An Unlikely Match (8 page)

The group immediately quieted. Asher began speaking, noting alternate schedules, outstanding fee payments, issued equipment, even team colors. Ellie learned that her own team had been assigned the color yellow and that Ilene Riddle had turned in all the necessary funds, with the exception of Ellie’s own fifteen-dollar payment for her coach’s jersey.

“I’ll have to get it from my car later,” she said, realizing only belatedly that she’d interrupted him. He didn’t so much as glance in Ellie’s direction before picking up where he’d left off in midsentence.

Ellie mentally bit her tongue. Obviously, Asher Chatam was a harsh taskmaster. His volunteer coaches came ten minutes early for meetings and sat in silence as he spoke. More proof that she did not fit his model of acceptability. A few moments later, she realized that everyone was staring at her.

“What?”

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke, obviously repeating himself: “In the event that your team
makes it before the deadline, you’ll need to decide on a team name.”

Thinking of yellow-and-black team uniforms, she almost said, “Bumblebees,” but at the last moment, she realized that probably wouldn’t sound fierce enough. “Yellow Jackets,” she offered.

Asher nodded curtly. “Now, the scheduling. Since we have a questionable team, I’ve had to draw up two schedules for this tier. The first requires each team to play two games in one day at some point during the season. The other…”

Ellie listened intently, hearing some muted grumbles as Asher laid out the entire scheme. The brown-haired woman leaned forward and spoke to Ellie out of the corner of her mouth, “Übercompetitive.”

“They’re six-and seven-year-olds, for pity’s sake,” Ellie muttered back. “How competitive can they be?”

“Not the team, the coach.”

“Ah.”

“Any questions?” Asher asked, looking directly at Ellie.

Embarrassed and irritated, Ellie snapped, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a question. Since we’re playing ‘small-sided,’ I don’t understand why I have to field a minimum of nine players.”

“It’s true we only field five players on each side at this age, but you must have substitutes,” one of the other coaches pointed out.

“And you hardly ever get all the kids there at one time,” someone else put in.

Ellie shrugged. “If enough kids don’t show up to play, you forfeit the game.”

“It’s the rule,” Asher said flatly, obviously intending to close the subject.

But Ellie wasn’t ready to let it go, and why should she? It wasn’t as if giving in would change anything. “Why should seven kids not get to play for lack of two?” she asked.

“Let’s not take up everyone else’s time discussing it right now. Anything else?” he asked, looking at the others.

Ellie leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and fumed until the meeting ended a few minutes later.

As everyone else filed out, Asher parked one hip on the edge of the table and helped himself to a muffin.

“There are reasons for rules, Ellie,” he said quietly, “and we all have to follow them.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I’m a kindergarten teacher. But what about fun? Soccer’s a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

He shook his head. “I can’t make an exception, Ellie, no matter how much I might want to. The other coaches would be all over me. Surely you can see that.”

She decided to try another tack. “You’ve obviously forgotten how important having a little fun is.”

“I have lots of fun,” he said, looking slightly startled.

“Oh, yeah? Name one fun thing that you do.”

He shrugged. “Being soccer commissioner is fun for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “So you enjoy long hours, meetings and laying down the law.”

“Okay, I admit, that part’s more about the kids, but I like soccer. I watch it on TV all the time, and I make every live game that I can. Besides, I’m not just the commissioner. I’m a referee, too, and I even coach.”

“It’s a proven fact that kids learn best when they’re having fun. Now, if you want to see some real fun and
how it impacts learning, just drop by my classroom sometime. I’ll be glad to demonstrate.”

He looked directly at her. “I don’t have time for that.”

“Well, you’ll be at church tomorrow, won’t you? I teach a pre-K class. Stop by during the Sunday School hour. We have a blast, and the kids learn plenty.”

“I have to finalize upper-tier schedules tomorrow. I usually leave after the early service, anyway.”

They stared at each for a long moment. Then Ellie conceded, swallowing back further comment. Obviously, he was letting her know that he intended to keep her at arm’s length. She told herself that it was better this way.

Okay, Lord,
she prayed silently.
Lesson number one. Don’t push.

Ellie began removing the remaining four or five muffins from the basket. “Hilda said you were to get any leftovers.”

Asher nodded. “Thank her for me.”

“I will. Think about coming by tomorrow. Everyone could use a little reminder of what real fun is from time to time, including you, Asher.”

Papers in one hand, basket in the other, she turned and hurried toward the front door.

S
unday morning found Odelia unaccountably depressed. Stepping down into the foyer, Odelia walked slowly across the marble floor toward the front parlor, tugging at the white cuffs on the long sleeves of her navy blue dress. She’d bought this garment years ago for a funeral, but in the end she hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear it. The thing was just too severe and depressing. Today, however, it somehow seemed appropriate, as did the small pearl earrings and simple gold chain that she had chosen for accessories. She usually went for much more gay attire, but this morning she’d looked at her colorful closet and collection of fun jewelry, and absolutely everything had felt wrong. Only this suited her current mood, and it would certainly do for church.

She meandered into the parlor to find Hypatia standing next to her customary wingback chair, a frown on her face as she stared down at the settee, where Kent Monroe sat with a cup and saucer balanced on one knee.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Kent was saying. “I really don’t need the sugar in my diet, anyway, and I wouldn’t want to make you late for Sunday services.”

“No, no, it will only take a minute,” Hypatia replied. “My sisters haven’t even come down yet.” She tapped her cleft chin with the tip of one finger. “I just can’t remember the last time that Hilda forgot the sugar bowl.” She dropped her hand. “Well, no matter.”

She turned, saw Odelia and did a mild double take before exclaiming, “Odelia, how fine you look! Very elegant.” She moved toward the door, patting Odelia’s shoulder as she passed. “Excuse me for one moment. Hilda has forgotten the sugar bowl.”

Odelia stood uncertainly in the center of the floor, torn between fleeing the room and allowing herself just a few moments of Kent’s company. The latter desire won out over the self-protective impulse, and she walked, head down, to the armless side chair at one end of the occasional table.

“May I pour you some tea?” Kent asked solicitously.

“Oh. No. Thank you. I’m not in the mood just now.”

Kent’s cup and saucer clattered as he set them back on the tray. He slid across the settee to the corner nearest her and leaned forward, speaking in a soft voice. “My dear, I’m concerned by your subdued manner. This isn’t like you.”

Forcing a smile, Odelia said, “It’s just the end-of-winter doldrums. You know how it is. The promise of sunshine one minute, gray skies the next, and the thermometer can’t make up its mind whether it’s on the way up or down.”

“Well,” Kent said in a dubious tone, “I look forward to your spring magnificence, then. I must say, I miss your more colorful self.”

Delight brought roses to Odelia’s cheeks. The next moment, dismay leeched it away. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

“Have you found your cat? I know you were looking for it again yesterday.”

Kent sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be concerned. He’s just a stray tom, and you know how they are, but I guess I got used to seeing him around. He certainly kept the vermin out of the garage. I just can’t help wondering where he is now. The fire must have traumatized the poor old thing.”

“I could organize a search if it would make you feel better,” Odelia offered automatically.

Smiling, Kent reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ve always admired that huge heart of yours.”

Odelia gasped. “How can you say that? You, of all people!”

He seemed surprised. “Odelia,” he said quietly, “I’ve always understood why you refused to go through with it.”

“You have?”

“Absolutely. Triplets share an unusual bond. I know why you can’t leave your sisters to live with me.”

“But you were so wounded at the time.”

“Well, of course, I was! The beautiful girl who had stolen my heart was not going to be mine. I admit I was bitterly disappointed, but even then I understood why it had to be that way.”

She shook her head. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her kindly. “And you’re still that beautiful girl who stole my heart.”

She laughed stiltedly at that, telling herself that he was just being his usual charming self. He couldn’t help it really. She’d always loved that about him. Correction. She had always
appreciated
his natural charm.

Closing her eyes at the lie, she sent up a silent prayer.
Father God, help me overcome these foolish feelings. I know it’s too late for romantic love, especially as nothing has changed. Even if Kent could care for me again, how could I possibly leave my sisters now? Forgive me for not being properly grateful for the life that You’ve given me and the many blessings that I’ve known. Amen.

She felt a little better afterward. Whatever was she doing, anyway? Eating her heart out at her age. Ridiculous!

Ridiculous and so very depressing.

“Something is definitely wrong with Odelia,” Kent observed softly as Ellie slid behind the wheel of her truck.

Glancing over at him, she shifted in order to straighten the slim skirt of her cherry-red dress. He sat slumped down in the passenger seat, craning his head to watch the long, storm-gray town car carrying the Chatam sisters turn out of the drive and onto the street. Anxious not to be late for Sunday school, Ellie quickly buckled her seat belt, started up the engine and engaged the transmission.

“What makes you say that, Grandpa?”

He sat up a little straighter as the truck moved forward on the gravel drive. “She’s wearing navy blue.”

“Navy blue what?”

He shrugged. “Just…navy blue. A dress, I guess. Nothing spectacular. I’m not sure she’s even wearing earrings.”

That did sound serious. Ellie could not remember a time when she had seen Odelia Chatam without big, wild earrings.

“This is all my fault,” Kent growled.

“How is it your fault?” Ellie asked, glancing at him worriedly.

“She was fine before I moved into Chatam House,” he rumbled.

“You don’t know what she was like day-to-day before we came to Chatam House,” Ellie pointed out.

“I sense that she is disturbed!” Kent argued, shaking his hands in frustration. “I feel it!”

“Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

“I’ve tried.”

“Try again.”

He rubbed a thick, heavy hand over his face. “I don’t know. If my presence is upsetting her—”

“Pray about it first, then.”

“I pray about it every day,” he murmured. “I pray for her every day. I have for the majority of my life.”

That was so sweet that Ellie blinked back tears as she drove toward the Downtown Bible Church. She felt a great yearning for worship today. She hadn’t felt such need to be in God’s house in a very long time. Perhaps because deep down she knew that she would have to accept disappointment for her grandfather as well as herself.

They spoke no more as she parked the truck at the curb in front of the pharmacy and they got out to walk around the square to the stately old church. A few steps later, Kent headed off to a senior men’s class, and Ellie hurried to the children’s wing.

“Sorry I’m late,” she called as she reached the pre-kindergarten play space.

Her coteachers, Sherry Hansen and Anna Burdett Chatam, who was married to Asher’s cousin Reeves, paused while laying out supplies in the craft area to greet her with smiles.

“No problem,” Sherry said. “We’ve still got a few minutes.”

Ellie pulled the appropriate posters and props from the cabinet mounted on the wall and prepared the scene while bantering with Sherry and Anna, the latter of whom was well known for her wit. Anna’s stepdaughter, Gilli, kept up a steady stream of chatter as she helped distribute cotton balls.

The other children began to arrive, in ones and twos at first, then in flurries of a half dozen or more, until some forty-plus were climbing over the large, plastic play gym or sitting down to tables to create pastoral scenes with cotton balls, cutouts and glue. Ellie sat down in the middle of the gym set and allowed the children gathered there to climb over and around her as they played.

At the proper time, she gathered them up and herded them to the story station. Taking her place on a small, low chair, with the children arranged in a semicircle on the floor around her, Ellie guided the children through a short prayer. When she looked up again, she saw Asher standing outside the hallway. He had an oddly wistful look on his face and a little half smile.

Ellie’s heart clunked. When she’d invited him to stop by this morning, she’d just been trying to make a point about how children learn best through fun. She hadn’t really thought that he would take her up on the invitation. Indeed, he’d indicated that he would not. Now she wondered how long he had been standing there and why he had come. She couldn’t quite believe that he meant to take instruction from her. At any rate, she didn’t have time to deal with him now, as the child tugging on her skirt reminded her.

“Miss Ellie? Miss Ellie!”

She dropped a quick smile on the impatient boy, but when she glanced back to the window, Asher had gone.

“All aboard the Homebound Train! Woo-woo!”

For the second time in three days, Asher watched Ellie in action, this time through her classroom door. Hopping around to present her back to the class, she pretended to pull the string of a horn then crouched slightly and moved her bent arms in a churning motion.

“Chugga-chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga-chugga. Remember your tickets! How do you get your tickets?”

“Put away your stuff!” a child called.

“And get your backpack!” someone else yelled.

One by one, children tucked away their toys and art projects and ran to grab their backpacks from hooks on the wall. Laughing and giggling, they fell in behind her and clamped their hands onto the shoulders of the person ahead.

“Chugga-chugga-chugga. Here we go!”

She’s right,
Asher thought, watching her rock back and forth as she pretended to build up enough steam to pull away from the station.
I really don’t know much about fun.

He’d watched her two days earlier in the Sunday School classroom when she’d all but become a part of the indoor gym set. She’d looked so happy, and the kids all obviously adored her. He’d felt a strange pang, wondering if he had ever been that happy. His work certainly didn’t lend itself to her kind of gaiety, and he couldn’t remember now when soccer or anything else had really been fun for him.

He didn’t know what had compelled him to stop by her Sunday School classroom that day; he hadn’t even
intended to go to church last Sunday, but somehow he couldn’t stay home. Then, after the early service, when he usually slipped out, he’d found himself walking the maze of halls until he’d come to the pre-K unit. He didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Not then. Not now.

A call to the school on Monday morning had told him that he could not gain access to Ellie’s background check without her. He could have asked the school staff to have the form signed, but instead he’d said he would take care of it himself. Now here he stood on a Tuesday afternoon, watching her at work and wishing he hadn’t been quite so hard on her lately.

Happily
chug
ging, the line of children followed Ellie on a snaking trail through the room, winding in and out of low tables and miniature chairs, finally coming to a stop at the door. An electronic bell sounded just then, and utter chaos erupted. Up and down the hall, doors flew open, spilling children and teachers out in a noisy rush. Inside Ellie’s room, however, the children waited patiently, smiles on their faces, while she traded places with her assistant.

Asher backed up as Ellie swung open the door and stepped out, facing away from him. “Bye. See you tomorrow. Have a good evening, everyone.”

Ellie’s class followed the assistant down the center of the hall and through the chaos to an outside door, beyond which waited parents and buses. Asher started forward to make himself known, only to jerk back again as several older children dashed past him and through the door into Ellie’s classroom.

“Hold on!” she called, laughing. “I haven’t booted it up yet. Give me a sec.”

Leaving the doorway, she walked across the room to a computer station. Asher, as yet unnoticed, followed.

“Hurry, hurry,” one little girl urged. “My mom will be here any minute.”

“You can go first to show Donnie how it’s done,” Ellie said, as music swelled from the computer. “But then you have to let him play.”

“It’s a soccer game,” Asher said, unaware that he’d spoken aloud until Ellie whirled to face him.

She smoothed the surprise from her face, backing up a step. “Yes, it is. This particular game is designed to teach the rules of the game.”

“Really?”

“It gives you a scenario and several options for how to play it. Choose correctly and your play succeeds. Choose the wrong option and your opponent, in this case the computer, gets the ball, but only after the computer shows you the correct play. You go on until someone gets a goal scenario. Choose correctly then and you score.”

“That’s marvelous,” Asher said. And fun, obviously.

A cry of jubilation went up from the kids gathered around the computer.

“You didn’t come here to watch computer games,” Ellie said to him.

“I did not,” he acknowledged, presenting the form in his hand. “I need your permission in order to get a copy of your background check for the league records.”

“No problem.” She took the paper from him and carried it to her desk, where she picked up a pen and signed her name.

Meanwhile, a little boy at the computer was hitting buttons with lightning speed. Suddenly, everyone cheered, and the boy began to jump up and down.

“I won! I won!”

“And very quickly, too,” Ellie praised. Moving forward, she bent at the waist to bring her face level with his and asked, “So what do you think? Would you like to play real soccer?”

“Uh-huh, yes! I wanna play!”

Reaching back, Ellie whipped a sheet of paper off her desk and presented it to him with a flourish. “Take this to your parents. If they have any questions, they can call me.”