Page 25 of Autumn Skies & Pumpkin Pies

I watched as he left, still trying to figure out what had happened to Warbee and how Kaden played into it all.

Keefer didn’t make it back this past weekend though and when I thought I’d go sneak a peek at Warbee she wasn’t in her classroom. A sub is in her place, so I stop by the office. “Hi Carol,” I greet the secretary at the front office. Carol has been here since I attended high school. The only difference is her brown hair is now silver and she has some wrinkles around her green eyes.

“Hello Rocker. How are you today?” she asks.

I nod my head. “I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m great. You and the team are doing so well. I can’t believe you won last weekend too,” she comments.

The team is doing really well. We’ve won the first few games I’ve coached, and this week’s game should be pretty easy. The team we are playing is sloppy and uncoordinated with basic plays. “I agree. They were a difficult team, but these boys have got some talent and serious dedication. It’s all them. Hey, I had a question.”

“Anything for you,” she replies.

“Where’s Warbee? I went by her classroom and I noticed she had a sub.”

Carol’s eyes get sad. “Oh yes, she’s in Atlanta. You know that checkup she has to do every year. Fingers crossed it comes back all clear again. Poor Warbee, she’s just so young to have to deal with all that.”

I nod my head as my heart sinks to my stomach. Warbee is sick. “Thanks, Carol.” My voice is barely above a whisper as I leave out of the office. Everything around me is a blur and all sounds are muffled. Why didn’t anyone tell me she was sick?

Somehow, I manage to make it through the day but it’s all very disconnected for me. My mind keeps wandering back to Warbee. As soon as practice is over, I hightail it out of the parking lot and head straight for my parent’s house.

Twenty-Four

Rocker

It’s a good thing I could make the drive to my parent’s house in my sleep because I might as well be at this moment. I’m moving on autopilot. I’m numb, worried and scared to be honest. I pull up to the lake house that has been home for the majority of my life. My dad worked hard to get us a home on the lake. It was a dream him and my mother shared so when I was in the fourth grade, we finally moved into one. The beautiful, sage green house with white trimming comes into view as I pull into the circle drive. It’s lined by tall trees that make you feel like you are the only ones in the world. The two-car garage is closed, which means both of my parents are probably home. Knowing my dad, he’s probably sitting out back on the dock, fishing. I head up the porch and ring the doorbell. My parents made me keep my key, but I feel strange using it now.

My mom appears behind the screen door. Her golden-brown hair is piled on top of her head and her blue eyes that match mine are happy to see me. She must be cooking because her signature pink apron is on. “Rocker,” she says, as she opens the screen door. “Why don’t you just use your key?”

I shrug. “It just doesn’t feel right to me.”

My tone must seem off, because her face instantly morphs into worry. “What is it?”

“We need to talk, mom.”

She nods and walks towards the kitchen. When we reach the kitchen, my mom quickly makes a plate of snacks and passes them to my older sister, Rebel. “Well, I guess this is my cue to go hang out with dad.”

“Always good to see you Rebel.” I give her a quick hug.

When she pulls away, she looks concerned too. Damn, can everyone tell something is wrong with me? “I’m going to go hang with dad.” Rebel grabs the plate and heads out of the door, her golden blonde hair flying behind her.

My mom places a glass of iced sweet tea in front of one of the bar stools. My cue to take a seat. As I’m sitting, she cuts a piece of her apple pie and places it next to the glass. “So, let’s talk.”

I take a deep breath. “Did you know about Warbee?” I ask.

The guilt that flashes in my mother’s eyes is the only confirmation I need. “Yes, Rocker. This is Blue Ridge, not Nashville. It’s a small, tight knit community. We all knew, and we all did everything we could to help her through it.”

I need to know exactly what happened, but I know my mother. She’ll only give me the cliff note’s version because just like Keefer said the other night, it’s not their story to tell. I sigh and drop my head between my shoulders to gather my thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My mother gives me that mom look, you know the one that asks what you mean? “Rocker, after you left Blue Ridge you made it clear where you stood when it came to Warbee. We knew you were hurting, but you also needed to focus. You couldn’t afford distractions from the game. I wanted to bring it up a thousand times, but I just couldn’t tell you. You never asked about her, so I assumed it was a closed subject.”

“What was it that she was sick with?” This is the part that could very well kill me. If she suffered, which I’m sure she did, while I was out living the high life I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself.

“Rocker, you need to talk to her.”

“Mom, please,” I plead with her.

She looks away and I notice that on the side of the fridge is a picture of Warbee and I in high school. I never noticed it until now, but then again, my mother has just about every picture she’s ever been given crammed onto the sides of the fridge. “It was a form of cancer. I don’t remember all the details, but she was really sick for about a year.”

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