Whispered Secrets by Elizabeth Lennox
Chapter 8
“Okay ladies! Gather round and let’s talk about–” Maggie paused as she watched a man in well-worn jeans and yet another faded tee shirt climb out of his pickup. “What’s he doing here?” Maggie asked, startled when Oliver reached into the back of his truck and pulled out a mesh bag filled with…glory be! New soccer balls!
Almost in unison, the girls gasped as they watched the man toss the bag of pretty, shiny soccer balls over his shoulder and pulled out a second bag. What this bag might contain was a mystery that had all fifteen girls, as well as their now-stammering coach, gawking in wonder and anticipation.
“Hello ladies,” Oliver said as he dropped both bags on the grass. He turned to Maggie to explain, “Eddie caught me on my way to work this morning. He said something happened to his back and asked if I could help you with soccer practice.” He looked at the girls who were all examining the mesh bag filled with soccer balls. “I hope you don’t mind me helping out as a substitute assistant coach until he feels better?”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He seemed okay earlier, when I saw him carrying a bag of grout up to the second story apartments,” she muttered. Then sighed and shook her head. “But yes, thank you for filling in. I think the real reason Eddie bailed on me is because he doesn’t know how to play soccer. He helped me last year but never really understood what off-sides meant.”
“The company I’m currently working for donates sports equipment for local teams. When I mentioned that I was stepping in to help, I was offered a stipend to buy some equipment.”
Maggie gasped, her eyes dropping to the filled bags. “You mean, all of this is ours to keep?”
The girls had opened the other bag and were pulling out mesh jerseys. Half of the girls would wear the mesh shirts over their tee shirts and the other half wouldn’t. That made it easier to identify one’s opponent.
“Sure. The owner is a pretty good guy.”
One of the girls pulled out a stack of small, orange cones. “What are these for?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Those are to run drills,” Oliver explained, and glanced at Maggie as if that should have been just a standard piece of equipment.
“We run drills around sticks,” she explained with a shrug.
“Not anymore,” he announced. Then he looked down at the thoroughly beaten up, filthy soccer ball resting at Maggie’s feet. “Where are the others?”
She laughed, toeing the ball. “This is it,” she explained. “We’ve gotten by with one ball so far. But,” she looked down at the other bag filled with pristine, beautiful soccer balls, “we’ll definitely make use of those!”
He laughed and dumped the balls out onto the ground. He looked around, squinting in the setting sun. “This is the practice field?”
Maggie chuckled again. “Practice and game field. We share the field on the weekends with the other neighborhood sports teams.”
Oliver’s lips compressed and she looked around with a shrug. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “It’s big and open, so no one will get hurt. Plus, it’s so filled with weeds, that we don’t have to fight for space like we would if we lived in the suburbs and had nicer fields.”
“Right,” he sighed. “So, what’s the first drill?”
Maggie picked up her clipboard and started calling out names, separating the girls into squads. They did several drills; altering the practice now that there were so many soccer balls to use. For the next ninety minutes, Maggie took half of the team while Oliver worked with the other half. She taught defensive skills and Oliver worked on offense. When the practice was over, the girls were exhausted, but also exhilarated. As they left the field, collecting orange cones and soccer balls as they went, they were laughing and smiling, high fiving each other as they talked eagerly about the next practice.
In a sudden panic, Maggie watched as the girls waved goodbye, leaving Maggie standing beside Oliver with the equipment at their feet.
“You look tired,” he commented.
Maggie glanced up at Oliver, feeling that strange swooping sensation in her stomach that always happened when she was close to him. Hence, why she stayed away from him.
“It’s been a long day,” she replied.
“I’ll walk you home,” he teased, since they lived in the same building.
She laughed, but he could see the blush on her cheeks and loved it.
He grabbed both bags, tossing them over his shoulder. They weren’t heavy, but he liked walking beside her with them in one hand and Maggie on the other side. He’d like to reach out and touch her hand, weave his fingers through hers. That was such an old-fashioned idea that he mentally rolled his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, walking alongside him as she kicked the taller weeds out of her way.
He sighed and looked out at the parking lot. “I was just wondering how long it has been since I held a woman’s hand. Then I realized that I don’t think I’ve ever held a woman’s hand.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Never?”
He shook his head, chuckling now. “Nope. I was an arrogant bastard in high school. Didn’t really have a girlfriend. So any time I walked with a girl, it was for an ulterior reason.”
“You…want to hold my hand?” she asked, seeming to almost choke over the words.
He stopped and turned to look down at her. “Yeah. I’d really like to get to know you, Maggie.” He moved closer. “I don’t want to pressure you. But you…fascinate me. There’s something about you that pulls me in, but the look in your eyes tells me to stay the hell away.” His hand reached up, touching her cheek lightly. “I’m not sure which message to listen to.”
There was a long silence as she gazed into his eyes. “I’m not sure either,” she replied honestly.
He smiled, but pulled back. “How about if you just let me get to know you?” he offered. “No pressure.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I suspect that you’ve had a bad relationship in the past.” He rubbed his thumb over hers. “So have I. I don’t trust women easily, but…” he sighed and looked thoughtfully up at the darkening sky. “I’d like to trust you, Maggie. If you’d let me in enough to get to know you.” He saw the wariness in her eyes. “But if you need more time, that’s fine. Like I said, I won’t pressure you.”
Maggie opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t form. Thoughts flew from her mind. Oliver wanted…her? How…shockingly wonderful!
“Well, I guess–”
“Don’t answer me now,” he replied quickly. “Why don’t we drive home and you can sleep on it?”
She smiled, thinking that she could answer him immediately. “Okay, if you want to wait for my answer, then that sounds like a plan.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed for his truck, leaving Oliver standing in the field looking flummoxed.
A moment later, he pulled his head out of his ass and hurried forward. “Wait a minute,” he ordered, touching her arm. “Would you…?”
“Yes,” she replied, then slipped her hand into his and started walking again. When he stood there, still trying to understand, she tugged, getting his feet moving again.
“Drive me home, Oliver,” she ordered playfully as she stepped into his truck.
Oliver tossed the equipment into the back, fighting back the triumphant smile that would probably make him look like an overly eager school boy. Pulling himself into the truck, he started it up and backed out of the parking space. But before he pulled into traffic, he looked over at her. “Does that mean that you’ll make me your famous macaroni and cheese?” he asked, hope practically dripping from his tone.
Maggie cracked up and Oliver thought her laughter was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“Oh no!” she argued. “You’ll have to do something pretty extraordinary for that!”
“Fair enough. Will you let me buy you pizza then?”
She thought about it for perhaps a half second. “Yes. That would be really nice. But you’re not buying me dinner. We’ll split the cost,” she declared.
He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “Maggie, the things that…well, never mind. Let’s get some pizza.” And with that, he pulled into traffic, grinning as he drove to the pizza place a few blocks away, where they laughed and talked about nothing in particular as they gorged on pizza.
When he walked her to her door that night, Oliver hesitated. Another first for him. But when Maggie looked up into his eyes, he knew what he had to do. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers, lightly, then pulled back.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Maggie,” he told her softly. Then he walked away.
Oliver couldn’t believe it, but as he shut the door on his own apartment, he knew that walking away that night was the perfect ending to a perfect evening. Never in his life had he thought that walking away from a beautiful woman would be perfect, but he didn’t want to pressure Maggie into a sexual relationship too quickly. This was too important. She was too important!
