hadnât wanted to let Hunter see the boxes of stuff. She didnât want to be here with someone who belonged. But today there was nothing but an empty room and her father was upstairs in his bed, pretending to sleep so he didnât have to talk to her.
She closed the door behind her and walked over to the large walnut desk that had been a gift from her mother a long time ago. She often wondered how two people so different had fallen in love.
Her mother sometimes said it was infatuation. Just that giddy feeling that happens when two people meet who are so different that they get caught up in the myth of romance and love. Not at all like the solid bond her mother had with Ferrinâs stepfather. Dean was a decent guy who was an academic like her mother. They made sense as a couple.
Ferrin pushed aside those thoughts and walked across the hardwood floor. One wall of the room was lined with built-in custom bookcases. Her father was one of the winningest coaches in collegiate football so there were lots of trophies on the shelves. He also had always included pictures of the teams that won. She avoided looking at his glory wall and went instead to his desk.
There was a computer but she knew he seldom used it. She turned it on and started opening the drawers in his desk. Nothing really in them except a stack of letters the housekeeper had put in the top left-hand drawer and a picture of Ferrin underneath them.
It was from her college graduation. Sheâd had no idea heâd kept it. He hadnât shown up because one of his graduates that year had invited him to go fly-fishing in Montana. It shouldnât have mattered. Sheâd known for a long time the kind of man her father was.
So why was she working so hard not to upset him? To do what he wanted when he had never done one thing for her?
Because two wrongs didnât make a right.
Her momâs words echoed in her mind. Sheâd heard them time and again growing up and now they were her constant companion when she wanted to turn away. Wanted to just do what she wanted instead of what was right.
Her father had finally told her that he was against letting Hunter look at the records. She wondered if her father knew something or if he was afraid once he started letting people into his old files theyâd officially become the past and Coach wouldnât be relevant anymore. For his part, Hunter had said heâd respect whatever decision she made...but she knew he wouldnât. Had he said that just to make it so sheâd say yes?
âUgh.â
The sound of her voice echoed around the glory room her father had made for himself. She went to the walk-in closet where the records had been stored. But then she left the boxes unopened and exited the room altogether. The computer was still on and she didnât care. She walked through the house that would never be home to her and out the French doors that led to the patio.
The breeze was cool and strong and she stood there, letting her hair whip around her face, hoping it would push away her thoughts and leave just one clear path.
But it didnât.
Nothing was going to happen to force her to make the choice.
She was going to have to decide and then stick to it.
What was her father afraid of?
Workout tapes, practice scrimmages, maybe some celebrations. What was it that her father thought theyâd find?
She had to know.
It was one more thing about him that she couldnât put her finger on. Maybe by reading the files and viewing the tapes sheâd find answers about the man. Finally be able to understand him.
The decision had to be about her dad, she thought. It couldnât be about Hunter or his questions regarding the past. There was no guarantee that heâd find what he was looking for. In fact, she highly doubted he would. He might never find the answers and the peace he needed.
So it came down to her own decision. What could she live with?
She knew part of it was
She closed the door behind her and walked over to the large walnut desk that had been a gift from her mother a long time ago. She often wondered how two people so different had fallen in love.
Her mother sometimes said it was infatuation. Just that giddy feeling that happens when two people meet who are so different that they get caught up in the myth of romance and love. Not at all like the solid bond her mother had with Ferrinâs stepfather. Dean was a decent guy who was an academic like her mother. They made sense as a couple.
Ferrin pushed aside those thoughts and walked across the hardwood floor. One wall of the room was lined with built-in custom bookcases. Her father was one of the winningest coaches in collegiate football so there were lots of trophies on the shelves. He also had always included pictures of the teams that won. She avoided looking at his glory wall and went instead to his desk.
There was a computer but she knew he seldom used it. She turned it on and started opening the drawers in his desk. Nothing really in them except a stack of letters the housekeeper had put in the top left-hand drawer and a picture of Ferrin underneath them.
It was from her college graduation. Sheâd had no idea heâd kept it. He hadnât shown up because one of his graduates that year had invited him to go fly-fishing in Montana. It shouldnât have mattered. Sheâd known for a long time the kind of man her father was.
So why was she working so hard not to upset him? To do what he wanted when he had never done one thing for her?
Because two wrongs didnât make a right.
Her momâs words echoed in her mind. Sheâd heard them time and again growing up and now they were her constant companion when she wanted to turn away. Wanted to just do what she wanted instead of what was right.
Her father had finally told her that he was against letting Hunter look at the records. She wondered if her father knew something or if he was afraid once he started letting people into his old files theyâd officially become the past and Coach wouldnât be relevant anymore. For his part, Hunter had said heâd respect whatever decision she made...but she knew he wouldnât. Had he said that just to make it so sheâd say yes?
âUgh.â
The sound of her voice echoed around the glory room her father had made for himself. She went to the walk-in closet where the records had been stored. But then she left the boxes unopened and exited the room altogether. The computer was still on and she didnât care. She walked through the house that would never be home to her and out the French doors that led to the patio.
The breeze was cool and strong and she stood there, letting her hair whip around her face, hoping it would push away her thoughts and leave just one clear path.
But it didnât.
Nothing was going to happen to force her to make the choice.
She was going to have to decide and then stick to it.
What was her father afraid of?
Workout tapes, practice scrimmages, maybe some celebrations. What was it that her father thought theyâd find?
She had to know.
It was one more thing about him that she couldnât put her finger on. Maybe by reading the files and viewing the tapes sheâd find answers about the man. Finally be able to understand him.
The decision had to be about her dad, she thought. It couldnât be about Hunter or his questions regarding the past. There was no guarantee that heâd find what he was looking for. In fact, she highly doubted he would. He might never find the answers and the peace he needed.
So it came down to her own decision. What could she live with?
She knew part of it was
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