A Time To Protect. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ the goalie who was twice her size looming, she drop-passed the ball to teammate Emily Cornell, who promptly rocketed it into the net.

      “Did you see that?”

      Brendan felt a thwack against his back and fought to catch his breath. Coach Buddy Jeffers might think he was worn out, but it was evident from the thumping on Brendan’s left shoulder that Buddy’s strength had only been in hiatus and was now back full force.

      The players rushed toward them, faces beaming with delight.

      “You are an awesome team!” Brendan cheered, slapping each one on the back. “Now we’ve only got a few minutes left in the game and we need one more goal. Can you do it?”

      Unanimous agreement. He cut short his pep talk and asked them to try the attack they’d worked out at the last practice.

      “You faked them out pretty good on that last pass. So think about that and play your hardest. Go, Springers!”

      They surged onto the field and took possession of the ball almost immediately. One minute twenty seconds left and they lost it. Brendan could have cried but he clenched his fists and willed them on. Madison Tanner yelled something at the girl across from her. A moment later the two of them took off down the field, Madison clearing the way. She accepted a pass, then before her opponent could attack, whisked the ball across to Emily. A second later it was in the net.

      Brendan laughed out loud and quickly stepped out of Buddy’s way as the coach did his jiggy dance. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Less than a minute remained on the clock. The other team could easily tie the game. He called a time out.

      “We need one more goal, don’t we?” Madison’s heart-shaped face shone with perspiration. “Otherwise they can tie it and they’ll get into the finals because they have more points than us. Right, Coach Jeffers?”

      Buddy’s face sobered. “You’re right, Madison.”

      “So we need another goal.” Brendan glanced at the weary group. “I’m thinking our number eight play might just work. Want to give it a try?”

      The majority looked dubious, and why not? Number eight was hard to execute. But they had enough time for only one chance.

      “They’re pretty big, Coach. We look like midgets next to them.”

      “That’s why we need to try it, Emily. They make good targets.” The other kids chuckled at his joke. “Listen, you have really shown what a good team you are. If you want to try something else, we’ll do it. What do you think?”

      Nobody said a word.

      “All I know is, we worked hard to get here and I’m not giving up yet. Not when we could get into the finals.” Madison stood with her tiny feet planted on the grass, daring the other players. “Are you?”

      “Not me.” Ashley grinned. So did the rest.

      They repeated it over, one by one, until all were cheering. The whistle went and the team poured out onto the field, ready to give it their all. At the last moment the other coach pulled a smaller player and sent in his biggest offensive player. Madison was no match. Brendan whispered a prayer for her safety. Her heart was big, but her body was small, fragile.

      The first twenty seconds the other team commanded the game, moving closer and closer to the Springers’ net.

      “I shouldn’t have pushed them so hard,” he murmured to Buddy. “They’re too young and they’re against a much better team.”

      “Think so?” Buddy pointed. “Look at that.”

      Madison darted around her opponent and kicked the ball as hard as she could. No one was expecting it but her teammates immediately recognized the formation and moved into the pattern they’d practiced. Twenty seconds later the ball was in the net.

      And Madison was on the ground. Unmoving.

      Brendan raced out to the tiny form, his heart beating so fast he could hardly breathe. He squatted beside her, calling her name.

      “Madison? Madison, are you all right?”

      “Let me see.” Someone pushed against him, forcing him to move. Chloe Tanner knelt at her daughter’s side, felt her pulse then checked under her eyelids, that gorgeous sprawl of auburn hair cascading over one shoulder and onto the young girl. Able hands slipped over the small bones, checking for injuries. “Come on, baby. It’s Mom. You can’t lie here if you want to win the game, you know.” Not a tremor belied that steady, compelling voice.

      “Is she—” Just in time Brendan caught the shake of Chloe’s head and cut off his words. The team had gathered around and were staring down at the white-faced girl who still hadn’t moved.

      “Come on, honey. If you’re going to win, we have to finish the game.”

      Madison’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times before a funny smile flickered across her lips. “Hi, Mom.”

      “Hi, yourself. Are you all right? Any dizziness?”

      “No. I’m okay. It hurts a little. Here.” She pointed to her shoulder.

      “It should hurt.” Emily pointed at the offender from the opposite team. “She jabbed her with an elbow. Deliberately. I saw it. Then she laughed when Madison fell down.”

      Brendan glanced up at the referee, raised one eyebrow.

      “I didn’t see it. Can’t call what I didn’t see.”

      “Come on, sweetie. Sit up and take deep breaths. You’re okay. You just got the wind knocked out of you.” After a moment Chloe gently eased her daughter to her feet, eyes alert for any sign of difficulty. “Is that better?”

      “Yes.” Madison was standing now. “Is the game over?”

      “Five seconds left,” Buddy told them.

      “Then let’s finish it,” Madison said to the other players. She turned to take her place on the field but Brendan laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

      “The others can finish wiping them up, Madison. You’ve done your part. You sit down and rest.”

      “Yes, sir.” She high-fived the rest of the group then moved to the sidelines. Chloe turned toward the bleachers.

      “Aren’t you going to stay with her?” Brendan asked.

      She gave him a look that would have curdled milk.

      “Have her mother sit beside her, in front of everyone, embarrassing her? Are you kidding, Mr. Montgomery?” And with a toss of that lustrous hair she was gone, jogging across the field, her trim figure perfectly displayed in shabby blue jeans and a pale blue boiled wool jacket.

      “You sick, Bren?” Buddy nudged him with his elbow.

      “No. Why?”

      “You sure got a funny look on your face.”

      Brendan returned to his place on the sidelines, sent out another СКАЧАТЬ