“Excuse me,” Aaron grumbled as his phone rang. He stepped away from the group, pulling his phone from his pocket and answering it. I looked down at Diego who was still silently observing Aaron even though his back was now to us and he walked farther away.
“Hey, little guy, you want to get in the race?” Tyler asked, picking Diego up when he reluctantly broke his gaze away from Aaron to answer yes.
Carter’s family followed Tyler, who had Diego up on his shoulders. The coaches had set up a relay race for the kids, followed by a potato sack race.
“What was that about?”
Carter shook his head a little. “Aaron’s always had a weird way with children. He’s obviously not the most charming or easiest guy to get along with, but children and animals always seem so drawn to him.”
“Animals too?” I questioned.
Carter nodded. “We had a dog named Georgie growing up. Tyler chose the dumbass name. Damn thing followed Aaron everywhere. When we left the house in the morning, he’d whine and sit by the door all day until Aaron returned home. Slept right outside his door. Strangest thing.”
“He must’ve been nice to Georgie.”
Carter shook his head adamantly again. “No. That’s the odd part. He all but ignored him. Said pets were frivolous endeavors he didn’t have time for. But Georgie never let up, not until the day he died. After that, Aaron was adamant that we not have anymore pets.”
Before I could respond, a yelling sounded and I looked up to see Aaron barking at some poor soul on the other end of his phone.
“I don’t have time for this shit!” he snarled.
I’ve always heard of animals and children being attached to certain people who were just innately kind or sweet?like teachers or social workers?but as I glanced at the man reaming someone out over the phone, I knew he wasn’t anything like that. He was a complete enigma.
“Want to get in on the sack race?” Carter questioned, taking my hand in his.
I nodded, laughing. “I’m going to kick your butt,” I teased.
“I just might let you, sugar.”
The next few hours were filled with laughter, fun, and lots of food as the team had provided more than enough of everything for the families of their players. A few times I took notice of the photographers that had evidently been hired by the team owners, but didn’t think too much of it.
“Enjoying yourself, hun?”
I grinned, looking over at Mrs. Townsend, whose eyes were now covered with square-framed sunglasses.
“Yes, Mrs. Townsend, I am. I can’t thank Tyler enough for inviting us to come with Carter and share the day with you all.”
She waved a manicured hand in the air. “My eldest wouldn’t have allowed this day to go by without your being here. Let’s get some shade.” She hooked her arm in mine and we started in the direction of the sidelines where there was a large canopy set up with beverages on a table.
“I’ve been attending football games since Tyler was seven years old.”
“I guess you’re a huge football fan by now.”
“Oh no, hun. I still abhor the sport.” She pressed her free hand to her chest.
“Really? All this time and you haven’t grown accustomed to it?”
She shook her head, her dark tendrils of hair falling around her shoulders. “Not in the least. What’s to like about a sport in which the objective of the opposing team is to tackle my son to the ground and strip him of a ball made out of pigskin of all things?” We both laughed.
“I see your point. Diego has been begging me to put him in the pee-wee league for more than a year now but it frightens me. Lately, though, he’s been thinking of being a firefighter when he grows up instead of a football player.” I snapped my mouth shut, not meaning to reveal as much.
“Yes,” she stated as we stopped at the table, both of us taking cups filled with Gatorade. “My son appears to be just as smitten with your little Diego.” She smiled, glancing out on the field. I turned to look in the same direction to see Diego running with a football under his right arm, being chased by Carter and Tyler. Everything inside of me warmed at seeing the effervescent smile on Diego’s face when Carter caught him, lifting him high in the air.
“They love hard, you know.”
Her comment drew my attention from my love and my son back to her. “I’m sorry, what was that, Mrs. Townsend?”
“We’re past familiarities, hun. Call me Deborah. I said, they love hard.” She nodded toward her family. “Those men. All of them. They’re all unique in their own way, most obvious in how different they appear from one another, but just as those freckles are a common trait among the Townsend men so is the depth at which they love. You can rely on it, depend on it just as sure as you can bank on the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.”
