by Jenny Rabe
He turned his back on her, hoping she learned something about the back side of him that she could use in that article. That would really get people talking.
After Coach Smalt’s pep talk, he went back to the dugout and grabbed a chunk of bubblegum, peach-flavored today, and his glove and then ran to the outfield.
By the time he reached his spot in the outfield, the girl was gone. Finally, he could focus. But instead of thinking about the girl on the bleachers, he thought about Cambria. He should’ve known better than to call things a date, but the words had just come out. After losing a spouse, she probably didn’t want guys anywhere near her.
A ball flew past his head, nearly hitting him. It landed with a thump next to his foot. Brian glanced toward Coach.
Coach Smalt threw up his arms. “Are you hoping someone else will touch your balls, cause no one’s gonna? Now get your head in the game.”
Brian hid a chuckle. At least Coach was funny. He threw the ball back to the pitcher and pushed all thoughts of any girl out of his head.
Coach called for a break forty minutes later, and Brian ran to the dugout to hydrate. His gum had lost its flavor, the sweat came in uncontrollable streams down his face and neck, and a break on the bench was much needed.
Rob slapped him on the back right where the pipeline of sweat ran. “Did you catch a ball yet?”
Brian grimaced as the shirt stuck to his back like hot glue. “Did you hit a ball?”
Rob raised his eyebrows. “Touché. Hey, I bet that girl’s just waiting around for you to ask her out. It’s obvious she’s got the hots for you. Look, she’s even cozied up to Sunny.”
Brian spun around, a new heat overtaking his body. She was talking to his dog now? Not looking at him anymore, the girl turned Sunny’s collar around and inspected it. It had his address on it. Anger boiled his already hot blood. This was not the moment to mess with him.
He stormed past the gate and right toward her. Enough was enough.
“Nice to meet you, Sunny,” she said, right before Brian stepped around the tree. She continued to turn the collar. “Brian D. 1255 W Court. Brian D?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice came out as more of a growl.
The woman startled as Brian stormed toward her. She stood and dropped the leash in her hand. Caught red-handed. “I-I—” She shook too much to get another word out.
He glared at her with venom in his eyes. She played with the bill of her hat when recognition flashed across his face. “Cambria? It’s you?”
She slid out of her parka, revealing her skinny frame. “Y-yeah.”
“So that’s why you ‘bumped into me’ . . . and now you’re showing up to my baseball practices?”
Cambria chewed on her bottom lip. “I-I didn’t mean to. I mean, I just saw your face, and you were helping me with my work.”
“And then you followed me to a grief meeting? How sick are you people? Don’t you have the decency to give grieving people privacy?
Cambria crossed her arms in front of her, holding herself together as her insides seemed to implode. Tears leaked down her eyes, showing too much weakness. “Th-that was a total coincidence.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m sure. Now, who sent you?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, not lowering his tone. “Who sent you? New York Times? Wall Street? Washington Post?”
Cambria’s brows scrunched together in confusion. “Nobody sent me. I found you on my own.”
Brian grabbed at her notebook sketches, but she pulled away just in time. “So you work for the local paper? Let’s see what you’ve got on me. I doubt you got much material from Sunny.”
“No, please.” She held the notebook tightly against her chest.
“Do I need to get a lawyer involved? You’re practically stalking me. You’re talking lawyer fees, trials. More expensive than I’m sure you can handle right now.”
Cambria’s face crumpled, and she released the notebook.
He caught it and flipped through each page, moving so fast the pages tore at the top. He slowed his pace as he neared the back. There were sketches of him. His heart thumped painfully inside him. “Why are you drawing me? Why can’t you people leave me alone?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I met you last week, and your face is all I wanted.”
“My face?” He held his hands to his cheeks and held out the notebook with a scowl. “I told the newspapers I was done giving into their demands. No more photos. No more articles.”
Cambria huffed and ripped her notebook out of his hands. “I don’t work for a newspaper. I’m an artist. I saw your face and it . . . helped me work through my own grief. I did not follow you to grief counseling.” Her face crumpled, and she covered it with her sketches to hide her tears. “I haven’t been able to really paint since Shawn died. Well, until I met you and . . . your face.”
Brian’s mouth dropped open. “So you’re not doing an article on me?”
She sniffled and wiped at her face with an arm. “No, I’m not. Even if I did work for a newspaper, I’d never be interested in you. As far as we’re concerned, you never have to worry about seeing me ever again.”
Chapter Twelve
Brian
I am such a dirtbag.
Brain stood helplessly as Cambria ran back up the hill, sobbing as she went. She hadn’t been following him to write an article about him. She’d been grieving. What an idiot he’d been. He waited only half a minute before deciding to run after her. He sprinted up the hill and down the mile loop a bit.
He lost her once she turned down a street with a row of houses on either side, but he didn’t stop. A door slammed shut a few houses down the block, and he picked up his speed.
When he recognized her clunker of a car a few houses down, he slowed to a jog. She lived in a tiny, red brick home with white shutters and a red door. Cute, really. He slowed his pace at the house beside Cambria’s. What if he ruined things even more? He decided against knocking and ran back to practice instead.
Coach had called an end to their practice by the time he returned, and he found Rob packing up in the dugout.
Rob looked up when he came in huffing. “Dude, I said go ask for her number, not yell at her.”
Brian grabbed his friend by the shoulder and forced him to sit. “Time to listen. That girl I met while I was running? It was her. The girl from the bleachers.”
“You really do have a stalker, then?”
Brian shook his head. “No, that’s what I’m saying. I messed everything up. Listen.” He started from the hit-and-run meeting, went to their service project assignment, and last to his thoughtless actions only minutes before.
When he finished, Brian leaned forward and held his face in his hands. “What do I do? Not only did I ruin a chance to date her, but I really hurt her. Her husband died, and I just rubbed it in her face like sandpaper.”
Rob made a tsking sound with his mouth. “Dude, you really screwed up. Maybe someone should publish this in a story somewhere.”
Brian pushed his friend’s shoulder and frowned. “Not funny, especially now that I think someone’s after me again.” He told Rob about the mysterious text.
Rob cleared his throat. “Look, it was probably just a coincidence. As far as Cambria goes, I know roses are kind of cliché, but I think a letter and some flowers would be a great way to say sorry. You said you know where she lives?”
Brian nodded. “That’s perfect. I doubt she’ll come to the meeting tonight, but maybe I’ll drop them off anyway. Thanks for the talk, buddy.”
“No problem. Go make things right.”
Before he headed home that night to shower for the meeting, he stopped by a flower store on Main Street. After some advice from the florist, he chose a bouquet of violets and deep-blue hyacinths. That was the easy part. The card and the words he would say would prove to be the challenge.
A few minutes later, he sat in his truck a few ho
uses down from Cambria’s, trying to find the right words. Twenty minutes passed, and he still didn’t know what to say. He’d chosen a simple card but something he hoped would make her smile. A teddy bear on the front held a sign that read, “I’m sorry I was such a bear.”
Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. He scribbled a message in the best penmanship he could manage. Then he left it on her doorstep, knocked, and prayed she’d open the door.
* * *
She wasn’t at the meeting when Brian arrived. The other seats were filled with his usual friends, but the room felt empty.
“It’s 6:30. Should we begin?” Jancy said, looking around the room once more. The only vacant seat was distracting, and Brian wanted to kick it across the room. If it weren’t for his big mouth, Cambria could be sitting next to him.
Arthur tapped the floor with his cane. “Where’s that cute little sweetheart who came last time?”
Brian flinched and shifted in his seat. So he wasn’t the only one who noticed. If Arthur knew what he’d done that afternoon, the old man wouldn’t be hitting the floor with his cane.
Jancy shrugged. “How are your projects going since we last met?”
Chris raised his hand to speak. “Sally and I decided to volunteer at the local Humanitarian Center. We walk dogs every other morning, clean cages, and pet and hold as many dogs as we can. It’s been good for us.”
Sally peeked out of her halo of hair. “It has been.”
Chris reached for Sally’s hand. With her other hand, she tucked a strand behind her ear and smiled. She had a beautiful smile.
“How about you and Arthur?” Jancy said, turning to Jim.
After giving her a wink, Jim turned to Arthur. “Well, we found out there’s a need at Arthur’s retirement home. The hair stylist who used to volunteer to cut the resident’s hair every week quit, so I decided to fill in. And Arthur sweeps the floor. With his cane.”
A cough sounded at the door of the meeting room and everyone’s attention shifted.
“Sorry I’m late. Took forever to get my car to start.” Cambria met Brian’s eyes, and she nodded. No smile but no hatred, either. He would take it.
“So glad you made it,” Jancy said, tapping the seat in between herself and Brian. “We were just talking about the progress on our service projects. How are you two doing on your graffiti project? I know the community is anxious to rid itself of those walls.”
Brian looked to Cambria to answer. He didn’t even know if she’d be interested in working with him now.
“We went to all the sites and we have a plan. We’re going tomorrow to try some removal product I use in my paintings.”
He wanted to sigh in relief, but when he gave her a subtle smile, she kept her face cryptic. All right, he deserved that. It would take time for her to trust him again. If only he would’ve known the girl in the bleachers was Cambria.
“Thanks everyone for putting your efforts into helping the community. I know that as we give selflessly, it helps in grieving our lost ones. The other day, someone asked me, if I could change the past, what would I change?”
Arthur grunted. “Mmm, I’ve got a list.”
The rest of the circle grunted in response, including Cambria.
“Anyway,” Jancy continued, “I’ve thought a lot about that. Of course I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
Brian straightened in his chair, no longer straining to watch Cambria from the corner of his eye. Mistakes, he knew all too well.
“Well, I’ve tried to think about how I could have reacted a little differently or chosen differently. The result? I’ve decided to keep my past, be proud of it even. It has made me who I am today, and, for the most part, I wouldn’t change what I’ve learned. Any thoughts about this?”
Brian met Jancy’s pleading gaze. Tonight he’d made so many mistakes that he felt like a good confession was in order.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” Brian said, breaking the silence.
The room sighed in relief that someone had taken the invisible mic. Brian glanced toward Cambria.
“In fact, I’ve done a lot of stupid things today.” Brian paused as Cambria finally met his eyes. “And even though I’m very sorry for what I did, I’m glad I know so I can be more aware of my surroundings next time. It turns out that I was flattered it even happened. So the only mistake that was made today was my reaction. I’ll make sure that never happens again.”
Cambria showed a wisp of a smile before she looked down at her lap where her hands were clasped tightly together.
“Thank you, Brian,” Jancy said. “Do you think forgiving and forgetting applies to loss too?”
He hadn’t talked much about his dad since joining the group, but today seemed like an easy way to settle into it. There was no way he could share all of his story, but parts wouldn’t hurt.
“I think all but Cambria know about my loss. My father passed away more than a year ago after a long battle with cancer. He was my hero and my best friend. I never knew my mom, and he’d raised me alone.”
Cambria looked to Brian, her eyes sparkling. His voice was about to betray him. He needed to finish this soon, before he said too much.
“I think about all the mistakes I made after his death, the many wrong turns I had. But Jancy’s right. I can’t undo the past. I can only move on.”
Brian stopped worrying about who was looking and wiped at the tears on his cheeks. Jancy tactfully thanked him, and then Chris took a turn speaking.
Today had been a growing day for Brian, and for once, the growth felt important. Even if he was making slow and steady steps, he was at least moving.
Brian was quiet the rest of the meeting, listening to others speak, though Cambria chose not to share again. By the time the meeting was over, he was ready to leave. Tonight had left him feeling raw and exposed, and he needed some space from the people in that room.
“See you next time,” he called out to no one in particular. He headed for the door at the end of Jancy’s closing thoughts, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. All he needed was an ice-cold drink and a TV show to zone out with.
“Brian, wait.”
Brian’s hand froze on the glass door at the sound of Cambria’s voice.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Brian walked through the door and motioned her to follow. This was not a conversation he wanted his other friends to hear. Once they were safely outside the room, he turned to her.
“I’m the one who should say sorry,” he said. “I followed you home, and I wanted to knock and say it then. But I thought it would make things worse.”
Cambria gave him a slow smile. “I loved the hyacinths. We bought a whole bunch for Shawn’s funeral.”
Brian’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for accusing you today and making your pain worse.”
“Who did you think I was?”
“Good question, but a really long answer.”
“I have time,” she said.
Brian studied her, her lips full and soft. She was finally giving him a reason to spend time with her, and he couldn’t. Not today. “How about a raincheck? I’ve made quite a few discoveries today and would love some processing time before I spew again.”
She nodded. “Understood. Should I still meet you at our graffiti site?”
Brian smiled. “Sure, if you’d still like to, though I’m a little worried I might ruin things again.”
“Yes, I want to. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cambria
The next day, Cambria avoided her trip to the park. She had more than enough material from the night before. She’d never seen him show so many expressions in one day. Remorse, sadness, relief, maybe even disappointment. She couldn’t stay mad at him when she felt everything he said was true.
She painted one of her last paintings, then showered before meeting Brian. On her way to their service location, she thought of
last night’s meeting. Something had changed between them, and, without wanting it to, her heart had opened to him a bit. Maybe it was the story about his dad or his willingness to apologize. Not many men she knew would’ve gone to such lengths to make things right.
She turned her blinker on and entered the lot. Brian was already there. A thrill went through her as she saw him resting against the wall and then panic as her car backfired when she put it in park.
He waved and came over to where she parked. “Need some help?”
She nodded and gestured to the car. “Sorry I’m late. My car shakes if I go over forty. Anyway I have some paint remover in the trunk.”
“Pop the trunk and I’ll get it. I’m kind of glad you were late. Gave me some time to think.”
Cambria couldn’t help herself. She waited until he came around the car with the paint remover in his hands. “What were you thinking about?”
He put the cans down and faced the wall. “Honestly?”
Did she really want to know? She waited until his eyes rested on her with a tired, but kind expression. “Yes.”
His hand reached out toward the wall, his expression torn. Was he debating whether graffiti counted as art? In her mind, scribbles from gang signs didn’t count, but she did see some rare beauty and talent in some of the pictures.
“I know I’ve said it already, but I’m really sorry about yesterday. Since moving here, I’ve gotten into this groove of living, putting the past behind me. I never realized until yesterday just how angry I was about everything that had happened. I lost myself in the grief and stopped doing things I really love doing. Mostly, I think I lost my purpose and playing baseball every day hasn’t helped near as much as I thought it had.”
Cambria nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Brian ran a hand over his stubbly face. He still hadn’t shaved, but the extra stubble was starting to grow on her. It softened his features somehow.
“Maybe,” he said. “Just not right now. I’m kind of excited to dig into some hard work.”
