minute, they'd been talking
like friends. No, more. She would have sworn he'd been … oh, flirting with her.
That was one way to put it. And then when Noreen came out, he shuttered his
every emotion, and hers had come irrationally screaming forth.
Maybe he was right, and she had felt
like a collaborator, whispering under the portico with the man investigating
the school's secrets. That's how the other teachers would view their low-voiced
colloquy, she knew it was.
She heard that low, rough, "Mariah."
Not a question, but perhaps the beginning of one.
But what had he intended to ask?
Or was she, once again, imagining things?
And if he had asked, what would her answer have been? And why had she been
so afraid of the question?
----
Chapter
6
« ^ »
" I 'm
going out for a pass !"
Evan yelled, running a zigzagging path across the open grass. "Breaking
right…"
Connor let loose the football, an easy toss, sending it
spiraling gently into his nephew's outstretched hands. Evan clutched it to his
chest and raced the last few yards to an imaginary goal line, where he spiked
the ball and did a victory dance.
Lazing on his side in a sunny spot on the park grass, Hugh
called, "Good one, kid!"
Connor reached the "goal line" himself and picked
up the ball. "Okay, why don't you throw me a few."
"Yeah. Cool." The seven-year-old's thin shoulders
slumped. "Except mine wobble."
Connor made his shrug careless. "Of course your passes
wobble. You have to grow into throwing a football. At the moment, your hand is
too small to put the right kind of rotation on it. Time will take care of it.
For now, you can work on accuracy and developing your arm."
"Really?" Evan looked hopeful, then downcast.
"My friend Ryan can throw really great passes."
"Is he bigger than you?"
He frowned. "Well, yeah."
"There you go." Connor grinned. "Evan, you're
seven years old. Trust me, by the time you hit high school, you'll be ready to
star."
A big smile lit the kid's freckled face. "Okay!"
"Now, throw the ball." Connor broke into an easy
lope, turning so that his pattern brought him into the path of the short pass.
"Good one," he called, and tossed it back. "Another."
Connor reveled in the normalcy of the scene and of John's
son and his daughter, Maddie. She was off watching the soccer games and kicking
the soccer ball with friends but within eyesight of her uncles. Hugh, who'd had
a late night with one of his blondes, pretended to watch both kids while really
catching some shut-eye.
Evan and Connor played catch until the boy was panting and
red-faced. To be tactful, Connor said, "I need a break. Let's go see what
your uncle Hugh has in that cooler."
Maddie arrived about the same time, dribbling the ball
between her feet. She was playing on a special team this year that traveled all
over the state to compete. Evan, perhaps recognizing that he wouldn't equal his
sister's ability as a killer forward, had dropped out of soccer and started
youth touch football.
"I'm hungry!" Maddie announced, easily lifting the
ball into the air with one foot and bouncing it from her forehead.
Hugh jerked and opened his eyes. "Jeez! You scared
me!"
"I think he should play goalie for you," Connor
suggested ruthlessly. "He's getting lazy."
"Yeah!" she exclaimed gleefully. "We could
practice penalty kicks!"
Hugh laughed. "You don't think you could get a kick by
me, do you?"
His pretty niece dropped cross-legged to the grass.
"You never even played soccer, did you?"
"I'm a good athlete," he said carelessly.
She gave him a piranhalike smile. "You're on."
Connor rubbed his hands together. "Oh, this is going to
be fun. Whaddaya say, Ev? Shall we watch the slaughter?"
"Yeah!" his nephew exclaimed.
Hugh gave a kind smile. "You should take pity on your
sister. Let's not embarrass her too much."
Evan fell to the ground with a raucous laugh.
Hugh lifted his eyebrows.
"You haven't been to one of her games lately, have
you?" Connor asked. "They don't play like girls
like friends. No, more. She would have sworn he'd been … oh, flirting with her.
That was one way to put it. And then when Noreen came out, he shuttered his
every emotion, and hers had come irrationally screaming forth.
Maybe he was right, and she had felt
like a collaborator, whispering under the portico with the man investigating
the school's secrets. That's how the other teachers would view their low-voiced
colloquy, she knew it was.
She heard that low, rough, "Mariah."
Not a question, but perhaps the beginning of one.
But what had he intended to ask?
Or was she, once again, imagining things?
And if he had asked, what would her answer have been? And why had she been
so afraid of the question?
----
Chapter
6
« ^ »
" I 'm
going out for a pass !"
Evan yelled, running a zigzagging path across the open grass. "Breaking
right…"
Connor let loose the football, an easy toss, sending it
spiraling gently into his nephew's outstretched hands. Evan clutched it to his
chest and raced the last few yards to an imaginary goal line, where he spiked
the ball and did a victory dance.
Lazing on his side in a sunny spot on the park grass, Hugh
called, "Good one, kid!"
Connor reached the "goal line" himself and picked
up the ball. "Okay, why don't you throw me a few."
"Yeah. Cool." The seven-year-old's thin shoulders
slumped. "Except mine wobble."
Connor made his shrug careless. "Of course your passes
wobble. You have to grow into throwing a football. At the moment, your hand is
too small to put the right kind of rotation on it. Time will take care of it.
For now, you can work on accuracy and developing your arm."
"Really?" Evan looked hopeful, then downcast.
"My friend Ryan can throw really great passes."
"Is he bigger than you?"
He frowned. "Well, yeah."
"There you go." Connor grinned. "Evan, you're
seven years old. Trust me, by the time you hit high school, you'll be ready to
star."
A big smile lit the kid's freckled face. "Okay!"
"Now, throw the ball." Connor broke into an easy
lope, turning so that his pattern brought him into the path of the short pass.
"Good one," he called, and tossed it back. "Another."
Connor reveled in the normalcy of the scene and of John's
son and his daughter, Maddie. She was off watching the soccer games and kicking
the soccer ball with friends but within eyesight of her uncles. Hugh, who'd had
a late night with one of his blondes, pretended to watch both kids while really
catching some shut-eye.
Evan and Connor played catch until the boy was panting and
red-faced. To be tactful, Connor said, "I need a break. Let's go see what
your uncle Hugh has in that cooler."
Maddie arrived about the same time, dribbling the ball
between her feet. She was playing on a special team this year that traveled all
over the state to compete. Evan, perhaps recognizing that he wouldn't equal his
sister's ability as a killer forward, had dropped out of soccer and started
youth touch football.
"I'm hungry!" Maddie announced, easily lifting the
ball into the air with one foot and bouncing it from her forehead.
Hugh jerked and opened his eyes. "Jeez! You scared
me!"
"I think he should play goalie for you," Connor
suggested ruthlessly. "He's getting lazy."
"Yeah!" she exclaimed gleefully. "We could
practice penalty kicks!"
Hugh laughed. "You don't think you could get a kick by
me, do you?"
His pretty niece dropped cross-legged to the grass.
"You never even played soccer, did you?"
"I'm a good athlete," he said carelessly.
She gave him a piranhalike smile. "You're on."
Connor rubbed his hands together. "Oh, this is going to
be fun. Whaddaya say, Ev? Shall we watch the slaughter?"
"Yeah!" his nephew exclaimed.
Hugh gave a kind smile. "You should take pity on your
sister. Let's not embarrass her too much."
Evan fell to the ground with a raucous laugh.
Hugh lifted his eyebrows.
"You haven't been to one of her games lately, have
you?" Connor asked. "They don't play like girls
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