This Time(38)

He wondered how the Bar J had faired without him for the past week and a half. He missed the tender nudge of Little General's nose on his hand and the song of the birds at sunrise. He missed the sound of Belle's voice and the shy way she looked away when he held her gaze too long. He missed their quiet talks in the kitchen before work, the early morning light falling across the floor like ribbons.

He played with words in his head, planning what he would say when he saw her again. Now that he was free to express his heart, he yearned to tell her he loved her. Yet, his head warned him to take it slow, give her time to grow with the idea that he loved her.

Quietly, he prayed for wisdom.

In the next few minutes, the aircraft door slammed shut and jerked away from the jet way.

The steward returned to the cabin, picking up glasses and trash, passing out reading material. When he stopped by Burke's row, he exchanged his empty glass for a small stack of magazines. "I thought you might like to read this, Mr. Benning. Congratulations."

Burke furrowed his brow and reached for the tabloid size papers. "Thank you," he said, wondering if the news of his retirement had made headlines.

He flipped through the stack looking for a sports magazine, but when the first gossip tabloid flashed by his view, the blood drained from his face.

The photographer's from that night on the beach had moved quickly. Their situational photos supported a fabricated, unsubstantiated story of his engagement that would sell way more papers than the simple news of his retirement.

He stuffed the papers in the seat pocket in front of him and fumbled under the seat for his carry-on bag, searching for his cell phone. But the plane had already taxied down the runway and the announcement to turn off all electronic equipment had been made.

Burke sunk down into his seat. The whole world would think he'd become engaged to Grace when, in fact, the exact opposite had happened. With his head in his hands, he prayed the entire ride home.

***

That evening at the Benning ranch house, sitting around the dinner table, Burke discussed the situation with his family.

"Have you talked to Grace?" Reese asked when he finished talking.

He nodded. "She's as upset as I am. She's had about a couple dozen calls from major news reporters, talk shows, DJs wanting an interview."

"What are you going to do?" Elaine asked, concern in her blue eyes.

Burke refilled his iced-tea, took a tasteless sip and set it aside. "I had John release a statement denying our engagement, but that story is not going to get any attention."

"What are your alternatives?" his father asked.

"Fight, take the papers to court, draw more attention to the situation than it deserves," Burke concluded.

"Doesn't sound smart," Reese said.

"No, it doesn't. I'm just angry."

"Let it go, son," Elaine said, stretching across the table to place her hand on his. "Let the Lord take care of this."

"Your reputation is in His hands," Reese added.

His parents' advice made sense to Burke. In fact, it confirmed the impression he had from the Lord while praying on the flight home. Yet, it seemed so unfair to let them get away with such malicious gossip.

"Have you talked to Belle?" his mother asked.

"Not yet, I've been on the phone doing damage control since Dean picked me up at the airport. I tried her once, but got the machine."

"You think she's seen the tabloids?" Elaine wondered.

"Hard to say. She told me she's avoided checkout line magazines since I left town and went pro. She hates them and doesn't pay attention to them."

"I don't like them either," Elaine said. "But son, that headline is hard to miss. It must be an inch tall."

Burke got up from the table and pulled his car keys from his pocket. "It's late and I'm tired. I'm going home and forget about this for tonight. Besides, I have a seven a.m. practice that I need to be focused on for tomorrow." He kissed his mother on the cheek and thanked her for dinner. "I'll call Belle later."

"See ya, Pop," he said, patting his father on the shoulder as he strode toward the door.





Chapter Eighteen





The clash of shoulder pads resounded in the warm September air as the Haskell Haymakers executed drill after drill during their afternoon practice. Burke watched intensely from the middle of the field, arms crossed as he studied the players, formulating ways to mold his team.

He jotted a few notes and conferred with his offensive line coach. Since the start of twice-a-day workouts three weeks ago, they'd come a long way, rapidly overcoming the awkward moments between a new coach and his players. By the time school started they'd gained appreciation for one another and acted as a team.

Their first game last Friday ended with an at home victory. The town folks had turned out in droves, enthusiastically showing their support for the new era in Haymaker football.

The news media also turned out in droves, hounding him during practice and after their first game. Reporters and cameramen scrambled for the exclusive on Burke Benning's switch from star tailback to high school coach.

Burke accommodated as many networks, magazines, and newspapers as he could until it wore him down and negatively impacted the team. After a few weeks, he limited the national press coverage to a few reporters he knew and trusted.