Page 11
Author: Robyn Carr
What a coincidence. So did she.
He was a retired air force colonel who now worked for the Oregon State Police as a trooper. It was his mission to retire, for the second time, at sixty. And now that he’d recovered from his divorce—his ex was remarried and his kids had completed college—he could count on a comfortable old age. Part of his job in Coos County was to assist the Sheriff’s Department. That was a little close for comfort for Lou.
“I don’t see why,” he argued. “Police people are like a family. They intermarry all the time. ”
“Marry!”
“Well, we have to be going somewhere!” he said. “Besides, Mac and I get along fine. He likes me. We work well together when we have to. ”
“Let me think, let me think!” she had pleaded. She’d been pleading that for a year.
But Lou’s little secret was that this was all she’d ever wanted. If she’d met him when she was twenty-one, she’d have married him in a heartbeat—provided he hadn’t been eleven. She’d have been a good wife to him. In fact, what she’d always wanted was a home, a spouse, kids. Crazy as it seemed now, she’d never even come close. She had been twenty-five when her brother and sister-in-law had Mac, thirty-five when their deaths left him orphaned and she became his parent. She’d been only forty-four when Mac came to her and confessed his girlfriend was pregnant, and fifty when Cee Jay left him and the three kids. While raising Mac’s kids was hard work—cutting into her social life and sleep, costing time and money—if she could, she would kiss Cee Jay for giving her these precious children.
Once or twice a week, she met Joe. Sometimes they went out for dinner, sometimes they stayed in, sometimes they even went somewhere other than his house for the night. She stole a long weekend from her family to go to Victoria with him—that was fabulous. He brought out her best self and she adored him. She just didn’t want to saddle him with an old woman, which she felt she would be before long. And she didn’t want anyone to laugh at the idea that she thought she was young enough for this, for him. Not the way they laughed at Ray Anne. Even Lou found Ray Anne ridiculous.
He slid down her panties. “It’s up to you, babe—I don’t want to push you too much and I’m not giving you up. But I sure like the way you play bunco. ”
* * *
There were two situations that always tempted Cooper to cut and run. Being at complete odds with his environment, as with the Army or certain jobs. Or feeling a little too comfortable and secure. That had happened to him a few times, a couple of which were very difficult. There were a couple of times he’d been with a woman with whom he thought he could go the distance. He’d had visions of the kind of happy home his parents had. When it didn’t work out, he was dealt a double blow—he was not only informed he’d let the women down, a painful enough thing for a man who’d been doing his best, but he had suffered the pain of loss and isolation. Naturally he tried to avoid both—work unsuited to him and women he couldn’t hold on to. For the past several years, he’d avoided romantic relationships that could gut him in the end. That whole not-sleeping, feeling the deep ache that came from failure, enduring the sudden loneliness of being rejected. . . it was bad for his disposition. He only got involved with women he didn’t care about too much. He just didn’t like the risks he associated with settling down.
Cooper thought it might be in his best interest to put up a for-sale sign on this beach property and take off. It might be the safest thing to do. But the train wreck of a bar/bait shop tugged at him. He wasn’t sure what that was about. He had no real stake in it. It was a gift, a piece of luck.
It was nice to be back on the water, even though the bait shop was a pimple on the otherwise beautiful landscape. It was a disaster; fixing it looked about as easy as scaling Everest. He didn’t know where to start—or whether to start.
Cooper couldn’t remember ever having such difficulty making a decision. He generally made his decisions too fast, without really thinking things through. Enlisting in the Army, taking a job or quitting a job. Then there had been two engagements, five years apart, that were probably doomed from the start even if he hadn’t seen it. He surprised himself this time. The Cooper he thought he was would have either sold or leveled that dying old shack by now.
He felt an odd sense of peace. And it scared him to death.
* * *
A couple days later, Cooper found himself watching a quiet sunset with an empty beach. The fishing boats had docked. Cooper headed for town, the long way. He thought he’d like either a burger at the diner or pizza. But as he approached the high school, he saw the football field was all lit up, the parking lot overflowing. He could hear cheers and the thumping of high school band music even with the windows up. He turned in to the school, drove around to the back and then hunted for a space but ended up on the back overflow dirt lot. There were buses representing the Carver High Badgers and as he walked toward the field, he could see that both the home and visiting bleachers were full.
By God, the whole town was there.
He paid his five bucks, but the bleachers were so crammed, he just hung around the end, standing. There was an announcer on the loudspeaker. He saw Eve on the sidelines and wondered which of the cheerleaders belonged to Gina. He watched a few plays. The score was 10–7 in favor of the Badgers nearing the half. He picked up from people that Thunder Point never beat Carver High, at least not in too many years to remember. And then, with the clock ticking down to the half, there was a fumble, a recovery and— “Dupre has the ball and runs it! Going, going, and we. . . have. . . touchdown! Sixty yards and touchdown for the Cougars!”
The team, the cheerleaders and the fans were all roaring. A few of the Cougars rushed the quarterback and high-fived, hugged and slapped him on the back. The score went to 10–13, Cougars. They kicked and got the point just before the half, when both teams jogged off the field and were replaced by the band.
There was a rush on the concession stand and even though by now Cooper was starving, he saw the line was long and dense. He’d be better off taking his chances on Cliff’s or the Pizza Hut.
“Kid’s a natural athlete,” said a passerby on his way to the concession stand.
“We haven’t seen anything like him since I’ve lived here,” said another.
Maybe things weren’t as terrible for the kid as he believed—the team and the crowd seemed to approve of his game. Despite the growls of hunger Cooper was suffering, he wasn’t going anywhere.
After standing there for about ten minutes, with a steady stream of people moving in and out of the bleachers, someone said his name.
“Cooper? Cooper, what are you doing here?”
He turned to see Gina, blond hair down tonight, wearing a Cougars sweatshirt under her jacket. “I was on my way into town and saw the game, so I just stopped off here. So, which one is yours?” he asked, tipping his head toward the cheerleaders.
“The redhead on the end—that’s Ashley. Right next to her is Mac’s daughter, Eve. ”
“I spotted Eve. I had dinner at Mac’s one night and met the kids,” he said.
“You want to sit with us? We’re right up there,” she said, pointing. “We can cram you in. We try to get here early and hold seats on the fifty yard line. ”
When he turned to look, Mac was standing, waving his arms. For the first time he thought, maybe there’s something going on there. Mac and Gina. It would make perfect sense. A couple of single parents, a lot in common. . .
He liked Gina—she was pretty and sassy. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’ve never seen so many people at a high school game. ”
“The town gets into the local sports,” she said. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, there isn’t a big entertainment industry here. We’re the real Friday Night Lights. ”
“Sure, I’ll come up. Thanks. ”
“I’m on my way to the bathroom. See you for the second hal
f. ”
Cooper went to the bleachers to sit with Mac and Lou. Mac pulled a cola out of a small cooler and offered it. The kids were off running around the bleachers, looking for anyone to sit with but their family.
The dancers joined the marching band on the field, about a dozen of them. Cooper told them what Gina had said about the town being the real Friday Night Lights.
“Have you counted the kids on the field tonight? Between football players, cheerleaders, pom-pom girls and band, you have any idea the number of hours the parents of this town have invested in just this activity?” Lou asked him. “Plus the fact, after all this, we can’t afford anything else. ”
“They’re pretty good for a town this size,” Cooper added.
“They are,” Mac said. “We work ’em hard to keep ’em out of trouble. ”
The second half was an even better ball game, but not easier for the Cougars. The Badgers caught up and passed them, the Cougars got behind by 10, then they got within reach and the people from Thunder Point were going crazy. There were a couple of fights on the field, a couple of really bad tackles and penalties. A Cougar was taken out of the game and it got down to the wire.
And then he did it again—Dupre recovered the ball and ran ninety yards for a touchdown, putting them two points ahead. The clock ran down and in a fever of excitement, the Cougars pulled off a win.
Even Cooper was on his feet, yelling till he was hoarse. He found himself hugged by Gina and Lou, slapped on the back by Mac.
“That’s the first time they’ve been able to beat the Badgers since we moved here. ”
“Why is that?”
“Carver High,” he said. “Big old farm boys from inland. They breed ’em hard and tough. It’s been said they come out of the womb in shoulder pads. ”
“But you don’t believe that,” Cooper said with a laugh.
“The important thing is, they believe it,” Mac said. “I have to gather up kids. See you around?”
“Yeah, probably. I won’t head out without giving you a call, how’s that. ”
“Good enough. I can at least give you directions out of here. ”
Cooper let the majority of the crowd disperse; the line of cars and buses leaving the parking lot was moving real slow and he was parked at the back of the overflow lot. He had a bad feeling he was going to be left to forage for food back in his trailer. The crowd was likely headed for the few eateries in town. The kids might be headed for the beach, but that didn’t worry him. After a game like that, he was happy for them to have a place to celebrate.
There was a lot of horn honking, yelling, cheering and general enthusiastic mania going on. Cooper stood right where he’d been sitting, watching it all for fifteen or twenty minutes. He was at the fifty yard line, about ten rows up. The Badgers were headed for their buses; the lights in the stadium were cracking off one by one, leaving him in the shadows. He was surprised to find that attending a high school football game in a little town, not even his town, was the most fun he’d had in a while. He’d been sweating under his sweater and jacket, that’s how much the tension of the game got to him. Other than joining his family at nieces’ and nephews’ events on rare occasions, this was a first for him. At least since his own high school experience, which had been a little like Landon’s. Except he hadn’t been a quarterback.
He sat down for a minute, elbows on knees, looking out at the dark field. He thought for a moment what it must be like to be Mac—the law of the town, at the heart of the town, surrounded by all this excitement and connection, friends, family and something pulling at him every second. For a second he was envious, even though Cooper could go skiing in the Alps next week if he felt like it and Mac definitely could not. Mac was probably saving for college.