“In what way?”
“His aim was a little off.”
“I’ll talk to him about his attitude.”
Gabe shrugged. “Don’t be too hard on him. It’s tough for a team to lose its coach. I’m sure he and the other boys will be fine once they’ve had a chance to adjust.”
She glanced back at the house. “If you say so.”
He rested his arm over the steering wheel. “I meant to bring your chair today, but I got started late. I’ll drop it by tomorrow.”
“Or the next day,” she said. “There’s no hurry.”
“Okay. Thanks for dinner.” He flashed her a smile, and she found herself imagining him as he used to be—possessing all the confidence and swagger of youth and more talent and success than he knew what to do with. What had happened to him was a tragedy, but it was an even greater tragedy that he now held himself so aloof from others.
Hannah stepped back so he could leave, thinking of Patti’s words. If he was going to adjust and move on, he would have done it by now…. Could that be true? She hoped not. Mike Hill had managed to get Gabe involved with the Spartans, hadn’t he? Maybe she could do something to help him, too. She owed it to Gabe, after all.
“Gabe?”
He was backing toward the street, but he stopped at the end of the drive and poked his head out his open window. “Yeah?”
“Um, I just realized I need to take your picture for the school yearbook.” She’d been planning to go to the field tomorrow, but now she was hoping to use the assignment to better advantage.
“When we were in school, the students always handled the yearbook,” he said.
“I take the team photos,” she explained. “Anyway, I’m busy in the morning, so I was hoping I could cook in the afternoon and bring dinner out to your place afterwards. I’ll take your picture while I’m there.”
“Don’t you want a team photo?”
“Actually, I took one before Coach Hill died. As a tribute, I think they’re going to leave that as is. But they want to include a picture of you, along with an introductory paragraph or two about your accomplishments.”
“So you’re finished with everyone else?”
“You’re the last one.” Her heart beat at least twenty times before he said anything else.
“You don’t want to drive all the way out to the cabin if we can do it at—”
“Actually, I’d enjoy the scenery,” she said, cutting him off.
“Can’t you use an old picture? I haven’t gotten around to getting my hair cut in a while.”
“If you have one you’d rather use, you can give it to me when I come. But I’d like to get the football pictures turned in this week, if that’s okay. The guy making the program needs them.”
He hesitated for another few seconds. She could tell he was reluctant to let her return to his cabin and wasn’t happy about the idea of having his picture taken. But she was betting he’d be too polite to refuse, and she was right.
“Okay,” he said at last. “But if the drive becomes a problem for you, let me know. I can take a rain check on dinner and see if I can dig up a picture to send home with Kenny tomorrow after practice.”
“The drive won’t bother me. I’ll bring my camera, just in case.”
Hannah waved as he drove off, then headed toward the house. She wanted to contemplate how she could build on what Mike Hill had accomplished with Gabe. But she needed to deal with Kenny first.
Hoping for a good heart-to-heart, she hurried across the threshold—and nearly ran into him.
“I’m taking off for a little while, Mom,” he said, circumventing her.
“Where are you going?”
He jogged down the front steps. “I don’t know. Maybe to the swimming hole with Tuck.”
“You’re not wearing a swimsuit.”
“I’m not going swimming.”
Worry gnawed at Hannah’s stomach. Kenny’s whole demeanor had changed over the weekend. “Kenny—”
“Cut me some slack, okay, Mom? I just need to be alone for a while,” he said and stalked off down the street.
“Kenny!” she called after him.
He turned.
“It’s only a game, okay?”
He shook his head as if she’d never understand. “Yeah, right. Tell Dad that,” he said and was gone.
KENNY’S BEST FRIEND Tuck sat slouching against a stump, dangling the keys to his mother’s old Mustang, while Kenny skipped rock after rock across the small pond everyone called The Old Swimming Hole. Technically, the property was part of the Running Y Resort owned by Conner Armstrong, but all the high school kids came out here to swim. No one bothered to stop them—unless they were drinking. The police had broken up more than a few weekend parties at the hole. There was always the fear someone might fall in and drown.
“So what are you going to do?” Tuck asked.
Kenny shrugged. He didn’t have any answers. He simply wanted to play football, but it wasn’t that easy anymore.
“Maybe you should quit the team,” Tuck said. “Go out again next year, when the whole coaching thing has been resolved.”
Resolved. Tuck had to be the only teenager who talked like that. But then, Tuck was different. His IQ fell somewhere in the range of genius; the teachers at school called him gifted. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“If I quit this year, they’ll never let me start next year.”
Tuck brushed his flyaway brown hair back from his Harry Potter-like face. “So start your senior year.”
“My junior year is most important. That’s when all the colleges look at you.”
“What about choosing a different sport? You could always be a track star like me.”
A smile tugged at Kenny’s lips despite his current dilemma. Tuck had narrow shoulders and little muscle. He wasn’t much of an athlete. The track team only took him because he had a lot of heart and would never quit in the middle of a race, no matter how far behind he fell—and the faster, stronger boys played baseball during track season. “I’ll be busy with baseball, remember?”
“So stick with baseball. You’re a great catcher.”
“Not great enough to get a scholarship. And if I don’t get a scholarship, I’ll never be able to go to Stanford with you. We have plans, remember? Who’s going to room with you if I’m not there?”