Between Sundays (12 page)
Authors: Karen Kingsbury
LEVEN
A
aron barely paid attention to the road as he made his way from the Mission District north to his home in a gated area of Nob Hill. His heart and head were spinning in different directions, making him wonder at his sanity.
Megan Gunn had turned him down flat. She wasn’t the least bit interested, and that was a first. For as long as Aaron could remember, girls had been easy for him. Women lined up to talk to him after games and practices, and in hotel lobbies across the country.
That’s why Amy had been so special. She wasn’t a groupie. Amy knew him in the deepest places of his soul, but since then he’d never let another woman get that close. There hadn’t been any need, and besides, he never wanted to let anyone that close ever again.
Until now.
Megan wasn’t glamorous or done up, the way the girls in his world were. She was too thin to be a cheerleader and her makeup would never stand out in a photo shoot. But her beauty stopped his heart each time he saw her. More than that, he was taken by her sheer determination and utter independence. The way she refused to call him Aaron, even.
He pulled into his driveway, parked his Hummer, and headed inside. Most game nights he dropped into his recliner and turned on ESPN. But not tonight. Tonight he needed quiet, so he could sort through the conversations from his time with Megan and Cory.
Mostly Megan. The boy was nice, but he was like any other kid. His constant chattering made it hard for Aaron to get to know Megan, hard for her to see who he really was. Still, until the very end of the evening, Aaron thought things were going great. Megan seemed relaxed and happy, like she was enjoying his company. Then at the end she pulled out the Mr. Hill thing.
And that’s when the whole night crashed and burned.
He wanted her number, of course. How else could he set up a date or have a conversation without the kid interrupting the whole time? He’d planned from the moment he suited up before the game to ask her if he could call. Not that he was very good at getting numbers. They were usually given to him, unsolicited.
Not once when he tried to imagine how the evening would go had he thought that when he’d ask for her phone number, Cory would pipe in and say he’d written it on his letter. How could he have remembered the boy’s statement about writing his phone number at the bottom of the letter? Or known that Megan would figure out the minute he asked her for it that he hadn’t read the letter?
He groaned and let his head fall back against the recliner. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered the kid saying something about a phone number back at the youth center. How could he be so stupid? The first time he’d lied to the kid about the letter, he’d made a mental note: next time he opened his locker, he’d dig around the bottom and find the envelope. Then he’d read it, so the next time he saw the boy he could look him in the eyes and talk about whatever he’d written.
After spending an evening with the kid, Aaron could pretty well write the letter himself.
Dear Aaron, you’re my favorite player…I’ve been watching you since I was two…I’ve waited all my life to meet you…I’m the biggest 49ers fan in the whole city,
etc., etc., etc.
The last part of the night hadn’t worked out at all like he planned. He actually figured maybe he’d walk her and Cory up to their front door—or as it turned out—up to their apartment. He imagined Megan getting Cory off to bed, and the two of them sitting around her dining room table drinking coffee and getting to know each other. A kiss wasn’t out of the question the way he first imagined it.
Frustration simmered in his belly. The boy would’ve loved it if Aaron came up with them. Megan had cut the possibility short. It was only nine o’clock when he dropped them off. And they had all day Sunday to get his homework done, but Aaron could hardly argue with her. Megan had her mind made up before they pulled up in front of her apartment.
He closed his eyes and imagined her home, her neighborhood. It was only a few blocks from the youth center, a neighborhood that was rough in the daytime. At night a single mother like Megan shouldn’t even consider going outside. He’d read once in the
Chronicle
that the Mission District—the poorest in San Francisco—was also home to more kids per square block than any other in the city.
Kids like Cory.
He opened his eyes, stood, and wandered into the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the dishwasher. The housekeeper must’ve started it before she left, because the door was still warm. He thought about Megan and Cory. They didn’t have a car, clearly. Like so many people, they probably walked and took the BART everywhere. No telling how they’d made it to the game earlier that day.
He sighed. Maybe that’s why he was taken with Megan Gunn. She was a fighter, a survivor. How else could she be a single mom to Cory and still keep food on the table?
He realized then that he hadn’t once asked her what she did. As if somehow being a foster mother might be her only job. But that wasn’t possible. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have any sort of home at all. Money from the state for foster care paid only enough for a few trips to the grocery store. Derrick had told him that.
Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He took his cell phone from his pocket and found Derrick’s number. Coach had made them swap numbers first day of spring training. Before he hit the Send button he stopped himself. He had nothing in common with Derrick Anderson. He had it bad for a pretty girl, that’s all. The whole foster thing meant nothing to him.
He snapped his phone shut, but he could hear Coach Cameron’s voice. “Hill, make sure you have Anderson’s number. You never know when you might need advice from a champion.”
At the time, he couldn’t imagine himself ever picking up the phone and making that call.
And that was still how he felt even a few days later when practice was back in session. The confusion with Megan Gunn and the secret to understanding her might be something Derrick could help with. But Derrick was a smart guy. He’d know that Aaron wasn’t interested in foster kids. He’d probably accuse Aaron of seeking another conquest. And Megan was more than that. At least Aaron thought she was more.
Practice was drawn out and Aaron found himself watching Derrick. No question, on the field he could learn from Derrick. The guy had already won more games than most quarterbacks win in a lifetime. But now, with the sting of Megan’s words still echoing in his mind, a conversation with Derrick Anderson wasn’t going to make him feel better. Because the guy wasn’t only a champion on the field. He was a champion at life.
Something Aaron hadn’t ever wanted to be.
Chuck Cameron stepped into his office and grabbed his water bottle. He walked to his window, the one overlooking the practice field. Whether this was his last season or not, he would always be grateful for his time in San Francisco. He couldn’t hold it against the owners if they fired him this year. A team led by Aaron Hill should win the Super Bowl at least once in so many years of dominance. The temperature outside was cool, though the clouds overhead had broken up an hour ago. The break in the heat was nice. They’d gone through a lot today, and they had much more still to do tomorrow. If they were going to finish the preseason strong and make a serious run at the title, the team needed to be prepared.
And they would make a serious run. Management had left them no option.
He turned his back to the window and leaned on the sill. A week ago, he could almost feel their slim chances at a Super Bowl season dissolving like sand through his fingers. Aaron Hill was hanging out at bars, getting in trouble with girls, and distracting the team. But now…well, now at least the media recognized a show of character in the team’s franchise quarterback. Hill’s Friday night stint at the Mission Youth Center was a good start. But that had more to do with Hill’s pushy agent. If they were going to make a run at a championship, the changes in Aaron would have to be more than smoke and mirrors, more than an agent making a call to a few local reporters. No, he couldn’t change Aaron Hill any more than he could will his team to win every game. But he could pray about both situations and let God bring the victories.
Chuck sighed, and a tired laugh slipped past his lips. The front office could fire him if they wanted. He wasn’t going to change his ways now. No, he hadn’t won the big game, but not every win could be notched on a playing field.
His precious niece Paige had reminded him of that just this morning. Chuck’s kids were grown, but Paige, at eight years old, had taken a special liking to her uncle. Her mother—Chuck’s sister—must’ve told the girl that this year was especially important for her Uncle Chuck. Whatever the reason, Paige had been calling him once a week. Just to say she was praying for him.
In the off-season, Chuck and his wife had spent time at his sister’s house, so he had a chance to watch Paige. The girl had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a heart of gold. When the good Lord talked about having the faith of a child, Chuck’s guess was that he had Paige Rathbun in mind. The child was a ray of sunlight for her older sister, Katie, and her little brother, John. She sang in the church choir and prayed as easily as she breathed, and whether she knew a person or not, Paige’s hellos were accompanied with a hug.
During Chuck’s visit, Paige was instrumental in rescuing a golden retriever from an animal trap in the woods behind her family’s home. Paige didn’t see the dog as an inconvenience. “He’s a gift from God,” she said.
The same way Paige was a gift.
Chuck remembered the child’s words from earlier today. “Sometimes God gives us hard things, don’t you think so, Uncle Chuck?”
Chuck thought about Aaron Hill. “Yes, Paige. I think He does that sometimes.”
“You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because He loves us enough to help us grow up.”
Chuck let the words run through his mind again. He might lose his job this season, but he wouldn’t lose his faith. Paige’s phone calls always helped him remember that much.
As for Aaron, if he came out of the season a changed man, a man driven to make a difference in his community, and with even half the faith of Derrick Anderson, then Chuck would have the victory he’d been looking for. He grabbed his clipboard and flipped off the office lights. No matter what the outcome, he didn’t need a trophy in the front office at the end of the season to prove he’d done his best with this group of athletes.
But it would be nice to have a job.
WELVE
A
aron was headed toward his locker after practice when Jay Ryder caught up to him.
“I gotta tell you something.” Jay’s jersey was damp, his face streaked with sweat. He’d taken more snaps than usual today and spent a lot of time at the bottom of the pile. “I like that you’re real, Hill. I can learn from you.”
Aaron shifted his weight. He looked around to see if Jay’s comment was some kind of a prank. “How’s that?”
“The whole foster kid thing. I’m really into it, man. Just like you. Talked to my financial guy, and I might actually start a foundation, set up scholarships.”
Aaron grabbed a water bottle from a passing trainer. He had no idea where his teammate was going with this. “Where do I come in?”
“I hate to say it”—he looked at the ground, a grin pulling at his lips—“I thought that first time you went to the youth center it was just a media stunt.” His smile faded. “But I heard the coaches talking about you going again tonight, and I was impressed. Seriously, man.”
Aaron twisted the cap off the water bottle. He’d considered going back—so he could see Megan again. Only he couldn’t find the letter, the one from Cory. At least not near the top of the junk in his locker. And he could hardly face Megan without finally reading what the kid wrote. Not only that, but two voice mail messages from his agent and a comment from Coach Cameron had soured him on the idea of another visit to the youth center. Everyone wanted him to have this save-the-world image, but why? Wasn’t it enough that he stayed out of trouble without turning into a bleeding heart? He wasn’t Derrick Anderson. No one could push him to be something he wasn’t.
Jay was looking hopeful, and Aaron wasn’t sure what to say. He could go, couldn’t he? Jay was counting on him, apparently, and if Megan was there, then maybe he could turn things around for the two of them.
“Yeah…” He took a long swig of water. “Wouldn’t miss it. You, uh…you riding with Derrick?”
“Not tonight. Derrick wants to get right home afterward.”
“I can drive. You live close.” And like that, Aaron and Jay worked out the details.
A few hours later Aaron picked up his younger teammate and the two headed for the youth center. Jay was pensive from the beginning. “I mean, I think about my life and all. How good I’ve had it.” He hung his elbow out the open window. “I’m only four years older than some of those kids. Four years.”
Aaron wasn’t in the mood for a talk on charity work, but he had no choice. Jay was a nice kid, and Aaron cared what the guy thought. They could be playing together for a long time still.
Jay stared out the windshield. “Four years ago if someone wished me luck and sent me out on my own, I never woulda made it. And that’s what happens to these kids.”
“Sad.” Aaron switched lanes and picked up speed. Maybe he could find Megan and pull her aside, tell her she was right. He hadn’t read the letter because he lost it. That might help.
Jay tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Makes me wanna do something, you know? Join up with Derrick and you and really make a difference. Change some laws.” He shook his head. “Something.”
“I know what you mean.” Aaron checked the time on the clock radio. Five more minutes and they’d be there. He’d look for Megan first off.
“I keep thinking about what Derrick said. You know…how in the end people won’t remember us by our wins and losses on game day, but for what we do between Sundays. It’s true, isn’t it?”
Aaron glanced at his rearview mirror. “Definitely.”
Jay kept up the conversation until they were walking through the youth center’s double doors. By then Aaron had tuned him out, tossing back a few single syllable answers to give Jay the sense of an attention span.
Sure enough, he spotted Megan as soon as he walked into the gym, and she saw him too. She looked his way, but then she turned her attention to another of the volunteers. About the same time, Cory spotted him. The boy lit up and ran toward him, and for the slightest moment, Aaron felt the pings of regret. The kid probably thought Aaron was there to see him.
“Aaron, you came!” Cory hugged him around the waist. “How was practice?”
“Good.” He stared past the boy and watched Megan disappear through a door at the back of the gym. “How ’bout you?”
Cory’s eyebrows sprang up. “You remembered? About my soccer?” He took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Wow, yeah…practice was great.”
Aaron wasn’t really listening. He found Cory’s eyes again. “How’s your foster mom?”
The kid’s expression fell. “She’s good. Really busy, that’s all. I asked if we could go watch a practice, but she had to work.”
Aaron had a dozen questions. Where did she work, and what were her hours, and how would she have taken Cory to the practice facility in Santa Clara in the first place. But he held back. Instead, he patted Cory on the head. “Gotta get up front with the guys.” He motioned to the pizza table. “Bring me a few slices of pepperoni, okay?”
“Sure!” Cory took off as if getting pizza for Aaron was a timed event.
The first hour blended into the second, and the whole time Aaron kept his eyes on the far end of the room. Whatever Megan was doing in the back of the building, it was taking all her time. Surely, she had to have seen him, but she was making herself clear. She wasn’t interested in talking to him.
He was frustrated, ready to leave with Jay, when Megan entered the gym with a dishrag in her hand. She tossed it on the first table and dried her hands on her jeans. Then for the first time that night, she looked directly at Aaron.
Cory was still hanging around, asking questions and getting a little annoying. He stood a few feet away from Aaron most of the night, waiting while Aaron talked to the other kids, and interjecting whenever he had the chance. Now, though, as Megan approached, he ran to her and joined her as she walked up.
Aaron wanted the kid to take a break, go to the restroom or something. But before he could say something, Megan put her hand on his shoulder. “Go see if they need more help in the kitchen, okay?”
“Okay.” Cory looked ready to protest, but he set his jaw and jogged toward the back of the gym.
“He’s a good boy.” Aaron meant it. Even if the boy was a little too determined, he was considerate of Aaron’s time with the other kids, and he was polite. “Best manners of any kid at the center.”
The gym was almost empty. Megan kept a few feet between them and she crossed her arms. “His mother did a great job with him. She left big shoes when she died.”
Jay was finishing up with the last few teenagers. As they left, he turned to Aaron and Megan. “I’m going to find the director, talk about some other ways I could help.”
Aaron felt his heart rate quicken. With Cory and Jay gone, maybe he could finally figure out what was bugging Megan, why she’d kept her distance all night. He found her eyes, and tried to see past the walls there. “You were busy tonight.”
“I was.” She didn’t break eye contact, and while her voice wasn’t angry or bitter, it was definitely cool. “Did you read his letter?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.” He leaned against the wall and slid one foot up. “I can’t find it. Should be in my locker, but maybe I dropped it that first day. Janitors might’ve found the envelope and tossed it.”
“Well.” Megan shrugged one shoulder. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guess that’s your loss, then.” She hesitated.
Aaron’s mind raced for something to say. He wanted to salvage the moment, but their conversation was unraveling like a cheap sweater. “I’d still like to take you and Cory out again, if that’s okay?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hill.” She took a step back. “I don’t see the point. But thank you for coming tonight. The kids loved it.” With that, she nodded her goodbye, turned and walked across the gym to the back. She found her dishrag and began wiping down a table.
Aaron watched her, and his frustration mixed with anger. She made him feel like a socially inept schoolboy. Never mind that her face haunted him day and night, or that she was the first woman to actually turn him down. If she didn’t want anything to do with him, so be it. He would leave the situation alone. But he would do one thing when he hit the practice facility Monday. He would take a few minutes and really dig through his locker. That way he could find Cory’s letter and finally read it, the way he should’ve done from the beginning. And whether he ever used it or not, he would have the one thing he’d wanted for the past few weeks.
Megan Gunn’s phone number.
Aaron ran out of time before practice, but now their final set of sprints was wrapping up. He finished the last of three runs and jogged toward the locker room. All day he’d felt uncomfortable, frustrated with himself. The weekend had been a total waste. First, the pizza party at the youth center, and then a loss to Denver on Saturday. If that wasn’t enough, he’d spent Sunday evening at a party thrown by his agent, Bill Bond. The guests were a mix of financial planners, stock brokers, and real estate investors. That sort of thing.
“Glad to see you made another appearance at the youth center.” His agent stayed by his side for most of the party. “You did your good deed for the weekend. Now you wouldn’t want to be anyplace but here.” He nodded at a group of guys across the room. “Big hitters, Hill, all of them. A couple of these real estate giants could turn five million into ten in a year.”
Aaron grabbed a towel from the rack, flung it over his shoulders, and headed for his locker. He’d met every last one of the suits before the party was over. Because he always did what Bill said, and most people told him he was smart because of it. Bill was respected industry-wide, and whether his advice came on personal or financial matters, Aaron had always prospered because of it. But a dozen times through the night, he’d found himself wondering why it was so important that he turn five million into ten. And in just one year?
Last night the power guys at Bill’s party droned on in one conversation after another, and Aaron barely caught any of it. He was too busy thinking about Megan Gunn and Cory, about the life they lived, and about Megan’s determination to keep Aaron at bay.
There were women at the party too. Not the groupies he’d been known to hook up with, but sophisticated women, smart women. Daughters of senators and daughters of bankers. Women who handled the financial accounts of Fortune 500 companies. Aaron talked to ten of them, at least. But not one of them had a fraction of the passion he’d seen in the dark-haired foster mom. By the time he left the party, he was sure of just one thing.
If he could find the kid’s letter, he was going to call her. After all, she hadn’t really given him a chance.
Aaron’s phone rang just as he reached his locker. He checked the caller ID and felt his irritation rise. What was it with his agent? The guy was calling every day lately. “Hey, Bill.”
“Aaron, my man.” His agent laughed. Bill was always laughing. “Did you see the paper?”
“The
Chronicle
?”
“Yep, the big dog. Front page sports.” Another chuckle. “Looks like our publicity stunt worked.”
Aaron leaned against the bank of lockers. Everything about Bill was getting on his nerves. Until this year, he worried that he wouldn’t know what to do without Bill Bond, how to interact with the 49ers front office or the media, or even how to spend his money. But now—ever since Bill showed his disapproval of Megan at the Raiders game—the guy was bugging him. Aaron glanced at his teammates. A few feet away, Derrick and Jay had their lockers open too, but they were lost in conversation. Even so, Aaron didn’t want to be heard. He dropped his voice. “What stunt?”
“The youth center. The 49ers beat writer picked up on it. Headline reads, ‘Aaron Hill Shows His True Colors.’ Story talks about how your image took a hit a week earlier, but days after the girl dropped charges against you, there you were, giving back to a bunch of foster kids. The fact that you were there this past Friday night, too, only makes you look more genuine.” He snickered. “Almost sounds like it was your idea.”
Aaron shielded his eyes. He took a big breath and held it for a few seconds. Then he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. “First of all, it wasn’t a publicity stunt.” His tone was seething, but he kept his voice low. “I went because I wanted to go.”
Bill was silent for an extra beat. “This is Aaron Hill, quarterback of the 49ers, right?” He paused. “’Cause I thought I called Aaron Hill.”
“Shut up.” Aaron turned so his back was to Derrick and Jay. “Nobody makes me do something, got it? You suggested it, okay. But if I didn’t want to go, I woulda stayed home.”
“Okay.” Bill drew the word out, like he was talking to a troubled child. “Point made. Either way”—his tone lightened halfway to where it had been before—“it worked. The paper loves you, the city loves you. Your fans love you.” His laugh sounded defensive this time. “That’s all I was trying to say. A little thanks might be nice.”
“Do they know about the other night too?”
“You didn’t tell me you were going. Otherwise I could’ve made a call.”
“Do me a favor.” Aaron evened out his tone. His agent was only looking out for him. “Tell me before you contact the press on my behalf, okay?”
Bill drew a loud breath. “All right, then. Good talking to you. Don’t forget to call the real estate guy. He’s waiting for you.”
“Sure…fine.” Aaron snapped the phone shut, and for a few seconds he stared at the floor, calming himself down. He hadn’t thought about it before the Raiders game, but he was sick of being managed. He was going to be thirty this spring, and still he was like some sort of puppet. Whatever string Bill Bond pulled, Aaron jumped. With Megan that day at the park, Bill had lowered his voice and looked in her direction. “A foster mom, Hill? That the best you can do?”
Aaron hadn’t wanted to get into it. “I met her at the youth center.” He kept his voice light. “She and the boy have never been to a game.”
Bill nodded, his distaste showing in his expression. “Well, then…one game should be enough, right?” He patted Aaron on the back. “Good deed done!”
His agent’s message that day was unmistakable. Bill didn’t want to see Aaron hanging around a woman he thought beneath him. Period.
