FOOTBALL
GAMES FILLED that afternoon. Occasionally the family room was overly
loud when favorite teams fouled or scored. Evan got along so good with her
brothers and brothers-in-law that she didn’t worry about staying close to keep
him comfortable. She kept an attentive eye, making sure her brothers weren’t
harassing him too badly, but mostly the women stayed in the cushy breakfast
nook, playing cards and talking. It wasn’t that they weren’t interested in the
televised game. In fact, every touchdown held their attention as the large
screen was easily viewable from the adjoining room. However, they used the time
as a chance to girl talk.
During halftime of the second game, she cut through the
den area en route to the downstairs restroom, and found Evan among the missing.
She had been restocking the drinks in the fridge and hadn’t noticed his exit of
the room. A halftime show was on the television. Her eldest brother and her
father were the only two still in front of the television.
Going on to her original destination, she took care of
business and dallied before the mirror, combing through her hair before leaving
the tiny tiled room. The socks on her feet were silent on the hardwood hall
floor, and she detoured, hearing voices drifting from her father’s study. With
her hand on the doorjamb, she took in the scene before her.
Her brothers-in-law were just winding up a game of darts.
And Mart and Evan were standing before the shelves encasing the various
trophies, ribbons, and achievements she and her siblings had accumulated
through their school and college years.
Seeing on the room’s small television that halftime was
over, the male gender all vacated back to the family room and the large-screen
television. Evan was the exception, and he threw a grin her way. “You played
basketball.”
It was a statement, not a question. Her eyes swung to the
trophy that had occupied the same spot since high school. “Does that surprise
you? Don’t tell me you thought I was a cheerleader!”
“Last night, you were cheering instead of playing.” With
another engaging curve of his lips, he let his eyes travel over her features.
“But no, somehow I don’t see you standing on the sidelines while somebody else
has the ball.” His fingers touched the thick vinyl spline of a photo album on a
shelf. “Do you have pictures of when you were on the team?”
Hesitating, she wavered, afraid of opening more doors and
crossing more thresholds in their relationship. Finally, relenting, she pulled
out a particular album and went to the sofa. In the organized and old-school
way her mother did things, among the many photo albums were scrapbooks—one
dedicated to each of her children.
Evan settled beside her on the overstuffed worn couch as
she opened the book. He smiled over her first grade field day ribbon, and
seemed impressed with her fifth-grade science project picture and ribbon.
Basketball team pictures. Prom pictures. Senior pictures. He gazed intently.
“Codi!” Randi popped her head in the doorway. “Sorry to
interrupt, but I need to run to the store. Your car’s behind me.”
“I’ll move it,” Evan offered with his usual chivalry. “I
didn’t know who it was safe to park behind.” By the time he had arrived earlier
in the afternoon, the driveway was already lined with vehicles. A touchdown was
scored at that moment, and his attention riveted momentarily to the tv.
“I’ll do it,” Dakota replied, not wanting him to miss any
of the game.
It took her a few minutes to locate her car keys. When
Evan had returned them to her, she hadn’t put them directly into her purse. The
kitchen ‘catch all,’ a blue speckled stoneware bowl, was where she found them.With the car re-parked and Randi
on her way, she returned to the house, entering through the kitchen.
In the quarter of an hour she had been out of pocket, she
fully expected Evan to have returned to the den’s forty-two inch plasma screen,
but he was where she had left him. His eyes were on the game and the scrapbook
was still spread on his lap. As she advanced across the plush piled carpet, he
redirected his gaze, and the newspaper clipping in his fingers fluttered back
to the open page.
With a laugh, she reached for the scrapbook. “You’ve got
to be bored with that—” Her words came to an abrupt halt, and her hand dropped
when she saw something different in his expression.
“You had your fifteen minutes of fame.” Husky with
compassion, his voice had her scrutiny converging to the article still at his
fingertips.
Dread seeped like a poison through her cells. A poison she
had drank and somehow survived, but never forgotten it’s vile taste.
Without a doubt, having never seen them, at least not
neatly tucked in the scrapbook, she knew the subject of the articles. But why,
she wondered, confused and disgruntled, had her mother kept something so grim
mixed in with her daughter’s greatest achievements and happiest moments?
Needing no confirmation of the direction of her thoughts, but seeking it
anyway, she dropped to the cushion beside him and skimmed the newspaper byline.
“It was more than fifteen minutes.” Her words were dull,
completely devoid of any passion. There was no anger, embarrassment, or regret.
Long ago, the situation had vacuumed any emotion pertaining to it from her.
“How did it all begin?” His inquiry was soft, and he
suddenly seemed closer, though he hadn’t moved.
Was there a beginning? She teleported back to the
problematic days of her first teaching position. Crowded classrooms, delinquent
teenagers, disinterested staff. For a young woman fresh out of college, ready
to pursue her dreams and make a difference in the world, it had been a time of
great disillusion. She had made her mark on the world. Her little part of it
anyway...
...spoilers removed...
...Tawny brown eyes regarded her intently for a few long
seconds before he dropped another seemingly disbelieving glance at the papers
and then slowly closed the book.
Later Dakota asked her mother why on earth had she kept
the clippings, and even so, had placed them in her scrapbook. Her mother
replied that as difficult as that time had been in her life, it was one of her
achievements, and she should be as proud for standing up for her beliefs as she
was for achieving the honor roll.
Sheltered by Hope Shyne
is currently free to read on Kindle Unlimited. Also available on Kindle and in Paperback from Amazon. Click Here
