She jogged down the stadium stairs, weaving her way against the current of the crowd headed toward the exit. She hoped Molly and the boys hadn’t already left. Her dad would still be there, but his presence no longer spurred or hindered her advance. As she broke through a group of raucous young men, she finally caught sight of Joe sitting just as she’d left him, eyes trained on the field, notebook across his knees.
“Duke,” Charlie called, lifting his head from where it rested on Molly’s shoulder. “Are you a lion?”
“No. I’m a Redbird.” She turned to Joe. “And I was wondering if I could see your notebook?”
“Mine?” he asked as if Yadier Molina had requested his T-ball bat.
“Yeah, I got a little caught up in other things earlier. I missed something pretty big, but I knew I could count on you to keep me honest.”
He smiled so broadly his little cheeks pushed his glasses up to the bill of his cap. “Sure.”
She made a big show of studying his notes. They were actually better than hers in a couple places, which didn’t surprise her. “I’m impressed. I didn’t realize they moved Brooks over to right field on the double switch in the eighth inning.”
“Yeah, he got the final out even though the batter was in the shadows and he faced the sun.”
Duke glanced at her father long enough to note the grudging nod of approval. She would’ve killed for that little gesture as a child, but it was no longer enough. She got his understated nature, and she didn’t fault him for his lack of expression. But now she also saw the damage his words, his tone, his disinterest had done. She understood the restlessness surging through her was the desire to do better, and for the first time in her life, it wasn’t for herself or for him. She could and would do better for Joe.
Crouching down so her eyes were on level with Joe’s, she said, “I’m going to ask him about that play in the locker room later. It’ll help him know we see how he’s growing. It’s going to let a lot of people who didn’t see the game tonight know he’s capable of making plays he hasn’t been trusted with yet. It’s going to boost his confidence in himself and other people’s confidence in him. It’s a little thing, Joe, but little things make a big difference over the course of a lifetime. Remember that, okay?”
He nodded seriously. “I will.”
She rose to face her parents. “I hope you enjoyed the game.”
“I enjoyed the last part an awful lot,” her mom said and patted her face.
“I did, too,” her father added, then said, “We won’t keep you, though. I know you’ve got work to do.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She hugged them both, then turned back to Molly. “Thank you, too.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” She inclined her head to Joe, who was still reading over his notes with a big smile on his face. “What you did there wasn’t just a little thing. You know that, right?”
“I want to try and do what I can to help the team. My team.”
Molly looked from her to Joe and to Charlie, then back out over the field. Duke followed her gaze and was once again impressed by how close it all felt. The energy, the passion, the beauty, but now it wasn’t past the fence. It spilled out over them. The feeling she’d struggled to find earlier now surrounded them all. She soaked it up, breathing deeply the scent of grass and popcorn tinged with the sweeter, more intimate smell of Molly’s shampoo. Somehow it all fit, and she fit, too. It wasn’t just a game anymore.
Molly rested her hand on her arm, connecting their comfort once again. “What are you thinking?”
She covered Molly’s hand with her own. This time she felt no need to hide from the emotions expanding her chest. “I really am just lucky to be here.”
Bottom of the Second
Never Let the Fear of Striking Out Keep You from Swinging the Bat
Molly carried another tray of salmon nestled atop risotto to a couple of men in expensive-looking business suits. The special of the day had been popular with the high-end lunch crowd, and it did look delicious even if she couldn’t imagine spending thirty dollars a pop on a midday entrée, much less adding appetizers and drinks to the tab. This table alone would spend more on the bill for one meal than she needed to feed her family of three for a full week. It would’ve angered her to see such waste if she didn’t look forward to the tip she’d likely get on the tab. That thought kept her smiling, even when one of the men insisted on referring to her as “sweetheart” and “honey.”
Trying to walk the tightrope between being attentive and hovering, Molly retreated to the outer edge of the room and surveyed her other tables. Table four was cleared. Table nine had their orders in. Table twelve might be ready for the check soon. Table six had their bill paid but lingered. The group of three men and one woman had talked baseball for an hour, and she got the sense it wasn’t a casual conversation. They must be affiliated with the team.
The restaurant was the nicest place within walking distance of the stadium, and owned by a former player, so anyone tied to the team got preferential treatment. In turn they rewarded him with their patronage and generous consumption of food and drink. She imagined many of the people she waited on were powerful and maybe even famous. She probably could have sold her fair share of gossip over the last eight years, but she’d never do anything to jeopardize a job of this caliber, and even if she did, who would she sell it to?
Immediately she thought of Duke and smiled at the absurdity of the idea. Duke wouldn’t deal in gossip any more than Molly would. Honest, earnest, and almost maddeningly good-natured Duke. Despite the circumstances under which they’d met, Molly knew now she could trust her with anything, including her children. Her chest ached at the memory of Duke crouched down, her head close to Joe’s as they reviewed his notes. She wasn’t sure which one of them had needed the interaction more. Duke clearly carried more hurt and insecurity than her good nature and easy laugh ever showed. Molly hadn’t enjoyed seeing the wounded side of her. It stirred a protective instinct that hinted at emotions stronger than a casual acquaintance should engender.
Of course she admired Duke for her dedication and her openness. She even felt drawn to her passion, but who wouldn’t? She’d raised their whole family’s baseball IQ several points and done so with an enthusiasm no one with a heart could resist. Molly could even admit she found a few of Duke’s better qualities attractive. Her hands for one, strong, sure, and graceful. Duke’s eyes were the clearest shade of blue imaginable. She would’ve compared them to ice except there was nothing cold in them. In fact, Molly had never felt so warm as when Duke had covered her hand with her own, caught her in that powder blue gaze, and said, “I’m just lucky to be here.”
She shook off the chill that raised the hair on her arms.
“Where were you at?” Emma asked as she brushed past with a bussing tray full of dirty dishes.
“Nowhere,” Molly said quickly.
“Looked like you had a happy thought that turned on you.” Emma laughed. “Or turned you on.”
Molly swatted at her. “Go clear table seven.”
She hadn’t been turned on. Duke stirred a lot of emotions, but arousal wasn’t one of them. Finer points aside, she was such a guy. Molly had fought hard to own her sexual orientation, and she hadn’t done so to date someone just like her ex-husband or father-in-law. When she finally got around to dating a woman, it would be a woman. Duke was a great person, a truly special person even, amazing friend material, but lacking fantasy potential. If her thoughts wandered anywhere near considering Duke romantically, it was only her mind and body in a desperate attempt to convince her she needed to get out more. Her last date had been the night Charlie was conceived, and he was the only good thing to come out of the experience. Well, him and the realization she couldn’t live a lie any longer.
Four years later, she had a better understanding of herself and what she wanted, even if she wasn’t any closer to finding it. At least now she understood Duke wasn’t the answer. When she did start
dating again, she’d find someone who wore skirts and perfume and talked softly about wine and romantic comedies. A woman like Lauren.
Molly stole another glance at table twelve. They looked like they’d finished eating enough to warrant another check-in. She caught Lauren’s eye as she approached so she could speak directly to her. “How was everything?”
“Wonderful as usual.” Lauren’s smile was slow and appreciative. “The food is my second favorite reason for having lunch here.”
“We aim to please.”
“Come on,” Lauren teased gently, tapping one manicured fingernail on the white tablecloth. “Aren’t you going to ask what my first favorite reason is?”
“I assumed it was our wine list.”
“Well, you know what they say about making assumptions.”
“What do they say about it?”
The corners of Lauren’s beautiful red lips curved up playfully. “Let’s just say you shouldn’t do it.”
“Okay, then I won’t assume you’d like to see the dessert menu.”
“No, you can always assume that.” She then turned to the other people at the table. “But these two have to get going, so why don’t you have my crème brûlée sent to the bar along with two coffees and the check.”
“Absolutely.”
Molly retreated to the kitchen to deposit the order and pick up table nine’s lobster roll and Greek salad. She made sure everything met with the patrons’ approval and checked to confirm the group from table six had cleared out before ducking back into the kitchen to pick up Lauren’s dessert and drinks. Setting them on the bar in front of Lauren, she said, “There you are, one crème brûlée and two coffees.”
Lauren raised one delicately shaped eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to ask why I ordered two coffees?”
“Fine.” Molly played at exasperation but smiled anyway. “Why two coffees?”
“One for me and one for you.”
Molly’s heartbeat accelerated in a good way. “Then why didn’t you order two spoons with the crème brûlée?”
Lauren laughed or at least chuckled softly. “I don’t share dessert with anyone.”
“I can’t eat during work hours anyway.”
“Then we’ll wait until after you get off work.”
“My shift isn’t over until three o’clock, which is when I have to pick up my son from school.”
If the revelation startled Lauren, it didn’t show. Her perfectly fitted navy suit and long brunette locks suggested she wasn’t the type to fall to pieces at a shift in the breeze or conversation. “What about this weekend? Will you get a break then?”
“No,” she said sadly. “A single mom never gets a break.”
“Everyone needs a break sometime, Molly.”
She sighed, wishing that were true. She had a busy job, a tight budget, and two kids to raise. She simply didn’t know how she’d fit something like a date into her life, much less a real relationship, and she had a feeling if she had one date with Lauren she’d leave wanting a relationship. Which was why she’d always played off Lauren’s flirting, though it had been subtler until now. “Needing and getting don’t always go together.”
“Not always,” Lauren agreed. Then pressing her lips together thoughtfully, she pulled a business card from her wallet and slid it across the bar to Molly. “But then again, sometimes they do. And whenever that happens for you, I hope you’ll call me.”
Molly picked up the card and promised the only thing she could. “I’ll think about it.”
*
Joe hung his head as strike three buzzed past a hitter who didn’t even bother to lift the bat off his shoulder. The game wasn’t a pretty one, and even Molly could see it wouldn’t end well. A loss seemed the only fitting end to the week she’d had. Work had been a mess, with two servers calling in sick on Friday night. She’d had to scramble to find a replacement for one and then call in favors to find play dates for Joe and Charlie so she could cover for the other. Then she’d had to go back on Saturday morning, dragging both boys with her to close out the accounts on receipts that refused to match up.
She appreciated the extra hours and responsibility management had given her by letting her learn the books. She hoped the added duties were signs she was being considered for a promotion, and she needed the money, but extra hours on the clock meant extra time away from her family. The boys resented missing their usual time with her and being stuck in a restaurant. Joe did what he could to help with Charlie, but it was ultimately unfair to ask a nine-year-old boy to control a toddler who often got the best of trained child-care professionals. Eventually frustration got the better of Joe. He signaled his surrender by withdrawing completely and burying his nose in a book. Charlie registered his discontent with their lack of attention by wrecking everything he touched. To count he’d dumped out two salt shakers, squashed four plastic cups of coffee creamer, and tried to catch fish from the aquarium with his bare hands.
She shouldn’t have brought them to work. Empty restaurants offered nothing but trouble for two boys, but she’d already indebted herself to friends the night before. Besides, she was away from them all week, and she didn’t want her kids to be raised by a sitter on the weekend, too. She almost let herself wish she had family around, but she refused to go there. She was capable of caring for her own family, but by the time they got to the stadium, she was a ball of nerves and running on nothing but coffee.
She caught Charlie by the straps of his overalls before he hurled himself over his seat back. “Please, sit still for five minutes and Mommy will buy you whatever you want, okay?”
“I want a hot dog,” Charlie said.
“Of course you do.”
“It is well past the third inning,” Duke said, scooping Charlie into her arms and depositing him onto her lap as she took his open seat.
Molly snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what inning it is in this painfully slow death march your beloved Cardinals are on?”
“Painfully slow death march?” Duke grinned. “Can I tweet that?”
“Go for it.”
She whipped out her phone and tapped a rapid succession of keys. “Here, Charlie, push the blue button.”
Charlie did as told, mesmerized by the technology before him.
“There, Charlie sent his first tweet. Joe is a baseball savant.” She patted his cap-covered head. “And Charlie is a social media guru. You’re raising a pair of geniuses.”
How was she so damn chipper all the time? The Cardinal player at the plate looked at another called-strike-three on their way to an embarrassing defeat. Shouldn’t that at least make her grumpy? “Your team is going to lose.”
“Looks like it.”
“Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“It did, but I went to the bathroom to kick around some trash cans. Then I tripped an old lady.”
“Really?” Joe asked, his eyes wide and horrified behind his glasses.
“No.” Duke laughed before turning serious as she returned her focus to Molly. “I get frustrated, of course, but we’re all human. Everyone has bad days, even heroes. I try to keep things in perspective.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means everybody’s allowed to have bad days from time to time.”
Molly pursed her lips so hard she felt the tension through her whole face. Pinching the bridge of her nose to keep a headache from taking hold between her eyes, she tried to take a few deep breaths.
“How can I help, Molly?”
“I don’t need any help.” Her voice sounded harsher than she’d intended, but Duke didn’t flinch.
“It’s okay to need help.”
“I’m just tired.” She removed her hand from her face and met Duke’s eyes. She made her best attempt at a confident smile, the one that fooled everyone from her boss to her customers to Joe. The look usually let people off the hook. They offered to listen out of politeness, she refused out of pride. They’d both done their parts and could
now move on to more neutral topics. But Duke didn’t blink, she didn’t look away, the intensity of her gaze never wavered. She waited, quietly examining her expression, as if expecting it to crack open.
For the first time in years Molly thought she might actually fall apart. Sure, there’d been plenty of times she’d wanted to cave, to beg for help, to cry, but until now she’d never actually feared doing so. Her shoulders ached from the tension of the burdens she longed to loosen. What was it about Duke that made her wish for a breakdown?
“Hey, Duke,” Joe interrupted. “Why hasn’t Cayden Brooks gotten a hit all week?”
Duke’s eyes twitched away, then quickly back, apology evident in her expression. She raised her eyebrows at Molly as if giving her one more chance to claim the attention she’d offered, but the spell had broken. Molly’s walls remained firmly in place at the reminder of where her attention should be focused. With a flash of a frown Duke turned back to Joe.
“I think Cayden’s afraid of striking out.”
“But he strikes out anyway.”
“That’s the funny thing about being afraid to try. You usually end up getting exactly what you were afraid of anyway.” Duke cast another quick glance at Molly. “You can’t let fear of striking out keep you from swinging the bat.”
“I don’t get it.” Joe shook his head. “When he doesn’t swing, that’s striking out, too.”
Duke smiled kindly. “Did you know I didn’t play baseball?”
“What? Why?”
Molly’s interest piqued at the admission too. She’d assumed Duke had been a ballplayer. Sure, she’d never mentioned playing, in any of the many discussions they’d had about the sport, but she seemed like someone who wouldn’t let anything stand between her and something she loved.
“It’s a long story.” Duke brushed off the question, but her brow furrowed with consternation or maybe regret. “But I didn’t think I could do it well enough. Or maybe I didn’t think anyone would let me do it right. The thing is, I was stubborn and I wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect control. If I couldn’t be the best or play the best, I wouldn’t play at all.”
Heart of the Game Page 7
