They caught the doctor making his rounds, and while Sarah spoke to him, her uncle wheeled Frank down the hall to the visitor’s section at the end of the hallway.
When Sarah joined them a few minutes later, Uncle Morris was relating a play-by-play of the basketball game.
“You should have seen those boys, Frank,” Morris said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sarah is really whipping the team into shape.”
Frank glanced from his brother to his daughter. Her own frustration had left, as it always did when she actually saw her father. Anger was always easier in the abstract. When she saw Frank sitting hunched in his wheelchair, his body a mockery of his former strength, his face loose and slack-jawed, sympathy easily erased any negative emotion she could have felt.
She thought of what Uncle Morris had said. Clung to it, in fact. She knew her father wasn’t demonstrative. Even Marilee, his favorite, had complained about it.
Maybe Uncle Morris was right. Maybe her father did miss her. Maybe he simply didn’t know how to show it.
She gave her father the benefit of the doubt and a careful smile.
Had Sarah imagined his eyes lighting up? Did the lift of one side of his mouth represent a smile? Then he raised his hand a fraction and moved it toward Sarah.
The joy she felt at that simple movement was almost out of proportion to the action.
She took his hand and held it in her own. He nodded and Sarah felt, for the first time, that her visit was worthwhile.
“I…I…for…” He struggled to formulate the words and Sarah leaned forward, almost willing the sounds past his immobile lips. Then his fingers tightened on hers.
Sarah squeezed back. “It’s okay, Dad. It will come. The doctor is really pleased with your progress.” And so was she. This was the most personal response she had gotten from him since his stroke. “Once you’re transferred to Millars Crossing I can visit you more often.”
Frank nodded, his eyes on Sarah.
All the tension of the past eight years seemed to loosen. Would she and her father get a second chance at some kind of relationship? The thought settled and for the first time since she had run away from Millars Crossing, tears in her eyes, angry and hurt with her father, missing her beloved Logan, she felt as if maybe something good was going to come out of this all.
Yes, he wasn’t the best father, but they were all each other had. Half of the family was gone now. Surely they could find a way to reconcile?
Morris and Sarah talked for a while, and for the rest of their visit Frank kept his hand in Sarah’s, his eyes on hers.
When she hugged him goodbye, he gave her the semblance of a smile.
The nurses were stringing tinsel along the nurses’ station as Morris and Sarah left. Christmas was creeping up on them, Sarah realized. She hadn’t been paying attention to the season.
One nurse called out a greeting and Sarah waved back, her heart lighter than when she had arrived at the hospital.
“Your dad seemed interested in your basketball team when I told him you were coaching,” Morris said as he held the door of the ward open for Sarah.
“I’m surprised.”
“And how is the team accepting you?”
“Good. It’s a struggle with some of them. But overall the team is doing well. I just wish Billy would get his head in the game. It’s almost like he’s blowing this big chance.”
“Billy has other fish to fry I’m afraid.” Morris sighed. “Billy’s marks haven’t been stellar which creates other problems for me in terms of his playing on the team.”
Sarah rubbed her temple with her forefinger. “So you’re saying his place on the team might be in jeopardy?”
“Emphasis on might. He still has time. I don’t want Billy to be cut, but he needs to focus.” Morris let the sentence trail off as the elevator arrived.
Sarah stepped inside and stood beside an intern frowning at an iPad he was holding. “I need that boy on the team regardless of his attitude to me. He’s a star player.”
“I’m surprised you stick up for him. His brother, Logan, has been pushing me to get you replaced spurred by complaints from Billy.”
His words stung. Though she and Logan weren’t communicating, hadn’t dated, the fact that he was actively seeking to have her removed hurt.
The elevator stopped and the intern got out and they were alone again. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t let Billy go.” She couldn’t help remember the blaze of conviction in Logan’s eyes when he had spoken of his desire to get Billy out of Millars Crossing.
“Well, we’re not sure how to proceed with him.”
The elevator felt suddenly claustrophobic as Sarah sifted through her options. She had to find a way to make Billy realize what he was giving up by his thoughtless rebelliousness.
“I could talk to him,” Sarah said.
“That would help.”
Sarah wasn’t sure it would. Billy seemed to have his own secrets. But she didn’t want him to miss out on a good opportunity because he was distracted by them.
She thought of Logan and his campaign to get rid of her. She wished he would realize they were on the same side in this matter.
Chapter Five
“Block out. Block out,” Sarah called, and bodies realigned themselves on the basketball court, shoes squeaking out a protest on the wooden floor at the sudden shifts and spins as the team members maneuvered to get into position.
The final game of this weekend tournament was only five minutes away from being won by a team with less experience, shorter players, and, even more important, a male coach.
Sarah knew she should be watching the boys as they fought back. But, as if of their own will, her eyes veered right and found him.
Logan sat leaning forward, his clasped hands pressed against a stubbled chin. He must have come straight to the game after work.
Then, as if he sensed her scrutiny, he stared directly at her. But despite the knowledge that he was trying to get rid of her, she saw his gaze soften, his mouth curve in a faint smile.
She jerked her glance away in time to see a shot from the opposing team bounce off the rim. Billy Carleton hooked the ball out of the air and charged down the court.
She had to block out the noise of the home team spectators, stop thinking of the aunts and uncles and cousins who were probably in attendance tonight, stop thinking of Logan hovering on the sidelines.
“Pop Tart! Pop Tart!” she called out, reminding Billy of the play they had gone over again and again. Now was the time for his hook shot.
Then, inexplicably, he stopped, dribbling, his eyes grazing over the court. Was he daydreaming?
“Cut your head in,” Sarah shouted out her frustration.
But in the split second Billy had taken to judge the play, an opponent had stripped the ball from him and run down the court to score on the Voyageurs’ sleeping defense.
When Billy mouthed an obscenity, Sarah signaled the referee for a time-out.
Sarah shut out the jeers of the visiting spectators, ignored the groans and complaints of the home team boosters and directed her complete focus on the very upset high school boys gathered around her.
Sarah wasn’t short, but most of these boys topped her height by almost a head. “We practice plays for a reason,” she said, quietly but intently, looking around the circle. “We had these boys at the beginning of the game and then we lost momentum.” She tried to think of all the things her own coach would tell them when her team was down, which words would make the connection, make the difference. She wished she could tell the team that she had more to prove tonight than they did.