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Chapter

Nineteen

W est slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Kelby. He needed his focus on this morning’s spring scrimmage and not making love to his beautiful fiancée. He was glad they had finally settled on a date. One week from today, he would become a married man.

As he showered and then shaved, he thought how his life wouldn’t be his own anymore.

As a single adult, he hadn’t needed to answer to anyone.

He had made all his own decisions, be they on the playing field to the world of finance.

From now on, he would always be thinking about himself as one-half of a couple.

He and Kelby would be Team Sutherland for life.

They would make decisions together which would affect both small and large outcomes.

They would discuss trivial things, such as what to have for dinner.

That would lead to bigger things, such as where to go on vacation.

Finally, they would stand as a couple when making decisions about building their forever home and figuring out how many children to produce.

While West had liked being on his own for this long, he saw the definite advantages of being a united pair, standing with the woman he loved.

He decided this would be the next topic he took up with Dr. Linda during their next weekly session.

He’d already spoken to his therapist at length about marrying Kelby, and now he could share they had a date and were ready to move forward.

He dressed in the bathroom and then slipped quietly through the house.

Coffee would be waiting in the coaching offices.

Not the best brew in town, but the caffeine would give him the proper zing.

As for eating, he didn’t want anything heavy sitting on his stomach, though he would stop for a box of donuts so the other coaches would have a treat to eat.

He grabbed an energy bar as he left, eating it in the truck on the way to the donut shop.

Once he had a dozen glazed donuts in a box, he headed to the high school’s fieldhouse, where the coaching offices were located.

Only one other car sat in the parking lot at a quarter till seven, and he bid Coach Markham good morning as the two men entered the fieldhouse together.

“You always were an early bird, West,” his old coach said, chuckling. “First in the mornings to practice and last to leave when things were done.”

“Well, someone had to turn out the lights,” he quipped.

They went to the conference room, where Coach Markham put on a pot of coffee to brew and West placed the donuts on the table. Somehow, his mentor seemed off to West. He moved a little slower this morning, and his coloring was ruddier than usual.

“You feeling all right, Coach?” he asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

“Didn’t sleep well last night. The older I get, the less I sleep,” Markham complained.

“And don’t give me that look. You’ll be in my shoes before you know it.

It’s funny. Life seems to move slowly, and then it picks up the tempo when you aren’t paying attention.

Suddenly, you have kids. Then they’ re gone from the house.

You notice more gray in your hair. You grunt when you sit and again when you stand.

The missus calls those my grumpy old man noises. ”

“You aren’t that old,” he protested.

“I’m sixty-eight, West. Many in the profession call it quits before now. I’m hoping to make it to seventy before I start collecting my retirement check.”

He couldn’t help but think about Big Jim Blackstone being felled by a stroke and passing when he was only sixty-two.

Other coaches began drifting in. Rand Jones appeared with a second box of glazed donuts, and all the donuts quickly disappeared. West avoided them, still feeling the nerves.

Rand pulled him aside. “Thanks for being here today. Coach Markham appreciates that.”

“It was good of you to turn out,” West said. “I know you’re still second-in-command, but you’ve got one foot out the door, headed to a new district and that cushy administrative job.”

Rand chuckled. “Yeah, right. Cushy doesn’t quite describe it.

I interned here at HHS, and it’s amazing the number of problems administrators deal with.

It’s not just kids acting up in class. It’s everything from petty theft to domestic violence to sexual abuse.

Even here in a little town like Hawthorne.

My advice? Keep your eyes open, West, as well as your heart.

I know you have a love of the game and kids, but don’t let any of them pull the wool over your eyes.

Be ready. Be open. Don’t judge. Listen when they need an ear. You’ll be fine.”

His teacher training had been long ago. It had been over a decade since he’d done his student teaching and earned his certification and his bachelor’s degree. He hoped he would get plenty of new teacher training before he set foot inside his classroom.

“Don’t worry,” Rand said, reading West’s mind.

“You’ll put in a good forty hours of new hire training before you meet the rest of the staff and do the usual staff development.

The actual teaching seems like a small part of things, what with all the meetings and trainings you’ll participate in.

Still, the best part of the day is when you’re with your kids, whether it’s in the classroom or on the gridiron. ”

“What subject are you teaching now?”

“Algebra I and II. The tutoring is straightforward, and the grading is easier than teachers who have to deal with essays. That is one thing I won’t miss when I become an assistant principal. The grading can be time consuming, as well inputting all the grades into your computer.”

Rand smiled. “Enough of that. You need to enjoy today for what it’s worth.”

“I plan to,” West said.

They joined the other coaches, who took seats around the conference table.

Coach Markham went over specifics of what he wished to see today in the controlled scrimmage.

He pointed out specific players who needed to be evaluated.

They would assign players to a depth chart after today’s play and while most of the starters would remain the same, West knew the staff would continue to watch players and make adjustments between now and the first game played, usually at the end of August. That’s one thing he would need to get used to again, the extreme heat and cold.

A third of NFL games were now played in indoor stadiums, and weather conditions no longer factored into the game.

The Hawthorne Hawks would take the field and play in the Texas heat, where temperatures on the field could easily be fifteen to twenty degrees hotter than in the stands.

As Coach Markham spoke, West still thought the coach was not firing on all pistons. He grimaced a few times and seemed to be a little short of breath. No one else on the coaching staff seemed to be concerned, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Markham dismissed them, and West already heard talk and laughter coming from the locker room as players had showed up and were dressing out for today’s scrimmage.

He got to the door and decided to turn back, catching Coach Markham rubbing the back of his neck, a worried look on his face.

West closed the door and returned to stand next to him.

“Coach, you don’t look so good to me. I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing the talent today, but I want you to get checked out.”

Frowning, the older man sharply said, “You don’t need to be telling me what to do, West Sutherland. It’s a privilege, me letting you stand on the sidelines today, not a right. I?—”

Markham paused, a funny look crossing his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Now,” West urged, not willing to be shut down.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired. Been putting in too many hours.” He rubbed the back of his neck again.

“Your neck hurts? Any other pains?” he pushed.

“A little. It sounds weird, but my jaw and teeth are aching all of a sudden. And that damned indigestion is roiling through me again. Why, I didn’t even have any coffee this morning because of it.”

“You’re also short of breath. I noticed while you were speaking. Sit down, Coach,” he said, gently guiding Markham to a seat and pulling out his cell.

“Who’re you calling?” Markham demanded, his voice weaker than usual.

“911, Coach. I think you’re having a heart attack.”

“I don’t have time for a heart attack.” Markham sucked in a breath. “Damn, the indigestion is getting worse.”

West made the call. He quickly related Coach Markham’s age and symptoms, telling the dispatcher that he believed a heart attack was in progress or about to happen. He listened, getting instructions from the operator, and then ended the call.

“Help is on the way, Coach,” he said. “Stay seated. Don’t eat or drink anything. Have you had any heart condition diagnosed before? Take nitroglycerin?”

“No,” Coach said, looking worried and a little confused.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

West rushed to the first aid dispensary and removed a bottle of aspirin. He shook out a few tablets in his hand and returned to the conference room, handing them to the older man.

“Slowly chew these,” he instructed. “Let’s stay calm. Breathe together.”

Rand Johnson poked in his head. “Coach, I—” His voice trailed off as he took in the situation and entered the room, closing the door behind him. “What can I do?”

Coach Markham looked at Rand and back to West. “You’re going to take over the scrimmage for me, West,” he said calmly. “I don’t want it cancelled over a little heartburn.”

West’s gaze connected with Rand’s, and he shook his head slightly. Both men knew this wasn’t a case of heartburn.

“Are you sure you don’t want Rand to do that, Coach?” he asked. “I’d like to come to the hospital with you.”