Until Delilah
Page 2
“Thank you. I think so too.”
Squatting down to eye level with him, December asks, “Were you on a baseball team back where you used to live?”
He nods enthusiastically. “It’s my favorite.”
“You know, my son is coaching an after-school baseball team. Would you be interested in it? It’s only one day a week, but it’s free. It starts tomorrow if you’d like to sign up.”
“Tomorrow you say?” I frown, unsure if it’s a good idea. “I’ll think about it. Is there something I need to sign?”
“Yes, but you can always do it after he signs up if that helps.”
Picking up Beckham’s backpack off the ground, I sling it over my shoulder. “Thank you. We need to get going, so say goodbye to Mrs. Black.”
Beckham looks from me to the baseball field with sad eyes. I hate to make him leave, but we need to get back to the shelter so I can help with dinner. Tonight is my night and I can’t be late for two things in one day.
“I know you two are new to town and I’d like to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night. My son will be there, and he can tell you more about the baseball program.”
Taking a step back, I take Beck’s hand in mine. While his teacher seems nice, I feel like she’s taking pity on us. How often does she invite her student’s over for dinner?
“That’s a very kind offer, but I would hate to impose.” The weight of Beck’s hand in mine makes me look down at him. His blue eyes are brimming with tears. I can’t say no if it’s going to cause him such sadness. The change in our lives has already been too hard on him. He went from living in a house most would consider a mansion to now sharing one room with me where we have to share a tiny bed. If something as small as having dinner with his teacher will make him happy, I’ll do it.
“We’d love to come to dinner,” I finally agree.
“Perfect.” December smiles brightly. “I’ll put a note in Beckham’s backpack tomorrow with our address and the time.”
I smile weakly at her. I know proper etiquette would be to bring something for dinner, but I only have a small amount of money for us to get by on until I get a job. What little money I do have, I want to use it for rent on a place for us and I’ll need every last dollar I have for the baby. I didn’t have time to get any money out of the bank before we left. Never once did I think I’d be afraid for my life when I met Bradley, but after I saw the monstrous look on his face before he attacked me, I knew we were no longer safe. He knows I now know the secret he’s kept from me all this time.
Hopefully December and her family will understand I don’t have the resources after moving to a new town to bring a bottle of wine or a dish because there is no way in hell I’m telling them why we’re really in Murfreesboro.
2
Delilah
Beckham smiles happily as we walk up the driveway of Mrs. Black’s house. He’s been bouncing with excitement the whole way over here, to have dinner with his teacher and meet the man who runs the after-school baseball program at his new school.
“Are you excited?” I ask as I ring the doorbell. It feels all kinds of wrong to be on his teacher’s doorstep, but the sad look in his eyes yesterday broke my heart and there’s no way I’m going back on my word.
The door swings open and December stands there in a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt. It makes me happy I decided not to dress up for the occasion.
“Hello.” She draws out the word with a bright smile on her face. “I’m so glad you two could come to dinner.”
“Thank you for having us. It smells wonderful.” Even from the doorway, the aroma of tomatoes and garlic fills the air.
She steps back holding the door open for us. “Please come in. I hope you like lasagna.”
“We love it,” I answer truthfully as we step inside the house. Bradley had me on a strict diet and Italian was out. He said if I ate all the carbs I wanted to, I’d be a fat ass. My fat ass sure didn’t seem to bother him when we first started dating, but the second we moved into his house, he quickly had a set of rules I needed to follow. That should have been my first indication Bradley wasn’t the man he seemed, but I was in denial and realized too late what an asshole and a bad person he really is.
“I’m just finishing up in the kitchen, but dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Please relax and have a seat,” December chirps as she moves through the house.
I try to follow her but have to stop when Beckham comes to an abrupt halt in the middle of the living room. “Beck, what’s the matter with you?” I whisper a moment before my eyes land on an extremely attractive man sitting on the couch. His blondish-brown hair is cut close on the sides and a little longer on the top, but it’s his piercing blue eyes that have me captivated.
He stands and comes to stand in front of us. “You must be Beckham and Delilah. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Max.” Leaning down, he holds his hand out for Beck to shake.
Beck lifts his hand in a daze and pulls it to his chest when he gets it back. “You’re Max Black,” he says in awe.
“I am.” Max almost blinds us with his brilliant smile. “Are you a fan?”
Am I missing something here? How does my son know who this man is?
“I’m Beckham, your biggest fan in the whole wide world.” Beckham looks at him with an emotion I’ve never seen on his face.
Is this the Max Black who plays for the Yankees? Even though I know next to nothing about baseball, I do know my son’s favorite player and team. Could the man before me be the same Max Black?
“Well, then, it’s a good thing we finally got to meet. I’m always happy to meet my fans.”
The front door opens causing me to turn around and a man who has to be Max’s father walks into the house. They look almost exactly alike with the same muscular build, hair, and eye color with the exception of a few wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Max is going to one damn fine man as he ages if his father is anything to go by.
Why am I thinking of how fine he’s going to be? I just got out of an extremely horrible relationship and to top it all off, I’m pregnant with that asshole’s child. The last thing I need to think about is getting involved with a man, not that he’d be interested once he finds out I’m pregnant. Not that I’m interested in any man. I don’t need any more hassle in my life.
Max stands and pats the man on the back. “Dad, I’d like for you to meet my biggest fan, Beckham.”
“It’s good to meet you, Beckham.” He holds his hand out to first my son and then me. “I’m Mrs. Black’s husband, Gareth.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Delilah. It was very sweet of your wife to invite us over for dinner.”
“December loves having people over since she loves cooking. She’s from a big family, and she hasn’t quite figured out how to cook for only a few people,” Gareth laughs.
“You can always send me the leftovers. I hate cooking for one,” Max declares.
How is he single?
“You’re always welcome to come over for dinner, Son.”
“Are you an only child?” I ask.
“No,” Max shakes his head. “I have an older brother Mitchell who’s married with kids. Mitchell and Bailey are busy tonight otherwise they’d be here, and then there’s my little sister Molly who’s away at college.”
Hearing Max speak about his brother and sister makes me miss my little sister, Ava. It has been so long since I last saw her.
“Dinner,” December calls as she steps out of the kitchen with a large dish that smells heavenly. “Gareth, would you please grab the garlic bread?”
“Of course. What would everyone like to drink? We have water, milk, orange juice, and maybe some sort of soda.” Gareth starts in the direction December just came from as he talks.
December and Max call out their drink orders, leaving Gareth looking at us for our order.
“I’ll have a water and Beckham will have milk.” I don’t need him bouncing off the walls when we get back to the shelter.
“Do you need any help?” I ask, following along. I hate sitting around and doing nothing when I know I can help. I hate feeling useless.
“You don’t need to do that, you’re our guest,” Gareth says as he places the garlic bread on a plate.
“I’m happy to help, really. Just direct me where you need me.” I come to stand at the counter while Max sets out glasses for all of us.
“Is this okay for the little guy?” He looks sheepish. “I didn’t know if he needed a plastic cup or anything like that.”
It’s sweet he thought of Beck and what he might need.
“He’s good with what you have, but thank you.” I take the gallon of milk he sets on the kitchen counter and pour Beck a glass and then fill one of the glasses with water from the refrigerator. “Did you want water as well?” I ask even though I heard what he wanted. I look over my shoulder to find Max checking out my ass.
He clears his throat and shakes his head a little. “Yes, thank you.”
Max
I can’t keep my eyes off the woman sitting across from me. She’s breathtaking with eyes the color of the ocean and pale skin that sets them off even more. Her lush pink lips have me desperate to crush my mouth to hers.
I’ve noticed all through dinner, while she’s chatted easily enough, there’s strain there and I’m dying to find out why. There’s also the cut on her lip and, if I’m not mistaken, the end of a healing black eye.
Looking to my left, I smile down at her son, Beckham, who’s got to be one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever met. He looks up at me with starstruck eyes filled with wonder.
“Hey, buddy. If it’s okay with your mom, do you want to go out back and play some catch? Maybe even hit the ball around some?”
It’s as if I offered him a million dollars with the way he’s blinking at me in disbelief.
“Can I, Mom?” he asks eagerly. His eyes and smile are so wide I don’t know how she ever tells her boy no.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea while I help clean up the lovely dinner Mrs. Black made for us.” Delilah’s eyes land on me and she mouths thank you.
I nod to her as I stand. Beckham is already up and out of his seat. He certainly has a lot of energy for a seven-year-old. Not that I’m around many to know the difference.
Holding open the door for my new friend, I let him pass before I head around to the back of the garage to grab the baseball gear my dad always keeps on hand for when I’m here.
The moment I step outside the garage with a couple of gloves, a ball, and a bat, I see the love this kid has for baseball. It brings me back to when I was his age and my love for the sport. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d make a career out of it. That’s why I started the program at the elementary school and chose to coach one of the little league teams. I want to give everyone a chance at their dream like I had.
We start slowly tossing the ball back and forth to get warmed up and I gradually move back, creating distance between us and increasing my speed to see what the kid has. He’s good. Damn good going by the pitches I’m hurling at him. I’m not giving him my fastball, but I’ve had kids ten years older than him not be able to handle the pitches I’m giving him.
“Do you want to hit the ball some?” I call as I start back to him. He nods enthusiastically and runs over to grab the bat we left by the side of the garage.
“Are you planning on joining the school program or thinking about joining a little league team?” I ask as I come up beside him to check his stance. For being so young, he’s got it almost perfect. My gut’s telling me he’s going to go pro one day.
“Do you mind if I show you a better way to stand? It will give you more force when hitting the ball.” I ask because I don’t want him freaking out when I touch him. I’m not sure what’s appropriate or how he’ll react. I’m also not sure if whoever put the bruise and split lip on Delilah, hit him as well.
He moves closer, signaling for me to show him. I only give him a few minor tweaks before he’s standing in front of me perfectly. Did his dad coach him?
I don’t think Delilah’s married. Earlier at dinner, I didn’t notice a ring on her finger. Was he who gave her the black eye and split lip? Fury courses through me thinking about a man hitting her.
“Did your dad teach you how to play baseball?” I ask as I start to move back so I can pitch him the ball.
Beckham breaks his stance looking down at his feet for only a second and when he looks back up at me, his eyes are sad and older than any seven-year-old’s should ever look.
“My dad died when I was a baby. Last year my mom signed me up to play Little League back… that’s where I learned.” He swings the bat, and I can tell he’s impatient for me to throw the ball.
If his dad’s dead, who the hell beat up his mom?
I know I can’t ask any more questions tonight though. Even though he’s a sweet kid, I see that he’ll start to shut down if I ask too many questions. Instead, I have fun with him. It feels good to not worry about my shoulder and just play for the love of the game.
Twenty minutes later, Delilah steps outside with my dad and mom. They’d been watching us from inside, and I knew my time with him was coming to a close.
Delilah steps out into the yard and starts toward her son. “Beck, sweetheart, we need to go.” His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t protest. He simply gathers the glove he used earlier and places it on the table before he walks up to me with his mom coming in behind him.
He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Thank you, Mr. Black. That was a dream come true.”
Damn, this kid is awesome. “You’re very welcome. You don’t need to call me Mr. Black, though. You can just call me Max.”
He looks to his mom to see if it’s okay with her, and she nods.
“I think you made his whole year if not more, so thank you. I know it really means a lot to Beck.”
“Can I talk to you over here for a second before you leave?” She nods and her eyes dart to her son. I place my hand on her lower back, and she freezes, her entire body tensing for a moment before she moves off to the side and out of my reach.
I don’t know if I should address the issue of me touching her or not, but when she stands there as if nothing happened, I shake it off.
“I’m not sure how much you know about baseball, but your son has real talent. I know my mom talked to you about him maybe joining the after-school program or the Little League team. While I don’t know your circumstances, I think it would be extremely beneficial for Beckham to join the Little League team I coach.”
“Um… I don’t know.” She looks off into the distance. “We’re new and all, and I don’t really know my way around town.”
“That’s okay. It’s easy to find your way around. We meet up at the school to practice one day a week, although I’m thinking of making it two, and then there’s usually two games on the weekends. It’s at the park near the school, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
She twists her lips and then looks back to her son. “The thing is, I’m looking for a job and I don’t know what my hours will be like. Will he get in trouble if he can’t come to a game?”
“No, of course not, but I’m sure someone would be happy to take him if you can’t bring him. I’ll do it if there’s ever a time you can’t bring him.”
I remember the days when it was only dad, Mitchell, and I, and I don’t know how we would have got to our after-school sports or anything else we did if it weren’t for my grandma and aunts picking us up and taking us where we needed to be while dad worked.
“Beck would love it, and I’d like him to be able to make some friends here. He’s missing his friends from back home terribly.”
The wind blows through the backyard, causing some of her hair to fly in her face. Involuntarily, my hand raises and brushes the hair away. My fingers skim along the apple of her cheek, sendi
ng electricity through my arm.
Delilah jumps back and I’m not sure if it’s from the zing of electricity or she doesn’t like to be touched. I don’t comment on it though. Not tonight.
“We’d love to have him on the team, and I know him and the boys will get along great. Practice starts tomorrow night at six, but lots get there early to start warming up so we can get started, so everyone can go eat dinner and do homework.”
“And it’s at the school, right?” she questions as she brings up the Uber app on her phone.
Does she not have a car? Is that why she’s worried about where the practice and games are? I’ll have to figure out a way for me or someone else to offer rides for them in the future.
“You know, I’m getting ready to leave and I can give you and Beckham a ride home if you’d like.”
Delilah looks up at me with her finger hovering to order her ride. “Oh, um… you don’t really need to do that. I’d hate to be an inconvenience.”
“It’s not a problem at all.” And even if it is, I’m not going to let her take an Uber home.
“That would be nice, and I’m sure Beckham will love to get to hang out with his hero for a little longer. He really is your number one fan.”
“And how about you? Do you have a favorite player?”
She smiles and shakes her head as she starts to where everyone is standing by the back door. “I don’t know enough about the game to have a favorite player. I’m not sure where he gets his love for it, except maybe from my dad. He loves to take Beckham to games when he can.”
Interesting.
Maybe I can work on Delilah to get her to say I’m her favorite player.
“Again, thank you for asking us over for dinner. Hopefully, sometime in the future, I’ll be able to return the gesture,” Delilah says to Mom and Dad.
Mom reaches out and pats her on the arm. I notice Delilah doesn’t seem to mind her touch. Maybe it’s just men. “Oh, it was lovely having you and Beckham over. We’ll have to do it again.”