A Husband for All Seasons

“When you came to town with the Jon Preston group, we both suspected that you were our child for you looked exactly like Perry did at that age. Then we learned that you were adopted—and that your parents were the Reeces—and little doubt remained.

“Perry was determined to tell you that we were your parents, but I didn’t think it was fair to the Reeces. I’d given you to them, and we agreed to say nothing. But the Reeces knew my name. And when we all met at your last college game, they knew who we were. They volunteered to let us share your life, and we’ve been grateful for that.”

Through clenched teeth, Chad said, “Shouldn’t I have had a say in that? I was old enough to make my own decisions. Was it right to treat me like a child?” Even as the words left his mouth, Chad realized he was acting childish now.

He heard Lorene’s quick intake of breath, and he knew he had hurt her. Shattered by his own physical and emotional injuries, he had the desire to hurt someone else. If he lashed out at others, that might ease his own hurt.

But he didn’t think he could ever forgive either set of parents for deceiving him.

In all fairness he had to admit he had always told the Reeces that he didn’t want to know. So why did he suddenly feel as if the whole bottom had dropped out of his world?

He made no gesture to stop them as Lorene picked up Amy, and his biological family left the room.

Chad didn’t see Perry or Lorene the next day, nor did Vicky Lanham show up as he had hoped. His parents spent the day in the room with him, but fortunately he dozed a lot. Apparently aware of his mood, they didn’t force a conversation.

The surgeon came in late afternoon.

“You are doing great,” he said, “and so is Mr. Saunders. Your body is accepting the transplant remarkably well. There’s no reason you can’t live a perfectly normal life, if…” He paused and again Chad sensed deep compassion in the doctor’s voice and eyes.

“If?” Chad prompted. “If what…?”

“If you give up contact sports,” the doctor said bluntly.

“I’d rather die,” Chad said without hesitation. “Football has been my life since I was a kid.”

“I know,” the surgeon said. “I’ve seen you play. You play with your whole heart, and I can understand how you feel. I know what it would mean to be told I could never perform another operation. I’m only telling you the truth. You might play out the rest of your NFL contract and never have another accident, but I doubt very much if the management will let you do it. Even if they wanted to, it’s too great a risk, and probably no one would insure you.” He squeezed Chad’s hand. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

The surgeon shook hands with Stewart and Betty, wagged his head sadly and left the room.

“Please go away,” Chad said to his parents. “I don’t want to talk to anyone now.”

“I don’t think you should be alone, son,” Mr. Reece said. “Especially tonight. Let me stay with you.”

“I don’t want you to stay. I’m sorry, but I feel betrayed. If you had told me when I first met Perry and Lorene, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But to let me go on without telling me is more than I can forgive right now.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Mr. Reece insisted.

“Then ask the girl who has been sitting with me to come stay. I just can’t be around the two of you right now.”

Chad hated himself for hurting these two people who loved him and had given him a happy childhood. But to gain another set of parents and to lose his lifetime dream in less than two days was more than he could bear. His parents. Who were his parents in a case like this? Would Lorene and Perry expect him to call them Mom and Dad now?

But his heritage was a minor problem when he considered a future without football. What would he do without football? He had more money now than his parents had made in their entire life. He had invested his income wisely. He wouldn’t have to work another day as long as he lived.

But what kind of future was that? He had always had something to do. He had started working when he was a boy—carrying newspapers and delivering groceries for the neighborhood store in Alabama where his father worked. In college, he couldn’t have a job and play football, too, but he had worked out regularly in the gym and studied to make good grades. Not to mention the long hours of practice. No, Chad Reece, or should it be Saunders now—had never been a loafer.

And he didn’t want to start now.

Vicky was surprised that she had been asked to sit with Chad again, and she dreaded seeing him. Chad had lots of fans on the staff of the hospital, and the word had spread like wildfire that his football days were over. How could she comfort him in the discouragement that must be eating at his spirit? She prayed she could help him, yet now that she was faced with the task, somehow it seemed so daunting.

She walked quietly into Chad’s room. A large arrangement of roses from his team’s managers and coaches dominated the nightstand, and the room smelled like a greenhouse. The light over the bed was off, but the hall light shed a dismal reflection around the room. There was enough light to see Chad lying with his hand over his forehead, half shielding his eyes. Tears trickled in tiny rivulets over his face. The injury had been sustained such a short time ago, and to look at his muscular body no one would suspect that he had had such a serious operation.

Vicky watched him for several minutes. Her face flushed when she realized she was spying and that Chad probably wouldn’t want her to see his tears. She backed out of the room, knocked and reentered. He hadn’t changed at all. Knowing he was awake, she went to the bed and touched the hand that lay across his brow.

He seemed to know instinctively who it was. Without opening his eyes, he said, “I’m not asleep. Thanks for helping out. I’m doing great, physically, but my parents insisted that I should have someone with me, and I didn’t want them. I’m out of sorts with them at the present.”

Vicky laughed lightly as she put down the tote she carried, took off her denim jacket and hung it over the back of the chair placed close to his bed.

“I understand that. I get out of sorts with my mom and dad sometimes, too.”

“If I could go to sleep and forget about it, I’d be happier, but I’ve slept a lot today. Besides my head is spinning with all of the things I’ve heard in the past few hours.”

She lifted his bed slightly and put a pillow behind his shoulders. She held a glass of water to his mouth and he took a few sips through the straw. She sat beside him.

“If you want to talk, I’ll be happy to listen. If you clear your mind you can probably go to sleep.”

With a slight grin, Chad said, “Well, you asked for it.” He hesitated, not knowing if he was willing to share his newfound knowledge with anyone. Still it would be easier for him to talk to a stranger—someone he probably wouldn’t see again.

“I’ve known as long as I can remember that I was an adopted kid, and I didn’t mind at all. That is, until today when I learned that I’ve known my biological parents for a few years—have been good friends with them—but didn’t suspect who they were.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Perhaps it shouldn’t, but I must have been naive not to have suspected it before. My biological father is my kidney donor. My adoptive parents contacted him as soon as they knew how serious my condition was. He and my ‘real’ mother came right away.”

“Why does that upset you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Then sighed. “I suppose I’m mad at myself because I hadn’t suspected before. My mother said that she suspected I was her son immediately because I look like my father. And it’s true. I feel like I should have noticed my physical resemblance to Perry long ago. I was really rotten to both sets of parents, and that bothers me more than anything else. And I’m not normally…like that.”

“I’m sure they understand. You’ve had a shocking experience, not only physically, but emotionally as well. No one expects you to act like nothing has happened.”

Now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’ve never doubted that it was God’s will for me to play football. Now I wonder how I got the wrong direction. My dad didn’t want me to play football, but when I was so determined to play, he didn’t discourage me. That’s one reason I love my parents so much—they always put my welfare before their own. They adopted me because they wanted a child. Up to now, they haven’t had any reason to regret it, but I feel like I let them down today.” He sighed again. “It’s not easy managing anger and guilt at the same time.”

“It will work out, Chad,” Vicky said, realizing that she had used his first name, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe it was God’s will for you to play football for a while. He may have other plans for you now.”

“Do you really believe that? I mean, has that been true in your life?”

Vicky squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, thankful that the lights were dim in the room so Chad couldn’t see her expression. His problem and doubts had touched a sensitive place in her heart. At one time, she knew without any doubt God’s will for her life. But she had gotten sidetracked. She and Chad had more in common than he knew. Of course, her injury was an emotional one. She thought fleetingly that if she told him about her hang-ups it might give Chad a lift.

“I’ve had problems with my directions, too, but they’re not as fresh in my mind as yours are. You talk tonight and I’ll listen.”

Chad talked most of the night about his childhood. The early years in his parents’ home. The summer he had worked with the Jon Preston band and had met Lorene and Perry in a small Kentucky town. He had been drawn to them immediately, never dreaming they were his parents.

“After they moved to California, I didn’t see them often, but we kept in touch by telephone and e-mail. All of that time, my parents…” He paused and in the dim light, Vicky saw pain cross his face. “…didn’t give any indication of my heritage, nor did Perry or Lorene.”

“I have a feeling that none of your parents will expect you to change your relationship with them. I’m sure the Saunders won’t expect you to start calling them Mom and Dad. If they’ve kept the secret of your birth from you all of these years, they won’t expect any more from you than you’re willing to give.”

“They tried to talk to me, but I brushed them off.”

“That’s understandable. I know you’re not asking for advice, but why don’t you come to terms with your injury and the change in your future before you concern yourself with your family relationship?”