The Journey Collection (6 page)

Chapter Seven

A Father’s Pride

At ten till five, Travis parked next to the curb overlooking the practice field. It wasn’t much more than a hundred yards of grass between where the school housed their buses and the First Baptist Church, but every Fall, the peewee football league would spend countless hours there, learning how to play the game. Their sweat had been seared into the earth, the sound of their laughter floating away like the sweetest of memories.

A smile twisted on to his face. Travis had been looking forward to watching Max practice all day, a feeling that surprised him. Climbing out of his car, he walked around the chain-link fence that lined the edge of the field, which provided a barrier from the street, over to where Penelope was standing with Max. The boy turned and looked back at him, an exuberant smile creeping over his features. Once again, Travis felt himself beaming with pride when Max pulled away from his mother and ran over to him — a father’s pride.

“What are you doing here?” he yelled.

Travis shrugged. “Well, I thought since you’ve seen me play, that maybe I could watch you. Is that okay, little man?”

“Um, duh,” Max scoffed. “This is so cool! Come on, you have to meet the rest of the team.”

Travis laughed as Max grabbed his arm and pulled him over to where the rest of his team was anxiously waiting for their chance to meet him. Twenty boys between the ages of ten and eleven surrounded him, awed over the fact that
the
Travis McCoy was there to watch them practice. The praise had his grin growing; however, a hollow ache filled his gut. In the years since he’d left Clarendon, he’d forgotten why he had fallen in love with the game. It wasn’t about making millions of dollars a year, or even the fame that came with inching his way toward a championship. It was the joy, the pure adrenalin that filled him when his fingers touched the ball or made a perfect throw. These boys had that fire in their eyes — a flame that used to burn in his own.

“Okay, boys,” chuckled one of the coaches, a tall, husky man with blond hair and hazel eyes. “Let’s give Mr. McCoy some room. Line up, and begin loosening up.”

The boys muttered “okay” before getting into position. They spread out in five lines, with four boys in each one. Max stood at the head of the middle group. Crossing their legs at the ankles first, the boys bowed at the waist and reached for their toes. Together, they counted to ten before leaning to the left, one leg kept straight while the other bent at the knee under their weight.

“Sorry about that,” the man next to him said. “They get excited. I mean, it’s not every day one of the biggest players in the professional league comes to their practice.”

Travis laughed and waved him off. “No, I suppose it’s not. I don’t really mind, anyway. They’re the best kinds of fans. All they see is the beauty in the game, not all the politics behind it.”

“That’s true,” he commented. “I’m Dale Morris. You probably don’t remember me; I was a freshman when you were a senior.”

“Oh, yeah, I do. You played tight-end,” Travis replied. “Pretty good one, too, if I remember correctly.”

“Eh, I was okay.” Dale shrugged his shoulders. “Blew my knee out in the first game of my senior year, ended up riding the bench for the rest of the season. After that, I decided that if I couldn’t play, I’d coach. Took over the peewee program during my first year of college, and never looked back.”

“That’s nice. These kids need strong leaders like you,” Travis murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Dale scoffed. “They look up to you more than me, but if I can inspire just one kid, then, well, it’s worth it.”

Travis nodded. “I’m sure if you ask these boys, Dale, they’ll all tell you that you’ve taught them more than I have.”

“I just teach them the basics,” Dale said. “You give them hope that their dreams can come true.”

Before Travis could reply, Dale blew his whistle and told the kids to huddle up. Travis went over and sat next to Penelope, who’d spread a large blanket on the ground. With his knees stretched out in front of him, he watched while they worked on hitting first. Dale was patient with them, explaining why it was important that they use their shoulders and not the top of their helmets. Travis laughed when Max stepped up in front of one of the biggest boys on the team. Getting down in his stance, Travis could tell by the way his foot dug into the ground that Max was ready. Dale blew his whistle, and Max had his shoulder into the kid and his arms wrapped around his waist before Travis could even blink. The other boy stumbled over his own feet, falling to the ground, but Max never let go — not once.

“This is his favorite part of practice,” Penelope said with a giggle. Travis tore his eyes off of Max and looked at her. “And every time he challenges Matthew — the boy he just faced off with. Even though Matthew has about two feet and a good fifty pounds on Max, he still calls him out. Do you know why?”

“No, why?” Travis asked.

“Because in an interview you did last season, when you lost to the Lions, you said that no matter how big the other guy is, you have to keep trying.” Penelope smiled. “He wrote that out on a piece of paper and pinned it on the bulletin board in his room. Every night, he reads it.”

“I remember that game,” Travis murmured, turning his attention back to Max. “It was so cold. It started sleeting during the second quarter and didn’t stop. We tried to stay warm, but by the middle of the third, my fingers were frozen, and I could barely feel my toes.”

“It was probably one of your best games,” Penelope commented. “You threw for four hundred yards and had three touchdowns, one that you ran in.”

Travis shook his head. “Wasn’t enough, though. They ended up winning at the last second by kicking a thirty-two yard field goal.”

“It’s not always about winning, Travis,” Penelope said. “Sometimes, it’s just about having the courage to get on the field.”

“Why’d you follow my career?” Travis asked, turning his body so that he faced her. “I was a bastard, right? Why’d you still care?”

She shook her head. “Watching you go from being this small town kid to this all star player in college and then finally achieving your dreams by being drafted — it reminded me of why I didn’t tell you.” Penelope shifted her eyes up to Travis. “And you weren’t a bastard, Travis. I just didn’t think you were ready to be a dad.”

“Maybe I wasn’t, but I would have liked the choice.”

Penelope sighed. “I know, you keep telling me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Travis muttered.

“Don’t be, I deserve it.” Penelope smiled. “I wasn’t ready to be a mom, either. The first few months were pure hell. Max was colicky. More than once, Momma came over and held him for an hour so I could shower, maybe get a nap. Once he outgrew that, things started getting easier. A little, anyway. Momma kept him while I went to school, then work afterwards. They helped me pay my bills, but I was careful with my money. Eventually, I started writing. I got a job down at the newspaper, covering everything from the Lion’s Club dinners to the sports section. It’s not much, but Cory lets me work from home so that I’m there when Max needs me. With Momma and Daddy in Colorado now, it makes it much easier to balance everything.”

“I’m glad your parents were able to help you out, Penelope. Did my dad ever offer?”

“A few times,” she admitted. “Last summer, he took Max’s Cub Scout den on a hike out at the ranch. Max still talks about Russ.”

Taking a deep breath, Travis looked away. “Good, at least Max has a good memory of my father.”

“You do, too. It’s just harder for you to see through all your anger.”

Travis laughed. “That sounds like something Cal would say.”

“Who’s Cal?” The sharp tone in Penelope’s voice had Travis smirking.

“Are you jealous, baby?”

“No,” she hissed, pulling her knees up in front of her. “Just curious.”

“Cal works for the Sharks, one of our trainers.
He
also happens to be my best friend,” Travis explained.

“He, huh?” Penelope shifted her eyes to his.

“Yep.” Travis winked at her. “Green is a good color on you, Penelope.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” she mumbled. “Besides, you weren’t exactly subtle when you were grilling me the other day.”

“No, I suppose I wasn’t,” he groused. Travis leaned toward Penelope. “But at least I can admit that the mere thought of you with anyone else makes me come undone at the seams.”

“It’s been a long time,” she whispered. “I’m not a fool, Travis. There had to have been other women.”

“Not one,” Travis cooed, placing his hand on her knee. “Have there be other men?”

Tilting her head, Penelope looked at him. “Nobody ever made me feel like you did, Travis.” Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her. However, she pulled away. “But that doesn’t mean that I can just jump back into a relationship with you.”

“Baby . . .” The sound of the boys yelling pulled his attention away from Penelope. Travis turned just in time for Max to jump on him, pushing him to the ground.

“Did you watch me practice?” Max asked, eagerly.

“I did,” Travis laughed, rolling so that he was sitting on his knees. “You’re good. Better than me.”

“No way,” Max scoffed. “You can throw a perfect spiral. Mine still flops around like a dead fish.”

“What? No way.” Travis stood up and pulled Max to his feet. “Show me.”

Max ran over and picked up one of the footballs they’d used during practice. Running down the field about twenty yards, he stopped and gripped the ball with both hands. Travis stood down field from the boy, waiting for him to throw it to him. Max reared his arm back, bringing the ball forward and letting it fly through the air. Like he’d told Travis, the ball flopped around, but for a ten year old boy, it looked good — much better than Travis had been able to do at the same age.

Travis caught it, rotating it between his palms before tossing it back to Max. The look on the boy’s face was almost enough to send him to his knees: pure happiness. For several minutes, they played catch, an act that most fathers and sons took for granted. Guilt crept over him. If he hadn’t been a selfish bastard, then Penelope wouldn’t have felt the need to keep their son from him. Hell, she hadn’t even hidden him. Travis had put everything from Clarendon behind him, and in the process, he’d lost more than he’d ever known.

“Come on, guys,” Penelope called just after Max had thrown the ball back to Travis. “We don’t want dinner to burn.”

Max ran up to him. “Are you eating with us, Travis?”

“If that’s okay with you, little man,” he answered.

“Um, duh,” he scoffed. Snatching the ball out of Travis’s arms, Max ran over to Penelope. “Mom, can I ride with Travis?”

“I don’t know,” she fretted, shifting her eyes from him over to Travis. “Do you mind?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “No, I’d like it a lot.”

“Okay. Just be careful.”

Max began to cheer, which caused both Travis and Penelope to laugh. Travis helped her fold her blanket before carrying it over to her car, placing it in the trunk along with Max’s shoulder pads and helmet. With his hand on Max’s shoulder, Travis led him over to his car. When he climbed into the passenger seat, Max’s eyes were huge. Travis laughed, shutting the door behind him. Boys and cars — no matter the age, the effect was generally the same.

Travis climbed in behind the wheel, and once they both had their seatbelts on, he followed Penelope to her house. Max was bouncing in his seat the entire ride, chattering the whole way about how all the kids in his class were envious that Max had met him. Travis had never seen a child talk so fast or loud, and he loved every minute of it.

The minute Travis pulled up in front of the house Max was out of the car and up the front walk. Travis laughed and followed him. Penelope stood just inside the living room, ordering Max to pick up his backpack and place it where it was supposed to go. Max grumbled but did as his mother told him.

Sighing, she looked back at Travis. “Every day it’s the same battle. You’d think he’d learn.”

“Why? You didn’t.” Travis smirked when Penelope scowled.

“Whatever,” she muttered, heading into the kitchen. “Wash up, boys; dinner should be ready.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Max saluted her, before motioning for Travis to follow him to the bathroom.

Once they’d thoroughly washed their hands, they headed into the dining room. Penelope already had the table set. In the middle were scalloped potatoes, a basket of rolls, and chicken casserole. Max cheered and slid into one of the chairs, leaving Travis to sit across from him. Penelope came in a moment later with two glasses of iced tea and one of milk.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, taking the seat between the two of them.

“Starving,” Travis replied. “It smells delicious.”

Penelope’s cheeks warmed.

“Mom makes the best chicken casserole,” Max declared, handing her his plate.

“I bet she does.” Travis smiled.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence, just enjoying the food. Max cleared his plate and asked for seconds. Penelope laughed and scooped another helping out for him.

“So, Travis,” Max said, ending the silence around them, “when were you going to tell me that you’re my dad?”