Walking Away, Epilogue

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Christmas Eve, Two Years Later

Tim woke up early on Christmas Eve. Well, 9 am was early for him on a day off. He showered and put on a clean pair of jeans, a Panthers t-shirt and the blue plaid flannel shirt that was Al's favorite. He went downstairs and found her sitting at the table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“You're up early,” she said, a bit surprised.

“And you're observant.”

He got a mug from the cupboard and walked over to the table, pausing in front of Al to put his free hand on her shoulder. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head and said quietly, “How are you today?”

She sighed and looked up with a small, grateful smile. “Not too bad, sad, but it's manageable.”

He nodded as he sat down and poured a cup of coffee. Al slid the sports section over to him and they read the paper in silence for a while.

“So, any plans for today?” he finally asked.

Al looked up at him and he thought he caught her impish grin. “Not so much. Unless you have something planned?”

He stood up and stretched. “I wouldn't call it a plan, exactly, but I was just thinking recently that we've known each other for more than two years and I've never once seen you play football.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. And I'm thinking that I need to verify these claims of yours. Can you really kick a field goal from 40 yards?”

“I could in high school, it's been awhile.”

“Now see, that right there sounds like you're chicken.”

“You are so wrong. Let's go then.” She whistled for Bruno and went to get her jacket and backpack.

He grinned at her indignation. It was so much fun to wind her up.

When they got outside, he opened the garage door and walked over to the workbench, where he'd left a couple of footballs.

“Nerf or regulation?”he asked, holding up both.

“Like you have to ask,” she scoffed.

He dropped the Nerf football and grabbed the little plastic holder for kicking.

“So, we need to see if you can kick footballs and if you can really tackle.”

“I can tackle. I have seven brothers, remember?”

“I know, but still, I be hundred bucks that you won't be able to tackle me.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You still owe me a hundred bucks from the last time we bet.”

“When was this?”

She opened her backpack and unzipped an inside pocket, then came out with a small leather holder. She opened a zipper on the holder, pulled out a tattered grocery receipt and handed it to Tim.

“Oh, right. From when the kids wrecked all my shirts and I had to raid Billy's closet. I remember now.”

“What else do you have in this secret treasure chest?” He grinned and grabbed the holder from her.

“Tim, give it back.” She tried to grab it from him, but his reflexes were too fast. He held it high above his head and laughed as she tried in vain to jump up and reach it.

“Collette, you make it too damn easy, you know? How tall are you again?”

“Four feet, ten and a half inches.” She was still trying to get at the leather holder.

“Oh, that last half-inch makes all the difference, doesn't it?”

She kicked him lightly in the shin and then stepped back and crossed her arms. He pulled himself up onto the workbench and brought the holder down, giving her a chance to take it if she really didn't want him to see what was in it. He looked at her for a second, making sure he had her permission. She nodded and looked down.

The small, rectangular case unzipped and opened up like a book. He looked inside. The hospital bracelet from when Avery was born. A picture of Avery from when she was a bit older, the girl sitting next to a stuffed monkey that was nearly as big as she was. Then there was a picture of Tim at the garage. He had no memory of it being taken, but he was leaning against a truck, arms folded and a big, warm smile on his face, like the person taking the picture had just made him laugh. He was guessing that person had been Al.

He zipped up the case and gave it back to her as he slipped off the workbench.

“Hey,” he said softly so she looked up at him, giving the small bashful smile she always did after she let him a little further into her life.

He walked over and put an arm around her shoulder. “C'mon, let's go play.”

He guided her over to his truck and she looked puzzled.

“But the park's just at the end of the street.”

“Yeah, but it doesn't have goalposts. We'll go where I played pee-wee back in the day.”

She was about to get into the truck, but then she told him she'd forgotten something and raced back into the house. While she was gone, he herded Bruno into the truck and pulled out his phone.

“Streeter? Yeah, give us maybe 20 minutes.... You don't want to get there too early. It'll look suspicious. Thanks.”

He tucked the phone back in his pocket and waited for Al to return.

“What you forget?” he asked when she returned.

“Huh?”

“You went in because you forgot something.”

“Oh, right, I forgot if I turned off the oven, so I went in to check.”

He raised an eyebrow and regarded her suspiciously, but then decided to let it slide. He put the truck in reverse and headed over to the park near Jason's house.

It was a beautiful day for December and it had been a surprisingly dry month. The field was dusty, reminding Tim of late summer practices. They walked across the field, tossing the ball between them to warm up, Bruno trotting happily beside them.

“Want to start with kick-offs? You used to set up at the 40?”

“Yeah.”

He set the ball up for her on the 40-yard line and then trotted out 20 yards. He grinned when she waved him back.

“Let's see what you got first, Mighty Mouse.”

He could hear her cursing under her breath as she took slow, measured paces back from the ball and then ran up and kicked it in one graceful motion, sending it up into a beautiful arc. He moved his head as he watched it sail over, dropping down around the 15 yard line.

“OK, so I may have underestimated you.” He shouted over his shoulder as he jogged back to collect the ball. He threw it back to her and moved to around the 20. He watched her set the ball up and then kick it, again a perfect kick, only this time he was ready.

He lined up under the ball and caught it. By force of habit, he cut across the field to get near the sideline, then ran hard up the field. He was puzzled to see that Al was running up the middle of the field and hadn't cut across to him yet.

He passed the 30, then the 25, and was about to pass the 20 yard line when Al slammed into his side, just under his ribs. Even though he had the obvious size advantage, she'd played it just right so that she was able to use his momentum against him to knock him off kilter and drive him down.

He hit the ground hard. The ball popped out of his hands and rolled a few yards up the field. Al wasted no time as she jumped up, grabbed the ball, and started to run in the other direction.

So she wants to play like that, he thought to himself as he popped up and took off after her. She was fast, but he was faster and managed to catch her near the 50 yard line. He timed his tackle perfectly, catching her just below the knees so he didn't crush or hurt her when they toppled to the ground.

Even so, he found himself holding his breath until he heard her laughter. She was tougher than he thought – he always had to remind himself of that fact. Then he heard clapping from the sidelines.

“Nice, Timmy, I see your way of wooing a woman hasn't changed since we were seven.”

“Jay Six.” Tim grinned.

He stood up and then pulled Al up off the ground. He walked over to the sideline to greet his friend.

He shook Jason's hand and then crouched down to greet Noah, who was wearing one of his father's old Panther's jerseys, the shirt nearly hanging down to his knees.

“Little Six,” he said, shaking the boy's hand.

“Good to see you again, Jason,” said Al.

“Noah,” Jason said, “I want you to meet Uncle Timmy's girlfriend, Miss Al.”

“Oh no, just call me Al.” She held out her hand to Noah.

“Al, you are going to ruin the good Southern manners I am trying to instill in my son. It's hard enough, you know, no one's got decent manners in New Jersey.”

“Noah, want to play with me for a minute, give your dad a chance to talk to Uncle Timmy?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran off, shouting at her to throw the ball to him. She tossed it to him and then ran over to him and took the ball. She sent him long, in the direction of the parking lot. Then she sent a spiral pass flying high over his head.

“She had a little too much on that one. Who's she think she's throwing to?” asked Jason.

“No idea,” said Tim distractedly.

Tim watched as Al called Noah over to her and said something to him that resulted in him nodding a lot and crossing his heart once. Then he ran back to them while Al jogged toward the parking lot where the ball had landed.

Tim's attention focused back on Noah when the boy arrived back to them.

“What was all that about?” he asked.

“Nothing. And I can't tell you anyway. Sorry, Uncle Timmy, but I promised,” Noah said with a serious expression on his face that made Tim grin.

“It's a secret, huh? Well, we've got secrets of our own here, so don't you say anything to Al, got it?”

Noah nodded and crossed his heart again. Tim turned to Jason.

“You got it?”

“Yeah, in the bag back there, inside pocket.”

Tim crouched behind the wheelchair and pulled out the velvet-lined box that was small enough to hide in his fist like a magician. He flipped the box open and smiled as he looked at the round-cut sapphire in a platinum setting. Perfect. He flipped the lid closed and stood up, slipping the box into his jacket pocket.

“Who's that with Al?” asked Noah.

“That would be Miss Tyra, and you will call her Miss Tyra no matter what she says, got it?” said Jason.

“Got it,” said Noah, bumping fists with his father.

When they got closer, Tim could see that Tyra was carrying the football. Al had her jacket off and was carrying it in her hands, holding one arm in a funny way.

Tyra greeted Jason and Noah, leaving Tim and Al to talk.

“You hurt your arm or something?” he asked, concerned that he might have hurt her while they were playing.

She shook her head and gave him her biggest impish grin. “Go on and have a seat on the bleachers there for a second.”

He did as she asked and didn't realize how set up he'd been until she told him to close his eyes. He felt her place something on his lap. He waited to open his eyes until she told him so, but he couldn't stop the happy, silly grin that broke out before he even opened his eyes.

The puppy was a dark grey wriggling mass with small floppy ears and a funny, squarish snout. It had a white spot on its chest and a white-tipped tail, which was currently wagging madly. Bruno came over to investigate, his head nearly bigger than the puppy's whole body.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked Al.

“Your very own Irish wolfhound. And he also comes with a crate, a leash, and several rounds of obedience classes.”

“I love him.”

“I'm sure he's going to love you too.”

“How did you manage to do this? I had no idea. Not a hint of it.”

Al grinned. “Remember that two-day class on transmissions that Billy sent me to in Austin last month?”

Tim nodded.

“There was no class. I went to Austin to meet with a breeder and pick out your puppy. And beg and plead with Tyra to help me with the pick up and delivery, which you can see she very graciously did.”

“Yeah, about that, I'm going to be sending you an itemized bill for two pairs of shoes and one throw rug,” said Tyra.

“What are you going to name him, Uncle Timmy?” asked Noah.

“I dunno, Noah. What would you name him?”

The boy shrugged. “Grey?”

A line from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon popped into his head. “I'll love him and I'll hug him and I'll name him George.”

“George is a good name,” said Al.

“I agree,” said Tyra.

“George,” called Jason, laughing when the puppy looked up.

“George it is then,” said Tim as he stood up. He put the puppy in Noah's lap.

“OK then, your turn. C'mere.” He reached out a hand and pulled Al over, motioning for her to sit down. She did as he asked and closed her eyes without being told.

Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out the box. He took a deep breath, glancing at Six for reassurance. His friend smiled and nodded. Tim knelt down and took Al's hand. He flipped the box open with his thumb.

“Open your eyes.”

He watched her eyes snap open and move from his face, to the ring, and back. Eyes widening first with surprise, then filling with tears.

“I've never met anyone who understands me as well as you do. I told you a long time ago that we make a great team. I still think that and now, I want to make it permanent. Al, will you marry me, please?”

Al nodded.

Tim sat down next to her. He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger, surprised that both of their hands were slightly shaking. He kissed her until Noah protested that it was yucky, which made Al giggle.

“Congratulations, guys,” said Jason. Al scrambled off the bleachers to hug Tyra and Jason.

Tim went over to hug Tyra, who looked really, genuinely happy for him.

“Mindy will tell you herself when she hears, but -”

“I know, Tyra, I know,” interrupted Tim in a tired voice. “She'll kick my ass into the middle of next week if I mess this up and hurt Al.”

Tyra smiled and shook her head. “No, well, I mean yes, that's true. But she isn't in the habit of repeating herself. That's not what I was going to say.”

“Then what is it?” Tim asked with a raised eyebrow.

“This is exactly what she hoped for when she told Al to stay.”

“That Al would find some guy?”

“No just a guy. You, Tim, you. Mindy always knew you two were made for each other.”

Tim smiled and gave Tyra another hug, whispering “Thank you” to her softly.

Al came over and put her arm around Tim's waist.

“So now it's my turn to ask. How'd you do this?”

“Well, like you, I had a trip with a plausible cover story and help from a friend.”

“Your visit to Jason this fall?”

“Yep, very good shopping in New York City. But in the end, I decided nothing was quite right and had that ring specially made, which took forever. Six kindly volunteered for pickup and delivery duty so I didn't have to worry about it getting lost when it was shipped.”

“You're good. This was a total surprise.”

“There's only one thing,” said Tim, looking down at her with a grin.

“What's that?”

“I need to know the real name of the woman I'm marrying.”

She shook her head.

“Tim, I don't even know her real name. She was Al before I was born. She's just always been Al,” said Tyra.

“You really don't know it yet? Billy hasn't told you?”

“Nope. And I've asked your brothers whenever they called and I answered the phone, but no one would give me even the slightest hint. You know, for such a little person, you inspire real fear in people.”

Al smiled. “That's how it should be.”

“Please tell me?” asked Tim.

Al sighed and looked up at him. She took his hand and dragged him halfway across the field, far enough from their friends that she wouldn't be overheard.

“C'mere, I'm only going to whisper this in your ear and I'm only going to say it once, so you better listen. And don't you dare repeat it out loud, no matter how funny it seems to you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Tim leaned way down and waited while Al brushed his hair back and cupped her hands around his ear like a little kid telling a secret.

He held his breath and waited. Her voice was almost lower than whisper-quiet.

“Angel Rose.”

She was right, he couldn't help it. The laughter exploded out of him, uncontrollable and loud. She thumped him hard in the arm, her little fist packing quite a punch.

That was a good name for a porcelain doll of a girl. Not the car-fixing, football-playing, hand-crushing, ass-kicking woman that he'd fallen in love with. The toughest woman he knew.

“It's a beautiful name,” he told her. “For someone else. You're definitely Al.”

“That's what I've been telling you.” She smiled.

He straightened up and noticed a familiar dark-haired figure approach Six and lean down to kiss his cheek. Al and Tim walked back to the bleachers.

“Uncle Timmy, this is Miss Lyla,” announced Noah proudly. He was sitting on the bleachers next to Tyra, both of them trying to keep the puppy from falling off the narrow bench, while Bruno looked on in quiet confusion.

Tim grinned. “Yeah, we've met. Good manners though, buddy.”

“Tim, Al.” Lyla nodded at them stiffly.

“Haven't seen your car in the garage in ages. Buddy find a mechanic up in Nashville that he trusts?” asked Al.

Lyla blushed. “Not exactly, but I told him my car, my problem, you know?”

“Garrity, how's Vanderbilt treating you?” Tim could see her trying to fight off her awkwardness and act naturally.

“Good, I graduate in the spring.”

“Lyla's trying to decide between med school and law school,” said Jason with a hint of pride in his voice.

Lyla ducked her head and started to mumble. “Well, I still need to get in somewhere. That might make my decision for me.”

“You're seriously considering both? Like you've taken the MCAT and the LSAT both?” asked Al.

Lyla nodded.

“Let me ask you a question – if you saw someone get hit by a car in the parking lot over there, what would you do?”

“Call 911, go over and see what the situation was, give first aid if possible.”

“And while you were giving first aid, what would you be thinking.”

Lyla closed her eyes and paused, picturing the situation and considering her possible reaction and thoughts.

“I'd follow the procedures I learned in first aid class and hope to God I didn't mess it up.”

“Med school, definitely,” said Al with a grin.

“Why?” asked Lyla.

“Because that's your instinct – to help someone else without thinking. If you were going to worry about liability or blame or responsibility, then you'd be better off in law school.”

As the girls talked, Tim looked around at his friends and thought about everything they'd been through and how they'd come out on the other side. He had always loved his friends and was grateful that they still cared about him, despite how much he'd screwed up along the way.

And then there was Al, who was leaning against him slightly. He felt like she was the one thing in his life that he'd gotten exactly right.

“Miss Lyla,” said Noah, bringing Tim's puppy over to him. “This is George, Uncle Timmy's new puppy. Al just gived it to him and then he gived her a ring and now they're going to get married. Well, maybe not like right this second, but some day soon.”

“Gave, Noah, not gived.” Jason corrected his son softly while giving Tim an apologetic smile.

Lyla looked up at Tim, her eyes wide with surprise.

“For real?” she asked.

“For real,” he said.

She looked flustered but recovered well, her voice warm and sincere as she wished them both congratulations and admired Al's ring.

“You know, y'all if I'd realized this was going to be a school reunion, I woulda invited Landry along,”said Tyra.

“Yeah and he'd invite Saracen.” Jason smiled.

“Who would bring Julie,” said Lyla.

Tim shrugged and pulled out his phone, passing it to Tyra. “Why not? We got all day.”

/fin
 

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Epilogue