Page 143 of Shame the Devil
“The thunderbolt. And I can’t shake her. I’m not going to take her away from her goals. I don’t think I could if I wanted to, and I don’t want to, at least my better side doesn’t. But seems I’m on this ride, and I’ve got to take it as far as it goes.”
She put her arms around him, then, and gave him a hug. How could she not? After a startled moment, he hugged back. It was basically hugging a mountain, but even mountains had feelings. She pulled back, finally, and said, “You’re a good man. I want good things for you. And I trust you with my daughter.”
He blew out a long breath. “Thanks. That means a lot.” A smile in his voice, then, as he said, “And I think we’d better head back up there. Harlan looks like he doesn’t know what to think. Never knew him to be a jealous guy. Laid-back guy, yeah. Casual guy. Not sure he feels that way now. And so you know—he’s solid. If he says it, you can trust it. Not everybody’s a decent guy. He is.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I see why the two of you are friends. And you’re right.” She tried to laugh, even though the whole day had her close to tears almost every second. “We’d better go back up there. It’s a party. No. It’s acelebration.”
59
Unfinished Business
On a Thursday morningover a month later, Jennifer got a call at work.
She thought it was Harlan. Itfeltlike Harlan. She’d never been a superstitious person, but this pregnancy, or her life now, or … something—was changing her.
It was Annabelle, so she’d been close.
Jennifer said, “Hey. How’s it going? You on break?” Annabelle and Dyma had found summer jobs at Voodoo Donuts, “since,” as Dyma had put it, “that’s about the most Portlandia thing ever. Plus, vegetarian, and how am I supposed to work at Burger King anymore? Do youknowhow the fast-food industry sources their meat? Drug-resistant bacteria, anyone?”
Annabelle said, “Jennifer? Uh …” Then an indrawn breath, and Jennifer’s blood ran cold.
Harlan.Something had happened.He’d been spending some time in Wyoming over the past few weeks, helping Owen with his football camp before training camp started next week. He’d been sorry to go, and, she thought, a little excited to go, too. “Guess I’ll get some dad pointers,” he’d said when he’d kissed her goodbye at the airport this latest time. “Get Owen to let me work with the little guys, maybe.”
She took a breath of her own and said, “Annabelle. What’s happened?”
“Uh …” Annabelle said, her voice high and breathy, “Alison called me. She’d been trying to get hold of Harlan all day, but he didn’t answer.”
Jennifer’s head started swimming, and her vision started going black around the edges. She said, “Hang …” and put her head between her knees. The hand holding the phone was trembling so hard, she nearly dropped it, but she managed to say, “Tell me.”
Annabelle did.
* * *
It was hot in Wyoming.About eighty-three, Harlan figured, and some of the boys were flagging. He clapped his hands and called, “Let’s bring it in! Gatorade break!” and they came jogging over. Helmets on little heads, skinny shoulders bulked up by pads.
He’d just gotten them into the shade when Owen came jogging over with that surprisingly fluid motion you didn’t expect from such a big man. “Hey,” Harlan said. “Don’t want to save the running for next week, huh?” Owen, he could tell, was itching to get to training camp the same way he was himself. As grueling as camp was, as much as you swore and ached and hated almost every minute of it—if you didn’t burn to be out on the field, you didn’t belong in this game. Plus, Harlan might have something else to play for now. That made a difference.
Owen’s face, though, was serious. Nearly grim. Harlan thought,Jennifer. The baby.And time froze.
He thought,He doesn’t even have a name yet.
Owen said, “Jennifer’s here. I left her back at the office where it’s cool. She wasn’t looking too good.”
Harlan was already going, but he turned back to say, “The kids.”
“I’ve got the kids,” Owen said. “Go.”
Harlan could run the 40 in 4.27 seconds. He ran this faster. By the time he got to the mobile home that was the football camp’s office, he was breathing hard, and his golf shirt was stuck to his back.
Jennifer wasn’t sitting inside, in the cool. She was sitting on the front steps, and when she saw him, she stood up and came to meet him. In her work clothes, which meant a turquoise knit dress that stretched over her soccer-ball-sized bump, and if he was sweaty, she was worse, her skin flushed and beads of sweat on her upper lip.
He said, “Let’s go inside.”
“Harlan—” she started to say.
“Inside,” he said, suddenly furious. “Why won’t you takecareof yourself?”
She reared back, and he forced the calm and said, “Sorry. Whatever it is—tell me inside.”
