“I guess you have to be dedicated to play at your level. Did you always want to be a rugby player?”
“No.” He gave her the grin. “I wanted to be a doctor. I thought you knew that.”
“I didn’t actually. We never talked about that kind of stuff.”
Hadn’t they? She’d told him about her dreams of being a photographer, of going to art school, and he’d listened. But he’d never told her about himself. There hadn’t been anything that interesting to share. Unless you counted sitting in the A&E department of the hospital most weekends as interesting.
“Oh, well, yeah, I wanted to be a doctor. After Mum died, I thought it would be a good thing to want to be.”
“So why didn’t you? Why rugby?”
“Dad needed looking after so I ended up missing a lot of school. He liked rugby and came to my games, though. At least in the early years.”
“You did a lot for him.”
“Yeah, I did.” And what had he gotten in return? Nothing but grief. “Pity he didn’t seem to see it that way.”
Judith stopped. “Why? What did he do?”
“Not sure I want to talk about this, darling.” Hell, he hated talking about his dad full stop. That period of his life wasn’t something he wanted to revisit. “It’s got nothing to do with the training session.”
She didn’t reply, but as he went to retrieve the ball, he could feel her gaze boring into his back.
“It’s very hard, having to look after people when you’re on your own,” she said after a moment. “Especially when they don’t seem to care about what you do for them.”
Slowly Caleb bent to pick up the ball, the leather cool under his fingertips. He’d tried, back in the car, to talk both her and himself out of her so-called date, training session, or whatever she wanted to call it. It felt too revealing somehow. But he’d changed his mind. If she wanted it where was the harm?
He didn’t think it would involve sharing confidences, though. Then again, he knew what she’d said meant something. That it hadn’t been casually offered. He couldn’t just ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to.
He turned around. She stood just under the crossbar of the goal, the floodlights highlighting the contrast between her black hair, white skin, and black dress. Her arms were folded, her chin lifted. As if daring him. She often looked like that, he realized with a sudden shock. Challenging and defiant, the way some people did when they were expecting to be smacked down.
“Why did you say that?” Caleb asked.
“Because looking after your father must have been really difficult. Especially after your mum died.”
His fingers pressed into the leather, holding on hard, anger knotting in his chest. “It was years ago. And he’s dead now, too.”
“You’re still angry.” It wasn’t a question.
He tried to grin. “I’m not angry.”
“Then why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Why don’t you talk about your mother?”
An expression of pain crossed Judith’s face and guilt wound up like a spring inside him. “Aw, shit, Jude. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“I don’t talk about my mother because it hurts,” she said. “Because I’m still really, really angry with her for leaving me. For leaving me alone to cope with Joseph and Dad. For being so damn selfish with her own pain. For leaving me when I needed her.”
His chest tightened at the sharp edge of anguish in her voice. In her eyes. In the way she said the words, letting him see it. Letting him see her. And he found himself wanting to offer something of himself in return, because after all, wasn’t being himself what he wanted tonight?
“I don’t talk about Dad for the same reasons. I spent years taking him to the hospital, cleaning him up, trying to get him well. He didn’t give a shit about any of that. He didn’t want to be a father. All he wanted to do was drink.”
“He left you, didn’t he? Not physically, but in spirit.”
Caleb looked down at the ball in his hands. Mainly so he didn’t have to look into her eyes and see the understanding in them. “I guess he did. Mum, at least, didn’t want to be sick. But Dad…he had a choice.
“And he didn’t choose you,” she said softly.
The tightness in his chest got even worse. Caleb began to walk back up the field, holding the ball. The shape of it was as familiar to him as a part of his own body, but for some reason he didn’t feel comforted. He just felt exposed. “Come on, let’s try this kick again.”
“Caleb,” Judith said in a low voice. “Don’t shut me out. Please.”