Stranger in Town

Gabe’s mother never ceased to amaze him. She was unfailingly kind, eternally patient and always engaged in a worthy cause. He wondered how much money she’d raised for the various charities she’d supported over the years….

“Gabe!” she said, flinging open the door while he was still rolling up the walk.

Lazarus shot out ahead of him, and she gave him a good pat.

After the accident, his parents had hired a contractor to install a ramp. She placed a kiss on Gabe’s forehead as soon as he reached the top of it.

“Hi, Mom,” he responded. “How are you?” She looked great. She’d put on a few pounds in recent months. And her dark hair had begun to thin. But the sparkle in her blue eyes would always make her pretty.

“I’m fine. What a nice surprise to see you.”

“I was in town. Thought I’d drop by.”

“I’m glad you did. Come in and have some iced tea. Your father will be so disappointed that he missed you.”

Gabe halted before crossing the threshold. His mother was always trying to patch things up between him and his father, but Gabe wasn’t in the mood to put up with any coaxing. “Don’t start, Mom.”

She held the door expectantly and Lazarus trotted inside, his toenails clicking on the marble floor. “Start what?” she said.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, following his dog.

She led them into the kitchen and poured him a glass of iced tea, but she didn’t drop the subject, as he wanted her to. “Gabe, when are you going to put this thing with Lucky behind you?” she asked. “I can’t stand what it’s doing to you or your father. I want my family back.”

“A family that includes Lucky?”

“Why not? She’s just as innocent as you are.”

On one level, Gabe understood that and agreed. But the whole Lucky situation was simply too overwhelming to deal with right now. “I’m not trying to hurt her. I just want to be left alone. Live and let live.”

“She asks about you all the time.”

“Mom—”

“And your father—”

Gabe’s glass sounded as though it might break when he slammed it down on the tile countertop. “You’re worried about Dad? He’s the one to blame for all this.”

She usually backed off when he grew angry. But that wasn’t the case today. “You have to weigh a man by his whole life, Gabe,” she said gently. “Not one mistake. Anyone can make a mistake.”

No kidding. Had Gabe not been living with Hannah’s mistake, he probably could’ve taken his father’s in stride, the way his mother and sister seemed to have done. But he’d learned about his father’s affair, and the existence of his half sister, when the foundation of his life was already crumbling beneath him. He’d thought his father was the one thing—the one person—he could always rely on. Then Garth had made his shocking confession and Gabe had realized he couldn’t take anything for granted.

“He had an affair with the most notorious prostitute in town, Mom. Worse, that affair resulted in a child. How can you accept what he’s done?” He scowled. “God, I was out there campaigning for him, raising money by telling everyone that he has integrity and would make a solid congressman.”

He thought she’d argue that Garth would make a solid congressman. Deep down, Gabe really believed that, too. But she didn’t bother. “So this is about embarrassment?”

“Of course not. Public humiliation is only part of it,” Gabe said. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Lucky anymore. I came here to tell you I’ve got a job.”

“Really? Where?”

“Here. I’m taking over the Spartans.”

“That’s wonderful! Your father will be so—” She caught herself. “Even Reenie will be pleased to hear it.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

The phone rang. She raised one hand in a gesture that said she’d only be a minute and answered it. “Hello?…Yes, dear, I’ve heard. It is good news. I’m glad you’re happy about it. I know…He’ll be fantastic…Actually, he’s sitting right here so I’d better…Well—” she glanced at him and frowned “—actually, he’s in the restroom right now. Maybe he could call you later?…Right. See you on Thursday…We’ll have a good time…I always love shopping for antiques…Okay, then. I’ll talk to you soon…”

Gabe’s mood darkened as he watched her disconnect. “Who was that?”

She hesitated, obviously leery.

“Mom?” he pressed.

“It was Lucky.”

Lucky again. The most important people in his life had all grown close to her. With a sigh, he pushed his iced tea away. “I gotta go.”

“Gabe, don’t leave yet,” she said. But his sister came through the front door at that precise moment.

“Hey, I thought that was your truck Decided to act a little human and actually leave the cabin today, huh?”

Gabe didn’t respond. With a whistle, he called Lazarus and left.

SO WHERE WAS Kenny?

Hannah sat at her desk staring at the phone, a victim to the same nail-biting, stomach-knotting anxiety she felt almost every time Russ took the boys. She was afraid that her ex would get drunk and drive with Brent and Kenny in the car, fall asleep with a lit cigarette and burn down the trailer, or bring home a couple of vagrants who couldn’t be trusted around kids. There was no telling what Russ might do. He’d done plenty of questionable things in the past, some she knew about and probably lots she didn’t. Kenny and Brent and Russ’s family, especially his sister Patti, tried to cover for him, but Hannah had lived with Russ for twelve years. She knew what he was like. And she knew he’d gone downhill since the divorce. It was a travesty that the courts had made it impossible for her to protect the boys.

The phone rang and she snapped it up. “Hello?”

“Hannah?” It wasn’t Kenny. It was Betsy Mann, the woman who’d called nearly two hours ago to complain that Russ had been terribly late picking up Brent from his play date with her grandson, which made her miss her voice lessons. Hannah found it irritating that folks still expected her to apologize for Russ’s shortcomings. She and Russ had been divorced for nearly six years. But life in Dundee changed slowly, if at all, and today she was far more worried about the fact that Betsy hadn’t seen Kenny in the Jeep when Russ finally arrived. Had he forgotten Kenny or dropped him off somewhere? Hannah was betting on the former. Russ forgot the boys, or simply blew them off, all the time.

“Have you found Kenny?” Betsy asked.

Leaning forward at her desk, Hannah rested her forehead on the butt of her hand. “No. Russ isn’t answering. I haven’t been able to reach Coach Blaine, either. But Coach Owens told me Kenny was still waiting on the curb when he left.”

“Did you go over to the school?”

“Of course. I didn’t see him.”

“Maybe he tried to walk home.”

“There was no sign of him on the streets.”

Kenny was not a little boy. And Dundee wasn’t exactly a high-crime district. But an accident could happen anywhere. What concerned Hannah was that she knew he wouldn’t call her if his father didn’t show up. He tried to keep that sort of thing quiet so he wouldn’t stir up trouble.

“Marge over at Finley’s Grocery said that Gabe Holbrook’s the new head coach now that Larry’s passed away, God rest his soul,” Betsy said. “Have you tried him?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you have his number?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry. I called Celeste, Gabe’s mother, and got it for you, just in case.”

Sometimes people in Dundee were a little too helpful. But with Kenny’s welfare hanging in the balance, Hannah didn’t mind.

“He’s unlisted, you know,” Betsy was saying as Hannah rummaged through the drawer, looking for a pen. “Gabe’s such a big star he can’t publish his phone number for anyone to find. I happen to be good friends with Celeste, so she gave it to me the moment I asked. I help her with the crab feed for Safe & Sober Grad Night every year, you know.”

What Hannah knew was that Gabe wanted to avoid his old acquaintances as much as his adoring fans—and she suspected he wanted to avoid her more than anyone else. Especially after what had passed between them this morning. But she found a pen and took down his number. Maybe he’d seen Kenny get into a car with one of the other players. If so, at least she’d have somewhere else to look.

“Thanks,” she said and hung up. Then she traced the numerals of his number several times while working up the nerve to call him.

GABE SET his staining brush aside, used the remote to turn down the stereo in his workshop and leaned over to reach the phone. It had been a long day, filled with more interruptions than he’d had in the past year. It seemed like half the town had contacted him since practice. Some had questions about whether or not he was planning to significantly change the football program at DHS. Some put in a plug for one player or another, or wanted to analyze this year’s talent. Others simply called to say how grateful they were that he was stepping in for Coach Hill. After his little confrontation with Blaine, Gabe was grateful for the support. But he’d kept to himself for so long, he also felt bombarded, overwhelmed and more than a little rusty on the social skills.

“Hello?”

“Gabe?”

In the corner, Lazarus sat up.

“Yes?” It was Hannah. Gabe knew it instantly, and immediately feared that Mike had called her and made some type of suggestion that they get together.

He was considering breaking his best friend’s nose when she asked if he’d seen Kenny, and he realized he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Letting a sigh slip silently between his lips, he remembered the way Russ had acted when he’d pulled up that afternoon, and his anger turned to disgust. “His father picked him up at practice,” he said.

“Oh, he did?” He heard her relief. “I haven’t been able to reach them, so I wasn’t sure.”

Taking advantage of the fact that Gabe had stopped working, Lazarus walked over and nudged him. “He was pretty late, but he finally came,” he said, scratching his dog behind the ears.

“That’s good.”

“Glad I could help.” Gabe was eager to get off the phone. He’d dealt with enough people for one day—and he didn’t want whatever had happened between them this morning to raise its head again. He could already feel some kind of tension humming through the line. But she spoke before he could hang up.

“Marissa asked about you the other day.”

“Marissa?”

“My friend? The one I hung out with all the time in high school?”

That Marissa. How could he have forgotten her? She’d been one of the more determined girls-in-pursuit he’d known at Dundee High. Even the groupies who’d followed him around once he started playing in the NFL hadn’t had her perseverance. She’d asked him to the prom, after he already had a date, called him incessantly, sent him love letters, drove past his house three or four times a night. Once she even decorated his truck with hundreds of lipstick kisses interspersed with chocolate kisses. It had taken him hours to clean it off. “I remember…How is she?” he added when he realized his response had been a little too deadpan to be polite.

If Hannah noticed, she didn’t let on. “She’s living in Boise, married with five kids.”

“I’m happy for her,” he said. But he was even happier for himself now that he knew there was little chance of running into her, or once again becoming the object of her adoration. He’d expected his wheelchair to deter some of the women who’d chased him so brazenly, but the numbers hadn’t dropped significantly until he’d bought his cabin and disappeared from public view. He wasn’t sure what drew them. Maybe it was sympathy, the compulsion to feel needed, a craving for attention. Or maybe they simply saw dollar signs.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how he looked at it—he’d known since the accident that he wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship. He especially didn’t want to keep company with a woman who sought him out because of pity or greed.

“She’s doing well,” Hannah said.

There was an awkward lull in the conversation, but instead of saying goodbye, Gabe hesitated, thinking of what Mike had told him earlier. He wanted to ask Hannah if Russ had won any spousal maintenance. The idea of an able-bodied man like Russ living off Hannah really bothered him. But what had happened between her and Russ was none of his business.

“Well, have a nice weekend,” he said.

“Gabe?”

Lazarus yawned as Gabe brought the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering…”

Gabe’s muscles nearly cramped while he waited. What was she going to ask? Had Mike spoken to her after all? From the temerity in her voice, it certainly sounded that way. “What?”

“Is there any chance you’d—”

“No.”

Lazarus barked, probably in response to the tension he sensed in Gabe. Then there was a long silence during which Gabe wondered how to smooth over the rejection that had just shot out of his mouth.

“But you don’t even know what I was going to ask,” she said at last. “I mean, you make so much furniture. One chair can’t be all that important to you. Or, if it is, maybe you could make me one like it.”

That took him aback. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The chair on your front porch. I was hoping you’d sell it to me.”

Gabe blinked in surprise—and felt more than a little foolish. “You want my chair?”

“If I can afford it,” she said.

Smiling at Lazarus, as if his dog could share his embarrassment, he shook his head. He had Mike to blame for his false assumption. Maybe his vanity had something to do with it, too, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a woman had asked him out. “You can have it,” he said.

“No…I wouldn’t feel good about that. I’d rather…can you name a price?”

Gabe had no idea what to charge her. He’d never sold any of his furniture before. And he didn’t need the money. He thought giving her the chair was a great idea. It could stand as a token of his goodwill, so she could go on with her life without carrying any baggage from the accident. Then, whatever happened—whether he walked or he didn’t—it would be his problem exclusively.

“It’s no big deal,” he said. “Really. I’ll drop it by tomorrow after practice.”

“Now I’m embarrassed I even asked.”

“Why?” He began scratching Lazarus again.

“Because I can’t take it unless you let me give you something in return. What if we worked out a trade?”

His hand stilled. The suggestion piqued his interest, if only to see what she might offer him. “What kind of trade?”

“I don’t know…Do I have anything you want?”

Gabe waved Lazarus away and straightened in his chair. Was he the only one whose mind was suddenly painting erotic pictures? “Give me some suggestions,” he said. Since the accident, he’d tried very hard to cram his sex drive and anything related to male/female intimacy into a single compartment in his brain, a compartment he no longer used. Yet that innocent question from Hannah had his heart pounding as he imagined her naked beneath him, his lips gliding down her flat stomach….

She seemed to realize that what she’d just said could be misinterpreted and sounded embarrassed when she scrambled to clarify. “I mean, I’m a pretty good photographer. I could do some portraits of you.”

“Of me?”

“Why not? You could use them as Christmas gifts for your folks, or put them inside Christmas cards.”

Now that he had allowed the sexy images in his mind to take shape, he was having difficulty brushing them aside. Certainly, getting his picture taken sounded like a poor substitute for what he’d been thinking. He didn’t send out Christmas cards, and he wasn’t sure he’d be spending the holidays with this folks this year. Even if he changed his mind, a portrait was about the last thing he wanted to give them. “No thanks.”

“I could photograph Lazarus.”

“Uh…” He arched a questioning eyebrow at his dog, who’d returned to his favorite corner and was yawning again, then chuckled softly. “I love Lazarus, but I’m not really the type to hang up a big photograph of my dog.”

She didn’t try to talk him into it. She immediately moved on to something else, which strengthened his suspicion that she was working hard to compensate for the “Do I have anything you want?” blunder. “Then maybe I can cook for you. You’ll be busy now that you’re coaching, right? If you like, you could swing by and pick up your dinner after practice each day, then heat it up when you’re ready to eat.”

Gabe didn’t want to be distracted from the life he’d plotted out for himself—especially by the type of images he’d just entertained. But he knew Hannah’s offer wasn’t really about a chair. Despite the years that had passed, she was still looking for some way to feel better about her part in the accident. “I guess we could try it,” he said. “I could give Kenny a ride at the same time if you like.”

Hannah quickly agreed and seemed eager to discuss the details. But Gabe knew almost instantly that he’d made a mistake. He might have given way to Mike’s pressure to take over the Spartans, but that didn’t mean he had to let other people intrude in his life.

“Gabe?” she said when the conversation began to wind down.

“What?”

“What did you think I was asking for earlier?”

“When?” He already knew the answer—when he’d given her a resounding “no” before she could even finish the question—but he hoped to buy himself some time.

“When I was asking about the chair.”

No good answer presented itself. “Oh, something else,” he said vaguely, then added a quick, “I gotta go.” He hung up before she could press him, but the memory of her voice lingered in his mind as Lazarus followed him into the house. He’d let her cook for a week or so, he decided, as he changed into his T-shirt and shorts so he could work out. Then he’d thank her, insist it was enough and get back to growing his wheatgrass.

CHAPTER FOUR

GENERALLY HANNAH DUCKED her head and tried to go unnoticed whenever anyone mentioned Gabe Holbrook. There were too many folks in town who hadn’t yet forgiven her for destroying their favorite football star. She suspected they were more upset that they could no longer bask in his reflected glory than they were about his loss. But they often shook their heads and tsked when she passed by, especially at the beginning of football season and in the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl.

Today, the mention of Gabe’s name made Hannah as self-conscious as ever. When Trudy Johnson started talking about the new coach at the high school, Hannah cursed silently and raised the cookbook she’d brought into the hair salon. She should’ve expected the town to be buzzing with the latest news. Folks in Dundee took school sports very seriously. Here, the high school coach possessed almost as much clout as the mayor.

“I never dreamed he’d accept the position,” Trudy was saying.

“I know!” Over the top of her book, Hannah saw thirtyish Shirley Erman crane her head around even though Ashleigh Evans was trying to put perm rods in her hair. Saturdays were always busy at the beauty shop. “He’s been living like a hermit for three years,” she said. “Then, suddenly, he’s the new coach of the varsity football team? I mean, I hate that Coach Hill passed away, but I think it’s great Gabe’s willing to take over.”

Hannah agreed. In her opinion, Gabe needed to feel passionate about something again, to regain his zest for life. But she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she wanted to draw attention to herself and suffer through that awkward moment when the others realized that she—the person who’d ended his career—was sitting only a few feet away.

“He’ll do a good job.” Rebecca Hill was giving Trudy a short jagged cut that looked far too Vogue for a little town in Idaho, but that was the beauty of Rebecca. She was artistic and dramatic, and she followed her heart. Since marrying Mike’s brother a few years ago, she’d grown slightly more conservative, especially since the birth of their baby. But she’d never be plain or boring. And her salon reflected that. Gone was the faded candy-cane-striped wallpaper and pale pink vinyl of the beauty parlor Hannah remembered from her childhood. Now the salon was decorated in black and white and chrome, had a checkered floor, sleek, contemporary lighting, and vases filled with exotic flowers. Recently, Rebecca had even changed the name. After she’d remodeled and expanded to include facials, electrolysis, massage and aromatherapy, Hair and Now had become Shear Temptation. Located next to an old-fashioned drugstore on one side, and a redbrick bank on the other, Shear Temptation looked like a spaceship parked between two Model T’s.

“Being a good player doesn’t make someone a good coach,” a voice nearby responded.

A quick peek around her book told Hannah that Deborah Wheeler, one of Coach Blaine’s daughters, had made that comment from a seat in the waiting area closer to the front desk.

Hannah had been so absorbed in trying to go unnoticed that she hadn’t seen Deborah come in. She lowered her cookbook. “Being a good player doesn’t make someone a bad coach,” she said, rushing to Gabe’s defense in spite of herself. Now that he was venturing back into society, she wanted to make sure he received the support he deserved.

Everyone’s gaze momentarily fixed on her. She waited for someone to mention the accident but, thankfully, nobody did.

“I just want what’s good for Gabe,” Shirley said, turning back to Deborah. “If coaching will give him fresh purpose, I’m all for it.”

“Even if he’s not cut out for the job?” Deborah countered.

“Even if he doesn’t win very much,” Shirley said. “My husband might disagree, but I say we can’t expect every season to be as good as the last few. Gabe needs this.”

Deborah had a thin, angular face. Now she pursed her lips as though it tried her patience to deal with folks obviously less educated than herself. She taught Honors English at the high school and acted as if she knew everything. Some of the ladies in town made fun of her, but she had her admirers. “Gabe doesn’t need this job,” she said. “He made millions while he was playing football. And anyway, no one should get a coaching position out of pity.”

Hannah opened her mouth to say that with a record like Gabe’s he’d hardly landed the job on pity, but Rebecca answered before she could. “Pity has nothing to do with it! Gabe’s well-qualified.”

Deborah shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” Hannah asked.

“Think about it.” She set her magazine on the table. “Making Gabe head coach places him in a position where he has everything to lose and nothing to gain. He doesn’t need the money from the job—”

“This isn’t about money,” Rebecca interrupted.

“—and if the team wins, so what? We’ve won plenty of times in the past without him.” She tilted her head at a jaunty angle. “But let’s look at what happens if the Spartans have a bad season. Now there’s a story. Poor, crippled Gabe Holbrook takes on his old high school team, a team with a winning season nearly twenty years in a row,” she was careful to emphasize, “only to watch them lose again and again. Which could happen. He’s an untried entity. So my question is this—do we really want to risk seeing Gabe fall any farther off his pedestal? The accident nearly destroyed him. What’s he going to do if he fails at this?”

Hannah suspected Deborah was actually more afraid Gabe would succeed. “He won’t fail,” she said.

Deborah folded her arms across her nearly flat chest. “You don’t know that.”

“I, for one, am proud of him for trying,” Shirley said. “People who won’t attempt something for fear of failing, cripple themselves. At least Gabe’s not doing that. His handicap was caused by an outside source.”

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.”