Page 4 of Raging Fires

“Aunt Nina!” Elizabeth called across the room to his grandmother. “Look, your grandson’s here!”

Gran looked over and saw him and hauled herself out of her chair. It was something of a production because she was a big woman and she had arthritis in both her knees. She wasn’t fat, really, but tall and solid, and once she got her knees moving, she steamed toward him like a train. Jake braced himself as she enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. It was a good thing he’d been putting in all that lower body training recently.

“Jakey.” Gran was the only one who could call him that.

“Gran.” There was that stupid lump in his throat again, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, breathing in the comforting scent of hairspray, Chanel No. 5, and Icee Hot ointment that was uniquely Gran.

Nina Kent stepped back and, seizing his chin in her hand, studied his face intently. “You’re too thin.”

“Gran... I weigh 235.”

She waved his comment away. “I’m not talking about weight.” Whatever that meant.

His grandmother was nobody’s picture of a sweet white-haired old lady. Her hair was black as night, though Jake was certain that was no longer its real color, and she was still strong. She liked to say that Jake got her hair and size and Pops’ blue eyes and athletic ability. Apparently his father had not made any contribution to Jake’s genetic code.

The most generous way to describe Gran’s personality was blunt and confident. Others, less diplomatic, called her rude and domineering. As far as Jake had ever been able to tell, she wasn’t scared of anything. And if you were in trouble, she always had your back.

“I’m glad you came. David would be so happy,” she said. There were tears in her eyes, and guilt twisted in Jake.

“I’m sorry. I should have come sooner.”

“Yes, you should have.” Gran didn’t pull her punches. “But you two were men, so...” She shrugged. “You’re both going to stand your ground. And David was tickled pink when you called and told us you were signing with the Pumas. That was his dream, you know, you playing here. So he was happy and at peace with you.”

“Okay. That’s good.” Didn’t stop the guilt, but at least it gave Jake some cover.

“Your mother flew in from Florida this morning. She’s upstairs lying down for a bit. It’s hard on her. But that nice doctor came with her. I think she got a better one the second time around—though I can’t understand this thing she has for doctors.”

Divorce, it seemed, wasn’t as bad if the person you divorced was a son-in-law Gran didn’t like, Jake thought sourly. Gran had sure ripped him up and down about it. As if he was the one who’d walked out. She could talk all she wanted about the ‘sanctity of marriage,’ but Jake had always thought it was just that Gran thought divorce was for sissies.

“Yeah, well, I guess that was one good thing about me playing in Miami.” Mom had met the ‘nice doctor’ when she’d been visiting him and Kelli. Kelli was the one who had fixed them up, naturally. She got off on arranging other people’s lives. Like Gran. It was no wonder Gran liked her.

His grandmother hauled him over to talk to all the other relatives and introduce him to friends and neighbors. As in any place where the Kents and O’Malleys got together, it was painful to the ears, with everyone talking louder and louder to be heard over all the noise, and now and then punctuated by bursts of laughter. Probably not what most people would think of in the way of condolence visits, but this crew couldn’t breathe without talking and laughter. The wake, when they added liquor to the mix, would doubtless be even more so. Pops would have loved it.

It wasn’t as bad as Jake had feared. Nobody ragged on him about the way he’d shot through a couple of years of stardom and then tanked. Mostly he just had to hug all the women and then he talked football with his uncles and cousins the rest of the time. His great-uncles, if you wanted to get technical about it, because they were all his grandparents’ siblings, for his mother had been an only child, just like him. But all the rest of them had had plenty of kids, so there were hordes of cousins of some sort or other, most of whom still lived here.

Eventually everyone left, though, and it was just him and his grandmother and his mom. Well, and the nice doctor, or course, whom everyone called Dr. Bob and who was, Jake had to agree, a lot better for his mother than his dad had been. His mother cried a lot, which always left him feeling helpless and incompetent, and all he could do was put his arm around and pat her back and tell her that her father was in a ‘better place.’ Which was not something that ever made sense to him, even when he was ten and his dog died and Gran had offered that same consolation. As he’d told her then, if there was a better place, why weren’t they already there?

Sitting with Gran was easier, even if she was talking about funeral arrangements and the mass tomorrow and how Father Jim—whose name was not Jim but something long that none of his parishioners could pronounce—would be so happy to see Jake. As far as Jake could remember, he’d never met the man in his life, but since Gran pretty much ran St. Catherine’s, Father Jim probably was glad to see whoever Gran wanted him to.

It was a relief when Asa Jackson dropped by, and Jake was able to get away. Asa was the Pumas’ best receiver, a wiry guy with speed, and he had played at ASU with Jake. They’d kept up through the years, even after Jake had screwed up. A lot of people hadn’t. Jake knew Asa had put in a good word for him with the Pumas management.

“I see you’ve gone with the dreads,” Jake told his friend as he grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge.

Asa nodded. “I see you’ve ditched the faux hawk.”

“Yeah, I looked like a douche.”

“I won’t disagree.” Asa grinned. Jake handed him one of the bottles, and they went out onto the back deck. “Sorry about your granddad. He was a good guy. I went by the Blue Shack to say hey to him sometimes.”

Jake picked at the label on the beer, not looking at Asa. “You, uh, you ever see Kelli?”

“Sure. I think that woman lives there.” Asa cut his eyes toward Jake. “She’s still a dime.” He paused at Jake’s blank expression. “Really? She’s a perfect ten. Even my father knows what that means.”

“Not everyone can be as cool as your dad and you, Asa.” Jake laughed.

“You ever see her anymore?”

“Nah. Too much baggage there,” Jake replied. “I mean, well, I saw her today.”