Final Thoughts About LFGTK

Final Thoughts About LFGTK

Longer Field Goals to Kick has a long history. First titled Trust Me, I completed the book in 1995, a year after the publication of my first novel, Triangle. In May, 1996, I signed a contract with Harcourt Brace, the publisher of Triangle, for Trust Me and was offered a $3,000 advance. HB paid me $1,500 of the advance for signing the contract. Man, at that point I thought I was a solid member of the HB young adult author stable. Not so. In July, 1997, the publisher backed out of the Trust Me deal, saying the story was too commercial; the company was looking for literary fiction. Fortunately, I didn't have to return the $1,500—I'd already spent the money. Then in January, 1998, my agent wrote to tell me she would no longer represent young adult fiction. The books were not profitable enough. A double dose of disappointment.

Over the years I sent Trust Me to many agents and publishers. I changed the title to The Panther Plan and finally to its present title. The book received tons of photocopied rejections like this one: We do not believe your manuscript would fit our agency needs at this time. But some agents/editors wrote to me personally: I like the story, but I do not believe it is strong enough to compete successfully in today's very competitive juvenile market. Another one: What's perceived as "problem novels" are just not selling these days. Another: I think Trust Me has many terrific aspects—an interesting basic premise, realistic high school setting, and a sports related subplot. The last rejection came from Candlewick Press, February 27, 2007. An associate editor wrote: I think you've done a great job capturing the spirit and energy of these characters and the complexity of the situation they're in. My heart started pounding. Is she going to ask to see the full manuscript? I wondered. Not at all. At the end of the letter, the editor thanked me for thinking of Candlewick Press and said she hoped I found a home for the story elsewhere.

Since February 2007, the manuscript has languished in my file cabinet. I realize the book will never make it in today's market. It's simply another boy-gets-girl-pregnant story, of which there must be hundreds. It's not edgy; it's not gritty. No werewolves. No vampires. No drugs. No rape. No dysfunctional parents—dad's an alcoholic; mom's hooked on prescription drugs. Everyone's sort of normal. And that's the problem with the book in today's market. I accept that.

I still like the story, though. I like the thought of two young people falling in love after making a mistake and trying to work things out. I like the thought that they think about what's right for the baby and are willing to make tough sacrifices for the new life they created. I like a pregnancy story from the male point of view. I like happy endings. But, really, would a guy give up a football scholarship to marry a girl whose baby is someone else's? I wonder about that. Not very realistic, is it? But maybe a guy would do those things if were Michael Panther.

At any rate, through the magic of blogging on the Internet, a few people have read the story—I like that, too. The LFGTK blog had over 600 hits. I don't know if that's good or not. But I'm pleased.

Feel free to comment about the book, good or bad. I'd love to hear from you. Writers crave feedback and develop thick skins.

Jon Ripslinger

Epilogue

"What's the letter say?" Jodi shifted Matt on her back. Frowned at me.

"Just that they regret I've elected to give up my football scholarship and will not be attending the university this fall..."

Epilogue

A year had zipped by since Jodi and I made love that one time in a deer hunter's cabin here in Wisconsin. Well, twice, actually.

From the peak of the cabin I was hammering on, I spotted Jodi marching down a grassy, tree-lined path, Matt cradled on her back in a sling, papoose style. I slid the last shingle into place and pounded away, while a squirrel in an oak tree ten yards away skittered about and scolded me for making so much racket.

After slamming the final nail home, I perched on the roof and wiped the sweat off my face, arms, and shoulders with my T-shirt. It was five o'clock in the evening, still hot for August here in Wisconsin, though I was working in tree shade. I wore only camouflage jeans, combat boots, and a leather tool belt buckled around my waist. Travis had shown me how to lay shingles. Tomorrow he'd show me how to cap the roof. That's how Travis and I worked together. He'd show me how to get started on a project like roofing, and I'd do as much as I could by myself. Then he'd show me the next step.

I worked for him almost seven days a week. I lived alone in a used-but-like-new, thirty-four-foot trailer I'd bought with some of my trust-fund money. It was parked in a clearing a good distance from Jodi's house and the campgrounds, like seventy-five yards. Mom'd shipped me household items—silverware, dishes, pots, pans, sofa, lamps, kitchen table and chairs. My own bed. Jodi and Lois hung curtains everywhere in the trailer, and Travis and I laid new carpeting.

Jodi stopped fifteen feet below me now, hands on her hips, tilted her head, looked up, and said, "Well, the shingles look straight. Think they'll keep the rain out?"

"No. You got a few buckets ready?"

She smiled, then reached in her back pocket. "Got a couple of letters."

I wiped my face again with my T-shirt. Tucked it under my tool belt. "What do they say?"

"I read only one of them."

I climbed down the ladder. I stuck my face over Jodi's shoulder and kissed Matt on a fat, pink cheek. He was sleeping, his thick red hair sticking up. He always smelled of baby powder. Well, not always. And he kept growing every day. Amazing.

Jodi handed me an official-looking envelope from the University of Iowa. I sliced it open with my shingle-cutting knife and read it silently.

"What's the letter say?" Jodi shifted Matt on her back. Frowned at me.

"Just that they regret I've elected to give up my football scholarship and will not be attending the university this fall. They extend their best wishes for my future." I stuffed the envelope and letter into my back pocket.

"I wish there could've been a different way, Michael."

"Let's not hash it over again."

"All right."

"We start a year from now, like we said, both of us. Junior college will be just fine. End of discussion."

Of course Jodi's and my college dreams had changed somewhat. I mean, lots of things change when you have the responsibility of a baby—Mom had told me that. And she was right.

 Rather than becoming an environmental biologist, Jodi's aim now was to become a high school biology teacher. My goal was to earn a BA in business administration, and then I was going to help Travis build Ghost Bay into the most awesome resort in all of northern Wisconsin.

"What's the other letter?" I said.

She handed me the envelope. It was addressed to her and had already been opened. I slipped the letter out. It said that October 20th had officially been added to the St. Joseph's Church calendar for the date of Jodi's and my wedding with a reception to follow in the church basement.

"Well," I said, "that's one more problem solved."

"C'mon, Michael, time to quit work. We've got to get ready—you've got to take a shower. Class tonight."

Jodi's hand slipped into mine as we strolled up the path toward my trailer. Our trailer.

Twice a week—on Tuesdays and Thursdays—Jodi and I attended prenuptial classes at her church. The classes were designed to help us understand what marriage is all about, its meaning and responsibilities. A married couple with three young kids sponsored us, friends of Travis and Lois. Four other unmarried couples attended class with us with their sponsors. We were the youngest people there—both eighteen now—and the only couple with a baby already. We got a lot of weird looks—Jodi with her blonde hair, Matt with his red hair, and me with my black hair. But that was all right. Let 'em wonder.

At the trailer, Jodi squeezed my hand.

In a few months we'd be living here together, man and wife.

The trailer perched in a nice spot with lots of trees and grass around it and with a view of the lake. Before winter set in, I wanted to add a deck, and Jodi said in the spring she was going to plant wildflowers around it.

"Don't be late for supper," she reminded me.

"I won't."

I pecked a kiss off Matt's cheek and Jodi's and then watched her trot off down the path in the dappled sunlight toward her parents' house. Forty yards away, she turned and called, "Hey, Michael?"

"What?"

"You know what the lazy cat said to the mouse?"

"What?"

"Catch you later."

I laughed. I laughed at every one of her stupid riddles and knew I always would.

I sighed and squinted up at the bright sky through the trees. Dad I missed, and Mom, too. Football I missed. I didn't play in the all-star game. Coach Flynn said he agreed with my priorities. My dream of playing for Iowa and becoming a star I missed. Oz I missed. The big house Dad built for Mom and me I missed. Hell, I missed everything from my old life. And sometimes I still felt too young to be getting married and becoming a family man. Instantly.

But on the bright side, I have a new dream—house, job, family. Longer field goals to kick. After Jodi and I are married, I'll be able to adopt Matt. DNA testing proved Luke to be the father, but he signed off on any claim to the boy.

Matthew Travis Panther. The name sounds awesome.

And last night, as we sat near the lake on the bank, the moonlight glistening off the water and frogs croaking nearby, Jodi said she thought our next boy should be named Mike. I agreed and said the one after that we should name Pete, after my dad. He'd like that.

"All right," Jodi said. "But we need a girl in there somewhere."

I kissed her in the moonlight. "Sounds good to me."

The End

Coming Wednesday: Final Thoughts About LFGTK

Chapter Thirty

Mom said, "Jodi called this morning. She wanted me to make sure you called back."

I blinked. "Honest?"

"I wouldn't lie."

I plunked down at the table. I felt a little breathless and wondered what was up.

Chapter Thirty

I saw Christie a few days later.

I was in Walgreens browsing through the magazine rack. I'd picked out a Sports Illustrated to thumb through. I'd also picked up a couple of other items—cologne, a three-pack of sports socks, a pen, and a packet of stationery. I'd thrown everything into a plastic basket with handles that customers carry around when they don't buy a cartload of things. The basket sat at my feet.

Christie strolled up to me and said, "Hi. How are things going?"

"Oh...hi. Fine...just fine."

"Jodi have her baby?"

Dropping the magazine into my basket, I said, "Last week. A boy. Matt. They went back to Wisconsin."

Christie eyed the basket at my feet. "Stationery? Since when did you start writing letters?"

"Today. I'm going to start today, I'm writing Jodi."

"Are the two of you...?"

"What?"

"Well...?"

"Getting married," I said.

"Well...I guess that's what I wanted to know."

I looked down, nudged the basket with my toe, and cleared my throat. "We're just friends." I figured I might as well tell her. "The baby isn't mine."

Christie went owl-eyed on me. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all."

While my feet shuffled about, I recited a very short version of the story: Jodi had a redheaded boyfriend before I met her. The baby has red hair. End of story.

Christie said, "So she didn't really know who the father was until—"

"She thought she knew."

"—the baby was born?"

"That's right."

"Unbelievable." Christie tucked her long dark hair behind her ears. "That must've shaken everybody up."

"Down to our toes."

"Somebody said you took her to the hospital in Iowa City the day of graduation. That's why you weren't there."

"That's right."

"You didn't know then?"

I reached down and picked up the basket by its handles. "Uh-uh." Why is that so hard to believe?

"How could she do that to you? I mean, when I talked to her she seemed like such a nice person. How could she lie to you like that?"

"She didn't lie—she is a nice person. She got caught up in some unusual circumstances. We got caught up..." I tugged at the collar on my T-shirt.

Christie said, "Sorry. I'm asking too many questions."

"The whole experience has left me...kind of confused. Kind of numb."

"I'll bet." Then, "What are you going to do this summer?"

"I don't know. Depends." I shifted the basket from my right hand to my left. I didn't want to blow Christie off. I didn't know when I'd ever talk to her again, but this conversation was starting to kill me.

"Look, Michael, I wanted to tell you Oz called and made a special effort to let me know you didn't tell him anything about us. About you and me. He called a while back."

"That was nice of him. And nice of you to tell me."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

I shrugged. "You still seeing Norman Bixby?"

"We're going to Northwestern together. What's Oz doing these days?"

"Playing the field. Different girl every week. He made the Shriners all-star football team. So did I. And he's going to walk on at Iowa."

"Congratulations. To both of you."

"Thanks. I'll tell him you said so."

"Oz got over his shyness in a hurry, didn't he?"

"And now I think he's headed in the wrong direction."

"Some girl out there will tame him. Wait and see. How's your mom?"

"Great. She's got a boyfriend."

Christie's head tilted. "No kidding. How do you feel about that? I mean it's hard for me to picture your mom with anyone else."

For no reason, I rearranged the items in my basket, setting the magazine and the stationery under the others. "I know. But I think its people that make people happy. Not cars or houses or money. I want my mom to be happy.

"He's a nice guy?"

"Yeah, he's all right." He'll never replace my dad.

"You think they're serious?"

"My mom doesn't wear her wedding ring anymore. They stay out late a lot. Even weekday nights. I might have to set a curfew for her. I haven't caught them making out, though."

"Ground her," Christie said, and we laughed. It was good to laugh with Christie again.

What I really wanted to tell her was I was sorry what we'd had together hadn't lasted. It was special. But I didn't. Maybe she knew it in her heart, just like I did.

"See you around," she said.

"Yeah. See you around."

When I got home, Mom sat at the kitchen table writing on a pad of yellow legal paper, the cordless phone on the table.

She'd sold the house and was now looking for a condo. On the yellow pad she was making a list of household items she wanted to take with her and those that would go up for sale.    

She'd been working on the list for days.

"Michael," she said, "you're going to have to make a list, too, things of yours you might like me to keep for you."

"All right."

Mom handed me the cordless and a ripped-off corner of yellow paper with a number scrawled on it. "Jodi called this morning. She wanted me to make sure you called back."

I blinked. "Honest?"

"I wouldn't lie."

I plunked down at the table. I felt a little breathless and wondered what was up.

 Mom gathered her pen and legal pad and left the room.

Holding my breath, I punched in the numbers.

Lois answered. "Hi, Michael." She sounded glad to hear my voice and asked how I was getting along. I told her I was okay. She said Jodi would be just a minute, Matt was crying. My cheeks puffed. I blew out a big breath of air. "Things going okay?"

"Pretty good," Lois said.

Then, "Michael?" Jodi's voice.

"Hey..." I was speechless a moment, tongue paralyzed. "Um...my mom said you'd called. Is everything all right?"

"Yes."

"Matt's okay?"

"He's fine. Gaining weight like crazy."

"Mom said...you wanted me to call back. I got my DNA results in the mail, if that's what you wanted to know. Have you heard from Luke?"

"Not yet. Probably any day now."

"Good."

"He's agreed to get tested, but he's like, 'I'm not coming back there, no matter what.'"

"What an asshole."

"I knew all along he wouldn't..."

I pulled my chair closer to the table and planted my elbows on it. I didn't know what else to say. I didn't see how a guy could turn his back on his own kid. Like not even want to see him. Or be part of his life.

"Michael...this is..." Jodi was struggling for words, too.

"What?"

"This is so difficult... I mean, you're not mad at me, are you?"

"For what?"

"I was so afraid you'd be mad at me..."

"Why?"

"For blowing you off the last time we talked."

"I'm not. Look, Jodi—" I switched the phone to my other ear.

"Michael, I do want you to come to Wisconsin this summer and stay as long as you can...if you'd still like to."

Giant pause. My heart flip-flopped. Then stopped for a beat or two. "You're not kidding?"

"Pop says he could use your help—he's way behind repairing docks. The snow and ice tear them up. He wants to build two new cabins."

"I swear, I don't have to play this football game."

"Play it, Michael. Be here when you can...but only if you really want to."

I heard Matt crying in the background.

"I want to give us a chance, too, Michael. Everything's so uncertain, but I want us to have a real chance. Matt does, too."

I shifted in the chair and smiled. "You asked him?"

"When I got home, I'm like, 'Matt, what do you think of that guy, Michael?' And he goes, 'I'd like to know him better.'"

"He said that? He actually said that?"

"That's what he said. Honest. 'I'd like to know him better.'"

I felt choked.

"I have to go, Michael. Matt's still crying."

"I'll write you a long letter tonight." Another ear switch. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"All right. Good-bye."

"I love you, Jodi."

Not even a pause. "I love you, too, Michael."

After Jodi hung up, I was almost afraid to breathe. Afraid to break the spell. I punched the phone's OFF button and set the phone on the table. I leaned back in my chair and threw my head back, clenched my fists, and squeezed my eyes shut.

I felt tingly all over. I felt suspended between laughing and crying. What do you think about that, Dad? Better than being invited to a million all-star football games, right? Right! Are you proud of me?

Coming Monday—Epilogue: A peek into life for Jodi, Michael, and Matt at Ghost Bay. (Final Thoughts about the story on Wednesday)

Chapter Twenty-nine

"Matt's all I can handle right now," Jodi said.

"What's that mean?"

"My life is full, that's what it means. Yours is too. You've got commitments all over the place."

Chapter Twenty-nine

Monday morning's conditioning drills had been rescheduled for 10:00 A.M. Coach Flynn had a prior eight o'clock commitment he couldn't break.

At nine-fifteen, I sat in the living room on the sofa, watching TV and scanning the help-wanted ads in the morning paper. Mom had gone to see the realtor again. She was haggling with the Fredericks over the price of the house.

I intended to call Jodi's grandparents this afternoon to see if they'd had any word about when Matt and Jodi would be home. Jodi hadn't called me. I'd thought about calling her at the hospital, but I didn't want to distract her while she was learning to deal with Matt. And though I was dying to know if she'd been in contact with Luke, I didn't want to heap more trauma on her by asking her about him. What was he going to do? Step up or not? If by chance he did step up, I'd be eliminated from the picture. Problem solved.

And what about my DNA test? What did it prove? Anything we didn't know? Probably not.

There weren't many ads for summer employment, unless I wanted to flip burgers for a fast-food place or bag groceries a supermarket. After my sophomore year, I worked for Schreiber Landscaping, cutting grass at nursing homes. The pay was minimum wage, but I liked the job because I was outside. I spent last summer at Ghost Bay. No job. I didn't know what I wanted to do this summer after the Shriners game. Something physical. Construction, maybe, if I could find something like that. I'd like to build things.

I set the paper down on the coffee table.

If Luke dropped out of the picture, how about if I spent the summer with Jodi and Matt in Wisconsin? Just to see what might happen. To see where our relationship might go. To see if Jodi and I really loved each other. That was better than anything else I could think of. I could help Travis build cabins, repair docks, and clear land for campsites.

I didn't hear anyone pulling into the driveway, so the chimes surprised me when they rang. I pulled the curtains back and looked out a front window.

My Mustang sat in the driveway, gleaming in the sun. Jodi's grandpa's minivan was parked behind my car.

I couldn't see who was at the door. Probably Lois.

The chimes rang again, and I bolted for the door.

When I swung it open, my heart nearly stopped. There stood Jodi, cradling Matt. She turned and waved at her mom and grandpa, both seated in front in the minivan. Grandpa was driving. He backed the vehicle into the street and took off.

Jodi turned back to me.

I couldn't move. I felt stuck in concrete.

"Aren't you going to let us in?" Jodi asked through the screen door.

Matt had snuggled himself deep into a blue blanket. A little blue bonnet on his head shaded his eyes from the sun. He was squirming, making tiny fists, and screwing up his face. A white baby bag rode Jodi's hip, its strap slung over her shoulder. "Well...?" she said. "He's heavy."

I still hadn't moved. Duh! "Sure. C'mon in."

I held the screen door open. As Jodi stepped into the house, I caught a whiff of baby powder mingled with her lilac perfume.

"I'm glad you're home, Michael. I should've called. But we didn't, did we, sweetie?" she said to Matt. "We just got back."

"I didn't expect you so soon."

"Anymore," Jodi said, "they send you home from the hospital as soon as possible."

We stood in the middle of the living room, bright light streaming through the windows on Jodi and Matt. Jodi wore a white blouse, new jeans, and loafers.

"You want to hold him a second while I set these things down?" She held the baby out to me. "He's just waking up, and he's going to be hungry."

I gathered the squirming bundle into my arms. Matt felt heavy and solid. Seven pounds plus. A lot more than a football.

Jodi said, "Have you got him? You have to support his head... That's right."

I touched his cheek with my forefinger. Nothing is as soft and tender as baby skin, I decided. I felt my face breaking into a wide grin.

Jodi slipped the baby bag off her shoulder and set it on the floor by the sofa. Her shape was returning, almost like she'd never had a baby. But her breasts were bigger.

"Here, let me." She scooped Matt out of my arms and sat on the edge of the sofa with him on her lap. "Isn't he a sweetie?" She rubbed her nose against Matt's, Eskimo style.

"Have you talked to Luke?"

Immediately, a pinched look twisted her face. "The Red Cross and the chaplain on his boat set it up so we could talk over a satellite phone for a little bit."

Jodi unwrapped Matt from the blanket. He was making crinkly faces, his cheeks red.

"What did Luke say?"

"He's like, 'You should've settled the whole goddamned problem by getting an abortion.'"

"He said that?"

"He said he didn't believe the baby was his because we'd used condoms, always had, and he's like, 'You created this problem for yourself by keeping the kid. Deal with it.'"

"Are you going to make him take a DNA test?"

"We talked only about three or four minutes, we didn't get to that. But my mom's looking into how to get it done."

"Is my test back?"

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry, Michael. I left my copy in the car—I can't seem to remember everything these days."

"I know...life's confusing..."

"Your copy's in the mail."

"The results?" I tried to breathe at a regular pace.

"Your DNA is not a match. You're not Matt's dad."

My head bowed a little. I didn't know what to say. Maybe something like Wow, that was close! Or maybe, Thank, God! Or, I told you so! But I didn't say any of that. And maybe I should have jumped for joy, but instead I felt my whole body sag a little. "It's hard to believe how things turned out."

"Not really. Life plays funny tricks sometimes."

Matt started to cry.

"Don't cry, sweetie," Jodi cooed.

He was dressed in a light-blue outfit that had feet in it. It snapped down his front and around the inside of his legs. Jodi untied his bonnet and scooped it off, setting it along with his blanket on the coffee table.

Matt's hair was even redder than I remembered.

"Thank you for letting us use your car, Michael."

"I was glad to help. Really."

"My mom drove it here. I can't drive yet because of my stitches. Grandpa followed us—they went to run an errand. Mom filled it with gas this morning and took it to a car wash."

"She didn't have to do that."

"The keys are in the ignition."

I glanced at my watch. Nine-thirty.

"Going someplace?" Jodi asked.

"Uh...no place important."

"I won't stay long. They'll pick me up in a bit. We're going back to Wisconsin tomorrow. Grandma and Grandpa are going with."

"So soon?"

"My dad's trying to handle everything alone at Ghost Bay. He needs help."

Matt looked as if he were trying to jam his fist into his mouth and suck it. Jodi brushed his wispy red hair down and started her knees bouncing.

Suddenly Matt let out a wail and kicked his legs, his face tightening and getting even redder. Jodi hoisted him to her shoulder and patted his back. "Don't cry, baby. You're hungry, aren't you? Yes you are."

Jodi talked to Matt as if he were a regular little adult and understood everything she said.

"You don't mind if I feed him, do you, Michael? He's hungry. I should've fed him before we stopped here, but he was sleeping." She kissed him on the cheek. "Our timing isn't very good, is it, sweetie?"

"Sure, feed him." I expected Jodi to fish a bottle out of the diaper bag. "Do you need to heat his bottle or anything? Microwave it?"

Jodi smiled at me. "Not hardly, Michael. Mommy's going to feed you, sweetie."

She cradled Matt in her lap with her left arm. With her right hand, she unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked the front of her bra, and popped out a breast. Matt didn't have to be shown what to do. He turned his head, latched on, and began to gulp, all in one motion, his tiny hands knotted into fists.

"Isn't that good?" Jodi said to him. "Hand me his blanket, Michael."

I stood staring at Jodi and Matt, fascinated. Seeing a baby nurse was an awesome sight. He was smacking like a little piggy.

"His blanket, Michael." Jodi pointed to the coffee table.

"Huh? Oh...sure."

I gave Jodi the blanket, and she covered Matt with it.

"They told me at school not be embarrassed about nursing. It's a normal activity. I hope you don't mind."

"No—no. I...um...I've never seen a baby nurse before, that's all."

I glanced at my watch again. Nine-forty-five.

Matt jerked his head away and let out a wail. "Have you got a pain, baby?" Jodi pointed. "Michael, in the diaper bag on the floor, there's a small white towel. Hand it to me, please."

"Right."

I dug the towel out of the bag and tossed it to Jodi. While she wiped Matt's mouth with a corner of the towel, he wailed louder, his face turning red again.

I felt a little panicky. "What's wrong with him?"

"He needs to be burped."

Jodi placed the towel over her shoulder and hoisted Matt up again. She started to whack him on the back—I thought a little too hard. But maybe not. In a moment he let out a loud, long Burrrp! and spit up on the towel.

 "Is the pain gone, sweetie? You feel better now? You want more to eat?" Jodi wiped Matt's face again and lowered him to her breast, covering him with the blanket.

While Jodi rocked Matt from side to side in her arms, nursing him, I gazed at the pair silently. Jodi kept her eyes on Matt, kissing him on his head of red hair, and I wondered how I could say what I really wanted to say. I don't know how much time went by. The scene mesmerized me, Jodi nursing Matt. My knee started to jiggle. I couldn't sit here forever just watching. Finally, I drew in a breath, exhaled, and said carefully, "Jodi, listen to me. I'd like to go back to Wisconsin with you."

Matt started to cry. He must've lost his grip on Jodi's nipple. She peeked under the blanket and helped him out.

 I said, "I've got a football game to play, but I'd skip that to spend all the time I can with you and Matt. If your mom and dad don't care. I mean, I could help your dad around Ghost Bay. He needs help, doesn't he?"

Matt started to kick, and his little arms flailed under the blanket.

"Are you full, sweetie? Would you hold him a minute, Michael? I think he's full and needs his diaper changed."

Jodi stood and slid Matt into my arms. His fragrance told me he needed a change, all right.

"How are you doing, Matt?" I tickled his cheek. I swear he smiled. "When are you going to be ready for football practice?" Then to Jodi I said, "Are you listening to me? I want to give us all a chance to know each other better. And become more than just friends."

Jodi hooked her bra cup, buttoned her blouse. She looked me straight in the eye. "What are you talking about, Michael?"

"Since Matt was born, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Even before that..."

"I think if we stay friends," Jodi said, "like now, that's good enough. In fact, I'd like that, us remaining friends."

"I'd like to give us all a chance to be a family."

Jodi's green eyes pierced me. "But why, Michael? Why now? I mean, I don't think I kept it a secret I cared for you. A whole lot. But you're not part of this anymore."

"I want to be."

"From the beginning you didn't want me, not even at Ghost Bay, and when I got to Grandview the thought of a baby freaked you out. Big time." Tears gathered in Jodi's eyes.

"Only at first."

From the baby bag she pulled out a disposable diaper, a little tube of ointment, and a yellow plastic canister the size of a coffee can, a tissue sticking out of the top. She set everything on the coffee table. Then she pulled a small foam pad out of the diaper bag and smoothed it out on the couch.

"Matt's all I can handle right now," Jodi said.

"What's that mean?"

"My life is full, that's what it means. Yours is too. You've got commitments all over the place."

"I'd like to make a commitment to Matt and you."

"Don't play me, Michael. Not again."

"I'm not."

"What happens the first time we have a fight? Or like you get bored—you miss your football buddies? Or you hate changing diapers? Or you can't stand listening to a baby cry any longer? What happens then?"

"I can handle all that."

"Not for long. Eventually you'll accuse Matt and me of depriving you from becoming a star. You'll accuse us of ruining your life. You'll feel trapped. You'll bail."

"Never."

Jodi shook her head; tears dripped from her eyes.

"I'd never say any of those things—none of that would ever happen."

"You're right, Michael, it won't happen. I won't let it." Jodi snatched Matt from me. She changed his diaper, rolled it up, and handed it to me. "Don't put it down the toilet, it'll plug everything up."

Gingerly, I took the diaper from her with my thumb and forefinger. It smelled ripe. It wasn't the kind of handoff I was used to. "Put it outside in the garbage can," she said.

I went outside through the garage and threw the diaper into the garbage. The spring morning was beautiful—blue sky, warm sun, and fresh air. Mornings would be even more beautiful in Wisconsin. Pine scent in the air. Loons calling from across Big Sand Lake.

I kicked the garbage can, and the lid flew off. I tossed the diaper in, picked up the lid, and slammed it back on the can.

Jodi was telling me the same thing I'd told her at Ghost Bay: She didn't have a place for me in her life. She was giving me the same message I'd given her when she came to Grandview: She didn't want to be involved with me.

Besides, she didn't need me. She had Matt. He'd keep her plenty busy. Her folks would help her. She didn't need Luke or me. I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock. I was going to be late for conditioning.

A horn honked in front of the house.

When I hurried back into the living room, Matt was lying on the sofa, Jodi bending over him, tying his bonnet. She'd wrapped him in his blanket and had put his gear away in his baby bag.

"He's going to sleep," Jodi said, and turned to look at me, her eyes clear of tears now. "Mom and Grandpa are outside waiting." She slung the baby bag over her shoulder. "I'd better go."

I glanced again at my watch. "I've got conditioning for the all-star game at ten, but I don't have to go. Let me take you home so we can talk more about this."

"Good-bye, Michael. I appreciate all your help, I really do. You turned out to be a great friend, I'll never forget you."

That was the same thing I'd said to her when we parted on that last night at Ghost Bay: I'll never forget you.

Jodi marched out the front door and down the drive, the baby bag thudding off her thigh. I wasn't ready to give up. I stalked after her and stopped her at the back of my Mustang. "Jodi, listen to me..."

Tears rushed to her eyes again.

"I'll call you," I said. "Maybe you'll change your mind."

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Then you call me," I said. "I called you. Remember? May eleventh."

"No."

"Please?" My heart ached so bad I wanted to scream. And I hated begging. But what else could I do? All I wanted was a chance. "Please."

"No, Michael..."

"What does Matt want? Have you asked him? What does he say? He's got a voice in this, too. Ask him."

Jodi's eyes flinched, as if I'd struck a nerve.

"You have to think about him," I said. "Maybe he likes me. Ask him. I like him..."

She whirled and ran for her grandpa's station wagon. At the door, she turned back to look at me, hesitating a moment, as if she were debating, maybe thinking about changing her mind. At least, that's what I thought was going on—hope rushed in—but I was wrong. She jumped into the minivan and slammed the sliding door shut.

My shoulders slumped; my heart sank. Grandpa, Matt, and Jodi drove away. Nobody even waved good-bye.

I didn't want to be a dad, anyway, did I?

I have a cannon for a leg.

But for a moment I thought maybe I had longer field goals to kick.

Coming Friday—Chapter Thirty: A phone call from Jodi. (One chapter left, an epilogue, and final thoughts)

Chapter Twenty-eight

"Well, congratulations, Michael," Mrs. Costello said. "And best of luck to you and your new family."

My eyes darted away from hers. "Thank you."

Chapter Twenty-eight

I thanked Mom again for sharing her story with me and trying to make me feel better. After I ate, showered, and let Mom's breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and orange juice settle, I rode my ten-speed to school to pick up my diploma. I figured it hadn't been mailed yet.

It was a ten-mile ride. The morning was sunny and warm, like yesterday. Conditioning drills this afternoon would be brutal.

I rode my bike leisurely, staring ahead at the road and traffic, feeling my muscles work, my blood pump. What kind of life would Matt have? Not a bad one, I guessed, growing up on a lake in the wilderness of northern Wisconsin. I imagined he'd grow up with Jodi's interests—biology, ecology, and the environment. He'd be an excellent hunter and fisherman. Like Travis.

Probably a fishing guide, too. Things I'd never done.

Football? Probably not. Unless someone was there to guide him. Like Dad guided me.

Maybe because Matt didn't have a dad, he'd grow up sullen and confused, thinking himself worthless. No one wanted to be his dad. He'd be a troublemaker. Drop out of school. Do drugs. Get busted. Do time. I shook my head, trying to scatter those thoughts.

           

In the office at school, Mrs. Costello handed me my diploma, and I asked her if I could buy the tassel off my cap.

"Costs a dollar," she said.

"Fair enough." I reached for my billfold.

"Where were you graduation night? You received first honors. Not many athletes around here do that."

Mrs. Costello grabbed a box from the ten or twelve stacked along the office wall. Evidently they contained the caps and gowns of other students who hadn't shown up for graduation. She opened the box, plucked the red-and-white tassel off the cap, and handed it to me.

I paid her a buck. "Thanks," I said.

"You didn't tell me where you were."

"Iowa City. I took Jodi to have her baby."

Mrs. Costello eyed me. "Mother, baby, and father are doing fine?"

I didn't know what to say except, "Yes. Fine."

"What did you name him?"

"Matthew," I said. "Thanks for everything, Mrs. Costello. I'm riding my bike. I gotta go."

"Well, congratulations, Michael," Mrs. Costello said. "And best of luck to you and your new family."

My eyes darted away from hers. "Thank you."

Outside in the sunshine, as I straddled my bike and peered up at the sky, I wondered why I didn't tell Mrs. Costello the flat-out truth: Someone else had knocked up Jodi. Not me, Mrs. Costello. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't have a new family at all.

Before conditioning drills in the afternoon on the Falcon practice field, I explained to Coach Flynn about my missing the first session of practice this morning. I told him about Jodi and the baby and how I thought I might be a dad, but I'm probably not. He scowled, scratched his head, and said, "I'm not surprised. Seems like kids these days more than ever are screwing with their futures. Literally."

"It's just something that happened. I can't explain it."

He peered at me in the sunlight. "You got a future in this game, Michael."

"You really think so?"

He nodded. "But there's no sure thing in life. You can blow out a shoulder, knee, or an ankle just like that"—he snapped his fingers—"and you're finished. Football, relationships—there are no sure things."

"I understand."

"Think long and hard about what you want. Because, well, frankly, life's a crap shoot."

With a watchful eye, Coach Flynn put Oz, Honey, and me and five other area guys through stretching, sprinting, and running drills like he wanted to kill us, not get us in shape for a game. Really, buy the time we quit, our tongues were hanging out. We felt hammered.

Later, Oz and I lay on the grassy hill overlooking the Falcons' practice field, resting, tying to catch our breath. Fortunately, a breeze had kicked up. It cooled us and dried off our sweaty bodies. We couldn't get into school to shower because the building was closed. All the summer office people and the custodians go home at four or five. But lying in the grass wasn't too bad.

Hughes had taken off, saying he had to get home, shower, and be to work by six at the Hy-Vee grocery store on Rockingham Road. The others had taken off, too.

Earlier, before I'd even talked to Coach Flynn, the minute Oz saw me, he chewed me out for missing graduation and all of the awesome parties and hot chicks available later on during the night. "You could've gotten anything you wanted," he said. "Or could handle."

I'd already told him about Jodi and the baby. About Matt's having red hair.

Now, lying next to me on the hill, he asked, "You're not thinking of staying involved with this Jodi chick, are you?"

Both of us lay back in the grass with our hands laced behind our heads. I studied a few puffy clouds drifting by in the sky. I thought one of the clouds looked like a baby lying on its back. I mean, I could make out a head and a body. Legs and feet. Seriously. "I don't know what I'm going to do," I said.

"Look, if the baby's yours, sure, you got to do what's right. But there's no way in hell it's going to turn out to be yours, is it?"

"Probably not. Not with that red hair."

"So you do what's good for you. You walk, man. Concentrate on this game. Then you go to Iowa. Become a star. You get your life back. What more can you ask for?"

"I could trade that life for a different one."

"Don't be stupid. You're too young to be a dad. And why would you want to be a dad to somebody else's kid?"

I propped up a knee and crossed my other leg on top of it. "I could still go to college, maybe not play football, but go to college."

"Stop saying that shit, will you? Think of the awesome times we'll have at Iowa. Think of the chicks..."

I don't think I mentioned that after I'd signed my letter of intent with Iowa, the coaches talked to Oz. They studied game films. Saw how quick he is. How willing he is to pancake guys. They were giving him a chance to walk on at Iowa. I'm sure he'd make it. We'd be on the same team again.

"Dump this chick," he said. "You did more for her than most guys would've."

"She really needed someone. You have no idea what labor's like. I don't think either of us could handle it."

"Most guys as soon as they found out she'd hooked up with someone else, they'd have blown her off. You know that's true."

"Probably."

"You know what else? She's been lying all this time. She'd been trying to make you think you're the baby's dad—saying her and this Luke guy used condoms. Which they probably didn't use at all."

"I don't believe that."

"She figured you'd be the easier guy to snare, what with this Luke guy being out to sea someplace."

"I don't think she'd lie about that."

"She didn't tell you she could've gone to school in Wisconsin, did she?"

"No."

"Think about what I'm saying."

"She wouldn't lie like that."

"Maybe she likes you better than the other guy, I'll give her that, but she lied... Just think about it."

I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest, and circled my legs with my arms. "She didn't lie, I know she didn't."

Oz sat up beside me. "Walk away. It's the easiest, smartest thing to do."

Coming Wednesday—Chapter Twenty-nine: Jodi bids Michael a painful goodbye. (Two chapters, an epilogue, and finial thoughts left)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Then Mom asked, "Could you really love someone else's baby?"

"I held him. He felt like mine. He's awesome."

"I told you, newly borns are precious."

Chapter Twenty-seven

The Greyhound bus dropped me off at its depot in Grandview at two in the afternoon. The sky was sunny and bright blue. I took a taxi home.

Mom wasn't home when I walked in.

Bone-weary, kicking my shoes off as soon as I staggered into the house, I fell into bed, clothes on, and slept until eight the next morning. After I woke up, I wandered into the kitchen in a haze, rubbing my eyes, smelling coffee. I found Mom dressed in a dark-blue suit. She sat at the table eating a long john from Kroenfeldt's bakery with her coffee. The box sat on the table.

She smiled at me. "I thought you'd never wake up. Why didn't you call? Or leave a note when you got home? I knew you were here because I found your shoes in the living room. Where's your car?

"I didn't have time to call. And I didn't think about a note, I was so tired. Really, I didn't think about calling either—things were so crazy."

"I'm dying to know—boy or girl?"

I rubbed my face and sat down across from Mom at the table. "Boy. But I don't think you're a grandmother."

Mom's eyebrows jumped. "You don't think—what?"

I told her about Jodi's labor, her having the baby Caesarean, and my decision to take a bus home and to let Lois use my car. And that the baby had red hair. Didn't look anything like me. I finished with, "I took a DNA test. Just to be sure. A swab in the mouth."

Mom sat back in her chair and shook here head. "I can't believe this. I never thought it possible. I just assumed Jodi knew... She must feel terrible."

"I think so. Really bad."

"And you? You're relieved?"

I rubbed my face again. "I don't know what I feel. You get all geared up for something to happen—something that's exciting but at the same time something you fear—and all of a sudden it's over and it's not like you thought it was going to be...and you feel empty. I guess that's the way I feel. Empty."

Mom finished off her long john and her cup of coffee.

"There are more in the box," she said. "I'll get you a glass of milk." She shoved her chair back and got up from the table. "Maybe there's something I should tell you..."

"What?"

Her eyes swept over me. "It happened a long time ago." An odd expression crept over her face. Sort of a frown mixed with hesitation. "There really was no reason to tell you before."

"What?"

Mom poured me a glass of cold milk from the cartoon in the refrigerator and set the glass on the table. "Your dad and I met in college..."

My turn to frown. I knew they met in college. Why was she telling me this?

"...I became pregnant..."

Oh-oh!

This is something I hadn't heard before.

I leaned back in my chair.

"I intended to drop out of school, marry your dad, have the baby, and return to school whenever I could."

Staggering thoughts leaped into my mind. "You had the baby adopted? I have a brother or sister somewhere? You've kept this a secret, dad and you, all this time?"

Shaking her head quickly, Mom sat across from me again and pulled her chair close to the table. "The baby was stillborn. I carried it for seven months."

"Oh wow."

"The doctors couldn't tell me exactly went wrong."

"That's rotten."

"I'm telling you now because I want you to know I understand that empty, hollow feeling inside—especially after expecting an event that is both scary and exciting, all at the same time. And then there's nothing..."

"Exactly... Does the feeling ever go away? I mean, I still feel hollow inside because of dad's death."

"After a long, long time."

I sighed. I thought it awesome that my mom was sharing her experience with me, letting me know I wasn't alone. And maybe that's why she didn't get on my case so bad when I told her Jodi was pregnant. She didn't yell at me. She didn't scream at me. She knew how these things happen.

"I loved that child growing inside me," Mom said, "even though I never knew her—she was taken away from me but I still loved her."

"The baby was a girl, you had a name for her?"

"Susan... She would've been your older sister."

Matt—he could've been my youngest son, but he's probably not. And he'll be taken away.

Silence descended on us. I don't think Mom wanted to say anything more about Susan, and I didn't want to ask anything else. I was grateful she'd told me what she had.

"What did Jodi name the baby?"

"Matthew Travis Jackson."

"I like that. How much did he weigh?"

"I don't remember. The doctor told me...um, seven pounds, I think. A little more, maybe." I reached across the table and touched Mom's shoulder. She'd been through a lot. You've put her thought a lot, Michael. "Thanks for telling me..." I said.

Tears gleamed in her eyes. "It's all right. I...I just thought knowing might help a bit."

"It does."

Then I gulped a swallow of cold milk and bit into a long john with strawberry filling, a sprinkling of powdered sugar on top. Suddenly I realized I was starved. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I gulped more milk and devoured the long john in three bites.

"Are you disappointed?" Mom asked.

"I don't know, I think so...I mean, I finally accepted the fact that the baby was mine, and when I helped Jodi through labor, I knew for sure I loved her. And the baby. I mean, I felt it...really deep inside."

"And if it turns out the baby isn't yours—which apparently is most likely—will you love Jodi any less? Or the baby?"

I took only a second to answer: "No. Not at all."

"What about Luke? Will he take responsibility?"

"Probably not." I told Mom what I knew about Luke McAllister. "I don't think he'll want to be in the picture. But you can never tell."

We were silent again.

Then Mom asked, "Could you really love someone else's baby?"

"I held him. He felt like mine. He's awesome."

"I told you, newly borns are precious."

"I didn't even notice his red hair at first. But if the baby's not mine, I don't think Jodi wants me to be part of its life. Or hers. Even if Luke ducks out."

"She's setting you free."

"Right. I can chase my dreams."

I grabbed another long john. Took a huge bite. A big swallow of milk, emptying the glass.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"A couple of days ago, it seems like," I said with my mouth full.

Mom glanced at her watch. "I have an appointment at nine, but I can still make breakfast for you. We have bacon and eggs. How many eggs?"

"Three."

She popped up and went to the fridge. "I think you should be aware of all your feelings, Michael, all the possibilities before you walk away."

"I'm trying to."

"I'm not suggesting you should give up your scholarship. Or anything like that."

"I know..."

"Just be aware of your feelings. And be true to what you really want."

I nodded. "Where are you going this morning?"

"Our house might be sold," Mom said, pulling the eggs and bacon from the fridge, then closing the door. "I'm meeting with the realtor and a potential buyer." She set the eggs and bacon on the cupboard by the stove and got the iron skillet out.

I slumped a little. "Who's interested, someone local?"

"A couple from New York with two children, the Fredericks. The husband's with the government and has been transferred to the Arsenal. He thinks a place out of town with a few acres and trees will be good for the children."

"He's right. When do we get kicked out?"

"We're going to talk price this morning. If and when we agree, the buyer has to get a loan approved. All of this could take months. It's hard to tell." Mom turned the burner on under skillet. Dad always used it fry bacon and eggs for us on Sunday mornings. "Oh—I nearly forgot, your coach called yesterday."

"What did he say?"

"He said something about conditioning for the Shriners game. Two-a-days. Eight in the morning and four in the afternoon."

I peered at the clock above the sink. Eight-thirty.

Oh man! I hadn't even thought about football this morning.

"I told him you might miss today," Mom said. "You'd had to take a friend to Iowa City. An emergency."

"You tell him why?"

"No. And I said I didn't know when you'd be back."

I sat back in my chair. Licked the sugar off my lips with my tongue. Sorry, Coach. I missed the first conditioning session because I thought I was going to be a dad.

How's that for an excuse?

Coming Monday—Chapter Twenty-eight: Michael listens to advice from Coach Flynn and his buddy Oz. (Three chapters and an epilogue left)