He wasn’t ready, he decided. He’d only just begun to accept the fact that he’d never walk again, that the short window of opportunity for a full recovery had already disappeared. Maybe New York would provide him with a transition period—a year or two to ease into his new reality.
“Gabe? Are you still there?” Phil asked when he finally stopped for breath. He’d been reeling off details of a compensation package, but Gabe hadn’t been listening carefully.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Impressive, huh? What do you say? Will you come to New York for the season?”
New York. The Big Apple. It was so different from Dundee. But if he couldn’t gain the anonymity he craved at home, he might as well go public in a big way, see if he could develop a career that might be half as fulfilling as the one he’d lost. He’d be stupid not to check it out, wouldn’t he?
“I’ll give it a try,” he heard himself say.
“What? You’ll do it?” The squeak in Phil Hunt’s voice gave away the fact that he hadn’t really expected to meet with success.
“Why not?” Gabe said.
“When can you come?”
Gabe glanced over at Lazarus. The dog had gone to lie down on his favorite rug in front of the fireplace. When he realized he had Gabe’s attention, he cocked his head, and his expression seemed to say, “No way. Don’t go.”
But Lazarus was just a dog. Maybe a dog wouldn’t like the big city as well as the mountains, but Gabe had to find himself again, figure out where he really belonged now that football was no longer an option. “When would you like me?” he said into the phone.
“Yesterday.”
Gabe thought of the game on Friday. “I can’t fly out until Saturday.”
“That’ll work. We’ll make it work. I’ll have my secretary schedule your flight and get back to you.”
“And I’ll probably have to be here during the week for awhile, until I can find someone to take over the high school team I’m coaching.” Gabe hated to leave the Spartans, but he figured it was better to do it now, before the season progressed any further.
“Don’t you worry about that. We’ll replace you with the best coach Dundee has ever seen. We’ll fly him there and pay him enough that he won’t mind staying through the season. Everyone will be happy.”
Even with their connections and money, Gabe doubted ESPN could find a better coach than Mike’s father had been. But they could certainly come up with someone who had a hell of a lot more experience than Gabe did, which would solve everything.
“I’d want to meet him before he officially takes over.”
“Done.”
“Fine,” Gabe said and hung up. Soon the Deborah Wheelers and the Melvin Blaines of Dundee would be too far away to have the slightest impact on his life, he told himself. He’d be raking in millions once again. He’d have a high-profile job that would put his mug on TV and maybe even on the cover of a few magazines. Certainly that was a semblance of what he’d lost, wasn’t it?
No, a voice in his head whispered. He could deal with Melvin Blaine and Deborah Wheeler. Compared to the weightier issues he faced, they were minor irritants. And the money and fame had never meant much to him. It was the accomplishment. It was about being the best.
But he was broken now. He didn’t know what his life was about, what did matter to him. So he blocked out the nagging feeling that he was making a mistake. It was time to force a change.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT FEW DAYS DRAGGED by like the slow drip of a faucet, maddeningly repetitive yet inexorable. Because of the gossip and the constant threat of Kenny or Brent overhearing it, Hannah felt a mounting tension. But she went about her business, ignoring the murmuring that seemed to accompany her wherever she went. She heard Marge whisper about her when she went to Finley’s Grocery to pick up some milk—Can you believe Deborah saw… Marge’s voice lowered at that point, but Hannah knew she was saying that Deborah had seen her half-naked—or fully naked as the story was now going—in Gabe’s yard.
Shirley’s grin when Hannah stopped to buy gas indicated she’d heard the news, too. Even Lula and Evelyn Bell, who suddenly appeared at her door to pick up the pictures they’d let languish in her studio for three weeks, made a reference to Gabe. They said they were willing to bet a hundred bucks that, crippled or not, he was better in bed than their own husbands, then giggled behind their hands when Hannah refused to comment.
Although the details were becoming exaggerated, Hannah figured the furor would die down much sooner if she didn’t respond. She definitely wanted life to return to normal before Russ had anything more to say about Gabe, or before her boys caught on to what was happening around them. Fortunately, Kenny seemed preoccupied with his own life.
Four days later, she thought there might still be a chance the uproar would simply fade away, like the bruise on her face, which was turning yellow. But she was beginning to fear that the desire to be with Gabe again would never disappear. He’d called her Sunday night to tell her what she already knew, that their little secret was no longer a secret, but they hadn’t talked long. The conversation had been stilted, full of pauses that indicated too many things were being left unsaid. They’d finished with a quick agreement to suspend their dinner arrangement—even though Gabe’s chair already sat on her porch, marking her house like a giant scarlet letter.
By Thursday Hannah felt as if she’d been walking a tightrope all week. Fortunately, as far as she knew, she still had several things in her favor. Her boys continued to be oblivious to the subtle changes around them. Owing, no doubt, to the fact that it had never happened before, everyone seemed to accept without question her “I ran into the door” explanation for her bruised lip and face. She’d filed a police report, but she hadn’t pressed charges. Guilt for what Russ had done seemed to be working well enough to keep him away. And she’d managed, despite unrelenting temptation, not to call Gabe.
So far her luck seemed to be holding. But she couldn’t imagine that her errand this morning would help matters. The guy who was in charge of the yearbook had called her twice this week, asking for the photographs she was supposed to have delivered last Monday. She had to finish them up right away, which meant she had to visit Gabe’s cabin and photograph the man she undressed in her mind every time she closed her eyes.