The Journey Collection (3 page)

“Max!” Travis spun on his heel, shocked by the voice that came from behind him.

There, standing in the doorway to the gymnasium, was the one woman he’d thought he would never see again. Ten years hadn’t changed her much. At five and half feet tall, Penelope Stone still wore her honey-blond hair long, just the way he liked it. He’d spent so many nights running his fingers through the silky locks, laughing at the way she shivered next him. Her brown eyes shifted between Travis and the boy, her face twisted in pure anguish. Before Travis could speak, she rushed over to them and wrapped her arms around the child, pulling him back a few steps.

Travis didn’t understand her reaction until the boy wiggled out of her embrace, his face flushed with embarrassment, and spoke a single word: “Mom!”

Feeling like he’d been sucker punched, Travis snapped his gaze up to hers. The boy had to be at least ten years old. The math wasn’t hard to figure out. His lips parted, and the words slipped out before he could stop them, “Penelope? What the hell is going on?”

***

Chapter
Three

Unraveling the Truth

Travis stood there and stared at Penelope with his mouth gaping open and a look of pure shock on his face. He looked from her down to the boy glaring at daggers her. Ten years. Ten damn years of not hearing a word from her, and now she stood in front of him with a kid? Running his hand through his hair, Travis tried to comprehend what had just happened. However, before he could question her further, a door slammed shut and pulled his attention away. Travis looked over his shoulder to see a tall, plump man with sparse grey hair coming toward him with a huge grin spread across his face and a hand held out in front of him.

“Mr. McCoy, we’re so thrilled to have you here, sir,” the man gushed, wrapping his fingers around Travis’ hand. “When I didn’t hear back from you, I figured you’d decided not to accept our invitation. But I’m so glad you came.”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it, and didn’t want to give you my word, then have to back out at the last minute,” Travis muttered. “You must be Mr. Garrison.”

“Call me Jack.” He waved him off before turning to Penelope and Max. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, we were just leaving,” Penelope blurted, grabbing Max’s arm and trying to drag him toward the exit.

“Mom! He didn’t sign my ball yet!” Max pulled his arm out of her grasp and looked up at Travis; the expectation in his eyes nearly brought the man to his knees. “My name is Max.”

“Um, yeah, okay.” Travis’ hand shook as he brought the marker down, scribbling ‘To Max, Never stop dreaming. Travis McCoy.’ Clearing his throat, he held the ball out to Max. “Here you go, little man.”

“Thanks, Mr. McCoy. You’re my favorite football player of all time,” the boy gushed. “My Mom says that when I get bigger, she’ll take me to watch you play.”

Penelope whimpered, pulling Travis’ attention back to her. “She did, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Max shrugged his shoulders. “I’m gonna play for the Sharks when I get big, too. My Mom said that they are the best football team in the league.”

“Max, we should go,” Penelope said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes never left Travis’s. “I’m sure Mr. McCoy has business to handle with Mr. Garrison.”

“Okay, Mom.” Max sighed before he turned back to Travis. “Thanks again, Mr. McCoy.”

“Travis,” he mumbled. “You — you can call me Travis.”

A wide smile spread over the young boy’s face. In that moment, Travis saw a bit of his own mother in the boy. He had Loralie’s smile, that same carefree innocence that she’d had until the end.

“Okay, Travis. Thanks!” Max cheered.

“You’re welcome.” Travis shifted his focus over to Penelope, who had one hand covering her mouth while the other rested against her chest. “Penelope . . .”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, before she fisted a handful of Max’s maroon and white Broncos T-shirt and dragged him out the door with her.

Travis stood still, fighting against the bile rising in his throat. It wasn’t until Jack clapped his hands together that he remembered the man was even standing there. Travis swallowed thickly and shifted his attention to him.

“How long have you been the principal here?” Travis asked, trying to forget about Penelope and Max. It wouldn’t work, of course. She’d haunted him every day for the last decade, and now, so would her son.

“I came to Clarendon the fall after you graduated,” Jack explained and gestured for Travis to follow him. “Though, I have to admit that I watched you play while you were still in school. I taught in Amarillo while I obtained my master’s degree. You had quite the career here.”

“I guess,” Travis muttered. Jack led him through the gym and into the high school. The office was located on the second floor of the three-storey building.

Sitting behind an old, metal desk was Nadine Malone. The five-foot tall woman had short, black hair and deep hazel eyes, which made even the strongest of boys tremble in fear when she turned her glare on them. Of all the teachers or staff that had worked here when Travis had been a student, Ms. Malone had had the biggest effect on him. Just the thought of disappointing her made him cringe.

She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Travis. “Oh, my goodness,” she cooed, standing up and rushing around to him. She wrapped her tiny arms around Travis. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Hello, Ms. Malone. It’s nice to see you, too.” Travis chuckled and hugged her back.

“Oh, well, I think you can call me Nadine now. After all, you’re not a student anymore.” She giggled and released her hold on him. “Now, why didn’t you tell us you were coming? We’d have made sure you were welcomed properly.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to,” he explained. “You know, scheduling conflicts and everything.”

“Oh, of course,” she murmured. “I suppose you’ve got quite a tight schedule with the team and all your endorsements. How long are you planning on staying?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Travis groused, shifting his balance from one foot to the other. “Maybe the week. Guess it just really depends.”

“Well, I bet your father was happy to see you,” Nadine chirped, walking back around her desk. She took her seat again, a wide smile still stretched across her face. “Every time you play, he brags to everyone in town about how well you did.”

Travis wasn’t sure how to respond. Russ hadn’t given him any indication that he’d even followed Travis’ career, much less talked about him. “Oh, well, um, that’s nice.”

“Nadine, do me a favor and call Coach Reynolds and tell him that Travis is here.” Jack turned to him. “I bet the boys would love to talk to you before tonight’s game. Only if you have the time, of course.”

“Sure, that’d be fine,” Travis replied. “I’m sorry to run like this, but I’ve got some stuff to do before the game tonight, so . . .”

“Oh, of course.” Jack waved him off. “Thanks again for coming. You really can’t imagine how much it means to all of these boys.”

Travis nodded. “I can. It wasn’t that long ago that I was in their shoes.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Travis found himself sitting on the front steps of his father’s house. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside. The minute he’d left the school office, everything had come crashing down on him. Part of him wanted to believe that Penelope had cheated on him and that Max had been the result of some torrid affair that Travis hadn’t known about; but the other half of him knew that Penelope wouldn’t have done that to him. The girl he’d left behind had loved him.

Travis looked up when he heard his father’s truck pull up next to Bertha. The minute Russ climbed out, Travis was on his feet. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what? And you’d better check that attitude, boy,” Russ ordered, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Fuck you,” Travis snarled. “You knew about Max, didn’t you?” At the mention of the boy’s name, his father closed his eyes. “Damn it, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Russ released a sarcastic laugh and looked up at Travis. “When was I supposed to tell you? Maybe when you didn’t come home for ten years? Or even better, when you didn’t call but once every few months?”

“That’s not fair,” Travis muttered. “You should have told me about him.”

“I didn’t know for sure if he was yours,” Russ said with a sigh. “I never asked her.”

“The math wasn’t hard to figure, Dad.” Defeated, Travis leaned against the side of the truck. “He looks like Mom, don’t you think?”

“A little,” Russ grumbled.

Travis brought his hand up, rubbing along the scruff on his jaw. “You knew Penelope was still in town. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Damn it, Travis.” Russ huffed. “You’re a grown man. Maybe I thought it was time for you to look past your own selfishness for a change.”

“I’m selfish?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s ironic, coming from you.”

“And just what’s that supposed to mean, boy?”

Travis pushed off the side of the truck. “You know what it means. You talk about me never coming back? When did you ever come support me, Dad? Shit, even when I was in school here, you couldn’t be bothered to come watch me play.”

“I had to work. Someone had to keep this place going. We had bills to pay.” Russ lifted his attention up to Travis. “Plus, just because I wasn’t there physically, didn’t mean I wasn’t there in spirit.”

“Yeah, just like you were there for Mom?” Travis hissed, watching Russ flinch back. “She needed you, and you weren’t there. I needed you, and you weren’t there. Some would call that a pattern.”

“One that has passed on to my son,” Russ deadpanned, before brushing past Travis. “I never claimed to be the best husband or father, boy, but I loved your mother — I still do — and I love you. If you don’t know that, then I guess we don’t have anything else to talk about.”

Russ walked into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. Travis clenched his fists together. He wanted to scream or hit something, but he didn’t. Losing his temper wasn’t going to help anything. Instead of going into the house and trying to patch things up with Russ, though, Travis climbed into his car and headed back into town. Right now, he needed some time to figure out what had happened to him. He hadn’t been home a full day, and already he’d managed to piss off his father.

Just one more way that I’ve made a mess of my life,
Travis thought.

Ten minutes later, he found himself parked back in the lot between the school and the football field. Travis took a few minutes to calm himself down before he climbed out and walked toward the gate. If he hadn’t promised to talk to the team, he would have bought himself a six-pack of beer and found a nice, quiet country road where he could drink his sorrows away.

Nadine was working the ticket booth and waved him in, telling him that he didn’t have to pay. Travis planted on a smile and thanked her, even though he could tell it looked off. He walked into the stadium and closed his eyes, the sound of the crowd cheering for him still fresh in his memories. This field had been his sanctuary, one of the few places he could go when everything felt like it was closing in around him. Travis’ sweat, tears, and blood had been shed there.

“Travis, there you are.” At the sound of Jack’s voice, he turned to see him coming down from the announcer’s box. “I’ll take you down to the team. Coach Reynolds and I thought it would be better if we didn’t tell the boys that you were coming. You know, let them be surprised and everything.”

“Thanks,” Travis muttered, following him toward the field house.

A decade hadn’t changed it much. Like so much in Clarendon, a fresh coat of paint had made all the difference to the building. Jack opened the door, motioning for Travis to walk in first. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and drew everyone’s attention. Travis smiled as he watched the looks of amazement creep onto the players’ faces.

“Hey, boys,” he snickered, waving at them.

“You — you’re . . .” One of the boys — a lineman from the look of him — stammered.

“I’m Travis,” he said, clearing his throat. “From what I’ve been hearing, you boys have had a pretty good season so far.”

“Yes, sir,” a different boy replied. The tall, lanky red-head stepped around his teammates. “I’m Cody, the team captain.”

“Nice to meet you.” Travis offered Cody his hand. The boy looked both terrified and thrilled when he wrapped his fingers around Travis’s. “What position do you play?”

“Quarterback, sir,” Cody muttered, the edges of his ears turning bright red.

“Ah.” Travis nodded. Letting his hand drop to his side, he looked around at all of the players. “Well, I suppose I should say something witty and inspirational, huh?”

Everyone laughed.

“Look, I don’t have anything to say that you probably haven’t heard a million times from your parents, teachers, or coaches. All I can really tell you is to enjoy every moment that you’re on that field. Play the game you love, and put every ounce of yourselves into it. If you do that, then you’ll be just fine.”

“Mr. McCoy, would you lead us through the Lord’s Prayer?” Cody asked.

Travis nodded, and the boys dropped down to one knee. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. . .”

The boys began saying the prayer with him, the sounds of their murmured voices filling the air. Once they were done, they stood up, grabbed their helmets, and headed out to the field. Travis followed them to the inflatable tunnel, where the roar of the crowd fed into their energy. A moment later, they ran through the tunnel, spurring the band to play the fight song. Travis laughed again and stopped at the edge of the field.

The feel of the plush, green grass under his shoes, the painted white yard lines, and the large, maroon C in the middle of the stadium took him back to his senior year. He remembered standing in the middle of the field, trying to imagine a life after football. That was before the offer to play ball for the University of Texas came; before he’d left Clarendon behind. By choosing to leave town, he’d lost everything. Now, he had to decide if it had been worth it. Travis wasn’t so sure.

***