First Position Read Online Free PDF Page A

project an image of a happy, successful woman who’d left the past behind.  “Meet me at 11 by the bridge.  I should be done by then.” 
    “Great.  I’ll see you then.”  Clive looked over at Mason and pumped his fist. 
    “OK.”  Emory said awkwardly.
    “Good night, Em.”
    “Good night.”  Emory collapsed down on her bed, delirious with nerves and confusion to the point she felt sick to her stomach.  She stuffed her face in her pillow.
    Mason stood up from the bar, beaming with pride, and slapped a high-five to Clive.
     
                                                                          *              *              *
     
    Emory tried to sleep but couldn’t stop her mind from racing.   What the hell is going on ?    She wondered what Mason was up to -- why he would call, why he wanted to see her, what he expected in Freedom Park tomorrow, whether he was still married, whether he had feelings for her.  All of this made sleep impossible.  She considered waking Wesley to discuss her latest drama but decided not to bother him.  He had taught for hours and deserved to sleep.
    She had no answers to her many questions, other than that she still loved him, and was worried about spending time with him -- that it could be a painful reminder of a love that was lost -- and lost to Alexis -- and she hadn’t come close to finding again, certainly not with Eric.  But she wondered whether this was a sign -- perhaps from God -- that she needed to confront her past and divulge her secrets.  She tried to push that thought aside, telling herself that bumping into him in a bar was nothing more than a chance encounter.  But then she thought of the Gospel of Matthew.   There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known .
    The uncertainty made her stomach churn, but she couldn’t control her heart fluttering with excitement, too.  She’d missed Mason -- his smile, confidence, and the way he made her feel.  She missed sharing her life with him.  She wondered whether spending time with him after so many years would feel the same as before.  She was exhausted by her thoughts, but was afraid to sleep.  She didn’t want her memories -- and her own secrets --  to haunt her dreams, as they sometimes did. 
    She remembered their last days.   I should have seen it coming.   There were hints in their senior year, but she ignored them, choosing to believe everything was fine.  It was easier that way.  The NFL draft loomed in April, and Mason was under incredible pressure, with seemingly endless obligations ahead.  He had to work on his flexibility and arm strength, shave precious tenths off his 40 yard dash time, deal with media questions and scrutiny, travel to the combine with countless other prospects, and hold a private work-out on campus for prospective teams.
    His teammates encouraged him as he prepared for the process but ribbed him about Emory.  They thought Mason should play the field -- a different girl for each week of the NFL regular season.  They had no idea he’d only ever had sex with Emory.  She would hear some of the comments from his teammates, but never felt threatened, believing Mason was loyal and loved her, and that he wanted, in the near future, nothing more than a stable marriage.  She knew Mason never considered divorce an option, having suffered through his own parents’ divorce at a young age.  Their plan was to marry just once.
    In the midst of his preparation, and with the draft only a few months away, Emory made a trip to Texas to visit his family over New Year’s.  She was battling bronchitis, hopped up on antibiotics, but went along to keep family relations running smoothly.  Most of all, she didn’t want to disappoint his mother, Kathleen, a Texas divorcee, beautiful and imposing, with big blonde hair and a Southern drawl, who’d made it on