Fourth Down (9 page)

“Walk me through your life, Poppy,” he
said setting the photo album so it was half on his lap and half on
mine. With a sigh, I leaned in just a bit closer and looked through
the album with him. There were a lot of me as a baby and a little
girl with both my parents. From there the pictures jumped to the
time after my dad’s death. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my
mom must not have wanted to remember the long months when my dad
was sick.

When we got to pictures of me when I
was in high school, Ford pointed out that I wore a Cornell t-shirt
in at least half the pictures.

“Why aren’t you at Cornell? Or did you
just really like that shirt?”

I leaned my head back against his arm
and looked up at the ceiling. “Cornell was my dream school. I was
accepted, but the scholarships I got weren’t enough. My mom and
Rick couldn’t afford it. They really couldn’t afford anything,
which is why I work two jobs.”

Ford’s hand dropped to my shoulder and
he absentmindedly traced circles on my arm. Even through my shirt I
could feel the warmth of his fingers. I glanced at him to see why
he was being so quiet, but he looked lost in thought. As if he
suddenly remembered me, he looked down with a sad smile.

“I guess I’m not the only one with
broken dreams, huh?”

I shrugged. “My dream wasn’t quite as
big as yours.”

He dropped his head back too and
started playing with strands of my long hair, running his fingers
through it and letting it fall.

“It’s not any different, Poppy. It was
something you really wanted, and no matter how hard you worked for
it you couldn’t have it. Your dreams are just as
important.”

I didn’t really know what to say, but
Ford continued on, “I would have played football for minimum wage.
I loved it that much… Everybody probably thinks it’s the money I’m
upset about losing. It is, but not for the reason you would think.
When I decided to go into the draft after my third year, it was for
the money. I would have preferred to stay at LSU and play another
year. My mom’s cancer had come back, and I thought if I could get
that big signing bonus and contract I could get her the best
medical care. I thought I could bribe the cancer to
leave.”

His voice was gruff, and I could hear
the emotion in it. From what his mom had told me, I was sure this
was the most he had talked about it in three years. I didn’t want
to speak for fear he would stop opening up. So, I reached up to his
hand playing with my hair and linked my fingers with his. He didn’t
pull away like I thought he might. Instead he held my hand in
silence for a long while.

“Are you asleep?” I whispered after
like fifteen minutes of silence.

He chuckled and turned his head to
face me, putting our mouths mere inches apart. In that moment, my
heart started racing and I completely stopped breathing. Ford’s
eyes searched mine, for what I didn’t know. Then he broke the
moment and sat up, dropping my hand and turning his attention back
to the photo album. He flipped the page to pictures of my senior
prom with Aiden.

“Who’s this douchebag?”

I couldn’t help giggling at his spot
on assessment of Aiden. “That’s Aiden, my ex-boyfriend. And you’re
right about him being a douche.”

Ford shut the album and put it on the
table. “What did he do?” His mood was suddenly serious like he was
expecting me to say Aiden used to beat me or something.

“Oh, you know. We dated through the
last two years of high school, planned to go to college together.
But when the time came, I stayed here and he went off to Cornell
without me. We tried to stay together, but by Christmas break of
freshman year it just wasn’t working. So we split up.”

“Where does the douchebag part come
in?” Ford asked.

“Oh, that would be when he was
cheating on me the whole time he was gone. We were already broken
up by the time I found out. And by then I really didn’t
care.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through
that.”

“It’s not like he was the love of my
life or anything. And he had the nerve to call me last week and ask
me to help him cheat. After two years of not speaking, he calls and
asks to use one of my philosophy papers. Can you believe
that?”

I shook my head and looked toward
Ford, expecting him to be laughing with me at Aiden’s stupidity.
Instead his eyes were shooting blue daggers.

“What?” I asked, alarmed.

“Is he still calling you?” Ford asked
in a tight voice.

“He called a few times the next day,
but the paper was due that afternoon, so I haven’t heard from him
since. He sounded pretty sure he was going to flunk out, so he’ll
probably be back in town by the holidays.”

Ford humphed at me. “Well, if he
bothers you again, let me know. I’ll take care of it.” His tough
guy act made me want to giggle, but I held it in. He probably
wasn’t trying to be funny.

I nudged Ford with my elbow. “Look at
you being all nice,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes and picked up the
TV remote, effectively ending our heart to heart. I was hoping
there might be a fun romantic comedy on, but when Ford stopped on
another football game I kept my mouth shut. Although I was just
getting to know him, I knew he had taken big steps forward
tonight.

When I was still living at home, Rick
had football on the TV nonstop. I never paid attention, and I had
never watched a full game. So, this was an educational experience
for me. I asked Ford just as many questions as my brothers had, and
he answered them all. Towards the end of the game, he was
volunteering information without me having to ask. Football turned
out to be a much more interesting sport to watch than baseball or
basketball and especially more interesting than golf. Once I got
the basics down, I could follow along fairly well. And I rooted for
the opposite team than Ford, because I liked their uniform colors
better. He seemed to think that was ridiculous. And he quickly
corrected me when I called their uniforms “outfits”.

By the time my mom and Rick arrived
home shortly before 11:00, the game had just ended. I gave my mom a
quick rundown of the triplets’ evening, and then we gathered our
stuff and left. It was already late, and I had class in the
morning. Stifling a yawn, I stared out the window into the darkness
as Ford drove us back to the north end of the lake.

“Thanks for coming. That was the
easiest night of babysitting ever.”

He smiled over at me. “No problem. It
was fun.” We lapsed into a few more minutes of silence before he
asked, “Does your mom do a big Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Yeah, she usually does. Except this
year they’re going to Rick’s sister’s house in Buffalo.”

“They’re going? What about
you?”

“You did meet my brothers, right?
There’s no way I am spending hours upon hours squished in a minivan
with them. I told my mom I had to work and study this
week.”

In the dim light I could see Ford
frowning. “You can’t spend Thanksgiving by yourself.”

I shrugged. “Sure I can. Thanksgiving
isn’t that big of a deal. Now if I was going to be alone on
Christmas, that would be pathetic.”

Ford huffed at me again but didn’t say
anything else. We pulled into my driveway, and Ford cut the
engine.

When he started to get out, I said,
“You don’t have to walk me up, Ford. I’m just going twenty feet
away.”

He ignored what I said and waited for
me to come around the back of the truck before following me up the
stairs. I unlocked the door and turned around, not sure if he was
expecting me to ask him in or what.

“You should come to my house for
Thanksgiving,” Ford stated, folding his arms across his chest like
he was expecting me to go on the offensive. When I didn’t respond
right away, he kind of shuffled his feet like maybe he was nervous.
“I mean it’s just me and my mom, and we never cook a big meal or
anything. But I don’t want you to be alone. Maybe we could cook a
traditional Thanksgiving meal this year, you know, since it will
probably be my mom’s last…” He trailed off, and how could I refuse
that?

“Okay, I think that’s a great idea.
I’ll do all the cooking.”

Ford nodded and mumbled “Good night”
as he walked down the steps. First he insisted on walking me to my
door, and now he couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. The guy was
a mystery. A moody intense mystery.

Chapter Six

Ford

Monday night at the pub was slow,
which was to be expected during the week of Thanksgiving. I was
wiping off the bar when Lindsay came in and sat at the end of the
bar. She started spreading out a bunch of pamphlets in front of
her. Lindsay was Grady’s girlfriend and had moved here this past
summer from New York City. Apparently they had a thing five years
ago, but broke up when she went back home.

I knew from Grady that she was
planning on going back to the city for the holiday - alone, and he
wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Not that I could blame him. The
last time she went home, she didn’t come back for five
years.

After setting an ice water down in
front of her, I returned to drying glasses and checking inventory.
About half an hour later, Leah joined her. It must be a girls’
night out thing. I briefly considered introducing them to Poppy. It
didn’t seem like she had many friends, except for the redhead who
might as well have TROUBLE tattooed on her forehead.

Lost in my thoughts I walked down to
take Leah’s and Lindsay’s orders and didn’t hear what they were
talking about until Leah said, “Or maybe Grady just has super
sperm.”

Shit, Leah! I clapped my hands over my
ears and turned away, mumbling, “Jesus Christ, Leah!” She was a
good and loyal friend, but the mouth on that girl made me
uncomfortable on a regular basis.

Once I was sure it was safe to return,
I took their orders and served their food when it was ready.
Thankfully they didn’t further involve me in their conversations
and left soon after they finished eating. It was only 7:00. This
was going to be a long night.

Not much more than an hour later,
Grady rolled in looking more than a little rough around the edges.
“Gimme a shot of whiskey…better make it three,” he said, sitting
down at the bar and dropping his head into his hands.

“Uh…okay. Lindsay was in here earlier
with Leah,” I mentioned.

His head came up and his gaze
sharpened. “How was she? Did she seem pissed? Or sad? What did they
talk about?”

What the fuck? Did I just travel back
in time to sixth grade…and turn into a girl?

“I don’t know, man. She seemed fine to
me. I try not to listen to their conversations.” I sure as hell
wasn’t going to mention that they were talking about his
sperm.

Grady downed the three shots I set in
front of him and dropped his head back down.

“She was supposed to come over
tonight, but she made some lame excuse about being tired. Fuck, she
can be tired at my house…I think she’s going to leave me
again.”

As a bartender it was assumed I would
listen to my customers’ endless whining about their problems. In
reality, nothing could be farther from the truth. With scowls and
grunts I was able to avoid most conversations that didn’t involve
drink or food orders. But this was Grady, my best friend since I
was five years old.

“No way, man. She’s not leaving you.
And if she tries, then don’t let her. You guys have been through
too much to get here. You’re meant to be.” Christ, did I really
just say that? But it seemed to help.

“Yeah, you’re right. She’s coming by
the shop in the morning before she gets on the road. I will make
sure she understands we are forever.”

Phew, crisis averted. Grady ordered a
burger and hung around for a while longer. I thought he was going
to fall off his bar stool when I started talking about the game
that was on that night. However, he quickly recovered and we spent
a while debating Jets or Giants.

*****

The last few years my mom and I had
treated Thanksgiving like any other day. My mom just didn’t feel up
to cooking a big meal, and I certainly wasn’t going to do it. That
was before Poppy Mitchell entered our lives. When I found out that
Poppy was planning on spending Thanksgiving alone, I couldn’t stop
myself from asking her to join us. As soon the words were out of my
mouth, I immediately regretted them.

It’s not that I didn’t want to spend
time with Poppy. I did, and that was the problem. She had somehow
wiggled her way behind my defenses, and I had talked to her about
things I’d never spoken aloud to anyone else, even
myself.

Poppy made me think about things in a
different way. First with my mom’s illness and showing me that it
was a blessing to have this time to say goodbye. Then last weekend
when I learned about her dream to go to Cornell. It was a reminder
that I wasn’t the only one in the world who had broken dreams, but
I might be the only one still wallowing in self-pity three years
later.