Page 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHOICES

EMMA

A fter changing into clothing that I can coach soccer in, I eat a quick breakfast and head to the field where some of the girls and their families have already started to gather. I’m surprised to find Mr. and Mrs. Owens setting up chairs on the sidelines and saving space for what appears to be several others.

“Coach Mitchell,” Mrs. Owens greets me with a wide smile, “a beautiful morning for soccer, isn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am, it sure is.” She’s come to every game I’ve coached and always sits with the Hutchinson family. I mask my confusion as best I can, hoping she’ll fill in the gaps and explain her presence on her own.

“I told you,” she says in a soft tone like I’ve never heard from her before, eyes straying to the parking lot where Jax is helping his girls out of the car. “They’re family.”

“Care to fill me in?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. When Mrs. Owens turns her gaze back to me, she’s not the hardened principal whose word is law, but someone with years of hurt and emotion in her eyes.

“I know you know a thing or two about burned bridges, Ms. Mitchell.”

“Yes ma’am, I do,” Mrs. Owens and I have talked on more than one occasion about my own family history; my biological mother’s attempt to use my name and relative fame to her own advantage, the boundaries I’ve established to protect myself and my sister…and our dad. “It’s hard when you don’t have a say about the bridge burning.”

“Yes it is. When my daughter left, I asked myself over and over again what I could have done differently, but sometimes there are no answers to those questions.” Mrs. Owens’ eyes stray behind me and she holds a hand up, calling out, “Claire! Ben! We have room for you.”

The Hutchinsons greet Mrs. Owens with hugs before setting up their own chairs along the sidelines. I stand for a moment feeling out of place and looking for a good chance to slip away when Mrs. Owens stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad my girls have you.”

“ Your girls, ma’am?”

“So am I,” Mrs. Hutchison sidles up and slips an arm around my shoulders, putting an end to the conversation with Mrs. Owens, but leaving me with more than a few questions, “and I’m delighted that you’re joining us for Thanksgiving. If she doesn’t already have plans, please feel free to invite your sister to join us, as well. I’d hate to think she’ll be spending the day alone.”

“I’ll let her know. Thank you Mrs. Hutchinson.”

“Oh honey, please, call me Claire. Now, do you have a favorite dish? Or maybe a recipe you’d like to make and share? It’s not a requirement, but I thought I’d ask.”

“I make a mean green bean casserole,” I reply.

“Is that the one you made for our last school potluck?” Mrs. Owens asks, smiling more than I’ve ever seen from her as I nod. “Then you must bring it. Claire, you’ve never had anything like it…” The two women leave me standing dumbfounded as Jax approaches with the girls who both greet me with warm hugs as their dad watches on, some lingering awkwardness between us from this morning. He looks side to side, seeming to assess our surroundings before leaning in and pressing a soft, quick kiss to my cheek.

“Okay girls,” I move toward the field in a daze. “Let’s get ready for kiss off. Kick. Kick off.”

Our last game of the season is an absolute blast. To my surprise, Kelsey walks away with a clean sheet, not allowing a single goal. Ever since our scrimmage when Jax put her in goal, she’s been working on covering the position and is no longer afraid of the ball coming toward her. Mackenzie has one goal and two assists to her name, and we walk away with three wins on the year, which is more than I could have hoped for when I stepped in to coach.

The girls gather around with their snacks and sports drinks, celebrating the end of the season and parents snap pictures of the team. I’m a little wary to stand for pictures, not knowing where they might show up on the internet later today, but I stand for pictures, proudly, with my team.

“Congratulations, coach.” Jax approaches as the rest of the parents gather their kids and leave the field. He offers me a handshake, that I return with a laugh. Once the other parents and kids are gone and I’m left standing with the Hutchinsons, Jax snakes an arm around my waist, and I wrap my own arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And, you’re welcome.”

“For what?!” I laugh as we walk toward his gathered family.

“For putting Kelsey in goal during the scrimmage and giving her the confidence she needed to try again.”

“Fine,” I kiss his cheek again. “You can have the credit for that.”

“Coach!” The Hutchinsons exclaim, almost in unison as Jax and I approach their gathering. “What a game!”

“Join us for lunch?” Mrs. Hutchinson – Claire – asks.

“Or,” Jax, arm still around my waist, whispers in my ear. “Join me for lunch.”

“That’s a tempting offer Jax, but I have a book fair coming up at school and need to get things ready for that. I have books that need to be ordered for the library, and…”

“You can do that Monday,” heat floods my cheeks when I look up and realize that the sing-song voice those words came from is that of my – usually hard as nails – principal.

“Thanks Mrs. O,” Jax turns his face into my neck with a laugh before addressing me again. “But if you’d rather not, I understand.”

“Why don’t you, and the girls, come to my place for lunch? Usually I body double with Molly while I’m working, but if you and the girls come, maybe bring books to read or homework, or whatever, I could…” I stop mid-thought, noticing that Jax’s expression has changed to one of…amusement. “Never mind. I’ll go with you to lunch.”

“Emma,” Jax pulls away, eyebrows furrowed as he watches me. “I’d love to come have lunch with you and help you with whatever you need.”

“That’s the thing, Jax, I just sort of…need you to be there.”

“Okay.” He smiles. All traces of amusement are gone now. “I’ll come and – what did you call it?”

“Body doubling.”

“Let’s do it.”

My doorbell rings and I open the door to Jax and his girls, arms laden with bags from the nearby deli.

“What’s all this?”

“Lunch!” Alice exclaims as they come inside and I point them toward the kitchen. I take out plates and silverware while Jax unpacks the bags of deli sandwiches, salads, and fruit.

“I hope iced tea is okay?” There are six different bottles of various iced teas on my counter, and I shouldn’t be surprised based on the state of this man’s fridge. “Sweet, unsweet, green, black, flavored and unflavored. Take your pick.”

“Green, please.”

“As you wish,” he passes me the green tea, fingers briefly brushing mine. “And I wasn’t sure about sandwiches so I got ham, turkey, veggie, roast beef, and this greek thing with hummus.”

“Greek thing, please.” One bite tells me I made a fantastic choice as bright kalamata olives burst in my mouth, and garlicky hummus holds all the veggies in the wrap in place. The girls chose a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips that we share, and then gather around my table. Jax sits across from me at the small round table, with the girls between us. It’s been a while since I’ve had a full table, and while it makes me miss my own family, I do love having them here.

“So, tell me about this body doubling thing,” Jax says between bites of his sandwich.

“Basically it just means having someone work alongside you, not always on the same thing but sometimes. It helps motivate me to get a task done. Most of the time I’ll do a video call with my sister. Basically it’s a way to find motivation and establish some accountability.”

“So you’re okay if I’m helping Alice with her homework?”

“I am. More than anything I just need you here. Someone. Anyone really. But you’re here…” And there goes my mouth, faster than my brain can process the heat in my cheeks or the smile on Jax’s face.”

“In that case, I’m glad to be here.”

Once we’ve cleaned up from lunch, I gather my computer and folders for work and set up shop on the floor in front of my couch. Usually I would turn on music and something on tv, but with other people in the house I opt for silence. Jax sits at the kitchen table with Alice, working on homework, while Mackenzie sits in the nearby armchair with a book.

“My brain is too loud,” Alice says after a while, frustration in her voice as she drops her pencil on the table.

“What do you mean, kiddo?” I hear Jax ask.

“It’s so quiet in here and my brain is so loud. I can’t do it, Dad.”

“Hey Alice,” I turn around and get her attention. “Why don’t you come sit with me?”

She reminds me so much of myself at that age, before I knew or understood what ADHD was and how I cope with it. Makes me wonder…

“Alice, when you do homework at home, where do you like to sit?”

“Usually on the floor. Daddy sits on the couch behind me.”

“Is the TV usually on?”

“Sometimes. I watch Aunt Nelope and Uncle Jake.”

“Let’s try something.”

I turn on the television and put on American Sports Network and the post game show that Jake and Penelope are doing for the playoffs happens to be on. Then, with my phone on the floor between us, and Jax now on the couch behind us, I turn on some music, keeping the volume low. She puts her books and worksheet on the floor and lays on her belly, stretching her legs out behind her, and puts pen to paper and buckles down on her homework, a smile on her face as she breezes through one worksheet before moving on to the next.

Alice’s brain is too loud. Just like mine was. Just like mine is.

With Jax and Mackenzie behind us, reading their books, Alice and I make quick work of our tasks and before we know it her homework is done and ready to go back to school on Monday, and I’ve got new books ordered for the library, the Christmas book giveaway, and the book fair inventory spreadsheet organized and ready to go, along with a handout designed and ready to send home with all the kids on Monday.

“So, what are you,” Jax joins me in the kitchen to grab another of the many teas that he stocked my fridge with, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some kind of secret child psychologist?”

“Nope,” I shake my head ruefully. “Just an elementary school librarian who spent her childhood thinking there was something wrong with her. Turns out, it was undiagnosed ADHD.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he looks at me, and then something shifts in his gaze and he’s really looking at me. And the space I’m in. The organized clutter on my desk. The soft music playing from my phone, ambient noise from my computer. Alice was right, this room was too quiet. Which is why I produce my own noise in an attempt to quiet my brain. It’s a trick I learned in middle school when I couldn’t sit at the dining room table to do my homework. I worked better in the living room, surrounded by my family and whatever baseball or soccer game happened to be on TV at the time.

It helped.

It took me twenty more years for a diagnosis, but at least now I understand that there was nothing wrong with me. It’s just the way my brain is wired.

“You’re not just anything, Emma…” Jax’s voice is pitched low as he takes a step closer to me. “Don’t minimize the impact that you have on the lives of the people lucky enough to know you.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say beyond those two small words, which barely scratch the surface of the emotions swirling in my head. I don’t know what to do with compliments. Or kind words. They land in my brain and my brain tells me that the words are nothing but empty platitudes, even though I know that’s not true, the anxiety and sensitivity to rejection are a potent combination in my brain.

“What do you think about the rumors of a return for Emma Mitchell?” Alice’s episode of On the Field has ended, and American Sports Network’s Goaltending show is on next. “Will she or won’t she?”

A highlight reel of my career plays on the screen and Jax steps into the living room, reaching for the remote, but I stop him, morbid curiosity getting the better of me. Highlights from cup championships and international games lead to my last appearance with the National Team; I watch, detached, as I take a bad foul before getting up and playing again. And then I crumple to the field; the pain I experienced that night is unlike anything I’ve felt before or since.

“I don’t know if that’s the right question, Alison. The question is should she come back? At her age, with her history of injury…” the television clicks off and neither Jax or I have moved, but Mackenzie stands in the living room with the remote in her hand.

“What do they know?” She asks, watching her dad and I with an arched eyebrow and hand on her hip. “It’s not like they can choose for you.”

“She’s right, you know,” Jax sits down on the couch and pulls me down to join him after sending the girls into the backyard where my net is set up. “Only you can decide what comes next. Have you thought more about it?”

Only every night while I lay awake in bed and replay every goal I’ve ever scored. Every bad tackle I’ve ever made, every yellow card received. A few reds in my career, too. I think of every away game that took me away from home. And the thrill of walking into a sold out stadium, buzzing with energy. Chanting and singing and cheering from crowds that spur you on to win. The faces of every little girl reaching for a handshake or high five.

“I want to try again. My physical therapist says I’m ready and I’m choosing to believe my body is ready, even if my mind isn’t. Do it scared, right?”

“Right.” Jax is thoughtful for a moment, looking from me to the window and into the yard where the girls are playing. His hand at the back of his neck alerts me to what’s coming next. “As long as we’re doing things scared…would you like to go out with me again?”

“Yes.” I don’t hesitate with my answer. Nothing scares me about Jax, or a relationship with Jax, because unlike the other men I’ve dated, I trust Jax. And I know that he would never enter into any kind of relationship lightly. “I’d love to go out with you again.”

“My girls have expectations of what dating leads to,” Jax’s laugh lacks any trace of humor, “thanks to my siblings and their relationships. If we’re going to do this, Emma…”

“Jax, we can take things as slowly as you need to.”

Especially if I’m going to be playing again, how do I possibly go on the road knowing I’m leaving Jax behind. If I’m going to enter into a serious relationship with a man who has two children, what is my role in their life going to look like? What is the expectation for me with Alice and Mackenzie? What kind of expectations does Jax have?

And what happens if I sign that contract?

“Jax, I don’t have any expectations. I’ve been burned before. Previous relationships weren’t based on affection but proximity to a moderately ‘famous’” that word leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I say it, “name. Once I didn’t serve their purposes any longer, I was cast aside.”

By more than just the romantic partners in my life, but that’s a conversation for another time.

“I do have a question, though…” I fortify myself with a deep breath, not entirely sure how to approach this, and maybe I should have talked to Mom first, gotten some advice but I’ve come this far, so I plow ahead. “What am I? To you. To them. How do I fit?”

“I haven’t done this in a while, but I think that makes you my girlfriend. And as far as the girls are concerned, I’m okay with them knowing that. If you are. Emma, I don’t chase fame. I don’t care that you played for the national team, that you were pro, that doesn’t matter to me. I care about who you are as a person. I hope that I have made that clear, but if I haven’t, there you go.”

“Thanks Jax,” I chuckle, feeling slightly more relaxed than when this conversation started. “I knew that. But hearing it helps.”

“So we’re agreed? You’re my girlfriend?” Jax laughs as he asks the question. “I don’t think I’ve asked anyone that since high school.”

“Do you have a varsity jacket you could give me?” I ask, his laughter easting the tension in my shoulders. “Because if not, that might be a deal breaker.”

Jax and the girls spend the rest of the afternoon at my house, and once they’ve left I find myself deeply missing their company, and wondering what my life would look like if I gave this up.

On Monday morning, two things happen: first, I call Scott.

“Practices will start after Thanksgiving and will be at a practice facility in New Jersey at first and then move to LA the week before the match. ”

“And when do they need an answer from me?”

“January first. If you are going to play again, they need you to sign the contract by January first.”

After hanging up with Scott, and immediately adding those dates to the calendar in my kitchen and the calendar – with alerts – in my phone, I gather my things and drive to school for a meeting with Mrs. Owens.

I do it scared, laying it all out there for Mrs. Owens – from the start of practice, to the possibility of not coming back.

“That’s all of Christmas break,” Mrs. Owens replies, thoughtfully. “So that won’t be a problem, since we won’t be in school. And if you need to be gone for the other practices, we can find subs for the library.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging, Mrs. Owens, but I haven’t made my final decision yet. If I don’t come back…Mrs. O, I don’t want to leave these kids hanging.”

“You won’t, Emma. I’ll make sure that we keep doing Lunch with the Librarian, and all of the other wonderful things that you do for the kids here. Don’t you worry about that.”

“And if I sign the contract?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“Don’t you mean cross that bridge?”

“I said what I said,” if not for the small smile tugging at her lips, I’d be worried she’s angry with me. “Emma, you’re a smart woman, you know what’s best for you . Don’t let anyone try and make this decision for you, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” Making my way down the hall as children come in to start their school day, I’m stopped for hugs by Alice and Mackenzie who promise to stop by at lunchtime to inspect the book fair, and when they do, they make lists to take home to Jax. And when I pull into his driveway after school, and walk up the sidewalk to his front door, he opens it and greets me with a hug and my mind wanders to what it would be like to come home to him more often.