Love Lifted Me (34 page)

“Don't look now, Max, but you're winning. Got no
W
s in the win column, but you're winning.”

Max glanced back at Jade. “More than you know, Hines. More than you know.”

To: Aiden, Willow
From: Jade
Subject: Twins3132! Girls33!! (We think)
Need I say more?

XO, Jade

Dear Lillabeth,

I've been thinking and praying all weekend, talking to Max, and I'm confident this e-mail to you is the right thing for me. For all of us.

As much as I'd like to think I'm superwoman enough to run the business with a toddler and twins, I've decided to let go of the shop. I know, just when the
Southern Life
cover hit the stands. Thank you for following up on that for me. You don't know how much I am at ease knowing you are covering the Blues.

I've heard nothing on the Blue Two. Not one nibble. Well, in this economy, what can I expect? But Max and I have really been putting it to prayer.

The football season is one game away from ending. We're not sure what the future holds. Max has meetings this week to see if the principal and boosters want to keep him for another year. Or two. Or five. Or twenty. He loves it, Lilla.

Loves it. I've never seen him more stressed but so at peace. A win would be nice.

Boost everyone's confidence.

All that to say, I want you to have the shop. You've been so generous and loyal to me, running the shop almost all year while taking classes, I am full of gratitude for you. I can't think of anyone more deserving of the business. You love vintage. You have a fabulous eye. You're studying business. You could take these shops where I never could.

I know it's a big commitment. And with Aaron being deployed, you can't know of your options or future, but I want you to know, the shops are yours, Lillabeth. My gift to you.

Think about it. Let me know when you're ready.

With love and thankfulness, Jade

Monday morning Max unlocked his office with his thoughts already on Friday night's game. Amarillo. The best team in the district. 10–0.

Max didn't miss the irony. The best team in the district ending their regular season playing the worst. He'd started the Warrior season with the goal of winning one, maybe two games. Now all he wanted was to end with some dignity and self-respect. Not to let the Sandies pummel them into the field.

He dropped to his chair and powered up the iMac, stretching his legs, rubbing his eyes. First order of business when the season ended? Sleep.

Might be his last chance for the next twenty years. He may not coach football, but he'd be raising Asa, and twins, and prayerfully a baby or two more. If he could, he'd move Tucker in, but he and Jade had talked, concluding it would be the final straw for Mariah. Tucker was the one thing that kept her from flying off and going completely wild.

Instead, they'd fold both Tucker and Mariah into their extended family.

Along with Gus and Lorelai. The notion popped a smile on his lips. Saturday night he and Jade made calls home.

Dad and Mom. Max's ear rang for an hour after Mom's scream. “Twins! I can't believe it. Oh my stars . . . Jade, I'm throwing you the biggest shower. Here . . . there . . . wherever you are. I have a million things to do.”

Next Jade wanted to call the McClures. When she said they were going to be grandparents again, Lorelai burst into tears and left the call. Gus tried to carry on, stoic and hard like always, but his voice broke every other word with long, watery pauses.

Jade called Lillabeth. Max called his old friend and accountability partner, Tripp. Jade called her college roommates, Daphne and Margot. Max called Hines and Haley, and Chevy. His college roommates were party animals and partly responsible for his moral demise in Vegas. He'd distanced himself from them for a while. But next time he was in the Hollow, he'd grab a game of golf with them.

Last he called Axel. He owed the man for showing him the tools Max already possessed in Christ to overcome.

The bell rang for the first class to dismiss. Max logged into his e-mail, catching an immediate flood of congratulations and forwarded links from the local press.

He wasn't sure where he stood with Chevy or Bobby, but from what he was reading, Max was gaining favor with the community. One kid was quoted saying he planned to play for Coach Benson next year.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Max looked up when they ceased at his door. Bobby Molnar stood in the doorway, Chevy Buchholz in tow.

“We need to talk.” Bobby's tone and expression told Max this meeting wasn't about a good game on Friday night.

“Come in.” Max rose, motioning for them to take a seat on the sofa.

Bobby's demeanor said confrontation. He kept his gaze steely and level, his chest puffed, his jaw taut. Chevy on the other hand looked beat down, defeated. His shoulders drooped and his eyes studied the floor as he took a seat on the sofa. When he sat, he exhaled weariness.

“Get to it, Bob. Might as well ruin everyone's Monday morning.” Chevy slapped his hand on his leg, then absently brushed his fingers over his slacks. A nervous habit, Max knew, wishing today's issue could be brushed away like lint.

“Is this about me leaving the game Friday night?” Max straddled one of the chairs by his desk.

“No, but you might wish it was when I'm done.”

“Bob, come on, just tell him why we're here.” Chevy's pencil-thin expression twisted with frustration. He smoothed his solid blue tie. Ran his hand over his clipped gray hair.

The athletic director pulled a baggie from his pocket and shook it in front of Max. Percs. “Look familiar?”

“No, Bobby, they don't.” The pills were in the same baggie Jade had found in Max's drawer. But he'd flushed them.

“Wasn't Percocet your drug of choice, Benson?” Bobby tossed them to the desk. “Why you spent three months at the Outpost?”

“Max, are you using?” Chevy asked the perfunctory question in monotone.

“I am not using. No, sir.” Max stood to meet Bobby's challenge, hands propped on his belt. He was not ashamed. He had nothing to hide.

“There you go, Bob. He's not using. Good enough for me.” Chevy smacked the leather cushion next to him and stood to go. “Great game Friday night, Max. Tucker's kick was the high school play of the week.”

“Tucker's worked hard this season. His form was perfect.”

“You made a kicker out of mere clay, Max.” Chevy nodded. “Good job.”

“Excuse me, Chevy, but kicker or not, I found a baggie of illegal prescription drugs in your head coach's office.”

“Those aren't mine.” Max corralled his temper. This was fourth down with goal to go and he needed his cool. Getting into his emotions would only fuel Bobby's fire. “But it does seem to me
Bobby
has a mighty large bag of Percs.

Where'd you get them?”

“You can deny it all you want, but I found these in your office, Max.”

“What were you doing in my office?” Max removed his coach's hat and donned his lawyer attire. “Did you have a reason to be in here?”

“I needed your compliance report. All of the other coaches submitted theirs on time, so I came in on a Saturday looking for you and the report. Found a baggie of pills instead. I have to tell you, I was shocked, Max. I expected way more of you.”

Max inhaled. He needed to think. Saturday. He'd worked a few hours in the morning. Then came in for a few hours in the afternoon. He'd filed his report that morning—electronic and printed copy. So, when did Bobby come looking for his report?

“Trying to figure out your story?” Bobby said.

Trying to figure out yours
.

Chevy dropped back down the couch, face in his hands.

“And where did you find these pills?” Was there another stash in here? How?

“Sitting right on top of your desk. Which also surprised me because your reputation hints you'd be a lot more crafty about hiding your habit.”

“On my desk?” It made no sense.

“I'm calling you up on charges.”

“Charges for what?”

“Illegally obtaining prescription drugs. Maybe planning to distribute to the boys.”

Max reined in, jaw taut, fighting not to explode upside Bobby's feeble brain. “Chevy, are you just going to go along with him?”

“He's got the evidence, Max.”

“I hardly call this evidence. How about witnesses? A confession from a dealer? From whom did I buy these? I'm the head coach of the football team. I can't hide very easily.”

“You can buy anything you want,” Bobby said. “Or find any dealer name you want.”

“Who else is on your Bobby Molnar team? My coaches? Rick Lundy?”

“There's no team, Max. Except the Warriors. You seem a bit defensive.”

Max appealed to his jury. “Chevy, those are not my pills. I'll take a drug test.

Daily if you want. But I'm clean.”

“Doesn't mean these aren't your pills, Max,” Bobby interrupted.

“If they were, do you think I'm stupid enough to keep them here?”

“You're the drug addict. You tell me.”

That's right, just keep saying it, thinking Chevy will believe it
. Max knew this method of repetition, saying it over and over until the jury or the judge believed it.

Max lunged at Bobby, shoving him into the sofa. His head cracked the wall.

“You want me out of the way so you can coach this team? You do it fair and aboveboard. But don't you dare try to frame me or hurt my family or these boys in any way.” He jerked Bobby by the collar as he stepped back. “Get out.”

“Are you going to let him treat me like this, Chevy? He assaulted your A.D.”

Chevy stood. “Get out, Bob, I need to talk to Max.”

Bobby hesitated, silently refusing. Then, “I'm calling a press conference for this afternoon. You'll resign due to . . . whatever you want. You're needed at the law firm. Family obligations. I don't care. But resign. I'll take over as coach for this last game and post season. Chevy?”

“I'll talk to you upstairs.”

“See you at four o'clock, Max. On the field.”

The door closed and Max faced Chevy. “You're going to let him walk over you, me, the entire program like this?”

“I called Axel when Bobby came to me. He vouches for you, Max. I believe you're clean, but illegal drug use, prescription or otherwise, won't fly. The mere accusation dirties your name and reputation as well as me, the school, and the program.”

“What about innocent until proven guilty?” Max wanted to blurt the truth, that Jade had found an identical bag of pills a few days ago. But he wasn't a hundred percent sure of Chevy's loyalties—to his new coach, or to his school, his A.D. and longtime friend.

There was something real and sticky about friendships in Colby, Texas.

“Court of public opinion has its own rules. Even if you're exonerated, Max, the black mark is there. It will show up in every news story, in every report. This program doesn't need any more trash—I think you understand that. We need to keep the boys together and confident. I'd like you to resign so you can go out as much a hero as when you came in.”

“If I don't resign?”

“Bobby will announce this afternoon you're being investigated for illegal possession of prescription drugs, that you're suspended. How are we going to explain that to the boys?”

“That I'm innocent. That I never purchased or obtained a baggie of Percs. Those drugs are not mine.”

“Then it becomes your word against the athletic director's. The team will choose sides. The parents will get riled up. Question your integrity, mine. We're divided before we get fully united.”

“Chevy, you fear the people more than doing what's right?” Max shook his head.

“If you've ever spent a weekend taking call after call about how the coach violated this regulation and that code of conduct, you'd fear the people too.”

“But I'm innocent and you know it.” Max saw a reflection of himself in Chevy. Fearing men more than God. “Why not fire Molnar instead?”

Chevy pinched his lips. “I can't do that, Max.”

“Can't or won't? Chevy, what does Bobby have on you? You've resisted hiring him as head coach but you won't fire him. Now he's primed to take over the team and you're letting him. What's changed?”

“See you at four.” The principal opened the door. “I'm sorry. I wanted this to work out for both of us. You might want to talk to your wife before this goes down.” He started out, then paused. “I hear she's pregnant. Congratulations.”

“Twins.”

“Really. How nice. Does Brenda Karlin know?”

“Yeah, she was at the house when we came home from the hospital.”