The Perfect Disaster Read online

  This was why football had become his sanctuary. The sides were clear. You had your team, and you opposed the other. Your teammates were everything. They defended you. You blocked for them. And when everyone worked together, plays went exactly right. And you won.

  Then football had failed him. And so had love. Or whatever had stood in for love. He wasn’t sure what Stephanie had represented. So he’d flailed about.

  Until Ginny.

  For the first time in years, he’d felt that connection again. Of being on a team. Of knowing somebody always had your back.

  Until she didn’t.

  He was overreacting, and he knew it. But he could no longer relax around her. She’d become another disapproving voice. Like his students’ parents. Like his own parents. Like Steph.

  And here Ginny was, barreling toward him after working with her students. He had to brace himself. He couldn’t avoid her forever, so he might as well face it now.

  He stood just inside his office door, his athletic bag over his shoulder.

  “Can I help you?” The chill coming off of him could have frozen the ice caps. He knew it, but there was no way to warm up how he felt.

  Ginny’s eyes were overly bright, as if she was forcing herself to look normal.

  She plunged straight in. “I just wanted to say that I was sorry for calling out suggestions to the team that I knew were against what you wanted,” she said. “I should’ve known that your strategy was important to you. Of all people, I should have known.”

  Well, she understood at least. His jaw clamped down, and his hand tightly gripped the strap of his bag.

  She blundered on. “I heard you had a meeting with some of the parents. How did that go?”

  “Not so great.” He didn’t really want to rehash it all. “Excuse me.” He tried to brush past her to leave his office.

  But Ginny stepped in front of him to block his path. “Now, wait a minute. You can’t blame me for parents being upset at you for very clearly preventing a player from using his potential.”

  “Is that what you think? That I’m preventing his potential?”

  “I do,” she said. “And now you’re acting like I am the devil incarnate. Just because I disagree with how you’re coaching your team.”

  Maybe she didn’t get it.

  “You sound like everyone else, like I’m not worthy.” He tried to keep his voice straight, but there was a defeated note in it anyway.

  Ginny noticed. “But I don’t think that.” She hesitated. “And I’m definitely not her.”

  So she knew about Steph. She’d probably watched all the humiliating footage. He’d never, ever escape it. It would live on the Internet forever.

  His head felt hollow, and his voice sounded foreign to him. “It feels like history repeating itself. The one good player. The team asking him to carry them. Him failing. Him failing at every single thing.”

  “Carter, I’m not—” Ginny said, but he interrupted her.

  “I study these kids. I know how far they can throw. How fast they can run. I know when they are feeling tired or unsure or just plain defeated. There’s more to a team than trying to make one kid a hero.”

  Ginny’s defiant stare faltered. “I get that.”

  “But you yelled at Toby to do the opposite of what I told him.” He tried to move around her again.

  But she still stood in his way. “I want to understand. What you’re saying is that because I challenged your coaching, that that makes me the sort of woman who will hurt you publicly like your ex-girlfriend did? That’s what you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. He couldn’t keep it all straight in his head. “Maybe.”

  She let out a long breath. “Then I guess we’re done here.” She stepped aside to let him pass.

  At first, he didn’t move. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was speaking from some hurt, angry place, and it had nothing to do with Ginny.

  But it was done now. Anything else they had to say would just hurt each other more.

  So he walked away.

  Chapter 16

  All afternoon, Ginny couldn’t get their argument out of her head. Carter had sounded so disillusioned. He wasn’t making sense. He was layering his old trauma on top of his current situation.

  She’d seen it plenty. She was a professional who managed traumatized people every day. They relived the bad stuff over and over until it became a part of every moment of their lives. It discolored every experience and tainted every decision.

  The town had raised money to bring Ginny to Applebottom. They felt like she had answers that they needed. They hoped that she could help fix balance issues, teach strategies, improve skills, all the way from walking in a straight line to managing a school day without exploding in anger.

  But right now, she was failing. Because it seemed to her that the person who needed her most on this campus was the one she cared for above all others—and so far, she hadn’t helped him at all.

  The football game that night didn’t appeal to her whatsoever. It was an away game, and she certainly didn’t need to return to the site of the arguments with Carter. It seemed best to just stay away until she figured out what to do.

  The next morning dawned cold but clear, so Ginny bundled up and took Roscoe for a brisk walk through the park. Despite the popularity of the playground that morning, with children running in every direction, Roscoe responded to all her commands. He sat. He came when called. He even managed to stay when a small child with a peanut butter sandwich got tantalizingly close.

  Ginny was so proud of him.

  As they walked toward home, she decided to push herself. If she was going to ask Carter to be brave, she would have to be, too.

  She was going back to Town Square. Roscoe was having a good day, and it was time to try.

  As they turned the corner onto the square, Ginny was amused to see that the battle for the appropriateness of early Christmas decorations was being waged among the shops.

  The nail and facial spa was in full Christmas glory, with windows decked in red and gold and signs for gift cards and holiday pampering.

  Next door, Betty at Tea for Two had taped up a hand-lettered sign that said rather strongly that they would not be decorating for Christmas until after the Thanksgiving turkey had been carved.

  Ginny pictured tiny chic Betty in her pink jogging suit with her matching white poodle sticking her nose in the air when she saw the Christmas decor on the spa.

  Delilah’s doggy bakery had begun its Christmas transformation, with fluffy snow in the corners of the window, and the outline of Seasons Greetings ready to be filled in on the window panes. Thankfully, Nothing but a Pound Dog had its door closed today against the chill. As beautifully as Roscoe was ambling down the street with her direction, she wasn’t sure she could trust him inside the bakery again. Not yet.

  Better to be cautiously brave than foolhardy.

  Next door, the florist was still in full-blown autumn. This made sense, since they would be providing centerpieces for Thanksgiving dinners for another couple of weeks. A gorgeous explosion of brown twigs and red leaves and gold accents filled their window.

  Ginny checked out the pie shop, which was firmly in the no-Christmas camp. It did not have a snarky note like Betty’s tea shop, but the sign in the window about holiday orders had a big broad stroke underneath the word Thanksgiving, suggesting that no one need ask about Christmas yet.

  Ginny smiled to herself. It was glorious to live in a town where the biggest argument was about the timing of the Christmas decor.

  Other than, maybe, how to handle the football team’s quarterback.

  She and Roscoe hit their first snag in the slow careful walk around Town Square when a woman left the pie shop holding an amazingly aromatic meat pie. Roscoe came to a halt, nose in the air.

  “Steady, boy,” Ginny said, firmly grasping his collar.

  She reached into the treat bag at her waist to withdraw one of his training snacks. When she placed it u
nder his nose, Roscoe seemed placated and ate the snack willingly.

  Ginny sighed in relief as the woman disappeared down the walk, taking her pie with her.

  Ginny spotted Gertrude and Maude through the plate-glass window of the shop, looking out at her.

  This was her big moment. She fetched another treat from her bag. Ginny reached down to pet Roscoe on the head. “Let’s do this, puppy dog.” She showed him the new treat. “Roscoe, sit.”

  Roscoe’s oversized haunches landed on the pavement. She stroked his ears.

  “Good dog,” she said and fed him the treat. “What a good dog.”

  Maude opened the door and poked her head out. “I can’t believe how well he’s doing!” she said. “Why don’t you tie him to the bike rack there and come inside a minute? I’ve got a piece of Dutch apple pie with your name on it.”

  Ginny hesitated. Leaving Roscoe even for a moment seemed like a risk. But then, Maude had accidentally thrown down the gauntlet. If Roscoe couldn’t wait a couple minutes like any other dog, maybe she hadn’t done as good a job as she was trying to prove.

  “Just give me a minute to secure him,” she said.

  “I’ll heat it up for you,” Maude said.

  Ginny kneeled down in front of Roscoe. “Okay, here’s how it is,” she whispered. “I’ve got a blanket and a chew bone. Can you do this for me?”

  Roscoe licked her nose. Good enough.

  Ginny unrolled the blanket from the tie on her backpack and made a neat little nest on the ground. She tested the bicycle rack and ensured that it was securely bolted to the concrete. It seemed sturdy.

  She unhitched the leash from her harness and wrapped it around the rack several times before fastening it down. She withdrew a thick rawhide bone for Roscoe and set it on the blanket.

  Roscoe immediately plopped down and began gnawing on the bone. He seemed all right.

  Ginny stood up. “Good dog, Roscoe.”

  She would eat the pie, chat up the ladies, and get out as quickly as she could. And then she would have proven her point.

  The shop was warm and full of amazing smells. Ginny caught a whiff of apple, spice, berries, pumpkin, and mincemeat. She realized how much she had run around and walked with Roscoe all morning without eating. This would be amazing.

  Maude placed a warm slice of pie on the counter in front of a stool. It looked like a magazine worthy slice, from the expertly crimped crust edge to the perfectly placed mound of ice cream.

  Ginny sat down rather deliriously. Maude leaned against the counter across from her, brushing aside a nonexistent crumb.

  Her dark eyes twinkled as she watched Ginny devour the first few bites of pie. “I like a girl who can eat,” she said.

  Gertrude loaded a chocolate pie inside the glass case and slid the door closed. “I expect that’s because you want everyone to pack on the same extra pounds you have,” Gertrude said.

  Ginny’s fork froze in mid-air. Was Gertrude always this nasty?

  But Maude just laughed. “Gertie, if you had any more padding you wouldn’t be able to fit behind the counter.”

  So this was just how they communicated. Ginny took another bite and observed both of them. Neither of them were large women by any stretch. Gertrude was somewhere in her late sixties or early seventies. Her hair was white and puffy around her perpetually frowning face. Her apron was streaked with pie filling and caked with flour.

  Maude, on the other hand, looked crisp in her perfect white apron that set off the golden tones of her dark skin. She had a kindly look of a favorite grandmother, but Ginny guessed she was probably about ten years younger than Gertrude.

  Gertrude picked up a pie with a fluffy white meringue and lifted it by the palm as if considering whether or not to aim it at Maude’s face.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Maude said.

  “And why not?”

  “Because that’s the lemon meringue you make every morning in case Alfred Felmont comes by for a slice.”

  Gertrude sniffed and lowered the pie. “So what if it is.”

  “He’s not interested in your ugly mug.”

  Gertrude lifted it again. “Might be worth it today.”

  Never a dull moment around here.

  They remained poised in their standoff another few seconds, then Maude shook her head and picked up a rag. She wiped at the counter as if it wasn’t already cleaner than a tea kettle.

  Gertrude set the pie on the counter. “Maude, you know you dragged that poor girl in here to ask her twenty questions about whatever the hell happened at the football game last week. So just get to it.”

  Maude sighed. “Nobody ever accused Gertie of being subtle.”

  “It’s Gertrude. You’d think after thirty years you’d get it right.”

  “You’d think after thirty years, you’d realize I’m never gonna call you Gertrude.”

  The argument rolled off their tongues like a well-polished stone, repeated over the years until all the rough edges were gone. Funny how some people spoke to each other like this all the time. From what Ginny understood, these two were the grand dames of Applebottom.

  And they wanted to know about her situation with Carter. As if she could explain it.

  Gertrude popped the first hard question. “So what in the world caused Carter to go off on you in front of everybody? Has he lost his mind?”

  Ginny slid her fork across the empty plate, trying to scrounge up any last crumbs. “Maybe I just know a little too much about football.”

  Even with her eyes down, she didn’t miss the glance that passed between Gertrude and Maude.

  Now they both leaned against the counter.

  “Let me get this straight,” Gertrude said. “Carter went ballistic on you in front of everybody over football?”

  “Right,” Ginny said.

  “Got to be more to it than that,” Maude said.

  Ginny stared at her plate. “I wasn’t loyal.”

  Maude stood up abruptly. “Loyalty! That boy doesn’t have enough years on his bones to know anything about loyalty. You two have had what? Two dates? I’m calling his mother.”

  “Can it, Maude,” Gertrude said. “His mama ain’t from Applebottom.”

  “She’s from Branson, and that’s close enough. It’s Missouri. I want to give her a call.”

  “Please don’t,” Ginny said, feeling all of fourteen years old. “He’s an adult man.”

  “Then he needs to behave like one,” Maude said. “You don’t go talking down to a lady who’s taken an interest in your occupation. It’s not seemly. And if you do find yourself crossways with her over an issue, you certainly don’t hoot and holler in public during the Homecoming game. That’s when all of Applebottom, past and present, are supposed to come together.”

  Gertrude turned the pie around and around on the counter, as if examining the meringue for flaws. “Just listen to yourself, Maude. You’re going off like a preacher during Lent. Ginny here has him figured out. He expected more from her. I’m telling you, he’s still got a hold on him from that city girl.”

  “I’m a city girl,” Ginny said. “Seattle born and raised. Then Chicago. This is my first small town.”

  Maude tapped the counter in front of Ginny. “And you’ve fit in just fine. We haven’t heard a negative word about you since you arrived. Well, other than that dog. You got all the mamas in town praising your name. Why Jason’s mama was in here just yesterday, and said that he was behaving like a normal kid for the first time in his sixteen years. Did you know that woman hasn’t had a moment’s peace in her life since that boy was two years old?”

  Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes. “That’s good to know,” she said. “He’s been doing really great.”

  Maude squeezed Ginny’s wrist. “Two months,” she said. “Two months you’ve been here, and you got Jason to think about things before he explodes. You got Delilah’s grandson running on the playground again. He wouldn’t do that for years, afraid of falling down. And we ourselves saw litt
le Amy Eaton at Annabelle’s Cafe, using a spoon rather than her fingers.”

  Gertrude nodded. “Seems to me that if anybody’s going to help Carter, it’s going to be you. Don’t you let a little bit of anger set you off the path.”

  Maude picked up the plate and fork and turned to set it in a dish basin behind the counter. “We won’t call his mama. We expect you to get in there and help him out.”

  “He helped you with that brute dog,” Gertrude said. “It’s time for you to use that big city expertise, and help him right back.”

  Ginny wasn’t sure she could do that. But looking out the window and seeing Roscoe still lying in his blanket nest chewing on a bone, she realized that they were right.

  She owed it to him to try.

  Chapter 17

  Ginny spent the rest of the weekend going through everything she knew about self-esteem in both adolescents and adults. It wasn’t her area of expertise. She had always focused on occupational therapy in kids. But so much of what they practiced in children could easily be scaled up for adults.

  The trouble was, did she know Carter well enough to do anything to help? And how would her efforts be received? He might be insulted by them. Or he could just simply blow them off.

  She wound up making two separate trips to Branson. No doubt half the town was watching her every move. She couldn’t count on Applebottom’s attention span being short enough to forget about the fight between the new therapist and the football coach, even if it had been a week ago. Although looking at the rather simple items she had bought, probably no one would be able to put together the ideas that Ginny had for Carter.

  She needed an ally over at the high school to help her pull all this off. Preferably someone with keys to every room.

  The trouble was, each school had its own set. There weren’t many people who could get into any location in the high school, who also came over to the elementary where she could forge an alliance.

  When Ginny got to work Monday morning, she stopped by the front desk to talk to Mrs. Humphries. If anyone would know who could get into Carter’s office, it would be her.