The Lottery

by D. K. Wall

  The next pitch dropped and curved, forcing Luke to reach for it. He sent the ball high in the air, over the heads of the fans, deep into foul territory to Nathan’s right. It bounced and rolled to the tree line.

  A man stepped from under the shade of the trees lining the edge of the field, scooped up the ball, and tossed it back. “Way to go, Luke!” he shouted.

  The voice chilled Nathan as he watched Hank walk back under the trees to a split-rail fence running along the edge of the field. Parallel to the third-base line, it separated the grass from the forest beyond. He leaned against the top rail and watched the game from behind his dark sunglasses. He still wore the brace protecting his broken nose.

  Conflicting emotions coursed through Nathan as he stared at his former friend. Anger, disgust, and betrayal made him want to confront Hank, but the consequences of doing so were too steep. Any chance he had of a healthy relationship with Jacob depended on his actions. He hunkered down in the woods, determined to remain camouflaged, and seethed.

  Another crack of the bat drew his attention back to the field. The ball arced high and dropped just behind the baseline between first and second, an easy pop fly for the second baseman to field. With a thwack of ball in glove, the inning was over.

  As the teams switched sides, Nathan glanced toward his nemesis and continued to struggle with the rage inside himself. That man had once been a friend, someone he trusted. But he was taking his wife, his son, and his money. He was stealing every chance of happiness Nathan had. He squeezed his fists together and struggled to remain calm.

  Salvation came in the form of Jacob trotting out to left field with his old glove in hand. The coach had rotated him through several positions, including pitching and shortstop, but today had him playing outfield. The variety was good for him at this age, learning the various positions. Unfortunately, that also put him only feet from where Nathan was hiding in the forest, much closer than the restraining order allowed.

  Should I leave? Just slink away before anyone sees me? Better to stay put and not draw attention by moving from my cover. No one knows I’m here. Besides, all I’m doing is watching a game.

  The defense tossed the baseball around while waiting for the batter to get ready. Jacob fielded the ball cleanly and fired it to the center fielder. His too-long hair stuck out from under the cap. His blue eyes glistened in the sun. His white teeth flashed as he smiled and joked with his teammates.

  I can’t walk away when he is so close.

  The umpire called for the inning to start. Nathan smiled as he realized the ump was Carlos Estrella, the high school pitching star that had thrown to his son. The boy was volunteering to umpire a kid’s game on a weekend day rather than goofing off like so many other teenagers—a good role model for Jacob to admire.

  The first pitch sailed through the air and smacked into the catcher’s glove. Strike one. A smattering of applause and shouts of encouragement came from the fans. Jacob popped his glove with his fist and rocked on his feet, chattering to his teammates in an endless string of encouragement.

  The next pitch sailed past the batter. The umpire called ball. The crowd groaned. Jacob stretched and settled back into position, ready for action.

  The next pitch slammed into the catcher’s glove with a pop. The umpire’s voice carried across the field: “Striiike.” The crowd applauded. Jacob shifted in the field, drifting closer behind the third baseman as he called out to the others on the field—a natural leader, confident in his skills.

  Pitch. A crack of the bat. The ball streaked through the air just over the third baseman’s stretched glove. A solid, hard, fast line drive to Jacob’s right but within fair territory. If it got past him, the runner had an easy double.

  Jacob sprinted and leapt into the air, stretching his body and reaching out with his left hand. He neatly wrapped the glove around the racing ball and tucked it against his body as he curled and rolled on the ground. He bounced to his feet and held the glove high, the ball visible as the crowd roared its approval.

  Despite her injuries, Donna stood in front of her chair and whooped again in celebration. Colette was laughing with her while Matt cupped his hands and yelled encouragement. Nathan bit his tongue to keep from joining the celebration and revealing his presence.

  As the cheers subsided and the crowd settled back to their seats, Hank’s voice floated across the field. “Way to go, Jake.”

  Jacob looked a few yards to Nathan’s right and smiled. “Thanks, Hank!”

  21

  Forgetting his need to remain hidden, Nathan stood and stared at Hank, who clapped his hands and cheered. The anger he had kept in check coursed through his body. The familiarity that his son and his enemy showed each other bothered him more than anything else.

  But he needed to be rational. Of course they knew each other. With all the sleepovers and after-school time and doing homework and playing sports, Jacob would know anyone at Luke’s house. While Nathan hadn’t realized how often Hank was coming to town, he wasn’t surprised that he was there sometimes when the boys were.

  Yet the little exchange, the friendliness of it, grated on him.

  As he fought to get his emotions under control, Nathan failed to react as Hank turned around to head back to his place along the fence. Hank’s eyes narrowed as he spied him standing among the trees.

  They stood glaring at each other for a minute before Hank jerked his head toward the nature trail, beckoning Nathan to join him. They could talk out of sight of the game and of Donna if she happened to look across the field. Still, Nathan was wary of any confrontation as he edged his way cautiously through the woods. He emerged onto the nature trail and approached Hank but stopped several feet away, out of reach.

  Hank glared at him and asked through clenched teeth, “What are you doing here, Nate?”

  “I just wanted to see Jacob play baseball.”

  “You can’t be here. We have a restraining order.”

  “I can’t be within a hundred feet. Donna’s on the other side of the field, so I came over here to be far enough away.”

  Hank glanced out to Jacob’s back. “Jake’s closer than a hundred feet.”

  “I didn’t know that when I sat down. I had no idea he would be playing left field. When I saw, I started to leave, but I knew he couldn’t see me. I didn’t try to talk to him at all.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Nate. You’re too close. I could have you so busted for this.”

  Nathan waved his arm toward Jacob and opened his mouth to protest but then cocked his head. He watched Donna sitting on the far side of the field, laughing with Matt and Colette. “Wait a minute. Why are you over here? Shouldn’t you and Donna be celebrating your big lottery win?”

  Hank looked startled. “Where did you hear about that?”

  “Sammy’s. Chet Everswood said Matt told him.”

  Hank sighed and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told Matty but didn’t think he would go blabbing it around town.”

  “Did you tell him you stole my ticket?”

  Hank’s eyes widened, and he busted out laughing. “Is that going to be your game? First thing from every one of you is how you want your hands on my winnings. Matty just assumes Luke’s college is paid for and he didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Donna balked at a prenup and got all pissy with me. And now you come along with a crazy story about a stolen ticket. Bunch of Millerton leeches.”

  “It’s my ticket, and you know it.”

  Hank threw his arms up in the air. “Good luck with that one. Hire a lawyer and sue me. The guy will tell you lottery tickets belong to whoever has them. The ticket is in my hands, so you can’t prove a thing. Just get over it.”

  Nathan shook with rage. “Get over it? You steal my wife, kick me out of my house, try to move my son to Atlanta, and now you steal my lottery ticket—and I’m just supposed to get over it?”

  A few people along the fence glanced over their shoulders at the two men arguing.

  Hank rolled his e
yes and turned to walk away. “Nate, I’m done. You’re within a hundred feet of Jake, so you’re breaking the restraining order. Go away, or I’ll call the cops right now.”

  Nathan glared at his back as he marched toward the fence and shouted, “My name is Nathan, not Nate! And my son’s name is Jacob, not Jake!”

  Hank stopped and turned around slowly, a perplexed look on his face. He paused for a moment before a smile crept across his face. He returned to Nathan and leaned in close. “Okay, Nathan. I’ll call him Jacob. But I got big news for you. He ain’t your kid.”

  Startled, Nathan stepped backward. He tried to read Hank’s face to understand what he had just said, but the protective mask for his broken nose and dark sunglasses covering his eyes made that impossible. He asked in a shaking voice, “What do you mean he’s not my kid?”

  Hank smiled and straightened himself to full height. “I’m telling you I’m Jacob’s father.”

  “Just because you marry Donna doesn’t mean you’re his father. That makes you a stepfather.”

  Hank’s grin broadened. “I’m his father because I’m the one who got Donna pregnant.”

  Nathan held his breath as his brain buzzed in confusion. “What? No, that’s impossible. You couldn’t be Jacob’s father unless…” Numbness spread from his chest through his body. His vision narrowed and focused on Hank. The sounds from the park disappeared into a hum of background noise. “You slept with Donna in high school? While she dated me?”

  The smile broadened across Hank’s smug face. “Yep.”

  Nathan shook his head, trying to focus his mind. His body felt as if he was submerged in quicksand. “When? I was with you every day at football practice and with her every evening doing homework.”

  “At night after you had to be home because of Ronnie and his stupid curfews. She and her mom were always fighting about stuff, and she would leave her house, but she couldn’t go to you because you were scared to get Ronnie mad. Worried social workers would find out and stick you in some foster home or orphanage or something. But my mom worked third shift, so she could come hang out all night. At first, we just talked. I would hold her as she cried. But after a while, it became more.”

  Nathan tried to fight off the feelings of loss overwhelming him. “The house wasn’t empty. Matt was there. How did you keep it from him?”

  “We didn’t. Matty knew. He always knew. Go ahead. Go ask him. He almost told you the night of the accident.”

  Nathan thought back to the banter when they were sitting in the car after the game, Matt threatening to expose his brother and Hank warning him not to. “He threatened to tell who you were sleeping with. We all thought how weird for you to hide that. You always bragged about girls you were with.” He scrunched his face, trying to think through the overflow of information. “Why would he keep your secret? Not like you two didn’t fight every other day over something.”

  “Blackmail is a funny thing. It works both ways. Donna wasn’t the only girl sneaking into our house at night. Colette came over as often as she could. Matty didn’t want Danny knowing that his little sister was spending the night. So if he told what I was doing, I would break open his little secret.”

  Nathan slumped against a tree beside the trail. “So Matt is in his room getting his girlfriend pregnant, and you’re in your room getting my girlfriend pregnant. Did you two idiots not pay attention in sex ed?” His mind raced, struggling to comprehend everything. “But why sneak around? If she wanted to be with you, why didn’t she just break up with me?”

  “Our stupid code. The Fearsome Foursome never stole each other’s girlfriends.”

  “Not that it ever stopped you before.”

  Hank shrugged and grinned. “I wasn’t worried about it, but she was. She didn’t want you to get mad at me during the season and screw up our team. We had games to win.”

  Nathan shook his head slowly in disbelief. “She didn’t want to break up because she thought it would affect football? We weren’t even that good.”

  “Hey, a cheerleader has to think of those things.” He chuckled before continuing, “I got her convinced to tell you right after the Roosevelt game. Season would be over, and it wouldn’t matter anymore. But then she found out earlier that week that she was pregnant. Didn’t see that coming, but it still would have worked out except the accident happened. I kept trying to get her to tell you, but she didn’t want to do that to you while you were in the hospital for weeks and going through all that physical therapy.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  “Think whatever you want, but it really was thoughtful. She felt horrible with everything going on. The problem was that she started showing, and people started figuring out she was pregnant. What was she going to do then? So she told everyone the baby was yours. So I thought, Screw her—plenty of other girls out there. I left for the Marines after graduation. Put her out of my mind until I ran into her last fall.”

  Nathan puzzled through what he had heard. “Even if what you’re saying is true—“

  “Ask her. Ask Matty.”

  “Not that. I believe that you two were screwing around behind my back. Wasn’t the first time you went after a girl I was dating.” He waved it off. “What I meant was she told everyone Jacob was mine. And we were sleeping together, so why couldn’t he be my son?”

  “I thought the same thing. Wondered sometimes but figured she knew somehow. Then I got proof he was mine.”

  “How?”

  “You know those genealogy DNA kits you can buy on the internet?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I took one years ago. Lady I was dating at the time was all into researching family trees and was curious about mine. I thought I knew all about our family, but the test revealed a surprise. I’m part Russian.”

  “Big deal. What does that have to do with Jacob?”

  “Like every old-time family in Millerton, our ancestors were Scotch-Irish. They all came over here in the 1700s and started farming. Your family is probably like that. Donna’s is, Danny’s, everyone except for people who have moved here recently, and there ain’t too many of them. The whole Appalachian mountains are like that, settled by Scotch-Irish. Except I’m not. I’m half Russian. That meant my dad was Russian.”

  “That’s nonsense. Your dad’s from here, and he ain’t Russian.”

  “Well, see, that was the surprise. Matty’s dad is from here. Turns out we’re half brothers. His dad is my stepdad. Apparently, my mother had her own secrets. Guess it runs in the family. But it does explain why Matty is wiry and fast and I’m big and slow.” Hank stuck his hands in his pockets. “I confronted Mom with the test results. She confessed that my dad was a sailor in the Navy, some guy she dated for a while—an American citizen, but a Russian by birth.”

  Dread crept through Nathan as he grasped for straws to disprove the story. “How does a Navy sailor come to Millerton?”

  “When she was young, she took off for Charleston just to live somewhere other than here. She had a secretarial job at the shipyard and met this hunky sailor. They had fun, but they both knew the relationship wasn’t really that serious. After he took off on his next tour, she found out she was pregnant. Surprise. She came back here to have me and started dating Matt’s dad. Everyone assumed he was father to both of us. Including me. He sure acted like my dad, even ran off without saying goodbye, just like my real dad. No one would have ever told me different if I hadn’t taken that stupid test.”

  Nathan really didn’t want to ask the question, but the need to know was impossible to ignore. “What does this have to do with Jacob?”

  “Donna saw the ads for these tests and told me about an old family rumor that she had some Cherokee in her. I saw my chance, so I got Donna one of those test kits for Christmas. I couldn’t give her jewelry or anything you would notice, right?”

  “She got me one of those for Christmas too.” Nathan’s mouth gaped open as Hank’s eyebrow shot up. “I’m such an idiot. She got it to cover that you h
ad bought her one too.”

  “Actually, I got it for you. Guess you owe me a Christmas present.” He waved Nathan’s objection away with a flip of his hand. “Partially, I got you one for cover. At least, that’s what I told Donna. But, really, I needed to know your background. Another piece of the puzzle. You remember your results?”

  “Mostly Scotch-Irish and some from Britain. Donna’s was pretty much the same. No Cherokee. She was disappointed.” He dismissed the talk, motioning to move the conversation along. “But doesn’t matter because we don’t know what Jacob is.”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  Nathan legs went weak, and his knees nearly buckled. “He never took the test. He would have told me.”

  “He didn’t know. I got Jacob and Luke into a spitting contest one day over at Matt’s house. Convinced Jacob to spit into the little test tube. He thought it was funny.”

  “You tricked our son into taking a DNA test?” Anger flared briefly but was quickly replaced by an aching fear as his stomach roiled. “And you’re saying he’s a fourth Russian?”

  “You got it.”

  “That still proves nothing.”

  “Well, since we know Donna’s heritage and that she’s the mom, it proves that his dad is half Russian. Someone like me. And not someone like you.”

  A cheer erupted from the crowd, drawing their attention through the trees to the game. The fight drained out of Nathan, replaced by a sinking feeling of despair. This crazy story couldn’t be true. “So you plan to prove that you’re his father?”

  Hank turned back to him with a slight smile on his lips. “Nope. Provided you make things easy on Donna, I’ll leave it alone.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Don’t contest the divorce. Don’t fight over custody.”

  “What do I get?”