Between Sundays

  Bill didn’t act offended. He only chuckled, dismissing Aaron. “You’ll come around. Guys like you need to mix with your own kind.”

  Aaron ended both calls before things got too strained. The conversation he needed to have with Bill wasn’t one they could have with his agent chuckling on the other end of a phone line.

  Aaron ran the bar of soap over his aching biceps and under his arms. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the fog in his head was depression. Something he’d never even considered.

  When he was dressed, he grabbed his bag and kept his head low. Derrick caught up with him just as he was heading out to the parking lot. “Hey, man…talk to me.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re doing it again.” Derrick put his hands on his hips. “You’re lying to me.”

  “No.” Aaron tried to find a smile. “I need some time, that’s all.” He appreciated his teammate more than the guy knew. But he needed to be alone now. Being in Derrick’s presence only made him feel worse about himself. All he had to offer was glitz and looks and athletic ability. The deeper places—the places that shone brightest for Derrick Anderson and even for Jay Ryder—were for Aaron draped in cobwebs.

  Derrick studied him. “All right, but I’m warning you, man.”

  Aaron waited. He wasn’t quite able to look his friend in the eyes.

  “I’m talking to God about you, Hill.” He shook his head. “Mmm-hmmm, let me tell you, when someone starts talking to God about you, look out.”

  “Yeah?” He looked at Derrick.

  “Oh, yeah. Changes start happening so you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror.” He took a step closer and gave Aaron the sort of hearty hug typical between athletes. “I’m here if you need me, man. Seriously.”

  He coughed and tried to find his voice. He wanted to thank his friend, but all he could manage was, “See ya.” Then he hurried outside to his Hummer.

  As he neared it, a slim blonde woman wearing a short dress and heels stepped out from behind one of the other player’s cars.

  She blocked his path and batted her eyes at him. “Hey, Aaron.”

  He vaguely recognized her. Once maybe a year or so ago they’d shared a night together, he was pretty sure. Now the thought of that, the way it was empty and meaningless, made him sick to his stomach. But the familiar temptation was there too. He stopped and shifted his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. For a few seconds he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to get control. He lifted his chin and averted his eyes. “Hey.”

  “It’s been too long.” She ran her finger down the length of his arm. “I’m free tonight…let’s find somewhere quiet for dinner.”

  Aaron worked the muscles in his jaw. He’d used the blonde for his own selfish pleasure, and she wasn’t even bothered by the fact. Not outwardly, anyway. And worse, his body was responding to her touch, reminding him of the pleasures that could lay ahead tonight if he were willing. He breathed in sharply through his nose and then looked straight in her eyes. “Look, I can’t tonight.” He broke eye contact and stared blankly at a point beyond her. “I’m busy.”

  The girl’s face turned red, and she stumbled for something to say. Her expression grew softer, sexier. She took a step closer. “What I have in mind …won’t take all night, Aaron.” She put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers working small delicate circles on his upper back. “You sure you’re busy?”

  The familiarity of the moment intensified the struggle. Aaron stared at his shoes and considered her offer, the way a night like those he had experienced so often before might ease his burden for a while. But then what? He pictured Megan, her determination to make life right for an orphaned boy, and he pressed his lips together.

  In a rush, he pushed the young woman’s hand off his shoulder and took a step back. “Go find some other football player.” He snarled at her, the feelings of temptation quickly giving way to disgust. “I told you I’m busy.”

  Without another look at her, he walked past her to his Hummer.

  “Aaron…” He could hear her walking toward him. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong…maybe we can just have coffee somewhere…maybe we—”

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door before she could finish her sentence. He hated the girl for trying to make him give in, and he hated the fact that he’d slept with her before.

  As he drove off, he realized something else. He hated his car. Everyone in the city knew he drove a Hummer, and at stoplights he was often recognized by other drivers. For what? So he could make it clear to the world he was Aaron Hill, that he had enough money to drive an expensive car? So he could feel bigger than life on the field and off?

  The cell phone on his console vibrated and he punched a button.

  “Hey, Hill…good game.” Bill Bond’s voice filled the car.

  “It wasn’t good, and you know it.” Aaron gripped the wheel and picked up speed as he entered the freeway. “I’ve been in the league seven years, Bill. You don’t need to blow smoke at me.”

  “So it wasn’t our best showing.” Bill’s voice was upbeat as usual. “Got the whole season ahead, friend…not to worry!” He barely paused. “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend and you don’t make it up to the box to say hello after the game? I mean, come on, Hill. I had three brokers I wanted you to meet.”

  “I didn’t feel good.” Aaron switched lanes and settled back into his seat. He needed a meeting with Bill, but he would let his agent do the talking first. “What’s up?”

  “Strategy.” He dropped the friendly tone, and his voice took on an urgency. “This is a big year for you, Hill. Very big. Everyone in the business is whispering about it being time. You prove yourself now, or maybe you’re not all America had you cracked up to be.”

  “Maybe I’m not.”

  Bill paused, and then he let loose another short burst of laughter. “Yeah, well, this isn’t a joke, friend.”

  In college, and even in the years after signing his pro contract, Aaron had liked how Bill called him friend. The word seemed an accurate reflection of the relationship he shared with his agent, the way the guy looked out for him. Aaron usually felt comforted by the fact, reminded that Bill wasn’t only interested in making money off him, but in caring for his career, his future. The way a friend would care.

  Lately the word grated on Aaron’s nerves. It felt cheap and forced and saccharin. Bill never asked how he was or how he might be feeling, why his game had struggled tonight, for instance. His calls were always about strategy and key meetings and endorsements. Things good for Bill’s bottom line.

  His agent was going on about a new plan, something he’d discussed with some marketing people at one of his big sports clothing sponsors. “Here’s the deal…” Bill picked up speed as he went along, practically stumbling over his own words in his excitement over this new venture, whatever it was. “Okay, so at the meeting we all decided your image needs an update. The foster kid thing was nice short-term, but it’s not enough.”

  Anger rose quickly in Aaron’s gut. He was tempted to push the Off button, but strangely Bill’s monologue fascinated him in a twisted sort of way. It was like looking in the mirror and seeing what he’d become, what he’d let himself become.

  “So…” Bill was clearly winding up, “we all agreed it was time you got married.”

  “Married?” Aaron was so caught off guard he nearly rear-ended the car in front of him. He hit his brakes. “Are you kidding me? A marketing meeting can’t decide my personal life.”

  “Of course not.” His agent rushed ahead. “You’ll pick the lucky lady. I mean, come on, Hill.” He laughed. “You have some say, after all.”

  Aaron clenched his jaw and waited.

  “Here’s the reason. You’ve been single all these years and it’s been a good thing. Good for your image. Boys and teenagers and college kids, all of them could relate to you. Best quarterback in the league, a fearless gunslinger admired by women around the country. Around th
e world!” His tone changed. “But you’re almost thirty, my friend. Stay single after thirty and you lose some appeal. Guys have less ability to relate to you, understand?”

  Aaron gritted his teeth. “That’s garbage, Bill. No one makes a corporate decision to get married. I’m not even dating anyone.”

  “Good.” He sounded beyond relieved. “As a side note, I did some checking at the Mission Youth Center on that woman you asked to the Raiders game. Megan Gunn.”

  Aaron couldn’t remember giving Bill her name. But he wasn’t surprised that his agent found out. He had a way of knowing whatever Aaron was involved in, something that even a year ago had brought Aaron comfort. Not anymore. He felt his anger double. “I don’t believe this.”

  “She’s not your type, friend. She’s a single mother, of course. But more than that—her mother was a drug user, a street person. You probably don’t know, but this…this Megan has several jobs—none of them high paying. She dropped out of college and she apparently has no plans to complete her degree.”

  “So basically she’s poor.” Aaron’s voice seethed with rage.

  “Slow down, there. It’s more than that. She’s a single mother.” He paused. “How would that look? Everyone who saw you together would wonder if maybe the kid was yours. Otherwise why would you spend so much time with him?” He whistled low. “An illegitimate kid, I’m telling you that would be bad, Hill. Very bad.”

  Aaron wanted to know about the rest of the marketing meeting. “So your little strategy session, who do you think I should marry? Did you figure that out?”

  “Not exactly.” He laughed again. “But I’ve been telling you about the A-listers, the actresses and the singer. I know you don’t agree yet, but Hill, you have to think about it. There’s some real potential there.”

  “Potential?” Aaron felt his face growing hot. More amazing than his agent’s plan was the fact that he was serious. He truly thought he could plan Aaron’s marriage at a marketing meeting.

  “Starlets. That’s the trend. Big name entertainers have their agents contact the agents of certain star football players. A meeting is set up and voila! Instant romance.” Again, he barely stopped long enough to breathe. “The marketing gurus think a wedding with one of the top stars could raise your endorsement worth a million dollars a year or more. I mean, talk about your win-win situations. It’d be the top news for a month.”

  His anger became a sick feeling that hit with a vengeance. Aaron needed all his concentration to focus on the road. “So just flip through the tabloids and pick out a starlet?”

  “No.” Bill sounded hurt. “Nothing like that.” His voice changed, as if this next part was top secret information. “The fact is, those inquiries I told you about, they’re legit, Hill. A couple phone calls and the first meeting’s a done deal.”

  That was it. He couldn’t take another minute. “Look, Bill. I’m on the road. I’ll call you back.” He stabbed his finger at the Off button. Was his agent out of his mind? Or was this how Bill had always acted? His agent thought nothing of telling Aaron this was the year he should get married, that he might be worth another million or so if he did. Because he’d been making calls like this one since he first gained Aaron’s trust.

  A starlet? Aaron shook his head, his breath hissing out in disbelief as he replayed the conversation in his mind. A big wedding, something the newspapers and ESPN and the tabloids could all get excited about. Everyone but him. He leaned back in his seat and exhaled long and slow.

  He didn’t want to marry a movie star, someone more self-centered than he’d always been. If he were going to marry some day, he would choose someone different.

  He thought about that for a moment. He’d never really explored his feelings before, but he suddenly realized he’d prefer a woman who couldn’t care less that he was Aaron Hill, famous quarterback. He’d had enough of the shallow women he picked up in bars across the country. Women like the one he’d pushed away in the parking lot tonight. No, he wanted someone with depth. A woman with strength and determination and intellect. Perhaps a woman who understood the virtue of volunteer work and helping the less fortunate. Someone whose faith and honor shone from the depths of her heart. Who was willing to work three jobs so she could pay rent and keep food on the table. A woman with dark hair and fine features and unforgettable blue eyes.

  The sort of woman he’d been avoiding every day for the past few weeks.

  A woman named Megan Gunn.

  Derrick and Denae prayed with their kids and went out on their upper deck to talk. It was late, and already they’d told the kids they could miss the first half of tomorrow’s school day. That was their tradition whenever Derrick’s team played a Monday night game.

  It felt good to fall into the patio chair outside their bedroom slider. Derrick worked his fingers into the muscles above his right knee. “Long day.”

  “Definitely.” She made a curious face. “Something’s wrong with Aaron. Did you feel it tonight?”

  He sighed and gripped the arms of his chair. “Baby, I think the whole country felt it.”

  “I was ready to walk down there and give Coach a piece of my mind.” She huffed. “Keep my baby on the bench when the game’s falling apart.”

  Derrick smiled. “Mighta helped.”

  She crossed her arms. “That Cardinal team isn’t so great. You could’ve won the game with one hand tied behind your back.”

  “That’s my baby.” Derrick allowed a quiet bit of laughter. “Still my number one fan.”

  “No one loves you better.” Her attitude still sounded in her voice. “I could barely sit there watching that young guy mess things up.”

  A softness filled Derrick’s heart. “Aaron’s got it bad, that’s for sure.”

  Denae’s tone lifted some. “So what’s the problem? Do I need to talk to the boy?”

  “No.” Derrick stared out at the moon on the water. The bay was so beautiful. It was one more way he felt God’s favor on him this season—even if winning the Super Bowl was a long shot. “Remember, baby, we talked about how God brought me here for a reason.”

  “I know.” She still had some frustration in her expression. She brushed her hand in front of her. “So why does He park you on the bench through a nail-biter like tonight?”

  His answer was slow in coming. “Because maybe He brought me here for Aaron Hill.”

  “Yeah. You’ve said that before.” She sounded doubtful. “You really think that, baby?”

  “I do. God’s working in that young man.” He made a fist and pressed it to his heart. “I can feel it deep inside.”

  “Could be indigestion after a game like that.” She muttered the words under her breath. Then she turned and faced him. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy. But tonight…he wasn’t trying, baby. You’da done better.”

  “I don’t know.” Derrick leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and stroked his chin. “This season’s something special, Denae. It’s like God’s working out a bunch of miracles all at once.” He turned to her. “Really.”

  She was quiet for a long time. Then she reached out and took his hand. “So maybe next time Coach’ll put you in?”

  Derrick smiled again. “Maybe even that.”

  Neither of them said anything about Derrick’s promise to Lee, or the fact that this was his last season to make good on it. Winning a Super Bowl wasn’t something a player could control by himself. It wasn’t something a team could will, either. Every team in the NFL wanted a trophy at the end of the run. Besides, Denae was right—Aaron looked weak out there. He’d struggled bad against a team that figured to finish in the bottom half.

  Maybe that’s exactly the way God wanted tonight to go. Maybe it would get worse before things started moving full speed ahead. That way when they all stood around at the end of the season marveling at the victories on and off the field, they would know for certain they hadn’t found their way there by hard work and determination.

  But by God alone.

>   EIGHTEEN

  Megan was making macaroni and cheese in a pot on the stove, and Cory was sitting at the kitchen table reading Tom Sawyer from the school library. The radio was tuned to a country station, and a song about miracles was playing. Megan hummed along, but even then, Cory’s silence hurt.

  Megan had told him the truth about Aaron, and since then, Cory had been much quieter, less excited and talkative. The furor over Aaron Hill’s involvement in their lives had dropped off now that it had been three weeks since their outing to the park. Megan understood Cory’s disappointment. But she wished there was a way to get through to him that the truth wasn’t her fault.

  The problem was he still believed the fantasy. Which was exactly what Megan had feared all along. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she’d taken the wrong approach with the news. Maybe Aaron should’ve been the one to set him down and explain that no, he wasn’t Cory’s father. That way, maybe Cory could hardly refute the fact.

  She glanced at him, but he was lost in the book. He’d been reading more lately, books and not the newspaper. He still tuned in for the games, glued to every play—especially Monday night when Aaron pulled the game out in the last quarter. But Cory didn’t talk about the 49ers as much as usual.

  They’d been at the youth center late tonight, taking part in an informal tournament of three-on-three games. It was after seven, and she and Cory were both hungry. She stared into the pot and willed the water to boil.

  “Megan?”

  “Yes?” She looked up, careful to smile at the boy.

  “Did Tom Sawyer have a dad?” He planted his elbow on the table and cocked his head.

  The question took Megan’s breath. God, do You hear this child? How can I ever be enough for him when all he wants is a father? She sighed, but not so loud that he could hear her. “I don’t know, buddy. What do you think?”

  “Well…” Cory looked back at the open book on the table. “He musta had a dad somewhere. Because everyone has a father.” He lifted his eyes and met hers.