by Caryl McAdoo
She carefully spread them out on her bed and kept emptying the surprise box. Shoes came next, two pair. Beneath them, at the bottom, lay a small black velvet box. What could it be? She lifted it and pried the lid open, peeking in.
Gold and green flashed. Emeralds! Earrings and a necklace! He’d bought her emeralds set in yellow gold, her favorite. Hot fudge sundae! She needed to swallow, but couldn’t.
Were they real? She turned one of the earrings, studying the inside rim.
“They’re fourteen karat. I picked those out myself.”
She looked toward the door that framed her dream prince. “When?”
“Last night.”
“But…but…” She hurried to the dresser mirror and put them on. “I was with you the whole time. How…” Admiring the sparkling green stones on her lobes, she turned her head then unclasped the necklace.
Missing three times in a row when she tried to fasten it, she held it out toward him. “My pleasure.” He took the two ends of the beautiful gold rope chain, and she held her hair up out of his way.”
He fastened it, and she adjusted the large princess-cut emerald to hang straight. She turned from the mirror and faced him, her eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you. I love them. They’re so beautiful. I’ve never –”
He touched her lips with a fingertip. “You’re welcome. They pale in comparison to your eyes though.”
“I still don’t understand how you got them last night. You went to bed early.”
“I spent a little time online before going to sleep. I found them on Neiman’s website then emailed my friend there to send them with some more clothes. Told her what I wanted, and she chose those for you, but I picked the jewelry.”
“So did you see all the news?”
“A little of it.”
“Uh huh, we’re trending, aren’t we?” She grinned and pushed him toward the hall. “Go away. I want to try all this on. You get comfortable, and I’ll be out shortly.”
His private fashion show went great and ended with the glittering after-five dress. She loved modeling for him. He beamed, brighter it seemed with each change. But she decided against her planned surprise.
After him giving her the jewels, she just couldn’t do that. No matter how much she wanted him and knew he’d thank her afterwards, if he wanted to wait, the least she could do was respect his wishes.
Before him, she twirled slowly in the beautiful shimmering, sparkling green dress. When she faced him again, he stood, took both her hands and squeezed, looking into her eyes, then kissed the top of her head and said goodnight.
Marching into the kitchen, she poured a tea tumbler full with Chardonnay. This was ridiculous. But then she caught sight of herself in the window’s reflection. How could he resist her in that dress?
She’d never looked better. Oh well, his loss. She held out her arms, embracing her phantom prince and danced all the way to her room.
Where was that book? Tizzy’s relationship with her Ranger had to be progressing faster than her own.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Gij hated flying commercial, but he definitely wanted to fly home with the team. Plus, the front office was nice enough to spring for first class, and Yancy let him upgrade Samantha and April’s coach tickets.
Should have insisted the station pay for it, but he didn’t want to fight that battle. At least, he didn’t have to do the flying. Also hated hotel rooms and not having a kitchen, but Samantha Danielle proved a plenty good salve.
Oh, Lord, you sure had me in mind when you made her. Or was it the other way around?
The minutes ticked by and with each waking one, time seemed to go slower. Pitching against the Dodgers—Branch Rickey’s and Jackie Robinson’s team—the transplanted Bums from Brooklyn.
He loved baseball history, and hopefully was about to make a little of his own. But mercy, the Dodgers! Even worse, he’d have to bat.
Early that night, way before either he or Samantha Danielle really wanted, he made himself retire to his room. He’d allowed a bit of snuggling, but needed to craft a rule against that.
He wanted her so much; he might just have to check himself in to Bedlam or whatever they called the local loony bin hotel.
If everything Pappaw said came to.… No, he couldn’t go there. It was just too far fetched. He’d hide and watch and see what God did. One thing remained certain, with the Lord, anything was possible.
Sammi Dan pulled the microphone from Gij’s mouth then faced the camera. “There you have it, folks. G.H. says he’s ready. Banister said Johnson’s two innings of emergency relief Friday night at Globe Life Park in Arlington amounted to little more than a bullpen between starts.
“The Ranger’s new phenom pitcher will not be hindered by any kind of limit on the mound in tonight’s game.” She glanced his direction with a nod. “Guess you’ll be shooting for the stars.”
His ‘yes, ma’am’ could be heard off camera.
She froze her smile until April turned off the camera then faced Gij. “I know you won’t lie, so tell me your arm is really okay.”
He smiled like he couldn’t believe she kept bringing it up, but she didn’t care. It was important. He looked her square in the eye. “I’m fine. My arm’s fine. Just like Jeff said, Friday night was no more than my normal bullpen. Quit worrying.”
“Well, somebody’s got to. You won’t.”
“Go worry about someone else. I’ve got a game to pitch, and you’re too big a distraction standing there looking so beautiful and all.”
She gave him a yeah-right smile, like he knew what he was missing, then turned and walked off the field. Somehow she needed to persuade him to think long term. If he didn’t blow out his arm, there’d be no reason he couldn’t….
The sky would be the limit on the number of records he could break before his career ended. Didn’t he want to be a part of baseball history? Why shouldn’t that mean something to him? But was that what really bothered her?
Without the game, would she and Gij have anything in common? She tried with no success to imagine a life with him without baseball in it.
Well, even if he wasn’t playing, they’d still be able to enjoy the sport together, go to games and follow the Rangers. He claimed his Pappaw talked about that T-ball game a lot—the first year her dad coached, and she fell in love with baseball.
The park itself, the concession stand, the boys, hollering and cheering her head off then hurting so bad when her team lost or being so ecstatic when they won. She’d loved it for so long.
Then, while a lowly weather girl, talking about her love for the game paid off royally. She’d never say anything to anyone at KBTL, but truth be known, she’d do it for free. Sad thing remained that every month so many people wanted to get into her pocketbook.
If only she didn’t have bills to pay.
Bills to pay? Oh liver! She’d thought of those nasty things Saturday then forgot them again as quick. She had to check her mail and her bank balance. Hey, maybe her phone wasn’t just dead.
A swift mental scan of what due dates she’d missed ran through her brain. She’d definitely have to spend some time online tomorrow and get back on top of her finances. As much as she loved spending the lion’s share of her time with and thinking about Gij, she still had responsibilities.
Except thinking about him made her so happy, and messing with money only frustrated her to no end. She hated it. Hey, maybe he could recommend a good accountant, someone she could trust to see to her finances.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful? She laughed, like she could afford an accountant.
“Hey, you, want anything from the cart before the game starts?”
She looked at April, pushing thoughts of filthy lucre back where they belonged, at least until tomorrow. Certainly wasn’t going to do anything about it tonight, so she concentrated on her wonderful job.
Focusing on the Dodger’s electric atmosphere, its fans, vendors, players, umpires, and her own press c
orps colleagues, she loved it. “Sure, a little fruit and some cheese maybe. Whatever looks good and low cal.”
Her producer turned and Sammi Dan hollered an addition to her order. “And a diet soda. Please.”
Before she finished all the grapes and her baby carrots dipped in ranch dressing that April scored, Gij had breezed through the first six Dodgers, but their pitcher returned the favor.
She thumbed through her media guide, but didn’t recognize the LA hurler. It didn’t matter anyway, her guy was the story. The Ranger batters would figure that Rag Arm out soon enough.
The announcer hadn’t managed more than ninety yet for the opposition, and Gij had topped a hundred twice already. What was up with that? Her own personal flame thrower usually kept it under a hundred until the eighth.
Top of the third—and after the first batter hit a weak grounder to second—Gij stood in the on deck circle swinging two bats. The eighth hitter fouled off two big hooks then watched a fastball clip the black for a called strike three.
She remembered when her Uncle Jim explained that home plate was always trimmed in black and the officials usually gave the edges to the pitchers, but they were technically a ball. She resisted the urge to holler.
Blue couldn’t hear her way down there anyway, and her daddy always said it ain’t nothing until he called it, then that’s what it was.
Gij walked on four straight pitches; okay, he had a good eye at the plate. Cool. Wouldn’t that be something if he could hit, too? Maybe even knock in the winning run. She loved happy endings, but assumed that might be too much to ask for.
Like the game of chess, the contest progressed in lunges and lurches; a lot of almost boring waiting interrupted by fantastic heart-stopping action. Except Rag Arm matched Gij out for out.
No runs, no hits, and only a few fly balls out of the infield.
Her Ranger did have a sacrifice bunt in the sixth to go with his own walk, but that led nowhere. What Gij was doing with his heat, the Dodgers guy matched with smoke and mirrors—big hooks, hard sliders, and pinpoint control.
Sammi Dan wanted to slap him down.
A blooper to right in the bottom of the eighth with two outs, just over Fielder’s outstretched mitt, and there went Gij’s no-hitter. He glared as the batter hustled down the line to first. Oh well, forget the spoiler.
Concentrate on the next batter.
Twice, he burned in two high hard ones, then Carlos called for a deuce. Okay. He floated an eighty-eight change-in at the knees, and the man’s bat fanned the air about a foot out in front.
Gij suppressed a grin as he trotted to the dugout. Up third, he for sure didn’t want any retaliation. He’d always hated getting hit or hitting someone, never cared for that part of the game, but sometimes…it had to be done.
“Tough luck, kid.” Jeff patted him on the shoulder as he hopped down the dugout steps.
He sat and instead of being avoided like the plague, things went back to normal. Maddox slipped in beside him.
“How’s the arm?”
“Good, what’s the count?”
“You’re at one-o-two.”
“That many?”
“Afraid so, if we don’t put up something this inning….” The coach grimaced.
“I’m fine. I can go at least another two, three if you need.”
Maddox nodded as though he’d heard it all before and patted Gij’s knee. “We’ll see.” A sharp liner right at the third baseman, one up, one out. “Grab a bat, Johnson. You’re on deck.”
A pop up. Two away.
Gij strolled to the plate with a rock in his gut.
Oh Lord, help me.
First pitch came in right down the middle. Gij yanked hard. The old cowhide jumped off the timber and flew right down the third base line heading straight for the foul pole. He stepped toward first and waved the ball to the right.
At the last second, it hooked foul by three feet. The crowd’s groans turned to sighs of relief. That sure felt good, almost like he’d found his stroke.
“Straighten it out, kid.”
“Way to hack the old tater!” He glanced at his teammates then back to the man on the mound. Their encouragement along with the feel of his bat hitting that ball dissolved the gut stone.
Next pitch, a big hook that dropped in, crossed the plate for a called strike. He made himself not look at Blue. Wouldn’t do any good. Okay, he spoke mentally to the pitcher. You’re not so bad. Give up another one of those. Come on, man, show me what you got.
On the next throw, Gij spotted the spin and checked his swing. The slider darted into the dirt. That the best he’s got?
Thank you, Lord. Put in his heart to give me one in my wheel house.
Exactly as ordered, the Dodger grooved one right down the middle, belt high. Gij turned on it and drove it over the left field fence. He dropped the bat and trotted the bases, then suffered his teammates’ exuberance, but he didn’t mind a bit.
Oh Lord, thank you! For giving my stroke back. Sure felt good.
He didn’t say a word when Elvis took his helmet off and rubbed his head. That was the way it should have been all along. He turned it up a couple of degrees and struck out the sides in the ninth.
Like walking in a dream, everything slowed, and he saw himself walking the gauntlet of high fives and back slaps. He loved it. Just like Pappaw had said. Then there she stood, the icing on his cake, smiling so big her cheeks had to be hurting.
She stuck her mic out at him. “G.H.! What a game! How does it feel?”
“I’m blessed! It’s wonderful.”
“Twenty straight shutout innings, and you’ve only given up a total of two hits and a walk! And now you smashed the game-winning homer. Should we be calling you the Babe now? I mean your grandfather named you after the great Bambino, right?”
“Yes, that’s a fact, he did.” Now he’d have to kill her. He shook his head. “But no, there was only one Babe, and I’m not him.”
“You sure played like Ruth today. It’s beyond storybook.”
He gave her a nod and a grin. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Your next scheduled start is against San Francisco. Think you can keep it up against the Giants?”
“Sure hope to, Lord willing.”
Sammi Dan pulled the microphone from Gij’s mouth and faced April’s camera. “Wow, double wow, and Waverly Lay’s! There it is. You heard it straight from the Rangers’ oldest rookie, except folks, G. H. Johnson sure doesn’t play like any rookie this reporter’s ever seen.
“Samantha Davenport, live from Dodger land.” She smiled until the little red light went dark then threw Gij a little grimace. “Did I mess up just now?”
He nodded. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Meet you back at the hotel?”
“Sure. We’ll grab some supper.”
She beat him to the hotel and headed up to her and April’s room to freshen up. Thought about changing, but decided against it, then made her way to the bar. Still not there. She slipped onto a stool with a good view of the lobby.
The barkeep eased over and smiled. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”
“Tequila shooter, with a seven chaser.” She couldn’t believe she’d let it slip out. Had she blown it with Gij? She didn’t see what the big deal was anyway.
Not like she called him the Babe, or that it would be such a bad thing. Sour grapes. If Ruth wasn’t the best ever, at least in the top three, she might could see it, but the comparison was a compliment at the least.
Her drink arrived. She limed and salted, then slammed the liquid fire. Okay, that was better. He wouldn’t dump her over an offhanded comment, would he? He definitely hadn’t let her off the hook, and he could have.
She held her empty shot glass up. “Another?” It came and went just as fast as the first. Much better. She paid her tab, then strolled out to the lobby.
Perfect timing. He strolled in just behind Carlos. Understandable, pitchers and catchers worked together. Why not
hang out on the road? Gij looked her way, and she waved. He said something to the catcher and headed over.
“Hey, where do you want to eat?”
“How about room service?”
“Fine by me. I like hotel food. It’s right up there just behind Mickey D’s.”
CHAPTER
Thirteen
Once the elevator door slid shut, Gij took Samantha Danielle’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “You sure look good in that blouse. Brings out the green in your eyes.”
“Thanks, for the outfit and the compliment. Are you mad at me?”
He loved her being so direct, but she sure didn’t have a poker face. “No, a little irritated maybe, but I wouldn’t call it mad.”
“Well, it certainly looked to me like you were more than aggravated after my post-game interview.”
The door slid open, and he waited until he had her inside his suite. Good thing he included that little item in his contract. He’d hate having a roommate on road trips, especially with Samantha Danielle spending so much time with him.
He flopped down in one of the two chairs at a small table. “For a lot of my life, some idiot has tried to hang Babe on me, and fine, it hit me wrong. But it wasn’t all you or what you said—and I know you didn’t mean to—I just.…”
She sat on the bed and eased closer. “What?”
“My Pappaw.” Gij sighed. “He’s the one who hung George Herman Walter Johnson on me, and well, at the end, it remained the only unresolved issue between us.” He shrugged. “I didn’t ever really forgive him for doing that.”
“Okay, how about I dream up a new nickname for you? And I’ll start using it?”
“Sure, see what you can come up with, but run it by me first.”
“Of course.” She scooted her chair closer. “Now, there’s several things I need your help with.”
So she needed his help. Well, he needed her help, too, but that would have to wait. He filled his lungs and blew it out real slow. “What can I do for you?”
