Touchdown (20 page)

Leigh paused. “I've never seen you this upset, Clay.”

“You put me in a bad situation.”

“I was only trying to help you.”

“You left me.”

“Hey, I can imagine how that feels. But I came back as soon as I got off work,” Leigh said, trying to keep up with Goldie.

Goldie ignored her and walked out of the building, the cool Atlanta night suddenly hitting her skin.

“C'mon, don't be angry with me.”

Goldie clenched her jaw and turned to Leigh. “I thought I could trust you,” she said. She started following the streets on Clifton Road.

“Are you heading home?” Leigh said. “Your father will call the cops the minute you get there.”

“Suddenly you're concerned about my welfare,” she said.

“Hey, I couldn't stand by and let you destroy yourself!”

“So you're destroying me instead.”

“Okay. I'm sorry if I put you out when I was only trying to help. Can we move beyond this?”

“Okay.” Goldie nodded. “Why not?”

Leigh stepped forward. “So we're good?”

Goldie stopped and looked at her. “All right then. Hug?”

Leigh's eyes widened as Goldie drew her in for a bear hug. “Now could you take me to the airport, please?”

“Okay,” Leigh said then scrolled her phone to find the next flight. “Whoa. The last flight to New York already left for the night.”

Goldie slowly exhaled. “So we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” She wagged her finger at Leigh. “And no excuses.”

“All right.” Leigh nodded as they both walked toward her car. “Why do you want to go so badly, anyway?”

Goldie sighed. “I told you, first we have to stop Avner from marrying Chumie. I suspect she used witchcraft on my fiancé to get him—”

“Uh huh. You'll have to tell me more about this witch and her magic sometime,” Leigh indulged Goldie as she took hold of her arm and steered her into her car. “Now let's get to my place. You'll need to rest up before your big flight tomorrow.”

By the time Leigh pulled out of the parking lot, Goldie was fast asleep.

As she slept, she dreamt that she was standing in an assembly line, dressed in a simple outfit, and looked at LeAnn as they worked together, among dozens of other women in the shoe factory. “Rosie the Riveter sure wouldn't be smiling if she had all these shoes to deal with,” Goldie grumbled.

LeAnn nodded. “I'm grateful I only have a month left of this job before heading back home to have the baby. This labor is hard when I'm feeling so heavy!”

“Well, a job's a job . . . and it sure helps with all these rations,” Goldie said and shook her head. “It's great you can go back to your parents, my mother still won't talk to me for running off with ‘that ne'er-do-well.'”

“I cannot understand how any woman could possibly have anything against Charlie,” LeAnn said as she quickly glued one piece after another as they came rushing down the assembly line. “In his last letter, Clay described how Charlie helped the gunners on his plane after they took a hit—his quick thinking and selflessness saved Clayton's life. Your husband is a real hero.”

“Thanks, LeAnn. But then, you haven't met my mother.” Goldie shook her head as they continued the repetitious job. It wouldn't be so bad if the shoes were pretty, but they were so ugly. “Hey, have you gotten any letters from Clayton lately? It's been a while since I got anything from Charlie.”

“No.” LeAnn shrugged it off. “Maybe they're on some secret mission . . . I'm sure we'll be getting letters soon enough.”

Goldie nodded, and felt a huge relief when the whistle blew and alerted them it was time for lunch. She'd been feeling queasy all day, and she ran to the bathroom.

She washed up from her upset stomach and wondered if it was just anxiety over Charlie's safety, or something else? She mentally counted when she and Charlie married and . . .

LeAnn came into the bathroom. “Are you okay, Goldie? You look so pale.”

Goldie stared at LeAnn and her blooming belly and then felt her own stomach. “Oh boy,” she said and grabbed her friend's hand. “LeAnn, we need to talk.”

• • •

Leigh was making spaghetti when Clay took a seat by the Formica counter in her kitchen. She stood by the stove, frying up fresh onions and garlic as she worked on her signature tomato sauce.

Clay nibbled on the salad she'd already laid out in a bowl before them. “Mmmm,” he said. “That sauce sure smells good.”

Leigh nodded. “I know my cooking isn't as fine-tuned as yours, but you have to admit my spaghetti sauce is the best.”

“You bet,” he said and smiled. It felt so good to be here, alone with her, with no team-mates to lead, no cheerleaders to flatter, nobody he had to impress . . . It was nice not having to be somebody they all wanted him to be. There was nothing as wonderful as what he felt now: just being himself and chilling with the most beautiful person in the universe.

“You know,” he said, “I wish I could open up my own restaurant. Like I'd be the chef—”

Leigh interjected, “Except for the spaghetti sauce, that would be mine—”

“Sure.” He nodded. “And we'd open a restaurant together. Wouldn't that be awesome?”

“Yes, it would.” Leigh stirred the sauce with a wooden spoon. “But how would we do it? How could we ever afford to open a restaurant?”

Clay shrugged. “I don't know. I can't even afford to take a chef's course.”

“That's a tough one.” Leigh nodded. “But you'll be graduating next semester—”

“Right. And the likelihood of getting drafted isn't great, especially considering that crazy game—”

Leigh turned off the stove and poured the sauce over the spaghetti, which she then placed in plates and set out before them. “You never know. Jury's not out on that yet.”

Clay nervously tapped his foot. “Yeah, but the allegations about the pot aren't helping any.”

“You'll work through that.”

“But what if I don't make it?”

“There's still time before you graduate. You'll find a job.”

“Doing what? Have you noticed there's a recession going on?”

“Sure I've noticed,” Leigh shrugged. “I hear Goodwill's hiring.”

Clay clenched his jaw. “So that's it? Those are my two choices? NFL or Goodwill?”

“You have any better ideas?”

Clay looked at her. “I love to cook. That's what makes me feel happy, you know . . . alive. You ever feel that way about anything?”

Leigh nodded. “Yes. I've always felt that way about one, true thing my whole life.”

“What is that?”

She stared at him without flinching. “You.”

“Huh?”

“I feel happy being with you. You know, just eating spaghetti with you. That's about as good as it gets.”

“Serious?”

“You bet.”

“Wow. I never knew that.”

“I know.”

“So what do I do about that?”

Leigh smiled at him. “Ball's in your court now, Clayton.”

“All right.” He laughed. “Then I'll have to run with it.”

“Yes, you will. You'll have to dodge a lot of people with other ideas—people who wouldn't want you to score a touchdown, Clay.”

“Then I've got to prepare for the game.”

Leigh winked. “No games, Clay. Not between us.”

Goldie continued to dream. She held her growing belly as she sat down on a chair. She'd been working for so long and it was a difficult pregnancy—the doctor told her if she wanted the baby to thrive, she should stay home and rest. But how? She couldn't support herself if she didn't work! She went outside and searched the mailbox. Again. Why hadn't he written? She wasn't sure what was worse: worrying over the new baby she was carrying or worrying over Charlie's safety.

And then she heard the sounds of a car rumbling up toward her apartment. Maybe it was the postman with a letter from Charlie? Finally?

The car slowed down, as if the driver was seeking the right address. And then she panicked. No. She didn't want them to call on her for a visit.

She ran inside and locked the door. Maybe it wasn't her apartment; maybe they weren't looking for her.

She stood behind the door and breathed. Please God, no, Please God, no, Please—

The doorbell rang.

She stood motionless.

On the third ring, she opened the door.

Two army officers stood at the door and one of them verified that she was indeed Mrs. Charles Rosen and then, sadly, handed her a piece of paper.

In what seemed like slow motion, she shut the door, glanced at the letter and promptly fainted.

Missing In Action.

It was days before she was able to call LeAnn, who'd already gone back home to Georgia. On the phone together, they cried.

• • •

Goldie woke up on a lumpy couch and stretched. “Woo-hoo, what a dream I had!”

“Clay?” Leigh said.

“Have you checked the flight schedules? We should get going.” Goldie jumped up from the couch and stared at Leigh. “Well, Nu, what are you waiting for? Is everybody in the south so slow all the time?”

“Oh, no.” Leigh leaned her head back. “Not again.”

“What now?”

Leigh shook her head. “I can't believe you're still carrying on with this. If it was too much stress like the doctor said, couldn't we just chill at Lake Lanier or something?”

“I'm not stressed, just busy,” Goldie smirked. “Why are you in such a rush to get rid of me, anyway?”

Leigh stared at Goldie. “Um . . . to get him back?”

“Oh,” Goldie said as if talking to a small child. “I told you I'll leave as soon as he helps me in New York—”

“Yeah, but what if you don't? What if you hang on, like, forever?”

“Ha,” Goldie retorted. “Like you?”

“What?”

“I mean, it's so obvious you like that guy . . . but you are never going to catch him if you always make yourself so available.”

“Uh huh. So now I'm too available?” Leigh pursed her lips. “Why? 'Cause I don't play dumb games?”

“Yeah,” Goldie said. “Haven't you ever read The Rules?”

“No. I haven't. And what makes you think I want to catch anybody?”

“It's pretty clear that he loves you, duh.”

“Clay, I did always wish you loved me back, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that you would declare yourself like this.”

Goldie shook her head. “Honey, nobody else would go through what you two do otherwise.” She looked Leigh up and down. “If you make each other crazy and you're still there for each other at the end of the day—that's love in my book.”

Leigh let out a laugh. “You're one funny demon.”

“Dybbuk. So let's get to New York?”

“Well, I'm happy to be there for Clay,” Leigh mused, “but you know I'm losing work for this. Why should I help you out, dybbuk?”

“Good point.” Goldie nodded. “How about this: Clearly you both need some help getting together . . . ”

“No we don't—”

“Yeah, right. Whatever you say, bubaleh. Help me out, and I'll see to it that you all live happily ever after in some form or other.”

Leigh shook her head and laughed. “You're a crazy demo—I mean, dybbuk. But if this is your idea of fun . . . all right. I'm game. I'll call my boss. Let's do this.”

Goldie was fiddling with her phone when she saw a Starbucks up the road. “Hey, Leigh, could we stop? Starbucks has good Internet service, and I need to get my plane ticket ASAP!”

“Sure thing,” Leigh humored Goldie as she drove.

When they reached Starbucks, Goldie inhaled. “Oh, I missed this!” she said and waltzed up to the barista. “I'll have a double latte and bottled mocha light Frappuccino to go.”

Leigh laughed. “You're really taking this joke too far. I thought you hate coffee—you know the caffeine makes you feel nervous.”

“Right.” Goldie nodded. “And regularly tumbling into giants in an arena full of thousands of people is just peachy keen,” she said, as she went back to fiddling with Clay's cell phone.

The barista completed the order and Goldie stuck her hand in the jeans she was wearing. Goldie paled. “Leigh—my wallet! It's missing!”

Leigh shrugged. “You've been acting out for a while now, how would I know where it is? I can spot you a coffee, but not a plane ticket,” Leigh said as she took care of the bill.

Goldie nodded. “Okay. Sure,” she said and found them a place to sit.

Leigh stirred her coffee cup. “So how do you propose to buy a ticket to New York?” she mused.

Goldie took a sip of coffee as she continued fiddling with the phone. “I could access my account in New York—”

“Uh huh.” Leigh sat back and chuckled. “I can't wait to see how far you'll go with this.”

“Huh? No!” Goldie jumped up and nearly spilled her coffee. “This can't be!”

Leigh sat forward. “Now what?”

Goldie grabbed Leigh's arm. “I can't buy a plane ticket. I accessed my credit card information but my card was denied.” She continued to frantically type on the phone. “Argh! This can't be happening to me!”

Leigh shrugged. “Okay, Clay. Game up. Could we go back home now and clear up the mess with the police?”

“No!” Goldie said. “I only have two more days! If I can't fly and I have no money, how will I get there in time to stop the wedding?”

Leigh shrugged. “Drive?”

Goldie stared at her. “How?”

“With a car?”

“But I don't know how to drive!”

Leigh smiled. “Okay, are you asking me to drive you to New York?”

“Would you? Please?”