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“Why don’t you come to practice?” Kirk delivered the alternative that his instincts were telling him would finish this off. “See what we’re doing, what Brian’s doing. Watch him on the court with the other boys. And then make your decision.”
She glanced at her watch. Flipped a curl over her shoulder. Met his gaze.
“Okay.”
He wasn’t surprised—had known she’d capitulate. And hated that he’d known. Hated that he could so easily manipulate people. Perhaps Steve McDonald h
ad made a mistake when he’d given Kirk this opportunity to fulfill his promise to his daughter.
“But I’m going to be watching closely, Mr. Chandler.”
“I hope so.”
Kirk suspected he didn’t just mean her son’s behavior on the basketball court.
And he suspected she didn’t, either.
VALERIE FOLLOWED the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing balls thundering up and down hard-wood to the gymnasium that afternoon. At four o’clock she was later than she’d wanted to be, but a calendar she’d expected to be light had run longer than she’d anticipated. She’d missed the first hour of practice.
Kirk Chandler looked over as she slid in the side door and walked softly on her two-inch navy pumps to the row of bleachers pulled out from the wall. She tucked her dress beneath her and sat. Other than nodding acknowledgment, he didn’t miss a beat, blowing a whistle and yelling at the boys to pass.
“Dribble! Pass!” he hollered again and again as the boys went repeatedly through a pattern spread out in pairs across the gym floor.
She spotted both twins immediately. Their black curly hair made them easily distinguishable, even though they were dressed just like every other twelve-year-old boy there. In the middle of the room, Blake faced a boy who was half a foot taller, but somehow managed to keep the ball from the other player as he dribbled. It was the footwork, just as Chandler had said.
“Good, Brian,” Chandler called out. “Nice pass.”
Brian was on the end. Partnered with—Abraham Billings.
Almost instantly, Valerie was transported outside herself, outside the experience, detached. There was a gym. Boys at practice. Her sons working hard.
As far as she’d been aware, her boys didn’t know Abraham. Not that she’d asked. She didn’t bring her work home with her.
And in her year on the bench, she hadn’t run into even one of her kids outside the courtroom.
“Eduardo, like this!” Chandler palmed a basketball and dribbled quickly, showing the boy how to control the ball. He watched as the young man tried it himself. “That’s better!” he said, moving down the row.
Eduardo had been at a last-day-of-school swim party the boys had held one Saturday the previous May.
“Good footwork, Blake. Now watch Shane’s ball-handling. Shane, you watch Blake’s feet.”
Valerie observed. Assessed.
And waited.
During the last fifteen minutes of the hour, Kirk Chandler split the boys into two teams and let them scrimmage with each other while he walked up and down the sidelines taking notes and yelling out to them. Only encouragement at that point—earning him Valerie’s begrudging admiration. This was the man from the crossing corner. Compassionate. Dedicated to the children he was there to serve.
Abraham Billings was everywhere. He made more shots than any of the other boys combined.
When practice ended, the entire squad gathered around their coach, faces eager, all eyes pinned on the man before them, all ears tuned to whatever he was saying. The gym was silent except for the hum of his voice. He was grinning, nodding and sweating as much as any of them. Fair in all her judgments, Valerie had to admit that from what she’d seen, Kirk Chandler was a good coach. Maybe even a great one.
And after watching the time and effort he’d spent on her son, she was fairly confident Brian would get his place on the team.
She met her boys at the side of the court as they walked off with the coach after everyone else had left through the far door of the gym.
Brian, lagging behind the other two, with his dark curly hair plastered to the sides of his head, looked from his mother to Kirk Chandler and grinned.
“So I’m on the team, too?” he asked Chandler.
