Authors: Lynette Sowell

Catch a Falling Star (17 page)

BOOK: Catch a Falling Star

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Liann stopped at Trixie, her little red 1965 T-bird that made it all the way from California to Texas with only a flat tire. Right now she wanted to kick one of those tires. Instead, she opened her trunk and dumped the gear she carried, along with the T-shirt. She did allow herself to slam the trunk shut. Trixie groaned at the gesture.

“God, I knew this whole fiasco was a possibility, but I thought things would be better here.” Liann bit her lip as she rounded the bumper and opened the car door. Even with the windows partly open, a fresh wave of heat radiated from inside the vehicle. She’d only been in the band room for an hour to see her office, meet Starlight’s band director, and discuss practice schedules, the fall football games, and marching competitions in October.

Some office, too. While gushing an apology, Jessica had shown Liann a corner of the supply room beside to her office. Liann should have run screaming to the Starlight Independent School District administration office and shredded her offered teaching contract right then and there.

But it was too late. She was here for the school year and might as well tuck herself into the bed she’d made for herself.

Ms. Rivers, I’m afraid we’re only able to offer you a half-time position for this school year. Budget cutbacks, you understand,
the director of Human Resources had said that morning. Half-time.

She’d moved halfway across the country for a half-time position. Not as cheerleading coach either, for the Starlight squad. With her résumé, she figured she’d get the plum position.
We can use you as our color guard coach, since we’re rebuilding the team.

And she thought she’d left her color guard days behind her forever.

Liann stuck the key in Trixie’s ignition. Staying in California was not an option. All doors had closed there, and she needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and Matt. It was better for everyone that way. She missed her parents. But Aunt Chin Mae and Uncle Bert had offered her their guest apartment over the garage when they learned she’d been offered a position in Starlight. Everything seemed like an answer to prayer. Until today, when all her plans came crashing down as soon as she’d arrived in Starlight’s main administration office.

Liann turned the key and only heard clicking instead of the engine turning over. “No, no, no. . .” She turned the key again with the same response.

Great. Now she
would
kick her car. Uncle Bert was fishing and probably had his phone turned off so he could have some peace and quiet. Or so he said. Aunt Chin Mae was at the nail salon working, so that left her. . .stranded for the moment.

❧

Jake Tucker squinted across the practice field and at the parking lot. The slim figure of a young woman popped the hood of a flaming-red ancient T-bird. He directed his attention back to the boys on the field, performing defensive drills. He and the coaching team had an entire defensive roster to sort through, and by the end of July some guys would be elated while others would prepare to warm their hind ends on the bench.

That was the way it went with football. Either you had it, or you didn’t. A few of the scrappier guys would grow as players from their freshman year onward, but four years wasn’t a long time to build on playing skills.

He glanced at his watch. They’d been at it for thirty minutes now. Time for a break. Nobody needed heat exhaustion—or worse—from working on drills in these temperatures. He was just standing there and his golden yellow polo shirt clung to his chest and back. Coach Blann was inside at his desk going through his playbook. He’d been relying on Jake more during the summer practice season, it seemed. Jake wondered if the man had health issues. But Blann never volunteered information, and Jake didn’t ask.

“Take ten minutes, guys,” he shouted through his cupped hands. “Get some water and get some shade.” He glanced across the parking lot again. Now the figure had her hands propped on her hips, still staring at the car’s engine.

He might as well see if he could help. He knew something about cars. Not as much as he did about football, but enough. Heat shimmered from the parking lot.

“Hi there,” he called out to the young lady at the red car.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“Trixie.” She frowned at the vehicle and pulled her ink-black hair away from her neck, fanning herself. Her dark eyes had just a hint of an exotic tilt at the corners.

“Does it turn over, Trixie?”

“She’s Trixie.” The young woman pointed at the car. “No, she won’t turn over. I have no idea what’s wrong. I mean, she’s had a rattling noise lately, but I figured it was because of the long road trip.” Her voice caught.

“I see. . . . I’m Coach Tucker, by the way.”

“It would be nice to meet you, under better circumstances.”

She swallowed and placed her hand on her forehead. “I have no idea why she chose now to quit. Better than on the road or in the middle of nowhere, but this just caps off my day perfectly. Never mind. . .” She shook her head.

“Let me see what I can do.” Jake stepped around the open driver’s side door and slid into the seat. He turned the key. Only a clicking noise in response. Battery or alternator? He wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was the starter.

“Do you think it’s the battery?” She bit her lip. “That would be an easy fix.”

“I don’t think so. Can your mom or dad give you a ride home?”

She fixed a glare on him then softened her features. “My parents live in California. I think that would be a bit of a stretch for them to tote me home.”

“Oh.” He studied her face a little more closely. “Sorry, you almost look young enough to be a student. I thought you might be here for late summer registration.”

“Ha! So what grade do you think I’m in?” She blinked, showing him a sassy grin. When he first arrived, he thought she’d been ready to crumble and fall into a pool of tears. Thankfully, she hadn’t, although it was touch and go at first.

“A senior, of course.” He cleared his throat. “So, you can’t be old enough to be a parent of a high schooler, either. You must be a teacher.”

She nodded. “Just moved to Starlight. I’m coaching color guard.”

“Good luck on that one.”

“What’s wrong with the color guard?”

“They have nowhere else to go but up. If they don’t improve this year, the administration is prepared to shut down the program.”

“Is that right?” She propped her hands on her hips once again.

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard.” He had a feeling that when she heard challenges like that, she’d try to prove someone wrong. He liked that. She had a winner’s mentality. Plus a playful grin that even now melted into a scowl at her car.

“Well, I’m not going to whip anyone into shape if I’m stuck here. My aunt’s at work and my uncle’s out fishing. I don’t know a soul in town.”

“You know me.”

“Ha. Hardly. But, do you know of a good towing service? I don’t have Triple-A anymore.” She shook her head. “I guess I should be thankful I didn’t break down like this during the move.”

“I can call Herb Bush. Retired Army, has a tow truck for hire, and he’ll take Trixie anywhere you like. Even the junkyard.” He couldn’t resist teasing her, just to see the spark in her eyes.

“Not hardly. She’s a ’65 T-bird. But seriously, if you could give me his number, I’ll call him myself.” She gestured with her head toward the practice field. “I think your team is ready to get practicing again. Either that, or they’re trying really hard to hear what we’re talking about.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder. The squad of varsity hopefuls lined up along the chain-link fence that separated the practice field from the parking lot. Great. Now he’d hear the guys ribbing him when he returned. Just let ’em try it.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Aunt Zalea. “Hey, Aunt Zalea. . .it’s Jake. Is Uncle Herb around? Someone at the high school is broken down, needs a tow.”

“Hey, honey. He’s just sittin’ here, staring at the back of his eyeballs, letting the ice melt in his sweet tea.” Aunt Zalea’s drawl crossed the phone line. Jake could just make out mumbling in the background, something about not taking a nap, just reading a book. “Well, Herb, you’ve been on that same page for thirty minutes now. Okay, Jake. He said he’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

Jake ended the call. “Herb’s on his way. If you take her anywhere, don’t go to Starlight Auto. Go to Biff ’s.”

“Biff ’s?”

“Yup. They’ll do right by you, and Trixie.” Biff Hutchins and Jake went way back, from their first days in a new high school after their fathers were both transferred to nearby Fort Hood at the same time. Jake had done the college thing, Biff had gone the trade school route.

“Wow, thanks for the tip. And for your help.” She smiled at him. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey, Coach!” A voice drifted across the parking lot. Tim Rollins, who’d likely end up as starting quarterback if he kept up his passing and running.

“I’ll be right there,” Jake hollered back. Oh yeah, he’d hear about it all right. “You take care. Do you need any water or anything? It gets really hot on this parking lot.”

“I’ll be fine. And thanks, I appreciate it. Now go, before those boys really start harassing you.” She waved him off.

Jake trotted back to the practice field. He stepped onto the curb and realized something: he didn’t know the young mystery woman’s name. One thing was for sure: he was glad it wasn’t Trixie.

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