His day would belong to Angelina. He thanked God for the safety of his mother and brothers, and vowed to one day extricate them from the camp and bring them to America.
For the moment, though, he just wanted to be alone. He tried not to think about her final hours, but chose instead to dwell on childhood memories of his little sister picking fruit in their rear yard, eating too many berries and getting sick, and tagging along behind her big brother to the basketball courts.
He should have been there for her.
* * *
·?·?·
Ecko and Lonnie Britt were shown to a corner table in an elegant downtown restaurant. Once seated, Ecko picked up his sparkling white and perfectly ironed cloth napkin and said, “Wow. You did say you’re treating, right?”
“I got it. No problem. They’re afraid I might leave so they jacked up my expense account.”
“And salary?”
“They want to talk but I’m not so sure.”
“Is that why we’re having lunch in a swanky place? The privacy?”
“Yes. We probably won’t see anyone from Central in here for lunch.”
A hostess handed them menus and asked about drinks. They were fine with water.
“All right, let’s hear it,” Ecko said.
“You know it, Ecko. I’m forty-one and I’ve been here for four years. Won almost seventy percent of my games and I don’t want to get stuck here. I want to move up. The question is: Who’ll be in the market come next April?”
“Who’s on the hot seat?”
“Yep. Who’s on the hot seat? I figure Dulaney at Iowa is toast. Lost twenty games the last two years.”
“I can’t believe they kept him.” Ecko was scanning the menu and shaking his head. “Thirty bucks for smoked salmon?”
“It’s worth it. I’m buying, okay?”
“Forgive me, Lonnie. I’ll always be an immigrant.”
“Yes, and you instinctively order the cheapest thing on the menu. Relax. This is on Central.”
“Dulaney’s buy-out was too big so they kept him for one more year. Should be a disaster. They’ll fire the AD too. Talbott at Miami is retiring.”
Lonnie smiled at the news and asked, “Has he announced it?”
“Not yet.”
“Where do you get your gossip?”
A waiter approached and described the specials. Both ordered tomato salads and grilled trout. As soon as he left, they jumped back into the gossip mill that all coaches found irresistible. Lonnie was ready for a move up and Ecko believed his friend could handle a bigger program, though perhaps not in a Power Five conference. The guy at Richmond was on the ropes, but Lonnie had something bigger in mind. Ecko knew the AD at Creighton and knew he wasn’t happy with their program. The coach at Texas wanted a new contract but the school was balking. And so it went, around the country in half an hour as they ate their salads and schemed of ways to find bigger jobs.
When their entrees arrived, Ecko changed the subject with “What are you going to do with Samuel?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly want the kid, as you might remember.”
“Thank you, again, Coach. Together we probably saved his life.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, if I had not chosen the kid back in April, he would have been at home with his family when their village was raided. Knowing him the way we do, he would have tried to save everyone. He’d probably be dead now.”
Lonnie shook his head and mumbled, “What is wrong with those people?”
“We, those people, are cursed, and we’re not happy unless there are at least two civil wars raging. You gave the kid a scholarship, a dorm room, a team, an education, a chance to play here, his dream. If he had gone home with the team, who knows what would have happened. His village was burned to the ground.”
“What a nightmare. I can’t imagine.”
“I’ll hang around and see him tonight. Why don’t you give him a week off, let him mourn in private.”
“Sure. Whatever. I’ll probably redshirt him anyway, though that’s the last thing I need.”
“So, he’s not lighting it up in practice?”
“Let’s just say his game has not changed in the past two months. He’s a great kid. He fits in. Always a big smile. Plays hard and all that. Can jump out of the gym. There’s just no place to put him right now.”
“Be patient with him. He might surprise you.”
“That’s what you keep saying. And I admit there are moments when he springs up, lifts the ball high, lets it go when he’s forty-five inches off the court, all smooth and fluid and he just sort of hangs there like Michael Jordan, but the damned ball never goes in.”