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squad was my top priority that year. Might have explained why I was such a mediocre athlete.”
The brothers responded with weak smiles and a quick, awkward change of subject. It was no stretch for Nic to figure out who the captain of the cheerleading squad had been.
Heather’s shadow hovered behind them through the rest of the reception as Joel worked the room, casually introducing Nic as his friend from Arkansas, ignoring the questions in his old schoolmates’ faces. It was so obvious that everyone was carefully avoiding any mention of Joel’s late wife, which made it all the more apparent that they were thinking of her. Quite naturally, of course, since she had been a prominent member of their class.
Saying little, Nic watched them interact with Joel. There was no doubt that he was well liked and respected. Several of the other guests cornered him with medical questions, both about themselves and their children, but he handled it with practiced ease. He had a little more trouble handling their sympathy, which was always implied and sometimes almost blatant in soulful looks or syrupy tones.
She could see now what he had meant when he’d said he was tired of being treated like a saint or a pity case. Everyone was simply trying too hard to keep from reminding him of his loss. They even seemed almost apologetic about mentioning their own spouses or children, as if he might resent them for having what fate had taken from him.
She wondered how much worse it would have been if he had come alone. Would they have tried even harder to make up for Heather’s absence, making the situation even more uncomfortable than it was?
As reluctant as she was to admit it, he had been smart to bring someone with him. And considering everything, she supposed she had been the right one to ask, since she understood his predicament so well. But she still thought her original idea had been the best one—to send his regrets and skip this whole reunion thing.
“You might have told me,” Nic said when she and Joel were in his car again, headed for the football game, “that I was wearing the colors of your team’s rival.”
He gave her a ruefully apologetic look. “Sorry. I honestly didn’t remember what their colors are.”
Resigning herself to being seen by the home crowd as a representative of the enemy team, Nic pushed a hand through her hair and settled back into her seat. At least she liked football; she was sure she would enjoy the game.
Joel’s friends surrounded them at the stadium, everyone insisting on sitting together, one Watson couple on Nic’s left, the other at Joel’s right. Heidi sat on the bleacher bench in front of them, beside her necessarily taciturn husband. She turned frequently to chat, her attention barely on the game.
Nic did her best to watch the plays, but it wasn’t easy when everyone around them kept asking overly casual questions designed to elicit information about her and Joel. Heidi was the worst offender, of course, even though she was so polite about it that it would have been hard to get annoyed with her. All of her questions were phrased to seem as though she was simply trying to be gracious to Nic, showing interest in getting to know her better.
Nic answered each question briefly but civilly, giving away as little personal information as possible. As quickly as she could, she turned the subject to the game. “Your coach has an obsessive fondness for the standard I formation, doesn’t he?” she commented to Joel. “Seems like he could change it up a bit more.”
“He’s been running that same formation since I played for him fifteen years ago,” Joel replied.
“He should be using number twenty-three more. The kid’s a natural running back. He’s got the speed.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Earl agreed fervently. “Number twenty-three is my wife’s nephew, Kirk. He’s just a sophomore, but as soon as he gets a little better at tucking the ball more securely, he’s going to be a force to reckon with. If Coach gives him the chance. Coach tends to focus on the same few players every game—the ones whose parents are the most vocal and active in the booster club, of course.”
“Now, Earl, that’s not fair,” Heidi complained. “My Davey plays a lot, but it certainly isn’t because his father and I are so active in the booster club.”
Earl gave Nic a look that seemed to say, See what I mean?
Deciding discretion was called for, Nic said, “There’s room on a winning team for a lot of talented players.”
“So you know football?” Earl asked with interest. “Who’s your favorite pro team?”
“Kansas City,” she replied promptly.
Ernie gave a derisive hoot, leading to a spirited debate about pro football that morphed into a discussion of college teams and the much-maligned bowl-series system. The conversation was periodically interrupted when they all jumped to their feet to cheer on a good play by the Cardinals, in which Nic enthusiastically participated. By halftime, she and the Watson twins were great pals, much to Joel’s apparent amusement.
“Not many women know football as well as you do,” Earl told her, jerking a thumb toward the pleasantly plump woman at his other side. “Cassie would rather be hitting the flea markets and antique malls than watching a game.”
His wife nodded her lightly graying brown head decisively to agree with that statement.
“I’ve always liked sports,” Nic replied. “Comes from trying to keep up with my older brother, I guess. I felt as though I had to be as good as he was despite my smaller size.”
“You play any sports now?”
“I’m on a softball team. And I play a little flag football. An occasional game of Ultimate Frisbee.”
Earl looked impressed. “Yeah? So what do you do? You a P.E. teacher or something?”
“I’m a police officer for the Cabot Police Department.”
“You’re a cop? Hey, Ernie, did you hear that? Nic’s a cop.”
Ernie looked as surprised as his twin. Everyone else within hearing distance—most notably Heidi—had also turned to stare at her. As if, Nic thought, she had announced she was a circus geek or something. What was so odd about her being on the force?
“A police officer,” Heidi repeated, twisting almost completely around on her bleacher seat. “I never would have guessed that of you. You’re so…well, little. Isn’t that a detriment in your job? Isn’t it dangerous for you?”
“Not really. I’m well trained—and Cabot is a small town. Not exactly a hotbed of crime.”
“You seem to be forgetting that guy who shot at you with a shotgun last month,” Joel murmured.
His friends’ eyes widened. “A shotgun?” Heidi repeated with a gasp.
Nic gave Joel a chiding look. “It was just loaded with rock salt. And old Mr. Barnett couldn’t hit the side of a barn anyway. He didn’t even come close to peppering me.”
“And you…um, enjoy that work?”
Why did people keep asking her that, as if she would be crazy to admit that she was satisfied with her job? “Yes,” she told Heidi firmly. “I do like it.”
“Oh.” Looking a little flustered now, Heidi glanced toward the football field, where self-consciously proud fathers escorted their shivering, scantily dressed daughters across the patchy grass. Seemingly relieved to seize a new topic, she trilled, “Oh, that brings back memories. I was a homecoming princess our senior year, you know. And Heather was queen—remember, Joel?”
Everyone around them went quiet as Joel murmured, “I remember.”
Of course Heather had been homecoming queen, Nic thought with a sigh. And of course Heidi had brought her up again just as Joel seemed to be relaxing a bit and enjoying the present. She didn’t believe Heidi was being deliberately cruel, simply clinging to