Out of Left Field: Marlee's Story
Copyright © 2008 by Barbara L. Clanton
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
More Barbara L Clanton Titles
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Out of Left Field: Marlee's Story
by
Barbara L. Clanton
Copyright © 2008 by Barbara L. Clanton
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Parts of this work are fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-935053-96-5 (eBook)
eBook Conversion September 2011
Cover design by Donna Pawlowski
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC
4700 Hwy 365, Suite A, PMB 210
Port Arthur, Texas 7764
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
Thanks to everyone at Regal Crest for making this a reality for me. I especially want to thank Cathy LeNoir for taking a risk with a newbie and to my editor Mary Phillips for helping me with my learning curve. Sincere thanks go out to everyone who read and commented on various drafts of Marlee, in particular Andi Marquette, my very first Beta reader who I now call friend. Thanks also go out to my other early draft readers Kim Dahl, Beth Robinson, Carmen Roldan, Melissa McCurley, Shirl Wright, Deidra Mitchell, and the Cathys who offered wonderful advice and encouragement. Thanks to my parents, Paul and JoAnne Clanton, my brothers, Paul and John and their respective families for their encouragement. Thanks to my “in-laws,” Mamie and Joe Weathers, who have also been great cheerleaders. Grandma, thanks for your companionship in upstate New York where this book was largely written. And thanks, finally, to my rock, Jackie Weathers, who has been the one great love of my life.
Dedication
For my grandmother, Barbara M. Thompson who helped provide a solid foundation for this questioning kid turned grownup. Thanks, Grandma.
Out of Left Field: Marlee's Story
by
Barbara L. Clanton
Chapter One
Soft as Rain
MARLEE MCALLISTER SHOUTED over the wind. “Hey, Jeri, c’mon. Put the top up, I’m freezing!” She put a hand on her head to keep her short blond hair from whipping into her eyes.
Marlee’s best friend, Jeri D’Amico, made no move to adjust the Mustang convertible’s top. “Hey, don’t avoid my question.” When Marlee didn’t respond, Jeri said, “Oh, you're such a baby. There’s a blanket in the back.” Jeri reached into the backseat causing the car to swerve on the dark country road.
Marlee grabbed for the panic handle on the door, but came up empty. “God, Jeri. Let’s get there in one piece, okay?” Marlee received a playful punch on her arm in response. “Watch it,” Marlee rubbed her bicep. “I gotta pitch on Tuesday. Don’t hurt the merchandise.”
“Oh, give me a break. That’s not even your pitching arm, Miss Pitcher of the Year wanna-be. But, girl, how are you gonna be the First Team All-County pitcher when you’re up against the reigning All-County pitcher,” Jeri switched to an announcer’s voice, “Christy, Christy, Christy...Loveland, Loveland, Loveland of the East Valley Panthers, Panthers, Panthers...”
“Oh, shut up.” Marlee knew that even though the topic had changed, Jeri wouldn’t drop the original question for long. “What’s so special about Christy, anyway?” Marlee looked over at her friend. “What do the Panthers have that we don’t have?”
Jeri snickered, “Besides Loveland? Who knows? All I know is that the Clarksonville Cougars, all two of us, are going to make a grand entrance tonight. So that’s why we have to arrive with the top down and act like we’re all that.” Jeri pursed her lips and bobbed her head from side to side. She slicked back her curly dark hair.
“Both hands on the wheel,” Marlee admonished as another car whizzed past them on the dark and nearly deserted road.
“And speaking of all that,” Jeri added, “let’s get back to that question you’re avoiding. So, have you and that cute boyfriend of yours, uh, you know...done it?”
Marlee and her seventeen-year-old boyfriend, Bobby Sullivan, were both juniors in high school and everybody said they made the perfect couple. His strawberry blond hair complemented Marlee’s own lighter blond. Marlee’s mother called her hair the color of corn silk, but Marlee wasn’t sure she liked being compared to corn. She did agree with most people’s assessment of Bobby. He was good-looking. His stocky 5’ 10” build complemented Marlee’s lanky 5’ 6” frame. She’d met him three months earlier at a New Year’s Eve party and it had been instant like. Marlee liked the fact that Bobby played football, but she would have liked it better if he played baseball instead. And she would have liked it even better if they went to the same high school. Bobby went to nearby Southfork High School and he made the drive from Southfork to Clarksonville three or four times a week to see her. She liked that about him. Marlee’s mother liked him, too. “A very conscientious young man,” Marlee’s mother had called him.
Before Marlee could come up with some sort of answer to Jeri’s nosy question, Jeri added, “Dave pressured me after two weeks.”
“And...did you?”
“After two weeks? You gotta be kidding.”
“After how long?”
”Okay, now you’re twisting this so it’s about me.” Jeri poked her friend. “I believe we were talking about you.”
Marlee remained silent.
Jeri seemed to take the hint and asked, “Has Bobby seen my new car yet? He’s not gonna be the only one with a muscle car anymore. Mustangs are so much cooler than Camaros.” She flicked her wrist dismissively.
“No, I don’t think he’s—” Marlee flailed for the handle again as Jeri less than expertly maneuvered the car through a series of curves on the country road.
“You see how my car handles the curves?”
“Oh, my God, Jeri. Can you chill out?” Marlee reached for the fallen blanket. “At least slow down on the curves.”
Jeri slowed down but moped. “Fine. Fine. This from someone who doesn’t even have a driver’s license. And you could try to be a little impressed, ya know.”
“I am impressed. My best friend has a Mustang convertible. How cool is that? But who gets a graduation present in April anyway?” Marlee tugged on the sleeve of Jeri’s Clarksonville letterman jacket. “Tell your dad to buy me a Mustang next year when I graduate.”
“Oh, that’ll be the day.” Jeri took the thirty-mile-per-hour curve at forty-five. “But let’s get back to Bobby. So, has he?”
Marlee winced before she realized that Jeri was teasing.
“Has he seen my car?”
“Man, you have a one track mind. And, no, he hasn’t seen your car. You just got it yesterday. Besides, I’m not seeing Bobby until tomorrow night.”
“Ohhh,”
Jeri sing-songed knowingly, “and what are you two going to do all alone on a Saturday night, hmm?”
Marlee didn’t think she wanted to talk about something so personal, even with her best friend. Before Marlee could come up with a decent retort, Jeri said, “And how’d he ever let you come to a softball game on a sacred Friday night?”
“Well, first of all, he doesn’t own me.” Marlee glared at her friend. She dismissed the look of disbelief she thought she saw in her friend’s dark eyes. “I just told him it was ‘Girls’ Night Out’.”
“And he bought it?”
“Bought what? I told him I’d see him on Saturday ‘cause you and I needed to hang.”
Blinding light pierced the darkness. Obviously startled, Jeri jerked the steering wheel and two of the tires lurched onto the shoulder. A car, high beams on full blast, had appeared out of nowhere. Jeri eased the two tires back onto the road and slowed down to the actual speed limit. She continued as if nothing abnormal had just happened. “Well, it’s not like Bobby to let you go off on your own.”
Jeri’s voice had taken on a serious tone and Marlee couldn’t tell whether the sudden appearance of the car or their discussion about Bobby caused it. Jeri shrugged. “I just mean that you two are never apart on the weekends. Never.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I need some breathing room.”
Jeri looked at her friend with raised eyebrows.
Marlee continued, “Remember how we’d all go bowling or to the movies? Me and Bobby with you and Dave? I mean, we don’t do that anymore.”
Jeri shot her a hurtful look.
“No. I know you guys broke up and all, but what I mean is that Bobby and I don’t do stuff with anybody else anymore. All he wants to do is go to Lake Birch. And park. And...” Marlee hesitated but decided to finally answer her friend’s question. “Okay. We haven’t yet, but he wants to. The thing is I don’t know if I want to.”
“Oh,” Jeri said. “So you haven’t?”
“No!” Marlee snapped.
“Okay, okay. I’m just asking.” Jeri threw her hands back defensively.
“I know,” Marlee snarled. “You’ve been asking me all night.”
“Sorry, you’re my best friend. I’m supposed to know these things. I didn’t mean to get in your business.”
“That’s okay.” Marlee tried to lighten the mood. “We’re cool. And look, you’re leaving for college next year and I’m gonna be a senior all by myself so I’d rather be hangin’ with my best friend tonight and going to see some softball.” She pulled the blanket up around her neck and stuck out her lower lip.
“Oh, now who’s making a scary face? But, c’mon, I’m just going to Clarkson County CC and I’ll still be living at home and working at the restaurant.”
Marlee shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Community college isn’t really like you’re going away. But still.” She hugged the blanket tighter.
The two friends grew quiet as they reached the section of County Road 62, affectionately known as the “Oak Tunnel” by the locals. Overhanging branches from the thick oak forest met over the two-lane road creating an oddly square shaped tunnel that blocked out the sky. Marlee’s father had told her that the Boy Scouts squared up the trees every spring, but Marlee wasn’t ever sure if she should believe him. When she turned twelve years old, about a year after his death, she finally realized he had been kidding her the whole time and that passing trucks did the trimming when they ripped off low-hanging branches.
She smiled fondly at the memory, but snapped back to the present when she saw the turnoff sign for Sandstoner Fields. “Ahh, home of the mighty Panthers softball team.”
Jeri pulled into the parking lot. “Enemy territory. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Jeri pulled her brand new Mustang into a parking spot near the backstop. Marlee clutched the much-needed blanket as she stepped out of the sports car. In the North Country of upstate New York, so close to the Canadian border, April meant spring, but did not necessarily mean warm since April often brought snow. Snow that could even cancel softball games.
“Jeri, are you sure you want to park here?” Marlee gestured toward the playing field. “What if a foul ball hits your windshield?”
“She’s right, Jeri.” Both girls jumped at the voice from behind the Mustang. “You should probably park on the other side of the lot.” Their softball coach, Dottie Spears, walked up to them. “So, are my girls here to scout the Panthers?”
Coach Spears wasn’t intimidating physically with her petite build and short graying hair, but Marlee knew she could be a force to be reckoned with.
“Yeah, Coach,” Jeri said. “We’re scouting East Valley and Christy Loveland. We’re gonna find out their secrets so we can annihilate ’em on Tuesday.”
Coach Spears laughed. “Good thinking. I guess that’s why we’re here, too.” The “we” referred to their coach and the dark haired woman who stood by her side. The woman looked vaguely familiar to Marlee, but she couldn’t put her finger on who she was.
Marlee said, “And we’re not sitting on the home team side. We’re sitting on the visitors’ side.” She gestured toward the bleachers on the third base line. “No way I want anybody thinking we’re rooting for the Panthers.”
Coach Spears laughed again and grabbed the jacket sleeve of the woman with her. “I’m pretty sure everyone will know who you’re rooting against in two minutes.” The two older women turned to walk toward the first base side of the field. “But we’ll sit on the home team side just so we won’t cramp your style, okay?” Their Coach winked back at them.
Marlee and Jeri laughed. “Okay, Coach,” Marlee called after her, “but don’t go rooting for the Panthers. We’d have to question your loyalties.”
“Enjoy the game.” Coach Spears waved without looking.
“Bye, girls,” the dark haired woman called back.
“Marlee, I’m gonna move the car over there.” Jeri pointed to a remote area of the parking lot.
“Okay, I’ll see you in the bleachers.”
SOFTBALL IN THE New York State North Country comes at a time of the earth’s renewal, when brown turns to green, when creatures, human and non, emerge from hibernation. That would also prove true for Marlee. She certainly felt happiest when spring rolled around because spring meant softball. Blanket in hand, she made her way to the top of the sizeable bleachers. She spread the blanket on the cold metal and waited for Jeri.
Marlee inhaled the familiar smell of damp clay from the freshly watered infield. For Marlee, that smell was a sure sign of spring. She surveyed the Panthers’ softball facility and sighed with envy. The East Valley Panthers were a well funded team, unlike her own Clarksonville Cougar team that made do on next to nothing. The Panther infield was immaculately groomed, the outfield grass looked like a golf course, and the powerful stadium lights turned darkness into day. Each Panther dugout had its own water fountain, batting helmet cabinet, and bat rack. The fenced-in dugouts protected the players from foul balls and thrown bats. The Clarksonville field, on the other hand, had two weather-beaten benches, one for each team. Okay, there was a backstop, but the Clarksonville school district couldn’t seem to afford much more than that.
Just behind the left field fence, Christy Loveland warmed up in the makeshift bullpen. Maybe it should be called a cow pen instead. And Christy would be the cow. She giggled and couldn’t wait to tell Jeri that one. Christy was built like a cow, too. She was stocky with no neck to speak of, like a football player. But she could also throw like a rocket launcher. And as much as Marlee wanted to find a weakness in Christy’s pitching, she never could. In fact, it looked as if Christy’s pitches were popping already, even though this was the Panthers’ season opener. And our opener is Tuesday against this stupid team. How are we ever gonna beat them? Marlee sighed again as she simultaneously watched Christy warm up and Jeri bound up the bleachers. Jeri lit a cigarette.
“Jeri, what are you doing?” Marlee panicked. “Coach is
right over there.” She pointed furiously toward the home bleachers.
“Girl, I forgot. What a drag.” She giggled. “Drag, get it?” She crushed her cigarette out on the metal bleachers. “This sucks. I didn’t even get a good drag on it.” Jeri laughed again causing several people to turn their direction. Jeri jammed the cigarette pack into her jacket pocket and nodded toward their
coach. “Who’s that woman she’s with? She looks familiar.”
Marlee shrugged. “Yeah, she does.”
“Maybe they’re sisters, ya think?” Jeri tugged on Marlee’s jacket sleeve to indicate the women’s matching blue windbreakers.
Marlee agreed they could be sisters. After all, they kind of looked similar. Both had short hair like Marlee’s, although their coach’s hair was gray. And yes, Marlee observed, they wore matching windbreakers. An odd feeling crept into her stomach and she wasn’t sure why.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Jeri punched Marlee in the arm. “I know who she is. Pick me. Pick me.” Jeri, of course, didn’t wait to be picked. “She’s that umpire from last year’s Mohawk game. Right?”
Marlee looked again and remembered, “Oh, yeah. You're right. She's the one that called you out at home. We lost that game.”
“And I was safe.” Jeri jabbed at the air with her finger.
“I know. Remember how Coach had a fit? She yelled for three straight minutes. And I can’t believe she knows her. Oh, my God.”
“Think we should ask her about it at practice on Monday?”
Marlee didn’t think that was a good idea and said so, but she wasn’t sure why it was a bad idea. Before she had a chance to think about it, their attention was blessedly diverted to the softball field. They watched senior Christy Loveland stroll to home plate to meet with the umpires in the captains’ circle before the game. Christy looked intimidating compared to the smaller-framed captains from the visiting team.
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