Stranger in Town

Deborah’s eyes seemed to slice right through Hannah. “You should know all about that, right, Hannah?”

Hannah clenched her jaw. Deborah certainly wasn’t perfect. She’d had an affair with the band teacher at Dundee High four years ago, which had caused a small scandal and broken up two marriages. From what Hannah had heard, Deborah had regretted her actions almost immediately and tried to win her husband back, but he’d refused to reconcile. Hannah knew she could point to that mistake and say, “Everyone lives with some regret, Deborah.”

But what was the point? Deborah hadn’t stripped a man of his ability to walk. Hannah’s sin was far worse, and the guilt she felt wouldn’t allow her to defend herself. If only she hadn’t tried to pass on that curve….

Rebecca spoke up. “That was beneath even you, Deborah.”

“This isn’t about the past,” Shirley added in a conciliatory tone. “It’s about the future. We, as a community, need to stand behind Gabe.”

“Why?” Deborah cried, jumping to her feet. “Why is he any different from the rest of us? If I got in a car accident and was put in a wheelchair, do you think this community would do anything for me? No! Because I’m not some hotshot football player. Just because he can throw a ball eighty yards doesn’t make him any better than anyone else,” she said and stormed out.

Hannah turned to watch Deborah flounce down the street toward her car. Shirley joined her at the window. “I heard she wanted Gabe,” she mused. “But I didn’t believe it until now.”

“Do you think he rejected her?” Ashleigh asked. Still unmarried, Ashleigh generally kept tabs on every available man in town and sounded put out that something might have occurred that she didn’t know about.

Trudy rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”

Shirley ignored Trudy’s sarcasm. “He must have.”

Hannah set the cookbook on the seat next to her. “Deborah was in my graduating class. She had a crush on him way back then, but so did a lot of girls.”

“I bet he’s never even looked at her,” Shirley said. “Probably the only thing that made her think she finally had a chance with him was that wheelchair. Otherwise, he’d be so out of reach it’d be like crying for the moon.”

Hannah wasn’t sure that rejection was the reason for Deborah’s sniping. Probably had more to do with her father not getting the position as head coach. But Hannah could certainly understand why Blaine’s daughter might find Gabe attractive. There probably wasn’t a woman in town who hadn’t fantasized about him. He was strong, talented, intelligent and handsome. Really handsome.

Remembering the look in his eyes yesterday, that brief flash of something powerful and erotic, gave Hannah the same fluttery expectation she felt on a roller coaster as it climbed the highest hill.

There were times she wanted him herself.

But even if he could forgive her, she doubted he’d ever be able to forget what she’d cost him.

SHOVING HIS EMPTY plate away, Kenny shifted uncomfortably in the booth at Jerry’s Diner and told Brent to eat the rest of his hash browns. Their dad had finally rolled out of bed at eleven-thirty, so they were having more of an early lunch than a late breakfast. But missing breakfast wasn’t anything unusual when they stayed with Russ. This Sunday morning had gone pretty much like all the others—except that Kenny had dragged himself out of bed the moment Brent had gotten up to watch cartoons. Kenny hadn’t intervened when his little brother helped himself to a candy bar first thing, but no way was he going to allow Brent to get hold of another porn video.

Brent pushed his potatoes around on his plate. “I’m stuffed,” he complained. “I can’t eat another bite.”

Looking immediately to their father, who’d recently started growing a goatee to compensate for his thinning hair, Kenny said, “He’s done. Can we go?”

Russ hooked an arm over the back of the booth and waved for the waitress to come round with the coffee. “Of course not. Coach Blaine hasn’t arrived yet.”

Kenny wasn’t sure if Blaine would show. Kenny couldn’t see a man like him having much to do with Russ, even if they both wanted to see Gabe Holbrook give up the job he’d just taken.

“He should’ve been here half an hour ago,” Kenny said. “Something must’ve come up.”

“We’re in no hurry. We can wait.”

His father was never in any hurry. But Kenny didn’t want to wait. He didn’t really want to see Blaine. Growing anxious, he started bouncing his knee.

His father scowled at the movement. “Jeez you’ve got a lot of energy. Has your mother ever had you tested for ADHD?”

Russ had only recently learned of ADHD—and instantly decided he had it. He saw symptoms in everyone else, too, and was quick to suggest medication. Left to him, more than half the town would be on Ritalin.

“I don’t have ADHD, Dad.”

“Coulda fooled me.” He added cream to his coffee. “You fidget more than Brent does.”

That was an exaggeration if Kenny had ever heard one. Brent was pouring sugar onto the table right now. His father had to take the sugar dispenser away from him in order to sweeten his coffee, but he handed it back as soon as he was done. Russ let Brent do just about anything.

“Don’t you care that he’s making a mess?” Kenny asked, irritated that his father didn’t act more like…well, a father.

Russ shrugged. “I don’t have to clean it up.”

“Someone does.”

His father grimaced. “You’re sounding more like your mother every day, you know that?”

Russ accused him of that a lot, probably because Kenny couldn’t come up with a good answer.

“Anyway, he probably has ADHD, too,” his father said, jerking his head toward Brent.

Ignoring them both, Brent squeezed ketchup all over the sugar volcano he was building on the table. The mess bugged Kenny enough that he would have stopped his brother, but after what his father had said, he couldn’t—not without sounding more like Hannah than ever. “He doesn’t have ADHD, Dad. People with ADHD have trouble focusing.”

“I know,” his father replied, nodding emphatically. “I’ve been struggling with it since I was a kid.”

Kenny wished he could believe that. But it sounded like another convenient excuse—the latest in a long line of excuses. “Brent focuses fine. And so do I.”

His father leaned forward. “Then, why don’t you focus on having a cup of coffee and quit bitching at me for a damn minute?”

Kenny wasn’t particularly sensitive to bad language. He could swear with the best of them. But he didn’t understand why their father had to cuss so much in front of Brent.

He shot a quick glance at his little brother to see if Brent had marked it, and knew he had when Brent shot him a mischievous grin. “Dad—” Kenny started, but fell silent when Russ’s eyebrows clashed, making a solid slash of brown above his golden eyes.

“What now?”

Kenny stared down at his plate. “Never mind.” It wasn’t any use asking Russ to quit with the bad language. His father would only do it more, or say that he and Brent needed to come live with him before their mother turned them into complete pussies.

The waitress came around, but Kenny refused coffee. While she filled his father’s cup, he glanced at the other tables, and froze when he spotted Josh and Rebecca Hill seated in the far corner with Booker and Katie Robinson. Like his brother Mike, Josh was a good friend of Gabe Holbrook’s, and Booker owned the only automotive repair shop in town, so he probably serviced Gabe’s truck. Which meant, if Coach Blaine showed up and Kenny sat talking with him for any length of time, Coach Holbrook would probably hear about it. Because his father and Blaine acted as though they had some problem with Holbrook, Kenny didn’t want that. His mother had told him to give Holbrook his loyalty and, despite his worries about getting to play, he wanted to. Maybe Hannah had put Gabe Holbrook in a wheelchair, but the coach was still a man who could command respect regardless of what the accident had cost him.

Keeping his eye on the clock, Kenny forced himself to sit still for another five minutes. Then he appealed to his father once again. “Blaine’s late, Dad. I don’t think he’s coming. Can we go? Please?”

His father glared at him. Then, muttering, “I’ll bet my ass you do have ADHD,” he finally tossed twenty bucks on the table.

Briefly, Kenny wondered how his father had twenty bucks for breakfast when he couldn’t pay his child support this month—he’d heard his parents arguing over it just last week. But he didn’t want to think about any of the stuff that made him angry. He’d learned early on when it came to his father he had only two choices—he could cut Russ out of his life, or he could put up with him. There was no other alternative, and therefore no way to win. It was important to take his father moment by moment.

At least they were leaving the diner now. At least Kenny wouldn’t have to face Coach Holbrook at practice on Monday knowing—

“Sorry I’m late.” Coach Blaine loomed over them before they could even stand all the way.

Swallowing a groan, Kenny flopped back into his seat. Russ did the same as Blaine slid into the booth next to him, wearing a muscle shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. Although Blaine was probably in his fifties, he was a stickler for physical fitness. Today he was sweating badly enough that Kenny knew he hadn’t been late for any reason other than a morning jog. Obviously Blaine didn’t think this meeting was important.