Chapter 46

During the rest of the week the group got along wonderfully. Marie left for Scottsdale a couple of days after Christmas, but promised to return frequently for visits. Lexi and Timothy stayed glued to my side for the next few days. Timothy rarely let me out of his sight, and Lexi was a welcomed addition.

The Crawfords (Suzette had changed her name back when Doug filed for divorce) were planning to depart on Jan. 1. Lexi had to be back at school on the second, but I think she was planning to miss the first day back. As we sat watching the NFL wild-card playoffs — I wanted to see something about the next team I'd play — Suzette and Bailey were chattering away on the couch.

Lexi wasn't a big football fan — really no one in the house was except for Jill and Sara — but she asked pretty good questions about the game and why the players were doing what they were doing. Since she and Timothy were sharing my lap, I couldn't complain.

I was mostly watching the defenses and it constantly aggravated me that the cameras would focus almost entirely on the offense unless the defense did something spectacular, so I was listening to snippets of conversation around me.

Sara and Jill were discussion how badly the Cardinals would beat whoever we played next week and Amelie and Beth were talking about the upcoming trip to Hawaii in February. But it was Suzette and Bailey I was listening to most intently. They were talking in hushed tones, and any time in the past Bailey had done that, something major had soon happened.

Suzette was talking about Sandusky and Cedar Point. That much I could make out. And both were smiling and laughing. Maybe they were planning a trip to the park to coincide with next summer's LPGA event in Toledo. I knew Bailey and her parents had made an annual pilgrimage to the park during Bailey's childhood. Maybe she was planning to do some promotions for the theme park. Eventually the duo drifted from my consciousness and I dozed off. I do this all the time while watching football. I just can't help it. I should have been listening more carefully.

I knew something was awry when Bailey and Beth pulled me aside after dinner.

"Suzette and Lexi don't want to go back to Ohio," Beth told me.

"I told them they didn't have to," Bailey added.

I started to shake my head and mutter, "No. No, no, no, no, no."

"The rest of us get along fine with Suzette," Beth said. "We all love Lexi to death. We've spoken informally with everyone else and no one has a problem with it."

I, however, did have a problem with it.

"No," I said. It was all I could say. Suzette and I had gotten along well. I adored Lexi — even if she was a little bratty at times. I'm sure I was a royal pain in the butt when I was 6, too.

Beth and Bailey were still looking at me.

"No," I said again.

Beth told me I'd have to do better than that.

"No, I don't," I said. "I think it would be a remarkably bad idea to invite Suzette to share our house. Now or ever, is that good enough for you?"

It wasn't good enough for them.

"You can't expect me to put aside everything that's happened in the last eight years," I told them. "It's just not possible. If she wants to move down the street, great. If she wants to live next door, fine. If she wants to live here, no."

Bailey pointed out I'd forgiven her some pretty big things.

"I think you loved me more than you did her," Bailey said. "I think I might have hurt you worse than she did, but I'm here."

I told her I was sure at this point in my life that I'd never loved Suzette, and that wasn't the point.

"What if," Beth said with a thoughtful look, "she and Lexi stay here until they find a place? Would you agree to that?

"Incidentally, she's already a part of our life. You can't change that unless you decide you don't want to see Lexi anymore."

I let out a sigh.

"I'll agree to one month," I said. "By the time we head to Hawaii, I want them headed to be wherever they're going. If anything happens, I'll hold the two of you responsible. Anything, for instance, like your British Open trophy winding up in a pawn shop or your laptop winding up at some junkie's house.

"This is getting out of hand. If everyone else says one month is OK, I'll abstain. If everyone says forever is OK, I'll use my limited veto power for the first time ever."

Bailey told me I was being ridiculous.

"We've had a great few days," she said. "She'll be fine so long as she's with us. I'm going to help her find a job with a marketing firm in town. The fact that she has access to all of us should make finding a job a breeze. Everything will be fantastic. I bet you won't want her leave in a month."

It was a simple play, really.

A rollout right, it was designed to move the pocket a little bit and flood the cornerback's and outside linebacker's zone with receivers. The play took a little longer to develop than we'd hoped, but it worked pretty well — I think it was a 16- or 17-yard gain. I was near the Packers sideline when I threw the pass. No one was near me. No one hit me. It just happened.

My foot hit a loose piece of turf, or maybe every ache I'd been ignoring since last season finally caught up with me. I suddenly found myself on the Packer sideline in more pain than I thought imaginable. I tried to get up, to get back to my huddle, but I couldn't.

"You just lay still, old buddy," a voice said.

I looked up into the face of the Packers venerable quarterback. When you make of list of the top 50 players to ever lace up cleats, he's at or near the top. But when you make a list of the top 50 people to ever lace up cleats, there's a good bet he's even higher. He was retiring at season's end. I had hoped to make today his swansong and the Cardinals were doing a pretty good job of it.

"My coaches radioed upstairs," he said, his hand on my shoulder pad. "Your folks are on the way over. Our trainers are right here, too. But you just lay still."

His soft Southern drawl was soothing. It reminded me of Ellie's. It calmed me just like hers had.

The television showed Coach Blades standing confounded on the sideline. He was looking around for me like maybe I thought we were punting on first down, or maybe I'd been abducted my aliens. The play was so innocuous that he didn't know I was on the opponents' sideline, parts of the inside of my right knee in shreds until he saw the training staff start sprinting across the field.

Coach Blades soon joined Jackson Meadows, the Packers QB, by my side. It hurt, I can tell you that. I think it was the worst physical pain I'd ever felt. It hurt so badly I couldn't think; I couldn't speak. All I could do was pound the turf in frustration, anger and pain. Coach Blades and Jackson Meadows helped the trainers get me on to the cart to wheel me to the locker room. Coach Blades even plopped his Cardinals hat on my unruly shock of blond hair as they sat me down.

"The cameras are gonna be rollin'," he said with a sad smile, "gotta look good for the cameras."

He was right — a network camera followed the cart around the field and into the tunnel. I put on a brave face and tipped Coach Blades' hat to the crowd which was standing, but had fallen strangely silent. Moments before, with the Cardinals up nine and driving in the third quarter of the NFC Championship game, the stadium occupants had been in a frenzy.