was his own stupid fault for imagining she might actually be interested in more than that. There was just something about her… Damn it, but he’d really bought her Minnesota-girl-next-door act. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off. He knew he’d been had.
He took a deep breath and got out of the car. When he reached the front porch, the door opened before he had time to knock.
“Heard you pull in,” his former coach explained from behind the screen door.
Cade tried to conceal his shock at the older man’s appearance as he followed him into the house. Although they’d kept in touch by phone and later e-mail, it had been more than a decade and a half since they’d laid eyes on each other. Cade had expected the other man to age, of course, but this version of Harvey Lund barely resembled the hale, hearty man of Cade’s memories. Dressed in pajama pants and a shabby bathrobe, Lund was still tall and stocky, but between the stoop of his shoulders and the tubes in his nose, he seemed pale and shrunken somehow. As he showed Cade into the house, he moved across the floor with a shuffling gait, dragging an oxygen tank behind him.
As if sensing Cade’s discomfort, Lund said, “Besides the damn ticker, I came down with pneumonia. Have to be on the oxygen for another week or two, just to be safe.” He plopped down on a tan leather La-Z-Boy directly across from the TV. On the end table beside it was an assortment of pill bottles, a half-empty glass of water, a box of tissues, and one of those home blood pressure monitors.
A sudden, crushing sense of guilt punched Cade in the gut as, for the first time, the seriousness of the situation hit him. Harvey had come damned close to dying. How had Cade managed to let fifteen years pass without even once coming to visit this man who’d been coach, mentor, and father figure to him all through high school? Would it have been that hard to make the time?
No, it wouldn’t have been hard at all. So why hadn’t he?
But he knew why. He hadn’t because he’d been too busy living the high life and enjoying his fame and fortune to give any thought to the possibility that the man to whom he owed a lot of his success was getting older and, yes, would one day no longer be around.
Lund gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat, son.”
Despite a recent upholstery job, the sofa was clearly the same one he’d sat on numerous times as a teenager. The cushions hadn’t improved with age. “Thanks.”
He swallowed, wondering how to broach the question that was foremost in his mind.
Lund had said it would be a few weeks until he’d be ready to return to coaching. Seeing him now, Cade wasn’t so sure that was either possible or prudent.
“You thirsty? I can get you a glass of water. Or coffee.” Lund started to stand, but Cade quickly shook his head.
“No, no, don’t get up. I’m fine. And if I need anything, I can get it for myself.”
“Ah, I see,” Lund said with a chuckle. “Afraid I’m about to keel over, eh?”
“Well, to be honest, Coach, you’re not exactly the picture of health.”
Lund waved a hand. “I’m nowhere near death’s door. The heart attack was mild. If it weren’t for the damned pneumonia I picked up in the hospital, I’d have been back to work in a few days.” He covered his mouth and coughed wetly.
Cade wasn’t sure his friend’s doctor would have approved of that plan, but he was slightly reassured. If it was pneumonia and not the heart attack that made him look so frail, Lund would probably recover relatively quickly.
“So, three weeks is going to be enough?”
“My doctor says I should be fit as a fiddle by early October. Just have to keep on the beta blockers and cut down on the salt and cholesterol. And finish the antibiotics, of course.”
Cade nodded. “All right, then. I’m yours for the next three weeks. But you have to fill me in on why you need me. Don’t you trust your assistant coach run the team in your
He took a deep breath and got out of the car. When he reached the front porch, the door opened before he had time to knock.
“Heard you pull in,” his former coach explained from behind the screen door.
Cade tried to conceal his shock at the older man’s appearance as he followed him into the house. Although they’d kept in touch by phone and later e-mail, it had been more than a decade and a half since they’d laid eyes on each other. Cade had expected the other man to age, of course, but this version of Harvey Lund barely resembled the hale, hearty man of Cade’s memories. Dressed in pajama pants and a shabby bathrobe, Lund was still tall and stocky, but between the stoop of his shoulders and the tubes in his nose, he seemed pale and shrunken somehow. As he showed Cade into the house, he moved across the floor with a shuffling gait, dragging an oxygen tank behind him.
As if sensing Cade’s discomfort, Lund said, “Besides the damn ticker, I came down with pneumonia. Have to be on the oxygen for another week or two, just to be safe.” He plopped down on a tan leather La-Z-Boy directly across from the TV. On the end table beside it was an assortment of pill bottles, a half-empty glass of water, a box of tissues, and one of those home blood pressure monitors.
A sudden, crushing sense of guilt punched Cade in the gut as, for the first time, the seriousness of the situation hit him. Harvey had come damned close to dying. How had Cade managed to let fifteen years pass without even once coming to visit this man who’d been coach, mentor, and father figure to him all through high school? Would it have been that hard to make the time?
No, it wouldn’t have been hard at all. So why hadn’t he?
But he knew why. He hadn’t because he’d been too busy living the high life and enjoying his fame and fortune to give any thought to the possibility that the man to whom he owed a lot of his success was getting older and, yes, would one day no longer be around.
Lund gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat, son.”
Despite a recent upholstery job, the sofa was clearly the same one he’d sat on numerous times as a teenager. The cushions hadn’t improved with age. “Thanks.”
He swallowed, wondering how to broach the question that was foremost in his mind.
Lund had said it would be a few weeks until he’d be ready to return to coaching. Seeing him now, Cade wasn’t so sure that was either possible or prudent.
“You thirsty? I can get you a glass of water. Or coffee.” Lund started to stand, but Cade quickly shook his head.
“No, no, don’t get up. I’m fine. And if I need anything, I can get it for myself.”
“Ah, I see,” Lund said with a chuckle. “Afraid I’m about to keel over, eh?”
“Well, to be honest, Coach, you’re not exactly the picture of health.”
Lund waved a hand. “I’m nowhere near death’s door. The heart attack was mild. If it weren’t for the damned pneumonia I picked up in the hospital, I’d have been back to work in a few days.” He covered his mouth and coughed wetly.
Cade wasn’t sure his friend’s doctor would have approved of that plan, but he was slightly reassured. If it was pneumonia and not the heart attack that made him look so frail, Lund would probably recover relatively quickly.
“So, three weeks is going to be enough?”
“My doctor says I should be fit as a fiddle by early October. Just have to keep on the beta blockers and cut down on the salt and cholesterol. And finish the antibiotics, of course.”
Cade nodded. “All right, then. I’m yours for the next three weeks. But you have to fill me in on why you need me. Don’t you trust your assistant coach run the team in your
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