Page 631 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

She pulled out a pair of linen pants and tried them on. Too dressy. She took them off and tossed them on the bed, reaching for a pair of jeans when her cordless phone rang. She searched frantically under the mountain of clothes to get to the sound. “Hello? Hi, Kendall … yes, I’m meeting you at practice. I promise I’ll be on time.”

She ended the call and then tried to squelch the irritation that surfaced. Why would Kendall assume she would be late? It was only practice. Why was it so important for her to be there for the whole thing? Kendall had been wound up tight as a toy soldier now that football season was getting ready to start. The pressure he was under must be incredible. She just needed to overlook his moodiness. Things would settle down once the season got under way.

The entire townof Stoney Creek, it seemed, had come out to see the first official practice of the season. Kendall had been holding practices for two weeks now, but this was the time when it became serious. Practice was held on a side field where the grass was splotchy and beaten down. The football stadium was reserved for game nights only. All summer long the grass on the main field had been nurtured and was now a thick carpet of green.

Sydney parked along the street because the parking lot adjacent to the field was full. She made her way up to the field and saw the spectators, mostly men, leaning against their carsand discussing the players. All of them, no doubt, had strong opinions about the plays Kendall was running and which players he should put in various positions. She scoped the crowd, thinking she might see Walter, but no such luck. She found a spot to stand and noticed an attractive black woman leaning against a green Mercury Sable. The woman gave Sydney a polite smile. Sydney returned the gesture and then turned her focus to the field.

She spotted Kendall right away. He was hard to miss and looked every bit the head coach in his tight gray pants and white shirt that clung to his muscular chest and arms. A burgundy cap was pulled down over his eyes, and a whistle was wedged in his mouth like an extra tooth. He was blowing it in rhythm. The players were lined up, performing drills. Sydney remembered seeing the players do this particular one when she was younger. They would run in place as fast as they could until Kendall blew the whistle, at which point they would hit the ground and then come back up to repeat the same process over and over.

Nostalgia swept over her as she caught a faint whiff of sulfur from the paper mill. Avery and Walter used to watch the practices just like the men who were here now. Sometimes Avery would take her with him, and if she behaved he would treat her to an ice cream at Randall’s Diner afterwards.

“Who are you here to see?”

It took Sydney a moment to realize that someone had spoken to her. She looked at the woman she’d noticed earlier.

“Are you here to see one of the players?” The woman repeated.

“Not exactly.”

The woman waited for Sydney to explain. Sydney stepped closer to the woman so she wouldn’t have to yell. “Coach Fletcher’s a friend of mine.” Her face warmed and she bracedherself for the woman to make some insinuating comment. Why did she feel like she was sixteen again?

“Oh.” The woman pointed to the field. “Do you see that guy on the end of the first row?”

Sydney looked. “The tall one?”

The woman nodded and smiled proudly. “That’s my son, Reginald.”

Sydney wasn’t sure how to answer. “He looks like a fine player.”

“He’s the quarterback.” The woman extended her hand. “I’m Jarilyn Kelly.”

“Sydney Lassiter.”

Jarilyn flashed a brilliant smile. “You must be new to Stoney Creek.”

“I moved here this summer from Ft. Worth. I’m the safety coordinator for the sawmill,” Sydney said. She guessed Jarilyn to be in her late thirties. Her ebony hair was soft and rounded on her shoulders. Her large almond eyes were friendly. She was dressed in white slacks and a matching tailored jacket. A pale blue silk shirt underneath the jacket was the perfect complement for her chocolate honey skin.

“I work at First Federal Bank next to the Piggly Wiggly,” Jarilyn said.

There was something warm and approachable about Jarilyn that put Sydney completely at ease. She learned that Reginald was Jarilyn’s only son and the center of her life. Reginald’s father had left the picture years ago, shortly after Jarilyn became pregnant. Jarilyn had moved from Birmingham to Stoney Creek because she knew it would be a good place to raise her son.

They made small talk until they heard Kendall blow the whistle long and hard, a signal for the players to huddle around him.

“It looks like practice is over,” Jarilyn said.

“Yeah.” Sydney wasn’t sure where Kendall was going to meet her.

“I hope you’ll come to practice again. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

More than you know, Sydney thought. Jarilyn couldn’t possibly guess how much her friendliness meant. Sydney smiled and turned to leave. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait—don’t leave yet. I want you to meet Reginald.”

The women watched Reginald approach them, carrying his helmet in one hand. His curly hair had soaked up his perspiration like a sponge and left drops glistening on the ends. A few drops broke loose and trickled down his face. There were deep smudges of dirt on his elbows and grass stains on his knees. When he got next to them, Sydney noticed how he towered over his petite mother. “Son, I want you to meet Sydney Lassiter. She’s a friend of Coach Fletcher.”

Sydney extended her hand. “Reginald, it’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled broadly, accentuating his clean even features. His handshake was firm and sure. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Lassiter. Any friend of coach’s is a friend of mine.”

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