作者：辛西娅·托马森
出版社：外语教学与研究出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
再续前缘试读：
Chapter One
Rosalie pulled into one of the last remaining spots in the parking lot, got out of her car and checked her watch. "Three minutes," she grumbled. "I'll just make it if I run." She still had no idea why the high school principal had called this emergency meeting. His secretary had said he wanted as many of his faculty members who were in town to attend, so Rosalie had missed a lasagna dinner with her mother and her son to be here.
"Hey, Rosalie, wait up."
Spotting her friend and fellow teacher coming across the pavement, Rosalie motioned for Shelby to hustle. "At least there's someone who's even later than I am," she said when Shelby had fallen into step beside her. "Do you know what this is about?"
"No clue," Shelby said. "But I'd rather be anywhere but here. The last thing I want to think about in July is school."
Rosalie held the door open to the three-story brick building and let Shelby go in ahead of her. "I hope Canfield's not expecting us to volunteer for landscaping duty this summer," she said. "I'm working more hours at Mom's produce stand, and I've increased my hours at the Brighter Day Center."
"Why's that? Have there been any deaths in town recently that I haven't heard about?"
"No, but grief is an ongoing thing. The more we volunteers can counsel grieving kids at the center, the faster they can get on with their lives."
Shelby frowned. "I wonder if being around all that sadness is really good for you, Rosalie."
"It's been sixteen years since my brother died, Shel."
"Okay, message received. Forget I said anything."
They approached the media center at the end of the school's main hallway. The doors were open. Rosalie caught the subtle aroma of old books, always a welcoming scent to English teachers or anyone who spent a good part of their childhood nestled in a corner of a library. Once they entered the room, the delicious mustiness would be combined with the even subtler smell of modern-day plastic coming from the bank of computers taking up an entire wall.
The media center was buzzing with activity. Apparently Principal Canfield's calling tree system had worked. Rosalie estimated that nearly three-quarters of the faculty were present along with dozens of booster parents and prominent citizens.
Dexter Canfield, dressed in tan pants and a golf shirt, stood behind the media director's desk chatting with a group of Whistler Creek's most influential citizens including Roland Benton, owner of the town's largest employer, Benton Farms. When Canfield pounded a gavel, the hundred or so attendees stared up at him. Rosalie and Shelby spoke quick greetings to fellow faculty members and took seats in the back.
In his most impressive baritone, the voice Canfield reserved for public address announcements and greetings at halftime sporting events, he thanked everyone for coming and assured the crowd they would not be disappointed. Wasting no time, he proclaimed that a stroke of unbelievable good fortune had befallen the town of Whistler Creek.
"We all regret the recent retirement of Bucky Lowell," he said. Heads nodded. The revered football coach had been an institution at Whistler Creek High for as long as Rosalie could remember. At the end of the last school year, on the advice of his doctor, the seventy-three-year-old Bucky had stowed away his whistle and closed his game book for the last time. Since then speculations had run wild about who the board would hire to replace him. The man had never had a losing season, a record no other Georgia high school coach had achieved.
"Well, hang on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen," Canfield said, "because Bucky's replacement is waiting to come into the room. He signed a contract yesterday, and I think you'll all agree that the Wildcats couldn't have made a better pick if we'd ordered his credentials from the Almighty."
Rosalie studied the expressions of those around her. Some faculty members chuckled. Others shook their heads in bewilderment. A few mumbled guesses about who could possibly fill the shoes of the great Bucky. And then the wait was over. Canfield went to the door of a storage room, opened it wide and in stepped one of Whistler Creek's native sons and former honored gridiron star. He was also the heir to Benton Farms, the area's largest agribusiness and supplier of produce to much of the U.S. Southeast.
When recognition dawned among the old-timers, enthusiastic applause broke out. And Rosalie couldn't seem to draw a breath. It couldn't be. It was. Bryce Benton, wearing a Texas Tech Athletic T-shirt and ball cap, strode to the desk and stood with his hands clasped in front of him waiting for Dexter Canfield to say something.
Rosalie hadn't spoken to Bryce in over fifteen years. She'd only spotted him in town a couple times since he'd left for college, and she'd always turned the other way. But looking at him now, exuding a casual confidence that came with pedigree, adulation and just the right amount of sun-weathered texture to his skin, she felt the years melt away. She swallowed. For all her efforts to move on with her life, she could have been seventeen again.
She'd never dreamed Bryce would give up his career at Texas Tech. But here he was. For some inexplicable reason, he'd apparently chosen to abandon his upward climb at the university to come home and coach at little old Whistler Creek High. Bryce was the onetime all-state wide receiver of the Whistler Creek Wildcats, the future agribusiness magnate and, most important, devastating to Rosalie on so many levels, he was her son Danny's biological father.
Shelby snickered. "What the hell is Canfield doing? Looks like he's bringing his prize stallion into the show ring for all to admire." She nudged Rosalie in her ribs. "And he definitely is a prize!"
Somehow Rosalie found her voice. "You don't know Bryce, do you?"
Shelby, who'd come to Whistler Creek only three years before, grinned. "Not yet. Is he single?"
"Divorced." Whistler Creek was a small town, and over the years the most important details of Bryce's life had filtered down to Rosalie. Not that she'd asked to hear them.
She stared at the tabletop in front of her. She couldn't look at him, couldn't stand to watch that ruggedly handsome face turn smug with the praise of a public that had obviously forgotten all the details of Bryce's background. Forgotten or forgiven.
Thinking back to when she was a gullible teenager, she felt a flush of shame heat her cheeks. She had once believed she was in love with Bryce Benton, the very same guy who'd just allowed himself to be paraded into the limelight of his expectant hometown crowd as if he were Dexter Canfield's gift to the people of Whistler Creek.
Some mistakes could never be lived down. And some just hurt forever.
Standing in front of people he'd never met before as well as old friends he hadn't seen in years, Bryce felt like a damn fool. Canfield had told him to wait in the wings until he'd made the announcement just so he could pique the interest of the crowd. Bryce had argued that such a plan was ridiculous, but in the end, he'd let Canfield have his way thinking maybe it was better that Dexter prepared the crowd for the return of a prodigal son. Bryce had only come home to Whistler Creek a couple dozen times in the last fifteen years. Now, with something like one hundred pairs of eyes drilling into him, he knew he'd been manipulated into being the featured sideshow event for Canfield's three-ring circus.
He shook his head, raised his hands palms up in an effort to stop the flow of excited chatter that filled the room. When he'd been offered the job to replace Bucky, he'd jumped at the chance. Coaching at Whistler Creek was what he wanted. His goal since college had always been to mentor and guide high school kids on the verge of manhood and possible greatness. Despite the tragedy that would always haunt him, coming home to the town and school that had nurtured him through the years had been the fulfillment of a dream. Now he felt like a trick pony waiting to be led through his paces.
Beaming at Bryce, Canfield said, "I coaxed him away from Texas Tech, and I wanted all of you to share in this victory for the Whistler Creek High Athletic Department."
Coaxed him away, Bryce thought. He'd taken a ten thousand a year pay cut to be here, and still signed on the bottom line without a moment's hesitation. Most people would say he should have his head examined.
But Bryce gambled on possibilities. And the options for changing lives at the head coaching level at Whistler Creek far surpassed those as the assistant offensive coach at Texas Tech. And then there was his dad, who was sitting here tonight. His health had suffered a blow. He needed his son, wanted him to come home.
He looked into his dad's eyes now, saw the pride there and took a deep breath. "Folks, you all have a seat. This isn't so much a celebration as a chance to get acquainted. Or reacquainted as is the case with many of you."
"Are you kidding, Bryce," the president of the Georgia State Bank shouted from the side of the room. "This could be the best football season we've ever had."
Bryce tried to smile and slanted a glance at Bucky Lowell who sat nearby. "I don't know about that," Bryce said, gesturing at Bucky. "Coach Lowell here has left me some pretty big shoes to fill, so let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've all got a lot of work to do. The players, the coaching staff, most of all, me. I think we should save the celebrating until we get a few wins under our belts."
Dexter Canfield continued to grin like the top salesman on a used car lot. "Now you see why I called you here today. We appreciate everything Bucky has done for this program, but today is the beginning of a new era for Whistler Creek athletics. We need to start now, preparing our boys, getting behind our new coach, redoubling our efforts as Wildcat parents and supporters."
"I appreciate all the enthusiasm tonight and in the future," Bryce said. "But let's remember that the ones who need our support most are the young men who'll soon sweat their guts out on the field once practice starts." He paused before adding, "Football in Whistler Creek always has been, and will continue to be, a community effort. Thanks for coming today and for giving me this welcome. But as far as I'm concerned, you can all go on home now, knowing that my office in the athletic building is always open."
He remembered the furor surrounding games in the past and doubted Bucky had kept that same open-door policy for his many years at Whistler. Bryce hoped he wouldn't regret making that statement.
As the meeting wound down, he endured countless handshakes and pats on the back before the last of his well-wishers left the media center. Then he said goodbye to Canfield and walked with his father to the school parking lot. When they stepped into the humid July air of a South Georgia evening, Bryce took his dad's elbow and held him back. "Let's wait until everyone is in their cars," he said.
Roland Benton smiled. "A little uncomfortable with all this excitement, are you, son?"
"Yeah. I didn't anticipate this kind of welcome. I've been gone a long time."
"True, but you've always wanted to come back."
Bryce waved to a man who put down his car window and gave him a thumbs-up sign. "I didn't think it would be like this. You know how it is, Dad. When expectations run too high, everyone can end up disappointed and disillusioned."
"Just do your job, Bryce," Roland said. "No one can ask more. And no one should expect more than your best effort." He smiled. "That's all you'll ask of the players, right?"
"True enough." Seeing the parking lot emptying out, Bryce stepped onto the pavement. He saw two women chatting between cars about a hundred feet down the lot. He stared for a moment before a familiar pang pierced his heart. Could it be? He recognized the lush curls of black hair that fell to one woman's shoulders. "Dad, isn't that Rosalie Campano?"
Roland squinted. "Sure is."
"Is her mother still running her produce stand on Fox Hollow Road?"
"Yes, indeed. Claudia is one of our best local customers. Rosalie still lives with her. You know Rosalie teaches at the high school now?"
"Yeah. Mom told me that a few years back. I should have known she'd be here when I heard Canfield had called the faculty out for this show." Bryce had thought a lot about Rosalie over the years. She'd been an important part of his life at one time—until the day he'd brought so much grief into hers.
Rosalie laughed as she carried on a conversation with the other woman. Bryce recalled the bright, bubbly sound of her voice. "Is her name still Campano?" he asked.
"You mean did she ever get married?"
"Yeah."
"No. She's single. Came close a time or two from what I understand, but it didn't work out."
Rosalie had never married? Bryce tried to rein in his careening thoughts. Roland took Bryce's arm and gently tugged him toward their car parked in the opposite direction.
"Wait," Bryce said, knowing he could be treading on emotional quicksand. "I want to say hello."
"Maybe now's not a good time..."
"Why not? I'm going to be seeing a lot of Rosalie. We'll be working in the same building, maybe teaching some of the same kids." Bryce was already several steps ahead of his dad. "Now's the perfect time."
It was crazy. Bryce knew that. But the closer he got to Rosalie, the more his heart pounded. For Pete's sake. It had been almost sixteen years since Ricky had died. They'd each gone on with their lives. But heck, she was right there across the lot, where she couldn't refuse his phone calls. Bryce always wondered if maybe he'd get the chance to tell her again how sorry he was for what happened. So he quickened his footsteps.
And then she looked up and trapped his gaze. It was only a quick glance, almost as if she hadn't noticed him at all. But her smile faded and she turned again to her friend, said something brief and got in her car. Bryce stopped dead. Before he could have reached her, she'd backed her red compact car out of its space and was headed to the street.
And for the second time that night, Bryce felt like an idiot.
第一章
停车场的车位已经所剩无几，罗莎莉把车停好，下了车，看了看表。“只有三分钟了，”她嘟囔着，“跑几步应该不会迟到。”她还是不明白校长为什么要召开这次紧急会议。他的秘书说，校长想让在镇里的教职工都参加。为了来这里参加会议，罗莎莉都没来得及与妈妈和儿子一起吃卤汁面的晚餐。“嗨，罗莎莉，等等我。”
罗莎莉看见她的朋友兼同事谢尔比正从车道对面走过来，示意她快点。“好歹还有人比我到得更晚。”说这话时，谢尔比已经跟上了她的脚步，“知道会议的内容吗？”“不知道，”谢尔比说，“去哪儿都不想来这儿，7月份我最不愿想起的就是学校。”
罗莎莉打开了一座三层砖楼的门，让谢尔比先进去。“但愿坎菲尔德不要指望我们会自愿报名参加今年夏天的绿化任务。”罗莎莉说，“我得多抽点时间帮妈妈摆摊儿，再说我已经增加了在‘光明之日中心’的工时。”“这是为什么？难道最近又有些孩子失去了父母？我怎么没听说？”“没有，但失去亲人的悲痛会持续很久。我们志愿者多去中心，多去开导这些伤心的孩子，他们就能早一天恢复正常的生活。”
谢尔比皱起眉头，“那里的悲伤氛围似乎对你没好处啊，罗莎莉。”“我哥哥走了已经有十六年了，谢尔。”“好吧，我知道了。就当我没说。”
她们俩来到了学校主干走廊尽头的多功能厅。门是敞开的。罗莎莉闻到了一股淡淡的旧书香味。对于英文教师，或者任何一个曾窝在图书馆的某个角落度过一段美好童年时光的人来说，这种味道永远都是宜人的。一走进多功能厅，这股诱人的霉味中便混入了另一种更加不易察觉的味道，那是一整面电脑屏幕墙散发出的现代塑料味。
多功能厅里人声鼎沸。显然坎菲尔德校长的呼叫中心系统奏效了。罗莎莉估摸着将近四分之三的教职工都到了，还有几十位热心家长和杰出市民。
德克斯特·坎菲尔德身穿一件高尔夫球衫，一条棕褐色裤子，站在多功能厅主席台后面，与一群惠斯勒溪小镇最重量级的市民攀谈着，罗兰·本顿就是其中之一。他是镇上最大雇主本顿农庄的主人。坎菲尔德敲了一下木槌，上百号与会者都抬头注视着他。罗莎莉和谢尔比向同事们匆匆打了声招呼，坐在了后排。
坎菲尔德用他最具威严的男中音，感谢了到场的每一位，并向所有人保证今天大家一定不会失望。通常在进行广播通告或是在体育比赛中场休息发表问候致辞的时候，才能听到校长用这样的声音说话。他迫不及待地宣布，让人难以置信的好运已经在惠斯勒溪小镇降临。“我们都为近日布基·洛厄尔的退休而感到遗憾。”他说。大家都点了点头。从罗莎莉记事起，这位受人尊敬的橄榄球教练就一直是惠斯勒溪高中的知名人物。上个学年末，七十三岁的布基听从了医生的建议，收起他的口哨，永久地合上了他的比赛记录本。自那以后，人们纷纷猜测学校董事会将聘请谁来接替布基。他从未输过一个赛季，这一记录在佐治亚州的高中教练中无人能敌。“好吧，准备好了吗，女士们，先生们。”坎菲尔德说，“因为接替布基的人现在就在门外！他昨天刚刚签了合约。相信大家都会赞同，野猫队教练非他莫属，他简直就是全能的上帝派来的。”
罗莎莉观察了一下周围同事的表情。有些人在窃笑，有些人茫然地摇着头。有几个咕哝着猜测能接替传奇教练布基之职的会是何方神圣。接着，等待的时刻结束了。坎菲尔德走向储藏室门口，将门敞开，里面走出来的是惠斯勒溪小镇土生土长的一个小伙子，曾经备受尊敬的橄榄球明星。他也是本顿农庄的继承人。本顿农庄是当地最大的农业综合企业，为美国东南部的大部分地区供应农产品。
年长的人认出了这位新教练，会场内立刻响起热烈的掌声。而此时罗莎莉似乎连深吸一口气都觉得困难。不可能是他。可的确是他。身穿一件得州理工大学的运动T恤衫，头戴一顶棒球帽，布赖斯·本顿大步流星地走到主席台前站定，双手交握放于身前，等着德克斯特·坎菲尔德继续他的发言。
罗莎莉已经有十五年没和布赖斯说过话了。他去上大学以后，她只在镇上见过他几次，而且总是避开他。眼前的他，浑身都散发着自信，这种自信源自家世门第，公众崇拜，还有他那被太阳晒得刚刚好的肤质，她看着他，仿佛又回到了从前。她吞咽了一下。尽管她尽一切努力让自己向前看，可这一刻她好像又回到了十七岁。
她从未想到布赖斯会放弃在得州理工大学的工作。可他就在眼前。令人费解的是，他显然放弃了自己在大学蒸蒸日上的事业，选择回到家乡，在这所规模不大、建校久远的惠斯勒溪高中当教练。布赖斯曾经是惠斯勒溪野猫这支州代表队的接球手，是未来农业综合企业的巨头。最重要的是，他的回来对罗莎莉来说，无论在哪方面，都是一种致命的打击，因为他就是她儿子丹尼的亲生父亲。
谢尔比偷笑着，“坎菲尔德到底在干什么呢？搞得像是把自己的冠军种马带到评比会场，好让所有人都瞻仰一番。”她用肘碰了碰罗莎莉的腰，“不过他的确是匹良驹！”
罗莎莉终于回过神来，“你不认识布赖斯，对吧？”
谢尔比三年前才来到惠斯勒溪，她嬉笑着，“还不认识，他是单身？”“离婚了。”惠斯勒溪是个小镇子，多年来，关于布赖斯生活的重要细节总能传到罗莎莉的耳朵里。不是她故意要打听的。
她盯着身前的桌面。她没办法看着他，无法忍受看着这张粗犷英俊的面孔在人们的赞美声中变得自鸣得意。人们显然已经忘记了布赖斯过去的一切。忘记了，或者说，原谅了。
回想起当年那个年少无知的自己，她感到一阵羞愧，面颊发烫。布赖斯·本顿，这个她曾经认为自己爱过的人，就是眼前的这个人，刚刚在家乡父老乡亲期盼的目光中风风光光地走进来，仿佛自己真的是德克斯特·坎菲尔德带给惠斯勒溪小镇人民的礼物。
有些错误是没法忘却的。有些则是一辈子的痛。
站在这里，面对着一张张陌生的面孔，还有多年未见的老友，布赖斯觉得自己像个傻子。之前，为了引起听众的好奇，坎菲尔德让他随时待命，待他宣布了接任的消息之后再出来。布赖斯起先反对这个可笑的安排，后来又同意了坎菲尔德的做法，觉得在宣布他这个浪子回家前，先由德克斯特作点铺垫，让大家心里有所准备可能会好些。在过去十五年里，布赖斯回到家乡惠斯勒溪的次数屈指可数。现在，台下有一百双眼睛盯着他，他觉得自己的出现就像是坎菲尔德安排的大型马戏团表演穿插的一场特色串演。
布赖斯摇摇头，抬起双手，掌心朝上，试图让多功能厅内兴奋不已、唧唧喳喳的人们安静下来。当有接替布基一职的工作机会的时候，他立即就接受了。在惠斯勒溪高中当教练正是他梦寐以求的。自大学起，他就一直立志于成为高中生的良师益友，在成长的道路上指引他们，把他们培养成杰出人才。尽管过去的那场悲剧永远都挥之不去，回到养育他多年的家乡和母校却圆了他的梦。这会儿他觉得自己就像一匹马戏团的小马，等候着主人带着他一展身手。
坎菲尔德笑容满面地看着布赖斯说，“是我哄着让他离开得州理工的，我希望大家一同分享我们惠斯勒溪高中体育部的胜利。”
哄着我离开？布赖斯心想。回来就意味着年薪少了一万，可他仍然毫不犹豫地在合同最下栏签了字。大多数人都会认为他脑子坏掉了。
但布赖斯愿为不可预知的未来赌上一把。作为惠斯勒溪高中橄榄球队的主教练，要比在得州理工当攻方助理教练有更多改变自己人生的机会。还有就是为了今晚坐在会场里的父亲，他的健康一度遭到重创。他需要他的儿子，希望他能回家。
布赖斯此时瞥了一眼自己的父亲，看到父亲眼里流露出自豪的神情。他深吸了一口气，“各位，请你们都坐下。今天不是一场庆祝会，而是想借此机会和大家认识一下。或者说和这里的好多人重新认识一下。”“你在开玩笑吧，布赖斯？”坐在会场另一侧的佐治亚州立银行总裁大声说道，“今年的橄榄球赛季没准就是有史以来最棒的。”
布赖斯勉强微笑着，斜瞟了一眼坐在旁边的布基·洛厄尔，“我可不敢说，”布赖斯指了指布基，“我不知道自己能否像洛厄尔教练一样干得那么出色，所以现在高兴还为时过早。我们要做的事情还有很多。球员们，教练们，尤其是我。我觉得应该等我们赢几场球赛之后再来庆祝。”
德克斯特·坎菲尔德又像二手车场的顶级销售员那样笑着，他接着说，“现在你们明白今天到这儿来的原因了吧。我们感激布基为球队付出的一切努力，不过今天也开启了惠斯勒溪橄榄球运动的新纪元。野猫队的家长和支持者们，我们必须从现在开始，加倍努力，让孩子们做好准备，支持我们的新教练。”“非常感谢大家今晚以及今后对我的热情，”布赖斯说，“但我们一定要记住，最需要支持的是球队的小伙子们。一旦开始训练，他们就要在赛场上奋勇拼搏了。”他停顿了一下，又接着说，“橄榄球队一直以来都离不开惠斯勒溪人民的支持，今后也一样。感谢你们今晚来到这里欢迎我。我想，今晚就到这儿吧，体育大楼里我的办公室门永远向大家敞开。”
他想起了过去那些狂热的比赛，不知道布基在惠斯勒的这些年，是否仍然采用开放政策。布赖斯希望自己不会对刚才说的话感到后悔。
会议已接近尾声，无数人上前和他握手，拍拍他的后背。等到最后一个祝福者离开多功能厅后，他向坎菲尔德告了别，和父亲一起朝学校停车场走去。布赖斯走出办公楼，呼吸着7月南佐治亚夜晚潮湿的空气，他一把拉住父亲的胳膊肘，让他停下脚步，“等大家都上了车我们再过去。”他说。
罗兰·本顿笑了，“大伙儿这么激动，让你有点不自在了是吗，儿子？”“是啊！没想到会受到这么热烈的欢迎。我已经离开这儿很久了。”“没错，不过你不是一直都想回来嘛。”
一个伙计摇下车窗，向布赖斯竖起了大拇指，布赖斯朝他挥了挥手，“我没想到会是这样。你知道的，爸爸。期望太高，到头来往往是空欢喜一场。”“做好你的本职工作就行了，布赖斯，”罗兰说，“没人会提出过分的要求。尽最大努力就行了，没人会对你有过多的要求。”他微笑着，“这也是你对球员的全部要求，对吗？”“的确如此。”这时停车场已经空荡荡了，布赖斯走上了车道，看见一百英尺开外的地方，有两个女人在两辆车之间交谈着。他盯着看了一会儿，忽然心头一阵熟悉的刺痛。可能是她吗？他认出了她那头浓密的黑色披肩卷发，“爸爸，那不是罗莎莉·坎帕诺吗？”
罗兰眯了眯眼睛，“是她。”“她妈妈还在福克斯霍洛路的摊位卖东西吗？”“是的，没错。克劳迪娅是我们最好的本地客户之一。罗莎莉还是和她住在一起。你知道罗莎莉现在在高中教书吧？”“知道。几年前从妈妈那儿听说了。坎菲尔德说要召集全体教师开这个会的时候，我就应该知道她会来。”这么多年来，布赖斯经常想起罗莎莉。她一直都是他生命中重要的一部分——直到他带给她巨大伤痛的那天。
罗莎莉还在和那个女人聊着，边说边笑。布赖斯记得她明亮欢快的嗓音，“她还是姓坎帕诺？”他问道。“你的意思是她有没有结过婚？”“是的。”“没有。她还是单身。据我所知，有一两次差点就结了，可后来又没成。”
罗莎莉一直没结婚？布赖斯努力控制着自己纷繁杂乱的思绪。罗兰拽着布赖斯的手臂，轻轻把他拉转身，朝着他们的车走去。“等等！”布赖斯说。他明白自己可能又会陷入感情的流沙，“我想打个招呼。”“也许现在不是好时机……”“为什么不呢？我和罗莎莉会经常见面的。我们会在同一栋楼上班，或许还会教同一帮学生。”布赖斯已经走到了父亲的前头，“现在正是时候。”
简直是疯了。布赖斯心里清楚。越靠近罗莎莉，他的心跳得越快。看在“上帝”的分上！里基去世已经差不多有十六年了。他和她都继续过着各自的生活。哦，见鬼，她就在那儿，就在停车场的另一边，距离近得都没法故意不接他的电话。布赖斯一直在想能否有机会再一次告诉她，对于那件事，他是多么抱歉。于是，他加快了脚步。
这时她抬起了头，目光与他相撞，却只是匆匆一瞥，就像完全没注意到他一样，然而脸上的笑容已经消失了。她转向她的同伴，匆匆说了几句就钻进了车里。布赖斯呆住了。还没等他靠近，她的红色小车已经倒出了车位，向大路驶去。
今晚又一次，布赖斯觉得自己像个傻瓜。
Chapter Two
Shortly after the meeting at the high school broke up, Rosalie came in the back door of the home she still lived in with her mother. She reached down and scratched behind Dixie's ear. The golden retriever nuzzled her soft nose against Rosalie's jeans. The scent of fresh baked bread and pungent Italian spices filled the welcoming kitchen. A half-filled dish of lasagna sat on the table along with the remains of a salad in a seasoned wooden bowl. Rosalie called out, "Mom, you here?"
Drying her hands on a towel, Claudia came out of the pantry. "There's plenty of lasagna left, Rosalie," she said. "I'll heat up a plateful if you're hungry."
"No, thanks. I'm going out in a little while."
"Oh? You seeing Ted?"
Her mother was one of the few people who knew Rosalie had accepted a few dates with Whistler Creek High's baseball coach. Rosalie tried to keep her personal life private. "No. He's got his kids this weekend. I'm meeting Shelby downtown at the Creek Side Tavern." She stepped to the entry to the living room and looked around. "Is Danny here?"
"No. His friends picked him up twenty minutes ago."
Rosalie sighed with relief, pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped into it. "Good. I don't have to pretend that everything's okay then."
"You certainly don't have to pretend with me," Claudia said. "I've already heard. Sharon Potter was at the meeting and she called me when she got home."
"Then you know about our new football coach."
"I know." Claudia shook her head. "I always thought Bryce would come back here, especially after his divorce. And now his father had that bypass surgery..."
Rosalie blew out a long breath. "I always prayed he wouldn't return."
Claudia pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her
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