Family Matters by Deborah Bedford Read Free Book Online

Townsend was one of the first off the plane. Liza set the little boy on the floor and he ran to his father, squealing with delight, arms outstretched.
    No defeat would be that bad if you had a child to greet you, Andy thought. So here was the real portrait of life for these players. It had nothing to do with what happened on the soccer field. It had everything to do with reunions and families and belonging to each other. As Andy saw Buddy starting down the metal stairs, looking disheveled and exhausted, she felt a strong sense that God meant her to spend her life with Buddy, that this man could be ‘the one.’
    She met him at the bottom of the steps and he wrapped his arms around her.
    â€œHi,” she said.
    â€œBoy, am I glad to see you,” he said, right before he kissed her.
    â€œInteresting spot to meet an incoming flight,” she commented, teasing him.
    â€œWas there a crowd in the terminal?”
    â€œYes. A big one.”
    â€œThanks for dealing with all this.”
    She gazed up at him. “Buddy. I…” But she stopped, shy. This wasn’t the place or the time to tell him how he made everything worth it, how she felt like the Lord might be leading them to something more.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œNo. Tell me. What?”
    â€œI missed you, is all.”
    â€œGood,” he said. “I wanted you to miss me. That’s the only way I survived the end of that game, knowing I was going to get on a plane and fly back here to you.”
    â€œIt was a good game, Buddy. You didn’t embarrass yourselves.”
    â€œWe didn’t win, either.”
    â€œIn my eyes, you won.”
    â€œYou’re prejudiced.”
    â€œIsn’t everybody?”
    â€œNo. Just you.”
    She laughed, a light tinkling sound that seemed to waft up and hang in the air above them. She pulled her keys out of her purse. “Here. I’m the chauffeur for the evening.”
    â€œGood,” he said, grinning, but his eyes showed how exhausted he was. When they arrived at his house, they lay on the floor listening to Mendelssohn, Andy’s chin propped on her palm, while Buddy talked about the game. He fell asleep on the floor and, before she left, she covered him with an afghan he usually kept spread across an armchair. She kissed him once on the forehead then gazed down at his sleeping face, figuring that the next time she saw him she’d tell him how much she loved him.
    It was the last time she saw him before the accident.
    She drove home to her apartment and went to bed. The next afternoon, when she finished with her patients in the gym and went to check her messages, the call from Harv Siskell had come in. She’d driven like a maniac all the way to the hospital. When she got there, they told her he was in intensive care and no one could see him except immediate family. Four days and four sleepless nights later, he moved to a private room and she finally got to see him.
    â€œI wrecked my car,” he told her as she stooped beside his bed.
    â€œI know that.”
    â€œI wrecked my legs, too.”
    â€œSo I hear.”
    â€œOh, Andy,” he whispered to her. “What am I going to do? I’ve got to play soccer again. It’s my calling. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”
    â€œYou’ll play again,” she promised, taking it to heart. “I know just what to do.”
    For months he went to physical therapy as an outpatient at Parkland Hospital. For months Andy pushed him even further. They worked in the gym at Children’s for what seemed like an eternity. As Andy expected, it paid off. Buddy walked again. He ran again. Just not as fast as he’d run before. And he couldn’t run as far. When the Burn assessed him for the next season, he wasn’t nearly as certain of himself anymore.
    â€œWell,” he said as he sat down on Andy’s sofa one evening. “I made a decision