had no illusion to the length of Addie Wilson’s memory.
An hour later, the stream entering the gym thinned as the chairs filled and it was time for the presentations and announcements. Principal Jeff Holby introduced Skip as a member of the school staff before Coach McLane slung an arm around his shoulder and took the mike.
“I’m thrilled,” the retiring teacher said, “to be passing the torch onto such a fine young man as Skip Dalton. He grew up on Firewood Island, attended its schools and went out into the world to make a name for our little spot on the map.” Grinning at Skip, he continued, “As a quarterback in the NFL, no less. Doggone it, but that makes me mighty proud.”
A few whistles shrilled, with a spattering of applause. More for Coach’s delight, Skip knew, than for his meritorious career.
“After thirty years,” Coach went on, “I can’t think of one person more suitable to take over for me.” Stepping back, he held out the keys to the locker rooms and coaching office. “Skip, these are yours now. Make the team yours. Make the wins yours. We’re behind you every yard and run of the way.”
This time the crowd’s applause rang to the rafters. The words Coach McLane were chanted throughout the room for almost five minutes, before they shifted slowly to Coach Dalton.
And that’s when he saw Addie.
She stood at the back of the gym, on the periphery of a group that had come in late. She wasn’t clapping and chanting, but instead she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, a purse slung over a shoulder…and watched him. He couldn’t help grin. The din ebbed into the distance, and it was all he could do not to jump off the stage and stride across the room.
He wanted to see her up close. He wanted to touch her hand, her soft tawny hair and look into those summer blue eyes. Say her name…
And what…? Beg forgiveness? Tell her what you’ve done, why you’re here, what you hope to achieve?
Concerning her, what did he hope to gain?
The question had burned Skip’s brain since he’d made the decision ten months ago to relocate back to his hometown. At the time, he hadn’t consciously thought about the answer. Hearing of Coach McLane’s retirement, he had called the school, talked to Coach, then Principal Holby and later, the school board. Each had jumped at the chance of having him procure the position of Fire High’s senior coach, and before he gave it an ounce of thought, he’d signed a five-year contract.
For his daughter, first and foremost.
His gaze slipped to where twelve-year-old Becky sat in the front row, blue eyes sparkling as she offered a thumbs-up. His chest hurt with a love he couldn’t fathom. God, every time he looked at the girl, he couldn’t believe his luck in finding her—and getting her back.
The only regret Skip had was for the loss of previous years. But this was now and, dammit, the girl deserved a kind and loving home, a great school and community, but most of all, a family to whom she could attach a sense of belonging.
In Skip’s mind that was achievable on Firewood Island with Addie.
Though he’d have to tread with care there.
Oh, yeah. From what he’d heard through the gossip mill in the two days he’d been back, she was a woman of independent means. And a loner.
Looking at her across the gym, he could imagine that stubborn tilt to her chin. The one that said, I’m here for Coach, not you.
Finally the applause died. Skip said a few words of gratitude and appreciation, then the ceremonies were over. Time to work the crowd, chat up his goals for the upcoming year and hope to introduce his daughter around.
And meet Addie. Before all else, introduce Becky to Addie.
His daughter waited at the bottom of the stage steps. “You were great up there, Dad. They’re gonna love you as coach.”
Her confidence bowled him over, never mind how easily “Dad” slipped into her sentences. When he explained his relationship to her ten months ago, Becky—desperate for family—had taken the news and change with a faith that had broken his heart. Skip hoped that same faith would withstand the test when he told Addie about her daughter.
He put a hand on his child’s shoulder. “We’ll see, honey. I didn’t leave here on the best of terms, remember?” In small increments over the past months, he’d explained as much as he could about himself. But not about Addie. No, that part of his history he hadn’t the guts to disclose. Yet.
“So you’ve said.” Becky’s smile was the moon. “But, hey, once you win a game, the town’ll be so happy to have you.”
Skip chuckled. “We can only hope. Want a hot dog?”
They headed for the side doors. Over Becky’s dark head, Skip searched the room for Addie, for that pretty yellow dress, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had he imagined her in the rear crowd? Probably. She’d been on his mind for months.
Since he’d found Becky.
Admit it, Addie’s been in your head since you left thirteen years ago.
For half his life, she had been in his nightmares, and his dreams. Well, it was time. Time to come full circle.
Determined, he touched his daughter’s elbow. “Let’s go scrounge up some food.”
They walked into the island’s sea-scented sunshine.
Sometimes, it amazed Addie that five people had once slept, ate, laughed, opened birthday and Christmas presents, fought over bathroom privileges and closets and clothes…and survived in the cramped six-room structure in which her mother still lived.
Pulling the truck into the dirt lane of her childhood home on the outskirts of town, she thought of her sisters Lee and Kat living elsewhere on the island. Of the three, Addie visited their mother almost daily; Lee was frequently off island in her plane and Kat was tied up with the Country Cabin, her bed-and-breakfast.
As to their fathers, well, they were another story.
Addie’s died two years ago and Lee’s had left when she was a child. And Kat’s…No one knew who or where Kat’s daddy was, or if he even lived.
Mom’s closet secret. That’s what Kat called Charmaine’s unwillingness to reveal the past.
“What’s the point? It’s done and gone.” Their mother’s favorite battle cry whenever one of them pressed for the name.
Done and gone. Well, Mom, Addie thought, here’s a news flash. Sometimes done and gone comes back to bite you in the butt.
Skip Dalton was a living example.
Standing at the back of the gym, seeing him for the first time in more than a decade, hearing that smooth, deep voice…God, she’d been a teenager again and he the school jock, the team quarterback, the college student come home for Christmas. The boy kissing her under the school bleachers, touching her in places no one had touched, taking her virginity in his pickup truck on the shore of the island’s Silver Lake, and finally…making a baby with her. In this house, in her old bedroom, thirty feet from where she sat this minute in her aged truck.
Pushing off the memories, she opened the door and jumped down. Time to get her child and go home and let Skip Dalton go to whomever wanted him. Which likely would be half the women on the island.
Addie released a soft snort. He’d best take care because those women now had husbands.
And that stopped him before?
Climbing the steps to her mother’s door, she shook her head. Not according to the sports commentators. Wasn’t it four years ago that Skip dated a woman recently separated from her husband—not divorced, separated—and the man had come after him with a shotgun?
Yes, Addie remembered Dempsey talking about it while he watched a game, and laughing about Skip Dalton looking a “little