Yuletide Homecoming by Carolyne Aarsen

Author:Carolyne Aarsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2007-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Sarah bounced the basketball a couple of times and looked around the empty gym. Only moments ago it had been ringing with the sound of parents and friends and classmates, shouting themselves hoarse with encouragement.

I made the right call. I made the right call. Sarah repeated the words to herself even as she considered that losing this game would come back to haunt them. But for now she had to concentrate on the next game and figure out what to do about Billy Carleton. This half-effort business wasn’t doing them any good—and it was giving more ammunition to Logan’s “get rid of the Westerveld coach” campaign.

The angry buzz of departing fans slowly had faded away, the crowd taking their disappointment with them. But her neck still felt warm from Logan’s blazing glare. Sarah wished she could tell them all she felt the failure more keenly than they did.

Even when she could no longer play the great game, she would always remember charging down the court, the thrill of the game singing through her blood—ducking, spinning, guarding, blocking and making those glorious shots, the sight of the ball arcing through the air and, in spite of the countless practices, the thrilling uncertainty of her aim.

And that moment of perfection when the ball would fall through the net without touching the rim.

She remembered Marilee standing up, waving her scarf and getting her friends going.

Sarah tested the memory of her sister, explored it like touching an old wound that had scabbed over.

It hurt to think of her, but below that a deeper, harder ache throbbed.

“I forgive you.” His words resounded so clearly in her mind, it was as if they had just been spoken.

Sarah bounced the ball once. Then again.

“I forgive you.”

She grabbed the ball, took two steps and launched it high into the air. It bounced off the backboard, her shot wild.

Playing with the wrong emotion, she could hear Mr. DeHaan’s voice remind her. He was always helping her channel her hidden frustration with her father and turn the burning in her belly into focused energy.

She grabbed the ball again, other memories blending, layering over the most recent, painful one.

Logan watching her, cheering her on. The sight of his dark head, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, just as he watched Billy play, always gave her heart a hitch.

Logan. Marilee. Her father.

Too intertwined. Thinking of one brought up memories of the others. She dribbled the ball again, focused on the net, ran to the side, pivoted, jumped and sent the ball out and up.

Retrieving the ball, she ran across the gym to the other side. Back and forth she went, scoring, running, purging her father’s skewed confession from her thoughts and her heart.

She didn’t need him. She had her purpose here. She could prove herself worthy here on this court, with these boys.

Forgiveness grants us freedom. The words from last Sunday’s worship service rang in her ears. Did her father feel free? She didn’t.

She ran to the other side of the court, her hand working the ball furiously, her feet darting, dodging imaginary opponents.

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