His Most Important Win

He shook his head, raised his hands palms up in an effort to stop the flow of excited chatter that filled the room. When he’d been offered the job to replace Bucky, he’d jumped at the chance. Coaching at Whistler Creek was what he wanted. His goal since college had always been to mentor and guide high school kids on the verge of manhood and possible greatness. Despite the tragedy that would always haunt him, coming home to the town and school that had nurtured him through the years had been the fulfillment of a dream. Now he felt like a trick pony waiting to be led through his paces.

Beaming at Bryce, Canfield said, “I coaxed him away from Texas Tech, and I wanted all of you to share in this victory for the Whistler Creek High Athletic Department.”

Coaxed him away, Bryce thought. He’d taken a ten thousand a year pay cut to be here, and still signed on the bottom line without a moment’s hesitation. Most people would say he should have his head examined.

But Bryce gambled on possibilities. And the options for changing lives at the head coaching level at Whistler Creek far surpassed those as the assistant offensive coach at Texas Tech. And then there was his dad, who was sitting here tonight. His health had suffered a blow. He needed his son, wanted him to come home.

He looked into his dad’s eyes now, saw the pride there and took a deep breath. “Folks, you all have a seat. This isn’t so much a celebration as a chance to get acquainted. Or reacquainted as is the case with many of you.”

“Are you kidding, Bryce,” the president of the Georgia State Bank shouted from the side of the room. “This could be the best football season we’ve ever had.”

Bryce tried to smile and slanted a glance at Bucky Lowell who sat nearby. “I don’t know about that,” Bryce said, gesturing at Bucky. “Coach Lowell here has left me some pretty big shoes to fill, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve all got a lot of work to do. The players, the coaching staff, most of all, me. I think we should save the celebrating until we get a few wins under our belts.”

Dexter Canfield continued to grin like the top salesman on a used car lot. “Now you see why I called you here today. We appreciate everything Bucky has done for this program, but today is the beginning of a new era for Whistler Creek athletics. We need to start now, preparing our boys, getting behind our new coach, redoubling our efforts as Wildcat parents and supporters.”

“I appreciate all the enthusiasm tonight and in the future,” Bryce said. “But let’s remember that the ones who need our support most are the young men who’ll soon sweat their guts out on the field once practice starts.” He paused before adding, “Football in Whistler Creek always has been, and will continue to be, a community effort. Thanks for coming today and for giving me this welcome. But as far as I’m concerned, you can all go on home now, knowing that my office in the athletic building is always open.”

He remembered the furor surrounding games in the past and doubted Bucky had kept that same open-door policy for his many years at Whistler. Bryce hoped he wouldn’t regret making that statement.

As the meeting wound down, he endured countless handshakes and pats on the back before the last of his well-wishers left the media center. Then he said goodbye to Canfield and walked with his father to the school parking lot. When they stepped into the humid July air of a South Georgia evening, Bryce took his dad’s elbow and held him back. “Let’s wait until everyone is in their cars,” he said.

Roland Benton smiled. “A little uncomfortable with all this excitement, are you, son?”

“Yeah. I didn’t anticipate this kind of welcome. I’ve been gone a long time.”

“True, but you’ve always wanted to come back.”

Bryce waved to a man who put down his car window and gave him a thumbs-up sign. “I didn’t think it would be like this. You know how it is, Dad. When expectations run too high, everyone can end up disappointed and disillusioned.”

“Just do your job, Bryce,” Roland said. “No one can ask more. And no one should expect more than your best effort.” He smiled. “That’s all you’ll ask of the players, right?”

“True enough.” Seeing the parking lot emptying out, Bryce stepped onto the pavement. He saw two women chatting between cars about a hundred feet down the lot. He stared for a moment before a familiar pang pierced his heart. Could it be? He recognized the lush curls of black hair that fell to one woman’s shoulders. “Dad, isn’t that Rosalie Campano?”

Roland squinted. “Sure is.”

“Is her mother still running her produce stand on Fox Hollow Road?”

“Yes, indeed. Claudia is one of our best local customers. Rosalie still lives with her. You know Rosalie teaches at the high school now?”

“Yeah. Mom told me that a few years back. I should have known she’d be here when I heard Canfield had called the faculty out for this show.” Bryce had thought a lot about Rosalie over the years. She’d been an important part of his life at one time—until the day he’d brought so much grief into hers.

Rosalie laughed as she carried on a conversation with the other woman. Bryce recalled the bright, bubbly sound of her voice. “Is her name still Campano?” he asked.

“You mean did she ever get married?”

“Yeah.”

“No. She’s single. Came close a time or two from what I understand, but it didn’t work out.”

Rosalie had never married? Bryce tried to rein in his careening thoughts. Roland took Bryce’s arm and gently tugged him toward their car parked in the opposite direction.

“Wait,” Bryce said, knowing he could be treading on emotional quicksand. “I want to say hello.”

“Maybe now’s not a good time …”

“Why not? I’m going to be seeing a lot of Rosalie. We’ll be working in the same building, maybe teaching some of the same kids.” Bryce was already several steps ahead of his dad. “Now’s the perfect time.”

It was crazy. Bryce knew that. But the closer he got to Rosalie, the more his heart pounded. For Pete’s sake. It had been almost sixteen years since Ricky had died. They’d each gone on with their lives. But heck, she was right there across the lot, where she couldn’t refuse his phone calls. Bryce always wondered if maybe he’d get the chance to tell her again how sorry he was for what happened. So he quickened his footsteps.

And then she looked up and trapped his gaze. It was only a quick glance, almost as if she hadn’t noticed him at all. But her smile faded and she turned again to her friend, said something brief and got in her car. Bryce stopped dead. Before he could have reached her, she’d backed her red compact car out of its space and was headed to the street.

And for the second time that night, Bryce felt like an idiot.

Chapter Two

Shortly after the meeting at the high school broke up, Rosalie came in the back door of the home she still lived in with her mother. She reached down and scratched behind Dixie’s ear. The golden retriever nuzzled her soft nose against Rosalie’s jeans. The scent of fresh baked bread and pungent Italian spices filled the welcoming kitchen. A half-filled dish of lasagna sat on the table along with the remains of a salad in a seasoned wooden bowl. Rosalie called out, “Mom, you here?”

Drying her hands on a towel, Claudia came out of the pantry. “There’s plenty of lasagna left, Rosalie,” she said. “I’ll heat up a plateful if you’re hungry.”

“No, thanks. I’m going out in a little while.”

“Oh? You seeing Ted?”

Her mother was one of the few people who knew Rosalie had accepted a few dates with Whistler Creek High’s baseball coach. Rosalie tried to keep her personal life private. “No. He’s got his kids this weekend. I’m meeting Shelby downtown at the Creek Side Tavern.” She stepped to the entry to the living room and looked around. “Is Danny here?”

“No. His friends picked him up twenty minutes ago.”

Rosalie sighed with relief, pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped into it. “Good. I don’t have to pretend that everything’s okay then.”

“You certainly don’t have to pretend with me,” Claudia said. “I’ve already heard. Sharon Potter was at the meeting and she called me when she got home.”

“Then you know about our new football coach.”

“I know.” Claudia shook her head. “I always thought Bryce would come back here, especially after his divorce. And now his father had that bypass surgery …”

Rosalie blew out a long breath. “I always prayed he wouldn’t return.”

Claudia pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her daughter. “Don’t borrow trouble, Rosalie. Just because Bryce is back doesn’t mean that anything has to change.”

Rosalie sighed deeply. “I think everything will change, for me at least. I’ll have to face him at school every day this fall and I might even run into him at Benton Farms when I go there to pick up your produce orders.”

Then a startling realization occurred to her and she stared at her mother. “Like tomorrow,” she said. “I promised you I’d go to Benton’s in the morning. What if Bryce is there?”

Claudia squeezed her hand. “I don’t know where Bryce is staying, but even if he is out at his parents’ place, you can go to the market early, before most normal people are even out of bed.”

Rosalie nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. But Mom, having Bryce return to Whistler Creek feels a little like adding gasoline to a long-simmering fire.” She raised her hands. “Ka-boom.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Rosalie. The secret has remained buried since Danny was born. That’s a long time. Only four people are alive in this town who even know that Bryce is Danny’s father. None of us has ever broken the promise we made that night.” She frowned and looked away.