out the story behind the Angel necklace, you suggested Hope qualified and that she agreed. She referred to the Wizard of Oz argument you made, and she added that she believed Glenda the Good Witch was actually an angel.”
Lucca laughed. That didn’t surprise him one bit.
“Then Celeste got serious and told Hope that she’s acted courageously and that by wearing her Angel’s Rest medal, she will acknowledge her courage and honor her strength. She put the necklace around Hope’s neck and told her to let the medal be the talisman that reminds her to live boldly. She said if Hope listened to her heart and intuition as she traveled her life’s path, she would recognize the miracles that happen along the road every day. That’s when Hope started to cry.”
“Did she cry and run off or cry and hug people?”
“Actually, she did a little of both. She did the hugging, but then said she couldn’t stay any longer because she had somewhere she needed to be, and she left.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
“Huh.” Lucca thought it through and decided to think positively about her reaction. He shouldn’t expect to win the race in a hundred-yard dash. This was a marathon. He’d need stamina and patience to win, and win he would. He’d settle for nothing less than victory.
Gabi interrupted his musing. “Now, how about you, Lucca? How are you managing the return to college hoops?”
“It’s fine. Really good, in fact. Tony has a good group of talented kids.”
“And a talented substitute coach. Mom says when y’all made the semifinals, Tony grumbled that you were bound to take credit for his hard work.”
Lucca grinned. “Of course I will. So, Mom told me the surgery went well?”
“Yes. She said she’s going to have a hard time keeping him off it for another few days, but then, she’s in her glory playing nursemaid.”
“True.”
“Good luck in the game this afternoon, Lucca.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m really proud of you. You’ve given me hope that someday, I’ll find my way, too.”
“You will, Gabs. I have faith in that.”
“I love you, brother.”
“Love you, too, Gabriella.”
Lucca smiled as he made his way to the locker room where his team awaited. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve and, while he couldn’t quite believe it himself, he felt down right positive about the coming year.
Upon entering the locker room, he turned his attention to the matter at hand. “Gather round, gentlemen. We are going to talk for few minutes about the way of the hardwood warrior.”
The first half of the semifinal game proved to be a barn burner with their opponents taking a two-point lead into the locker room. Lucca consulted with Tony’s assistant coaches and made some adjustments to the game plan, then took them out onto the court for warm-ups early.
He stood at courtside, his arms folded, watching his twin brother’s players practice layups and jump shots and enjoying the moment. This was Madison Square Garden, after all, a mecca of the sporting world and the scene of one of his best games as a pro player. He loved the atmosphere, the energy. The sights and the smells. He loved the competition. He loved the game itself.
But he didn’t necessarily love it anymore in the Garden than he did in the Eternity Springs gymnasium. Nor did he yearn for the hustle and bustle of big-city living over the slow, laid-back pace of small-town life.
He yearned for Hope and a home with their child and a job helping high school students grow and learn the important life lessons that competing on the hardwood has to teach.
He yearned for Eternity Springs.
“All right, men,” he murmured. “Let’s win this thing so I can go home where I belong.”
Life lessons and basketball.
He watched Tony’s star power forward sink a shot from midcourt as a stir in the crowd gradually caught his notice. Then he heard the point guard say, “There’s another one. She’s older than the usual coeds, though. Hot, too. You might want to consider this one, Coach.”
“Excuse me?”
The player pointed up toward the huge scoreboard suspended from the ceiling above midcourt. First, Lucca read the ribbon graphic across the bottom that announced FAN CAM. Then he noticed that the camera had focused a close-up on a sign that read COACH ROMANO, WILL YOU MARRY ME?
He shrugged it off. It wasn’t the first marriage proposal sign he’d seen in the stands. It usually happened three or four times a season. College coeds were embarrassingly forward these days. Just as he was about to lower his gaze back to the court, the camera lens zoomed out and Lucca got his first look at the “coed” holding the sign.
He froze. Zoned out. Got swept away by a cyclone to the land not at the foot of the Yellow Brick Road, but smack-dab in the middle of his very own Miracle Road.
Here, caught on the Fan Cam, holding a sign asking him to marry her, stood his Hope.
Joy as fierce as any emotion he’d ever known pulsed through him. Pulling his gaze away from the scoreboard, he frantically looked around. He had to find her. The Garden was a huge arena, packed with people. How could he find her?
Cameras. Look for the cameras. There. Second row behind the home bench.
He took a step toward her, then another, and then Coach Lucca Romano started running. Like the graceful, powerful athlete of old, he hurdled the bench, then grabbed the railing and vaulted over it into the stands. Then, Hope, his wonderful, glorious Hope, was in his arms, and he was kissing her, deeply, thoroughly, and passionately.
Her hands lifted and her fingers laced behind his neck. She melted against him, and Lucca knew he’d found home. He lost track of everything but her. When he finally released her mouth and began pressing kisses across her cheeks, her eyes, her temples, he realized she was repeating those sweet words he’d longed to hear. “I love you, Lucca. I love you, Lucca. I love you, Lucca.”
He looked down into her eyes through his own tear-misted gaze. “I love you, too, Hope. Dear Lord above, I love you, too.”
Only then did he once again become aware of his surroundings as the sound of catcalls and applause filtered through his brain.
He looked up, saw that the arena cameras were still focused on him and Hope, and he gave the crowd what they wanted.
He flashed a thumbs-up and grinned. “I said yes.”
He thought they might have heard the answering roar of the crowd all the way out in Eternity Springs.
Daniel Garrett walked into his Boston office with springtime on his mind. News had broken that morning that the Red Sox had traded for a pitcher from Texas who would add depth and a spark to their rotation. The addition excited Daniel. New pitching was a shot in the arm to a ball club that always gave a fan hope. Hope was one of life’s great gifts. “Wish there was more of it in my world.”
His office phone rang, and with his mind still on the American League, he picked it up.
“Hello.”
“May I please speak with Mr. Daniel Garrett?” a hesitant voice said.
Twenty minutes later, he was in a cab on his way to the airport. He figured he should be in time to catch the twelve-fifteen flight to Dallas/Fort Worth. Barring any travel delays, he would make it to the gymnasium before the game ended. “Basketball,” he murmured. “Unreal.”
While he rode, Daniel worked the phone, calling in favors and collecting on promises. The fact that he was going to a large city in Texas worked in his favor, and by the time he walked into the terminal at Logan, he had the lab and technicians he needed on standby.
When he arrived at the gym at the wellness center of the suburban Fort Worth church, eight minutes
