“You’re probably right. I want him to make seven. Then, he’ll get the win.”
“At least he won’t get the loss,” Zack said.
“If they lose,” she put in. “Which they won’t.”
But Dan walked the next batter with no one out. The following one was the pitcher, who bunted, successfully. He was thrown out at first, but moved the first batter to second base. Now, they were at the top of the order again.
“Sac fly,” Sean said.
“Stop! You’ll jinx Dan,” Holly said, picking up a handful of popcorn.
“He can’t hear me. You’re awfully touchy. You got it bad for this guy,” Sean remarked.
“No, no. Not really. I’m just a Nighthawks fan.”
Sean smirked at her, his eyes glowing. Shit! Can’t let them know. She forced herself to keep her mouth closed. Silently, she prayed for him to hold on.
“Strike out,” she whispered. As if he had heard her, or the batter had, the man stuck out. The crowd cheered, and Holly let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Looks like you’re bringing that good-lookin’ fella some luck,” Tresa said.
“I hope so.”
A grounder to shortstop became the last out in the inning after Skip Quincy’s throw connected with Nat Owen to throw the runner out. Holly noticed the relief on Dan’s face as the camera zeroed in on the pitcher walking off the mound.
The Nighthawks didn’t score in the bottom of the inning. Neither team scored in the sixth inning, leaving the three-to-one lead for the Hawk’s untouched. Holly’s stomach knotted as Dan took the mound for the top of the seventh inning.
“You were right, missy, when you said he’d make it to the seventh. Let’s see if he can hang in for the whole inning,” Zack said, popping the top on a can of beer.
Holly chewed a nail as the ’Jays batter walked to the plate. Dan nodded at Matt and went into his wind up. The pitch was called a ball. Two more wind ups, two more misses, for three balls and no strikes.
She held her breath.
“What do you think?” Sean glanced at her.
She shook her head. “No guess.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
The loud crack of the bat meeting the ball rang in her ears. The camera followed the white circle soaring through the sky. It headed out to center field. Chet Candelaria ran on tiptoe, backwards. The camera close-up showed him keeping his eye on the ball hurtling toward him. Holly sucked in a breath and held it. Thwack! It hit his glove, and he held onto it!
A sigh went up in the Hatch’s den while a cheer reverberated through the stadium.
“One down. Two to go,” Holly said, aloud to herself.
“A big two,” Sean pointed out.
She glared at him for a moment. Then, Rawley Banner came up to bat.
“You can kiss Mr. Pretty Face goodbye, missy,” Zack said.
“Her name is Carrie,” Tresa said.
“We’ll see.” Holly narrowed her eyes and studied the close-up of Dan’s face. He squinted at Matt and shook his head. Twice more. Then, he nodded. The new slider! He’s trying the new slider on this guy! Oh, Dan, is that a good idea?
Her heartbeat doubled, her gaze glued to the screen. He went into his wind-up then hurled the ball. The big man took a cut and missed. The next pitch was called a ball. Again, Dan shrugged off Matt’s signs. She knew he was determined to get this guy out with the slider. He drew back then threw. Banner swung as if his life depended on it. It was a foul tip. Matt reached up, fast, like lightning, and caught the ball then tagged Rawley.
“Yer out!” the umpire said.
That was it! The top of the inning was over. Holly clapped and jumped up and down. The pinch hitter in the on-deck circle signaled that Dan was being replaced by a reliever in the eighth. The cheering was deafening. Dan was practically thrown out of the dugout by his teammates to take a bow.
The camera zeroed in on him as he stepped out onto the field and raised his cap. He gave a brief smile and winked. Holly thought she’d die. Was that meant for her? She never doubted it for a second.
Dazzled, she couldn’t stop grinning. Figueroa was taken out in the eighth as well. The closers did their jobs, as there was no more scoring by either team. The Nighthawks won the first game in the playoffs, three to one. Holly danced around the room.
She went to her cell to call him or text him, but stopped short. It was a burner to use to receive calls and make local ones. She didn’t have any of the numbers on her regular phone. She had no way to reach Dan. Sadness washed over her. Tears stung at the backs of her eyes. Sharing this victory would have been so sweet. But she wasn’t Holly Merrill anymore. She was Carrie Thomas, a total stranger to Dan Alexander. Even if she had his number, he’d never answer. After all, who was Carrie Thomas to him? No one.
* * * *
Cal Crawley met his team in the locker room. “Don’t let this go to your head. We have a long road ahead. This is just the first game. So, no off-the-wall celebrating, okay? I need you all sharp tomorrow, not hung over.”
Mumblings of agreement met with a smile on the Coach’s face.
“Go out to a good dinner. Plenty of protein. Steak. Burgers. One beer. In bed by ten. That’s it. Good game today. Let’s do the same tomorrow.”
When his manager left, Dan stripped off his uniform and hit the showers. Matt had the one next to him.
“Going to the Club tonight?” Matt asked.
“Nah. Can’t drink. I’m too tired to dance. Don’t want to pick up anyone. How about Freddie’s?”
“Okay. Meet you outside.”
Dan scrubbed the dust and sweat from his body then put on a white shirt, blue tie, khakis, and navy sports jacket. Determined to ignore his aching heart, he slapped on a little aftershave, slipped his feet into loafers, and headed for the door. Was Holly watching? Did she see me wink? That was for her. Or is she already living a different life—dating someone new?
Lost in thought, he was startled when his friend clapped him on the shoulder. The men got in separate cars and pulled into Freddie’s parking lot. Tommy and his brother, Mario, cheered when the pitcher and catcher came through the door.
Dan grinned. Winning the first playoff game was powerful. It set the tone for the series. Winning the second would reinforce the momentum and swing the tide and good fortune in their direction. He was relieved he didn’t have to pitch the second game. The pressure was on. Chip Sanderson was pitching tomorrow. They had a good chance to bring that one home too. The ’Hawks had a shot at the World Series.
“Table for five,” Matt said.
“Five?”
“Yeah. Skip, Jake, and Nat are coming.” Dan said.
“What about Bobby?”
“His mom is making a big dinner. His family’s visiting.”
“Maybe we should have gone there,” Matt said, chuckling.
“She probably would have invited us. But it’s family, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Dan’s parents lived too far away to be in on a celebration with him. He’d never asked Matt about his family, and his friend had never brought them up. Dan figured it was a good idea to stay away from that subject, as Matt’s face clouded up whenever the pitcher made a reference to his friend’s home.
The two men ordered steaks and a draft beer each. Before the waiter finished writing the order, Skip, Nat, and Jake called to them from the door, heading for the table.
“You sure shut down that asshole, Banner,” Jake said to Dan.
“Yeah,” Matt said. “Even though using your slider was a bad idea.”
“I know it’s new. But I needed something. An edge with him.”
The beer arrived and toasts were made. The other men ordered steaks as well.
“If you’d a missed that foul tip, we would’ve been in deep shit,” Dan said. “Toast to Matt. Best catcher in the league.”
“Here, here,” Nat said, raising his stein.
While his teammates deconstructed the g
ame, Dan sat back, listening and watching. He’d be a spectator for the rest of the series, unless Crawley needed him to close—not something he normally did. But he’d believed that anyone could do it, if necessary. The best closers on the team might argue with that opinion.
Sitting on the sidelines, watching the team out there staying alert, working hard to win, wasn’t easy. He’d always wanted to be in the middle of things. But now, without Holly, it would be even harder. His mind strayed to thoughts of her. It made him crazy not knowing where she was, if she was safe, if she was happy. And if she was seeing another guy.
Their food arrived. Thick steaks, done just the way they liked them, baked potatoes, dripping with butter, and crisp green beans. A big bowl of salad with gorgonzola cheese crumbled on top was for the table to share, compliments of Tommy.
As he watched his friends eat, Dan sliced off a piece of meat. How great it would’ve been to have Holly there, sharing the victory with him. He sighed.
“Thinking about Holly?” Matt asked.
Dan nodded, his mouth full.
“I bet she watched.”
“What fan wouldn’t? What an awesome game!” Nat said, digging into his potato with his fork.
Bud Magee entered the restaurant and bellied up to the bar.
Dan grabbed his beer and moseyed over. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to congratulate the boys and have a quick one,” he said, ordering a draft.
“Heard from Holly?” Dan tried to sound casual, but didn’t succeed.
“Nope. You?”
Dan shook his head.
“I’m sure you will. You will,” Bud said, patting him on the back. “Love the way you buried the Bluejays.”
“Three to one victory isn’t exactly a burial, Bud.”
“It is to me!”
The men relived the more exciting plays while Bud whittled his brew down to nothing. He stopped at the table for a few moments to congratulate the team, but Dan remained at the bar. He hadn’t tried calling Holly’s cell. A smile broke out on his face. Maybe she still had that one? Maybe she’d answer or maybe she’d see a text. He sent a text first then dialed. He got a recording.
“This is Holly. I can’t answer the phone now, so please leave a message.”
His grin sagged into a frown. Nope, no way to contact her. A pain shot through his heart. Maybe he’d never hear from her again. Maybe he’d better move on.
Chapter Sixteen
Holly glued herself to the television when she wasn’t working. The playoff games went back and forth. The Bluejays won the second and third games. The Nighthawks rallied to victory in game four. Five was up for grabs. If the ’Hawks won, they’d be heading to the World Series.
Game five was a night game in Boston. The Hatch family ate a quick dinner then settled in front of the television. On only five day’s rest, Dan was pitching. Holly’s heart thudded faster and faster with each inning. The score was one-nothing, on a Jake Lawrence homer. This game was for the title, and the pressure was enormous.
When the camera zoomed in, Holly noticed the lines in Dan’s face and that he kept swiping at the sweat on his forehead. Tension was so high, it made her skin tingle. Dan appeared to be accepting Matt’s signs and firing off the right pitches.
If the first game was a pitcher’s duel, this one was even more so. The ball’s kept coming in faster and faster. Dan threw his first one hundred mile-an-hour fastball. He kept blowing ’em by the batters, even Rawley Banner.
But the Nighthawks were no better at hitting. Strike-outs, ground-outs to alert fielders, and an occasional long ball to the outfield plucked out of the air by an alert outfielder. Except for Jake, no one got good wood on the ball. Holly chewed a nail as Dan came up to bat. He squared around to bunt the first pitch, but backed off in time to have it called a ball. Looking cool, he took two more balls. Holly guessed he was in knots inside. Batting always made him nervous.
The do-or-die pitch was right over the plate, and Dan swung away. He hit a blooper over the head of the short stop and ran like Hell. His foot touched the bag a split second before the ball arrived. His was the first single of the game. The fans went wild, waving towels, banners, caps, and screaming.
Holly leapt up cheering. She raised her arms and danced around the room. His hit started a rally, with Nat Owen getting a base hit on a grounder. Skip lined out to the pitcher. Bobby walked, loading the bases, and Jake stepped up to the plate.
She watched his body language. He was solid, confident. And sure enough, the pitcher goofed, sending one high and down the middle, exactly where Jake liked his pitches. He put it away for a grand slam homerun!
Sean Hatch threw popcorn in the air, Holly bounced around the room like a jack rabbit, and even Tresa was clapping. With a five to nothing lead, the ’Hawks didn’t need Dan, so he was relieved by Moose Macafee, ace reliever and closer for the Nighthawks.
The Bluejays managed to score one run in the eighth, but the game was over in the ninth when their last batter flied out to center field. Joy whipped through Holly. The Nighthawks were going to the World Series! Happiness mixed with the pain of not being able to talk to Dan. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, celebrate with him, and bed him. But none of that would happen, so she had to be thankful for the interview he gave to the media.
Grinning like an ape, cap off, hair soaking wet, he spoke to the interviewer.
“So, Dan, how does it feel to be going to the World Series?”
“Awesome, Sandy.”
“Did you expect to win?”
“I never expect anything. But with this incredible team behind me, I couldn’t lose.”
“What about your new slider?”
“Worked like a charm.”
“What are you going to do to celebrate?”
“Rest up. I’m on tap for the first game of the series.”
“No partying? That’s hard to believe.”
Dan laughed and looked down at his hands. “Well, maybe. A little.”
“Anyone special joining your party?”
The pitcher looked up at the camera, and the smile left his face. “Nope. Just the guys. Can I send a message to someone?”
“Sure, if it’s PG, Dan. Go ahead.”
“Holly, baby, this game was for you.” He blew a kiss.
Holly teared up.
“See? I told you,” Sean said. “He has a girlfriend. Named Holly. Sorry, Carrie. Better luck next time.”
She blinked the water away and nodded at Sean.
“I’m not surprised,” Tresa put in. “Guy who looks like that and can throw the ball that fast. He’s a winner.”
Joy seeped out of her like air from a punctured tire. Not telling them she was the Holly he’d mentioned was the hardest thing she’d done in months. She bit her lip, placed her hand over her mouth, and swallowed the words she wanted to share. She wasn’t nobody. She was somebody. She was Dan’s girl, wasn’t she?
Dan was the best. Holly kept quiet. She was a loser. A big loser. Though it warmed her heart that he’d dedicated the game to her, how long would that last? How much longer would she have to wait.
Overcome, she left the room and ran up the stairs, into her room, and slammed the door shut. She didn’t care what the Hatch’s thought. Let them wonder what’s wrong with her. Let them think Sean had pissed her off.
She’d done nothing but pay for her mistake with Flash Kincaid for the past two years. Would her punishment never end? The selfish, thoughtless, reckless girl that she had been was gone. She threw herself down on her bed, lying on her stomach, her head turned to rest on her pillow. Someday, this would be behind her. She picked up her new cell and dialed.
“Is this an emergency?” Barb Finn asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“Did Al tell you about a promise he made to me?”
“Promise?”
“Please call him. He owes me this.”
* * * *
&nbs
p; It wasn’t easy to get Mary to give her the time off. Holly had been working hard and had made a place for herself in Mary’s business. She’d learned how to bake bread, croissants, and Danish. She lived closest to the shop, so she was given the key and expected to open up at five thirty and get things started.
But on this day, Mary had agreed to take over. As she boarded the bus, she recalled their conversation.
“I know you can’t tell me where you’re going or why. Tresa told me that. Told me never to ask you a lot of questions. I’m curious, but I’m not going to go against what she said. You’ve done a great job at the Bread and Butter. I’m grateful. Not easy to find someone as good as you for what I can pay. So, go ahead. I guess it’s important. See you in two days.”
The bus doors closed, and the driver put it in gear. As it pulled away, Holly gazed out the window. The farms they passed provided a beautiful view. Happiness flowed through her. For the first time in months, she was truly happy. She was heading for the World Series. She’d see Dan pitch the first game. Al Housman had pulled some strings and gotten the ticket Dan had left her switched for a box seat, between home plate and first base. She’d have a direct view of her man. She couldn’t stop smiling.
She arrived early. The box office wasn’t open yet, but she spied Bud Magee striding up the walk to the service entrance.
“Bud!” she called.
He turned. “Holly? Is that really you?”
She flew at him, and he enveloped her in a big hug.
“Great to see you, but what are you doing here?’
“When he got the conviction, the D. A. promised me I could come, if the Nighthawks were playing.”
“Dan’s pitching today.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“He’s gonna be pumped to know you’re in the stands.”
“Please don’t tell anyone else.”
“Don’t you have a body guard with you?”
She shook her head. “Only money for one ticket in the budget.”
Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 20
