Between Sundays Page 15

  “Come on, old man.” Aaron held up a basketball in Derrick’s direction. Then he passed it to Lonnie, who passed it to Larry. “Let’s go two-on-two.”

  “Yeah, Daddy.” Libby looked up from her homework. She had her legs curled up beneath her, and she wore an oversized USC sweatshirt. “I love when you play basketball.”

  Derrick made a funny face at his daughter. He felt like Bill Cosby. “You like when I play basketball?”

  She giggled. “Football too. It’s just you don’t play basketball that much anymore.”

  “Well, young lady…” He walked past her toward the court. “I guess I’ll have to change that.”

  Again she giggled, and the sound made his heart soar. He loved having a daughter, loved the way she adored him. She always said that one day she’d marry a man just like him. If she wanted him to play more basketball, he would. But there was no way he was playing two-on-two right now. He might be getting around without a limp, but the pain in his knee was still constant. He couldn’t risk a worse injury in a pickup game.

  For that matter, Aaron couldn’t either.

  He reached the court and moved just inside the fence. “Don’t tell me your contract lets you play hoops during the season.” Derrick raised his eyebrows at his teammate. “I know mine don’t.”

  “Ah, come on.” Aaron’s grin proved he’d been caught. Of course, his contract forbid pickup games during the season. “You’re just afraid.”

  Derrick pointed to himself and let his mouth hang open. “Me?” he mouthed the word. Then he wagged his finger in the air. “Au contraire.” He added a French accent for effect. “I don’t need a pickup game to beat you at B-ball.” He held his hands out and caught a pass from Larry. He was outside the three-point line, but he eyed the basket, launched the ball, and swished it.

  “Nice, Dad.” Lonnie grabbed the ball and passed it to Aaron.

  Derrick tipped an invisible hat toward Aaron. “You got something to say about that?”

  “Yeah. Step back.” Aaron waved him out of the way. He took aim and shot an air ball, one that missed even the backboard by a foot.

  “Oooh…” Derrick studied his teammate with an exaggerated look of concern. “Sorry, man. Did you think we were shooting left hand?”

  “That’s an H, and I don’t mean for Hill.” Lonnie ran after the ball and took a shot from the corner. When it swished, all four of them shouted their approval, and the game grew competitive quickly. Larry got the letters in HORSE first, and then Lonnie. Derrick and Aaron were neck and neck for the last five shots, until finally Derrick shot a basic free throw, underhanded.

  “How’s that from an old man.”

  Aaron shook his head and grabbed the ball off the ground. “Doesn’t get any more old-school than that.” He dribbled the ball to the free-throw line, set his feet apart, and swung the ball back between his legs and up toward the hoop. The ball ricocheted around the rim, bouncing three times before popping out to the side.

  “Dad wins!” Lonnie raised both fists in the air. “Way to go, Dad.”

  “Good try.” Larry patted Aaron on the back.

  “Yeah,” his grin showed his defeat. “Remind me to come over every week. I usually need to file taxes to get this sort of abuse.”

  The boys launched into a half-court game of one-on-one, and Derrick and Aaron walked across the yard and up a slope to the rock fence at the far end. They sat on it and stared at the ocean beyond.

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. “You can see halfway to Hawaii.”

  “We love it.” He looked over his shoulder at the boys. “I plan to watch the kids grow up in this yard.”

  A comfortable silence settled over them. In the distance, a jet flew over the bay. Derrick was grateful for the laughter and the game of HORSE. But that wasn’t why Aaron wanted to talk to him. Something was changing just the slightest bit in his heart, Derrick could sense it. He found a softer tone with none of the teasing from earlier. “So…about the boy’s letter.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” Aaron kept his eyes on the view. “Kid thinks I’m his dad. I mean, how crazy is that?”

  Another possibility entered Derrick’s mind. “It’s not the pretty foster mom, is it? Trying to get money from you?”

  “Hardly.” Something softened in Aaron’s eyes. “I think she’s a little baffled by the boy’s thoughts too. Her name’s Megan, the foster mom. Maybe she’s waiting to see how I’ll handle it.”

  “That’s heavy stuff.”

  “Yeah.” His voice grew distant. “I don’t know if it’s meeting all those foster kids or what, but…I don’t know. I feel crummy lately.” He pulled one leg up onto the rock wall and circled his knee with his arms. “And my agent’s bugging me. Pushing more than usual.”

  “What about this Megan?”

  Aaron started to say something and then stopped. A frustrated groan came from him and he shook his head. “She turned me down. She knew I lied about the kid’s letter, about reading it.”

  “Hmmm. Not good.”

  “No. It’s a bad time to feel like things aren’t going right. I need to be at the top of my game, you know?”

  “Either you or me.” Derrick allowed a smile into his voice.

  “Yeah. I guess.” Aaron laughed, but it sounded tense. “You know how many girls I’ve been with, Derrick?”

  “Lots.” This wasn’t the time for a funny line. Derrick’s soul ached for the emptiness he was sensing in his teammate.

  “A whole lot.” He narrowed his eyes and looked deep at Derrick. Deeper than ever before. “But not one of them ever made me smile the way you smiled when Denae walked into the room.”

  “So maybe this is the year.” Derrick patted Aaron’s back. He stood and nodded at Aaron to follow him.

  “The year?”

  “Yeah.” Derrick tossed him a smile over his shoulder. “The year you figure it out.”

  They went inside and took the tray of chicken out to the barbecue. Lonnie and Larry stayed nearby, getting pointers on the fine art of grilling chicken. When they were seated around the table, Derrick said the prayer.

  “Father, we thank You for this food and the hands that prepared it. The female hands.”

  “Got that right,” Denae muttered.

  A few giggles sounded from around the table, and Derrick cleared his throat. “Seriously, God, we’re grateful for all You’ve given us, and for the love You’ve blessed us with. We ask that Aaron would take a little bit of that love home with him tonight. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  Derrick wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe Aaron was a little pensive after the prayer. If he was, he didn’t stay that way for long. Dinner was a blur of one-liners and extra helpings and the sort of warmth that marked every day Derrick spent with his family. Throughout the meal, he would catch Aaron mid-bite, his fork in his hand, studying the kids and Denae and the way they interacted with each other.

  God, You’re touching his heart, aren’t You? Right before my eyes. A shiver ran down Derrick’s spine, and he tried to imagine what the Lord was doing in Aaron’s life and how that process must’ve been directly connected to Derrick’s decision to play for the 49ers. It was more than he could get his mind around.

  After dinner, when the kids were busy with the dishes, Derrick and Aaron walked out to the upstairs balcony. From there, the view was breathtaking—especially with the setting sun.

  “Man, how do you ever leave?” Aaron sat on one of the cushioned patio chairs.

  Derrick took the one next to him. “The view?”

  “All of it.” He allowed a single laugh, one that expressed his amazement. “Your family’s like something from a TV show. I didn’t have a single meal like that one when I was a kid.”

  “We’re blessed.” Derrick used the word on purpose. Because luck had nothing to do with the evening Aaron had just shared in.

  “I’d say so.” Aaron leaned over and dug his elbows into his knees.

  Just watching him made Derrick cringe. Wi
th great care, he lifted his right leg up and rested it on the footstool.

  “You’re a churchgoer, aren’t you?” Aaron craned his neck and stared at him. “I mean, you talk about God, but it’s more than talk for you, right?”

  “It is.” He felt a surge of joy. He’d prayed for this chance, this opportunity to help Aaron see that faith in Christ was the only way to tackle the emptiness. “My family and I go to a Vineyard church in the city. Meets Saturday night and Sunday mornings. Rockin’ choir…big potluck dinners. Lots of ways for the kids to stay involved.” He nodded. “And preachin’ right from the Good Book. Every week I learn something.”

  “What about when we’re on the road?”

  “During the season, I go when I can make it. But Denae’s there with the kids. The stability’s good for ’em.”

  Aaron squinted at the setting sun. “So you believe the whole story, God made the earth and sent His son, the crucifixion and resurrection. All of it?”

  “I do.” He pictured Lee, the way he’d looked that day in the hospital. “Even in the worst of times.”

  They were quiet, both of them focused on the sun as it dropped beneath the horizon, casting brilliant rays of light across the Pacific. In the glow of pinks and pale blues, Aaron turned to him once more. “Tell me about the family picture. What happened to the fourth kid?”

  The pain in Derrick’s knee was nothing to the sudden ache in his heart. He pressed his lips together. “You notice more than you let on.”

  “Sometimes.”

  Derrick sucked back a long breath. If telling the story about Lee would help Aaron understand faith, help him get a picture of what it was to truly believe, then he would tell it now. No matter how much it hurt. “It was seven years ago. October. My tenth season in the NFL.”

  Aaron shifted slightly in his chair, his attention completely on Derrick. The look on his face said he hadn’t meant to bring up something too deep, too personal. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s okay. Sometimes it’s good to go back.” Derrick steadied himself and the years rolled away. “I was boarding a plane in Dallas that Sunday night after a game against the Cowboys, when my phone rang. The flight attendant was saying something about shutting off our cell phones, but I took the call. Denae was on the other end, hysterical.”

  He could hear her still, the way her voice sounded frantic, desperate. “Derrick, it’s Lee…it’s our baby, Derrick. Dear God, it’s Lee…”

  All around him players were chatting about the game and positioning their airline pillows and buckling their seatbelts. But Derrick was trying to catch his breath. “Denae, baby, calm down.” He placed his hand around his mouth so his teammates wouldn’t hear him. “I can’t understand you, baby. Talk to me.”

  “Someone ran the red, Derrick. Dear God, no.” She let out a loud wail, one that echoed in his heart still today. “I need you, Derrick. Please. Dear God, not my baby. No!”

  Derrick could feel his heartbeat double, and for a moment he considered tearing down the aisle and getting off the plane. But then he realized that would be crazy. He couldn’t get to Denae any faster by leaving his seat. Instead he gripped the phone as tightly as he could. “Is there…is there someone else around? Someone I can talk to?”

  She was still weeping, but she must’ve heard him, because she handed the phone to a man with a calm, professional-sounding voice. “Hello, this is Doctor Lander. Is this Derrick Anderson?”

  “It is.” His heart slammed against his chest and panic choked him. “What happened?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson. There’s been an accident. A speeding car ran a red light and broadsided your wife’s van. We’ve checked out your wife and oldest three children. They’re all fine.”

  Get to the point, Derrick wanted to scream. What about Lee? “Our…youngest?”

  “He took a severe blow to the head. He’s in critical condition.” The doctor’s voice was heavy. “You need to get here as soon as possible.”

  No, God, please not Lee. Derrick closed his eyes and bent over his lap. He pictured Lee, jumping into his arms as he left for the airport the day before the game. “Daddy, I love you…” Please, God, not little Lee. He found his voice. “I’m on my way. Please…put my wife back on.”

  Denae was still sobbing when she came back on the phone. “Pray, Derrick. I can’t…I can’t lose my baby.”

  The flight attendant could sense something was very wrong. She didn’t ask him again about his phone, but the plane was moving. Derrick promised he would pray and then he hung up and turned off his cell. Nearly four hours later when they landed in Chicago, Derrick took a Town Car straight to the hospital.

  The story was always difficult, but Derrick hadn’t realized till now that there were tears on his cheeks. He swiped the backs of his hands across his face. “He was still conscious when I reached his room. The other kids were huddled on the floor against one wall, crying. Denae was standing by the bed, holding Lee’s hand.”

  Derrick’s breath caught in his throat, the way it always did when he allowed himself to go back to that horrific moment. His eyes fell on Lee, the way his head and face were swollen. At that point, Derrick didn’t know his son’s prognosis, but he didn’t need a doctor to tell him the situation was grave. He hurried to the side of the bed and tenderly, carefully, he took hold of his son’s other hand. “Baby…Daddy’s here.”

  Lee blinked slowly, the blink of heavy sedation. “Daddy?”

  Sorrow flooded Derrick’s heart and soul and he struggled to speak. “Jesus is with you, Lee. Everything’s going to be okay.” His words were as much for himself as they were for his son.

  Across the bed, Denae met his eyes. Tears were streaming down her face and she shook her head. “It’s not good,” she mouthed. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, released Lee’s hand, and turned so he wouldn’t see her break down. After a minute, she motioned for Derrick to follow her.

  An ocean breeze washed across his face and he looked at Aaron. His teammate was gripped by the story, stunned by it. Derrick sat up straighter in his chair. “The news was worse than I imagined.” Derrick’s voice was distant, lost back in that long ago fall. “You know, you figure he’s talking, he’s coherent. He must be okay.” Derrick shook his head. “He wasn’t.”

  Denae led him into the hall and she collapsed in his arms. “He’s bleeding,” her face twisted in a gut-wrenching sorrow capable only from a parent losing a child. She fought for her voice. “Doctor says he can’t stop it. Blood’s coming from too many areas.”

  For the first time that awful night, anger sliced through Derrick’s grief. “So what? We’re supposed to stand by and watch him die?” All his life Derrick had tackled adversity, as a high school player at a school where black kids were looked at with disdain by alumni, and at college when he had to battle for a starting position. He worked hard for his success, every touchdown pass, and dollar earned. Always Derrick believed a person had control over his destiny.

  But not here, not in a hospital room.

  The panic was back, and suddenly Derrick didn’t want to debate Lee’s prognosis in a cold, sterile hallway. He wanted to be in the room beside his boy, holding his hand. And that’s what he did. He kissed Denae’s tears and then returned to Lee’s side.

  The media touched on the story of Lee’s death, but no one but Denae and the kids knew about the part that came next. Aaron Hill wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a close friend, not yet, anyway. But if he was the reason God moved Derrick to San Francisco, then he’d tell the story.

  He massaged the muscles above his right knee. “We had one more conversation, me and Lee.” His voice was choked with a hurt that was never far from the surface.

  He reached the boy’s side and took his hand again. “How’re you doing, little man? You hanging in there?”

  Lee squinted at him. “Daddy?” He clung tight to Derrick’s fingers. “My head hurts.”

  “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” He felt more helpless
than ever in all his life. God, no…not Lee. Stop the bleeding, please. “What can I do, baby?”

  For a few seconds, Lee was quiet. Then his little boy smile lit up his swollen face. “Win…a Super Bowl, Daddy!…Okay?”

  The statement was the strangest thing. Lee had only recently become aware of Derrick’s status, the fact that he’d won two championships. A few weeks before the accident, Lee asked to see his rings, the rings he kept in a bedroom drawer. Derrick had showed him, and Lee had done his own figuring. One ring for Larry, one for Lonnie, so now all he needed to do was win one for Lee.

  Derrick had asked him about Libby, but Lee wrinkled his nose. “Girls don’t care about Super Bowl rings, Daddy. That’s for boys.”

  And now, with his brain bleeding uncontrollably, his youngest son remembered.

  Derrick bent over the hospital bed, and with his free hand, he ran his knuckles over the boy’s swollen cheek. “A Super Bowl, baby? That’s what you want?”

  A tired little laugh breezed across his lips. “Yeah. You’re gonna…win it all, Daddy! The…Super Bowl.” His words were scratchy and strained, his eyes barely able to stay open.

  Tears blurred his vision, but Derrick did the only thing he could do. He lifted his boy’s hand to his face and tried to hold on, tried to will life and healing into him. Then in a rush of determination unlike any he’d ever felt before, he nodded. “Okay, little man. I’ll win it all.”

  “For me.” Lee’s breathing was getting worse, shallow and weak. “Win it…for me, Daddy. Like…we talked about.”

  “I will, baby. I promise.”

  Derrick had heard about cases where a dying person had one last shining moment, the final flicker of a fading fire. For Lee, that moment happened then. His expression lit up once more. “Daddy…” his eyelids opened wider than before. He looked like an angel, his eyes bright with childlike love. He patted Derrick’s hand, soft and tender. “You’re…my best friend.”