Between Sundays (17 page)

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 the 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.

M
egan 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.

His point was well-taken in a biological sense. “That’s true.” She stirred the spoon through the water and noodles again. “But not every father knows how to be a dad. Sometimes they miss out on their child’s entire life. A boy like Tom Sawyer might never have known his dad, not ever.”

Cory furrowed his forehead and studied the book again. “I think Tom Sawyer had a dad. Maybe the author didn’t write that chapter.”

“Maybe.” Megan stared at the noodles again, but this time her vision blurred. How could she adopt a boy who was so desperate for a daddy? She was still pondering the question when the phone rang. She set the spoon on the countertop and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Ms. Gunn?” Aaron Hill’s voice filled the line.

Megan’s heart skipped a beat. Why was he calling now, after three weeks of silence? “Yes?”

“I’m parked out front.” He sounded unsure of himself. “It being a Friday night and all…I wondered if you and Cory would like dinner out at Pier 39?”

She stared at the packet of powdered cheese mix on the counter. Then she caught herself. It didn’t matter how good dinner at the pier sounded. They didn’t need Aaron’s charity, and there could be no other reason why he was here. She turned her back on Cory. “Tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why dinner? Why now?”

He exhaled and his frustration was evident. “Can you come down here, Megan. Please.”

She hesitated, but then she felt herself giving in. He’d driven all the way out here. He deserved the chance to explain himself. “Just a minute.” She hung up the phone, turned off the stove, and stared at Cory. “Be right back, okay?”

“Where’re you going?” He’d been too lost in the book to figure out who was on the phone.

“Downstairs. I have to talk to someone.”

“Okay.” Cory didn’t look interested. He focused on the book again. “Is dinner almost ready?”

“Almost.” She slipped on her sandals, and as she hurried out the door and down the stairs, she ran her fingers through her hair. No matter how she’d reacted on the phone, it felt wonderful to hear his voice again. But what was she thinking? She reached the last few stairs and slowed her pace as she moved toward the door. She was as bad as Cory, fantasizing that Aaron Hill had changed into a gentleman, and more, that she could ever trust a guy like him with any piece of her heart.

More likely, the youth center had showed him a side of life he hadn’t acknowledged before. Now he was focusing his attentions on Cory and her as a way of making up for times when he hadn’t thought of those less fortunate than himself. In other words, he probably saw them as a charity case. She took a steadying breath. She would thank him profusely for coming and explain that they were getting along fine. They didn’t need his favors.

She opened the door and scanned the street for his Hummer. It took a few seconds to realize he was right in front of her, in the driver’s seat of a light gray pickup truck. It was newer, a full-size with rear doors and a long bed. But it had none of the sparkle of the Hummer. She wrinkled her eyebrows, curious, just as he stepped out and met her near the doorway of the apartment building.

He must’ve realized she was looking for his Hummer, because he nodded to the truck. “I traded it.”

“Really?” Megan narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah.” He kept a polite amount of distance between them. “I needed a change.” His eyes met hers and held. “In a lot of areas.”

Megan wasn’t sure what to say in response, so she crossed her arms and looked down at the cement for a few beats.

“Now.” His voice was soft. “You were saying?”

Something about his tone washed over her like a caress, and her cheeks suddenly felt hot. She was saying? She swallowed hard and tried to remember their conversation from a few minutes ago. But his nearness was unnerving, breaking down her defenses and leaving her unsure of even a single reason why she and Cory wouldn’t have dinner out on the pier with him. She lifted her eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Aaron.” It was the first time she’d used his given name, the first time she hadn’t been completely on her guard. Because there was no reason now. She wanted to be transparent before him. “I told him you’re not his father.”

Aaron slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. Pain shaded his expression. “How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t.” She laughed, but it held a hidden cry, a sound of defeat. “He told me he’ll believe forever that you’re his dad.”

Aaron hesitated and then turned halfway around, his eyes raised to the sky. After a few seconds, he looked back at her. “That’s so sad.”

“I know.” A chill hung in the air, and she crossed her arms more tightly. “That’s what I mean. You don’t owe us a night out.” She lifted one shoulder. “You’ve done enough.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed and he took a step back. He seemed to be searching for the words. Finally he came closer again, his eyes locked on hers. “Maybe this isn’t about Cory. Maybe I just want to take you out to dinner.”

“Why?” Again, she felt defeated. She uncrossed her arms, held up her hands, and let them fall to her side. “I’m not your type. You…” She looked into the air between them, as if the answers might be drifting by on the breeze. “You’re a celebrity, Aaron.” She thought about her life, her paper route and her shifts at Bob’s Diner, and she uttered a sad laugh. “We couldn’t possibly be more different.”

“Except one thing.” He reached out and touched her bare arm.

The feel of his fingers against her skin sent shockwaves through her body. A part of her couldn’t understand why she was fighting him so hard, when all she wanted to do was feel his arms around her. Her teeth chattered and she bit down to still them. “What?”

He looked deep at her, and the tenderness in his eyes was as real as the air they were breathing. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He made a lighthearted face. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Nothing works.”

She wanted to say that she knew the feeling. Because as sensible as she was, as much as she prided herself on being intelligent and a realist, she saw his face everywhere she looked. Even when she wasn’t watching the 49ers on TV. Instead she bit her lip. “I’m not ready, Aaron. I can be your friend, that’s all.”

Nothing in his expression changed, but the hint of a smile brightened his face. He let his hand fall back to his side. “I can handle that.”

“So.” She tilted her face, studying him, trying to figure him out. “Dinner at the pier?”

He nodded, and he looked up to the windows in the apartments above them. “Better go get Cory.”

Megan giggled. She stepped back, and then turned and ran lightly through the door and up the stairs. She had questions about herself. Why was she agreeing to this night when it couldn’t possibly lead anywhere, and how could she allow Cory to live out his fantasy by spending more time with Aaron? And when did Aaron become the sincere, genuine guy she’d just talked to down on the sidewalk? She silenced the questions as soon as they hit her. She had no answers, anyway. For now, maybe it didn’t matter. She and Cory didn’t have much, after all. And if this was the last time the two of them hung out with Aaron Hill, so be it. They’d at least have this: A night they would remember the rest of their lives.

Cory could hardly believe it.

Megan came rushing into the apartment and told him to get his shoes and his sweatshirt. They were having dinner with Aaron Hill. He took a minute to catch his breath over the idea, but then he closed his Tom Sawyer book and jumped up from the table. He wanted to say, “See, Megan, I told you so. Told you Aaron is my dad. ’Cause otherwise why would he come to take us for dinner?”

But he didn’t say that. He only hurried with his shoes and his sweatshirt, and tried to make his heart stop pounding so hard. The strange thing was that Aaron hadn’t said anything about the letter yet. Megan said he talked to her about it, and that he really wasn’t Cory’s dad.

Cory wasn’t so sure he really said that, ’cause why wouldn’t he just tell Cory and not Megan. Plus, if Aaron really didn’t believe Cory was his son, then that only meant it was Cory’s job to convince him. His mother hadn’t lied to him, definitely not. She would look right straight in his eyes every time she told him, “Aaron Hill’s your daddy, Cory. But it has to be our secret.”

He remembered those words coming from her as much as he remembered her saying that Aaron had been her friend in high school and how Aaron was only her friend until he asked her to some dance when they were seniors. A prom or something. Aaron Hill was his dad. That’s what she said. Megan always asked then why didn’t his mother ever tell Megan? That was a good question. Why didn’t she? That would’ve made everything much easier, ’cause then when she died, there wouldn’t be any confusion.

But his mother hadn’t expected to die. She got a cold and it went to her lungs and she died without making any plans about Cory’s father. That’s what happened. And so after Megan’s talk with him about Aaron not being his dad, Cory pulled out his special box, the one with the things from his mom. He had some letters she wrote to him, about how much she loved him and how she would always be there for him. Because that’s what she wanted, but God had other plans. That’s what Megan said.

Also in the box were the newspaper articles, the ones about Aaron. There was one from when he was doing great at UCLA his junior year, and people were talking about him being a pro one day soon. His mom went to a different college. Junior college. But still, she and Aaron were boyfriend and girlfriend. And there were a couple articles from the next year when Aaron won a lot of games and he got drafted in the first round, third pick by San Francisco. After that, she had two in the box from his first couple years as a 49er. Then she stopped cutting out stories about him.

Pictures were in the box too. Pictures of Cory when he was little and when he was learning to walk, and one of him and his mom on the first day of kindergarten. But that was all, ’cause she died after that.

But in the box there was also a big yellow envelope, and inside were three envelopes with Aaron’s name written across the front. Another one just said the word “PRIVATE.” All three were sealed tight, the way his mother had left them. A long time ago she taught him that you don’t open other people’s mail. So, even though lots of times Cory was tempted, he never opened the letters. ’Cause they belonged to Aaron.

And that sent a wave of excitement through him, because now Aaron came back! And maybe tonight, or maybe very soon, he would give Aaron the letters and then that would clear up any confusion. He tied his shoes and grabbed his sweatshirt, and then they hurried out the door.

Because it wouldn’t be nice to keep his dad waiting.