Her Best Catch

by Lindi Peterson

“Hey, Allison,” Velvet says as she looks over my shoulder to the bus area. “Did Braedyn make it?”

  “Braedyn? Sure. She made it.” I try to keep my voice non-mad sounding. I don’t think it works.

  “Good. She left a message on my cell. Her car wouldn’t start. She tried to call Trent, too.”

  Now I’m confused.

  “Why did she call you guys?”

  “I guess she knew we were coming to see everyone off. And her message sounded a little panicked. Apparently she couldn’t reach anyone on the mission team.”

  So Braedyn had car trouble. How convenient. Heat is beginning to radiate from the asphalt. Beads of sweat form on my brow. “Apparently she did. She showed up with Ashton.”

  More beads of sweat are forming. Does all this mean Braedyn has Ashton’s number? A way to reach him?

  You’d think Braedyn could have reached Keifer. He probably hasn’t even left his house yet. I wonder if I have a missed call on my cell phone?

  Velvet gives me a funny look. “Ah, now I see,” she says.

  “You don’t see anything,” I counter.

  “I see Allison is going to have an interesting trip,” Velvet says, keeping her voice low.

  “This trip is all about God and helping people,” I say, somewhat louder. I need to stay focused on our mission. If Ashton can do it, so can I.

  He probably could have had a whole interview based on his new job prospects but he chose not to. I admire him for standing his ground because I personally think reporters can be evil.

  Keifer pulls up. Instead of pulling luggage out of his back seat, he hands off a couple dozen doughnuts.

  “Make sure those make it on the bus,” he yells.

  As soon as Keifer’s stuff is loaded everybody who came to help load the bus and see us off start hugging us and saying goodbye. Before the crowd can disperse, Jax gathers everyone around us and says a prayer. I’m praying Jax’s words, one after another. He speaks them out loud, I repeat them inside. It’s my way of keeping my thoughts from straying, and God only knows where my prayers would be leading right now if left unguided. I try so hard to be good in thought, word and deed. Sometimes the thought aspect is the hardest one of all.

  Thoughts of Braedyn riding with Ashton lead to other thoughts, some not so nice. See God, here I go again.

  I focus back on Jax’s prayer. A loud Amen is heard from the whole crowd. It’s a wonderful feeling knowing the body of Christ is praying for you.

  They need to be praying for me.

  I notice Jax and Ashton having a short discussion before Ashton climbs on the bus. Jax pats him on the back.

  “You’ll do all right,” Jax says.

  Maybe Ashton has reservations about the trip. I know I do.

  Randy is driving the bus, and Bandy is in the seat behind him. The seat across from Bandy is empty. As Ashton boards, I wonder where he’ll choose to make camp for the drive. Braedyn and I both have empty seats next to us. So does Keifer.

  To my surprise, Ashton camps it on the first row, across the aisle from Bandy. But he doesn’t sit facing forward. He turns around and faces us.

  “Hey guys,” he starts. “Jax wanted me to tell you just because we’re on the bus, doesn’t mean we get out of Sunday school. Russell, Pixie and Bandy, you’re going to have to go along with our lesson this morning.”

  We all laugh while inside I want to cry. Mixed tears of happiness-Ashton is so involved and loving every minute of it-and sorrow, why did he need to leave us? Who am I kidding?

  Why did he have to leave me?

  “We’re continuing on in James,” Ashton says.

  There’s a minute of silence as we flip pages in our Bibles.

  “When Jax called me and asked me to do the lesson this week I told him no way. This isn’t my zone, I’m not knowledgeable. I’m sure you’ve heard all the excuses before.”

  Murmurs of acknowledgment are heard from all of us.

  “But then he told me something that set it straight for me. It’s not about me. It’s about these words.”

  He holds up his Bible.

  “These are the words of God. They can’t cause harm. They shouldn’t make me uncomfortable. So here I am, guys, repeating God’s words to us.”

  “I think it’s a great verse to study as we head on our trip,” Randy says.

  Ashton turns toward our driver. “Exactly what I thought, Randy. What more could we ask of God? If we humble ourselves He will lift us up to do His work.”

  Ashton turns back around, facing us.

  Keifer scrambles to the back and grabs his guitar. He starts to play and Braedyn’s soprano voice leads us as we sing. “Humble thyself in the eyes of the Lord.”

  The bus resounds with the plea to our Father to humble us and let His work be done to His glory.

  Ashton Boyd. You are everything I’ve been looking for. I’m so sorry you have to go.

  The small Kentucky town is poor, information we knew ahead of time. But the word poor takes on a new meaning for me as Randy parks the bus. Heavy clouds block the sun which lends a darkened mood to an already dark scenario.

  Shacks are what these people call home. Dark shirts and denim jeans along with bedding hang out to dry on a line strung between two trees. Washers sit on front porches. I think the tents Randy brought are worth more than some of these houses.

  We exit the bus. Randy gathers us in a circle, his clipboard the center of attention.

  “Hi, gang.”

  We part our circle at the sound of the voice. It belongs to a young man, about my age I would guess. He’s very attractive with his dark brown hair just long enough to be tied in a pony tail at the nape of his neck, and little wire-rimmed glasses.

  I’m going to have to tell Mother. A pastor with a ponytail and glasses. Maybe my look is catching on.

  “I’m Ryan Brown. Pastor of the first and only church of Redmondson, Kentucky. And boy, am I glad to see you guys.”

  A round of “Hi, Ryans” fills the air.

  Randy holds out his hand. “Randy Hawthorne. Leader of this motley crew.”

  He then introduces us individually to Ryan.

  I notice a different look on Pastor Ryan’s face as he’s introduced to Braedyn. A look of interest, perhaps?

  Stop it, Allison. Pastor Ryan’s look was no different than when he looked at anyone else. Quit trying to pass Braedyn off to every single guy we meet.

  Besides, it doesn’t really matter. We’re not here to be contestants on the dating game. We’re here to repair houses, do a vacation Bible school, and set up a Sunday school program for the church.

  We have a lot of work to do this week.

  Ryan looks around our circle and smiles. “Since it’s late afternoon I thought we’d start out with a prayer service in the church. That way we can kind of get to know each other, and I can show you where all the building materials are stored. We’ll be ready to start early in the morning. Sound good?”

  Wow. He’s another Randy. Best laid plans and all that.

  The community has been invited for the prayer service which will start in about an hour. We use this time to set up our tents. Braedyn and I are sharing one. Once it is set up, we throw our sleeping bags, pillows and duffle bags into our gray domed house.

  “Home sweet home for the next week,” I say to Braedyn.

  “Yeah. It’s different here, huh?”

  “Different doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  Braedyn has one of her cameras hanging around her neck. She begins shooting some pictures of the area. The landscape is beautiful. Lush green trees surround us, with glimpses of mountain views where the trees part. The air is cooler here. Not cold, just cool. I’m glad I brought a jacket for the evening. I have a feeling I’ll be needing one.

  “Pastor Ryan is cute, don’t you think?” Braedyn asks.

  “Yeah. He’s cute if you like the tall, dark and handsome type.”

  Braedyn snaps a picture of me. “What type do you like, Allison? Tall, da
rk and handsome, or tall, dark and a handsome pitcher?”

  She snaps another shot, and I’d love to take a look at that one. I wasn’t expecting such a personal question.

  “I don’t know what my type is,” I answer. Well, I do know, but can’t risk my heart.

  “Obviously.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. Her comment and her tone are both subject to an inquisition.

  “Well, you could have had a tall, brown-haired pitcher but you blew it, I guess.”

  What did she know? She didn’t know my heart. She didn’t know Ashton is what I want, but he isn’t going to be sticking around. I’m only trying to protect myself. And others. Because trust me, they don’t want to be around when I’ve got a broken heart. It’s not a pretty sight.

  “Braedyn,” I say, keeping my voice casual, “Ashton is a nice guy and all, but there are other circumstances.”

  I’m trying to sound diplomatic without revealing too much information.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. He’s crazy about you. Absolutely crazy. He talked about you non-stop while we were at the All-Star game. I didn’t think I could bear to hear your name one more time.” She laughs.

  I try to pick my jaw off the floor. It took a lot of guts for Braedyn to tell me about Ashton’s feelings for me. A couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t even tell me he was looking for me at church.

  “He was probably just saying that,” I say, again trying to keep my voice casual.

  Braedyn tilts her head and smiles. “I don’t think so.””

  Adrenaline rushes through me. Ashton is crazy about me? Even after my I-only-want-to-be-friends-spiel? Okay. There goes another piece of my heart. Maybe I should rethink this? I like him, he likes me. How much more simple can it get?

  But no, the truth is more like this. I like him, he likes me, but he likes baseball a little more than he likes me. My heart is partial to being in one piece as opposed to being in a million and I like knowing my guy likes me more than he likes a little white ball. Even if the ball is his career. Most importantly though, my guy coming home every night is mandatory, not an option.

  “Ladies!” Randy’s voice booms. “Time to gather at the church.”

  Braedyn and I start walking toward the church.

  “I’d think twice, Allison, before I let a really nice guy like Ashton go,” Braedyn says.

  She doesn’t know how many times I’ve thought the same way. But I have to protect myself.

  Don’t I?

  CHAPTER 21

  By Wednesday, we are in a groove. We awake early, take turns showering in Ryan’s little parsonage, eat cereal and start to work.

  Braedyn and I have taken over the church for a vacation Bible school in the morning. We are teaching from the book of Exodus: Moses, Aaron and the Israelites’ flight to freedom, including frogs and a river turned to blood. The boys love those stories.

  With the help of Pastor Ryan, the guys are making repairs on the houses: roofs, sagging porches, and repairs on the interiors. Some of the houses look slightly beyond the fixer-upper stage, but the guys will do the best they can.

  Pixie is blessed with many talents. She’s mending clothes and teaching anyone who wants to learn how. She has a knack for making something out of nothing, so the little shacks now have some clever, fun décor which may not seem important, but if a knick-knack brings a smile, then it’s all good.

  It’s about ten-thirty and Braedyn and I have given the children a few minutes to play outside. I go with them while she prepares our next craft.

  Their game of tag has them running and laughing, making good use of the grassy side yard of the church. Branches from nearby trees sway in the slow breeze. The children wipe sweat from their foreheads oblivious to the humidity. Hot weather won’t dampen their spirits or interrupt their game.

  Now, Ashton is walking toward us, hat on backwards, smiling full force. I guess it’s been a couple of days since he shaved and the stubble on his face gives him an extremely sexy (I have to call it as I see it) and rugged appearance. He has one of the bags he brought slung over his shoulder.

  “Hi,” he says as he stops next to me.

  “Hi.”

  Ashton exudes a vibrant excitement wherever he goes. Some people are born exciting, I guess. I should be so lucky.

  But maybe I’m at least a little bit exciting, because Braedyn says he’s crazy about me. But I’d be crazy to dwell on that fact. Because he’s going to be leaving.

  We watch the kids for a couple of minutes. If I watch them I’m not watching Ashton and harming my heart.

  “You mind if I steal them for a while?” he asks, nodding toward the children.

  “Not at all,” I say, reminding myself that the word steal should be associated only with baseball, and not with the heart.

  “There’s a surprise in the bag for them. Wanna help me?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Kids!” he calls. “Over here.”

  The group files over to us. They range in age from three to ten. Their bangs are as wet with sweat just as their smiles are big with anticipation.

  “Hi,” he says, then looks at me. “Who do we have here?”

  “Names, you mean?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says.

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Starting here,” I say pointing to the little girl in front of the group. “First we have Natalie. She’s four, but almost five. She tells me at least twice every day. Then Jonathan. He’s fascinated with any creature boasting at least four legs. Then there’s Casey and Cathy who swear their favorite part of the Bible school are the snacks.”

  The children laugh.

  “When is snack time, Miss Allison?” Casey asks.

  “See? Told you,” I say to Ashton.

  “Next we have Monica, Steven, Davey, Cal. No way to tell which of them is the sweetest. Next to them are Beau, Brittany, Bonnie, Ben. All the B’s belong to each other. They’re the Suttons. Very close in age. Ten, nine, eight and seven.

  “Then we have Rico, and his older, very protective sister Alyssa. And last, but not least, we have the Anderson twins, Peyton and Pauline who even though they’re only six know more about the Bible than I do. I’m trying to recruit them to teach next year.”

  “Wow. You look like a great bunch of kids. Are you being good for Miss Allison and Miss Braedyn?”

  “Yeah!” comes the collective yell.

  Ashton looks at me for confirmation.

  “They’re the best,” I say.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Aren’t you a pitcher for the Braves?” Ben asks.

  At ten, nearly eleven, Ben’s the oldest in the group and has been a big help to Braedyn and me. His crew-cut blonde hair and blue eyes remind me of a younger Trent.

  “Sure am,” Ashton says. “Or rather, I was. I had an injury and I’m not pitching professionally right now.”

  “That bites,” Ben says.

  “Yeah. It does,” Ashton agrees. “But I’m feeling better by the day. Anybody here know how to play baseball?”

  “Yeah,” the kids say in a combined chorus of boys’ and girls’ voices, all young and enthusiastic.

  “Good. Because I have something for you guys. Who wants to play catch?”

  “Me, me, me!” The noise continues as the kids jump up and down with their hands in the air.

  “Ben, would you help me, please?” Ashton asks.

  Ben stands next to Ashton and I fade back, away from the kids.

  Braedyn has come outside and is standing on the steps. I walk slowly over to her.

  “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “Ashton has a plan,” I say.

  We watch as Ashton, with Ben’s help, hands out baseballs and gloves to all the kids. They start tossing the balls to each other, laughing. Some of them are having a hard time managing their gloves.

  “Let’s help,” I say, and Braedyn and I go over to the group.

  “Here, Natalie,” I say, squat
ting to help the cute brown-eyed little girl. “I’ll help.”

  The glove is too big for her, but there’s no way I’m going to dampen her enthusiasm. Together we manage as best as we can.

  Ashton is throwing with some of the older kids, while Braedyn and I help the little ones play as close to a game of catch as they can. We are laughing and chasing the ball more than actually throwing and catching which is okay with me. That’s how I play.

  I think I’ve found my baseball equals here.

  Pastor Ryan comes over, and Ashton hands him a ball and glove.

  “Allison,” Ryan says. “Trade places with me. You throw with Ashton and the older kids, let me throw with the little ones.”

  And with Braedyn, I want to add. A couple of times Ryan has tried to involve himself in whatever Braedyn is doing. I wonder if something is going on inside Ryan’s head? And hers? I can’t tell.

  The older kids groan whenever it’s my turn to handle the ball.

  “You need to teach Miss Allison how to throw the ball,” Ben says. “And how to catch.”

  “I’ve tried,” Ashton says. “But Miss Allison is good at other things, things we probably wouldn’t be very good at.”

  “Like what?” Ben asks.

  I brace myself for what Ashton will say. I know he will not bring up kissing. I don’t even know if he thinks I am a good kisser. But I know he is. My face flushes at my own thoughts. I’m supposed to be serving the Lord, not my too-vivid imagination.

  “She’s good at taking care of people,” the fabulous kisser says. “Miss Allison also has a big heart.”

  Not big enough to include him and all his traveling issues, apparently. Do I dare look at him?

  “My grandmother, who took care of me since I was a little kid, like you guys, died not too long ago, and Miss Allison helped me through the really sad time. She’s pretty cool. Don’t you guys forget it.”

  “So she’s a good friend,” Ben says.

  “The best,” Ashton replies.

  The green blades of grass I’m staring at are terribly uneven. Some are trampled, some stand straight. Studying them is better than studying Ashton, right now. All the nice comments he’s making about me are threatening to change my decision about being just friends. And if I look at the grass instead of Ashton, I can keep my mind from being a traitor.