arah made it to the soccer game the following morning a few minutes before the game started. Dressed in jeans and boots with a thick turtleneck sweater and sunglasses, she stood out among the harried-looking parents. How she could look both casual and elegant at the same time was beyond Miles.  Jonah, who was kicking the ball with a group of friends, spotted her across the field and ran toward her to give her a hug. He took her hand and dragged her toward Miles.

“Look who I found, Dad,” he said a minute later. “Miss Andrews is here.”

“I see that,” Miles answered, running his hand through Jonah’s hair.

“She looked lost,” Jonah offered. “So I went to get her.”

“What would I do without you, champ?” He gazed at Sarah.

“You’re beautiful and charming, and I can’t stop thinking about last night.” No, he didn’t say that. Not exactly, anyway. What Sarah heard was, “Hey—how are you?”

“Good,” she answered. “It’s a little early to start my weekend mornings, though.

It sorta felt like I was heading off to work.”

Over her shoulder, Miles saw the team beginning to cluster together, and he used it as an excuse to escape her gaze. “Jonah, I think your coach just got here. .

. .”

Jonah’s head swiveled around and he started struggling with his sweatshirt before Miles helped him take it off. When his head was free, Miles tucked the sweatshirt under his arm.

“Where’s my ball?”

“Weren’t you just kicking it around a little while ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Then where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Miles dropped to one knee and began tucking Jonah’s shirt in. “We’ll find it later. I don’t think you need it now, anyway.”

“But the coach said we had to bring it for the warm-up.”

“Just borrow someone else’s.”

“Then what will they use?” There was a tinge of worry in his tone.

“You’ll be fine. Go on. The coach is waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“But—”

“Go on. They’re waiting for you.”

A moment later, after debating whether or not his father was right, Jonah finally scrambled toward his team. Sarah watched it all with a bemused smile, enjoying their interaction.

Miles motioned to the bag. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I brought a thermos.”

“No, that’s okay. I had some tea before I got here.”

“Herbal?”

“Earl Grey, actually.”

“With toast and jelly?”

“No, with my cereal. Why?”

Miles nodded. “Just curious.”

A whistle blew and the teams began to gather on the infield, setting up for the game.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it’s not about my breakfast,” she countered.

“It might sound strange.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Miles cleared his throat. “Well, I was just wondering whether you wrap your head in a towel after you take a shower.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“You know, after you shower. Do you wrap your head or do you style it right away?”

She looked at him closely. “You’re funny.”

“That’s what they say.”

“Who says?”

“Them.”

“Oh.”

The whistle blew again, and the game started.

“So . . . do you?” he persisted.

“Yes,” she said finally with a mystified laugh. “I wrap my head in a towel.”

He nodded, satisfied. “I thought so.”

“Did you ever think about cutting back on the caffeine?”

Miles shook his head. “Never.”

“You should.”

He took another drink to hide his pleasure. “I’ve heard that.”

• • •

Forty minutes later the game was over, and despite Jonah’s best efforts, his team lost, not that he seemed all that upset about it. After slapping hands with the other players, Jonah ran toward his father, his friend Mark right behind him.

“You two played well out there,” Miles assured both boys.  There was the murmur of distracted thanks from both of them before Jonah tugged on his dad’s sweater.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Mark asked if I could spend the night.”

Miles looked at Mark for confirmation. “He did?”

Mark nodded. “It’s okay with my mom, but you can talk to her if you want. She’s right over there. Zach is coming, too.”

“C’mon, Dad. Please? I’ll do my chores as soon as I get home,” Jonah added.

“I’ll even do extra.”

Miles hesitated. It was fine . . . but at the same time, it wasn’t. He liked having Jonah around. The house was lonely without him. “All right, if you really want to go—” Jonah smiled excitedly, not waiting for him to finish. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ryan,” Mark said. “C’mon, Jonah. Let’s go tell my mom it’s okay.” They jogged off, pushing each other and veering through the crowd, laughing the whole way. Miles turned to Sarah, who was watching them go.  “He looks pretty broken up about the fact he won’t see me tonight.”

“Absolutely crushed,” Sarah agreed with a nod.

“We were supposed to rent a movie together, you know.”

Sarah shrugged. “It must be terrible to be forgotten so easily.”

Miles laughed. He was smitten with her, no doubt about it. Really smitten.

“Well, since I’m alone and all . . .”

“Yes?”

“Well . . . I mean . . .”

Her eyebrows lifted and she looked at him slyly. “You want to ask me about the fan again?”

He grinned. She’d never let him live that down. “If you’re not doing anything,” he said with an air of feigned confidence.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Not a game of pool, that’s for sure.”

Sarah laughed. “How about if I make you dinner at my place?”

“Tea and cereal?” he prompted.

She nodded. “Absolutely. And I promise to wear the towel on my head.”

Miles laughed again. He didn’t deserve this. He really didn’t.

• • •

“Hey, Dad?”

Miles pushed his baseball hat a little higher on his head and looked up. They were in the yard, raking the year’s first fallen leaves.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about not renting a movie with you tonight. I forgot until just a little while ago. Are you mad at me?”

Miles smiled. “No. I’m not mad at all.”

“Are you going to rent one anyway?”

Miles shook his head. “Probably not.”

“Then, what are you going to do?”

He set the rake aside, took off his hat, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Actually, I think I’ll probably see Miss Andrews tonight.” “Again?”

Miles wondered how much he should say right now. “We had a nice time last night.”

“What did you do?”

“We had dinner. Talked. Went for a walk.”

“That’s all?”

“Pretty much.”

“That sounds boring.”

“I guess you had to be there.”

Jonah thought about that for a moment. “Is this a date again?”

“Kind of.”

“Oh.” He nodded and then looked away. “I guess that means you like her, right?” Miles approached Jonah, lowering himself until they were eye level. “She and I are just friends right now, that’s all.”

Jonah seemed to consider it for a long moment. Miles took him in his arms and hugged him, squeezing him. “I love you, Jonah,” he said.  “I love you too, Dad.”

“You’re a good kid.”

“I know.”

Miles laughed and stood, reaching for his rake again.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Can we go to McDonald’s?”

“Sure. We haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Can I have a Happy Meal?”

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for that?”

“I’m only seven, Dad.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said as if he’d forgotten. “C’mon, let’s go inside and wash up.”

They started toward the house, and Miles put his arm around Jonah. After a few steps, Jonah looked up.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

Jonah walked in silence for a few steps. “It’s okay if you like Miss Andrews.”

Miles looked down in surprise. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “Because I think she likes you.”

• • •

That feeling only grew stronger the more Miles and Sarah saw of each other.  Throughout October they went on half a dozen dates, in addition to the times he saw her after school.

They talked for hours, he took her hand whenever they walked, and though their relationship hadn’t become physical yet, there was nonetheless a sensual undercurrent to their conversations that neither could deny.  A few days before Halloween, after the final soccer game of the season, Miles asked Sarah if she would like to join him on the ghost walk that night. It was Mark’s birthday, and Jonah was staying over for the night.  “What’s that?” she asked.

“You get to tour some of the historic homes and listen to ghost stories.”

“This is what people do in small towns?”

“We could either do that or go sit on my porch, chew some tobacco, and play banjos.”

She laughed. “I think I’ll take the first option.”

“I thought you might. Pick you up at seven?”

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath. Dinner at my place afterwards?” “Sounds great. But you know that if you keep making me dinners, I’m going to get spoiled.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a wink. “A little spoiling never hurt anyone.”