Between Sundays (9 page)

T
hey were running forties when Derrick felt a snap in his right knee. Like a sudden wild fire, the pain exploded through his leg and up into his gut. He fell to the ground as a rush of legs passed him in a blur, and from somewhere near the middle of the field he heard a whistle.

“Stop. Everyone stop!” It was Coach Cameron.

No, God…not now. Please…

Coach was coming closer. He was a big guy, a former tackle, and he didn’t so much run as waddle toward Derrick. At the same time, Jay Ryder was at Derrick’s side, kneeling beside him. “What happened, man? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Derrick grimaced and held his knee, gripping it, willing the pain to subside. Even so, he couldn’t say the words, couldn’t articulate that the worst possible scenario was playing out. His right knee already bore scars on both sides from those times when a surgeon put back together what a linebacker had dismantled.

“One more injury to that knee and you’re done,” the doctor had told him last time.

So this couldn’t be it, not here at the beginning of his last season. He released his knee and sat upright. By then, Aaron Hill and a few other guys were making their way slowly back to him.

Coach Cameron reached him, huffing hard, his face creased with concern. “What happened, Anderson, talk to me.”

“I…I took a wrong step.” He felt the sweat beading up on his forehead, felt the nausea that came with the worst injuries. But he wasn’t giving in to it, not this time. He straightened his legs out in front of himself. “It’s nothing.” He ordered his lips to lift just enough for the slightest smile. “Really, Coach. I promise. Give me a few seconds.”

Doubt flickered in the coach’s eyes, but he gritted his teeth and took a step back. He waved at the others. “Keep running!”

Derrick leaned back on his hands and nodded to one of the trainers. “I’m fine, man. Really. Go on.”

Aaron watched from his place in line, but when their eyes met, he looked away. Even in the midst of a series of pain waves that took his breath, Derrick felt his frustration rise. Aaron had kept his distance since the pizza party, and once Derrick overheard him talking to a receiver about some hot brunette he’d met at the event. If that’s all he got from the outing, then where Aaron Hill was concerned, Derrick still had his work cut out for him.

Looking reluctant, Jay stood and joined Aaron. The two walked off, and Derrick stared at his right leg.
Come on, God…let me move it. Please.
He focused all his energy on the knee and then bent his leg and straightened it again. It hurt like crazy, but his ligaments weren’t torn. The injury was nothing like the two others that had sent him to the hospital—one during his third year in the NFL, and the other on the eve of his ten-year anniversary in the league. He’d been playing seventeen years now. Seventeen years. He knew better than anyone what his body was capable of.

The late afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders, adding to the sick feeling in his stomach.
You can do this, Anderson. Get up.
He pulled his good leg underneath himself, and with all his weight on that foot, he stood. The blood pounded through his injured leg, a half second slower than the pounding in his heart.
Please, God…

He looked across the practice field at the team. Everyone taking long swigs from their water bottles between their sprints. Off to one side, the coaches were gathered, talking, watching him. They’d paid a big chunk to get Derrick Anderson as their backup quarterback. So was this it? Was he through? Even from half a football field away, Derrick knew what they were saying.

Derrick still stood on just his left foot. The weight of his dangling right foot put pressure on his knee, as if his foot were being stretched away from his leg by some sort of mechanical vice grip. He rested his toes on the grass. How did it happen, anyway? They were running forty-yard dashes. The most basic drill in all of football.

The guys were starting their last set, so it was now or never. He was going to make his knee work, whatever the pain. The first few steps he stayed light on his right foot. The pain radiated out from his knee with any bit of weight, but it was a pain he could tolerate. Nothing was ripped or torn or broken. Derrick was convinced. One foot in front of the other, he moved toward the team and took the last twenty yards at a jog. No wincing, no tears. Nothing but forward movement.

Coach Cameron met him first. He stared at Derrick’s knee and then into his eyes. “You feel as good as you look?”

“I’m fine.” He ran a few steps in place. The pain throbbed through his body, but he could tolerate pain. He was a pro football player. The only question was whether the knee would hold him up, and it was. It would.

“Okay…” Coach raised his voice. “But get it checked out today.” He gave Derrick a final wary look, then turned his attention to the team. “Let’s line up…same groups.”

Derrick’s group was last, and he was glad for every minute of the break.

The quarterbacks ran in the same group with the kickers. They had four groups before it was their turn. Aaron came up beside him. “You okay?” His tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but his interest seemed genuine.

“What’s this? Aaron Hill gone soft?” Derrick laughed, and the release felt good. It was better than screaming.

“Never.” He gave Derrick’s shoulder a shove. “I want you at the top of your game, that’s all.” They were stepping up to the line, waiting for the whistle. Aaron winked at him. “Someone’s got to push me.”

The whistle blew and the group was off. The pain took Derrick’s breath, but he could still run. He finished middle of the pack and then jogged off to the sidelines for a drink. His season was still intact. If he had to play the next four months with pain in his knee, he would do it. Because this was his last chance. God had brought him here for a dozen reasons—but none of them would take place if he was on crutches.

Practice was long that day, and even without the injury Derrick would’ve felt the drain of it. That’s not what he was thinking about, though. For the past two weeks, with his family gone to Southern California, he’d come home from practice, sat in the hot tub for an hour, and then watched Sports Center while he stretched on the living room floor. Then he’d eat chicken and vegetables and hit the sack.

But not tonight.

Derrick pulled his Ford into the driveway of his hillside home. He’d been looking forward to this moment all day. His family had flown in during practice, and tonight he would see them for the first time in way too long. He babied his right leg as he swung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the front door. But before he could reach it, the screen swung open.

“Dad!” Larry, the oldest of his kids at almost sixteen, flew through the doorway, his arms outstretched.

Derrick braced himself and caught the boy in a full embrace. “Mmmm, you don’t know how good this feels.” He pulled back and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Look at you! You’re an inch taller!”

“Really?” Larry straightened himself. “Mom measured me. I’m almost six foot.”

Before Derrick could respond, the door opened again. His thirteen-year-old twins, Lonnie and Libby, came bursting out at the same time. There were more hugs and joyful shouts as the kids celebrated the fact that they were all together again. As they headed into the house, Libby circled her arm around his waist. “I met a boy at our hotel, Daddy.”

Derrick raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re thirteen, young lady.”

“Yeah, and the guy was seventeen.” Larry rolled his eyes. “He barely noticed she was alive.”

Relief eased his fears. He grinned at his daughter. “You trying to give me a heart attack, or what?”

Libby batted her eyelashes at him. “He was cute, that’s all.”

“Cute boys can wait.” Derrick kissed the top of her head. “Till you’re thirty-five or so.”

“Daaaaddy.” Libby giggled. She was straightening her hair now, and the little-girl look he so dearly loved had been replaced by a beauty that hinted at the way she would look as a woman. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered near his ear. “Mom can’t wait to see you. She bought a new pair of pants just for you.”

Butterflies danced around Derrick’s heart, and he realized in the rush of emotions that his knee didn’t hurt as bad as before. The pain would probably be gone in a few days. He caught a glimpse of blue sky as he walked into the house.
Thank You, God…for all of this, and my knee too. Thank You.

They walked straight to the kitchen, and there she was. Denae. The love of his life. She was tall and shapely, not one of those skinny women who usually made up the group of players’ wives. Denae carried a little extra on her hips, but the curves only made her more beautiful. She wore a pair of black slacks that flared out at her ankles. The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up. “Derrick, baby…” She had a dishtowel in her hands, and she tossed it on the counter.

“Denae…” He caught her in his arms and held her close to his chest. “I missed you, honey. So bad.”

She nuzzled against his neck. “That’s too long, Derrick. The last few days I almost jumped on a plane and came home early.”

He took a step back and surveyed her. “The pants are sexy.”

“Just for you.” She struck a pose, and the look in her eyes said more than her words. She took hold of his hands and pulled him close again. “Mmhmm. You’re a sight, Derrick Anderson. I never get tired of looking at you.”

“Mmmm.” He rocked her gently one way and then the other. “Nothing was the same with you gone.” He took a long sniff. “The house hasn’t smelled this good since you left.”

Denae flashed him a satisfied look. “The kids and I are making your favorite lasagna.” She picked up the spatula from the counter and held it in the air. “Right, kids?”

“Homemade noodles and everything.” Libby skittered past them and opened the oven door. The casserole inside looked like something from a magazine cover. “See, Daddy? Isn’t it perfect?”

“It is!” He stretched out his arms and shifted his weight. A pain shot through his knee, but he ignored it. He looked behind him at Larry and Lonnie, and then at his girls. “C’mere you guys. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

The excitement created a buzz that stayed with them through dinner. The lasagna was the best he’d ever had. Or maybe it just tasted that way since it felt so right to have his family home again. Halfway through the meal, Denae asked about the milk, but Lonnie made a sheepish face. “Sorry, Mom. I left it in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it.” Derrick was used to helping out during the meal. If he was serving his family, he was loving them. His mama had taught him that, and she was right. But not until he pushed back his chair and tried to stand did he remember about his knee. He took a stutter step, and then settled into a more natural rhythm.

When he returned with the milk, Denae had one eyebrow raised. “Thank you, Derrick.” Her look said she was on to him, on to the fact that he’d hurt himself.

Derrick smiled and did a light shake of his head, telling her not to worry, he was fine. The silent, subtle communication between them was something else he loved. How they knew each other as well as they knew themselves.

When the boys were finished with their third servings of lasagna, Larry pushed his chair back and faced Derrick. “We have two-a-days all this week. Can you believe it?”

Two-a-days.
Derrick could remember when he was in high school and the team would hold practice twice a day for a week. He and his teammates thought it was such a big deal, working out that long. It always felt something like boot camp. And now his oldest son would have his first chance at the experience. He grinned at the boy. “You excited?”

“So excited, Dad. Coach says I’ll be a starter on the freshman team, for sure.” His eyes danced. “And if I tear it up, I might have a shot at varsity.”

Derrick exchanged a high five with his son. “That’s my boy.”

“I prayed about it.” His look grew more subdued. “If God wants me on the freshman team all year, that’s fine. Wherever I can do the best for the team.”

Emotion welled in Derrick’s throat. That he was living his dream, still playing football after seventeen years in the NFL, that he had a family others only dreamed of having—all of that was enough to drop him to his knees each night in gratitude to God. But this…the faith of his oldest son…overwhelmed him. At a time when other kids were experimenting with dope and drinking, Larry was asking God to place him where he could do his best work for the team.

Derrick reached over and gave his son’s knee a squeeze. “Keep that attitude, son. In the end, that’s all that matters.”

Larry shrugged, as if there couldn’t possibly be any other way to think about life. “Like you always say, it’s how we live our lives between Sundays that really matters.” A mischievous look came over him. “Speaking of which, could me and Lonnie come to practice this week? When I’m home from two-a-days?”

“Please, Dad?” Lonnie had been quiet, wolfing down one piece of lasagna after another. The boy was going to be six-five if his appetite was any indication.

“Sure.” Derrick shot a questioning look at his wife. “If it’s okay with your mom?”

“It’s fine.” She waved her fork in the air in mock frustration. “Not like I have any say in the matter. I wanted them to play the piano, march in the band.” She made a dramatic roll of her eyes. “But no…not for my boys. Football and only football.”

“And shopping?” Libby turned a hopeful smile at her mother. “Since school’s almost here, and since the boys’ll be busy?”

“You can roll your eyes at football,” Derrick chuckled in the direction of his wife, “but you two have turned shopping into a full-contact sport.” He winked at her. “I guess that makes us even.”

The conversation continued, the good feelings of the homecoming coloring everything about the evening. Not until the children were out back, Libby on the phone to one of her girlfriends, and Lonnie and Larry tossing a football, did Derrick carry a load of dishes into the kitchen and find Denae watching him.

She put her hands on her hips. “How’d you hurt it?”