Garrett's Gift Page 3

  3

  Most people in town already knew what happened. Many had witnessed the darkest day of Garrett’s life, so he didn’t need to talk about it. Ever. But Micara hadn’t lived in Sweet Home at that time, and now she had stepped into guarded territory. Still, he didn’t figure one more person knowing about it would make a difference.

  “I was the starting quarterback, in my senior year at Sweet Home High. Scouts were looking at me, and I was close to signing with a university. I just needed to decide which one. The decision was mine. The whole world was mine, for all I knew. My girlfriend was head cheerleader. Jayanne Waylon. We were a textbook couple.

  “That summer, before school started, I asked her to marry, me and she said yes. We talked a lot about getting married and what our life together would be like. I would play college ball before going pro. It sounded too good to be true, and now I know why.”

  He’d lost his football career. He’d lost his fiancée. His life was filled with so much loss and pain that he’d even lost his faith.

  Micara sank into the chair adjacent the couch and leaned on one of the armrests.

  He adjusted the sofa cushion behind his head. “In the second quarter, a direct hit from a linebacker sent my body twisting through the air. I came down with my knee underneath me and…well, the rest is history. It gave a whole new meaning to the term “sacked.” I was rushed to the hospital while my best friend, Brent Berg, finished the game for me. He finished a lot of things for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He took over my life. Jayanne dumped me and went out with Brent. They went off to college together, and Brent played football. He went pro, and they married. He took over my life, and I got sacked. And that’s the end of the story.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Her voice held an unyielding certainty.

  “Excuse me?”

  She moved closer to him. Her nearness made him uncomfortable.

  “You’re still alive, so that can’t be the end of the story.”

  Somehow, he’d hoped this beautiful young woman would say something profound…something he hadn’t heard before from concerned friends and relatives. He should have known better. She’d come up with the same old thing, just different words.

  He lay quiet for a moment and then continued. “After my football dream shattered, my only option, with a bad leg, was teaching and coaching. I’m not the smartest guy in the world and never ventured out of this town to make something of myself. My father died. My mother died. I inherited land that I can’t do anything with. Gabriel hates me. My other brothers moved off. And now, Jayanne and Brent are returning to Sweet Home, just when I was starting not to think about them for five minutes. Talk about timing.” Thinking about his life in staggered increments kept him depressed but still breathing. Summing it up in one lump set his insides on fire. If only Micara weren’t sitting there looking at him with those big, soft brown eyes.

  “Why are Brent and Jayanne coming to town?”

  “The town council is honoring Brent at the Sweet Home Heroes banquet.”

  He’d have to be in the same room with them at the banquet. The superintendent had selected him as the athletic representative for the school. How was he supposed to introduce the man who was living his life? He might as well rip out his heart, mount it on a plaque, and hand it to the guy. Brent had taken everything else.

  “It sounds like you had a perfect life and then everything fell apart.”

  He nodded. “Top of the world.”

  “I wouldn’t know what that’s like.” Micara’s soft voice commanded his attention. “My life was never a fairytale, until my mother and I moved here to escape an abusive situation. You think your life ended at seventeen, Garrett, but mine started at that age.”

  Garrett didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent.

  “Then these developers started lurking around, trying to change this place that I call home. My grandmother could lose her land and home. Everything is in limbo right now. I’ve questioned God on more than one occasion. I’m not proud of that, but trust is hard to come by when things don’t go the way you planned.”

  How could she talk about trusting God when life was crumbling beneath her feet? Some people attracted happiness and success. Others didn’t. That was just the way it worked.

  He should say something. “Better not to trust. Trusting makes a person expect something positive to happen. I just expect the worst…always. Then I’m never disappointed.”

  A single tear streamed down Micara’s cheek, and then more tears fell. She wiped at them with her hand. The leather chair in which she sat was overstuffed and squeaked when she moved. “Garrett, God has something incredible planned for you. I knew it the instant I met you at the community center and found out you were part of this town’s founding family. Something in your eyes held me captive. I didn’t know what it was at first, but I do now. We’re in the same boat, each of us waiting to see what God has planned for us. Good or bad, we’ll make it through. It may not be what we imagined, but we have the choice to make the best of it. We were brought together for a reason.”

  Micara might be a little over the top with the whole God thing, but something within Garrett reached out to her in a way he’d never experienced. He wanted to find happiness again. He wanted a purpose in life again.

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to say a little prayer for us.” Micara nodded. No hesitancy. No obvious embarrassment.

  He nodded, uncertain. How long had it been since he’d prayed?

  She took his hands and closed her eyes. Transfixed, he watched her. A beautiful calmness washed over her face. A feathery feeling, like the eyelashes against her cheek, enveloped him.

  “Lord, we come to you today in need of guidance. Garrett and I know we have a purpose. Please…lead us to it. Give us eyes that see what You need us to see, ears that hear what You need us to hear, and hands that are strong enough to do Your will. Most importantly, help us erase the ideas and plans that we have for ourselves, making room for Yours. Help us adopt the motto, ‘What’s next, Lord?’ with eager hearts. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Garrett choked out the word, surprised by the depth of emotion Micara’s prayer had evoked.

  Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze darted toward the doorway, drawn by the sound of boots plodding across the wooden floor. “Hello there, Gabriel.”

  His brother stood in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Had he heard and seen them praying together?

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Gabriel tipped his hat in true cowboy fashion and left through the kitchen.

  “Your brother is an interesting man. Is he always so dry and quiet?”

  Garrett shrugged. “He’s a man of few words—words that pack a mean punch. But yeah, he’s always been the quiet type. Keep in mind that he’s furious with me right now.”

  “Why is that?”

  If he answered it, she might never speak to him again. For some reason, he couldn’t let that happen.

  Gabriel chose that moment to re-enter the house through the front door. Crossing the room, his work boots pounded on the hardwood floor. “Sparrow dropped this off. You left it in her car.”

  A leather wallet landed in Garrett’s lap. He flinched, and his knee jerked. “Thanks a lot.” He couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm from his voice.

  His brother ignored him and fixed his sober gaze on Micara. “How’s the front yard coming along?”

  Micara stood and faced Gabriel at her full height—which still left her almost a foot shorter than he was. “I should be done the day after tomorrow. Four days, as promised.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Great. Thank you.”

  Micara glanced from brother to brother and then shrugged. “Well, I better get back to work.” She left.

  Garrett stared at Gabriel. “Could you make me a sandwich? I’m starving.”

  The look on Gabriel’s face could’ve melted steel. “Get it yourself.”

  Garrett laid his head b
ack on the pillow and let out a deep breath. Good ole’ Gabriel.

  “And don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna need you to work at the dairy on Saturday. You’ll be hobblin’ around well enough by then.”

  Garrett hated working at the dairy with his brother, but doing so wasn’t all about Gabe. He owed it to their parents. But with his knee on the blink, Gabe would stick him behind a desk to do paperwork. That was worse than working the cows.

  This promised to be the longest recovery in history.

  4

  Micara watched from the front-row bleachers, near the fifty-yard line at the Sweet Home football stadium. The spectators, band, cheerleaders, and booths selling various spirit items drew her attention. MeMaw’s booth had a steady stream of customers, but it had slowed down enough that Micara felt comfortable enough leaving her on her own to visit with Garrett.

  Garrett had invited her to sit with him at the junior high football game after she’d called the school to check on him and left her number. She was sure his politeness stemmed from her helping him with his injury. But she was excited to spend the evening with him, even if she wasn’t much of a sports person. And the fact that she’d already planned on attending to help MeMaw set up and take down her booth made it seem like it was meant to be.

  They’d visited the concession stand and now waited for the game to start again after halftime.

  “Are you gonna eat all those nachos?” Garrett snagged a tortilla chip covered with melted cheese and jalapeño peppers and shoved it in his mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Hot!” Tears streamed from his eyes.­

  Micara hiked a brow. “That’s what you get for stealing my nachos.”

  Garrett swallowed and let out a gush of air. “I didn’t take you for a spicy food fan.”

  “You might be surprised by a lot of things about me.”

  He swallowed the offending nacho and took a sip of his soda. “Let me guess. You’re an innocent landscaper by day. By night, you sneak into yards and plant weeds on purpose. Maybe even poison ivy for your worst enemies.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, you know it. I’m a lean, mean, jalapeño-eating machine. Watch out, or I’ll plant a prickly bush on your walking path.”

  “Come on now. I doubt you’d even let a flower wilt.” Garrett licked the cheese sauce off his finger and thumb. The corner of his mouth lifted into a boyish grin.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m that perfect. Somewhere between not letting a single flower wilt and placing poisonous plants on pathways.”

  “That’s a pretty big window.” Garrett abandoned stealing nachos and dug into his own chili-cheese fries.

  With halftime over, the band played a lively tune, and the announcer’s voice vibrated in the oversized speakers on either side of the wooden press box. On the front of the little building, someone had painted an eagle with talons extended and wings spread.

  “I guess it just depends on what mood I’m in. Every rose has its thorn.”

  “Oooh, quoting a song on the first date. I like it.” He nudged her with his elbow.

  Micara smiled. “Actually, it’s an ancient Greek proverb.”

  Garrett’s brows shot up. Micara couldn’t help a little twinge of pleasure. She’d impressed him. “I’m familiar with the song too. It’s a fun song.”

  “Excellent. Excuse me a minute.” He started to get up.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Nah, I’m just going to check on the game plan for the second half. I like to know what’s going on with all the football teams, not just my high school varsity team. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be right here. Take your time.”

  Garrett placed some weight on his bad leg and bounced a little, then winced.

  Micara flinched. She shoved her paper tray of nachos onto the bench and started to stand.

  He raised one hand to stop her from getting up. “I’m good. Just testing the waters before I take a plunge. And I will take my time. Couldn’t hurry if I wanted to.”

  He limped to the field where he conversed for a few minutes with the coach on the sidelines. He patted the man on the shoulder, limped back, and gave Micara a grin. “What did I miss?”

  “I honestly couldn’t tell you.” She nibbled at her lip, dreading the confession she must make. “I know nothing about football. Friends have tried to explain, but it just doesn’t click. Touchdowns, free throws, and negative yards. It’s crazy. I mean how does one achieve negative yards? Running backward?”

  Garrett’s hearty laughter drew the attention of people around them. He was about to explain negative yards, she just knew it.

  “Free throws are for basketball.” He lowered his voice and talked slow, as if teasing her. “As for negative yards—”

  Micara pressed her hand over his mouth. “Stop! Don’t even try to explain it.”

  He pulled her hand off of his mouth and smiled. “You’re something else, Micara Lee.”

  She giggled. “Thanks for inviting me out tonight. Even if I wasn’t already planning on being here, I would’ve accepted. I’ve had two long days of hard work at Gabriel’s place, and I still have two more days to go. This was a much-needed break before I wrap things up.”

  “I’m having a fantastic time, too. At these junior high games, I sit up in the press box with the announcer or stand on the sidelines. I haven’t watched a game like a regular spectator in a long time.” He extended his leg across the bleacher in front of him. “Plus, I was afraid if I didn’t ask you out before you finished up at my brother’s place, I might not find another convincing reason to speak to you. When you called to check on me, it gave me the perfect opportunity.”

  Micara stared at him for a moment and shifted in her seat. So he’d wanted to see her again. Overwhelmed with self-consciousness, she played with a braided string bracelet that adorned her wrist and then took a sip of soda. “You could have just called. You didn’t need a reason.” She leaned toward him. “You’ve done a lot of dating, then?”

  “Right after my accident, when I was in college in Dallas, I was quite the ladies’ man. Still hurting from my breakup with Jayanne. Nothing serious though. I taught school there for a couple of years, but football kept calling my name. The competition for coaching positions was tough, so when the opportunity to be the head football coach opened up here, I took the job. And I’ve been here ever since. With my knee so unpredictable, I couldn’t coach anywhere else. They are understanding of my physical situation. In bigger schools…well, there’s just too much pressure to risk having the head coach on the injured list. So here I’ve stayed. But I haven’t dated much since I’ve been back in Sweet Home.” As much as he hated to admit it, this town had been decent to him. And every time he glanced at Micara, he came up with another reason to stay.

  “That’s understandable.”

  “The dating part or the part about how I succumbed to the black hole that is Sweet Home?”

  “Both. But I was referring to the dating part. I was in a serious relationship that ended on bad terms. I haven’t dated anyone in Sweet Home, but not because I haven’t wanted to. No one’s come along.”

  “I’m surprised you and I haven’t run into each other before now, especially since your grandmother has a booth. I thought everybody here knew everybody else.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m glad we have now, though.”

  She quivered under the awkwardness of his gaze—and of broken relationships in a rural area where running into your ex on a regular basis was.

  When it came to dating in a small town, everyone knowing everyone else only made things more trying. Creating displays of flowers and plants for others to view and discuss was one thing, but building a relationship under the constant scrutiny of friends, family, and Fred-from-down-the-road was entirely another, so she hadn’t sought anyone from town to date. Besides, she had too many responsibilities occupying her time.

  The band started the fight song, and the crowd erupted. Micara jumped to her feet as well. Sweet Home sco
red again, putting them in the lead. She cheered along with the crowd. “Go, Eagles! Home run—”

  “Touchdown,” Garrett said quietly and pulled on her arm.

  “I mean, touchdown. Woohoo!” She laughed, unfazed by her blooper. She took the hand on her arm and squeezed it. Then she sat back down, surprised but gratified when he didn’t let go of her fingers for several seconds. Was he making sure she wouldn’t jump up and make a fool of herself again? Or was he contemplating holding her hand? Whatever the reason, she enjoyed his gentle touch if only for a moment.

  Sweet Home scored three more touchdowns before time ran out on the scoreboard. The Eagles’ freshman team started off the season with a win, and the man at her side was slowly but surely winning her over.

  Garrett kept close by as they loaded MeMaw’s spirit products into the back of her car. He couldn’t lift much yet, but he helped the work go faster by escorting them in the school’s golf cart. Afterward, as MeMaw drove away, Garrett offered Micara a ride to her car across the parking lot.

  Making their way through the departing crowd to her car, he peered at her from under his baseball cap. “Did you enjoy the game?”

  “I did. I haven’t been to a football game that I’ve actually watched since high school. I don’t know if you can tell, but I don’t know that much about the game.”

  “Nah, you looked like a seasoned fan out there.” His lips twitched. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” He squeezed her hand, then stiffened and let it go. “Slade!” His booming voice shot across the lot, and he steered the golf cart in the direction of his call.

  A group of boys was crowded under the bleachers. A skinny, blond kid’s head snapped up. Several of the other teens scattered as Garrett pulled up. He climbed out of the golf cart and limped in their direction.

  Not sure what to do, Micara followed him.

  “I’m disappointed that you weren’t playing tonight, Slade.” Garrett spoke in a stern, no-nonsense voice.

  The boy ducked his head. “Yeah, well, I’ve missed too much school.”

  “The school year’s just started. What’s going on?” Garrett’s tone was full of concern.