Hawk: The Boys of Summer #4

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Hawk,” I say his name quietly into the stillness of the room.

  “I’d ask you to marry me if I didn’t think you’d run. So, I’m going to ask you the next impossible thing . . . will you considering giving up the life you have here to move to Boston to be with me? I know it’s a lot to ask, leaving your job and Chase switching schools, but I see a future with you, and I’ve tried to picture how it would work with me there and the both of you in Montana. I’d only see you in the off-season and summer vacations if you came to Boston. I love you and I love Chase and I understand if this is moving too fast for you. We can try the long-distance thing, but I can already tell you that you’ll hate it. When I go on road trips, it’ll be early morning or late-night calls. On nights we travel, it’ll be quick texts before I jump on a plane and if I lose a game, I won’t want to talk.”

  “And if you lose a game and come home to us, what’s the difference?”

  Hawk smiles. “Because you’ll be there to comfort me, and Chase will tell me everything I did wrong because that’s the kind of player he’s going to be — constructive and supportive. I want to raise your son, Bellamy. I want watch that boy grow into a man, guide him, and be someone he can look up to.”

  “You want all of this after only a few months of knowing us?”

  “Minutes, hours, days, weeks and months of knowing you. Time has stood still here for me since I met you, measured only by my time in rehab. Part of me wishes I was still hurt so I could stay longer, but the other part of me wants to get back to Boston and do my job because every game I’m away, I’m letting my team down. I know that may not make much sense to you, but to me, they’re my family.”

  He trails off and in our dimly lit room, I see him searching my eyes for an answer. It would be so easy to say yes, to tell him we’ll pack up and move tomorrow, but it’s not that easy.

  “You’re in love with me?”

  He nods. “From the first day.”

  “I’m in love with you as well,” I say, and then smile. “Not exactly on the first day, but shortly thereafter.”

  Hawk grins. “I’ll take it.” He leans in to kiss me, but I place my hand on his chest to stop him. “What is it?”

  “I have to talk to Chase and my mom. She’s one of the reasons we moved back, and I want to speak with her before I decide. I think I know what Chase wants, but I’d like his input. His opinion is important to me and while I think he’s going to say yes, I think he should wait until his baseball season is over.”

  “I agree,” he says.

  “And if we do this, where will we live? I’m assuming we’d live together?”

  “Of course,” he says, smiling. “Right now, I have a two-bedroom apartment. Not conducive to a ten-year-old though. I figure we can pick a neighborhood and buy a house together, something that fits a family.”

  A family. “Hawk,” I draw out his name and sigh. “Do you want children? I only ask because . . . well I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

  His hand is back to caressing my cheek. “If we were to have a baby, I’d be ecstatic, but I have Chase and he’s more than I could ever ask for, Bellamy.”

  I want to tell him he has Matty too because while he may be in denial, I’m not. The more time we spend with her, the more I’m convinced he’s her father.

  I pull Hawk toward me, urging him lay on top of me. I love the way his weight settles over me, as if he’s trying to keep me safe. My fingers brush against his hair; it’s become shaggy over the past few months and I know he’ll cut it before going back to Boston. He’s made many comments about the long-haired ball players and how it’s a distraction.

  “I love you,” I tell him before reaching up to press my lips to his. Earlier this evening, and days leading up to now, I fretted about what life was going to be like with him gone, and now I know . . .

  He wants me.

  He wants Chase.

  And he wants us in Boston.

  Twenty-Nine

  Hawk

  It’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off me now that I’ve told Bellamy how I feel. Last night, the time was finally right. Earlier, during dinner, I sensed there was something wrong, even though she assured me she was fine. She was quiet and sort of disengaged from what was happening around us. At first, I thought she wasn’t connecting with the other wives, but I saw the way she lit up when they spoke to her . . . until Pawtucket was mentioned. In that moment, her demeanor shifted, and I realized what was going on. In the end, I’m happy it all happened because I don’t know if I would’ve said something last night otherwise. Effectively, all I’ve been accomplishing by avoiding the subject is putting off the inevitable, but time is drawing near. I’ll be returning to Boston shortly.

  Today, I’m at the field early and I can’t figure out why. Something told me I needed to be here, maybe to oversee the grounds crew. The rec department does a good job making sure the lines are down, and David Farmer is always early to check the lightbulbs in the scoreboards and to post the day’s schedule. The concession stand is already cooking hotdogs and even though I’ve already eaten, my stomach growls. After parking, I walk to the field where our game is today and sit down in the dugout to look out over the field. The grass is short, there’s fresh chalk running down the first and third baselines, and the scoreboards are lit up. So why am I here when I could be home with Bellamy and Chase, getting ready for the day? There’s no reason. I’m about to leave when I catch something out of my peripheral. I turn and find Matty standing at the entrance of the dugout.

  “Hey, Matty. You’re here early.”

  She nods and walks toward me, taking the seat next to me on the metal bench. She’s dressed in her uniform and has her mitt on her hand. “I was hoping to find you here.”

  “Sometimes it feels like I live here.”

  “Not such a bad place to live,” she says. “Especially if you’re here, because you don’t yell.”

  And there it is, the opening I’ve been waiting for. The problem is, I’m not sure if I should take it or call Bellamy and ask her to come talk to Matty about her home life.

  “My dad yells a lot,” she says, as if she’s reading my mind.

  I hold my hand up, silently asking her to stop. “I’ll happily sit here and listen but want to offer Bellamy as an option as well, being that she’s a mom and all. I can call her.”

  Matty shakes her head. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay, I’m all ears.”

  “I remember the day you first came to Richfield. My dad came home from work yelling. He started throwing things around the house. He didn’t think I was home, but I was. I cracked my bedroom door and listened to everything he said. He kept saying to my mom ‘your lover is back’ and I didn’t understand what he meant for the longest time.” She pauses and grips the end of the bench and her legs swing back and forth. I don’t want to pretend I know what she’s going through, but at her age, her biggest worry should be whether her bike has a flat tire or not.

  “The day I met you, I remember I went right up to you and told you that I watch you on TV. That night, my dad took the television out of my room and canceled our cable. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to punish me for watching the sport he desperately wants me to play.”

  “Do you not want to play baseball?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “I love it, I do. But I’d also like to do other things like basketball and maybe take a dance class. I’m not allowed to, though, it’s about baseball in my house all the time.”

  “I get that. Kids should try a lot of different things while growing up.”

  She nods and continues to swing her legs. “Do you know that my dad told me to be mean to Chase, Nolan, and the other kids he didn’t take on the team? Said a message had to be sent. Whatever that means.”

  What? Now I’m gripping the bench and can feel the metal digging into my fingers. What kind of man . . . what kind of father says that about other children?

  I c
lear my throat and struggle to maintain composure. “Why would your dad say something like that?”

  She shrugs. Of course she doesn’t know, and she shouldn’t. “I didn’t listen to him unless he was around, but the other kids on the team did and were mean to them at school.”

  “Thank you for being nice to the boys.”

  “But I wasn’t, not if my dad was there. I’d make faces and roll my eyes at them. I knew it hurt them.”

  “But you’re nice to them now and they seem to like you.”

  Matty nods and wipes at her face. I lean forward a bit and see that she’s crying. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Do I console her? Put my arm around her? Or stay where I am? I chose to stay because I’m her coach but I don’t want anything to be misconstrued. Damn, I wish I had texted Bellamy to come down.

  “Matty, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do here.”

  “I’m not done talking,” she says, putting me in my place. “I have a lot of thoughts going on and sometimes can’t keep them straight.”

  “Okay, I’ll sit and listen. You tell me when you’re done.”

  She says okay and starts talking again. “My dad kept saying ‘your lover this and your lover that’ and I tried to ask my mom what my dad meant but all she does is tell me to mind my own business . . . and I’m not good at minding my own business. One day, I decided to pretend I was sick so I could stay home and after my parents left for work, I went into the basement and found their yearbooks. Everyone looked so funny back then. But in the box, I found this.”

  She hands me a piece of yellowed paper. I unfold it carefully, noticing that it’s been folded and refolded many times by the holes in the creases. It says, Dear Hawk, followed by the lyrics to Heart’s All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You. I don’t need to read the rest of the page to know what Annie is saying here. I fold the paper back the way it was. I don’t want to read into this, but my mind is spinning. If this girl isn’t my daughter, life is playing a cruel trick on me.

  “Did you ask your mom about this?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions in check.

  “No, I looked the video up online though.”

  “You should talk to your mom, Matty.”

  “Did you know about me?” Her voice breaks and now I’m fighting my own emotions.

  I clear my throat and tap my feet nervously. “If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “I think you’re my dad,” she says, breaking my heart.

  I nod. “I think I may be too, but we need to sit down with your mom. Only she knows the answer.”

  Matty and I agree that we’ll speak to Annie after the game. Matty doesn’t want to wait and I don’t either, especially if things aren’t going that well at home. I can’t imagine how Brett will react once he finds out I know. Right now, my life feels like a bad soap opera and I don’t like it. I need structure, consistency. My life needs to be in order, or I feel out of sorts, and right now it’s a huge cluster.

  By the time Bellamy arrives, she knows everything. I told Matty I had to use the restroom, but I went and called Bellamy instead, filling her in. Her eyes are wide when she approaches me. Without a word, she pulls me into her arms and assures me that everything’s going to be okay. But will it? How can I go back to Boston and not worry about Matty’s home life? Worry about Bellamy and Chase? What if Brett decides to do something to one or all three of them? If life in Richfield is weighing heavily on my mind, I won’t be focused on the game, and that’ll hurt my return.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” she says reassuringly but I’m not sure she even believes her own words. “Right now, you have a game to coach and a team of kids waiting for your words of wisdom.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “Oh, and a set of bleachers full of your teammates . . . so you might want to win this one.” She winks and gives me a kiss before turning toward the stands. My eyes follow her until she’s with my friends. It’s fun to see them having a good time being spectators at a baseball game, rather than playing in one. I’m sure the wives are enjoying it as well.

  In the dugout, the kids are sitting on the bench, waiting for me to give them a pep talk. I’m about to open my mouth when my eyes land on Matty’s. She smiles brightly, which tells me she’s ready. I crouch down and motion for the kids to gather around me.

  “Don’t worry about who is in the stands today, okay? They’re just normal people, here to watch you play this game. If you utilize the skills we’ve been working on, you’ll succeed. Matty and Alexis will take care of the plate, while the rest of you watch the ball go into your mitt, know how many outs there are and where the play is. Most importantly, talk. Cheer on your pitcher, catcher and other players. Positive reinforcements and happy thoughts. Everyone in.” A dozen plus hands are thrust at me and piled on top of one another. “Family, on three. One, two, FAMILY,” is yelled loudly. By the time I stand, the kids are out on the field.

  “You never make it to three,” Owen points out.

  “So, their math skills aren’t the best,” I say, laughing.

  Because we’re on defense first, I’m stuck behind the fence of the dugout, trying to encourage Matty. I thought about pulling her, but she assured me she was okay. After she throws her last warm-up pitch, I jog out to the mound and place my hand on her shoulder. “You good?”

  She nods. “I can do this.”

  “Okay, you say the word when it becomes too much. No one can ever fault you for not finishing a game. I’ve been there many times.”

  The ump yells, “Play ball!” and that’s my cue to get off the field. I give Matty a fist bump and jog back to the dugout, but not before I spot Brett standing at the fence. I wish I could say he was on our side, but he’s standing with our opponent, showing Matty exactly where his allegiances lie. I look around for Annie and don’t see her which pisses me off even more. She should be here no matter what.

  The first boy comes up to bat and points toward the outfield. I want to chuckle, but I used to be that cocky. Now, I can’t bat for the life of me.

  “Let’s go Matty!” I clap my hands and wait for her to deliver the first pitch.

  “Strike,” the ump calls.

  I give Alexis the next sign and she sends it to Matty.

  Strike two.

  Alexis stands, throws the ball back to Matty and looks at me for the next sign. I give it to her and watch as she squats down, gives the sign to her pitcher and sets up.

  Before I go back to my spot, I find Annie, staring at me. She’s at the end of our dugout, far away from everyone. I only look at her for a second before turning my attention back to the game. After Matty strikes out the side and I’ve praised her, I take a few steps toward Annie.

  “We need to talk after the game, Annie.”

  “Don’t have anything to say.”

  I chuckle. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but it felt damn good coming out of my mouth and I’m rather proud of myself. Back in the dugout, Javier is calling out the line-up and Owen is heading toward first.

  “Matty and Alexis started us off with a bang, let’s finish it!” I say to the team. “Who’s up first?”

  “Me, Coach,” Nolan hollers. My nephew gives me a fist bump as he heads to the plate and I take my spot on third. I give Nolan the sign to hit away. I want to see what he can do after spending more time at practice. He steps in, grinds his back foot into the dirt and waits for his pitch. It comes on pitch five and Nolan sends it deep into right field. By the time the right fielder has the ball, Nolan is rounding second. I wave my left arm in windmill fashion and send him home. It’s his teammates who tell him to slide.

  “Safe!” the ump yells as he fans his arms out.

  Nolan jumps up, claps his hands and heads to the dugout where his team is waiting for him. When he glances at me, I clap my hands, letting him know that I’m happy for him.

  By
the middle of the sixth inning, we’re up by five runs and when the last out is called, the kids all run toward each other. Parents are cheering, my teammates are shouting their praise, but my attention is focused solely on Matty. Her head is spinning around, eyes are wild. She’s looking for someone and when she spots that someone . . . me . . . she grins from ear-to-ear. I don’t know if this is a daughter smiling at her father, a player smiling at her coach, or pitcher smiling at another pitcher. Either way, it feels damn good to be on the receiving end of that grin.

  Thirty

  Bellamy

  We’re on a high from the win yesterday. It wasn’t our first win, but this one felt different. Maybe it’s because Hawk’s teammates were in the stands or maybe it’s because Hawk and I finally told each other how we feel. Those are my reasons. For Hawk, I think it’s something else, something deeper. His time is coming to an end with the mini team and he’s worried about Owen taking over. It’s not that Owen can’t do it, but Hawk’s afraid of how Brett is going to react or what he might do to the team. There’s still a divide . . . us versus them. Adults, who grew up together, and were friends through high school are no longer on speaking terms. Of course, it’s not uncommon for people to grow apart, but living in a small town with same aged children, you’d think we’d be close or at least friendly. I’m still the outcast, even more so because Chase is now playing. According to the rumors, and believe me there’s a string of them, the only reason Chase has a team is because I’m “banging” — their word, not mine — the coach or it’s because I went to David Farmer and complained. The only truth to any of this is the part where I went to Farmer, but I didn’t complain, I asked how to help my son. As I sit at the table and think about the catty women and their rumors, I wonder what they would think if they found out Hawk and I actually didn’t sleep together until after the Mini Renegades formed. The thought makes me laugh. It also makes me ache inside that people are like this.