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Neither of them commented on the fact that Gracie felt perfectly free to ask him for money for others, but still insisted on giving him part of her weekly paycheck, even though the money remained untouched in his desk drawer. She was proud of the fact that, by scrimping on her personal expenses, she would have the black cocktail dress he’d bought her paid off in time to wear it to the welcoming party at the country club the night before the golf tournament.
He got up from the side of the bed and began to pace across the end of the room. “Look, Gracie, I know I might have come on a little strong that night we had our argument, but you’ve got to understand Way Sawyer is a sensitive subject with me.”
She was surprised he’d reopened the subject. “I do understand that.”
“Still, I guess I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you. You were right about the fact that I need to talk to my mother; I realize that now. I’m going to do it as soon as I can get away tomorrow.”
“Good.” She was grateful that the estrangement between them finally seemed to be over.
“I guess you’ve been right about a lot of things.” Once again he walked over to the window and stared down into the back yard. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I miss football a lot, Gracie.”
She grew instantly more alert. This was hardly an earthshaking revelation to anyone who knew him, but the fact that Bobby Tom was actually admitting it astonished her. “I know you do.”
“It’s not fucking fair!” As he spun around, his features contorted with emotion. He was so agitated, he didn’t even seem to realize he’d used an obscenity in front of her, something he seldom did with a woman. “One bad hit and I’m out of the game forever! One bad fucking hit! If Jamal had caught me two seconds earlier or two seconds later, it wouldn’t have happened.”
She thought of the videotape and knew she’d never forget the sight of his gracefully extended body taking that damaging tackle.
He regarded her angrily, one hand clenched into a fist at his side. “I had three or four good years left. I was going to use that time to make plans for my retirement, to think about whether I wanted to coach or go into the broadcasting booth. I needed that time to get ready.”
“You’re a quick study,” she said softly. “You can still do those things.”
“But I don’t want to!” The words erupted from him, and she had the uncanny sense that they surprised him far more than they did her. His voice dropped until it was nearly a whisper. “Don’t you understand? I want to play ball.”
She nodded. She did understand.
His lips twisted in an ugly sneer. “I don’t know how you can stand to sit there and listen to me without wanting to throw up. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it, a grown man who’s got the whole world at his feet whining just because life handed him one bad break? I’ve got all the money in the world; I’ve got friends, houses, cars, but here I am feeling sorry for myself because I can’t play ball. If I were you, I’d be laughing half to death right now. If I were you, I’d head right over to the Wagon Wheel and tell everybody how Bobby Tom Denton’s been carrying on like a jerk so they can laugh, too.”
“It doesn’t seem funny to me.”
“Well, it should.” He gave a scornful snort. “You want to hear something really pitiful? I don’t have the slightest idea who I am anymore. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a football player, and now it seems I don’t know how to be anything else.”
She spoke softly. “I think you could be anything you set your mind to.”
“You don’t understand! If I can’t play ball, I don’t want to be part of the game. I can’t work up any enthusiasm for coaching, no matter how hard I try, and I sure as hell don’t want to sit up in some air-conditioned broadcasting booth making wisecracks for the folks at home.”
“You’ve got a lot more talents than just those.”
“I’m a ball player, Gracie! That’s what I’ve always been. That’s who I am.”
“Right now you’re an actor. What about your film career?”
“It’s all right. I wouldn’t even mind making another movie sometime, but no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I know my heart isn’t in it. It seems like play instead of work. And I keep thinking there’s nothing more pathetic in this world than a washed-up jock trying to be a movie star because he can’t do anything else.”
“I met you after your career was over, so I don’t think of you as a jock, washed-up or otherwise. And it’s hard to think of you as a movie star. To be honest, I’ve always regarded you more as a businessman than anything else. You obviously have a talent for making money, and you seem to enjoy doing it.”
“I do enjoy it, but there’s no honor in it for me. Maybe some people can be happy making money just for the sake of keeping score, but I’m not one of them. Life’s got to be about something more than buying bigger toys. I own too many things as it is. I don’t need another house, I don’t want another plane, and buying a few cars here and there doesn’t do much more than eat up my petty cash.”
Under other circumstances, his indignation might have made her smile, but he was too troubled for her to be amused. She thought of the times she’d walked into his office and seen him talking on the phone with his boots propped up on the desk and his Stetson pushed to the back of his head as he discussed the wisdom of investing in a new bond issue or buying pork bellies on the commodities market.
She rose from the floor and walked over to stand beside him. “The fact is, Bobby Tom, you love making money, and there are lots of honorable things you could do with it other than buy bigger toys,
as you put it. I know how much you care about children. Instead of letting women threaten you with paternity suits, why don’t you do something more far-reaching for kids without fathers. Set up scholarship funds or day-care centers; open some food pantries. Or how about upgrading the medical equipment in the pediatric wing of the county hospital you like to visit? There’s a whole world of need out there, and you’re in a unique position to help. Football’s given you a lot. Maybe it’s pay-back time.”
He stared at her, not saying a word.
“I’ve had an idea. I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but . . . Why don’t you think about setting up a charitable foundation? You could make money for the foundation instead of yourself?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I’m talking about running it as a full-time job, not a rich man’s toy, using your talent for something that will make a difference in people’s lives.”
“That’s crazy.”
