“I imagine you read about Mr. DeHaan’s heart attack?”
She was wondering where he was going with that but played along. “Yes. That’s too bad. Does he still coach?”
“He coaches the boys’ team now. Or did. And now we need a new coach.” Uncle Morris gave Sarah an expectant look. “Would you be interested?”
So this was where he was headed. “I don’t know anything about coaching a basketball team,” she protested. “Especially not a boys’ team.”
“Sarah, you were a star basketball player when you played here. I’ve been following your career in college basketball. I know how well you’ve done there. I won’t find anyone of your caliber locally. The team we’ve got is one of the best ones we’ve had in years. They have a real shot at the provincial title. It’s not going to happen if I don’t get a good coach for these boys. You could do the job.”
“Uncle Morris, coaching and playing are two different disciplines and they require two different approaches.”
“They’re a real good team and you know what that can do for some of these boys,” he said, as if she hadn’t voiced her protest. “Getting to the provincials could be their ticket to a college or university education. A chance to expand their horizons.”
Sarah knew exactly what basketball could do. It was thanks to her own scholarship her second year of college that she had been able to put herself through school without depending on her father’s help anymore. And the thought of being involved in a game she loved and had poured so much energy and emotion into did tantalize her. She tested the picture, trying it on for size, and for the first time since she came to Millars Crossing, she felt a trickle of excitement. “I might be interested.”
“Great, I can arrange for you to come later on next week.”
Her uncle’s earnest gaze made her smile. Uncle Morris was a curious combination of Uncle Ted’s gentleness and her father’s hard-nosed intensity. If he wanted her to coach the basketball team, he wasn’t going to stop until she said yes.
But the old Sarah, who would have agreed immediately, was buried under eight years of independent decision making and away from her father’s influence.
“I said might,” she reprimanded gently, surprised at her own temerity. “Give me some time to think about it.”
Uncle Morris looked momentarily taken aback, as if surprised at this new attribute of his niece, but then he smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t want to pressure you, but the season starts in a couple of weeks. The boys’ coach would have started practices and tryouts already. I want to make sure these very talented boys can get started as soon as possible.”
No pressure at all, thought Sarah. “I’ll let you know.”
She said goodbye and, as she was leaving, her cousin Janie appeared and grabbed her by the arm. “You’re coming to our place for lunch before you go to the hospital. Mom told me to make sure I drag you, pull you, whatever it takes.” Janie gave Sarah’s arm a tug as if to underline her threat.
“It won’t take dragging,” Sarah said. “I love your mom’s cooking.” It would be no hardship to spend some time at Uncle Ted and Aunt Tilly’s beautiful home.
“I noticed Logan talking to you. What did he want? What did he say?” Janie demanded as they walked toward the door of the church.
Sarah dismissed her questions and all six foot two of Logan with an abrupt wave of her hand. She did not want to talk. She still had to process the moment herself.
Chapter Four
Logan ran water over his grimy hands, wishing he could as easily remove Sarah from his mind.
When he had first seen her on the sidewalk in town, he thought he had imagined her. And when she spoke, she sounded as distant as she had the last time they had talked.
He hated hearing that tone and he hated that it could still elicit such a strong reaction. Sarah Westerveld had dropped out of his life and moved on. He had moved on.
Seeing Sarah in church wasn’t a surprise, but her veiled accusation that he had caused her father’s stroke was and still stung—partly because he felt guilty about it himself, but mostly because it came from her.
His hands stopped their ceaseless lathering as his mind flitted back to that truncated conversation in front of the coffee shop. He knew he should have been more diplomatic. He probably should have walked away instead of showing his hand by telling Frank to his face that he was going to buy Crane’s contract with Frank’s business. Whether Frank liked it or not. He knew that would get a reaction.
Didn’t know it would get that particular reaction.
“Are you coming?” his mother called out from the kitchen.
He dried his hands off on the towel, closed his mind to the memories, then joined his mother and brother just as Donna spooned some potatoes on her plate and handed the bowl to his younger brother, Billy, who immediately dug in.
Logan breathed deeply. When his father came back from that last day in court, after being acquitted of cheating his business partner, his mother had put the Bible away and they had never again prayed before meals. His father, never a strong man, was hurt by the case, but losing the contract with Westerveld Construction had broken him financially and mentally. He spent the last years of his life struggling to make ends meet. Finding jobs off the farm to make payments.
But after his father died, emptiness had overtaken Logan’s life. And when he found out that Frank Westerveld, who had canceled his father’s contract, had stopped going to church, Logan started attending again. Occasionally his mother and Billy would come along; more recently, Donna had been attending more regularly. Her friend Louise Kennerman had encouraged her to go. He’d slowly been making room for faith and God, though he wasn’t sure how to put it all together in his life.
“So we found out who our new basketball coach is going to be,” Billy said, wiping his mouth.
“And let me guess, you’re not impressed.” Logan gave his mother a quick wink. Billy hadn’t been impressed with the previous coach either. Logan guessed that even Michael Jordan would not have completely met with Billy’s approval.
“At least Mr. DeHaan was a guy.”
Logan frowned. “What you mean?”
“You heard me. Our new coach is a female. Some woman named Westerveld. What am I supposed to call a woman coach?”
“‘Coach’ would probably work,” Donna said.
Logan felt a trickle of premonition. “Are you saying your coach is Sarah Westerveld? When did you find this out?”
“At tryouts today. Mr. Westerveld came to the gym to introduce her. His niece.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Can you say nepotism?”
“I’m surprised you can, the way you’ve been studying.” Donna turned to Logan. “Can they do that? Can that Morris Westerveld just give his niece the job?”
“I don’t know how much say parents have in the process,” Logan said, trying to process this new and unwelcome piece of information. He thought Sarah was going to be leaving. “It’s not a paid position so there’s that.”
“The guys aren’t happy about a woman coach,” Billy grumbled.