Chapter 15
ANNIE – LATE SEPTEMBER
Mockingbirds and Grackles
The Bears played away at Indianapolis on Sunday, which meant Daddy and I were dealing with all the food for Sunshine Ranch, and all the other bits we do alongside the team, without Colton.
It’s better this way for my brother. Last season was hard for him: the uncertainty of Mama’s cancer, his twenty-four seven blackened mood over my “situation” for which he blamed himself, trying to be the wide receiver the Bears expect him to be, then being at the ranch as often as he could.
Now, it’s time for him to get back to football.
Not least because it’s Colton who silently keeps this whole place running, not that he’ll ever talk about money.
Our land was passed down through generations but all the work and upgrades here on the ranch couldn’t happen without my brother’s generosity.
I barely even got to watch the game on Sunday, though I saw enough to know that my brother and Omar were being blocked at every turn by the Indianapolis defense.
It was a scrappy, low scoring game. The Bears somehow won in the final seconds when Lamar threw a killer bullet pass to Tanner, who used his sheer size and power to get into the end zone.
But the thing I enjoyed more than anything was the way the guys celebrated that winning touchdown. I guess word spread quickly about Tanner’s run-in with our entire coop of hens because when he scored, every one of Bears’ offense celebrated by clucking around like chickens.
Not only was it hilarious but for me, it felt like an in. I haven’t been to a game so far this season and the FOMO is real.
Watching Tanner try to get thirty-odd chickens back in their coop might have been the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. And as deluded as it sounds, that celebration made me feel as if he wanted me to be there at the game, to give me another reason to laugh my boots off.
Whether he planned to or not, Tanner made me feel the way I tend to in his company – light, fluffy, brain-fogged in the best way. It was only a celebration but it meant something to me.
Now, though, it’s Monday night – the middle of the night, technically Tuesday morning – and I’m not laughing at all.
Nelson has been up all night with a roaring temperature and vomiting.
I’ve never seen him this poorly. It’s terrifying. And exhausting.
Mama always used to say that everything looked better in the daylight.
I’m hoping and praying she’s right as I watch the sky through the window slowly lighten to dawn.
Replacing the chirping of crickets that sounds ominous in the small hours with the brighter song of waking mockingbirds and grackles.
“How’s he doin’?” Daddy asks before the sun is up, standing in the doorway to my bedroom.
I check my watch. “He hasn’t been sick for a couple hours but his stomach must be empty.”
Daddy nods. “Coffee and toast for you, darlin’?”
“Yes, please.”
I’m not sure what my mama would have said or done differently if she was here and I know that even getting up and coming to offer me breakfast is Daddy’s way of showing he cares, but I really miss my mama.
As a kid when you’re sick you always want your mama. As an adult when your own kid is sick, you want your mama, too.
I press my lips to Nelson’s hair and slip out of bed. The smell of toast is like heaven, sanctity, the waving of the white flag on a horrendous night.
“You should cancel Betty today,” Daddy says, resting back against the countertop with a hot mug of coffee between his hands, wearing his usual ranch uniform of a checked shirt, big silver buckle and stonewash jeans. “The last thing you need is for the nanny to come down with stomach flu.”
“If that’s what it is. He could have rolled a toy in manure and put it in his mouth, honestly. I mean, that’s what I’m hoping for because we don’t need a bout of gastritis running through the ranch.”
“No, we don’t but best be on the safe side. Tell Betty we’ll pay her not to come today and I’ll tell Colton to stay away until we’re all clear.”
“What about college? I’m supposed to have a meeting about my dissertation ideas today, not that I have any ideas.”
“I’ll drive you and bring Nelson along with me, that way you’re nearby when he wants you but he can sleep on the ride and I’ll push him out for some fresh air while you’re in classes.”
I stare at the buttered toast on the plate Daddy offers me, willing the stinging in my eyes to dissipate. “You have work to do here.”
“Nothin’ that can’t wait. If your mama was here, she’d be putting you and our grandson first, so that’s what I’ll do in her stead.” He walks as swiftly as I’ve ever seen him move out to the porch. “And that’s the last I’ll hear about it now, Annie.”
This is rough on everyone. I am hard for everyone.
Rubbing my tired eyes roughly and raking my fingers through my tatted hair, I focus on the small things.
Message Betty to cancel. Pack a bag for Nelson.
Pack a bag for me. Tell Colton to stay in the city.
Tell Tanner not to come here tomorrow for my driving lesson – which is more necessary than ever because I need to pass my test. Think of something useful to say to my tutor about dissertation ideas.
The only darn reason I’ve opted for a dissertation is because it means two fewer classes a week in my schedule, so I can be more flexible for Nelson and to fit around Colton’s training. Which leads right back to… I really need to pass my road test.
At some point, I’d love to sleep, too.
Between my three classes, I see Daddy and Nelson.
Nelson hasn’t puked anymore, which is great, but he’s lethargic and sad.
I called the family doctor, who told me to give him sugary drinks and nothing else until his stomach settles, so he must be sugar crashing and starving.
My heart literally aches seeing him like this.
He’s my smiling, happy, cheeky baby, not sad.
The part of my major organ that isn’t breaking is beating hard for my daddy because there must be many, many other jobs he could be and should be doing today, but instead he’s pushing a poorly baby in a stroller around my campus, probably getting more funny looks than I do these days, and that’s going some.
By the time I sit down outside my tutor’s office, I’m wired and frantically searching my brain for any project idea, when I remember that I haven’t messaged Tanner yet to cancel our lesson tomorrow.
Me
Nice hen dance in the end zone yesterday, Tanner Pace. Clearly your time spent studying how they move paid off.
His reply is immediate, even though he should be in training or reviewing tape of last night’s game.
Tanner
I still smelled like their feces when I scored that touchdown.
Remarkably, my lips tip up, which in turn makes my eyes well, again. It turns out kindness is my kryptonite. His next message comes before I have a chance to reply.
Tanner
How’s Nelson? And how’re you doing, Annie Quinn?
The door to my tutor’s office opens and another student comes out looking a lot happier than I feel about my appointment.
Me
He hasn’t thrown up so far today. I guess Colton told you? I’m messaging to say you shouldn’t come to the ranch tomorrow. Better safe than sorry.
Tanner
How are you?
I take a long breath in and sigh it out.
Me
I’m just fine, Tanner Pace. Thanks for asking.
There are dots like he’s typing when my tutor appears, calling me.
Professor Banks, in complete contrast to me, looks smart and clean and smells of a fine scent. Her hair is rolled back into a bun and she has perfectly painted lips.
“Take a seat, Annie,” she says, gesturing to the chair opposite her own at her immaculately clear desk. “It’s lovely to see you.”
This is nothing like how my own office would look if I were an academic.
My small desk at home is cluttered with Post-it notes, all colors of gel pens, opened books, scrunched-up doodled paper, or neatly stacked paper with coffee mug stains on top of it.
Even the shelves of old books in this office are perfectly lined in height order.
“How are you?”
“Great,” I say with a forced smile, hoping my drooping eyelids and the grey rings under them don’t give away that I’m so out of my depth this year already and the semester has barely begun.
She considers me with pursed lips then smiles. “Okay, why don’t you give me your top three suggestions for a project and we can chat about them?”
For a second, I wonder whether I’ve caught Nelson’s bug because I’m suddenly nauseous. My phone vibrates against the ring binder on my lap and I don’t want to look but it could be Daddy messaging about Nelson, so I subtly glance at it.
Tanner
I might not have a psychology major but I have sat through hours of sports therapy, so you’re not fooling me, Annie.
“Annie?” Professor Banks asks.
I lift my focus from Tanner’s words to her. “Sports psychotherapy,” I blurt.
“Go on.”
“Sports. And psychology.” Oh Lord, it’s so obvious I’m thinking on my feet but if the big man upstairs knows that, please throw me a lifeline here.
I’ve been up all night with my baby, had a weekend full of respite kids at the ranch and— “Children. Parents. How do parents influence the mentality of professional athletes from early childhood?”
Thank you, Tanner.
Thank you, Nelson.
Thank you to my hippocampus for storing every dark thought about how I could ruin Nelson’s life by not having a daddy around for him.
“It’s a natural fit for you,” Professor Banks says, bringing me back to the room. “It’s important to have a genuine interest in your work and this is something you could really sink your teeth into.”
After the meeting, as I’m walking to find Daddy and Nelson, looking for Daddy’s rusty truck, I take out my phone to reply to Tanner. My day is looking up, once again, thanks to his unintentional help, and I don’t have to lie now to tell him something positive.
But I almost trip over my feet when the message on my screen has been replaced by a newer notification.
Auston
I’m flying to Texas in the morning. It’s my free day tomorrow. Where can I see you?
Tomorrow? Just like that?
Naturally, he expects I’ll be free to fall at his feet.
But of course he knows I will because I always have.
In temper at myself, I want to throw my phone across campus, but as I look up from Auston’s message, that familiar tightening of everything beneath my skin, I spot Daddy and Nelson, sitting on a park bench by the green.
My feelings about Auston aren’t the main priority if he’s going to do right by my child.
I’ve got to see him, if only to find out what he has to say.
To understand if there’s a chance he deserves to be in Nelson’s life.
I need to peer into the whites of his eyes and decide if I believe he wants to be a father.