"I know," she says, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. "But Whitney's made her decision."
"She's made the wrong decision!" I fume, turning in the front lawn to face her. "She's thinking with her fear instead of her mind and her heart! I know all the things Whit said to me were true, but that doesn't mean she and I can't be together. It doesn't mean I don't love her, or that . . . dammit, Patricia, I want to marry her! It doesn’t mean that there’s a flip side to everything she said—Laurie needs a father.”
Patricia nods and puts a comforting hand on my shoulders. "Five years ago, I let my hurt and fear keep you from contacting Whitney when you should have been able to. And, I'll admit, maybe a few old-fashioned ideas about a small town scandal flavored my thinking too. I made the wrong decision then, and in my opinion, Whitney's making the wrong decision now. But I also know my daughter. She's as stubborn and hard headed as her mother. I can't change her mind, but I will see what I can do. It's all I can offer."
I nod. "I guess that'll have to do, then. Is she at home?"
Patricia shakes her head. "She took Laurie to Vancouver for the day. She heard through Dani that today is your last day in town, and she thought you might stop by. Troy, she loves you, I know that. She's running because she's hurt and scared. Give her time. Your love survived five years and the Atlantic Ocean. I think it can survive the Southern Division."
I nod again. "All right. Listen, if I send you some packages, stuff for Laurie, can you hold onto them until Whitney's ready to let Laurie have them?"
Patricia nods. "I will. I don't want to be a jerk, or to be a moocher like your father was, but what about, you know?"
“It’s just some financial help. Whitney is, like you said, hard headed, and I know she’ll probably try not to accept it, even though she finally agreed that she would.”
Patricia nods, then gives me a hug. "You take care of yourself, Troy. Oh, and one more thing. Don't sell the Silver Lake Falls house. Who knows, maybe you three can live in it sometime in the future?"
I return the hug. "Thanks, Patricia. I guess I should go though. I gotta catch a United flight to Jacksonville. Movers already came by and packed up the basics I need. I'll still be living out of a hotel room for a few days though."
"You'll do fine, Troy. Just remember what's important, and play with your heart. It'll lead them back to you."
"Troy, it's good to meet you. I'm Eric Morgan, your new head coach."
Coach Morgan is younger than my head coach on the Hawks, and while we've never met before, he's got a youthful, energetic vibe to him that at least partially lifts the cloud that's been over my feelings for the past three days.
"It's good to meet you too, Coach. Thanks for coming to the airport."
"Don't mention it," he said. "By the way, I also double as the defensive coordinator, so you and I are going to be working together a lot for the rest of the year. Did you watch any tape of us so far this season?"
"Just a little bit—your pre-season game against the Dons. But it was the first pre-season game, so you know how that is. Everyone looks pretty rough."
"Well, I'm not going to lie to you. We're still looking pretty rough on the defensive side of the ball. We've got a playmaker or two, and a scheme that I think you’ll like. But what I'm looking for is a leader and someone to energize my defense. I think you're that sort of guy. Now, if you've had the chance to listen to the media, they say we're in a rebuilding mode. I say that they're full of shit. We're going to turn things around starting in a week and a half. You're going to be leading that turn around on the defensive side of the ball."
Well, it could be worse. I'm being handed an opportunity, and Coach is enthusiastic about me playing for him. "All right, let's see what we can do."
"Great!" he says. We reach his Jeep, and he helps me put my bags in the back of the SUV, closing the gate before I go around and get into the shotgun seat. He starts up the engine, and we pull out and get on the freeway toward Jacksonville. "By the way, I know you're on a super-short timeline, so when we get to the stadium, I'm going to introduce you to your relocation assistance team."
"My what?"
Coach gives me a smile and a nod, knowing it sounds ridiculous. "Relocation assistance team, and please don't call them the RATs—they hate that. Until your first home game, you'll have a personal assistant, along with a real estate agent, et cetera to make sure that when you step on the field for us next Sunday, you're as settled in personally as you want to be. Are you thinking of renting or buying?"
"I was thinking of renting at first . . . nothing too fancy but not in a bad neighborhood either. Think there are options?"
"You're going to like it here in Jacksonville," Coach replies. "By the way, what do you want your hot name to be?"