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  What he couldn’t shake was the last encounter with Jack Murphy. Jack had sent a warning. Or was it a threat? Something he’d done had gotten Jack worked up. It was either his call to Ms. Jones or to the police. Or both. And one or both of them must have let Jack know Max had called. But why? That was the question he didn’t have an answer to.

  Part of him knew he should just let it drop; it would be stupid to get on the wrong side of Jack Murphy. But something was wrong. Whatever was happening in Lakeside involved Jack and had possibly led to Dante’s death. He had no proof linking Jack to Dante, but he had the picture of the accident scene. And Michelle had it too. If she hadn’t deleted it. And their marriage.

  On the way into school, he passed the scene of Dante’s accident as he did every morning. It was a pivotal moment. It was then that he decided he couldn’t let it go. That he wouldn’t ignore the fact that a young man had died, a young man he had coached and cared about.

  The police department might have closed the investigation and Jack had warned him, even threatened him to stay away. But he was the only person, other than the police, who knew something wasn’t right.

  As Max pulled into the school parking lot, his phone buzzed. It was Dante’s mother, the last person he expected to hear from. Michelle was a close second though. It wasn’t a long conversation, but she said she was willing to meet with him. He had a coach’s meeting scheduled after practice, so he offered to come to her house when he was done.

  He could hear the panic in her voice when she quickly suggested they meet at Kennedy Coffee shop just off the interstate in Bentonville. It was a forty-five-minute drive from Lakeside. They agreed to meet there at nine.

  What is she so afraid of?

  Chapter 37

  As important as preparing for the Rogers game was, Max found it impossible to stay focused during practice or the meeting with his coaching staff afterwards. He couldn’t keep this eyes off Dave Turner who wouldn’t make eye contact and was fidgeting with a pen through the entire meeting. Max ended the meeting early a few minutes before eight, which gave him enough time to get to the meeting with Ms. Jones.

  On the drive to Bentonville, so many jumbled thoughts raced through his mind. What was Michelle thinking? What were ten actions that made her feel loved? What could they do to move the ball against Rogers? How did Jack Murphy know he’d called Ms. Jones or the police or both? He didn’t have a complete answer to any of those questions. And the partial answers made him even more confused.

  At exactly nine o’clock, he parked his truck and walked inside the coffee shop. A dozen or so people were seated at various tables talking or staring at a screen of some kind. He studied the menu written on the blackboard hanging behind the counter, which looked to contain everything except coffee.

  The woman in front of him ordered a drink he’d never heard of. It included “mocha” and “decaf” and “soy” and sounded like something Michelle would order. The server rang up the order and handed the woman her change. She asked Max what she could get for him. He was about to tell her he just wanted a black coffee, but changed his mind. He asked for whatever the woman in front of him had just ordered. With one difference. He wanted regular coffee, not decaf.

  He paid for whatever it was he ordered and found a table in the corner near the window and watched the door for Dante’s mother while listening for the server to call his name. He tried to remember what the servers in a place like this were called. Michelle had tried to tell him several times, but he usually got it wrong. He wanted to say they were “barristers”, but knew it didn’t sound quiet right. After racking his brain trying to remember, he gave up trying and a minute later, his name was called.

  He thanked her and took his drink back to the corner table. Instead of a cup of black coffee like he usually had, he was staring at a bowl of coffee with foam on top in the shape of a smiley face. He looked around to see how many other people were drinking from bowls. Most were.

  He lifted it with two hands and took a sip. He was surprised at how good it tasted. It reminded him of Rose’s cinnamon rolls more than it did a cup of coffee. He took another sip and decided to find out exactly what he was drinking so he could get it again. Maybe he could even learn how to make it at home for Michelle. He took out a note pad from his shirt pocket and wrote down:

  4. Make special drinks she likes.

  He now had four things on his list that he felt confident would make Michelle feel loved. He had the rest of the week to come up with six more before breakfast with Willy and Rose on Saturday. He took another sip of his drink and looked at the clock. It was five minutes after nine. He’d give Ms. Jones ten more minutes before calling her.

  It had been a long time since he’d sat down in a coffee shop like this. He looked around at the other tables while trying not to stare. There were a couple groups of teenagers with books spread out on the table. They were probably Bentonville high school students studying for a test or working on a project. But mostly they were looking at their phones.

  Young couples occupied three tables. They were far enough away that he couldn’t hear their conversations, but he could imagine based on their body language. One couple was leaning across the table holding hands. They didn’t take their eyes off each other. At the next table, the woman was sipping a drink looking at the guy who was doing something on his phone. She seemed to be waiting patiently for him to finish whatever was more important than her. Max couldn’t tell if the third couple was angry at each other or had just given up.

  It didn’t take a lot of insight to see the three couples mirrored the various stages of his relationship with Michelle. He only hoped they’d be able to recapture what he saw in the first couple, the one that reminded him of Willy and Rose.

  And then the door opened. He looked to see who was entering, hoping to see Dante’s mother, but it wasn’t her.

  What is Jack Murphy doing here?

  Chapter 38

  Jack wasted no time making his way straight to Max’s table. “How are you, Max?” Jack sat down uninvited.

  “What are you doing here, Jack?” Max tried not to sound surprised even though he was completely taken off guard.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Jack said.

  The two men glared at each other.

  “Where is she?” Max said.

  He expected Jack to lie, to act like he didn’t know anything about Ms. Jones. But he didn’t. Apparently, they were beyond that now. “Let’s not worry about her,” Jack said. “Not right now anyway.”

  Max forced himself to relax, even though he wanted to lunge across the table and plant his forearm in Jack’s grinning face. But a move like that would be all it would take for Bill Jackson to fire him with cause. And there would go his job, his pension, his reputation and probably his marriage. He could see the headline now...

  Lakeside Football Coach Assaults Booster Club President

  “Max, despite what you may think, I like you,” Jack said. “And I know you’ve come through some hard stuff, losing your daughter and all. I want to help you.”

  “Get to the point, Jack.” He was resisting the urge to flip the table and deal with Jack Murphy once and for all.

  “Alright, have it your way, Max. I’m going to ask you nicely to back off.”

  “From what, Jack? Back off from what?”

  Jack sighed and rubbed his face with both hands the way a parent does when a child is pushing the limits. “Listen to me, Max!” He said loud it enough for the nearby tables to notice. Jack apologized to the couple at the next table then lowered his voice and said, “You need to back off from things you don’t understand. From things much bigger than just you... or me...or Dante.”

  Max looked down at his bowl of coffee and wished it was just a black cup of coffee. “And if I don’t?”

  Jack’s half smile disappeared and was replaced by narrow eyes and a clenched jaw. He looked like Max felt.

  One of the televisions above was showing the tropica
l storms that were slowly making their way westward. One was headed directly at Florida. The other one, right behind it, was beginning to turn to the north. Jack nodded toward the screen and said, “Ever been in a hurricane, Max?”

  “Nope.” Max felt his heart pounding.

  “Me either,” Jack said. “But if I knew something that big and powerful, something so unpredictable, was coming toward me—there’s no way I’d stick around. A man would have to be a fool to....”

  “What? A man would have to be a fool to what, Jack?”

  Jack eyes were locked in on Max. He leaned across the table and in a low, steady voice said, “To heed the warning.” He sat back in his chair. His expression relaxed slightly. “Why risk getting killed, right? You never know...” Jack smiled, got up, pushed his chair under the table and stood over Max. “...what a hurricane is capable of until you’re in one.”

  “Where is she?” Max said.

  Jack looked back at the television and ignored the question. “Keep an eye on the storm, Max.”

  Jack walked to the door and left. Max tried calling Ms. Jones but didn’t get an answer and hung up without leaving a message. He thought about calling the police, but what would he say? She missed their date? That Jack Murphy threatened him?

  He had learned one thing though. Jack was connected to Ms. Jones. So either she had called him after agreeing to meet with him or somehow Jack had found out about the meeting. It didn’t make sense for her to call Jack though. Why would she agree to meet him here and then inform Jack? He was still trying to make sense of it all when his phone buzzed. He picked it up and got the second big surprise of the night.

  Michelle was calling.

  Chapter 39

  “Hi, Shelle,” Max said as he made his way outside as Jack Murphy was pulling away in his black Escalade.

  “Hi, Max,” she said.

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” he said while walking to his truck. The wind had picked up since he’d gone inside. Leaves were blowing off the nearby trees.

  “Where are you?” she said. “It’s hard to hear you.”

  He had nothing to hide, but it was a long story that only seemed to be getting longer, so he said, “Just got done with a meeting. Now I’m walking back to my truck.” It was the truth. Just not all of it. Of course, he didn’t know all the truth. He actually knew very little of it.

  “So look, I got your text. That one about what makes me feel loved.” She sounded more annoyed than encouraged.

  “What did you think?” he said as he climbed into his truck and started the engine.

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling,” she said. “So where’s this coming from?”

  “Coming from?” he said.

  “Yes, Max, why now?” She was clearly irritated, not pleased by his attempt to be a better husband. Willy and Rose had warned him though. There was no guarantee Michelle would respond.

  “Well, I know I haven’t done a good job the past few years. At being a husband, I mean. I want to do better.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know.”

  He wasn’t prepared for her reaction and didn’t want to irritate her any further. “Okay, well then, do you want to just take some time to think about it?”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “You just don’t get it.”

  “Then help me,” he said.

  “Max, I know full well what makes me feel loved,” she said. “Why didn’t you ask me this three years ago?” She was quiet for a moment. “Look, it’s too late for this.”

  He looked at the clock. It was a little after nine-thirty, which made it an hour later for her. “I’m sorry, Shelle. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. He didn’t know what else to say and was afraid to hear what she might say. Finally, she said it, “For us, Max, for us. It’s too late for us.”

  It felt like a punch in the stomach again, a feeling he was becoming used to. Even if he had the words, it wouldn’t have mattered, the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him say it.

  “I’m sorry, Max. “I have to go.”

  And before he realized what he was saying, he heard the question come from his lips. “Is there someone else, Shelle?”

  Silence. Then, “I have to go,” she said.

  She’s seeing another man. He pounded his fists on the dashboard. Tears filled his eyes. But it’s my fault.

  Chapter 40

  He’d been so sure he was doing better. He had plans. And he was working those plans. He was meeting with Willy and Rose who were going to help him restore his marriage. Lakeside was coming off a win over Springdale. And less than an hour ago, he’d thought he was about to get to the bottom of some of his unanswered questions. And now he felt like he’d been sent back to square one. Or square zero, if there was one.

  He came to a fork in the road and kept right to head back to Lakeside. He was also at a fork on this new road his life was on. Just when he’d been trying harder, to make better choices, to be the man and husband he should be…God wasn’t coming through. He could feel the darkness descending. And it was feeding on his anger and disappointment.

  He stomped on the accelerator and watched the speedometer move from 50 mph, to 60 mph, to 70 mph. The steering wheel of his old truck shook in his hands. He let out a yell and backed off his speed.

  He’d let his guard down and had begun to believe again that God was trustworthy. It felt just like when his father had promised to catch him if he’d jump off the dock into the lake. Only his father hadn’t caught him. He’d let him go under and inhale a mouthful of water. Well, he was trying to do things God’s way and he could feel himself about to inhale another mouthful.

  Maybe the problem wasn’t God. Maybe he didn’t deserve to have God catch him. He’d wanted nothing to do with God for over three years. God had every right to ignore his cry for help now. So why even try? Why even expect God to show up?

  He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind, but with little success. He couldn’t go down the dark path of anger and resentment again. He couldn’t let bitterness rule his heart any more. It was a dark, lonely, terrifying journey. It was too costly.

  At quarter after ten he pulled his truck into his driveway. He missed seeing Michelle’s car. He wanted her back. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. He shut the truck off and rested his head against the steering wheel.

  Oh God, please help me.

  Chapter 41

  Tuesday, September 24

  The alarm went off at five-thirty. He normally didn’t have trouble getting out of bed, but today was different. He pulled the covers over his head. No part of him wanted to get up. There was no thought of jumping out of bed and attacking the day. It was more like the days were attacking him. And he wasn’t sure how much fight he had left.

  A steady rain was pelting the window. The high was forecast to be in the upper 40’s. No one liked practicing in the rain. Especially a cold rain. He wanted to call in sick. But the head coach wasn’t allowed to do that.

  The previous night felt just like the first play of the Fayetteville game. Everything looked good until the whistle blew and seconds later the ball was bouncing into the hands of an opposing player.

  If football was the only problem he had to deal with, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. But football was the least of his worries. There was so much on the line. His job. His marriage. His life. And nothing was going his way, no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing.

  He rehearsed the conversation with Jack. If he was involved in Dante’s death and had prevented Ms. Jones from meeting with him—what was he supposed to do? Go to the police? Which police? He was sure the Lakeside police knew more about Dante’s death than they were letting on. And he could only imagine how crazy he would sound trying to explain Jack’s threats and a missed meeting with a grieving mother.

  As he lay in bed listening to the wind and rain gaining strength, he flashed back to
a similar day several years earlier. Some of his players had asked if practice was going to be cancelled or at least moved indoors to the gym. He addressed the team that day and told them the fans weren’t going to come out to watch practice when it was raining and forty degrees. Not even parents or girlfriends were going to show up in weather like that. But none of that mattered; champions were made when no one was watching.

  He’d known a lot of football players who didn’t train in the off-season. They had talent, but not character. They were lazy. They did just enough to get by. They were self-focused, not team-focused. So they took the easy road. When no one was watching, they slacked off.