23. Declan #2
But I know my parents. And she doesn’t get a second chance to make an impression. It matters to me that they like her. Maybe it shouldn’t. But it does.
I swing toward the front door, opening it to find my parents staring down and to their right—at Geese Witherspoon.
Today, Geese is wearing overalls, a plaid shirt and a straw farming hat.
A miniature pumpkin is at her webbed feet, perched on a miniature hay bale.
She has a pitchfork attached to her overalls.
Darlene bought the getup. She’s all in when it comes to Geese.
Winona went crazy when she saw the outfit.
She assumed I had done it. I wish I had been the one.
Next time. I’ve already got plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
“What is that?” Dad asks in the tone he would use if there were a dead rat, stiff on the bricks of our entryway.
“It’s a goose,” I say.
“I can see that,” he says. “But what is it doing here?”
“I like it,” I say.
“It’s tacky, Declan,” Mom says plainly, as if she’s not offending me, and inadvertently Winona with her blunt assessment. “If you want porch decor, I can ask Blaire to come by and style the porch in a way that fits the exterior aesthetic.”
“I like the goose,” I say, adopting the tone I’ve learned growing up under my dad. “It stays.”
Winona’s still in the front room watching the college game. I’m hoping the sound of the television overrides this conversation.
I love that goose, crazy as it sounds. It reminds me of her and how she burst into my life with her unorthodox and unexpected presence.
She saved me from a spiral into self-pity and depression. And she doesn’t even know it.
I need to tell her.
“How are you feeling?” Dad says, sending one more derisive glance at Geese before he steps past me into the hallway.
“I’m good.”
“How’s the timeline?”
“For returning to the field?”
He nods.
Mom comes in. I offer to take her coat, but she walks to the closet, hanging it herself.
“They say I’m on schedule. Might even make it back by the end of the season before playoffs.”
“Team’s looking good,” Dad says. “Of course, your absence is felt.”
“They’re doing well,” I agree.
“We know some specialists in Nashville, if you want to see someone for a second opinion.”
“I’m good, Dad. The Thunder hires the best.”
“Yes. I imagine they do. Those men and women have to settle around here to work for the team.” He says it as if it’s a sacrifice to live near Waterford.
“I haven’t heard any complaints,” I say.
“Well, you wouldn’t.” He shifts the topic. “Are you attending strategy meetings? Watching film?”
Dad walks toward the front room. His steps falter when his eyes land on Winona. She’s sitting in the oversized chair next to the couch, her legs tucked up under her, eyes fixed on the game.
“I’m in the facility three times a week,” I say.
“Three times? Is that enough?” Dad asks.
“Rest is as important as exercise in the healing process,” Winona says, confidently.
Her head turns toward my parents. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell. It’s good to see you again.”
“Winifred?” Dad asks.
“It’s Winona, dear,” Mom corrects him. “Like the singer.”
“That’s right,” she says, beaming at my parents. “My mom was a big fan of Wynonna Judd. Only she found out the spelling was off after my birth certificate was finalized. So, I’m named after her, but only in sound. And I can’t sing like she can. Not even close.”
Winona smiles brightly. My parents stare at her.
Then Mom says, “Well, isn’t that lovely,” in a tone that isn’t as convincing as she might think.
“Personally, I’m more of a Miranda Lambert girl myself,” Winona adds.
Mom nods. Dad crosses his arms.
Well. This is going great so far.
“Who’s playing?” Dad asks, settling into one of the other chairs.
“OSU and USC,” I say.
“OSU has a deep roster,” Winona says. “Full of talent. The guys on SportsCenter were discussing it this week. But USC relies on big plays. They bring the fireworks. It’s two different styles of play. Makes for a fun game.”
Dad’s mouth literally pops open. He shuts it just as quickly.
I try to bite back my smile. If Winona is anything, it’s full of surprises.
I make my way back to the couch to elevate my foot.
Mom asks Winona, “Oh. So you’re a football fan?”
“Well, I wasn’t. Declan has gotten me into the sport. He’s a great teacher.”
She looks over at me with a fondness that fills my chest with a warm lightness. A nearly irresistible pull tugs me toward Winona. She’s too far away. My fingers itch to touch her. I want to hold her and whisper into her hair how sexy she is when she’s spouting off football facts.
If my parents can’t read the room, they’re turning a blind eye.
“That’s so thoughtful of you to say,” Mom says.
Winona smiles at her.
USC makes an interception and our collective attention turns to the TV Mom’s the least interested in the game, but she’s been around Dad long enough to have grown accustomed to watching endless hours of the sport. She loves my games, but it’s different when it’s your son.
We have to leave for Boston’s party before the game ends.
Mom and Dad head to their car, but Dad doesn’t pull away. He watches me maneuver down the steps, stow my crutches and pivot into the passenger seat of Winona’s car. It’s only when Winona turns on the engine that he heads out ahead of us.
“I can see where you get your intensity,” Winona says with a fondness.
“I’m nothing like him,” I tell her.
“You’d like to think that. But you’re actually a lot alike.
He’s passionate. I bet he’s privately soft-hearted too.
But he saves that side of himself for a select few.
He’s committed to excellence. A person could say he’s driven by that.
And he is fiercely protective of the people he loves. Sound familiar?” She smiles over at me.
“Man.” I shake my head. “Who needs therapy when they can have a car ride with you?”
“I mean it as a compliment.”
“I know. That’s the wildest part.”
“I think your dad is quite a man. He doesn’t have the emotional intelligence you do. But otherwise, some of his greatest traits carried on to you. That’s a compliment to both of you.”
I reach over, placing my hand on her knee as if I could keep her with me forever with merely a touch.
No one has ever seen me so fully and made me feel so wholly accepted.
“You’re incredible,” I tell her.
“Because I watch SportsCenter.”
“Definitely that,” I say. “Pulling that line out of nowhere. Top shelf.”
“Thank you.” She smiles over at me. “I really do like the game. It’s interesting to see what each team brings to the table. Every game is different because of the matchup.”
I just laugh softly. “Don’t ever change.”
“Cass tells me that all the time. You know what I tell her?”
“No. What?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Good.”
“Declan?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you see this going … when you’re back on the team full time?
Right now, your life is on pause. The cameras aren’t on you.
The team likes me. But what happens when your life goes back to normal?
I’m not the type of woman who fits the mold.
When your parents first met me, they thought I was the hired help.
Your dad wanted to replace me as your home health aide.
He’ll for sure want to replace me as … whatever this is. ”
Her questions rankle me. Not because she’s being unreasonable.
She’s being realistic. But I’m not ready to consider all of that.
I’m enjoying this time too much. We’ll never recapture our early dating months.
I don’t want to invite trouble. But she’s right.
We will have to prepare to be in the public eye at some point, even though I plan to shield her from all that as much as I can.
“We’re not whatever this is. We’re dating. You want more of a label?” I ask her.
“That’s not what I’m asking. I know you’re not dating other people. I’m not either. Not unless you count my dates with three dachshunds.” She laughs lightly.
“You’re my girlfriend, Winona. That’s how I see you. And my dad has nothing to do with us. I’m a grown man. I make my own decisions. We’ll navigate all the rest of that when the time comes. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” She smiles over at me. “I guess seeing your parents made me realize what’s coming.”
“I hope you’ll still give us a chance.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “And, you did stand up for Geese Witherspoon.”
“Geese stands up for herself,” I say playfully. “She doesn’t need me to defend her.”
“I think she liked having a man like you defend her honor.”
“No one puts Geese in a corner,” I say, striking a dance pose with my arms.
Winona laughs. “Dirty Dancing?”
“The goose version.”
Winona cracks up, her laughter filling the car and my chest.
“This needs to be made into a major motion picture!” she exclaims. “I would watch the heck out of that!”