Renaldo (115 page)

up emotions and fears that he had stifled since that terrible day. Simone was

speechless, unable to comprehend who or what had turned her brave, insatiable

lion into a frightened lamb. Renaldo tried to regain his composure, but managed

only half sentences through the teary spasms that raked his body.

“The English . . . set upon him and his friends . . . and beat them severely!

My father . . . broke free . . . but they ran after him yelling, ‘spics out, spics out!

Kill the bloody spics!’ They had almost caught up to him again, when, he ran

. . . between two parked cars. Right into the path of a large truck! Oh, God!

My poor father!”

Simone held him in her arms, reassuring him that there was nothing to

fear now, that his father was at peace, and that he would have been so very

proud of his son’s accomplishments.

“Who told you this terrible story, my love? Who would want to say such

things on the eve of your great triumph? Who is this doctor you speak of? He

must be some kind of sadistic madman to tell you these things!”

“No! No, I went to him. Dr. Quinquela, this afternoon. I made him tell

me everything. He did not want to reveal how terrible things were in London

that day. He was an associate of my father’s from the Children’s Hospital. He

was at the stadium with him, he saw him die on that street!”

Renaldo had regained a large part of his composure now. Talking things

out had calmed him considerably. He looked at Simone directly for the first

time since awakening.

“I had to know! I had to find out the truth before I could ever set foot on

English soil. My mother and everyone else had always sheltered me from the

truth. I know now that she equated my father’s death to everything connected

with the sport of football. It is the reason she was so fearful every time I laced

on a pair of football boots. It all makes sense finally.”

“But how can you possibly go to England knowing what those insane

animals did to your father? The same thing could happen to you as a player.

The English hooligans have a terrible reputation, and you and Ramon will be

the first foreign players to play in their league. You will be marked men!”

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JAMES McCREATH

Now it was Simone who was trembling, tears welling in her eyes. She had

done her duty as Astor Gordero had commanded, but she was truly in love with

this gorgeous man and didn’t want to see him in any danger.

Renaldo kissed her tenderly and told her not to fret. He was feeling better

now, now that he had come to grips with the unanswered questions from his

youth. Simone pulled him down to her and snuggled up under the bedding.

Renaldo turned the light off as he felt the warmth of her skin once more beneath

him. Together they lay in the silent darkness, reorchestrating their passion in

thoughts, too spent now for actions. Concern for her young paramour’s future

evaporated as Simone drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that she

had created a master lover.

They had explored unimaginable heights that second night together,

and he had pushed her over the brink more times than she had ever thought

possible. It was no longer necessary to instruct her pupil in the ways of love, for

he had taken the initiative and embarked upon his post graduate thesis.

Simone had slept like a baby after her flame blew out the last candle and

cradled her in his strong arms. That is, until his agonizing cry had shattered

her tranquil euphoria.

Renaldo’s sleep had been fitful at best. It wasn’t the newfound knowledge

that Dr. Quinquela had revealed. Not initially at least. It was the blonde vision

and voice that kept appearing in his mind’s eye. Even while making love to

Simone, Mallory Russell’s countenance kept flashing like a neon sign in the far

reaches of his brain.

What was happening to him? Two days ago he could hardly talk to a

woman without feeling self-conscious about his inexperience with the fairer

sex. Now his long dormant hormones had manifested themselves in a plethora

of salacious cravings. How could he make love to the most beautiful woman in

the whole country while thinking of another? Did this mean that he was truly

a man now?

Renaldo De Seta knew that the answers to his many questions about life

and his future lay thousands of miles away, across the Atlantic Ocean. He had

to travel to England to confront the real person living inside his body.

He had been convinced that Argentina held no further goals to accomplish

at this point in his life. He was a world champion athlete, courting a world-

renowned starlet. What more could he do here? His life had turned into a thing

of which fairy tales and novels are made.

He had forged a peace with his mother, and while he worried about his

wayward brother, there was nothing that he could do for Lonnie if Lonnie did

not reach out for help.

Of course, unknown to his little brother, Lonnie De Seta was far beyond

reaching out for anything, ever again!

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RENALDO

Renaldo could deal with his father’s death at the hands of the English, for

he himself could have died at the hands of his own countrymen in Córdoba.

He felt the need to visit Wembley Stadium in person, to see where his father’s

tragedy took place. After that, he was confident that those demons would be

exorcised forever, and he could accept the English without fear or paranoia.

The future for Renaldo De Seta, world champion, had been rolled out in

front of him as if it were a giant red carpet. It would soon be time to take the

initial steps down that glorious road.

As the star of Argentina’s World Cup championship stood on the threshold

of the unknown, drifting back into a much calmer sleep, the words that had

brought him success, fame, and fortune played over and over again in his

mind.

It was like counting sheep. There was the jovial, jowled face of his mentor

repeating his catchphrase. It was the phrase that had taken him to the highest

echelon of the sporting world, and he hoped it would continue to keep him

there, in his new endeavor.

Head and feet as one! Head and feet as one! Head and feet as one!

The End

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an intimate explOratiOn OF the meaning

OF hOpe:

Without hope, Renaldo would never have been written. At a time

in my life when despair could have easily overwhelmed me, I was

driven to produce this story of a special young man living in a

country that seemed to be without hope. As fate would have it, the events that

actually happened in Argentina in 198 gave an entire nation more hope than

they had ever experienced.

There have been two events in my life that have shaped my destiny. The

first was the sudden death of my mother, Myrtle, when I was nineteen and she

was only forty–six. The second was the suicide of my wife, Carol, a week after

her fortieth birthday.

In the first instance, I was the eldest of four children, my sister being only

seven at the time. I felt that I must set an example and give my two brothers

and sister hope that our mother had found eternal peace, and her spirit would

always be with us.

In the second instance, I had two young daughters, aged ten and twelve,

that needed constant reassurance and understanding that the life their mother

had chosen to surrender was just too much to bear, and that she, like my mother

before her, was now at peace, and in heaven watching over them every day.

It was the hope that I could make a difference in the lives of the people left

behind that inspired me to carry on and shun despair. I left university shortly

after my mother’s death, and guided our family business for the next forty

years. I am proud to say that we four siblings still communicate frequently,

even though we are geographically many miles apart.

JAMES McCREATH

Shortly after my wife passed, a story I had been formulating in my mind

during her painful illness began to pour onto the pages from my computer.

This fictional story was something that I could control, and over the seven years

it took to complete, writing was my therapy. This is why Renaldo came to be.

My young daughters are now wonderful, well adjusted women, the eldest

living and working in London England, and the youngest having just given

birth to a baby daughter. My hope for them as they were growing up was that

they would not fall into despair after the loss of their mum.

We were fortunate to find an Angel, a beautiful woman by the name of

Annie, who had also suffered an unthinkable setback. Annie had two children

as well, and with love and hope for a future together, we merged our two

stricken families and forged a union that has produced many joyous years, and

at this point two granddaughters.

Hope… for a brighter day tomorrow, kept us all going, filled our lives with

love and happiness, and allowed me to write Renaldo as a tribute to hope.

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RENALDO

abOut the authOr

James McCreath..is the descendant of Scottish and Italian immigrants to

Canada. His passion for the sport of soccer was ignited in the summer

of 1966, when as an eighteen-year-old schoolboy, he toured Europe as

England marched successfully to their World Cup championship. During his

diverse business career, he has been involved in both the professional sports and

entertainment industries. Mr. McCreath resides in his native Toronto, Canada.

For further information, please visit website - www.renaldo.com and blog -

renaldonovel.blogspot.com

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JAMES McCREATH

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