Chapter 18
18
A few days later, Ella was standing in front of a glass door simply labeled Lawyer , conscious that Trently was, as always, watching her. She couldn’t believe she was back. She almost turned around and told Jake to forget it. But he squeezed her shoulder and the urge to flee subsided.
He was right. She needed to find some peace.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she pushed the door open, the blinds swinging slightly from side to side with the movement. The door shut behind them and she was aware of the rattling as their momentum settled.
Ella blinked as her pupils adjusted to the low light inside Sol Levy’s wood-paneled office. There was no pretentiousness in here – no highfalutin’ secretary, no gilt-framed art, no leather Chesterfield. Just Sol in his three-piece suit sitting at his big old mahogany desk with real leather inlay, framed by a bank of mahogany bookshelves crammed with leather-bound texts.
“Ella, how lovely to see you, my dear.”
Jake’s warmth behind her was welcome as the elderly lawyer peered at her over the top of his bifocals and half stood, acknowledging Jake with a nod. “Please, sit, both of you.”
He indicated the chairs opposite and they sat. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Levy,” Ella said.
Sol smiled at her. “I’m pleased you decided to come.” He reached down, opened a drawer and extracted a thick, cream-colored envelope. “I believe you’re after this.”
Ella took the envelope she’d refused two years earlier. She’d instructed Sol to shred it and was exceptionally grateful he hadn’t.
“Your mother came to me about a year before she died,” Sol said, giving Ella the background she hadn’t wanted to hear at the time. “She’d had a premonition she wasn’t going to be around for much longer.”
Ella looked up from the envelope, surprised at the information. Of course, the good folk of Trently had had a few premonitions of their own, none of which involved the rather pedestrian heart attack that had killed Rachel at fifty-three. They’d been expecting a much stickier end.
Lord knew there were any number of scorned women who hadn’t shed a tear when the town tramp had collapsed in her front yard and not been able to be revived.
Sol steepled his fingers and pursed his lips. “There are things in there she desperately wanted you to know.”
Ella nodded, slipping it into her handbag. “Thank you.”
“Your mother was a good woman, Ella,” he said gently. “She always had the time of day for me and that can’t be said for everybody, even if I am the only lawyer in town.”
The affection in the older man’s voice was palpable and Ella was reminded that despite the way the town had painted her, Rachel had always possessed an innate kindness. It had been an easy fact to forget growing up in a community that hadn’t cared about the finer points of Rachel’s character.
But Jake obviously hadn’t forgotten nor had Sol Levy.
“She liked you a lot,” Ella murmured.
She stood then and Jake and Sol followed. But she didn’t know what to do next. She wanted to leave but wanted to hear more about her mother even as she shied away from the emotional baggage of it all. So she just stood there feeling awkward AF until Jake placed his palm on the small of her back.
“I think we’ll be on our way now,” he said to Sol.
The lawyer nodded. “Of course. Nice seeing you both.”
Ella stood in front of the non-descript tombstone, her warm breath misting into the cold air. There was just a name and two dates. No lament. No words to usher Rachel’s spirit into the afterlife.
No flowers either.
All around them, neatly kept graves boasted vases of freshly cut blooms. Only weeds grew where Rachel lay.
Trently would probably think that was fitting. In fact, Ella wouldn’t have put it past the town to deliberately infect her mother’s final resting place with such ugliness.
Rachel, who’d always had an eye for beauty, would have hated it.
Ella fell to her knees and started yanking at the scrawny weeds, her movements agitated as she clamped down hard on the rising block of emotion threatening to blind and choke her. The ground was cold, her hands colder as she plucked at the ground.
“Hey,” Jake murmured, kneeling beside her, one hand on her back. He placed his other hand over hers, stilling the frantic movements. “Let me do this. Why don’t you read the letter?”
Ella rested back on her haunches and looked at him. “She’d hate them.”
“I know.” And he took over where she’d left off.
Ella watched him for a moment or two before she slowly opened her bag and located the cream envelope. She turned it over a few times before summoning the courage to open it.
The paper was beautiful – expensive and delicately perfumed – so very, very Rachel. But the shock of seeing her mother’s flowery handwriting again rocked Ella and she was gripped with a sudden sense of foreboding.
“You’re never going to know unless you read it.” He stopped what he was doing and looked at her with calm green eyes. “I’m right here.” Then he returned to the job, throwing another weed in the pile near his right knee.
With a heavy heart, Ella settled cross-legged on the grass in a patch of sunlight and started to read.
My Darling Ella,
I guess if you’re reading this then the prayers of every spoken-for woman in Trently have been answered. They’ve had their rosary beads and voodoo dolls out for a lot of years and it’s nice to know, for them at least, that persistence pays dividends.
Don’t be mad at them, darling. Or at me, for that matter. You’re a long time dead so life shouldn’t be wasted on things that you can’t change.
I know you don’t understand why I do what I do. It was so much easier, darling, when you were little and would look at me with those huge blue eyes of yours and say, “You look so pretty, Mommy,” and not care about the whys.
But then of course, you grew up and I couldn’t protect you from the truth. Nor Cam. Please know that if I could have, I would have. But gossip is rife in small towns and it was only ever going to be a matter of time.
I’m truly sorry, if I could do something else, be something else, I would. But the truth is, I’m good at what I do.
And I love it.
You’ve always made me so proud, darling, but I’m not like you. I didn’t have much schooling nor the brains or patience to work for someone else. I never really had any ambition other than falling in love and being loved and being surrounded by beautiful things.
It’s why you always gave me so much joy and why Cam continues to do so – you two are the most beautiful things I’ve ever done.
I’ve been lucky that men have loved me and allowed me to live in beauty. People in Trently can call it whatever they like – I know the truth.
I give love, darling – and what is more important than love?
Even the young boys, so cocky and full of bravado, leave this place knowing that. They arrive wanting only one thing but leave knowing how to love a woman – truly love her. How to touch her. How to read her. How to appreciate her.
I know that I’ve made you ashamed, but please, darling, don’t be ashamed on my behalf. I’m okay with what I do.
What I am.
Trently, I guess, will be breathing a sigh of relief knowing that I can now be relegated to the annals of history – the dark years when Rachel Lucas preyed on their men. For that I am sorry. I’ve always held my head up in this town and the thought that I will be judged harshly doesn’t sit easily. But, as I said earlier, time shouldn’t be wasted on things you can’t change.
It is my fervent wish that history will treat me kindly but even I’m not fool enough to believe that. I shall have to settle for being notorious – for that is better than slipping from this life without anyone ever having known you existed.
I’m sorry, my darling, that I’m not the Brady Bunch mother you and Cam yearned for and deserved. But I hope you know that I love you and that I’m happy you have the life now that you always wanted.
I know you will take good care of Cameron. He has perhaps suffered even more than you for what I am. I rejoice, knowing that you’ll finally be together.
Be happy, my darling. Remember, life is short. Your loving mother,
Rachel xxx
Ella wasn’t sure how long she stared at the letter after she finished. She was sad.
So very sad .
Jake finished weeding and plonked himself down next to Ella. “You okay?”
Ella handed him the letter and he read it without comment. When he finished, he folded it up and tugged her close, kissing her head. “Pragmatic to the end.”
She nodded and they sat in the patch of sunlight for a while longer.
“Back to Inverboro?” Jake asked eventually.
With a sudden blinding certainty, Ella shook her head. “Back to Levy’s.”
“Ella?” Sol rose to his feet, surprise at seeing her again so soon written across his face. “Is everything alright, dear?”
“It will be,” she said firmly. “I’d like to set up a Rachel Lucas University Scholarship for disadvantaged students at the high school.”
Ella couldn’t change the past but she could see to it that her mother wouldn’t slip from this life without anyone knowing she’d existed. Trently may want to forget Rachel Lucas – but they could all go to hell. She wasn’t rich but she could factor a couple of thousand dollars every year into her budget.
Sol smiled. “Good for you, Ella. Good for you.”
Deluca lost their first playoff game and were knocked out of the competition. After all the excitement of making the playoffs, it was a blow and the team was bitterly disappointed but Ella wasn’t. Her small, down-and-out, hard-luck school had made it all the way to the playoffs in their first year.
And , earlier that day, had scored themselves a ridiculously fancy written invitation to play Chiswick College the following Saturday.
They’d done it. They’d really done it.
The entire school community had notched up the first step in saving the school from the Education Department axe and, in the process, united as she’d never imagined possible. It was as if Deluca had gone into a chrysalis all broken and defeated and emerged a thing of beauty, cohesive and unified.
Sure, the last couple of weeks had been exhausting. Between the continued media interest, the intense training schedule and her sexy night times with Jake, there hadn’t been a lot of sleep going on. But Ella wouldn’t have traded them for anything even if the furor had been unwelcome and uncomfortable. Because she wasn’t the same person she’d been before her most private information had been bandied around as entertainment.
And that, as it turned out, had been a good thing.
Jake had been right – her anger had been holding her back and taking steps toward letting it go had been incredibly cathartic. Her trip to Trently had helped as had enrolling Cam and her into counseling. There was still a long road ahead but at last Ella felt as if she and Cam were on the right track.
More good news came in on Monday with an official from the NFL calling to talk about funding some practice clinics at Deluca. Several months ago, Ella would rather have burned the school to the ground, but today she felt a little trill of excitement at the possibilities.
And, sweetest of all, Donald Wiseman rang to – rather stiffly – inform her that with a host of new enrollments the district review panel no longer had Deluca on its closure list. It seemed that despite some families not wanting their children at the school, even more families did. The story of the little school that could had become a beacon of hope in an area that often ran a little short on that particular commodity and people wanted to be part of it.
Best of all, Donald had let her know that, with their expanded numbers, Deluca High would also qualify for two more teachers and a deputy principal.
So there was a lot to celebrate that night as they all gathered around Daisy and Iris’s dining table – the inside one given the freezing rain outside. The household of five had grown to seven with Jake and Simon being at the house more often than they weren’t. Add multiple four-legged residents and Miranda and Pete into the mix and it was a raucous affair.
Dinner – curry, of course – was accompanied by the low hum of Ella Fitzgerald and the louder hum of everyone laughing and talking, enjoying each other’s company. Watching Jake talking tarot with Iris, Ella realized that all the warmth and love at this table tonight was because of Rosie’s aunts.
They had opened up their perfectly happy, chain smoking, spinster existence twenty years ago to two small-town runaways without complaint.
A lump swelled in Ella’s throat. She’d been truly blessed.
“What?” Daisy asked, squinting suspicious eyes at Ella.
Ella laughed at the crotchety inquiry. “Nothing.”
“Nothing my ass,” she chortled. “What was that look about?”
Ella sighed. “I was just thinking how marvelous you and Iris are. You took us in, became our family.” She shrugged. “You gave us this amazing life.”
“Nonsense,” Daisy dismissed. “Our lives hadn’t begun until you girls came along.”
Iris nodded. “You are our life.”
Ella’s vision misted over and Jake’s hand squeezed her thigh under the table. “To urban families,” Rosie said, her eyes also bright as she picked up her red wine.
Everyone toasted then Cam and Miranda stood. “Can we go and watch some TV?” he asked.
“Sure,” Ella agreed. “Door open though, please.”
“And not too late,” Jake warned. “Early to bed for the next week. Miranda, I’m taking you home in an hour.”
“Yes, Coach,” they chorused, rolling their eyes in the way of teenagers the world over.
The adults watched them go. “They’re good together,” Iris murmured.
Nobody disagreed.
As dinner continued, reminiscing about the season took center place. “I’d just like to say at this juncture,” Simon said with a grin, “this whole thing was my idea.”
“So it was,” Ella agreed. She had no idea where they’d be now if it hadn’t been for Simon.
Rosie slung her arm around his shoulders. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”
“Definitely,” Ella agreed. “And for that I give you permission to do unspeakable things to my best friend.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ella, but I’m going to do unspeakable things to this woman whether you permit it or not.”
Ella lifted an eyebrow at Rosie. “I see your penchant for dominance is rubbing off?”
“What can I say?” Rosie sighed. “The man’s a quick study.”
The conversation soon turned to the game with Chiswick the following Saturday. The exclusive private school hosted the event at their state-of-the-art football field and they’d won this particular exhibition game for sixteen years straight.
And, as Jake had stated a few months ago, a public school had never beaten Chiswick in this arena.
“I managed to get hold of some footage of Chiswick’s last game.” Pete dropped the morsel into the conversation and everyone turned to stare at him.
“Have you seen it?” Jake asked.
He nodded. “The first ten minutes. They’re really good.”
“And?” Daisy demanded. “Did you bring it with you?”
Pete winked at her. “Of course.”
“Well don’t just sit there,” she bellowed. “Show us the damn thing.”
They adjourned to the living room, Pete casting the footage from his phone to the television. The vision was muffled and amateur but there were good close-ups of the action and Jake kept muttering, “This is gold,” as he watched the play.
“Well done, Pete,” he said at half-time as the person videoing obviously decided crowd shots and scenery would suffice until the game started again.
They used the break in play to analyze the game. “There’s some great stuff on there,” Simon said.
“Yep.” Jake nodded. “Pete and I will go over it in more detail tomorrow morning and with the team in the afternoon.”
“They look amazing,” Rosie commented.
“They do,” Jake agreed. “Chiswick are champions, no doubt. But the Demons have come from nowhere, with very little and made the playoffs which is not nothing. And we have something that they don’t. We have something to prove.”
Ella couldn’t dispute that but watching the game had put a real itch up her spine. Chiswick scared the bejesus out of her.
She turned to Jake. She loved him. He’d turned her entire life upside down and somehow in the process managed to turn it right around. But she wanted him to know that it was okay to be beaten by a superior team. That winning this one didn’t matter.
That they’d already proved themselves.
“Jake, this game… it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Deluca’s not under threat of closing and the team have exceeded all expectations. But these guys” – she tipped her head at the television – “they’re in a league of their own.”
A frown furrowed his forehead. “I got into this whole thing for the Chiswick game. It’s the end game. You need me to win it and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Ella blinked. He’d essentially been badgered into coaching.
“I’m just saying that… no one’s going to think less of you, or the Demons, if they lose this game.”
“ I’ll think less of me.”
Okay, he really wanted this. The guy who’d been happy drinking Coronas and flirting with women at his bar. Was this some kind of redemption for him, too? Maybe he needed the Demons to restore his reputation as much as they’d needed him to restore Deluca’s?
The thought set off a warm glow around her heart but still… expectation management seemed prudent.
“Look… I get it. I do,” she said. “But Chiswick is an exclusive boys’ educational facility. They obviously have the best equipment and coaches money can buy.”
“ You have the best coach money can buy,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re free, Jake.”
“What can I say?” He blasted her with his steely green gaze. “The school principal drives a hard bargain.”
Oh Lordy . Her body took that in an entirel y different way than it was intended considering how affronted he looked.
Ella cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say, is the boys have done their best and I don’t want them to get their hopes up too high. It’s alright to admit defeat, you know. There can even be honor in it.”
A shout on the video drew everyone’s attention to the television as the Chiswick College boys ran back onto the field. The person behind the camera said, “What do you think, Coach?” and swung around for a close-up of a man wearing a shirt that said Coach.
The shot was blurry and came slowly into focus.
“We’ve got this one in the bag,” the Chiswick coach said. “The opposition are a pack of limp dick, pansy-assed cry-babies that play like a bunch of girls. They might as well have their cheerleaders play the game for them. At least we’d have a bit of tits and ass action to look at.”
Everyone stared in horror at the screen. “Yeah,” Pete said sheepishly over the continuing tirade of abuse. “Thought I’d leave that bit to last. Tony Winchester’s son plays for Chiswick. He’s just scored the head coaching gig there.”
Ella stared at the face on the screen as it continued to mouth horrible obscenities about the opposition like they were brainless zombies and their cheerleaders like they were there for his sexual pleasure. A wave of disgust swept through her, heating her skin and flushing her face. She already detested the man for what he’d done to Trish but this tirade was turning her vision red.
“Forget what I just said.” She turned to Jake. “I want you to win. Not just win but I want you to crush that smarmy asshole into the dust. And then when he’s down, I want you to stomp on his neck so he can never utter another vile word.”
Grinning, Jake performed a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” she muttered and reached across to the table for the remote, flicking a button to switch it off.
Tony Winchester wasn’t welcome in their house.