Zaid finally met his eyes. Seth had seen that expression before. In the mirror. When he was about the same age. Half boy, half man. Shoulders too small to carry the weight placed upon them but determined not to be crushed. “You are Coach, not my father. I am here for football. Let’s play.”
Seth heard the unspoken message. Zaid needed the distraction of the ball. Feet in motion, anger leaving the body and watering the grass through his sweat. He needed to realign his mind. Command a piece of his life he was in control of.
Football had given Seth that, and he could share the gift with Zaid. He blew his whistle. “You heard Zaid. Let’s play.”
Everyone ran onto the field but Yosef.
“Something on your mind you want to share?” Seth asked.
Yosef looked out over the pitch, his focus on Zaid. “Things have been hard. More so lately. Like someone has added more wood to the fire. Hotter every day. In our school. The community.” He looked down at his shoes. “It is not just toward us, those who are new to this country. Even people who have been here most of their lives or were born here…they feel this heat too. Because of how we look. How we worship.”
Seth held still. What would Justin say to this boy? Or Amber. One of them should be here. They’d have the words he didn’t. They were stronger in their faith. Had been Christians for a lot longer than he had.
“There are pages on Facebook and other social media sites that spread lies and fear about us.” Yosef looked at him then, his face a contortion of inner pain. “Why do people hate me, Coach? Why do they want to hurt me when I have done nothing to them?”
Seth wrapped his arm around Yosef’s slim shoulders. What could he say? He didn’t have an answer. Didn’t really think there was one. “I don’t know, Yosef. I don’t know.” He watched as Zaid dribbled the ball between two defensive players, lined up the ball, then drove it into the back of the net. “Sometimes hate can be rooted in fear.”
Yosef looked at him with his brows drawn. Seth could practically read his thoughts. Who needed to fear a fourteen-year-old kid?
“I don’t know what the Qur’an says, but the Bible teaches that there is no fear in love; that perfect love casts out fear. It also says something even harder, if you can believe it. To love your enemies. Do good to people who hate you. Bless those who curse you.”
Yosef nodded slowly. “This is hard, as you say. But the Qur’an does agree. It says to repel evil with good, and he who is your enemy will become your dearest friend.” He was quiet a second, watching Zaid. “Do you think this will work? People will stop hating us if we love harder.”
Seth wanted to say yes, but people were people. Didn’t always matter what a person did, people would believe whatever they wanted. Instead of lying, he patted Yosef on the back. “Why don’t you go join the game before it’s time to head in for tutoring.”
Yosef jogged onto the pitch and shouted for the ball to be passed to him. Seth walked toward his bag. Whether Zaid wanted anyone to know or not, someone had to be told about his beating. Ben would know what to do. Who to contact.
He retrieved his cell and the screen lit up with a touch. A missed call from Leon McCallister. What did his coach want? Tapping on the icon, he held the phone to his ear to listen to the voice message.
“I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing, Marshall, but I’m not amused. Whether the report I read in the red top this morning is true or not, you need to get yourself together and back to England.
“What do you think this is, American football? Neither the owner nor I appreciate the club name being dragged through the mud this way. My players need to be above reproach, or at the very least, smart enough not to get caught and plastered across the tabloid’s front page. Davie and the rest of the team are in Vegas. Are they acting like angels? I highly doubt it. They were the ones I was worried about. Not you. Especially not after your so-called conversion.”
It sounded like he pulled the phone away and swore lightly.“Just get back here and maybe we can do some damage control. Or better yet, hire your own paparazzo to take pictures of you with those refugee kids. Those bleeding-heart fans will eat that up and forget about that Virgin Mary you’ve been distracted with.”The message ended with a click, a shot to Seth’s heart.
He stood there stunned. The kids erupted in cheers on the field, and he tried to clear the fog from his brain and focus on their shouting.
“Coach, did you see?” Salma glowed. “I score, Coach. First time.”
Seth forced his lips upward. Pushed back the questions and confusion and worry Leon’s message had stirred up inside him. He focused on Salma and pumped his fist in the air. Celebrate the small victories, he’d told them. Look ahead. Don’t focus on the negatives of the moment, because even if you’re down, the game could always turn in your favor during the second half.
Salma ran back to her position of midfielder.
That’s what this was. The reporter had made a strategic goal, but the game wasn’t over. He hoped Amber didn’t throw him a red card and eject him from the game, but even if she did, he wouldn’t give up. He’d respect her decisions and back off. But the season wasn’t over. There’d be another game, and when there was, he’d make sure he won her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Holy Roman Empire, 1527
“Prithee, princess, it is not too late to recant.” Hette stood before Christyne, her hand clutching at her rosary. “The Bishop will know your mind, will he not? When you stand before him? He will know, and then you and my brother will be lost to this world forever.” She sniffed, the beads twisting around her fingers.
“Only God can see the heart of man, Hette.”
The maid hung her head. “Nikolaus would not be persuaded either. I fear you both will be imprisoned in purgatory before being cast into the flames of Hades.”
Christyne reached over and squeezed Hette’s arm. “Your concern warms me, but you must fear not. All will be well.”
Of this she was not certain. How could she be, when heretic hunters stalked the castle halls, bent on destroying any they could grasp in their clutches?
