Initiation (27 page)

He chuckled. “I was angry when you didn’t visit that first Christmas, but my mother told me something that day that I’ll never forget.”

She furrowed her brow. “Your mother came to visit?”

“Sorry, I mean Mrs. Wheeler. I haven’t seen Grace since she stole my money and pointed that gun at me.”

A waitress in black pants and a white shirt ambled toward them. “Can I take that?” she asked Carter. He handed her his empty plate.

With the waitress out of earshot, Carter continued, “Mrs. Wheeler told me that we never know how long someone’s gonna be in our life. We just have to love and appreciate them in the time we have. Our situation may have seemed like this terrible thing that never happens to anyone. But the truth of the matter is we weren’t unique. This stuff happened to about every guy I was in with. When they first got in, people would visit … friends, family, girlfriends. The visits would be less frequent over time. Eventually, people would simply stop coming. Guys would get Dear John letters.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry for living your life. I’m glad you did. I mean look at you. You’re the best journalist in D.C., you look beautiful, you’re married.” He smiled. “When I said that I was gonna be happy for you, I meant it. I’m just glad we had the time together that we did.”

One side of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “My life isn’t quite as bright as the picture you paint.”

He frowned. “You’re the only journalist that can keep my attention, so as a loyal reader I can say that you’re the best. Any fool can see how beautiful you are. And –”

“I’ve been divorced for a year and a half.”

He grinned.

She shook her head. “I thought you were supposed to be happy for me?”

“I am. I’m happy for you that you’re divorced.”

“Uh huh.”

His face went still. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I should have never married him to begin with.”

“Is he the same guy from Northwestern?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “I went straight from you to Daniel with barely a breather. You know in some ways I’m my mother’s daughter. She could never be alone, and I think I was that way too.”

“And now?”

“I think it’s been good for me to be on my own. I know myself better now.”

“This may sound like a stupid question, but why are you still using Burns as your last name?”

She sighed. “Because I’m known professionally under that name. And then, if I change back, everyone knows you’re divorced. I think I’m gonna bite the bullet though. I’ve got some time off coming up.” She crossed her arms and mock-scowled. “You’ve asked about ten questions in a row. It’s my turn.”

He put his palms up in surrender. “All right.”

She folded her hands together on the table. “So what happened after prison? Did the Wheelers take you in? How did you end up in Richmond?”

“The Wheelers did take me in. They had moved to Richmond while I was in prison. Jill was teaching at this terrible city school, but she loved the kids. She still loves ’em. With the internet, David could work from home. They liked the slower pace down here and the cheaper real estate. I’m not even sure if they asked me to live with them. I think we both sort of assumed. They picked me up from prison and took me to their house. They already had a fully furnished room for me. I asked them if I could take their name.”

“You told me once that you were going to change your name. Do you remember that?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“And then you started going to the University?”

“Not exactly. I finished my diploma in prison and I took some college classes. I think it amounted to like a year of college credit. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I just took any job that I could get. I wanted to help out my parents. I didn’t wanna be this twenty-three-year-old sitting on their couch. As you can imagine, the job market wasn’t great for a felon with a high school education. I worked for a temp agency for about a year. Mostly entry-level warehouse and construction stuff. Then Jill told me about a groundskeeper job at Richmond. She heard about it from our neighbor who’s a professor there. The professor put in a good word for me. I was shocked when I got the job. The pay wasn’t great, but it had decent benefits, and I got to use the athletic center. So after work, I would work out. One day I was running sprints on the track. Don’t ask me why. At the time I had no intention of playing football. So I see Devin watching me with his hands on his hips and this huge smile on his face. I hadn’t seen him since that one visit before he left for football camp my first year in prison. I would have looked him up, but I figured he already graduated. Anyway, he was just working out. He had a job working in admissions. He’s the Dean of Admissions now.”

“Wow,” Sarah said. “He’s what, twenty-seven?”

“Yeah, same as us.” Carter rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Anyway, he had me over for dinner at his apartment that night. And we became really good friends again. Besides my parents, he was the only friend I had. So we started working out together, and he started telling me that I should walk onto the football team.” Carter chuckled. “I thought he was joking, but he kept pushing me. He wouldn’t let it die. So one day he challenged me in the forty-yard-dash. He said, ‘best of three’. He told me that he really wanted me to be at my best, so we took a few days off from working out so that our legs would be fresh. So the day came and he had the forty marked out exactly on the track. He even brought some kid from the track team with a starting gun. I mean he was really serious. I just thought it was funny, you know, Devin just being competitive. So we ran three forties. Devin beat me on every one, but barely. Now, Devin was really fast – he still is. He might have been faster than he was in college. So there was this old dude in the stands watching us. Afterward, he came up to Devin. They knew each other. Of course Devin had set the whole thing up.”

She smiled. “I gathered.”

“The old guy was Coach Clay, the defensive backs’ coach. Clay asked me if I’d be interested in walking on in the summer. So I enrolled at Richmond and walked on. My parents were thrilled. They insisted on paying for school.”

“You didn’t get a scholarship?”

“Not the first two years. I played on special teams, but there’s only so many scholarships to go around. They did give me a scholarship for my junior and senior season.”

“And you’ve been the leading tackler for the past two years. Did you ever think about the NFL?”

He laughed. “There’s not much interest in a twenty-seven-year-old 1-AA safety with concussion problems.”

She grabbed his hand on a reflex, an old but familiar wave of concern washing over her.

“I’m fine,” he said before she could speak. “I had a cat scan, and I’m okay. I did have a half-dozen or so concussions. I think I had a couple in high school, but I didn’t know what it was back then. It’s probably for the best that I stop playing. A lot of former NFL players are dying left and right. Not that the NFL is knocking on my door anyway, but I’m definitely done. It was a lot of fun, and I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made, but it’s time for something else.”

“Coaching?”

He smiled. “You heard?”

“I interviewed Coach Clay in the press box. He said your defensive coordinator got the head job at William and Mary, so Clay’s moving up to D-coordinator, and you’re going to be the new defensive backs coach.”

“That’s the plan.”

She smiled. “Congratulations. You’ll make a great coach. I’m really happy for you.”

“My recruiting territory’s in Northern Virginia.”

“Are you going to make a trip to North Potomac?”

“I’ll have to. They have a lot of good players. I doubt I’ll have much luck there. Coach Ware never did like me.”

“You might be surprised. I interviewed him yesterday. He was actually in your corner, but Cowan and then Goodman were calling the shots.”

Carter chuckled. “Remember when you got Goodman to give me four hundred dollars?”

She giggled for a moment. “You needed a jacket.”

They were quiet, the silence comfortable. He held her hand, massaging her palm with his thumb.

She gazed at Carter. “So when you come to town, do you want to have lunch or dinner or something? I could cook for you.”

“And then what?” he said, stone-faced.

She leaned across the table and pressed her lips to his. Her lips were soft. She smelled like … Sarah. His stomach tumbled as if he were on the downslope of a roller coaster. She sat back. “Maybe we can see what happens?”

He smiled. “I really like you, Sarah Cunningham.”

Dear Reader,

I am thrilled that you took precious time out of your life to read my book. Thank you! I hope you found it entertaining, engaging, and thought-provoking. If so, please consider writing a positive review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Five-star reviews have a huge impact on future sales. The review doesn’t need to be long and detailed, if you’re more of a reader than a writer. As an author and a small businessman, competing against the big publishers, every reader, every review, and every referral is greatly appreciated.

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Phil M. Williams

Author's Note

Author’s Note

This book is a work of fiction, but my goal was to create something real. I wanted to give the reader a realistic glimpse into the world of high school football. Yes, this was an extreme example, but the majority of the content in this book was adapted from news stories or my own personal experiences. As a college freshman, I remember being forced to sing in the dining hall for the seniors. It was rather benign good fun for most, but nerve-racking for me as an introvert. The second part of the initiation involved drinking until vomiting. I refused to attend the “party”. I hope I strayed from the clichés that plague this genre and created something true.

I’d like to thank my wife Denise, first and foremost. She’s my first reader. And she always will be. I love you.

Thank you to everyone that I’ve played football with or against. The best of the bunch: Adeel, Cornell, Scott, and Mark. Thanks to my coaches, Clay, Coach Sturgeon, and Coach Renner in particular.

I never really understood football until I became a coach. I’ve learned a ton from the entire staff at NL, Kris and Roy especially. Those early years were tough. I suppose that made back-to-back all the sweeter.