Last Chance Hero (20 page)

“Fine.” Andy rummaged in the cupboard for aspirin. “Dad, why did you answer the phone? You knew it would only upset her.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know who was on the phone? Think I'm a mind reader?”

“How about the fact that it said ‘Mom' in big letters across the screen? How many moms do you think I have?”

Tim turned around and poked the sizzling pork chops with a fork. “Countin' that sister of hers, I'd say about one too many.”

“Anyway, she's upset, Aunt Barb's upset, and the only thing that really got settled was that you're not invited for Christmas.”

“I wouldn't go there for Christmas in a one-horse open sleigh. And you can tell 'em I said so, next time you talk to 'em.”

“So, you haven't told me, Dad. Why did you answer the phone? You had to know it wasn't going to end well.”

“I don't know.” Tim flipped the pork chops over in the skillet. “When the phone rang and I saw it said ‘Mom,' I realized what a long time it has been since I heard her voice. Not since the night, well, you know what happened. I just wondered if she sounded the same.”

“And did she?”

“Pretty much the same, at least as far as I could tell before that sister of hers got the phone away from her. You know, I don't want to mess with your mom's life. When I told you I was glad she was happy, I meant it. And I'm as sorry as I can be that things turned out the way they did. That wasn't what we thought was going to happen when we started out. Someday I hope I can tell her that.”

“That might be awhile, Dad. You burned a lot of bridges.”

“I know I did.” He turned off the fire under the skillet and looked in. “I didn't think to make anything to go with these pork chops.”

“That's okay. We can heat some corn real quick. I think we can get by with a little skimpiness for one meal.”

Andy watched his dad while they ate. He still had that hair-trigger temper, but he didn't seem to have the violence that used to accompany it. His eyes had bags under them and were heavy-lidded, but they weren't red and watery like they used to be. And his hands didn't shake.

“Dad, the other night you told me you weren't drinking anymore. How long has it been?”

Tim rested his elbow on the table and rubbed his chin. “Pretty close to four years. Four years next month, come to think of it. I got real sick. My heart about give out on me. The doctor said the booze was killing me and if I didn't stop, I'd wind up as dead as Jacob's mule. So I stopped. I still had some things I wanted to do.”

“You stopped? Just like that?” Andy felt anger begin to course through him again. If it was that easy, why had it taken so long? And if destroying his family wasn't a big enough reason to quit, then what was?

“Well, maybe not just like that. I got myself checked into the county loony bin and fought it out, but I beat that sucker. And I fight it again every day, but so far, so good.”

“And the things you wanted to do? Have you got 'em done yet?” Andy still wasn't quite ready to give up the hurt he had carried with him for way too many years.

“Some. I saw the Carlsbad Caverns on my way down here.”

The Carlsbad Caverns.

“Well, good. Glad that stay in the county loony bin wasn't wasted.”

Tim put down his fork. “Son, I can tell you're still awful mad at me. I guess you've got something to be mad about. But I thought you'd know without my having to tell you: I wanted to come home to Last Chance. And when I read that article in the barbershop and knew you were here, well, that's all I needed to know.”

Andy shoved his chair back from the table so hard that he almost tipped it over. “What do you want from me, Dad? You want me to get all weepy and tell you that as long as we're together everything is just peachy? Well, I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't. Thanks for cooking dinner. I'm going for a walk.”

He got up from the table, put his jacket on, and left the house. He had no choice but to walk by Jess's house, but this time he walked on the other side of the street with his hat pulled low over his eyes. He didn't think there was much chance that she'd be putting a birthday card in the mail again, but he didn't want to take any chances. Truthfully, he didn't imagine she wanted to see him any more than he wanted to run into her. But even if last night
hadn't ended like it did, he had a lot to think over, and tonight he wanted to be alone.

When he got back, the dishes had been done, and the door to his dad's bedroom was closed. He was glad to see that. The walk had done its job, and he felt much quieter, but the best way for him to stay that way would be if he didn't have to deal with his dad at least till morning.

He went into the kitchen to turn out the lights, and as he did so, several little piles of white dust along the baseboard caught his eye.
Oh
,
no. Not
termites. I think what I need to do is put
the boards back on the windows of this place and
just walk away.
He knelt and rubbed the dust between his fingers and thumb. Not termites. The dust was far too fine. Looking up, he noticed that each pile of dust was below one of his patches, and each patch had been sanded smooth.

Just before the lunch bell rang the next day, Andy walked out of his office and got in his truck. Most days he ate his lunch at his desk, but not today. With his dad there at home, his mom and aunt still furious at him in Oklahoma, and pressure building from all sides at school to keep that two-game win streak going, he needed to get away from school, if only for an hour.

“Well, look who's here! The man of the hour!” Juanita Sheppard greeted him when he walked into the Dip 'n' Dine. “What do you think, Coach? Are we going to pound them into the ground like a tent stake again this week?”

“Well, we're facing a strong team this week. We need to make sure we want it more than they do.”

“Oh, pshaw, Andy, do you know how many times I've heard those exact same words? Every time a coach gets in front of a
microphone, he says the exact same thing: we're up against a strong team and need to see who wants it most. I think they must make you memorize that in coach's school or something.”

“It works pretty well, don't you think?” Andy took a seat in a booth by the window. “Strikes just the right tone between humble and confident.”

“I don't want humble. I want you to march in here yelling, ‘We're going to smash 'em to smithereens.'” She handed Andy a menu.

“You know, Juanita, I think they hired the wrong person for coach. You were here all along, and they went and looked elsewhere, and with Russ on the selection committee too.”

“Don't you think I couldn't have done a good job either. But I can only do so much, and my work is here. I don't know what Chris would do without me, and he doesn't either, do you, Chris?”

“I'd be the last to hold you back, Juanita. If your destiny calls, we'll just have to muddle through somehow.” Chris, who had just come out of the kitchen, walked over to shake Andy's hand. “Hey, Coach, good to see you. So you're thinking of hiring Juanita, are you? What can I do to sweeten the pot?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, Chris, the position of coach has been filled, and you're looking at the one who filled it. And it would serve you right if I walked right out of here, after you making a comment like that. This place wouldn't last two weeks without me here, and you know it. I'll be right back with your water, Andy.”

It wasn't always easy to know if Juanita was really offended, since she couldn't say good morning without sounding as if the whole process was a personal affront to her, but she sure didn't sound happy. Andy looked up at Chris. “I was just teasing her a little bit. Think we went too far?”

“Nah. If Juanita didn't threaten to quit at least once a day, I'd
be worried about her. Besides, you just told her they should have hired her instead of you. I'm sure she agrees with you completely.”

Chris shook his hand again and wished him well on the game Friday before heading back to the kitchen. Juanita put his water on the table, pulled her pad out of her pocket, and gazed out the window while Andy looked at the menu.

“Well, look at that. Here comes the doctor. This place is just filling up with VIPs.”

Andy looked up as Jess came through the front door. She quickly looked away and tucked the brown paper bag she carried behind her purse as she slipped into a booth at the other end of the diner.

“Hhmph. I thought for sure Jess'd want to come sit with you. You two have a tiff or something?”

Andy ignored the question and handed her his menu. “I'll have a bowl of green chile stew and an extra tortilla. Oh, and some iced tea.”

“Well, looks like you just answered my question for me.” Juanita patted his shoulder as she took his menu. “Well, don't worry. I'm sure everything will work itself out. It always does.”

Andy gazed out the window as Juanita moved on down to talk to Jess.

Please, just for once in your life, mind your own
business and don't start talking about tiffs.

Thankfully, she didn't, but since Juanita never spoke in a voice that couldn't carry through three counties, Andy as well as every other diner in the place heard everything she had to say.

“I see you've been to the bookstore. What did you get?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I just stopped in real quick on my way home from the hospital.” Jess was clearly trying to sound breezy, but Andy caught the annoyed edge to her voice. Sounded like she might still be mad.

“Well, that would be a trick since the bookstore is on the opposite side of town from the hospital and nowhere near the Last Chance Highway.” Once Juanita's curiosity got up, you almost had to hit her with a stick to get her to drop the subject. “What are you reading that you don't want us to know about?”

“Nothing!”

It was clear to Andy that Jess did not want to talk any further about her trip to the bookstore, and it must have been clear to Chris as well, as he appeared in the window to the kitchen and hit the bell with the palm of his hand.

Juanita rolled her eyes and huffed a loud sigh. “Good night, nurse, Chris. What now? I'm just handing the doctor a menu. Is that allowed? And I know that she doesn't have to explain her reading selections to anyone. She's over twenty-one.”

By now everyone in the diner was following the conversation with undisguised interest. Andy almost felt sorry for Jess, whose cheeks were beginning to match the color of her hair.

“You know, I don't think I'll have time for lunch after all.” Jess got up to go, and as she fumbled with her purse, the bag fell to the floor and her book slid out.

“Good night, is that what you were all mysterious about?” Juanita picked it up and handed it to her. “Here I thought you had picked up some X-rated romance novel, and all you got was
Football for the Clueless
.”

W
hen Eva brought Marta Quintana back to talk to Jess, she was as pleasant and proficient as Jess had ever seen her. In fact, since Jess had told her that Marta would be coming in today and why, Eva had been practically singing, and Jess was beginning to remember why she had asked for Eva in the first place.

“Dr. MacLeod, Marta Quintana is here to see you.” Eva stood in the doorway after ushering Marta into Jess's office. “And since we don't have any more patients today, is it all right if I close up and go home?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” The question and the reply had become automatic with daily use, and Jess barely glanced Eva's way as she rose from her desk to greet Marta Quintana.

The door closed behind Eva but promptly opened again as she stuck her head back in. “Good luck, Marta!”

This time Jess did frown at her, but if Eva noticed her annoyance, she gave no sign. She just wiggled her fingers in a wave, smiled, and closed the door again.

Jess gestured to the chair in front of her desk as she sat down again. “As you can probably guess, Eva has high hopes for this interview.”

“Eva is a nice girl.” Marta's smile was warm and kind. “I know her mother. She dated my older brother a long time ago.”

Of course she did.
Jess had the distinct impression that if she started tugging on the string intertwined through Last Chance families, she'd find a continuous thread that bound everyone to everyone else.

“I was really impressed with your résumé, Marta.” Jess tapped the document in front of her. “What made you go into nursing?”

“I don't know if Gabe told you or not, but my husband is serving a life term in the state penitentiary.” Marta's voice was as serene as if she were discussing the weather. “When I understood that I was going to be the sole provider for our family, I knew I had to prepare for that, and since I had always wanted to be a doctor—just like Gabe—I packed up the kids and we all went to El Paso so I could go to school.”

“El Paso?” Jess tried to keep her voice and her expression free from astonishment.

“My parents had moved to El Paso, so we all piled in on them.” Marta laughed a little. “Of course, there was no way I could have become a doctor, not at this point, and not with five kids I needed to take care of. So I went into nursing and became an LPN. It was a good decision.”

It didn't take more than a few more questions for Jess to realize that her original instincts had been right: she really did want Marta working with her here at the Last Chance office. She went ahead with every question on the list she had made for herself anyway, making notes as she did. Marta was the first person she had ever interviewed and would be her first employee. It was important that she get this right, and if Marta never got a clue that Jess didn't do this every day, well, that would be okay too.

When Marta left a half hour later with the promise that a written offer would follow the verbal one, it took a little doing for Jess to merely walk Marta to the door in a dignified, professional manner
and not click her heels and offer a high five. First of all, she was hiring what appeared to be an outstanding office assistant with deep ties to Last Chance. Second, it was gratifying to see Marta so pleased to be able to work for
her
, in the daytime and near her kids. And finally, though it paled in importance compared to reasons one and two, Jess was not going to have to tell Eva that her escape from Last Chance had been delayed.

Marta stopped at the door and squeezed Jess's hand. “Thank you again for helping Gabe. Do you really think he can become a doctor?”

“I know he can. No question.” Jess chose her words carefully. “He's smart enough, focused enough, and I don't need to tell you what a hard worker he is. But I know I also don't need to tell you, of all people, that it's not going to be easy. He's got a long journey ahead, and there are so many things that could derail his plans along the way.”

“Not with me for his mother.” Marta lifted her chin. “I can't make it easier for him to get there, but I can make it impossible for him to give up.”

After seeing her out, Jess turned out the lights in the waiting room and smiled to herself as she headed back down the hall. She knew Gabe was headed for medical school. Anything else was just not an option.

It wasn't late but was already nearly dark when Jess let herself out the back door of her office. The wind that had rattled the windows all afternoon had died down, leaving the evening cold and still. Jess pulled her coat tighter as she got in her car. It was a good night for a fire.

She had just touched match to kindling and sat back on her
heels to watch the flames lick at the piñon logs stacked there when her phone rang.

“Hey there, are you home yet?” Sarah always sounded like she had something exciting going on.

“Just walked in a minute ago.”

“Good. I didn't want to bother you at work. What are you doing Friday night?”

“I don't have any plans. Why? Has
The House Down the Road
 5
come out?” Jess sat cross-legged on her couch and tucked a cushion behind her back.

“No, that doesn't come out till next spring. Anyway, that's not why I called. There's a home game this week, and we're meeting Lainie and Ray at halftime. Come with us.”

Jess let her head drop back and gazed up at the ceiling.
People should not begin conversations
by saying, “What are you doing this weekend?”
They should
tell you what they have in mind straight off the
bat so you can say, “Oh, I'd love to
, but I'm having a migraine that day.”

“Oh, I don't know, Sarah. It's going to be cold and windy and dark. And I won't know what's going on.”

“Then read your book. You have plenty of time before Friday to at least get a general idea.”

“My book.” Jess had been cringing with embarrassment every time she thought of her noontime encounter with Juanita. Of course, Andy had been there to witness it. She felt her face flaming again.

“Chris told me all about it. If it will make you feel any better, Chris really raked Juanita over the coals this time, and Juanita actually feels bad that you left. I know this for a fact because I asked Chris if she threatened to quit, and he said no. She just hopes you come back so she can say she's sorry. And I have never heard Juanita say she's sorry for anything.”

Jess closed her eyes. One of two things was going to happen, and happen soon. She was going to understand, and even embrace, the fact that there were no secrets in Last Chance, or she was going to call her mother's friend Moira Conner and talk to her about coming back to Mill Valley.

“Jess? Are you there? Are you okay?”

“I'm here.” Jess sighed. “Just trying to get used to running down Main Street naked, that's all.”

“Really? Oh, girl, that was nothing—other than it made Chris really mad. No one but you even remembers it.”

“You did.”

“Mainly what I remembered was that you had a book on football. If I had thought about the rest, I may not have mentioned it. Now, can you come with us to the game?”

“Okay. Sure. I'll go.” Jess realized she had spoken mostly to change the subject, but the damage had been done. She had agreed to go to a football game—and sit in the cold and the dark and the wind, watching a bunch of high school kids run into each other and fall down, while she tried not to notice the coach.

“Oh, good. Since Chris and I can't get there till halftime, Ray and Lainie will pick you up. You'll have a much better time knowing what's going on if you watch it from the beginning. And then afterward, we're all going over to Gran's for coffee. She can't go to the games anymore, but she still likes a play-by-play account as soon as she can get one.”

“Seriously?” Jess shook her head. “I can't get over the fact that Elizabeth, of all people, is a football fan.”

“Gran? Oh, yes. She never used to miss. Of course, most years she had a family member on the team, starting with my dad and uncle and moving on to my brother and my cousins. Now I've got some nephews headed that direction, but I think Gran's days of
going herself are over now. That's why she looks forward to us rehashing the game with her.”

“You know? That actually sounds like the best part. At least we'll be inside and warm.”

After Sarah hung up, Jess pulled a throw over herself and snuggled down on the sofa to watch the flames crackling in the fireplace. It looked like she was going to a football game on Friday, in spite of herself. It wasn't that she hated football—how could she? She'd never even been to a game. It was simply that she'd never wanted to. There were always too many other things that she'd rather be doing. But Last Chance didn't seem to understand that. And the more she tried to explain that she just didn't care about the game, the more everyone seemed bent on getting her to one, until what began as mild disinterest had mushroomed into common knowledge shared by all of Last Chance: Dr. Jess MacLeod
hates
football.

“How did you do on your chem test?” Jess popped into her office, where Gabe was already studying, between patients the next day.

“Aced it.” He looked up with a grin.

“Hey!” Jess held up her hand for a high five. “That's what I want to hear. And do you feel good about the calculus quiz coming up tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Calculus is my favorite subject.”

“Seriously? It was mine too, when I was in high school. In fact, I was a real math geek. I used to joke about making a sign that said ‘Will solve math problems for food' and taking it on the road. Fortunately for both of us, math aptitude is a good thing to have if you're going to medical school.”

“Good.” He nodded absently and went back to his book. The boy was not easily distracted, perhaps the result of having to study while caring for four younger siblings.

“Gabe, I need to talk to you a minute. I won't keep you from your studies long.” Jess sat down in the chair next to his. After a second or two, he looked up, a frown of concentration still furrowing his eyebrows. “First let me take a look at your cut.” She took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned it so she could better examine him. “That's healing well. Good.” She rested one elbow on the table and propped her chin on it. “I had a talk with Coach Ryan the other day.”

Now she did have his attention. He put down his pencil.

“He told me that quitting the team in the middle of the season is a really big deal. That it's not something you do just because you feel like it.”

He ducked his head. “I didn't do it because I just felt like it. I did it because I need to make straight A's, like you said.”

“I know that, and believe it or not, Coach Ryan knows that too. But he posed an interesting question.”

Gabe looked up and fastened his gaze on Jess's face.