Bishop's Run

by B. D. Gates

  On a Thursday evening after practice, Coach Biggs stopped me as I was leaving the field.

  "Baxter, we need to talk."

  I could only imagine why. I'd been playing well, okay, fairly well, through the season, getting hits more often than not, fielding with good results. Granted, I wasn't playing as well as I had at the beginning of the season, during the practice games, but I had my reasons, or rather, my reason. Nothing in my life was as good as it had once been a few short weeks ago.

  "Baxter, I don't make it my business to stick my nose in my players' lives, or in my employees' lives for that matter, but I've noticed that a certain aspect, component, of your life is missing, and has been for a while now, and that seems to have impacted your life in all areas."

  What?

  Coach Biggs must have read the confusion on my face.

  "What's happened to Tess?"

  I dropped my gaze, shook my head. I couldn't talk about it, especially with Biggs.

  "I've seen you, Baxter, you spend your time in the outfield looking up in the stands. When we're 'at home,' you're looking over at the track. You're looking for someone, and that someone is Tess. I thought it would get better, or that whatever's occurred between you two would be resolved, but that hasn't happened."

  I nodded. It hadn't gotten better, Tess had 'resolved' our situation, and I'd just learned to manage my life around the pain.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  I shook my head. Not unless you had a time machine and I could go back to just before I blew up my life, I thought.

  "Baxter, I'm sorry, I really am."

  "Yeah. Thanks, Coach."

  "If you can think of anything I can do to help, would you let me know?"

  I nodded. Coach clapped her hand on my shoulder, giving me a little shake before letting me go, then walked off towards the gate, and Carole, who was waiting for her.

  "Were we right?" Carole asked.

  "Yep."

  "Anything we can do?"

  "Not right now. But the offer is out there."

  41

  Penny had been carrying her camera to some of the practices and games, snapping shots of the teams in action and on the bench. She was working on a portfolio she'd entitled "The Girls of Softball," taking care to include each team member while shooting, and she was happy with the results. Her portfolio was filling up nicely, showing all the emotions of the team as they played through the season.

  Baxter had really pissed her off that night of the cookout, wanting to know why she was working for someone else when she should have her own studio, and she was right, but only to a point. Penny had been working for Sallie for eight years, and she was a better photographer than Sallie. Well, maybe not better, because they were different.

  Sallie was good at taking posed shots of families, the kind you see in everyone's homes, with two, and sometimes three or more, generations of a family in a group photo. Penny, on the other hand, preferred natural settings and scenes, action shots, photos that told stories. Where Sallie provided a service, Penny took photos as art, and she was good, but there was little money in it unless you could sell them, enough of them to pay the bills every month, and that was the hard part. Unless your shots were chosen to be shown at an art gallery, where they could be sold, or included in a magazine, where you were paid for their use, well...that's why she still worked for Sallie. Better to let someone else cover the overhead, leaving her to practice her art in her off hours.

  A southeastern monthly magazine was holding a contest, 'Southern Fun,' and Penny was going to enter photos of the team. One more week and she'd be sending off the two best of them in hopes of winning the grand prize of ten thousand dollars, the biggest payoff she'd ever seen in a photo contest. She'd won a few in the past, the largest netting her a thousand dollars for three wildlife photos.

  Seeing Tess at Lin's and telling her that Baxter missed her, Penny hoped to correct the imbalance in her karma caused by the fight she'd had with Baxter, which had, in turn, led to Baxter's and Tess's argument. After all, she needed all the good luck she could get.

  42

  Tess had the dream again. The one of Bishop making love to her. It was so real, feeling Bishop's hands on her, the heat of her mouth, the scent and the softness of her skin, the contrasting hardness of the muscles underneath. The dream had taken Tess to the brink, leaving her to wake up hot with desire. She was still asleep enough that she finished it herself, knowing that if she didn't, she would be in an ill fit all day.

  Her imagination picked up where her dreams left off, and she'd conjured the figment of Bishop into her bed to take her the rest of the way. Her hand made its way into the softness between her legs, spreading the wetness so that her fingers slipped easily around her swollen clit and just inside while she imagined kissing Bishop, being kissed by Bishop, imagined her hand was Bishop's as she brought herself to orgasm, hot, sweating, coming again and again until she felt the endorphins rushing in to take the place of her longing, while the tears streaked down her cheeks.

  Afterward, she showered and dressed for work, her mind still on the girl she loved. It was always on her, but this time she thought about her want for Bishop to kiss her, make love to her. She still had no idea if Bishop felt the same way, if she'd ever even considered it.

  Penny had told her that Bishop--Baxter, missed her, but that was all. She still didn't have the answers to the questions that she'd had from the beginning. What if she was alone in this? What if she was the only one in love here? What then?

  43

  We were eight weeks into the regular season, still a half-game ahead in the standings, with the Dental Drillers on our heels. I was performing better, Coach had been right about getting experience with the different pitchers. I was getting hits and had made some good plays, catching a few 'unreachable' hits and turning plays that stalled the other teams, stamping out their hopes for starting any rallies that would put us on the defensive.

  Penny and I had been spending more time together. As the weather warmed, we'd been canoeing out on the lake, drifting out into the waters but close to the shore after we'd paddled through the small opening down from her dock, that opening leading to the larger part of Lake Treadwell, dark blue and deep. Not quite a cabin cruiser on the Intracoastal Waterway, but satisfying to me.

  Penny didn't like the idea of my leaving Rosie and Sophie alone so much, insisting that I bring them, on occasion, to the trailer when I stayed overnight. Joey didn't mind, and the girls were surprised when the cat actually wanted to be near them. All three adventured together, rambling down around the shoreline or up in the woods, always in sight or close by, and always worn out by bedtime.

  Our evenings and nights were quiet sometimes, sitting together in the oversized Adirondack chair, with just the sound of the woods providing the background music, while we talked about anything and everything, and sometimes not even speaking at all. Some nights, members of the various softball teams would join us, drinking around the fire pit, eating from the grill that covered a part of it--hot dogs, hamburgers, the occasional steak.

  Time passed, but it was time well spent.

  Penny and I had gotten very comfortable, grown very easy with each other. If she had any more qualms about who I 'really' was, she wasn't sharing them with me. She'd not mentioned Tess since that night at dinner and I think she knew that I was getting past not having her in my life any more.

  Time does heal all wounds, as they say.

  I had given up on seeing Tess again, she rarely entered my thoughts any more. Sometimes, out on the highway or on a street in town, I would pass a Crown Vic and scan the insides for a glimpse at the driver. Even that had disappeared over time.

  Sometimes, though, I still dreamed of her.

  The scent of Tess' perfume was in the room with me, as if she was here. I'd been dreaming of her, of making love to her. Startlingly real, it had left me hot and unfulfilled, and unsettled. In it, I professed my love for her over and over a
s I kissed her, touched her, the words ringing in my ears as the dream disappeared from view.

  This was new to me, and I found myself wondering if there was more to what Tess meant to me than I had been willing to admit. It was a startling realization, that I loved her. And, unless something drastically changed, I would never get to tell her.

  44

  One Saturday afternoon, after I'd finished with my weekend duties at the clinic, Penny took me out to meet her 'Crazy Aunt Molly.' We drove out of town in her MGB, hell-bent as always, until there was nothing but fields, woods, and the rare 'general' store, each an oasis for milk, cigarettes, eggs, and gas, all fairly expensive, but worth the money, since driving into town would have cost even more in gas and time.

  Aunt Molly had a small farm where she raised chickens and goats, as well as several dogs and cats, all of which were technically free-range, allowed to roam around the small house located at the end of a very bumpy dirt drive. As we drove up, I felt as if I'd been sent back in time to the 1930s, looking at the old gingerbread house sorely in need of painting, with various rusted-out farm implements now converted to full planters, their flowers offering the only color against the slate-gray wood of the house and porch.

  "Oh, there's my girl, there's my Lucky Penny!" exclaimed a voice from around the corner of the house as we climbed up out of the low-slung car. "Billie, come on, she's here, put all that down and come see!"

  I watched as a slender older woman in a faded belted A-line dress came around the house, dogs and cats circling around her as they tried to figure out where she was going. I thought she was probably in her fifties, with formerly blond, now silver hair pulled back in a braid that ran halfway down her back. The bone structure of a beautiful woman was still there, easily, though her skin was somewhat wrinkled and tanned from the sun. Her face held a smile that I recognized as Penny's, and her eyes were the same light brown. If the genes were any indication, Penny would be beautiful in her older age as well.

  A loud bang and a 'Dammit!' came around the corner with Aunt Molly.

  "Billie, leave it the hell alone and come on!" Aunt Molly yelled at the swearer. "Oh, come here, you, and give your crazy Aunt Molly a hug!" she called to Penny. A happily-smiling Penny ran to the woman and wrapped her arms around her waist, both grabbing onto each other and hugging tight.

  "Aunt Molly, I want you to meet a friend of mine," said Penny, as she started to make introductions.

  "Wait a minute," Aunt Molly said, holding up her hand, smiling at me. "Billie, get the hell out here!" she fondly admonished the lagging Billie.

  In a matter of a few seconds, Billie came around the corner. Wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt, both now faded from decades of washings, gray hair in a crew-cut, wire-framed glasses magnifying hazel eyes, and old, beat-up dingo boots, Billie was a bona fide lesbian straight out of the '70s.

  I smiled. I suddenly had an idea as to why Aunt Molly might be considered 'crazy.'

  Penny looked over at me and smiled. I was even more sure.

  Billie joined us, smiling and nodding, and Penny went on with the introductions, with 'hellos,' 'nice to meet you's' and handshakes all around. Aunt Molly still had her arm around Penny, not willing to let her go.

  "So, are you two hungry? I've got a roast in the oven, I hope you brought your appetites," said Molly.

  "Oh, one of your famous roasts?" asked Penny. "Oh, Baxter, you're in luck. Aunt Molly makes a roast that just melts in your mouth."

  Billie nodded in agreement. "And snap beans and potatoes from the garden. Oh, and biscuits. And chocolate cake for dessert."

  Billie seemed to be very glad for the company. This was obviously a rare occasion, to have such a spread.

  "I can't wait!" exclaimed Penny.

  "Me, either," said Billie, "But I need a little help, first," she said, looking at me.

  "Okay," I said, hesitantly, not knowing what I was volunteering for.

  "The flywheel is out on the water pump." Aunt Molly explained to us. "Locked up last night, so we don't have any running water in the house."

  "I've tried to break it loose all morning, it's got me cussin'," said Billie. "One good hit is all it needs."

  I nodded. I could do that, I thought.

  "So, you two go see what you can do, and Penny and I will go set the table and put out the lunch," Molly directed, as she turned Penny, still holding her tight, towards the house.

  Billie and I headed for the pump house while Penny and Molly made their way to the kitchen.

  Once inside the little shed, Billie handed me a big, long-handled monkey wrench.

  "Tighten it down on that big nut there,"she instructed.

  I attached the wrench, screwed it down tight.

  "I've already sprayed it with lube so, if you hit it just right, it should pop loose," Billie informed me as she handed me a heavy-headed sledge hammer.

  I nodded, then lined up to strike the wrench. I gave it a good, hard chop with the sledge and the wrench spun down, the wheel giving a jerk as it broke free.

  "Ah, that's it, that done it," said Billie. "Let's get this off and check the bearings."

  Billie took over from there and I stepped back, leaned against the pump house wall to get out of her way.

  "So, you known Penny long?" Billie asked.

  "Um, well, a little over three months," I answered. "We both play softball for Dr. Biggs' team." I added.

  "Penny does love her softball," admitted Billie. "She still got a good eye?"

  "And a killer swing," I confirmed, though not intending the pun.

  "I tell ya, she could hit from the time she was a little thing. Her daddy would bring her out here and we'd pitch that damn ball to her all day long, until it got so dark we couldn't see." Billie laughed, remembering. "Her daddy is Molly's little brother," she explained. "He'd bring her out here to get them both away from that horror he married."

  I nodded. Penny had told me that she and her mother didn't get along. She hadn't offered up any other details about their relationship.

  "Of course, spending any time out here just made it worse for them when they got home, but there was no way Ernie was going to stop seeing Molly and me, no matter what that spawn of Satan had to say about it. You know, it always surprises me how hateful some so-called 'religious' people can be. Can't tolerate anything that doesn't look, talk and act just like them, so they do their best to tear them down, have them 'cast out' of anything and everything they can. "

  I nodded. I'd run into a few people like that myself, in my time. I'd picked my battles, depending on the circumstances, learning that there were things not worth the fight, in trying to stay where I was not welcome, unless it was something I really wanted to do, somewhere I wanted to go. I know, though, that Molly and Billie had had a much harder time of it, coming of age in a darker time in America. And I wondered if Penny's mother had been a reason for Molly and Billie to live so far out of Tenley.

  "So, three months. Huh. Well, I'll tell ya, she must think something of you, she's never brought any one else out here."

  Oh.

  Wow.

  Billie had pulled the flywheel off of the pump, checking for fractures, anything that would stop it from turning.

  "Ah, there it is," she said, as she pulled a piece of metal out of the shaft. "Busted bearing."

  I nodded. I was still thinking about being here with Penny. Billie's comment had really surprised me.

  I walked with Billie to a small outbuilding a few yards from the pump house. She pulled a Mason jar from a shelf and poured out some ball bearings, put them in her pocket, and grabbed a jar of grease to pack them with before replacing them in the flywheel housing.

  "So, how's the season going?" asked Billie.

  I spent the next few minutes giving her an update on the standings and the season in general as we walked back to the pump house to finish the job. Billie packed each ball with grease as she laid them in, then replaced the flywheel, examining the condition and tautness of the
belt as she tightened it into place.

  "Yeah, I know Sharon, known her for a good while," offered Billie, regarding Dr. Biggs. "She's a good woman, has a good practice. We played ball together for a season, last one I played, hell, I was forty at the time, and she was a young 'un, new around here, was just setting up her practice. She loved softball, but I guess you know that, though, playing for her."

  "I work for her, too."

  "Well, good gawd, you are a lucky so-and-so, aren't you," Billie declared. "You've got two good women in your life. You can't beat that with a stick. Or, in your case, a bat," she said, laughing.

  I laughed along with her as I considered it.

  Nope, you couldn't.

  45

  Inside the house, Molly and Penny were busy setting out the plates, silverware, and glasses. Molly didn't have much, but what she had was beautiful and well-cared for. As they worked, they chatted.

  "So, my little Penny, tell me how you're doing, what you've been up to."

  Penny told Molly about softball, how the team was doing, and that she'd entered the photo contest, sending in two pictures. The first was of Tracey sliding into third, with the line judge staring at the base, the third-base player waiting on the ball, the photo freezing it in mid-air, nearly in her glove, while the Pride stood against the dugout rail behind them, the tension on their faces as they watched the play happen.

  The second, taken in the same game, of Baxter at bat, watching the ball as she 'swung away', the faces of the opposing team in their dugout in the background, looking towards the outfield, distressed by the ball in flight. Penny had felt really good about them both, but thought that the pic of Baxter would be the one that really could win it for her since, to her, it told a more complete story.

  Molly smiled, glancing at Penny while the young girl described the photo's composition. She knew that it wasn't just the photo that Penny thought was a winner. The girl was obviously smitten with Baxter.