Eagle River (9 page)

Cam glanced at the clock, too.
Not much time was left.

Odgers stared determinedly down the field. He checked out the defensive formation of the Wildcats.

“He’s gonna throw,” Cam muttered sitting up. “He has to throw.”

The Wildcats were clearly expecting him to throw, too. The ball snapped to Odgers who dropped back, looking for a receiver, but they were blanketed. Then, his eyes fixed on the end zone, he started running.

“Quarterback sneak!” Cam yelled, but the Wildcats clearly could not hear him.

The Wildcat defensive line began to scramble when the players realized that Odgers was making a run for it, but it was too late.

Odgers was rocketing along toward the end zone. His stride grew with every step. His long legs devoured the yardage remaining.

Cam sucked in a breath.
The kid was not only blessed with a golden arm but rockets for wheels! It just wasn’t fair. Why did a kid like that have to have all the breaks and I don’t get shit? Kjersten is still hung up on him. Even Coach Murray loves the kid.
Odgers was nearing the end zone, but Cam saw a defender coming fast. The two hit hard. Odgers’ feet were down, but he had come short of the end zone. Still, Cam had had enough. In disgust, he got to his feet and headed up the stairs and out of the stadium. 

* * * *

The game was over and Eagle River had lost.
I feel weird. That last hit was rough.
Galen pulled off his helmet and his eyes travelled over the crowd.
I won’t look for her. I won’t!
Still, his gaze was fixed on the stands. He glimpsed Ben making his way down. Then, Ben’s figure was blocked out as a camera was shoved into his face.

“Have you made any decisions about next year, Galen?” A blond reporter demanded.

“What do you think of Milwaukee Jefferson and Marvin Richardson?” another demanded.

Galen ignored the questions that rained down on him. His entire attention was focused on the stands. He’d seen Ben, but where was Kjersten?
Had she come?
He saw Ben turn back, as if hearing someone calling for him, and then he moved back up into the stands. He watched as Ben stopped and stood talking to someone. The person rose and Galen made out that familiar tall, slender shape and that fall of silvery hair.
She’s here! Kjersten came!
He watched as she stood up and followed Ben.

“That was awesome!” Seamus, an Eagle River defensive end, pounded Galen on the back.

“We lost,” Galen commented, still staring up into the stands. He couldn’t be sure because of the distance, but it seemed as if Kjersten was looking right at him, too.

“Good game, boys, good game.” Coach Murray pushed his way through the crowd. “Galen,” Murray clapped him on the back. “You worked hard. Nothing to be embarrassed about. There’s no such thing as a good loss, but we played hard.”

Galen didn’t respond.
Where had Kjersten gone? Would she speak to him or just leave?

“What’s with him?” Murray gestured at Galen.

“I don’t know, Coach.” Seamus shrugged.

“Make room. Make room.” Coach Murray interpreted the blank, searching expression on Galen’s face. “The boy took quite a hit. Give him some air!”

Galen felt Coach propelling him along towards the bench, but his attention remained fixed on the stands.
Kjersten.
He couldn’t make out the features of her face, but the way that she carried herself and moved remained the same.

“Galen, boy, you in there?” Coach Murray placed his hands on his shoulders, pushing him down into a seated position on the bench.

Galen felt strangely detached and separate from his body.
It feels like I’m in a dream.

As he watched, Kjersten tentatively raised her hand and waved.

He tried to raise his arm to reciprocate, but it felt heavy.
Too heavy to raise.
When he didn’t respond immediately, her arm dropped.

“Galen. You all right?” Murray squatted down right in front of Galen, blocking his view and tilted his chin up. He looked into his eyes, trying to make him focus on his face. “You hearing me okay? Nod your head... Where’s the trainer?” Murray shouted as he stood up.

“Let me through,” a thin, hard bodied, older woman pushed her way through the crowd that had formed around the bench. “What’s your name, young man?”

He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. “Galen Odgers. I’m okay.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. You took quite a hit on that last play. Look at my finger,” the trainer ordered, holding her index finger just in front of Galen’s eyes. “Now follow it with your eyes.” She ran a few other quick tests on him and then stood up.

“Is he okay?” Murray asked.

“I think so. His eyes are tracking correctly. Still, we need to check him out,” she explained to Murray.

“Yes, absolutely,” Tom agreed.

So, Galen sat on the bench, doing as he was told. Then, when the trainer was satisfied that he was in reasonable condition, he rose to his feet and followed Murray and the trainer down to the locker room. The entire time, he couldn’t stop thinking: “I wish she knew I tried to wave back.”

Chapter Ten

Bearcat

~ Galen ~

On a bitterly cold Friday evening in January, while Galen toweled off following his shower, he could hear bits of the raucous conversation downstairs. He made out Kyle’s tenor and Sandra’s loud, joyous laughter, as well as squeals of joy from her children, but he couldn’t make out the words. He rubbed his head vigorously, and buttoned up his pale blue shirt. Next, he pulled on a clean pair of Wranglers, a pair of socks, and then grabbed a boot brush and swiped at the most offensive crud on his Ropers. Perfunctorily, he combed the half inch of hair that covered his head, and splashed some cologne into his hands and then onto his neck and his face. Galen liked to smell good, particularly after an evening of work in the cow barn. Then, he headed down to the kitchen.

“That you, Galen?” Coach Murray’s voice boomed out in greeting as Galen strolled into the kitchen.

Coach was sitting near the front door, stogy in hand. The kitchen was unusually clean looking and smelling. With guilty pleasure Galen noted that Joe, Sandra’s school teacher husband, who was compulsively tidy, had been at work.

“Thanks for cleaning up, Joe,” Galen commented to Joe who was runner thin, blond, and chronically cheerful.

“No biggy. But you guys gotta watch the dates on some of the stuff in your fridge. The sour cream in there was more than a month expired and had some nasty green stuff growing in it.”

Galen inhaled deeply through his nose. The air was pungent with a rich mixture of cigar and ribs. “You made ribs.” His eyes closed, as he savored the smell.

“Well, it’s a special occasion, right? What the heck are you wearing?” Joe burst out laughing.

“My Christmas present to him,” asserted Sandra with a characteristically raised eyebrow that challenged her husband.

“And a fine looking shirt it is.” Joe nodded.

Kyle chuckled. “Whipped. You are whipped, Joe.”

“I prefer to see it as well trained,” Joe countered. “And appreciative of your sister.”

Kyle pretended to gag.

“No sense in irritating the chef’s wife,” Tom commented.

“Joe knows I’m teasing. How much longer will it be?” Kyle asked. “It sure smells good.”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Watch Joey.” Sandra commented about their stocky, tow headed toddler who was clinging to his father’s leg. “Don’t trip over him.”

“I have my eyes on him,” Joe responded as he stepped away from chopping vegetables, scooped his son up in his arms and tossed him into the air.  The toddler squealed in delight as he fell back into his father’s arms.

“Anyone want something to drink?” Kyle held up his glass that was empty but for ice. “I’m getting more whiskey and coke.”

“Where’s Pop?” Sandra asked.

“In his room.” Kyle answered.

“Isn’t he coming out?”

“You want to get him, Galen?” Sandra asked.

“Leave him be.” Kyle replied.

“Just make him a plate.” Galen agreed. “You know he doesn’t like this kind of thing.”

“He should be out here, with his family.”

Kyle sat back down with a refreshed drink in his hand. “When are you going to just let it go, Sandra? Dad’s been checked out for years. He doesn’t want to be out here with us. He never has. Here, Joe.” He handed a cold beer over to his brother-in-law.

“Thanks,” Joe responded, popping it open.

“But he should...” Sandra began.

“Just let it go, hon,” Joe said. “You’re not going to change him now.”

Shaking her head in frustration, Sandra nodded.

Galen kicked the toe of his ropers against the leg of the table. He glanced up at Coach, somewhat embarrassed.
Why can’t Dad just be decent?
We should all be used to it now, to him, but it still bugs me.

“Joe, how do you think the Packers are gonna do this year?” Tom asked, clearly trying to direct away from a sensitive subject.

“You mean besides being demolished by the soon to be Central Division champions, the Minnesota Vikings?” Joe countered.

“You’ve lived here for seventeen years and you’re still not loyal to the green and gold?” Tom marveled.

“I’ve about given up on you, Joe,” Kyle muttered. “This fool brother-in-law of mine walked into a hole in the wall bar just outside of Superior, wearing a Vikings cap. We were lucky to get out of that place alive. Damn near caused a riot. You would have thought that I burned the flag.”

“The Packers are America’s team,” Tom asserted.

“I don’t know about that. My Vikes are looking sweet this year,” Joe argued.

“What a load of bullshit. America will never get into a team that wears purple. Even the folks over in Minneapolis don’t give a damn about them. The Dome is never filled. I’ll bet there are more Packers in Minnesota than Vikings’ fans any day,” Kyle argued.

“The Vikes will come through this year. I feel it in my bones.”

“Don’t a couple of your old buddies work for the Pack?” Kyle asked Tom.

“A couple of guys I used to play with coach down in Green Bay,” Tom said and nodded, reaching for a handful of chips from the bowl in the middle of the table.

“You ever go over to Green Bay?” Kyle asked.

“Sure. Their new offensive coordinator, Larry Kinpac, was the quarterback coach for Philadelphia when I played there. He’s a good guy.”

Kyle studied the way the mahogany tones of the whiskey became clearer higher up in his glass. “If you’re ever thinking about heading over to Green Bay again, for an afternoon or something, give me a call. I’d sure get a kick out of seeing those guys and I could probably get someone to help me out here for a few milkings.”

Galen glanced from Kyle to Tom.
Wow
. Kyle never asked for anything.
Please say ‘yes,’ Coach. Please.

“You got it,” Tom answered. “You’d be doing me a favor. I’d like the company for the drive... Now Galen, you’re the man of the hour. Have you made any decisions yet? I thought I was invited over to celebrate an official decision. So let’s have it.”

All eyes zoomed in on Galen.

“I’m going to be an Illinois University Bearcat.”

For a few seconds, everyone remained still, silent and surprised. Tom was the first to recover. He stood up. “Congratulations.” He grabbed Galen in a bear hug, though the younger man stood stiffly throughout, as if braced for an onslaught.

“Why Illinois U?” Sandra queried softly. “I thought you always dreamed of being a Coyote or a Badger.”

“The Bearcats are weak at QB. I’d get to play next year.”

“You’re not going to red shirt a year?” Kyle demanded incredulously.

“I’m going to college to play ball. I want to play ball. Not watch.”

“But you’d play in a year or two anyway at Great Lakes University. Cam Fawst is two years older than you are, right?”

“For me, it’s going to be Illinois U,” responded Galen firmly without wavering. “I’m not going to sit on a bench behind that asshole again. I did that for two years in high school and I’m done with it.”

For a moment, everyone froze, processing the anger and hostility in Galen’s voice.

“Okay, then, baby brother.” Kyle met Tom’s gaze. Tom shrugged eloquently.

“I just kinda wanted to see an Odgers play in the Coyote Den,” Kyle referred to the stadium at Great Lakes University. “And Chicago is farther away than Milwaukee.”

“Kyle’s just being difficult because he’s going to miss you, Galen. The kids, Joe and I will come see you,” Sandra inserted.

Galen eyed Kyle cautiously, hoping for some sign of acceptance.

“All right, Galen. If Chicago is the place for you, then what’s a couple of hours’ drive?”

“Pop?” Sandra asked. “You joining us?”

Everyone turned to see Jim Odgers standing in the doorway that led out to the living room.

“Hey Pop!” Kyle threw an arm over his brother’s shoulder, swinging Galen with him until they stood facing their father. “Pop, did you hear the news? Galen’s going to be a Bearcat!”

For his part, Galen inhaled the whiskey scent of his brother’s acceptance with relief.

Jim Odgers looked confused. “What’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it great?” Sandra exclaimed.

“Football, Jim,” Tom broke in. “We’re talking about football. Galen accepted a scholarship to play football for Illinois University.”

“This football stuff always seemed kind of foolish to me,” Jim muttered.

“For Christ’s sake,” Kyle exclaimed, the hostility to his father that always lingered just beneath his surface burst through. “Galen could play pro ball. Don’t you get it, old man?”

“It just don’t make any sense to me. Grown men playing games. You grow up and you take responsibility. That’s the way that life is.”

“You mean the way you do, Pop?” Kyle observed sarcastically. “Sitting in the house drinking the day away. Doing nothing.”

“Kyle,” Sandra cut her brother off. “We have a guest.”

Jim didn’t say a word. “Boy, you don’t know nothing.” He stood as tall as his oldest son, but his shoulders were stooped, his frame, ghastly thin, except for the protruding belly. His hands were gnarled and cut up with wounds that his diabetes slowed the healing on. His face was weathered far beyond his fifty odd years. The shattered blood vessels of the confirmed alcoholic lined his sunken cheeks. Jim stared directly into his oldest son’s eyes with an identical pair of bright blue ones. “You don’t know nothing.” Slowly, he turned. “I’m going outside for some air. It stinks in here. Don’t hold dinner for me.” He turned and limped out of the room.

“It’s the truth. Everyone knows it.” Kyle said defensively. “He hasn’t done a thing since the accident. It’s not like he’s not capable. He could do something, but he chooses not to. But I’m done with it now.”

“He does have brain damage from the car accident.” Sandra defended her father.

“And from the drinking,” Galen put in.

“Sandra, you know Pop shut down on life years ago, even before the accident,” Kyle said.

“I don’t know why Mom stayed with him,” Galen said.

“Maybe she felt sorry for him,” Tom offered.

Sandra glanced sharply over at Tom. “He’s right, you know,” she explained to her brother. “Mom didn’t think he’d survive without her.”

“So she took care of him until she got sick, too.” Kyle said. “I still think she would have been better off without him. We all would have been.”

“Just let it go, Kyle,” Galen broke in.

“Things are going to change now,” Kyle announced. “I’ve given up enough years of my life for this farm. Thing are going to be different.”

“What do you mean?” his brother asked.

“Well,” Kyle began.

“Are you all ready to eat?” Joe broke in, responding to his wife’s raised eyebrow prompt.

“We do have a guest,” Sandra reminded her brothers.

“The ribs are ready.”

“Yes, let’s eat,” Sandra agreed. “Let’s not talk about this now. We have a guest.”

“I’m hardly a guest,” Tom commented.

The subject was dropped. So, following dinner and a couple of hours of after dinner conversation, Galen wandered out to the old horse barn, to be alone. He had always felt at peace there. As a kid, he had liked to listen to the sounds that horses made at night; the gentle snorts and the dull thumps of their hooves in the straw. The horses were long gone now. Kyle had been forced to sell the two Belgians that they’d raised as a 4H project several years before. He hadn’t wanted to, but he couldn’t afford to keep the two hay burners around when they weren’t used much except at Christmas time to give wagon rides at a nearby Christmas tree farm. Galen still missed the sweet, warm smell of their big bodies, the aroma of dusty, salt-sweaty, furry bodies. There was still a hint of it in the air, but almost overpowered by the reek of diesel fuel and exhaust that lingered in the enclosed space. Galen walked over to the empty, cobwebby stall and leaned his elbows up against the bottom half of the Dutch door. He had run to this place that horrible night his mother had told him that she was no longer in remission from the cancer.

In tears, he had run of the house and then to the barn. There, he had buried his face in Jethro’s coarse mane. But she’d come after him.

“Galen, nothing’s certain. I don’t take what those doctors say as Gospel. They don’t know everything. Only God does. It’s going to be okay.” Jessica Odgers had reached out to touch her son, but he’d pulled away, sobbing fiercely.

“Mom, it isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair.” He had hiccupped between words. “You just got done with all that chemo stuff and surgery. You should be okay.”

“I was better, honey, for a while. But it just didn’t last. The cancer has already spread. It was too late. The doctors just didn’t know it. It’s gone all through me.” Her amber brown eyes had filled with tears, but his mother had remained composed. “Galen, you gotta be strong for me. I need your help. So, please don’t turn your back on me now. I’m here right now.” Her voice had caught, she swallowed a sob. Then, she’d reached out, pulled her youngest son to her, and hugged him fiercely. He had hugged her back desperately, then had buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed bitterly.