by Caryl McAdoo
Gij leaned back, reached down, and pulled a framed picture about half the size of the biggest ones then put it face down on his lap. “They let me stay in his room. On the second night, he opened his eyes and sat straight up in bed.”
“Really? Like all well?”
“No. He knew he was dying. The only thing he said was that he wanted to go home. I told him we couldn’t, but he insisted, made me promise to bring him back here. Soon as I agreed, he fell back to sleep.” Her guy offered his palms up and shook his head. “Or whatever you call going back into a coma.”
“Wow, bet that wasn’t easy.”
“Not at all. The docs objected, but I brought in twenty-four-hour nurse care to help. You’re staying in his old room. I figured you’d pick it. I wanted him to have the biggest and best.”
“Okay, I like my room.” She waved at the walls. “But what about all this? Let’s get to the nitty gritty.”
“He was out until the third night home, then just like in the hospital, he woke, sat up in bed, and clicked on his TV. There you were giving the five-day forecast. Found out later, that was your first night.”
She chuckled. “I remember that broadcast. I was so scared.”
“You did look a bit out of sorts, but anyway, Pappaw started grinning like he’d just won the lottery. He pointed right at you. ‘Right there’s your wife, Gij. That’s who you need. Yes, sir. Samantha Davenport will make you a great partner.’ ” He smiled his best little boy grin at her. “Then he lifted the photograph in his lap and pointed at this picture. It had always been right next to the TV as long as I could remember.”
He handed her the cheap framed, old baseball team photo from when he was only a kid. “He stuck his bony finger right at you, and says, ‘Yes, sir, son of my old age, there’s your soul mate.’ Then he looked me in the eye. ‘God says so.’ ”
Sammi Dan studied the picture; there her five-year-old self with her hands on her hips glaring at the bad boys who’d made her cousin cry. She remembered that day, too. “I hated you guys. It was a rotten game, and all I wanted to do was kick every one of you in the shin.”
“I, on the other hand, loved that game.”
“So, your Pappaw wakes up, points at me and basically says sic her boy. What’d you do then?”
“Nothing. He went back into the coma, and I… Well, I did go out of my way to watch the weather whenever you were on. I caught a lot of television during that time. He lived nine days after I got back, then I stayed at home a lot after the funeral.”
She wanted to believe all this, but… “Okay, so when did you start on all the pictures?”
He closed his eyes and leaned back. Almost looked like he was trying to come up with something good, something that sounded sweet and feasible instead of just creepy, except if everything she knew about the man was real, he wouldn’t offer her anything but the truth—no matter how bizarre.
No doubt he believed it was God’s mandate that he marry her. His Pappaw said so. But God didn’t talk to people today like He did in the Bible. Could it be some spiritual cult he and his granddad got caught up in? And what about his unbelievable talents? He was blowing the big league hitters away like the Santa Ana winds on a clear day. Could his abilities be conjured?
He sat forward and opened his eyes. “I love you.”
“Do you, Gij? Really? Are you sure you aren’t just caught up in your Pappaw’s deathbed rantings? People say crazy things when–”
“No, that isn’t it at all. I do love you.”
She pulled her feet up under her and faced him, yawning. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to forget that nap. You’ve got to finish your story and finish it now. I just can’t wait.”
He nodded. “Okay, fine. I always intended to tell you. I guess you need to hear the whole story.”
“No guessing about it. I definitely need your explanation for all this.” Her hand swept the room with all its photos.
“My freshman year, I didn’t get to play a lot on the school team.”
Why did he keep going back so far? All she wanted to know is why he had all the pictures of her. That’s what was disturbing. “Most fish don’t.”
“But I was different, and it was all about politics. Anyway, Pappaw put together a select team that year, and we were winning all over the place. Then one week, I pitched three games, a total of twenty-one innings, and I blew out my shoulder. I didn’t pitch again until last year.”
“But you played for UT.”
“Oh, I kept at it. The rest of that year, I played first base, then I moved to third; side arm didn’t hurt too bad. But from that day until last year, it always ached.” He grabbed his right shoulder with his left hand, then tapped its top with his index finger. “Right there.”
“So what happened last year? The media guide doesn’t mention any surgery.”
“No. No knives. For a while, I took too many pain killers, but I got off those right about the time I found Texas Hold ’Em. Seems I have a talent for it.”
“Traded one addiction for another, huh? But let’s not chase any bunny rabbits. I want to hear about your obsession with me and when that started.”
“Maybe, probably. I don’t know if obsessed is the word.”
She laughed. “Whatever you think. So, if you didn’t have an operation, then what happened last year?”
“Pappaw woke up one last time.” Gij filled his lungs then exhaled slowly, the same way he did when some monster batter took the box. “I’d fallen asleep in one of these chairs. He woke me and called me over to his bed. Tears streamed down his cheeks.” Her man blinked away tears of his own. “He says, ‘I’m sorry, Gij. It’s all my fault. I ruined your arm.’
“No, Pappaw, I wanted to keep going. You know I did.”
The sorrow in his eyes looked like he actually relived the moment. “When I was fourteen, that third game, I had a no-hitter going. I wasn’t about to let him pull me.” He took another deep breath before continuing. “Finally, after Pappaw stopped crying, he motioned for me to come closer. I leaned down until I practically laid on his chest. He grabbed my right shoulder.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Not at all. It got real warm until it felt hot as fire, like heated honey or something flowed from his hand to my shoulder and all the way down my arm.” He shrugged. “The ache was gone, instantly. It’s never hurt again. Pappaw said, ‘Seven and seven, then after the series, you and Samantha Danielle go help Jim.’ Then he looked me right in the eye. ‘Promise me, Gij. One season—that’s it—then you’re done with pro ball.’ ”
“Did you promise? Only one year?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s this Jim guy? Do you know?”
“He’s a friend of ours; Pappaw and I met him in Alaska.”
“What are you supposed to do to help him?” She left herself out of the equation even if Pappaw hadn’t.
“Six months out of the year, he flies missionaries around Africa.”
Africa? She hated to burst his bubble, but she had no intentions to move across the Atlantic and be any part of flying a bunch of Jesus freaks around. “So what’d he mean by that seven and seven?”
“He didn’t say right away, but later he told me, seven shutouts, and seven no-hitters.”
“Do the ones in Mexico count?
“No, they don’t.”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugged.
“You are, aren’t you? But Gij, it took Nolan like twenty-five years to get his seven.”
“I know. And six shutouts in one year is the record, too.”
“What else?”
“Sometime or another, he never told me exactly how, he found out a cousin of his had Walter Johnson’s pitching notebooks. He made a deal to buy them, and they came the week before he had his heart trouble.”
“Really?” Now this sounded pretty believable and not so spooky. “Wow, is that how…”
“Yes, ma’am. I studied them a lot, still do some
. Anyway, I got a buddy of mine to work with me last fall, then this past winter, I hooked up with the Rojos. I couldn’t believe it when you showed up in Mexico City. It was a miracle, like the Lord worked it all out and there you were. And here we are.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me all this before? Or at least come meet me before you went to Mexico. I mean, a whole year passed, right?”
“Without the shutouts and the no-hitter under my belt, what would you have thought? I wouldn’t have had a lick of credibility. I thought about looking you up plenty, almost did the first time I hit a hundred on the radar gun. But it all sounded so far fetched, even to me.”
She leaned back. Oh, that was an understatement. Still, here she was, and in spite of it all, she had fallen in love with him. When she thought he was some kind of freak, her heart hurt so bad, like it was about to break completely in two. Then a question that he had dodged too often rushed to the forefront.
“What about April? Why did you put her in your contract?”
“In Mexico City, I noticed she had a small gold cross around her neck.” He smiled. “After you throwing yourself at me the way you did at the hotel, I figured you needed a Christian friend. That’s why I made you and her a package. She was never a separate issue. Once I agreed to losses canceling out wins, it was a done deal.”
Standing, she held her hands out. “I love you, Gij. I don’t know exactly what I think about all this. I am sorry I didn’t get to meet your Pappaw, though.”
He jumped up, took her hands, and pulled her into him. She leaned her head back for a kiss. He looked into her eyes. “Just hold me, okay?”
She laid her cheek on his chest and squeezed him tight. He’d told her everything, and she understood a little better, but she had an awful lot to think about. His hands spread over her back, engulfed her.
She didn’t ever want to let him go, she knew that much. And she also knew that she didn’t ever want him to let her go either.
She should come clean like he did. Get everything in the open. There’d never be a better time. She squeezed him tighter. “Gij…”
CHAPTER
ninEtEEN
He leaned back. “What?”
Sammi Dan mimicked his breathing thing then decided to come in from left field. “That Roxi friend, you ever see her again?” Oh, yogurt! What a coward; the biggest chicken Bo Pilgrim ever laid eyes on.
Why, she wouldn’t be surprised if they heard her clucking all the way to the ballpark in Arlington. Why bring his friend girl up? Why didn’t she just spit it out?
He laughed. “At school, but no, we never got together if that’s what you’re asking. My Pappaw saw to that.”
Okay, that was good, but he didn’t give her any lead in. How could she bring the subject up? What should she say to tell him the truth about her love life? She had to, even though she hated to, hated with her whole heart to disappoint him. And how could he help but be disappointed?
“Say, I’ve been thinking…”
Okay, here it comes. Do not lie to him. Get it out and in the open, the whole truth. Don’t even think about lying. Be sincere, be contrite. No way could she change it, what’s done is done.
Nothing but the truth.
“A buddy of mine…”
Wait. What? A buddy of his?
What was that all about? Didn’t he want to know about her past? Wasn’t he going to ask her how many men she’d known? She’d been trying so hard to count, but wasn’t sure she could remember all of them.
Maybe she should add five—or ten? Maybe she should only tell him the number she remembered. Would she be lying not to mention the rest if those were the only ones she recalled?
“Well, I’ve been knowing about this home group for a while, but haven’t visited yet…”
“I’m sorry, Gij. What? My mind was somewhere else. What about your buddy?”
He grinned, and she swallowed. “He told me about a group that meets in the home of a friend of his. Thought we might go tonight, if you’re up to it. It’s covered dish. I was thinking we might take ribs and a cake. What do you say?”
“Sure, of course we can go.” What had she just said? Go where? Why wasn’t he asking her about her past? He wasn’t stupid. He had to know, didn’t he? “Did you say a group? What kind of group?”
“A home group. Like church, but more like a Bible study, maybe some praise and worship. Prayer.”
She sucked in a deep breath. And she had already agreed, huh? “Will I have to pray? Aloud? I mean, in front of everyone?”
He was so obviously trying not to smile. “No, not at all. Only if you want to.”
“And when is it?”
“I think it starts about six-thirty. We’ll need to leave at six. Plenty of time for a nap and me to cook.”
“Okay, now about that nap…” She grinned and nodded toward his bed. “I still got my flannel gown.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head ever so slowly. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to entice you to do something you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I want to. Believe me. That isn’t an issue.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently spun her toward the door. “You’ll be more comfortable in your room anyway. It’s bigger.”
She stopped at the door, turned, and blew him a big, wet, sloppy kiss then marched out. On the way, she ducked into the room between his and hers and did a quick mental remodel.
Wouldn’t be that hard to knock out a wall and take in some of her room; make a great master suite with a door to the nursery. She dwelt on that thought all the way to slipping between her sheets.
Then it hit her hard. He’d never go for it once he learned the truth. She was damaged produce, worse than a boat load of rotten bananas. Yes, we have no bananas.
Today, or ever.
She rubbed her hand over his bare chest. It felt so soft and smooth. Wait, no hair? What? She sat up. Her hand rested on her pillow. Oh, grapes. He was driving her crazy, stark raving loony toons mad.
He even haunted her dreams.
She jumped up and stumbled to the shower. Hot water and lots of it, that’s what she needed. Had he made coffee? A jolt of caffeine would do her wonders, too—and for him to hold her and tell her all the men in her past didn’t matter.
Except before he could do that, he had to know about them, and it seemed she was just too big a wuss.
That night, after the group thing—maybe it’s like an AA twelve-step meeting or something and at the end everyone held hands.
If he got all dopey, maybe she could tell him then and it’d be okay. Yeah, right. That’s foolish thinking, as stupid as swearing hamburger tastes better than steak. She could never tell him in front of all his friends.
Not only was the coffee brewing, he already a cake in the oven. She found him outside on the second level patio stoking his monster grill. On the cooker’s wooden side table, two racks of spare ribs rested atop a big cookie sheet.
Sure did like a man who could smoke meat.
“Hey, Sweetie. You sleep all right?”
“Okay, except…” She had to say something, but then what? Get in her car and drive away? Forget about the nicest guy she’d never slept with? She couldn’t bring it up and ruin the evening. Why should she?
Maybe on the way home.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Except what?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you’re driving me crazy. I was right in the middle of this great dream, and then I woke up, and it was just my pillow, not you.”
He nodded then smiled his best little boy grin. “I’ve done quite a bit of that myself.”
“Really?”
He stepped closer, took her coffee cup, got himself a sip, then handed it back. “Oh absolutely, I beat myself up something horrible this morning for not taking you up on your granny gown offer.”
“You did?”
“Of course. Samantha Danielle, I want you more than my next breat
h. For a year, I’ve admired you from afar, dreamed about you, prayed for you, wanted you with my whole being, and now here you are.”
“But…”
“To find out that the real, genuine you is way better than what I imagined... It’s just almost too much for a rookie to handle.”
How could she bring up anything that would shorten being around this man even one more day? No way. She’d just forget about it and play like none of it ever happened. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him—or her.
And besides, being such a gentleman, maybe he’d never ask. What difference did it make anyway? It was in the past and it had all been safe. Well, the majority anyway.
“That is so sweet, Gij. Still hard to believe though, and a little weird, too. I haven’t quite wrapped my brain around the whole this-is-the-girl-I’m-going-to-marry-even-though-I’ve-never-met-her thing. That you fell for me before I ever said hello.”
“But it’s the truth.” He stared into her eyes. Her heart flipped then swelled to at least double its normal size. “I love you, Samantha Danielle.” He held out his arms.
“Strange as the story is, I love you, too.” She walked into his embrace.
Gij held her too long, but she felt so good and soft and… Oh Lord, give me strength. Somehow he managed to ease her back a bit. “How about you get me some coffee, and I get these ribs on.”
“You are no fun, George Herman Walter Johnson.”
“I know. I hate me, too.”
She backed away a step. “I don’t hate you. I love you, and well…”
“You’re doing it.”
She backed away another step. “Doing what? Seeing as how you’ve cast us in this PG movie, and I’d never—myself—well…”
He waved her off. “Git, girl, before I do something I’d be sorry for.”
She threw him a kiss then turned and marched up the rock path. He watched until she disappeared in the kitchen. He loved the way she moved. Heavens, was there anything he didn’t love about her other than her past?
