by Caryl McAdoo
“Okay, sweet one, spit it out. What’s bothering you?”
“You. It’s you who’s bothering me.”
He looked at her all wide eyed. “What’d I do now?”
“Gij! Setting up lunch tomorrow?” She didn’t like her tone, but he had to realize how serious it was to her. “You and Fred? My mother.”
He threw his hands into the air. “What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong with that, you ask? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. Those are the two people who broke my daddy’s heart.”
“That was what, Samantha? Twenty-four years ago? What happened, happened. Mercy, Baby. You need to forgive her.”
“I do not like spending time in her presence! Any time! Is that so hard for you to understand? Gij! I was eight years old, and she left me!” Every nerve stood at attention. Every blood cell surely boiled, the red ones and white ones, the purple and blue ones. She couldn’t stop shaking—or screaming. “She waylaid me tonight! Showing up! Unannounced!” She gritted her teeth and seethed, spitting out the words one at a time. “I hate it, and she knows it.”
He stepped over to her. Rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger. It felt so cold, or either her face burned so hot. “Sweetheart. Unforgiveness only hurts you. Believe me. I mean it, baby. For your own sake, you need to forgive your mother.”
She turned her face away. That didn’t seem possible. “If.” She turned back pointing at him, her words still staccato. “Your God really arranged this big surprise?” She put air quotes around big surprise. “Then He is cruel.”
“No. God loves you. Maybe you need to forgive Him, too.”
His words stung. “Well. I’m tired of this conversation, Johnson. I’m the one in bed.” She grabbed the door handle. “One more time. Alone!”
“I love you.”
She stopped mid-twist then turned back. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Let me tell you something. You may be a great pitcher and the best poker player to ever come down the pike, but when it comes to my mother, you don’t know jack.”
She waited, but when he said nothing, closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER
thirty-three
Game day one-sixty-two.
And contrary to the Mister Albert Hammond’s song, ‘It Never Rains in Southern California’, it poured that morning, but quit almost as fast as it came.
Then like a quick lunch with them wasn’t good enough, he invited April and her John Cord, Leonus Martin and Carlos, too, turning the event into a two-hour extravaganza. Sammi Dan wanted to vomit the whole time.
While Gij and his new best buddy Freddie Dearest huddled with the other Rangers and her camera girl talking baseball, her two timing, baby-girl-leaving mother trapped her at the other end of the table.
“Yesterday morning, I sat there in my robe sipping coffee and watching Fox and Friends, then there you were. In front of your daddy’s old place.”
Sammi Dan refused to look at her and Fred’s wife finally got the idea and started playing with a spoon on the table. It gave Sammi Dan the opportunity to watch her mother’s face without having to look her in the eye.
“You know what I did?” She looked up from her twirling spoon.
Sammi Dan looked away, like watching the guys and April at the table’s other end couldn’t be missed. “I have no clue.”
“Started crying.” She picked up the spoon and laid it on a dirty plate, but didn’t look up again. A tear dripped off her chin.
Waa, waa. She should’ve said it aloud, called the crybaby on her poor acting. Sammi looked around the room. Why didn’t the waiters come and get all these dirty dishes or bring her another glass of sweet iced tea?
“When I finally got ahold of myself, I called your daddy.” She stopped and dabbed at her eyes with a used, wadded napkin. “I’m so happy he and Cate got back together.”
Sammi Dan nodded, blinking back tears of her own. She could not cry, she would not, especially not in front of her. “She makes him happy.”
“Sweetheart, I asked him the same thing I’m going to ask you.” She reached for Sammi’s hand, but she put it in her lap under the table. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, baby girl? And Fred?”
She finally looked her in the eye. “What did Daddy say?”
“He said yes, that he did forgive me. Actually said that he already had, a long time ago. He told me that he was happier now than he’s ever been.” She smiled. “Except for you, I never should have married him. You’re the best thing I ever did, even if I didn’t hang around. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you. I was so selfish.”
Staring at the woman sitting catty-corner to her, Sammi Dan gritted her teeth. Her daddy had gone way too easy on the cheater. The woman didn’t deserve any forgiveness after what she’d done.
True enough that she was thrilled her daddy was finally happy. That was so easy to see. But what about the last twenty-four years? The lonely ones before Corrie Cate.
What about an eight-year-old baby girl?
She stood. “Hey, Johnson. Hate to break up your bull session, but don’t we have a ball game this evening?”
He threw her one of those little boy grins. He should patent that expression. “Sure we do. Number one-sixty-two if you can believe the newspapers.”
Her mother rose, leaned toward her, then kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, always have.”
“You know, you sure couldn’t prove that by me.” Stepping toward Gij, Sammi spoke under her breath where only her mother could hear.
The woman grabbed her arm. “I don’t know how I could ever prove it. And I know I haven’t showed it, but it’s a fact, and it’s true. You’re my daughter, and I do love you. Think we might have a little time, see each other again after the game?”
She faced the virtual stranger, wanted to rip the woman’s fingers off her arm. What right did she have? None, but Sammi only shook her head. “I don’t know. We haven’t made any plans yet, can’t until after Oakland’s game…” Why didn’t she just take her Fred and leave? “I’ll call you. Gotta go, Mom.”
“Well, if I don’t get to see you again, I want you to know I’m so proud of you, Baby, proud of the woman you’ve become. Your daddy did a wonderful job rearing you. I was so wrong, Samantha, and I’m so very sorry that I hurt you.”
Gij drew close, and her mother stuck her hand out and went all gushy over him. What a cheeser. Finally, mercifully, she made it to the stadium media room and went to studying the advance scouting reports.
But they all ran together, melted into her mother’s face. She couldn’t believe she’d showed up, and without even calling; the nerve of the woman.
Why now?
Then in a genuine laugher—except Sammi Dan couldn’t even muster a chuckle—the Rangers won. A bunch of grown men acting the fools, spraying each other and anyone who dared come close with cheap champagne.
It surprised her that Johnson didn’t make a big deal about them celebrating with alcohol. He still didn’t drink any of it, but didn’t seem to mind having it poured over his head.
Once it all died down, Jeff reminded everyone winning the West was just the start, and they were heading home to host Detroit in five days. He didn’t make a big deal about having the time off, but he kept looking right at Gij with a huge grin on his face.
While Johnson changed, she slipped out into hall and pulled out her cell. Rotten eggs, only three bars. She punched up the number. One ring, then two…
“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”
“Oh, Baby! Fred is so pumped! Think you can get us tickets for the game next Friday?”
Her asking for a favor took Sammi by surprise. How dare she act like everything was peaches and cream.
No doubt one of those oh-yes-she’s-my-daughter-but-we’re-more-like-best-friends types—then turning so everyone can see how young the lift made her look.
“I’ll ask Gij, see what I can do. I’ll call in a day or two after
we get back home.”
Now who was being a hypocrite? But it was all Johnson’s fault. She didn’t want to disappoint him by just telling the woman no way and bug off. That’s what she really wanted to do and what her mother deserved.
“Bye, baby, and thanks. This trip was so worth it. You’ll never know what it meant to me. Seeing you again.”
“Yeah, well, gotta go. Bye now.” Sammi Dan hit the off button. She was so sure! Like an I’m-sorry-so-sorry-baby-please-forget-the-last-twenty-four-years was going to make everything alright.
Sammi would never forgive her.
Pumpkins if Charli couldn’t help herself, yeah right. She sure could have if she cared about anyone more than herself.
Gij helped himself all those years. How many hussies had he turned down? Sammi Dan hadn’t ever thought about that, from his fourteen-year-old wrestling buddy to no telling how many in high school and college.
Then once he started winning at Hold ’Em, the ladies had to have been all over him.
She’d certainly tried, but he didn’t want a meaningless—albeit satisfying—tumble, not with her, not with anyone. He wanted a soul mate for life. Who could fault him for that? He wanted to grow old with her, father her children.
Had her mom thought along those lines about Fred?
She never had any kids with him.
Well, it didn’t matter; she never should’ve stolen her daddy away from Corrie Cate just because Freddie Dear left her for the money princess. What would her life have been like if she’d have stayed with Daddy and Sammi Dan?
“Hey, Sweetheart, we best get a move on. We’re leaving for home in two hours.”
She focused. Home sounded so good coming out of his mouth.
Like Johnson saying it made it so, the jumbo jet lifted off two hours and thirty seconds from when Gij claimed it would once the big bird leveled off and pointed its beak toward the Lone Star State.
Sammi Dan leaned her head on his non-pitching shoulder. “You believe in fate?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Same as luck, things don’t happen by chance.”
She wanted to challenge him on it, but she wasn’t sure what she did believe. She turned it all over a half dozen times, but before she could get any kind of hold on it, Sleepy Town called her name.
Gij blew a wayward strand of hair off her cheek onto her nose, but she didn’t budge or open her eyes. She swatted at it half- heartedly then snuggled in harder on his shoulder. Bless her heart. Lord, help her understand that she has to forgive her mother. I praise and thank You that’s not one of my sins.
Images of Samantha Danielle flashed across his soul.
He resisted going there. It wasn’t time. Not now, not yet. He had to stay the course. The Apostle Paul claimed to be chief of sinners, but Gij knew better. Well, he was at least a sub-chief. He loved her sleeping next to him, touching him shoulder to feet, but thankfully, he was in an airplane surrounded by his teammates.
Help us both, Father. Soften her heart and strength my arm. Give us both Your favor.
The wait for the American League Division Series to start—or as everyone and Sammi Dan’s favorite ex-relief pitcher called it, the ALDS—mixed nerves and frivolity, anxiety and fun.
She especially loved watching all the speculation over her and Gij’s love life. Wouldn’t the talking heads have a field day if they discovered she lived with him? But in separate rooms!
Everyone and his brother had their opinion about why she hadn’t gone west with the team, then how he had got her to join him.
Forget his third no-hitter was the second in a row. Or that Vegas relented and was taking wagers on the Rangers again. Had to put up three to one odds and give up two and a half runs. Bookies hated ties.
Least that’s what Gij claimed.
Even with the run differential and the high odds, the line to put money on Texas was twice as long as Detroit’s. It bothered her some that Oakland beat the Indians in the wild card game, but Gij didn’t figure the A’s could get past Boston.
However now, if they did, it would give Texas home field advantage; otherwise the second round would start on the East Coast.
Game day finally arrived, but she sure couldn’t tell it from the way Johnson acted. He even cooked her breakfast. She put the last plate in the dishwasher then faced the man who’d just made the best omelet she’d ever eaten. “So you ready?”
“Sure.”
“Arm fine? Need me to kiss any boo-boos?” She raised both eyebrows.
“You…” He shook his head then smiled. “You are so going to get it one day soon.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“No faith, huh?” He started hitting light switches on his way to the garage door. “Hey, did you ever talk with Cate?”
“Yes, sir. Everything’s set because no one cares what I think.”
She couldn’t believe it. As though her dad and mother conspired against her, they’d worked out all the disgusting plans with each other and then even conscripted Johnson in their plot.
“They’re picking up the tickets at Will Call. Are you sure about everyone staying here? ’Cause I sure am not.”
“Why? What’s to worry about? Let them all see for themselves that we are not shacked up.”
Before she could point out all the drawbacks to having both of her parents – with their significant others – in the same house, the phone rang. Strange that it startled her so; but it wasn’t her cell.
Instead, a sure enough land line. She’d noticed the thing hanging on the kitchen wall, but assumed it didn’t work. Gij stopped at the door and turned. She grabbed the receiver on the antique’s second, loud ringy-dingy.
“Georgie there?”
She covered the mouth piece. “Some guy wants to know if there’s a Georgie here.”
He stepped toward her holding his hand out, and she passed him the receiver. The long curly cord took her back to her childhood. She’d spent hours playing with one just like it while she cussed and discussed everything and everyone one with her BFFs back in Red River County.
“Yeah, G.H. here.” He listened for a long time, then nodded. “That’s a lot of money.” Then he fell silent again.
What was he talking about? A lot of money. Something to do with their wedding? A surprise for her maybe? She wanted him to get off and tell her. The look in his eyes told her something nefarious was definitely afoot.
But if he kept listening all night…
“You crazy? I don’t keep that much cash lying around.”
Why did he need money? And in a hurry?
He listened for a while longer then shrugged. “Two hours will work, call me back then.” He hung the receiver back on its holder then smiled. “Text April. Have her meet us at the stadium ASAP.”
“Who was that on the phone, and what’s going on? Why do you need cash? And what’s Meadows got to do with it?”
“Heavens, girl, a full blown inquisition? Load up, and I’ll tell you on the way.” He nodded toward the door. “Chop-chop, the clock is ticking.”
CHAPTER
thirty-four
Gij hit the remote and closed the garage door, then headed toward the front gate.
“Okay, honey bunny, what’s going on?”
“The guy on the phone was a friend of my cousin. Somehow, he found out about Uncle Walter’s notebook, and the goob thinks the story has value.”
“So why April, what have you got planned?”
He threw her a grin. “Figured I’d let you ask me about it. Don’t you media types call it getting ahead of the story?”
“Yes we do. How about I ask about the PEDs?”
“Sure, I can bare my arms and show there’s no track marks.”
“Well, that might work, but I’d have to do a more thorough inspection. I could be your witness.”
He chuckled then shook his head. “Don’t you ever give up?”
“I keep hoping you’ll ge
t the message.”
He eyed her hard, but didn’t say anything else; his expression told it all, he wanted her as much or more than she wanted him. She leaned back and went to rehearsing the coming interview. Succotash! This one could reap more air time than all the others put together.
Took a bit longer than she wanted, but soon enough it was on—in the seats behind the Rangers’ dugout no less. Lights. Camera. Action. She put on her professional face, then upgraded her canned intro spiel with a big Texas howdy opening.
It won her a huge grin from her honey. “I am here to tell you that G.H. Johnson himself requested this interview, so let’s not waste any time finding out what the dyno-mite Ranger rookie has to say. What is it, Johnson, that you want your fans to know?”
She held out the mic toward him, and Meadow pointed the camera at him. Sammi Dan wet her lips then pursed them into a big ol’ sloppy kiss.
He maintained his poker face, but she caught the mirth she’d garnered in his eyes. “Well, Samantha, this morning a man I thought was my friend—the guy’s almost family—called to offer me first turndown on some information he’s privy to.”
“Oh, dear! Blackmail? What a scuzz-bucket.”
Gij smiled. “Somehow, not that it’s that big of a deal, he found out that last year, my Pappaw bought several boxes of Walter Johnson’s memorabilia, including his pitching journals.”
He paused.
Sammi Dan resisted helping him out.
He studied the green area beyond the center field fence. “Apparently, this man thought me being in possession of my great-uncle’s personal notes was some big secret.
“Granted, his annotations have helped me immensely, especially exactly how he gripped the ball and the arm slot he’d found that worked the best for him. But without all the years I spent learning the game and the raw talent the good Lord blessed me with—without Him healing my shoulder, Uncle Walter’s notes wouldn’t have done me any good.”
