We all laughed, and Betsy went to retrieve the full-length mirror from Molly’s room. More exclamations followed, and Amanda had to hand Molly a tissue. Jocelyn threatened bodily harm if tears came anywhere near the fabric.
“All right, get busy. Those bridesmaids’ dresses aren’t going to make themselves.” Jocelyn knelt in front of Molly, gathering the hem and pinning it in place.
I took out the dress I’d been working on and set up the sewing machine. Weddings inspired reflection in a lot of people besides the bride and groom. But the question knocking on my mind wasn’t one I wanted to entertain: Would I ever want to remarry?
12
Drew
First game of the season. It would be a coin toss to say who was more nervous, me or the kids.
I unwrapped another stick of gum and shoved it in my mouth, sending my jaw to work to expend some of the pent-up energy zooming through my body with nowhere to go.
Owen jogged across the field, the first player on the team to arrive. His smile stretched from endzone to endzone, shoulder pads to his chin and pads on his thighs making his legs look like they had some actual meat on their bones.
I held up my hand for a high five, and he slapped his palm against mine. “Ready?”
He pounded his chest with his helmet. “I’d like to see their rushers get past me.”
I ruffled his hair, rubbing my knuckles across his skull. “That’s what I like to hear.”
There was something I’d been wondering, and I knew the kids probably wouldn’t tell it to me straight, being an adult and the coach, but maybe they’d run their mouths when Eric and I weren’t around.
I slung my arm across Owen’s shoulders and drew him close. “Can I ask you something, man-to-man?”
His head tilted so he could look at me. “Sure, Uncle Drew.”
“What do the other players think about Sierra? Are they going to give her a fair shake?”
He pushed his mouth to the side and glanced at the ground. “Some of them don’t like having a girl on the team.”
I’d figured as much. Not sure how I would have felt at their age either. Girls had been nothing but cootie carriers, and I had to make circles and dots on my arm for my cootie shot. But I’d also wanted to be on winning teams… “Even with her arm?”
Owen looked across the field where Eric unfolded a camping chair. Ginny slowly descended, one hand supporting her belly, until she finally sat. “Mom said Sierra makes the saying ‘You throw like a girl’into a compliment.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “She also said the best type of man is the one that can support a girl and let her shine.”
My brows rose at the kid’s flushed cheeks.
“I don’t know why she said that,” Owen mumbled.
“Something to file away for later.” I leaned down to meet his eyes. “I’m going to let you in on another secret about being a man that some girls may not admit to.”
He shifted on his feet. Obviously, he’d rather talk about football than girls, but sometimes a team sport lesson applied to another area of life.
“Now, some girls like to say they’re independent and can take care of themselves.” An image of Nicole, head high and proud, entered my mind. “And it’s true; they are and they can. But just as a man needs to give a woman support to shine, he needs to protect her so no one else can blow out her light.”
Owen fiddled with his mouth guard.
I clapped my hand on his shoulder pad. “What I’m trying to say is to play your position. Block all those rushers, and don’t let anyone through. You’re the line of defense for our quarterback princess.”
My nephew’s wide smile returned. “No one will get past me. Don’t worry.” He lifted his helmet to point. “Here come Will and Maddox.”
Players from both teams trickled in. Families set up chairs along the sidelines to watch the game and cheer. Two refs in black-and-white stripes conversed near the middle of the field.
Sierra trotted over, fat black streaks under her eyes and twin braids dangling over her shoulder.
