With a short laugh, Pete closed the distance between them. “I’ve been walking to the chapel around the corner from the campus for services on Sunday mornings. Do you want to meet for breakfast and go over together before the game?”
Bennett shoved the ball back into his pocket. Trust Pete to bring up church. “Nah. You go on without me. I like to sleep in on Sunday mornings.”
“You sure?” Pete’s face twisted into the same look Aaron Rowley had always worn when Bennett tried to play sick on Sunday mornings. Bennett disliked the expression even more coming from his friend. “Now that we’re settled in here on campus, it would do us good to go—to feel like we’re part of a church family.”
“Libby going?”
Pete shrugged. “I haven’t asked her yet, but I’m sure she will. I don’t know why she wouldn’t.”
“Well . . .” Bennett stuck out his jaw and folded his arms over his chest. “I’d rather sleep. Gotta get up early for my classes all week long, and gotta get up early Saturday to get to my job.” He’d been hired by the school’s groundskeeper to help with yard maintenance. After the man found out Bennett had done similar chores at the orphans’ school, he’d hired him on the spot. Apparently a lot of the students at the college had never lifted a shovel or weeded a garden—spoiled namby-pambies. “I don’t wanna get up early my only day off.”
Pete didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “All right, but when we go home for Matt’s wedding, Aaron and Isabelle will expect you to go to church with them before we head back Sunday afternoon.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“It’ll be good to see them.” Pete seemed to drift off somewhere; he didn’t react to Bennett’s derisive tone. “I’m looking forward to a weekend at home.”
Both Pete and Libby called the orphans’ school home, but Bennett never used the term. He said, the school or where I live, but not home. Someday—when he settled down, got married, maybe had a kid or two—he’d call the place he shared with his family “home.” But he wouldn’t squander a word like that on anything less than a place of his choosing.
“Well, the wedding’s still two weeks away, and we’ve got plenty to do before then . . . including whomping those Beta Theta Pi guys in Sunday’s baseball game!” Bennett squinted one eye at Pete. “Sun’s not quite down. Wanna try a few more throws? Just to make sure you’re good and limbered up for a full game?”
“I’d like to, but I’ve got an assignment I—”
“Never mind.” Bennett drew the words out into a groan, but he grinned while he said it. “I figure you’ll do just fine in the game. In case I don’t see you beforehand, meet us right here in the side yard at one on Sunday. We’ll skunk ’em this time. Night, Pete!”
Bennett took off at a trot toward the men’s dormitory. He hoped a couple of the guys were still lounging in the common room. He wanted to let them know he’d found their team a dandy pitcher.
Pete hop-skipped, adding a little jump on his good leg between steps, down the hallway that led to the classrooms. He needed a few minutes alone with his professor. Pastor Hines always came in early in case one of his students had questions or concerns, so Pete wasn’t worried he’d miss the teacher. But he did want to beat all of the other Bible students to the room.
In the back of his mind, he replayed the scene he’d witnessed when he’d entered the common room of Libby’s dormitory yesterday evening. A group of young ladies sat in a row in front of the window, holding a magazine to catch the light. By their pink cheeks and occasional bursts of laughter, which they quickly muffled with their hands over their mouths, it was obvious something in the magazine had piqued their interest. Their intrigue appeared to go beyond curiosity or entertainment to an embarrassed excitement, which led him to believe whatever they were viewing was not wholesome. He’d seen Bennett and a couple other fellows at the orphans’ school act in the same snickering, flush-faced way when viewing the pages advertising women’s undergarments in the Sears catalog.
When he’d returned to Landry Hall, he’d dug through the basket of magazines their resident director left in the common room for the students’ use. In the very bottom, beneath Harper’s Magazine, Top-Notch Magazine, and three copies of various issues of The Windsor, he’d located a publication that looked similar to the one the girls had been reading. He’d taken it to his room and laid it flat on the bed to read. Between the covers, he’d found what he surmised the girls had seemed so enamored with—a rather risqué story about a young movie starlet and her older, caddish director.
The description of pounding hearts, feverish desires, and furtive meetings in dark corners where the man and woman allowed their lips to explore one another’s mouths left Pete feeling uncomfortable. Twice, while reading, he’d been compelled to glance around the room to be certain no one knew what he was doing. Would he have felt so uneasy if the reading material were wholesome? Surely stories like that could turn young women toward impure thought.
By the time he’d returned the magazine to the basket—once again, clear at the bottom, but upside-down—he believed he’d found the subject for his assignment in Pastor Hines’s class.
Of course, Pastor Hines had to approve it. So before he went any further, he wanted the man’s opinion.
The classroom door stood open, and Pete glimpsed the silver-haired professor seated at his desk. The man’s wire spectacles rested on the end of his nose, and he frowned at a stack of papers. Pete tapped lightly on the doorframe. The man looked up, and a smile immediately cleared the scowl from his face. He removed his glasses with one hand and gestured Pete forward with the other.
“Mr. Leidig.” Pastor Hines pointed to a front-row desk. “Come in and sit.”
Pete limped forward and slid into the seat. He gave his teacher an apologetic look. “Am I disturbing you?”
The man shook his head. “No, no, I don’t mind setting these aside.” With a grimace, he slapped the stack of pages to the corner of his desk. “Obviously I didn’t do a sufficient job in my lecture on following the Ten Commandments. These essays—” He shook his head and blew out a noisy breath. “Appalling.” Then he leaned back in his chair. “But that isn’t your concern. With what can I assist you, Mr. Leidig?”
Pete rested his elbows on the desk and briefly described the scene he’d witnessed in the women’s common room. “I located a similar magazine and looked inside, and there was a rather unsavory story. . . .” Pastor Hines’s eyebrows drew down until they formed a distinct V between his eyes. Pete’s face felt hot. He stammered on. “I thought perhaps the story would make a suitable subject for our assignment on moral decline since it included—”
The teacher waved his hand. “Don’t bother.”
Pete sagged in the chair. “This isn’t something worth pursuing?”
“On the contrary, there’s no need for you to explain. I already know the type of story you reference, and it’s certainly unsuitable.” Pastor Hines pursed his lips in distaste. “Disgraceful, is what it is. Stories written for the sole purpose of inducing titillation.”
So Petey’s initial instincts when he’d seen the girls’ actions had been right. The realization increased his confidence in his abilities to be a good spiritual leader.
Pastor Hines continued in a disparaging tone. “The stories are, unfortunately, quite popular with women of all ages, but most particularly with the younger set.” He sighed. “I can’t help but believe it leads impressionable young women into impure thought, not to mention gives them an unrealistic expectation of the relationship between a man and a woman.”
Shaking his head, the professor clicked his tongue on his teeth. “This is precisely the kind of battle that must be warred—and won! Young women caught up in these romanticized tales could very well begin seeking a relationship based on only . . . er . . . physical attraction—” the man’s jowls mottled red—“rather than seeking a God-centered, well-grounded man who will be a moral leader for his household.”
Pete sat
up eagerly. “So this would meet the requirements for the assignment?”
“Yes, Mr. Leidig. Most certainly.” Pastor Hines rose and rounded the desk. “And I wish you much success in your attempts to dissuade magazine editors from printing such filth.” His brow crinkled for a moment, his piercing eyes pinned on Pete’s face. “Mr. Leidig, in addition to reasoning with magazine editors, do you have other plans to help bring an end to these types of writings?”
Pete pushed to his feet and stood beside the desk with one hand braced on the smooth top. “Not yet, sir. I wanted to get your approval before I began planning.”
“That’s fine,” the man replied. “Knowing what you’ll tackle is enough for today. But keep in mind that when it comes to winning a war, success is more certain with multiple directions of attack.”
Pete nodded slowly. Although he’d read many newspaper accounts about the battles going on overseas, he hadn’t paid attention to military strategy. But his teacher’s words made sense. If the attack came solely from one direction, then the enemy would have many directions in which to flee. He’d need to plan attacks from several different directions to make the greatest impact.
“I’ll be in thought and prayer concerning the best way to end the printing of these stories.” Pete stuck out his hand, and Pastor Hines took it. “Thank you, sir. You can trust I’ll do my very best on this assignment.”
His teacher smiled, giving Pete’s hand a strong shake. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Mr. Leidig.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ooh, isn’t it exciting?”
Alice-Marie was going to cut off the circulation to Libby’s hand if she didn’t let loose. She moved even closer to Libby on the blanket, making room for another girl to join them on the square of green-and-red-plaid wool thrown over the grass. “I just love watching a sporting event! I hope the Beta Theta Pi boys win!”
One could hardly call this an official sporting event, considering it took place on the grassy side yard of the Bible school rather than at a real baseball diamond. There were no bleachers on which to sit, so a few students, including Alice-Marie, had dragged out blankets and spread them on the lawn. Most spectators, however, formed a jagged line along the east side of the playing field. Already some of them were shifting restlessly, apparently tired of standing. Libby decided the players had been wise to settle on a short game of three innings only—a rematch, Bennett had called it, for his team to regain its dignity.
Libby peeled Alice-Marie’s fingers from her arm. “Beta Theta Pi? Is that the team Pete and Bennett are on?”
For a moment, Alice-Marie’s lips puckered into a pout. “No. They’re playing with a group of Delta Tau Delta boys.” With a little expulsion of breath, she snatched up her parasol and snapped it open. “And I just don’t understand. If Bennett intends to pledge Beta Theta Pi, why would he choose to play against them? Surely that will not soften them toward him. . . .”
Libby shrugged. She’d long ago given up trying to figure out Bennett’s motivations. He did whatever pleased him, regardless of another’s opinion. At times, his self-serving actions annoyed her, but other times she envied him. Bennett was the most carefree person she knew.
Alice-Marie rested the parasol handle against her left shoulder, shielding both her and Libby’s faces from the sun. “Regardless of his reasoning, I’m eager to see him play. I just know he’ll be the best on either team.”
Libby rolled her eyes. Alice-Marie’s fascination with Bennett was growing more tiresome by the hour, but she knew nothing she could say would dissuade her roommate from seeing Bennett as a knight in shining armor. However, Alice-Marie’s infatuation provided Libby with fodder for the stories she worked on between classes and late at night. She discovered writing at night, her page illuminated only by a thin band of moonlight, was the most productive time. The stories flowed so easily, they almost wrote themselves.
One group of players—attired in trousers, suspenders, and shirts with their sleeves rolled above their elbows rather than baseball uniforms—darted out onto the grass. A cheer rose as they positioned themselves at bases or out in the field. Libby scanned their faces. Few were familiar, except the pitcher, who wore a strip of white tape across the bridge of his nose. She pursed her lips in disgust. That detestable Roy.
Even without the telltale bandage marking his healing nose, she’d have known him by his curly brown hair that fell across his forehead in a roguish way. She supposed he had the looks of a storybook hero, but she’d never use him in her stories—unless she had need of a true lout.
Roy held the ball toward the audience, his grin wide. Alice-Marie patted her palms together, bouncing on her seat. Her parasol slipped sideways and bopped Libby on the temple. With a little grunt, Libby shifted to the edge of the blanket. The sun hit her full in the face, but she shielded her eyes with her hand and watched Roy throw three perfect pitches across home plate. The first batter went down without once swinging his bat.
The cheers set Libby’s teeth on edge. What did these people see in that arrogant oaf? If Bennett and Petey weren’t playing, she’d return to the dormitory where she could write in peace—it seemed the entire student body had come out to watch the game—but Petey had indicated he would be pitching. She hoped he would make Roy look like an inept bumbler.
The second batter got a hit, but it bounced right to the first baseman, who scooped it up and touched the base long before the runner reached it. More cheers chased the defeated fellow back to his team. Then Bennett stepped up to bat. Alice-Marie let out a squeal that nearly pierced Libby’s eardrum.
Libby frowned at her. “I thought you were rooting for Beta Theta Pi?”
Alice-Marie hunched her shoulders. “I couldn’t resist. Look at him, so handsome and muscular, with his hair shining like rich red satin.” She released a deep sigh.
With a soft snort, Libby turned her attention to Bennett. Alice-Marie was right about Bennett being muscular. His biceps bulged as he angled the bat over his shoulder. Bending his knees, he faced the pitcher with a look of concentration on his face.
Roy’s lips twisted into a sneer. He smacked the ball into his mitt and planted his weight on one hip. “Well, well, well, look who’s up. It’s gonna give me great pleasure to strike you out, Martin.”
“Give it a try.” Bennett held his position, his lips barely moving as he spoke.
Roy spat on the grass and went into an elaborate windup. The onlookers broke into hoots and cheers as the ball zinged straight and true toward the plate. Bennett swung—and caught air. He stumbled and almost fell. Laughter broke across the crowd. Roy bowed to his audience, his grin cocky.
Libby wanted to run out on the field and give him a good kick in the shin. She turned to Alice-Marie. “Why do people egg him on? He’s the most obnoxious person I’ve ever seen!”
Alice-Marie twirled her parasol and hummed to herself as if Libby hadn’t spoken.
The girl on the other side of Alice-Marie leaned forward and answered. “Roy has led the basketball team to a winning season three years in a row. Even as a freshman, he scored more points than any other player in the conference.”
“So that makes him immune from acting like a decent human being?”
The girl shrugged. “I suppose he believes he’s earned the right to behave however he pleases.” She glanced around, indicating the supportive throng. “Everyone else seems to feel that way, too. Or they just don’t want to be considered his enemy. He has the power to make your life miserable if he doesn’t like you.”
Libby shook her head. No one person should have that much power. She intended to pen a strongly worded editorial on that very topic at the earliest opportunity.
Bennett returned to the batting position. Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Knock off the theatrics and play ball!”
With an insolent swagger, Roy returned to the pitcher’s spot and went into another windup. This time when Bennett swung, he connected. The crack! echoed across the field, and
the ball sailed over Roy’s head. Libby let out a cry of elation, but no one else cheered. Her voice hung in the silence as everyone’s faces followed the ball like a field of sunflowers trailing the course of the sun.
The orb of white flew high, high, high against the backdrop of blue sky. Bennett dropped the bat and bounded toward first base with his focus upward, watching the ball’s progress. The center fielder scuttled in reverse, his face aimed at the sky, his mitt raised. And just as Bennett rounded second base, the ball fell directly into the center fielder’s glove. He held it over his head and jumped up and down.
The crowd went wild. Roy waved to the audience and then sauntered off the field with a grin on his face. His teammates pounded his back, leaping around as if they’d won a championship match. When Roy’s team cleared the field, the team made up of Delta Tau Delta men scurried into position. Libby’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted Petey moving toward the center of the makeshift diamond, a baseball in hand.
The loud babble of voices changed to startled gasps, whispers, and soft titters. Libby knew the spectators were looking at Petey—at his wooden leg. And making judgments about him. Alice-Marie tapped Libby’s arm. “Is this some of kind of ploy to destroy the Beta Theta Pi team’s concentration? Surely he can’t . . . can’t throw with that peg leg!”
Libby shot her roommate a stern look. “He throws with his hand.”
Someone muttered, “Is this a joke?” And another voice answered, “It’s gotta be. They’re wantin’ to get the Betas to feel sorry for him so they won’t even try to get a hit.” Someone far to Libby’s left let out a low, “Boooo!” Several others took up the cry. “Boo! Booooo!” The jeers continued, underscored by bursts of laughter.
Protectiveness welled up in Libby’s chest, and it took every bit of self-control she possessed to stay seated rather than jump up and give the whole lot of them a tongue-lashing. But Petey seemed unaware of the crowd’s derisive reaction. He put his peg leg behind him, pressing its tip into the dirt. Then, bending forward slightly, he rested his weight on his good leg. He positioned his hands in front of him. His face wore an expression of concentration. He was ready.
Kim Sawyer Page 9
