LITMIR.BIZ

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the top of her book, Hannah saw thirtyish Shirley Erman crane her head around even though Ashleigh Evans was trying to put perm rods in her hair. Saturdays were always busy at the beauty shop. “He’s been living like a hermit for three years,” she said. “Then, suddenly, he’s the new coach of the varsity football team? I mean, I hate that Coach Hill passed away, but I think it’s great Gabe’s willing to take over.”

      Hannah agreed. In her opinion, Gabe needed to feel passionate about something again, to regain his zest for life. But she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she wanted to draw attention to herself and suffer through that awkward moment when the others realized that she—the person who’d ended his career—was sitting only a few feet away.

      “He’ll do a good job.” Rebecca Hill was giving Trudy a short jagged cut that looked far too Vogue for a little town in Idaho, but that was the beauty of Rebecca. She was artistic and dramatic, and she followed her heart. Since marrying Mike’s brother a few years ago, she’d grown slightly more conservative, especially since the birth of their baby. But she’d never be plain or boring. And her salon reflected that. Gone was the faded candy-cane-striped wallpaper and pale pink vinyl of the beauty parlor Hannah remembered from her childhood. Now the salon was decorated in black and white and chrome, had a checkered floor, sleek, contemporary lighting, and vases filled with exotic flowers. Recently, Rebecca had even changed the name. After she’d remodeled and expanded to include facials, electrolysis, massage and aromatherapy, Hair and Now had become Shear Temptation. Located next to an old-fashioned drugstore on one side, and a redbrick bank on the other, Shear Temptation looked like a spaceship parked between two Model T’s.

      “Being a good player doesn’t make someone a good coach,” a voice nearby responded.

      A quick peek around her book told Hannah that Deborah Wheeler, one of Coach Blaine’s daughters, had made that comment from a seat in the waiting area closer to the front desk.

      Hannah had been so absorbed in trying to go unnoticed that she hadn’t seen Deborah come in. She lowered her cookbook. “Being a good player doesn’t make someone a bad coach,” she said, rushing to Gabe’s defense in spite of herself. Now that he was venturing back into society, she wanted to make sure he received the support he deserved.

      Everyone’s gaze momentarily fixed on her. She waited for someone to mention the accident but, thankfully, nobody did.

      “I just want what’s good for Gabe,” Shirley said, turning back to Deborah. “If coaching will give him fresh purpose, I’m all for it.”

      “Even if he’s not cut out for the job?” Deborah countered.

      “Even if he doesn’t win very much,” Shirley said. “My husband might disagree, but I say we can’t expect every season to be as good as the last few. Gabe needs this.”

      Deborah had a thin, angular face. Now she pursed her lips as though it tried her patience to deal with folks obviously less educated than herself. She taught Honors English at the high school and acted as if she knew everything. Some of the ladies in town made fun of her, but she had her admirers. “Gabe doesn’t need this job,” she said. “He made millions while he was playing football. And anyway, no one should get a coaching position out of pity.”

      Hannah opened her mouth to say that with a record like Gabe’s he’d hardly landed the job on pity, but Rebecca answered before she could. “Pity has nothing to do with it! Gabe’s well-qualified.”

      Deborah shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

      “What’s not to understand?” Hannah asked.

      “Think about it.” She set her magazine on the table. “Making Gabe head coach places him in a position where he has everything to lose and nothing to gain. He doesn’t need the money from the job—”

      “This isn’t about money,” Rebecca interrupted.

      “—and if the team wins, so what? We’ve won plenty of times in the past without him.” She tilted her head at a jaunty angle. “But let’s look at what happens if the Spartans have a bad season. Now there’s a story. Poor, crippled Gabe Holbrook takes on his old high school team, a team with a winning season nearly twenty years in a row,” she was careful to emphasize, “only to watch them lose again and again. Which could happen. He’s an untried entity. So my question is this—do we really want to risk seeing Gabe fall any farther off his pedestal? The accident nearly destroyed him. What’s he going to do if he fails at this?”

      Hannah suspected Deborah was actually more afraid Gabe would succeed. “He won’t fail,” she said.

      Deborah folded her arms across her nearly flat chest. “You don’t know that.”

      “I, for one, am proud of him for trying,” Shirley said. “People who won’t attempt something for fear of failing, cripple themselves. At least Gabe’s not doing that. His handicap was caused by an outside source.”

      Deborah’s eyes seemed to slice right through Hannah. “You should know all about that, right, Hannah?”

      Hannah clenched her jaw. Deborah certainly wasn’t perfect. She’d had an affair with the band teacher at Dundee High four years ago, which had caused a small scandal and broken up two marriages. From what Hannah had heard, Deborah had regretted her actions almost immediately and tried to win her husband back, but he’d refused to reconcile. Hannah knew she could point to that mistake and say, “Everyone lives with some regret, Deborah.”

      But what was the point? Deborah hadn’t stripped a man of his ability to walk. Hannah’s sin was far worse, and the guilt she felt wouldn’t allow her to defend herself. If only she hadn’t tried to pass on that curve….

      Rebecca spoke up. “That was beneath even you, Deborah.”

      “This isn’t about the past,” Shirley added in a conciliatory tone. “It’s about the future. We, as a community, need to stand behind Gabe.”

      “Why?” Deborah cried, jumping to her feet. “Why is he any different from the rest of us? If I got in a car accident and was put in a wheelchair, do you think this community would do anything for me? No! Because I’m not some hotshot football player. Just because he can throw a ball eighty yards doesn’t make him any better than anyone else,” she said and stormed out.

      Hannah turned to watch Deborah flounce down the street toward her car. Shirley joined her at the window. “I heard she wanted Gabe,” she mused. “But I didn’t believe it until now.”

      “Do you think he rejected her?” Ashleigh asked. Still unmarried, Ashleigh generally kept tabs on every available man in town and sounded put out that something might have occurred that she didn’t know about.

      Trudy rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”

      Shirley ignored Trudy’s sarcasm. “He must have.”

      Hannah set the cookbook on the seat next to her. “Deborah was in my graduating class. She had a crush on him way back then, but so did a lot of girls.”

      “I bet he’s never even looked at her,” Shirley said. “Probably the only thing that made her think she finally had a chance with him was that wheelchair. Otherwise, he’d be so out of reach it’d be like crying for the moon.”

      Hannah wasn’t sure that rejection was the reason for Deborah’s sniping. Probably had more to do with her father not getting the position as head coach. But Hannah could certainly understand why Blaine’s daughter might find Gabe attractive. There probably wasn’t a woman in town who hadn’t fantasized about him. He was strong, talented, intelligent and handsome. Really handsome.

      Remembering the look in his eyes yesterday, that brief flash of something powerful and erotic, gave Hannah the same fluttery expectation she felt on a roller coaster as it climbed the highest hill.

      There were times she wanted him herself.

      But even if he could forgive her, she doubted he’d ever be able to forget what she’d cost him.

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