Pride & Joie: The Continuation (#MyNewLife) Page 8

  “Yeah. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

  Patty shakes her head, trying to refocus, and looks at her notes. I assume it’s a list of questions to make sure she doesn’t forget anything. Even though we both know she won’t. “Let’s go back to the first time you, well, ran into her. At that time, did you know her son, Isaac, was a scholarship recipient on your football team?”

  My automatic reaction is to grimace, but Patty waves it off, the look on her face indicating I need to stop thinking so hard and just answer the damn question. She really uses her hands a lot when she talks. Or when she’s not talking, as is the case right now.

  “No. I had no idea.”

  “And when did you find out?”

  “The night of the booster’s fundraising gala.”

  “And tell me how you found out.”

  I close my eyes tight, hating the memory, but realizing that whole debacle might be my saving grace in this situation.

  “I put two and two together when she showed up as her son’s date.” Patty leans her head toward me so I’ll continue. “And then I, uh . . . I accused her of being a stalker, and she sort of put me in my place.”

  Patty’s jaw drops open, just for a split second. I know she’s silently judging me for that whole situation. Truthfully, I still judge myself for it.

  “I’m actually quite ashamed of the whole thing,” I continue, looking at Patty and recognizing the look of victory on her face. My clusterfuck is what makes this whole situation seem less shady, which works to our advantage. “At first, I was upset she hadn’t told me, but we worked it out. It was basically a miscommunication.”

  Patty reaches over and pauses the tape recorder. “You really accused her of being a stalker?”

  This time, she doesn’t react when I chuckle. “Remember when that crazy woman used to show up in the stadium screaming at Matthews about how much she loved him and she’d never let him go.”

  “I couldn’t forget that if I tried.” I believe her. Patty had to be directly involved in that mess, which ended up in a lot of paperwork and stress for everyone involved.

  “Hank and I had been talking about it right before I ran into Joie at the gala.”

  “Ran into her . . .?”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “Ran into her a third time.”

  Patty shakes her head at me. “You need to start paying better attention. I would expect a football coach to be fancier on his feet than the next guy.”

  “Hey, I never let her fall down,” I defend. “I always caught her.”

  Patty quirks an eyebrow at me. “Enough chit chat. Let’s get this done.” Turning the tape recorder back on, she begins her line of questioning again. “You can understand why it’s hard for anyone to believe you didn’t know she was the mother of one of your players for that long.”

  This is the question that has plagued me for months. And Hank. And my sister. And pretty much anyone who knows the story. How did I not know? All the puzzle pieces were right there in front of me, and I never put it together. So I give her the only answer I’ve been able to come up with.

  “It just didn’t click.” Patty cocks her head in my direction as if saying Ya think? “I’m responsible for coaching seventy-five players a year for the last decade. I don’t talk to Isaac Stevens every day. I talk to him when I’m working with the offensive line. And I don’t call any of them by their first names. It gets too confusing when we have a dozen Jasons and Ryans. And never once in the entire time I’ve coached college football have I ever met a student who doubles as a football mom. Ever. So my mind didn’t go there.”

  Patty nods slowly like my explanation has some merit.

  “Plus, I may have taken one too many hits to the head way back when I wore a helmet.”

  The scolding look she shoots me has me regretting my lame attempt at a joke. Clearing my throat of my sudden discomfort, I wait for her next question.

  “Has your relationship with Joie Stevens influenced your on-field relationship with her son in any way?”

  I open my mouth, then close it. I’m not sure how to answer. Finally I pull myself together. “Yes and no.” Patty raises another eyebrow at me. At this point, I’m pretty sure that’s her answer for just about anything during this inquisition. “Yes, in that I know on a more personal level when something is bothering him, so I have been able to remind him to get his head in the game. But no, in that I’ve threatened to bench him several times in the last couple of months if he doesn’t get his ass in gear so he doesn’t hurt himself.”

  Patty nods, seemingly pleased at my answer. We continue with the questioning for another fifteen minutes or so, her nodding when she feels confident in my answers, and shaking her head if she needs me to downplay something. It’s clear she’s guiding me to give her the right answers, but I don’t care. If it allows me to keep the two most important things in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes.

  Finally, the tape recorder is turned off and Patty sits back in her chair. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I cock my head and purse my lips. “I was just asked to prove I haven’t taken advantage of a poor single mom whose son is in my program. Hard? No. Brutal? Maybe.”

  Patty smiles at me. “After everything you’ve told me, I have a hard time believing Joie Stevens could ever be taken advantage of.”

  She’s got me there. “Yeah. She’s pretty great. She put her whole life on hold to raise her son, so it’s kind of fun seeing her go for her own dreams now, ya know?”

  Patty just stares at me, lost in her own thoughts. It’s a little disconcerting. She’s such a bulldog in the boardroom, and she’s my mother’s age, so she demands respect. But having her just stare . . . what do I do in a situation like this? I’m not sure so I wait it out until she finally speaks. “I’ve always liked you, Jack.”

  “Thank you,” I say with way more confidence than I feel. I have no idea where she’s going with this.

  “And I always liked Sheila.”

  Ah. Now I see. I think. Really this conversation could go any which way, but I understand better how she got lost in her thoughts. Besides Hank, Patty was the only other person who I worked closely with to make sure all our needs were covered during my sabbatical before Sheila died. That whole time frame is such a blur, I forgot she was an integral part in making sure we had everything we needed, financially and with our medical insurance. In hindsight, she went above and beyond what most HR departments would do in that situation.

  I don’t speak, just let Patty get out whatever she needs to say.

  “But I’ve always hoped that you would find someone special again,” she says gently. It’s a stark contrast from the blunt way she normally speaks. “This Joie Stevens must be a really amazing woman to have captured your attention.”

  I can’t help but nod my agreement. “She is. She really is. She’s so different from Sheila, and yet, in the ways that are important, she’s so much the same. Did you know she wants to work with the boosters to re-implement a Thanksgiving dinner for our athletes that are stuck here over the holidays.”

  Patty flashes a huge smile, bigger than I think I’ve ever seen on her face before, clearly pleased with this news. “Just make sure she goes by the books. Just in case someone gets their panties in a twist.”

  “I will. I’ve already hooked her up with Renee to make sure it’s done right.”

  “Good man,” she says, and I watch as casual acquaintance Patty turns back into Human Resources Director Patty. “Well. Thank you for stopping by and answering all my questions. I feel better knowing we’re being pro-active.”

  Recognizing my cue to leave, I stand up out of the most comfortable chair I’ll probably sit in for a while. “Thanks, Patty. I really appreciate you helping me out with this.”

  “It’s my job.” She turns to face her computer again. I’ve officially been dismissed.

  Before I reach the door, however, she speaks.

  “Hey, Jack.” I turn to face her. “I’m rea
lly glad you found her. Don’t screw it up again.”

  I bark a laugh because, no, I did not see that one coming. I salute her and walk out the door, closing it quietly behind me. I feel strangely victorious. Not only do I get to keep my girlfriend, I get to keep my job. I can’t ask for much more than that.

  As far as houses in Texas go, this one isn’t that big. But as far as houses in Flinton, Texas go, I’m sitting inside of what many would consider the equivalent of a mansion. In a gated community on the edge of town, and at roughly four thousand square feet, the red brick veneer boasts sharp angles and points. The circle driveway contributes to giving it the feel of a small castle, as do the wide, concrete steps you have to climb to get to the front door.

  The inside features a beautiful foyer, complete with a curved staircase and a chandelier. Beyond that, it’s all open concept, with a formal living room, as well as a den off the giant, eat-in kitchen, where I’m currently enjoying coffee with Renee, Hank’s wife. Family pictures pepper the walls and football memorabilia take up most of the shelf space. A blanket is heaped on the couch, like someone was taking a nap in front of the TV and didn’t bother to fold and put it away. A few dirty dishes sit on one side of the sink, waiting for someone to have time to wash them.

  Despite its size and amenities, nothing in the house seems pretentious. Not even Renee, who is sporting yoga pants and a messy bun.

  The only thing I can’t figure out is where the ground-level window I saw on the outside leads to. Is there a crawl space underneath the first floor? A basement? Really, it’s completely irrelevant, but my mind still won’t let it go.

  Focusing on the layout of the space we’re in, I do what all good guests should do . . . I compliment my hostess. “Your home is beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Renee replies kindly and holds up the cream and sugar in question. I nod and she plunks them down in front of me to serve myself. A giant steaming coffee mug has already been provided. “Originally I thought it was too big, especially since I’m the one that gets to clean it. But it’s definitely comes in handy for entertaining, and with Hank’s job, I feel like we’re always entertaining.”

  Hoping she doesn’t feel like I forced my way into her private space by asking to meet, I admonish, “Renee, we could have met somewhere else. I didn’t have to come to your home.”

  She waves her hand in dismissal as she plops down in the chair next to mine. “Oh Joie, meeting here is totally fine. As long as you don’t judge me on the dishes in the sink,” she says with a laugh. “This is me in my normal, homebody state.”

  I relax into my seat, more comfortable knowing I’m not imposing. “You don’t seem like a homebody. You seem very outgoing.”

  “I am. But years of having to be the center of attention by default in our social circle makes me enjoy my private time even more.”

  “By default?”

  “Hank is always the star,” she explains, no malice or resentment in her voice, just matter of fact. “Our entire life revolves around Vikings football, and Flinton is a small town. Outside of church, we don’t do much else. There’s not time. And even then, the Sunday after a winning game, you can bet the preacher is going to mention it from the pulpit. And the Sunday after a losing game, it’s all pats on the back and ‘Better luck next time.’” She shakes her head quickly like she’s shaking off the memories. “There’s not a lot of places to go and get away from having to shake hands and kiss babies. This is my sanctuary.”

  “Well, it’s a lovely place to call home,” I reply. “But can I ask a random question? I noticed the ground level windows outside, but I can’t figure out what rooms they go to and it’s driving my poor brain crazy. Do you have a basement?”

  “Mmm.” She responds with a nod as she swallows her sip of coffee. “It’s more like a half basement because about a third of it is above ground. But yeah, when we built, we specifically asked to add it on.”

  “I was wondering about that. You don’t see many around here.”

  “There really isn’t a need for them,” she laughs. “We’re not in tornado alley or anything. But with three boys, three football players at that, Hank thought we would need the extra room as a kid’s area. Oh boy did we fight about that. I thought it was a waste of money, but Hank dug in his heels. Now I’m glad he did. Do you know how loud it gets when all my kids and grandkids are here?”

  I laugh and shake my head because I really don’t understand. “It was only Isaac and me until he left for college, so the noise level at my house has always been pretty low.”

  “It gets so loud it’s almost deafening.” It’s clear by the look on her face that, despite her complaints, she loves the chaos a big family brings. “It’s really nice to have the downstairs playroom for all the kids to congregate in over the holidays. They can stay down there for hours playing pool or video games. Cuts down on at least half the people up here with me at any given time.”

  “Speaking of holidays . . .” I segue, knowing her time is valuable and not wanting to overstay my welcome.

  She sits up and crosses her arms. “Ah, yes. The Thanksgiving dinner. How can I help you with this?”

  “Jack said you worked with Sheila on this in the past?” I pull a notebook out of my black bag, along with several different colored pens, placing them next to each other, one right after the other. “I was hoping you could direct me to any of the businesses that donated some of the supplies. Maybe the turkeys or drinks or something.”

  She reaches over and picks up a couple of my pens. “Oh wow. Think you have enough colors here?”

  I bite back a grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty particular about my organization. I’m sure after I take notes here I’ll go home and turn them into note cards and spreadsheets that can be laminated and put in a binder.”

  Renee’s eyes go wide. “Laminated?”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrug. “Isaac is only going to be around for a couple more years. I’m sure it’ll be helpful to leave the information for the next person who feeds these kids.”

  She furrows her brow at me, but I don’t quite understand why. Did I say something wrong?

  “I guess . . .” she begins and then stops to think about her words. “I guess I assumed you and Jack were kind of it for each other.”

  I gape at her. “We are . . . I mean . . . I don’t know if we are . . . we, um . . .” I stumble over my words, unsure how to respond to this change in conversation, or even how to define our relationship. Up until this point, we’ve just been exclusively dating, but we’ve never really talked beyond that.

  Renee recognizes my unease almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Let me try that again. I assumed that even after Isaac graduated, this would still be a project you’d like to spearhead.”

  “Oh.” That makes sense. “I guess I didn’t realize you would want me to. I thought once the child is gone, the parent isn’t needed anymore.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth,” she argues. “The boosters can always use help getting stuff done. I just assumed you were taking on this role because Jack asked you to.”

  And therein lies the problem I was afraid would surface. That those who have been around for a while, who have worked with Jack for years, will think I’m trying to take over the life Jack’s wife left behind.

  The idea hadn’t crossed my mind until Isaac’s hurtful words a few weeks ago. And even then it was only a niggling in the back of my brain, wondering if he was the only one who thought Jack was using me as a replacement. Funny how one small conversation turns into a giant elephant in the room. I realize I need to nip this potential issue in the bud quickly.

  “No, I went to Jack and asked about it. I had heard from another player, a guy in one of my classes, that it had been done in the past, so I thought if I could coordinate it, it could be implemented again. That’s all. It wasn’t until I asked Jack if it was even allowed that I found out Sheila used to be in charge.”

  “Oh honey,�
� Renee says quickly, “I don’t mean to make it sound like you’re taking over something that was Sheila’s.”

  “I just don’t want anyone to think I’m . . . that I’m . . .” I fumble with what I’m trying to express, but Renee seems to understand immediately.

  “That you’re stepping right into the life Sheila left behind?”

  My shoulders fall and I nod my head.

  “For the record,” Renee says, “I don’t think that at all.”

  “You don’t. But I think this conversation proves some people will.”

  “So? Yes, Jack and Sheila had an epic love story. Like a relationship you’d see on one of those cheesy movies I love. Part of the reason he loved her so much was because of how well they worked as a team. She was organized, willing to step in if she saw a need she could fill, and really understood how important it was to Jack that his players were taken care of when they were so far away from home.” She sits back and crosses her arms. “So the way I see it, it’s no wonder the next time Jack found a great love of his life, she would have those same traits. Because that kind of character, that kind of thought process, is important to him. And that’s what makes you guys fit.”

  My lips quirk to the side in appreciation of her words. “You make it sound like he found someone exactly like her.”

  She shakes her head quickly, adamant that I’m wrong. “Oh no. You are nothing alike. You know how it goes in football. We’re one giant family.”

  I nod because I do know. Even in high school, other football moms become your best friends, merely because you see each other so often and volunteer together so much.

  “Sheila and I were really close. She was like a sister to me, so I can confidently say you are nothing alike. First of all, she was tall and blond, so that doesn’t match. She was also really, really quiet. Almost to the point of being shy, until she got to know you. She had a law degree and was very matter of fact. Really straight forward. She was wonderful, and I miss her terribly sometimes. Her death was a huge blow to our little tribe. Huge. But as far as being alike, with the exception of those traits I already listed”—she shakes her head—“not even close.”