Part 4 (1/2)

I don't know how long I'd been daydreaming when Hendrix blew his whistle and shouted at the boys. The tone he used grated on my nerves, but the boys didn't seem to think anything of it. While Hendrix chewed out his star forward, I chewed my thumbnail (much easier than filing) and argued with myself about just how much to b.u.t.t heads with b.u.t.thead my first day on the job.

My personal threshold for ignorance is low, but all I had to do was look at Brody as he raced from one end of the court to the other, and I remembered that I wasn't there for myself. I was there for the boys. So unless b.u.t.thead stepped over the line, I'd do what he asked and try not to embarra.s.s my nephews.

I even managed to keep that promise for about ten minutes. That's when the b.u.t.thead in question blew another shrill whistle and shouted at the boys to stop what they were doing. All ten stopped running abruptly and turned to face him, faces red, chests heaving from exertion, eyes bright with expectation, as if they thought he held the keys to fame and fortune in the NBA.

”All right,” Hendrix shouted. ”Line up at the free throw line-the A team on the north end, B team on the south.” He strode onto the court in the midst of them, his back rigid, his expression haughty. Brody immediately moved toward the north basket, but Caleb hesitated.

He stood in the middle of the court, his spindly legs sticking out the bottom of his red and white uniform shorts and disappearing again inside shoes that looked twice as big as he was. His pale hair lay plastered against his head, and his nostrils flared as he struggled to catch his breath. Something strong and maternal flared inside me, and I had an almost uncontrollable impulse to sweep him off the court and fill him full of electrolytes.

But I was their aunt, not their mother. If Caleb and Brody had wanted someone maternal around, Elizabeth would be sitting in my place. That convinced me all over again to keep my mouth shut. And I would have, if Coach Hendrix hadn't suddenly focused on Caleb. ”What are you doing, Shaw?”

Caleb sucked in a breath and tried to speak. ”I-I'm-”

I gripped a towel in both hands, hoping that would keep my backside firmly glued to the bench.

”You're supposed to be under your team's basket. What are you doing standing there?”

”I-I can't-”

”He can't breathe, you moron.” I tossed the towel onto the bench and walked onto the court. ”Can't you see that these boys all need a five-minute break, or don't you care?”

Blood rushed to Coach Hendrix's face, and he peered at me as if I'd crawled out from under a rock. ”You're out of place, Shaw.”

”I don't think so.” I moved to Caleb and put my arm around his shoulders. Half a heartbeat later, I realized that might embarra.s.s him, and I pulled it away again. ”I'm just asking you to give them five minutes, not forever.”

”And I'll give them five minutes when they need it.” His beady eyes bored into Caleb, who already looked less red. ”You okay, kid?”

Caleb nodded eagerly. ”Yeah. I'm fine.”

”Are you sure?”

He nodded again without looking at me. ”I'm fine. Sheesh. I'm not a baby.”

Well, terrific. I'd been on the job barely more than an hour, and already I'd stuck my foot in it. Caleb hadn't wanted or needed rescuing, and I'd embarra.s.sed him thoroughly in front of his friends. ”No. Of course you're not,” I said. ”I know that. I wasn't only worried about you.”

Caleb lifted one shoulder and took his place beside his teammates. ”Whatever. I'm okay. You can sit down again.”

Right.

Under the weight of Coach Hendrix's disapproving glare, Caleb's resentful one, and Brody's blank-eyed stare that probably meant he was pretending he didn't know me, I returned to the bench and asked myself again what I was doing there.

Coach Hendrix blew his whistle, and the boys began another drill. I counted bottles of sports drink, straightened the stack of towels, and made a list of people I wanted to thank for this experience, starting with Karen.

After what felt like hours, practice was finally over, and Coach b.u.t.thead traded places with me. While I returned b.a.l.l.s to the wheeled carts and gathered stacks of sweaty used towels, Hendrix sat on the bench and leafed idly through a magazine.

By the time Brody and Caleb emerged from the locker room, I'd convinced myself that I'd made a huge mistake. There was no way I could sit on that bench day after day eating whatever Hendrix dished out for me. No way I could bite my tongue when I thought he'd pushed the boys too far. No way I could suffer the indignity I instinctively knew would be present whenever Kerry Hendrix and I were in the same room.

A mens' pickup team had reserved the court for the time slot directly after ours, and an odd a.s.sortment of players were taking warm-up shots as the boys and I walked through the gym to the doors leading to the back parking lot. Practice had lasted so long, the sun had already dropped behind the western mountains by the time we stepped outside.

All the way across the shadowy parking lot, I tried to figure out the best way to break the news of my quitting to my nephews. I unlocked the car doors and slid behind the wheel. Brody claimed shotgun, which left Caleb in the backseat by himself. I put the key into the ignition but waited for both boys to buckle themselves in before I started the car.

They were both depressingly silent. Caleb wouldn't even look at me, and Brody kept sliding glances in my direction whenever he thought I wasn't looking. Look on the bright side, I told myself. After what had just happened, maybe they'd be glad to find out I was bailing out.

”Listen, you guys,” I said as I started the car and put it into gear, ”I've been thinking.”

Caleb's little head shot up, and his worried eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. ”You're not gonna quit, are you?”

”No, you dork, she's not gonna quit.” Brody's eyes locked on mine. ”Are you?”

What could I say to that? I knew I should say yes, but I couldn't form the word. I s.h.i.+fted in my seat so I could see Caleb better. ”I thought I embarra.s.sed you in there. Why do you want me to stick around?”

He shrugged, just the almost imperceptible lift of one little shoulder, and his gaze drifted to his knees. ”You did, kinda, but only because Coach thinks I'm a sissy.”

My heart shattered at the look on his face. ”He what?”

”He thinks Caleb's a sissy,” Brody said slowly, as if he was talking to an old woman.

I s.h.i.+fted my gaze to him. ”How do you know that's what he thinks?”

”Because he says so. He says it all the time.”

”He says Caleb's a sissy? In front of the other boys?”

Brody nodded, but he seemed unconcerned. ”Yeah. Why?”

”Because Coach Hendrix shouldn't say things like that, especially not in front of the other kids.” I struggled to keep my voice from cracking with anger. ”It's not right.”

”How else is he going to get Caleb to toughen up? Coach says he's the worst player on the whole team.”

”Caleb's almost three years younger than you and some of the other boys. He can't be expected to play at the same level.”

Brody shrugged and glanced into the backseat at his brother. ”I was better than him when I was his age. He's gotta focus, you know?”

I couldn't remember when I'd been so angry, but I reminded myself that Brody was just a kid. He was only parroting things he'd heard. If I was going to get angry with anyone, it would be the jerk whose truck was parked three rows over, and I wasn't going to get angry with him tonight. The boys had already suffered enough because of adults who couldn't shut up around them.

Pasting on a smile that I hoped would encourage poor Caleb, I said, ”Look, kiddo, you're doing just fine. And you're not a sissy. You're a nine-year-old boy.” I had a few other things to say, too, but just then I saw movement near Coach Hendrix's truck, and for the third time in the s.p.a.ce of as many hours, I completely changed my mind.

Maybe I should say something to him, I told myself. Just a word or two. Nothing that would upset the boys, though. Just a quiet word of warning . . .

I split a glance between my nephews and shut off the car. ”Stay here,” I said. ”I'll be right back.” Outside, I bent to make eye contact once more. ”I mean it. Stay here.”

Brody nodded, Caleb offered up a soft promise, and I was off across the parking lot as quickly as I could walk. ”Coach Hendrix? Can I talk to you for a second?”

A head appeared above the truck bed, but it wasn't high enough off the ground to be Kerry Hendrix's. Maybe one of the boys had carried the equipment out after practice. ”Sorry. I thought you were the coach. Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him for a minute.”

Something heavy clattered to the ground beside the truck, and the shadowy figure began to run.