Home Field Advantage (24 page)

Two matching pairs of dark
eyes exchanged a look, then Anna said, "Waffles."

Normally Marian would have
been bothered by another example of her daughter's dominance, but right now she
was grateful for Jesse's capitulation. Mercifully, John stood up and brought
his dishes to the sink just as she was ready to sit down.

She avoided meeting his eyes,
though she felt his gaze searching her face. He said nothing, however, just
followed Emma out. He never appeared for lunch, and at dinner he brought Isaiah
with him.

Between them, Emma and Isaiah
filled any gaps in the conversation at the dinner table. Marian was astonished
at how voluble the big black man could be. What's more, he was tactful enough
not to show by even a glance or raised eyebrow that he noticed the tension
between John and Marian.

The week fell into a pattern.
Marian avoided John whenever she could, and since she managed it easily most of
the time, she suspected that he was doing the same. When they had to speak,
they did, but as briefly as possible. It was like living in a house with a
stranger.

Marian began to read the
classified ads for rentals again, and even drove by a couple, but she realized
she was hopelessly confused about what she would need. Could she trust Mark to
keep sending money? She hated to rent a house as wretched as the two she'd
almost ended up with, but what if she got in over her head and Mark's spasm of
conscience ended?

And then there was the
problem of starting her day-care business all over again. Would a landlord of a
nicer house allow a horde of children to take it over? Of course, she would
have to be licensed and then advertise in the paper and discover the foibles of
new children. Would John let Emma come to her?

Or maybe, she thought
dispiritedly, she could afford to pay day-care for Anna and Jesse if she could
find a good enough job. And if checks kept coming from Mark. Like a circle, she
kept bumping into the same problem.

Hugging Emma when she bounded
in the door from school on Thursday, Marian made herself face the truth. She
didn't want to go. Already this felt like home. Rhodo had boomed a few barks
when he saw the school bus and Aja had yapped a greeting. Fat Hannah lay beside
a heat register in the kitchen, eyes at contented half-mast. The twins were the
happiest they had ever been, not having to compete with six other children for
her attention. Marian couldn't quite convince herself that Emma would be
happier without her, either, not when she saw her bright dark eyes and the
nonchalance with which she accepted her father's inevitable departures. She was
more confident now; she trusted Marian...

Who was about to pull the rug
out from under her. All because Marian wanted more from the man she loved than
he was willing to give.

When Friday came again,
Marian realized that she had managed to dawdle an entire week away. Was she
hoping that John would admit undying love and throw the job over? She was lucky
he hadn't asked her to pack instead. If she had any pride at all, she would tender
her notice before he did.

Marian was cleaning the oven
when she heard John come down the stairs with his packed bags, ready to leave
for the airport. She hesitated, then quickly washed and dried her hands and
went out to the front porch. Today Emma wasn't home from school yet, and the
twins were napping. Even the dogs must be wandering off in one of the pastures.
Marian had a superstitious feeling that somebody should see John off.

He had pulled the car out
front earlier, and now was tossing his bags into the trunk. When she appeared,
he slammed the trunk and came over to the foot of the porch steps. His hair was
still damp from the shower, and he wore a western-cut brown suit with a string
tie, and hand-tooled cowboy boots on his feet. He was so handsome, tall and
lean and effortlessly graceful, that she felt her heart constrict.

"Have a good trip,"
she said.

"Thanks. I left the name
of the hotel on my desk." He put one booted foot on the bottom stair.
"Marian..."

"I've been looking at
rentals again," she said, hurrying into speech. "My ex-husband sent
me some back child support. I can manage now. And this..." She gestured
with one hand. "This isn't going to work."

"Marian..."

"I said unforgivable
things to you. I want to apologize."

His dark grey eyes never
wavered. "But you meant them."

She had to look away, and
color rose in her cheeks. "No, I…

"Yes," he said
quietly. "And maybe you're partly right. But maybe I'm partly right, too.
Can you think about that?"

“I…”

“Give me a few days."
The intensity in his voice brought her eyes back to his face. "Wait'll I
come back Sunday. Can you at least do that?"

"I wouldn't have left
Emma," she said.

"Don't rent a place.
Will you promise me that?"

This wasn't the first promise
she had made him, and she wished with all her heart that it wouldn't be the
last. Speech seemed beyond her, so she only nodded jerkily.

He studied her for a moment
longer, then said gruffly, "Okay. I'll see you Sunday."

And so, for what might be the
last time, she watched him drive away. The dull ache of the past few days had
turned to terror and hope. What had he meant?

How would she survive until
Sunday, when she would find out?

"You guys want a
snack?" Marian called. She let the back screen door slam behind her as she
strolled to the railing of the porch. It was Saturday afternoon, a late, crisp
Indian summer day. The small apple trees John had planted were bare now, their yellow
leaves scattered and sodden on the grass beneath them. Bundled in jackets, Emma
and Anna were swinging, while Jesse came down the long metal slide.

"Sure," Emma said.
"Watch this!"

She pumped harder, arcing
forward and back, higher and higher, her braid soaring behind her. Then, just
at the right minute, she jumped and landed rolling on the grass, where Aja
pounced on her.

Giggling, Emma leaped up and
ran around to the back of the swing. "Here, I'll push you, Anna."

"Not too high,"
Marian warned, starting down the porch steps. She was easily thirty feet from
the swing set when Anna called, "Mommy, watch."

"Anna, what are
you...?" But the sentence was never finished.

Awkwardly, too late in the
swing, Anna jumped, just like Emma had. Marian started to run. In horror she
saw her young daughter slam down on her back, her head jerking sideways.

Emma screamed as Marian
dropped to her knees beside Anna. Right next to her head was a roller skate
half hidden in the grass, and blood already soaked Anna's dark hair. Her small
body was still, her eyes closed. Saliva ran out of the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, my God,"
Marian whispered. She wanted to sob and snatch Anna up into her arms, but
instead she stood and said in an astonishingly calm voice, "Emma, you stay
here. Don't touch Anna, don't let Jesse touch her. Do you understand? She
shouldn't be moved at all."

Emma's face was very pale,
her eyes huge and dark, but she nodded.

"I'm going to call for
an ambulance. I'll be right back."

She ran. Her hand was shaking
as she dialed 911. The voice on the other end was supremely calm and
reassuring, taking her address, issuing instructions. Marian dropped the
receiver and ran again. Jesse and Emma stood beside Anna's still form, staring
down at her with identical expressions of shock and bafflement.

This time Marian let herself
take Anna's tiny hand. Wake up, she prayed. Please wake up. But the little girl
didn't move, except for the barely visible rise and fall of her chest.

Marian looked at Emma.
"Can you go find Isaiah, honey?"

The five-year-old's mouth
trembled. "I'm scared."

"I know," Marian
said quietly. "I'm scared, too. But she'll be fine. I know she will."
She has to be. "Most of us bump our head sooner or later. I fell off
Snowball once and was unconscious."

"She looks dead,"
Emma said.

A giant hand seemed to be
crushing Marian's chest. If she let herself think—fear—she would fall apart.

Oh, John! Where are you?

But he wasn't here. She had
to be strong and reassure Jesse and Emma. There would be time enough for her
own terror later... If Anna didn't wake up soon.

"Please," she said.
"I need you to do this, honey."

Emma's eyes suddenly brimmed
with tears and she ran, tearing around the house toward the barns. Distantly
Marian heard her voice. "Isaiah! Isaiah, where are you?"

Marian held out her other arm
and Jesse came to her, clinging like a barnacle. He hadn't the words to express
his fear, but Marian reassured him anyway, talking as much to distract herself
as for his sake.

It seemed forever before she
heard a siren approaching, the scream gaining in volume as the ambulance
turned into their lane and approached. The dogs ran barking toward the front of
the house. Where was Isaiah? Marian wondered frantically, but neither Emma nor
he appeared, so she scooped up Jesse and hurried around the house.

"This way," she
said, and the two men with a stretcher followed. She couldn't do anything but
watch as they slid a collar around Anna's tiny neck and slowly, with comforting
efficiency, eased her onto the stretcher. Even her small hand that lay palm up
was positioned the same.

Marian wanted desperately to
go in the ambulance with Anna, but how could she? A glance toward the barns
told her the hands had all gone home for lunch; only Isaiah's truck was there.
But where was he? Emma, her face tear-streaked, came running from the barn.

"I can't find him,"
she cried. "Why did they put Anna in there?"

"So the doctor can look
at her," Marian said. She still sounded miraculously calm, though she
didn't feel it. To the driver she said, "I'll have to follow you. I'd
better at least leave a note, and I have to bring the kids..."

"She'll be fine,"
he said gently. "Come straight to the emergency room."

Marian tried to breathe
slowly. "Yes. Thank you. I'll be right behind you."

She wanted John as she had
never wanted anybody in her life—to hold her hand, to hug her, to give her
strength. Still carrying Jesse, Marian hurried into the house and John's
office. She set her son down. Where was the phone number? Whom had he said to
ask for?

She was to call the network
if she ever needed him, he'd said. They would get in touch with him.

But there were papers all
over his desk, including the mail from yesterday and today that she had tossed
there. She reached for a folded letter that had something scribbled on the
back. Jesse tugged at her shirt and when she turned, Marian let the letter
flutter onto the blotter.

"Potty," her son
whispered.

Oh, Lord, not now.

"I can take him,"
Emma offered.

"Jesse?"

He nodded and accepted Emma's
hand, not much larger than his. Love for both children swelled in Marian's
chest and tears stung her eyes hody. She was so lucky—she had been so lucky...
Please, God... She swallowed hard and made herself take more slow breaths. She
had to hold on. There was no one else.

No, wait.  She wasn’t
thinking.  Try his cell phone first.  Hands shaking, she did, but he must have
it turned off.  She left a message, then studied the clutter on his desk.

The letter she’d noticed lay
open on the tan blotter. No, not a letter. A bill. From an attorney. She
reached for it, intending to turn it over, but she saw a name. Mark Wells.

For a moment she was blank,
unable to find any connection. Uncomprehendingly, she read the bill and the
note scribbled at the bottom. The services of a private detective. Atlanta,
Georgia. Confidential.

John had hired an attorney to
find her ex-husband and make him pay Marian what he owed her. The knowledge was
there, in black and white. Incredulously she read it again. The confidential
part... That meant he had never intended she know who was responsible for
Mark's change of heart.

But she had no time to think
about it now. She turned the bill over—no, that was a note about something
else. Where was the phone number? Forcing herself to search methodically, she
found it on a Post-it stuck to the blotter but covered by the mail she had
carelessly tossed.

Once again she had to explain
herself, but the woman she spoke to promised she would track John down and give
him the message. "But his daughter's not hurt?"

"No, mine," Marian
said. "But... I thought he ought to know. I'm taking Emma as well as my
son to the hospital now. He can call home, but I don't know when I'll be
back."

"I'll get in touch with
him right away," the woman assured her again.

"Thank you." Marian
hung up. Upstairs, she met Emma and Jesse in the hall.