Just Joe (8 page)

"Joe, go find her
mother. Find a counselor."

Joe simply stood there,
agonized, and Mattie grabbed his arm and shook him. "Go
now,
Joe."

Joe bolted from the room,
and Mattie turned to Janie with a soothing word.

But she knew that no words
would ever erase the horror in Janie's mind.
           

The drive home passed in
total silence. Janie's mother had eventually calmed the little girl down and
assured Joe that he wasn't to blame himself for her reaction. Despite those
reassurances, the stricken expression had not left Joe's face, and it remained
there now. Mattie didn't know what to do to take that look out of his eyes, so
she remained silent and helpless.

It wasn't until they
pulled up in front of Mattie's cottage that Joe spoke. His hands were wrapped
tightly around the steering wheel, and he stared straight ahead with blank
eyes.

"The fear in her
eyes," he said softly. "Did you see it, Mattie?"

"Yes."

"I put that fear
there."

"No," Mattie
said, denying the bitter self-accusation. "No, Joe. Her father put the
fear there. You just—got in the way."

Joe made a bitter sound at
the back of his throat and turned to face her. "Got in the way. Yeah... I
wanted to help her," he burst out with sudden emotion. "I just wanted
to help her, to show her that not all men would... and instead I confirmed all
those fears."

"Joe, you're being
too hard on yourself." Mattie tried to console him.

"Am I?" Joe
questioned disbelievingly. "I scared Janie to death. I hurt you—I didn't
mean to hurt you, Mattie."

Mattie put one small hand
over his on the steering wheel in silent acknowledgement. She knew it would do no
good to protest that he hadn't hurt her. She could see the self-condemnation in
his eyes.

"You seemed to be
getting along so well with her before I broke in." Joe's eyes lit with
enthusiasm. "You really seemed to be reaching her. Maybe you could come
back with me next week and..."

"No." Mattie's
arms crossed her body in instinctive protection.

"No?" Joe echoed
disbelievingly. "But, Mattie, you could help her, I know you could."

"No, please Joe.
Don't force this. I can't help Janie. I really can't." She reached for the
handle to release the door, but Joe caught her before she could escape.

"Mattie, what are you
afraid of? What are you running from now?"

Mattie shook off his hand.
"Joe, I admire what you're doing at Jameson House. I really do. And I
would like to go back with you sometime. But I can't help Janie. Don't ask that
of me."

She had that look in her
eyes again, Joe thought bleakly. The one that said she was being chased by a
not-so-distant ghost. Joe studied her white face uncomprehendingly. He had
pushed against her stony walls and come away battered and confused—again. Would
he ever be able to scale their heights?

Mattie winced as yet
another linebacker piled onto the stack on top of Joe. Holding her breath, she
waited for him to roll out from beneath the human tonnage as he had done all
during this practice session. He had tried to explain to her why such sessions
were important—something to do with learning to hang on to the ball when he was
sacked, which to Mattie sounded like something that was done to groceries, not
people. Despite the explanation, Mattie still could not help feeling that if
Joe were going to be buried under several tons of hulking linebackers, it would
be infinitely preferable if he only had to go through it once a week—on game
day—rather than at practice, too. Joe had agreed wholeheartedly and invited her
to discuss her theories with the coach. Mattie declined and settled in to watch
him get pounded to the ground by his teammates and friends.
         
                     
                     
               

"Okay, guys, hit the
showers!" Mattie looked up as she heard the coach clear the players from
the field. Joe began to jog to the stand where Mattie waited but was pulled up
by the coach's bellow. "Joe! You really didn't get time to practice the
long ball. Take thirty minutes now."

Joe's eyes met Mattie's
wryly, and she smiled back.

"Sure, coach,"
Joe called obligingly.

Coach Rusky nodded once
and followed the rest of the team off the field.

Joe waited until he was
out of sight and crossed to Mat-tie dejectedly. "Let's go," he
suggested hopefully.

Mattie shook her head.
"You'll get fined. Again."

"But I'm
hungry," Joe muttered, looking like a sulky little boy.

"You've already
contributed a couple of thousand to the team coffers," Mattie pointed out.
"There was that time you skipped practice to go on that assignment with
me...."

"I didn't want you to
get lonely," Joe protested mildly.

"And the time you
threw the game ball into the stands-"

"The little boy was
in a wheelchair, Mattie. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he
caught that ball."

"I did, Joe,"
Mattie told him tenderly. "I watched that game on TV, remember?"

"Okay, okay,"
Joe gave in with good humor. "Another thirty minutes. Think you can hold
out?"

"Sure." Mattie
waved her camera at him. "I never get bored with old Sam here for
company."

"Sam?" Joe
repeated blankly, peering at the camera suspiciously. "I thought that one
was Daisy?"

Mattie sighed in mock
exasperation. "Daisy is the Nikon."

"Oh." Joe looked
properly subdued, then sneaked a glance at her watch and brightened. "Only
twenty-seven minutes now."

Mattie laughed. "GO
throw your long balls."

"Come run them down
for me," he wheedled hopefully.

Mattie looked around the
field. Not a soul in sight. "Okay." She set down the camera she had
been using— taking pictures was as much a part of her as breathing and Joe had
become her favorite subject—and started for the stairs that led to the field on
the other side of the stands.

"Here, I'll help you
over the fence," Joe offered, holding his arms out invitingly.

Mattie hesitated for one
second before moving into reach. Joe gripped either side of her waist gently
and swung her effortlessly over the iron bars and down to the field. Mattie's
hands rested on the muscles of his shoulders, feeling them flex and ripple with
pantherlike grace as he set her on her feet.

"There. That didn't
hurt a bit, did it?" The strained quality of Joe's voice brought Mattie
abruptly back to reality. She stared disbelievingly at her fingers as they
brushed over his shoulders in an unconsciously caressing motion, then snatched
them away as if they had been burned. Inside she felt like she was burning,
too, and she stepped from his hold, frightened by the sensation.

"No," she agreed
blankly, wondering what was happening to her. "That didn't hurt a
bit." Except for that fire inside.

There was an awkward,
almost waiting silence between them before Mattie turned away, searching
blindly for the football.

"Come on," she
forced herself to speak. "The sooner we start, the sooner we'll
finish."

"Yeah," Joe
agreed, his eyes on her back as she walked away. "I'm pretty hungry.''

Mattie laughed over her
shoulder at him. "You're always hung—"

The look in his eyes
stopped her. He was staring at her with a lost and hurt expression, with the
look of a man who didn't know whether to fight or flee.

As her eyes met his,
however, he blinked, clearing the emotion as effectively as an eraser on a
chalkboard. It made Mattie horribly uneasy to witness that phenomenon, because
she knew the method well. It was one she had perfected herself at a very early
age.

"Joe, are you all
right?"

"Sure." Joe
looked away.

"You looked..."

"Hunger does strange
things to me," he interrupted quietly.

They were both silent as
they absorbed the implications of that remark.

"How about if we go
to my place when we finish here?" Joe asked, breaking the silence with a
desperate attempt to put things back on an even keel. "I'll grill
hamburgers."

"And hot dogs,
too?" Mattie played along, grateful for the escape he offered.

"Hot dogs, too,"
Joe conceded indulgently. "Come on."

They moved to the center
of the field and spent the next thirty minutes with Joe throwing the football
and Mattie collecting it. To help sharpen Joe's precision and lessen the amount
of area Mattie had to travel in chasing after the football, they devised a
system whereby Mattie moved from marker to marker, indicating the spot Joe was
to aim. It was no challenge for Joe, of course, with no defensive line to rush
him, but he enjoyed being with Mattie. They always enjoyed their time together,
no matter how simply spent.

Finally Joe called a halt
to the practice.

"My stomach says it's
been thirty minutes," he complained.

"Your stomach tells
time?" Mattie inquired in assumed awe. "Did you swallow a watch or
something? How do you wind it?"

Joe regarded her
pityingly. "You must be hungry, too. Your wit is sinking quickly." He
grabbed her hand and led her toward the sidelines.

"Wait!" Mattie
dug in her heels, and Joe stopped obligingly. "I can't go in the locker
room!"

Joe regarded her blankly.
"Why not?"

'' Why not? " Mattie
blustered.

"Yes," Joe
repeated slowly, as if he thought she had not understood the question.
"Why not?"

"Well... there are
men in there," Mattie stated flatly.

"I'm sure they've all
cleared out by now," Joe pointed out reasonably.

Mattie shook her head.
"I'll just wait here."

"Okay," Joe
said, shrugging nonchalantly. "But around this time they usually turn on
the—''

Suddenly great streams of
cold water shot toward them. Mattie studied the cloudless blue sky blankly
before realizing that the water was pouring
up
on them instead of down.

"—sprinkler
system." Joe finished wryly.

"Eeek!" Mattie
shrieked as the cold water began to seep into her jeans. She took a quick step
back to get out of range and slipped on the wet grass, ending up at Joe's feet.

Joe couldn't help it. He
fell into gales of laughter as he witnessed the stunned look on her face.

Mattie shot him a killing
glare, then very deliberately hooked her foot behind his ankle and pushed with
all her might on his knee, giving him a mighty shove that brought him to the
ground beside her. He sat down rather hard between two thundering sprinkler
heads and was promptly drenched.

Now it was Mattie's turn
to laugh, and she didn't hold back. Joe watched her, pretending exasperation,
but the warm affection buried in his eyes ruined the pose.

Grabbing her wet hands, he
hauled her to her feet, studying her between water-spiked lashes. "You are
definitely going with me. You need a towel to dry off." His hand still
clasping hers, he led her down the tunnel to the locker room.

"You wait here,"
he instructed. "I'll make sure everyone's gone."

Mattie nodded agreeably,
and a moment later he was back, bowing her into the room.

"Behold, my lady. The
inner sanctuary of male supremacy in the sporting world."

Mattie wrinkled her nose.
"The inner sanctuary of male supremacy in the sporting world smells like
old gym socks."

Joe looked deeply
offended. "That is the smell of victory," he protested grandly.
"The sweet, musty smell of success."

"Go take your
shower," Mattie advised. "I think some dirt seeped into your
brain."

Joe maintained a haughty
pose for one more minute, then gave up. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll go scrub
my brain. Here—" Joe snared a towel from a nearby stack and threw it to
her "—you dry off. I should be out in a second."