For the Children. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      “He’s a good little player. And he’ll get better as the year progresses.”

      Proud of Blake, pleased that her son was succeeding, Valerie accompanied Kirk Chandler toward the playground several yards away.

      Blake’s success was a wonderful balm to her heart.

      “He’s going to be a starter,” Chandler was saying, telling her about Blake’s aggressive footwork on the court.

      Valerie frowned, confused. The man didn’t seem to realize that they had a problem here. He hadn’t asked about Brian at all, or even expressed any kind of regret for having to leave Blake’s twin off the team.

      “I’m curious,” she said slowly, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Why didn’t Blake’s brother make the team?”

      “He can’t keep up.”

      “What does that mean?” Detachment, Val. “I shoot ball with my boys, Mr. Chandler,” she said, softening her tone. “Brian’s a much better shot than Blake.”

      “Possibly.” Kirk Chandler stopped outside the gate leading to the playground, leaned his forearms on the top bars and looked over, silently assessing her. And then he spoke.

      “Basketball takes energy, Ms. Simms. Lots of it. Brian has none.”

      She pressed her lips together, as though blending her lipstick, although she’d chewed it off on the way from her car to the cafeteria.

      “I can’t put him on the team because I can’t play him in a game.”

      “He needs to be on that team, Mr. Chandler,” she said, trying to tone down her emotion. “I’ll make certain that his energy level is up to par.”

      Being on the team would take care of that. It would make Brian eat.

      Chandler glanced out at the still-empty playground. And shook his head.

      “I told Brian he could practice with the team. And as soon as I see his strength and speed improve, I’ll consider letting him on. I still have an open spot.”

      With a calm she didn’t feel, Valerie folded her arms across her chest. “I appreciate the offer, but being there with the boys, being constantly reminded that he isn’t good enough, won’t help Brian.”

      She shook at the thought. Low self-esteem was at the root of Brian’s problems. There was no way she could expose him to something that would make that worse.

      “You’d be surprised,” Chandler said, his conciliatory tone rankling her. “A lot of times it’s something like this that becomes a significant turning point in a boy’s life. If Brian wants to be on the team badly enough, he’ll get himself there.”

      “No, he won’t, because I can’t let him do this.” Her words were sharper than she wanted. “Brian’s borderline anorexic, Mr. Chandler. Putting him out there every day, in front of his peers—as someone who can’t make the grade—could kill him.”

      “The choice is yours,” he said, his gaze steady as it held hers. “But I think you’d be making a mistake. Brian wants to play basketball. If I thought there was any chance he could keep up, I’d have put him on the team for his heart alone. Instead of ‘killing him,’ as you say, this challenge could very well be what saves him.”

      “Do you have children, Mr. Chandler?”

      It was something she’d wondered more than once.

      “No.” His gaze had returned to the swings and slide and open field ahead of them.

      “I didn’t think so.”

      “I was a boy once, though.” With the soft words, an odd tone had entered his voice.

      “I’m guessing, however, that you didn’t have problems with low self-esteem.”

      “Every kid experiences some of that.”

      “The normal bouts, yes. Brian’s bout isn’t normal.”

      “The only way he’ll ever play on my team is if he comes out to practice and shows me he can keep up. Yesterday he couldn’t.”

      “If Brian doesn’t play, Blake won’t, either.”

      “What?” He turned, frowning, his eyes filled with such intensity she was shocked. There was a lot more going on inside this man than the world saw. “You’d actually hold Blake back, punish him, because his brother has problems?”

      “Of course not…”

      His eyes cleared. And that mattered to her.

      “Blake made that decision.”

      “And you’re going to let him?”

      “You obviously don’t understand twins, Mr. Chandler,” she said, suddenly weary. So often it felt like life was Valerie and her boys against the world. Trying to find their own place…

      “What’s to understand? They’re two kids with the same birthday.”

      If she had more time, she’d tell him how wrong that was. She’d tell him how, when the boys were little, one would always know when the other didn’t feel well. When Blake had the flu, Brian—at three years old—refused to leave the room and sat quietly beside his brother, eating only the soup that Blake ate, until his brother was better. She’d explain how the boys knew what the other was thinking, completing sentences and thoughts for each other as naturally as if they were their own.

      She’d tell him, but she had a feeling he still wouldn’t get it. Kirk Chandler was turning out to be an irritating man.

      “My boys do everything together,” she said now. “They’ve been in the same classes every year, they play the same sports, they have the same friends. I’ve got nothing to do with this. It’s a natural outgrowth of the bond they share. And,” she said with emphasis when he took a breath as though he was planning to interrupt with more of his unfounded opinions, “it’s been a gift, giving them the strength and security to weather whatever challenges come along. Including the death of their father.”

      “And that’s why Brian is borderline anorexic, because of all this strength and security.”

      It wasn’t a question.

      And Valerie didn’t have any more time. She had to get back to Mesa for her afternoon calendar.

      “The boys are coming to practice today,” she told him, “but don’t expect to see them tomorrow.”

      “The choice is yours,” he told her again. “But, for both their sakes, I wish you’d reconsider.”

      “And I wish you would,” she told him, then turned and walked away, leaving him standing there staring out over an empty playground.

      An unusual man, a poorly paid servant with a mind of his own and a will of iron.

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