Stranger in Town. Brenda Novak

      Gabe knew he was stupid to press the issue, but he was probably never going to hear the end of Hannah, anyway. So he risked one more question. “Why didn’t she leave him after the miscarriage?”

      “If you’re not interested in Hannah, why do you want to know so much about her?”

      “I’m familiarizing myself with the family situation of my starting quarterback. Coaches do that sort of thing.”

      Putting his feet down, Mike sat forward and nudged his hat up. “So Kenny’s the attraction?”

      “Of course.”

      Mike hardly looked convinced, but he shrugged. “Well then, for coaching’s sake, I’ll tell you this. I don’t know why she stayed as long as she did. Especially because Russ was a lousy husband. He went from one job to another, hung out at the Honky Tonk every weekend, went home drunk more times than not, and bought things they couldn’t afford, even when he wasn’t earning any money. My mother’s been a good friend of Violet’s for years and shakes her head whenever Russ’s name is mentioned.”

      Gabe lifted his gaze as Mike stood. “Was Hannah supporting the family with her photography way back then?”

      “Not in the early years. She worked at the diner, remember?”

      “No.” For more than a decade Gabe had been living out-of-state and hadn’t paid attention to anything beyond his career and his immediate circle of family and friends. “So when did she start taking pictures?”

      Mike crossed the deck. “Beats me. Must’ve been before the divorce, though, because I heard Russ went after her for spousal maintenance.”

      That statement made Gabe prick himself on a thorn. Mumbling a curse, he shook the sting out of his finger. “Tell me he didn’t win. Certainly she’s not supporting him….”

      Mike’s teeth flashed in another smile. “You’ll have to ask her.”

      “What?”

      His friend strode down the ramp and sauntered toward the gate. “Call her,” he said.

      “I’m not going to call her!”

      “Why not? Take her out to a movie.”

      “No way.”

      “You might have a good time, Gabe. Would that be so bad?”

      “Yes!”

      The gate clicked shut, and Gabe threw his pruning shears in the opposite direction. They arced, like a perfectly thrown football, imbedding themselves in the fence with a vibrating thwack that made Lazarus freeze near the trees and prick his ears forward. Having a good time with Hannah would be bad, Gabe thought. Because then he might want to see her again. And he couldn’t let himself get too comfortable. He had a long fight ahead of him. He couldn’t afford to bow beneath the odds and settle for spending the rest of his days in a wheelchair.

      “I’m not going to ask her out,” he called. But Mike was long gone, and only the deep bong of the wind chimes and Lazarus’s howl answered back.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE DAY HAD TURNED HOT and dry. The heat blasted into Gabe’s truck as he opened the door, lifted his wheelchair to the pavement and swung into it. Already he could feel the attention of those on the football field. Even the cheerleaders practicing stunts in front of the gym stopped to watch as he got out.

      It wasn’t difficult to imagine what they were thinking: He’s here…That’s his truck…How does he drive without using his feet? How does he get into his chair? Oh, look at that…

      He’d been MVP of the National Football League for two years running. The last thing Gabe ever thought he’d become was a freak show.

      Taking the roster from the back seat of his extended cab, he hooked it on the handle of his wheelchair, whistled for Lazarus and started pushing for the gate.

      Excited by the promise of a new activity, Lazarus trotted circles around him. Gabe was fairly sure Coach Hill had never brought a dog to practice. He knew Lazarus might raise a few eyebrows, but Gabe didn’t really care. If the school board didn’t like it, they could fire him. He hadn’t asked for this job in the first place.

      Coach Owens immediately spotted him and hurried over. They met up just as Gabe rolled onto the track surrounding the field. “Hello, Coach. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.”

      Coach…Gabe wondered how long it’d take him to get used to his new title. “Thanks. Good to see you, too.”

      Owen’s arthritis had taken more ground, distorting his hands, but his smile revealed no animosity, even when he glanced at Lazarus. Gabe decided Coach Owens was as good-natured and open as he’d always been.

      Blaine, of course, was a different story. He stood on the far edge of the field with a whistle in his mouth, his hands propped on his hips in a classic stance of “I’m the boss here.” He glared at Gabe for several long seconds, making Gabe feel even more self-conscious about getting his damn chair down onto the field. But Gabe refused to be intimidated by a man who couldn’t even manage his own temper. Gabe had seen Blaine toss players into lockers, throw a football at the back of a guy’s head, chuck a clipboard across the room. He’d even held Gabe’s head under water once, when Gabe had called an audible instead of running the play Blaine had sent out to him. It didn’t matter that Gabe had read the defense and knew Blaine’s play wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter that the change resulted in a touchdown pass that won the game and secured the team a spot in the play-offs. Everyone knew Blaine hadn’t called what Gabe ran, and Blaine didn’t like being upstaged.

      Considering Blaine’s lack of control, it was a miracle he still worked at Dundee High. Anywhere else in America he would have been sacked long ago. But his more violent outbursts had occurred back when teachers had a great deal more latitude. And he’d coached at Dundee High so long he seemed like a permanent fixture. In a town where everyone knew everyone else, firing Blaine felt too much like firing family.

      Gabe squinted against the sun to see the boys who had all turned expectantly toward him. Oddly enough, their faces were already streaked with dirt and sweat as if they’d been practicing for some time. “Am I late?” he asked, checking his watch, which indicated he wasn’t.

      Owens shifted from foot to foot and clasped his gnarled hands behind his back. “No, not really. It’s just that…well, Coach Blaine wanted to get an early start.”

      Gabe surveyed the forty or more athletes staring curiously back at him. “He called all these boys and told them to come to practice early?”

      Mopping the perspiration on his brow with the towel that hung around his neck, Owens cleared his throat. “Actually, we have a phone tree. He…um…had me start the phone tree.”

      “And no one thought to notify me?”

      Owens glanced across the field as if he wanted to ask Blaine what to say now. “I guess you’re not on the list yet.”

      “Put me on it,” Gabe said. “Put me right on top, because I’ll be the one to start the phone tree in the future.”

      “Sure, okay, Coach. Anything you say.”

      Evidently Blaine was already pushing to see what he could get away with. Gabe couldn’t give an inch, or he’d be looking at twice as much resistance later on.

      “Would you mind telling Coach Blaine I’d like a word with him, please?”

      Gabe could almost read Owens’s mind as his eyes once again darted toward the man in question. No doubt Owens was more than a little hesitant to become a target of Blaine’s temper. If Gabe quit or wound up fired, Blaine would most likely take over as head coach. Then Owens would be in a very difficult position.

      “Is there a problem, Coach?” Gabe asked when Owens didn’t move.

      “No,