Cole’s eyes found Savannah’s immediately. He nodded and stepped forward into the yard, the rest of the Jackrabbits trailing in single file behind him.

The crowd began to back up slowly, stunned by the ghostly silhouettes approaching across the dimly lit yard. The guests converged in a tight cluster on the side of the pool opposite the team.

One by one the Jackrabbits stepped onto the pristine pool deck, then fanned out in both directions.

When all were in position, Cole went forward and took Savannah’s place on the diving board. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with no fanfare, “allow me to present your Killington Jackrabbits.”

O’Dell Lamar’s mother was the first to break the extended silence. “My baby! He’s alive!” She rushed around the pool’s perimeter, shoving past everyone standing in her path, until she had taken O’Dell into her arms.

Other parents followed her lead. Within seconds the team was surrounded. Some people shook the players’ hands. Others embraced them. Many just touched them as if to ensure that they were real. Cole hissed with disgust when Marvin Bumbgardner’s girlfriend kissed him hard on the mouth.

Although Cole had prepared himself for this moment, he was still on edge, having no choice but to let the team out of his control, at least for a while.

From a few feet behind him he heard Mr. Hodges mumbling “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph” over and over.

To his right, he heard a shaken Coach Hickham say, “My God, Savannah. What the hell is going on here?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” she answered quietly. “It’s okay.”

There wasn’t much conviction in her tone.

Cole waited as long as he thought appropriate, but felt that he needed to start talking fast. The clock was ticking. Declining Savannah’s offer of the microphone, he called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to interrupt … but if I can have your attention, there are just a few things I’d like to say.” The commotion began to settle as heads once again turned his way. He swallowed to wet his nervous throat. “Thank you. Now, as you might have noticed, the guys are still a little shaken up … so I think that the best thing we can do is just give them a little space.” The comment was met with a number of puzzled looks.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen,” he continued. “I know you’re all eager to comfort your sons, but as their captain and quarterback, I think that what they really need right now is a little room to—”

“Where’s Jim Tom?” a female voice called out.

A frail woman in her late sixties broke from the crowd and approached the diving board. She looked familiar, but Cole couldn’t quite place her. Her brow was creased with worry. A streak of mascara ran down her left cheek.