The Bridge to a Better Life (35 page)

He watched the cursor blink on and off as she was typing.

Understandable. Kim would be proud of you, but who cares, right? She doesn’t have to do the tough stuff of living, and sometimes living is hard.

Dammit, if tears didn’t pop into his eyes as he read that. She was right. Part of him wanted to yell at Kim, to tell her he didn’t care that she wanted him to find someone else. That he didn’t want to and that was that. Lucy, who worked with the impoverished, with survivors of war, knew better than most how hard living could be.

Thanks for not trying to sugarcoat it.

I’ll never do that, Andy Cakes.

A reluctant smile touched his mouth.

You’re the best, Luce. Now how can I cheer you up? How about I tell you about a practical joke a kid played on my mom?

He wrote out the story, loving the LOLs and smiley faces she interspersed into their chat. By the time he finished, he knew she was probably laughing in gales halfway around the world.

Andy Cakes. I am so going to try that here. I’m going to have to track down some raisins, but maybe I can find an alternative.

Track down raisins? He couldn’t imagine being anywhere that was that difficult. Then he realized she was in the freaking middle of Congo where most people barely had food. A month ago, she’d told him people ate grasshoppers. At first he’d thought it was a joke, but she’d actually tried them. He’d thought he understood poverty. He hadn’t understood bupkis.

She was typing.
Listen, I need to catch a few z's since I couldn’t sleep. I’ll talk to you when I get back from our trip.

Another trip? How long was she going to stay there? He started to type the questions, but hit the backspace until the line was clear. She didn’t need him to heap any more of his worry onto her. A person would have to be stupid not to know the danger involved. Lucy O’Brien was not stupid.

Yeah, I should have asked why you were up.

Nightmare. Couldn’t sleep. Shrug. Talk to you later, Andy Cakes. Kiss Danny for me.

You got it. Talk to you later, Luce.

Later, Andy Cakes.

They signed off, and he leaned back in his chair. Nightmares? She’d never mentioned having them before, but it wasn’t too surprising when he stopped to think about it. She probably had some form of PTSD after all the places she’d been, things she’d seen.

Even though he was tired, he still couldn’t go to bed. He looked online for new lawnmower models, something they didn’t even need. After fifty minutes of mindless searching, he told himself to go to sleep. Instead, he went to the den. Toys littered the floor, so he stooped and picked them up.

Unlike Danny, he knew why a person cleaned up only to create a new mess later.

Sometimes there needed to be a break in between bouts of chaos. He decided he needed another break. He didn’t care if that meant putting his dating plans on hold.

Nothing good was going to come of it anyway.

Natalie had stayed away from camp for the rest of the week, though Blake had stayed over at her house each night. She still wasn’t sure if it had been the right thing to do, but since he hadn’t asked her to pop over after work…

He had told her about the camp each night, so she knew that the time after practice was reserved for male bonding, anything from movie night to a dance party hosted by Jordan and Grant. But still... She suspected he understood that if she came, it meant she was willing to publicly declare they were a couple again. It would be the next step in their reconciliation.

She’d struggled all week about making such a declaration. It wouldn’t just be to him. It would be to his friends, her family, the town, and the world. They would be back in the public eye, and she wanted to believe she was strong enough to handle the talk about them because sometimes it could be downright intrusive and cruel.

As the week progressed, Natalie also thought more and more about what Blake would do once camp was over. They still hadn’t talked about the future. It was an unspoken rule, but the suspense was starting to weigh on her. Surely he’d have to decide about the high school job soon? Not only would it be a big step for their relationship, but it would also be a big step in his new career.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit she checked
The Western Independent
every day for information. Surely he would mention his decision to her before any report was published, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking. The waiting was slowly becoming agony. He was staying in Dare Valley for her, and he needed to have something to do. There had to be other offers—just not local ones. But she knew he wouldn’t want to leave Dare Valley, not when it meant leaving her. The guilt sat in her belly like a bag of marbles.

On Friday, all she could think about was going over to Emmits Merriam. Camp was due to end at four, commemorated by an awards ceremony and then a big party. She realized she wanted to go. She
wanted
to be there for Blake. People could think what they wanted about her public declaration. At lunch, she strolled into High Stakes’ kitchen to seek out her boss. Terrance Waters was piping out savory rosemary and goat cheese meringue puffs onto a cookie sheet. They served as the accompaniment to his fabulous veal consommé.

“Hey, Natalie,” he said, continuing to dole out rows of the airy white dollops. “What can I do for you?”

She swiped a finger at the batter clinging to the edge of his stainless steel bowl and hummed in appreciation at the taste. Before eating Terrance’s confections, she hadn’t known savory meringues were possible. “Do you have a problem with me taking off a little before four? I have everything wrapped up for the event this weekend.”

He set aside his pastry bag. “No, feel free. I assume you’re heading over to Emmits Merriam for the final ceremony of the football camp.”

Of course he would know. Everyone in town knew. Heck, Uncle Arthur had even written an article about it in
The Western Independent
called “The Changing Faces of Sports.” Reading it had pinched her heart with pride for what Blake was doing.

“Yes, I thought I might,” she answered him.

“Might?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, shut up,” she said without heat, “or I’ll blow on your meringues and make them collapse.”

His smirk was pure mischief. “My meringues are made of stronger stuff than that. And so are you. You know your own mind, all you need to do is trust yourself. And that’s the very last thing I’m going to say on the subject.”

He turned around with a wink and left the kitchen. She contemplated his meringues. He was right. She was made of stronger stuff, even when she was afraid.

When she stepped onto the football field at Emmits Merriam, as nervous as a virgin bride, the ceremony was starting. Her gaze found Blake in the middle of a group of young boys, standing with Sam and another man who matched his description of Frank. Blake was beaming as he handed out gold medals. Sam and Frank took turns putting them over the boys’ heads. The sheer joy on everyone’s faces was blinding.

Blake had told her about this—he wasn’t giving out special achievement medals to individual players like most camps did. Everyone was going to get a medal. As her gaze scanned the field, she watched as the same process played out in the other teams. Jordan was holding court with a group of high-school-age boys and leading them through a cheer with Zack at his side.

“I wondered if you were going to come today,” she heard behind her.

Her mother appeared by her side. She still hadn’t confronted her mother about being Cormack Daly’s messenger—or pumped her for information—and she didn’t plan to. It would only invite more conflict, which she didn’t want. She would assume her mother had meant well and leave it at that.

She flushed under her mom’s scrutiny. “I wanted to come.”

Her mom linked their arms. “I’m glad. I would have wondered if you hadn’t…I’ve heard you and Blake are working things out.”

She gave her mom the look.

“Oh, am I blind and deaf now?” she asked. “Blake looks so much happier than when he first arrived in town. It’s not just the camp, although he’s pretty much glowed all week.”

Yes, she’d noticed. Every time he came to her after leaving the guys, he’d practically lit up her bedroom. He
was
happy, and she was so glad to see it again.

Her mom unlinked their arms. “I need to receive my award shortly. You’re welcome to join the rest of us.”

She’d purposefully chosen a vacant part of the sidelines away from the crowd to give herself time to settle. When she glanced at Blake again, their eyes locked. Had her mother said he glowed? No, he burned.

She found herself smiling back at him, and everything else faded into the background. Her hand ducked up in a girlish wave before she realized it. She almost cursed at her own awkwardness.

Then Jordan saw her and ran across the field. “Hey, Nat baby,” he called out, reaching for her arm as he skidded to a halt in front of her. “Come join us. You can help us bestow our medals. I want you to meet my players.”

She’d never been so happy to have him pull her onto the field. “Sounds like fun.”

“See you later, honey,” her mother said, taking off with a ruffle of her fingers.

Plenty of people stared at her as she reached Jordan’s team. A few of them even pointed. Her shoulders tightened up so much she wished she’d thought to schedule a sixty-minute Swedish massage at the hotel.

After all the medals had been handed out, she took a place on the sidelines by herself as the boys fanned out on the sidelines, many of them holding hands. Seeing this sweet sign of unity made her heart swell. The sheen of pride she saw in all of the boys’ eyes threatened to make it burst.

Adam had told her what it felt like to be different, how hurtful it was to be pointed at and stared at by people. He’d been called names, flat-out ignored, and sometimes even cursed for being too slow. Keeping pride in himself had been an ongoing process, one helped by his loving parents and Blake, who’d never been ashamed of him. No, they’d valued Adam as one of the greatest human beings they’d ever known. Now, Blake was giving that gift to these boys.

Blake stepped into the middle of the field with the other coaches. Dressed simply, in the green T-shirt of his team, navy shorts, and a Raiders ball cap, he looked larger than life.

“I won’t say much to all of you,” he said in a baritone voice that carried across the field. “I don’t need to. What needed to be said has been said on this field, every day of this camp. Every time you caught the ball, you said something. Every time you kept running even when you were exhausted, you said something. Every time you made a new friend, you said something.”

He put his hands on his hips and scanned the line of boys watching him.

“You said
you matter,
that you’re talented, and that you deserve to play football like anyone else. When you leave this camp, remember that. When someone treats you differently because they
think
you’re different, you call one of your teammates so you can remember the truth. What you have done here isn’t just a victory. It’s a triumph. I’m so proud of all of you, but I mostly want you to be proud of yourselves. As I told one of you boys the first day of camp, your opinion is the
only
one that really matters. Now, let’s do some celebrating.”

Then Blake stepped forward and held out his arms. The boys from his team rushed him first, followed by the rest of them. Her heart squeezed as she watched him hug the kids, laughing now. The boys converged around the rest of the coaches, and soon the field was filled with the special kind of male bonding Natalie had only seen on the football field, the kind of bonding Blake had always loved.

Until Blake, she’d never known the true power of sports. For her, it had always been about winning and losing and some pretty hot guys wearing tight pants. But football created a bond between the players. It didn’t just create winners and losers. It created men. And Blake wasn’t simply good at creating men, she realized. He was incredible at it. Coaching looked as natural on him as loving her did.

Love overwhelmed her. Determined to tell him just that, she took one step out onto the field toward him and then another.

Blake had lifted a young boy with red curly hair onto his shoulders and jogged across the field to the end zone with a trail of boys following him. They were all chanting, “Go, go, go.”

“Good to see you, Natalie,” Sam called out as he hugged a boy to his chest.

She waved to him and kept walking to the end zone. Blake had set the boy down and was demonstrating to his group how to spike the ball in victory. One kid after another tried. It was harder than it looked. Blake laughed as the football ricocheted off his ankle.

That sound of his happiness made her chest feel lighter. She loved him, oh, how she loved him.

One of the kids saw her and pointed. His mouth moved, and Blake spun around.

He missed catching the football a kid passed to him—something he never did—and didn’t even lean down to pick it up. His baseball cap was angled low over his forehead, but she could see his eyes. Those beautiful browns were filled with the look of cautious hope she often saw in them when he didn’t think she was watching.