Chapter 7

On July eighteenth, six months after the accident, Mike stood at the altar next to his brother, David, surprised at how crowded the church was on his and Lisa’s wedding day. Looking over the congregation, he spotted two of his coaches and a reporter from the area newspaper and a stringer for The Boston Globe. He withheld a grin. Local Boy Makes Good? Did they know something he didn’t? 

Practices were going well; his leg was strong again—as strong as before the break over a year ago—and he was working harder than ever. He sensed his growing confidence and looked forward to the official start of training camp next week. Maybe his status as second backup to the starter would change for the better. On the other hand, the roster would be cut by the end of August. He’d better be on it, even if in the same position.

Shaking his head at the absurdity of news coverage—his was certainly not a society wedding—he continued to scan the crowd.

How had a simple, intimate affair morphed into a full house? He studied the attendees more slowly and had to admit he saw no strangers. It seemed their Woodhaven friends and neighbors hadn’t needed a special invitation but had taken time out to wish them well. 

Lisa’s extended family had shown up in force—aunts, uncles, cousins—and his own family hadn’t let him down despite his mother’s reservations. She had either come around or was putting up a good front. He really didn’t care which. He only cared about the new life he and Lisa would share. Between both families, the front rows were entirely filled—all except for two reserved seats. 

On one, a long-stemmed red rose lay on a white silk cushion among sprigs of babies’ breath; on the other seat rested a white carnation and a bow tie. Grace and Robert would be with them in spirit.

Mike took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders beneath his white dinner jacket, and stared at the back of the church, simply waiting.

Waiting for Lisa. Waiting for their new beginning.  

The soft background music segued to their processional choice, a guitar concerto by Vivaldi. Mike’s eyes remained glued to the top of the aisle. Jennifer walked first. The maid of honor, taking her role very seriously, looked beautiful with her hair pulled up in some kind of fancy twist. He watched her approach, this bright teenager, confused and stumbling, trying to make sense of her collapsed world. She and the others had begun working with a therapist, but Mike foresaw a long road ahead. Maybe a lifetime? He shivered. Don’t go there. No drama, no trauma today.

Jen was college material, and he’d make sure she’d attend next year.  He met her gaze and winked. She grinned back at him. Yes! He wanted everyone to share his happiness this day. 

He heard a murmur and some chuckles. Gazing toward the rear of the room, he saw his two young groomsmen, identically dressed in white jackets to match his. With their blond hair neatly combed for a change, and cocky smiles lighting their faces, the twins were photo-ready as they strolled toward him. He’d never seen Andy and Brian so self-contained. They spent most of their time engaged with a bat and ball or a basketball or a football, surrounded by their friends. They kept themselves busy. Too busy to think?  Mike felt his body tighten. Were the boys living only on the surface, pretending all was well? He studied them again. All he knew for sure was that they were good kids, and he looked forward to coaching them, guiding them…. They already looked up to him, even now, having reached the altar with obviously no clue what to do next. He pointed toward their seats. 

A poignant “ooh” and “ahh” hit his ears, sprinkled with whispers of adorable and precious. Emily. Of course, Emily. With her basket of flowers and a smile that warmed him from afar. A petite princess, perhaps the most fragile of the children, the most delicate, who revealed herself with crayons and paint. I promise you’ll be safe, Emily. You’ll be brave and strong again. He watched her sprinkle her petals with every step. When she reached the front, he nodded at the space next to her brothers. First, however, she blew him a kiss. And his heart squeezed again. 

Four traumatized children. Problems and potholes down the road. And he was no shrink. For an instant, his heart stopped beating, and sweat prickled his skin from scalp to soles. What the hell was he taking on? Was he really up to it? Were his parents right?

With that last thought, the music changed. He snapped to attention and finally received his reward. 

Lisa. 

In unison, the congregation stood. Flanked on each side by her uncles, Lisa floated toward him in time to the music, a short veil obscuring her face. Slowly, she approached, and he soon saw those violet eyes glistening behind the veil, darker than usual and shadowed… She stood before him, now alone, and Mike lifted her netting. 

“I love you,” he whispered, the one truth he’d never doubted.

She smiled, and the shadows disappeared.      

He’d try his best to erase those shadows forever. The key was his career. With hard work and a little luck, he could grow into a star player. The money he could earn would resolve their living issues. Sure, Lisa had said the kids were her responsibility, and only hers. But that was an unrealistic and foolish notion. He and Lisa were a couple. A single unit. And he was the one positioned to give them everything they’d ever need or want. 

Maybe one day, he and Lisa would start a family of their own. The thought caught him by surprise. It seemed they’d been too preoccupied to have that particular conversation. It didn’t matter. They had plenty of time. 

First, however, a wedding! Confident again, Mike reached for Lisa’s hand, faced the priest, and kneeled. He was ready to steer his new family. 

#

“Good morning, Mrs. Brennan.”

In the picturesque B and B they’d chosen for their wedding night, Lisa rolled over on the bed, yawned, and stared a long way up at her brand-new husband. Dressed and wide awake, Mike held out a cup of coffee. 

Ignoring the tempting aroma, she curled into the blankets once more, her lids fluttering closed. Sweet, lighter-than-air kisses brushed her cheek; a heftier one warmed her temple. 

“Did I knock you out last night?” Mike teased, a thread of laughter lacing his voice. Lisa smiled to herself. With all the challenges facing them, their compatibility in the bedroom would never be one. “Did who knock out whom?” she mumbled.

“Feisty, huh? Well, scoot over, sleepyhead.” 

She complied and felt the mattress sink from Mike’s added weight. She heard him rattle a newspaper. 

“Take a look. We’re actually in an article. Mostly about the football angle, but the writer did include a brief story about your family.”

Her eyelids sprang open, but Mike’s tone was gentle as he continued. 

“I’m sorry about that, sweetheart, but maybe it’s the last time that will happen. Once and done. Ya know?”

“Let’s hope so,” she whispered. Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. “Sorry.” She reached for a tissue. “Sometimes the grief hits me when I least expect it, and I cry. I’m sorry.”

And then she was in his arms. “Don’t apologize. You never need to apologize about that. I miss them, too, Lisa.”

Her breathing eased, she became calmer, and a minute later, she pulled away from him. “You’re the best man in the world for me. I love you so much, Michael Brennan.”

He winked at her, a jack-o-lantern grin on his face. “Good.” 

“And I think my aunts and uncles feel more confident, too. And their gifts?”  She whistled long and low. “I never expected such generosity.”

“They love you and want to help.”  

“I know they want to help Grace and Robbie’s children.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I wish there was no reason to help.” Tears dribbled on her face, and she rubbed them away impatiently. “God, I’m such a waterfall.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s going to take time to feel normal again—whatever normal is. And if a wedding doesn’t bring on the emotions, then nothing will.”

“For a guy, you’re pretty understanding.” Now, she had the pleasure of watching him blush, the ruddy hue making him look even more delectable. 

“Hey, I’m a macho man,” he protested with a grin. “Just ask anybody in the NFL.”

He gave the newspaper to her. “I’ll probably be in print a few more times during training camp. Every position is important, but everyone has an opinion about their quarterbacks, even a second-stringer like me—and it’s not always complimentary. So prepare yourself.”

“Phooey! What do they know? You’re doing really well. I enjoyed meeting the coaches yesterday, despite their obvious desire to meet me…or should I say, look me over. But that’s okay,” she said quickly, cutting off his protests. “I know they have a vested interest in you. Professional sports is all about the money.”

He looked startled. “For the owners, sure. It’s big business. But despite everything, for me, it’s all about the game and the team and, most important, the fans. Right now, it seems to be going well. I can’t complain, so I won’t.”

Which meant the coaches were taking note of his talent. His drive. His tenacity. “Every time you come home from practice, you’re more excited.”

“I’ve dreamed about the NFL my whole life.”

Of course he had. He’d shared those dreams with her as soon as he was sure she wouldn’t laugh. 

She nestled against him on the bed. “I’ll have to start another scrapbook. The current one is bursting.” 

Mike grinned, suddenly lifting her into his arms and twirling her around the room. “We’re heading into a great year, Lis. I forecast touchdowns ahead, in the game and at home. I’ll try hard not to let you down.”

“Let me down?” she repeated with incredulity. “That’s impossible. Not you, Mike. Never you.”  

#

Training Camp.

At the end of July 2009, a week after the wedding, Mike Brennan and his teammates gathered at Revere Stadium to prove what they could do. They wore their red-and-white short-sleeve practice uniforms for fun in the sun. Boot camp, NFL style. Talking the talk wouldn’t do it. Only walking the walk would.

Mike trotted from the locker room to the field and headed directly toward Nick Russo, the QB coach. Easy to find, Nick dressed all in white—his personal affectation—and seemed to glow. “Luke Skywalker with a growth spurt,” some of the guys joked last year. 

The top of Russo’s head was even with Mike’s nose, a fact that made the coach happy. “If my quarterbacks are taller than I am,” he’d say, “then they’ll be able to see over their linemen to find their receivers.” Little things, like height, made the man happy, but nothing made him happier than winning.

Mike was graced with the tall gene, the ideal 225 pounds, and the passion. The coaches wanted all three and then some more. He meant to give it to them. Russo and he were both young and had a lot to prove. The coach worked with surety, building a rapport and instilling confidence in his quarterbacks. He expected results. Mike had no problem with that. He had no problem with the heat, the humidity, or the fact that he, like the other eighty players, had just one month to make the cut. At the end of August, after four preseason games, the official roster would number fifty-three. He’d bust his ass to be on that list. 

“Your work’s cut out for you,” the coach greeted him while shaking hands. 

Mike nodded. “A batch of new receivers. I know. They swarmed me in the locker room. We’ll see what they can do.”

The coach chuckled. “You’re the QB.”

And the players vied for the QB’s attention. “I’m just the second backup, but I hear you.”

Nick’s glance pierced him. “You’ll work like you’re the starter.”

“Absolutely,” replied Mike, surprised at the comment to him. “I always do.” He maintained a quiet, firm tone.

The coach’s visual exam traveled from Mike’s head to his toes and back up, stopping at his eyes. The man’s intensity was palpable. “This is my career, too, Brennan. If you do well, I do well. Hear me?”

“I’m on the field for every play, even if it’s only up here,” Mike replied, pointing at his forehead. “I’m always thinking about what I would do and when I would do it.”

Russo listened, nodded, then asked, “So, how’s the wife?  Are you in town yet?”

Surprise and guilt stabbed Mike. His words popped out. “Who knew moving could be so complicated? But it’ll get done. Don’t worry.”

“You’re not driving back to the country tonight, are you?”  The coach’s tone suggested a trip to another planet.

Mike shook his head. “Nope. I’m flopping at my old place—it’s mine for a few more days. Lisa understands.”

“You can stay with me if you need to. No problem.”

“Thanks, but we’re moving next week.” It was reassuring to know, however, that the coach had his back. An alternative to a hotel would eliminate an extra expense. Of course, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t be concerned about expenses soon. He’d just heard that the Riders’ starting quarterback, Vince Shepherd, was getting a hefty one-point-five mil with another three mil in a signing and other bonuses covering the next two years. One day…one day…

In the meantime, his new family was moving to Charlestown, a working man’s neighborhood in the northern part of the city. The area had gone through a face-lift some years back, and they were lucky to have gotten a year-to-year lease on one of the red-brick row houses. He wasn’t ready to buy yet in case he got traded or was made a free agent. Their rental offered three large bedrooms, a big kitchen, and with quality public schools in the area, Lisa thought Charlestown would be a good spot for the kids. 

Everything was falling into place just as he’d envisioned. “So far, so good,” he muttered behind the wheel on his way to the apartment. 

Until the next crisis. Lisa’s voice echoed in his head. 

Not to worry, sweetheart. Team Brennan will make it work.