Matthew's Children. C.J. Carmichael
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of alcohol when he’d had a traffic accident. His second that year.
Silently, Matthew swore at the stupidity of some people. “Here’s what you need to do…” he said.
Hours later, Matthew was talking to another client, this one in an even deeper mess, when he noticed the time. Ten minutes to seven. He scrolled down on his BlackBerry, then groaned. Derrick had a soccer game tonight, at seven-thirty.
In the past, Matthew had missed a lot of Derrick’s soccer games. But no longer. He’d vowed that this spring he would catch every game he possibly could.
He offered his client one last piece of advice, then scheduled a meeting for the following day. Quickly, he closed down his computer, then left the office. Derrick hated it when he came to the games dressed in his business attire, so he took the time to change at the Executive Club in the basement. That he might see Jane here crossed his mind, but he didn’t.
Finally, dressed in casual jeans and a sweater, he rode the elevator to the parking garage. Once he was behind the wheel of his Audi, he punched the address of the soccer field into the GPS.
Now that his son was in the league for older kids, he was expected to play all over Hartford. Matthew wasn’t familiar with most of the fields anymore, and the GPS had kept him from arriving late more than once.
As he drove past a burger joint, he realized he was starving. Hours had passed since that sandwich at noon. He longed to stop, but was afraid that if he did, he’d miss the opening kickoff. In the end, he arrived at the game five minutes early. The spring sky was cloudy, but rain didn’t appear imminent. As he headed for the bleachers, he spotted Gillian amid a group of other soccer moms. He settled on a bench as far away from her as possible.
He didn’t want his relationship with his ex-wife to be hostile—it wouldn’t be healthy for his kids. Yet he felt powerless to change things. Every conversation he tried to have with Gillian ended in an argument, with her making the same accusations and drawing the same—erroneous—conclusions as ever.
She hadn’t reacted to his arrival, yet he knew that somehow she had seen him. If ever he missed a game, she would be the first to call him on it.
His son’s team, the Blazers, was wearing blue-and-yellow uniforms. He searched for lucky number six, Derrick’s number, and spotted him goofing around with another kid, rough-housing on the sidelines.
Stuff like that never went on when Coach Keller was in charge, but of course Wally Keller wasn’t present today, and neither was his wife, Leslie. Andy Crosby, another of the soccer dads, was attempting to fill in. Judging by the flustered expression on his face as he jogged from one boy to another, giving instructions that were largely ignored, he wasn’t finding the job easy.
Coach Keller’s son, Daniel, was among the boys on the field, but Robert, Sarah Boutin’s brother, was absent. Matthew watched as Daniel, a large, athletic boy, took shots at the net. Matthew wondered if he’d been told what his father had been accused of. Did the other kids on the team know, too?
The referee blew his whistle and play began. The Blazers came out disorganized and weak, and five minutes into the game the opposing team scored. The team was hurting without their usual coach.
But something else was going on, Matthew realized. One of the Blazers’ midfielders went out of his way to jostle Daniel, who was playing center.
Well, that answered his question about how much the kids knew.
Poor Daniel.
By halftime the team was down two goals. The sun was low on the horizon and Matthew decided to use the short break in action to run to his car and grab his sunglasses.
To his discomfort, his ex-wife followed him.
Chapter Three
“HAVE YOU HEARD about Coach Keller?” Gillian asked. Her voice was stiff and censorious, as if somehow Matthew was to blame for the situation.
He slipped on his sunglasses. “Yeah, I have. Where’s Violet?”
“With a sitter.” Gillian sounded impatient. “Who told you about Keller?”
He wasn’t about to reveal that Wally Keller was now a client of the firm’s. “Who told you?” he countered.
“The soccer association sent out an e-mail. I didn’t see your address on the distribution list, though.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Maybe you could ask them to add it for me. I would appreciate receiving e-mails about Derrick’s team.”
“Fine.”
He guessed she would have argued if she’d had any basis to do so. But since she claimed to want him more involved with Derrick’s life, how could she?
“Have you heard how Sarah’s doing?” he said. “I noticed Robert wasn’t here.”
“Neither of the Boutin kids was at school today, according to Derrick. I heard they were receiving counseling.”
“That’s good.”
Gillian shook her head. “I still can’t believe this could happen in our neighborhood. We need to screen our coaches more thoroughly from now on. It makes me sick to think that I trusted Wally Keller.”
“Maybe Keller isn’t responsible for what happened to Sarah.”
Gillian rolled her eyes. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
She’d heard him say the phrase so often the words had no meaning to her. Matthew couldn’t blame her. Most people he met felt the same way. Maybe because not that many of them had ever been accused of a crime they hadn’t committed.
“Please don’t tell any of the other parents you think Sarah is lying.”
“I didn’t say I thought Sarah was lying, Gillian.” But…it was possible.
In the course of his career, Matthew had seen it happen often enough. Children who were hurt or scared sometimes lied or made up scenarios for reasons that adults didn’t always understand. While Sarah’s sexual abuse seemed irrefutable, he wouldn’t automatically condemn Wally of the crime.
And he certainly felt sympathy for the Keller family. Leslie and her children didn’t deserve the grief that this was bringing them.
He didn’t like to think that Wally deserved it, either.
AFTER THE GAME, Matt waited on the sidelines for an opportunity to speak to his son. The boys lined up to shake one another’s hands, then each team huddled around their coach for a postgame wrap-up.
Due to his smaller size, Derrick was easy to pick out in the crowd. He appeared despondent after the loss, and left the field with his head low.
“Nice effort.” Matthew clasped Derrick’s sweaty shoulder. He referenced a play late in the second half when Derrick had set up the center for a goal. “That was a beautiful pass.”
For a second his son’s eyes gleamed. Then he shrugged. “We still lost.”
Unfortunately, that one goal hadn’t been enough.
Matt bit back the platitudes. You can’t win them all wasn’t something he wanted to hear after a bad court case. Neither was There’s always the next one or At least you gave it your best.
The truth was losing sucked. “You must be tired. I noticed you were playing shorthanded.”
Derrick nodded. “Some of the guys are thinking of quitting the team.”
Matthew needed a second to figure out why. “Because of Coach Keller?”
Derrick nodded. “Now we have to find a new coach.”
“What about the father who filled in today?”
“He doesn’t know a thing about soccer.