by Susan Crosby
She jumped up. “What?”
“Yep.” He looked out over the field thoughtfully, then zeroed in on her, taking a long look at her standing there, flustered beyond speech. “A couple of ’em. One’s for when you go out in public together for the first time. One’s for when you get engaged.”
She couldn’t speak. They’d been so careful, too. Damn June Adams. She had to be the source of it all.
“Cat got your tongue, Melina?”
“It’s too ridiculous to comment on.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you sprang out of your seat like a rocket, and your face is bright red.” He cocked his head. “How’s that saying go? The lady protests too much?”
She fumed silently, needing to protect her own image, but also protecting Elliot, whose future was in Beau’s hands today. Today, of all days, wasn’t the time to irritate him.
His grin was wide and leisurely. “By the way, I’ve invested in both pools, but I picked the same day for them to happen. Tomorrow. Don’t let me down, okay?” He touched the brim of his cap and strode back out to where the team was gathered, waiting for him to fire his opening salvo about this being the last practice, the last chance to ask questions or improve a skill.
Melina made herself calm down enough to watch the practice, because it was the most important one of Elliot’s young career. She found herself holding her breath as each grounder came toward him. He missed all of them.
Come on, Elliot, shine. Please shine, she urged him silently. Rafe seemed sure that he would make the team, but Melina thought Beau was a loose cannon, given to overreaction and delusions of grandeur. So she sat in the dugout, knees bouncing, fingers laced and numb from squeezing, her heart lodged in her throat.
Elliot got up to bat four times, connecting three times, and openly unhappy at himself for missing the fourth, drawing the gazes of the other kids by kicking the dirt and muttering to himself. However, Rafe called Elliot’s name then gave him a run of hand signals, and he straightened his shoulders and went to stand next to his teammates waiting to bat, encouraging them by clapping, as the rest of the boys did.
Tears filled her eyes. How far he’d come. How very far. And it was all thanks to Rafe. She couldn’t take any credit, nor could Beau as coach. Everything Elliot had learned about baseball, except for hitting, had come from Rafe.
Melina finally relaxed, her thoughts heading in a different direction. She wondered if Rafe knew about the bets.
She also wondered how many people had actually put money on them. She wished she found it funny, but mostly it was humiliating. Especially if she and Rafe didn’t work things out—which looked more like a possibility now than it had before the practice started. Why hadn’t he called and let her know he wouldn’t be meeting her in the parking lot?
A total change in routine generally meant something.
As the practice wrapped up, Melina started winding up again, too. She was irritated at Rafe and annoyed at Beau—well, the whole town, actually, or at least those who’d placed bets on her and Rafe’s hearts. Because that was what was happening—people were betting on whether or not she and Rafe would find love again—or break each other’s hearts again.
Practice ended. She joined the team and coaches for their final pep talk. After, Beau pulled Rafe aside and said something privately to him. Rafe shook his hand, then started walking to the parking lot, inviting her along with his gaze.
“Elliot’s all set for the big game tomorrow,” Rafe said.
She wanted to whoop, jump and do the happy dance, but she couldn’t, since Elliot hadn’t known he might not be allowed to play. Nor could she hug him, because that kind of physical contact made him squirm.
“I’m looking forward to the game myself,” she said. “Elliot, you’ve worked really hard. I’m so proud of you.”
He grinned. They reached the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?” she asked Rafe, trying to keep her cool.
“At home. I walked. Needed to blow off steam.”
“And you didn’t think to let me know of your change?” Okay, maybe she wasn’t being so cool now.
He raised his brows. “It didn’t occur to me. You found us.”
“You always wait. Or I wait. We go together.”
“I’m sor—”
“Did you know people have placed bets on us?” she asked, interrupting his apology, everything coming to a head for her.
He glanced at Elliot, who’d turned around and gave them a worried look. “I did hear that, yes,” Rafe said quietly.
“You knew? And you didn’t bother to tell me? How could you not tell me? I found out from Beau, of all—”
“Stop it,” Elliot said, putting his hands over his ears. “Stop yelling.”
She hadn’t been yelling. In fact, her voice was barely raised, but he, like many Asperger’s kids, got sensory overload quickly, especially from sound. And especially when that sound was an argument, not a cheer.
He didn’t wait for her apology but raced ahead to where his mother waited in the parking lot.
“What’s wrong?” Debbie asked as Elliot stormed past her to climb right into the car and jerk the door shut. “Was there a problem? Did he not make—” She put a hand to her mouth.
“He’s in,” Rafe said immediately. “He made it. Melina and I were having a disagreement, and he got uncomfortable. I apologize.”
“Me, too,” Melina said. “It had nothing to do with Elliot, or even baseball. All my fault.”
“Heavens, Melina.” Debbie hugged her hard. “He hears us argue. It’s another life lesson.”
“Well, he needs to hear people apologize, too,” Melina said, then opened the car door. He was already buckled in and staring out the windshield. “I’m sorry I raised my voice, Elliot. I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable.”
He gave her a quick glance. “It’s okay.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow for the game. Would you mind if my family come? And probably Rafe’s? Everyone would like to cheer your team on.”
He thought about it for a few seconds. “That would be okay.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” She closed the door.
“Big day tomorrow,” Debbie said.
“A very big day. He’s ready,” Rafe said.
Debbie hugged them both. “Thank you so much.” She waved, hopped in the car and drove off.
“I’m sorry you were worried,” Rafe said right away. “But, really, Melina, don’t you think you overreacted?”
Of course she had. Her emotions were bubbling, her thinking not clear. Overreacting was par for the course under those circumstances. But she didn’t like how paternal he’d just sounded, either.
Plus, she should’ve been on his mind. When it came down to it, that was what bothered her most.
“I can see where you might think that,” she said, lifting her chin.
He smiled. “We’re at an impasse about this. Can we just let it go?”
She didn’t want to let it go. She should’ve been on his mind! But before she could find a point to argue, he said, “You’ve been at all the practices. What do you think? Is Elliot ready?”
“Skillwise, I know he still has a lot to learn, which he will. But it’s his self-control that’s impressed me. What were the gestures you made when he was about ready to blow his top?”
“A reminder to calm down. I discovered he loves when the coaches give their run of hand signals when they’re at bat. The more complicated, the better. He learned them faster and more consistently than the other boys, frankly. I added a couple just for him, but I bury them in decoy signals just for fun.”
She clamped her mouth shut and contemplated him for a few long seconds. “Do you ever do anything wrong, Rafe?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a simple question. You never seem to make a misstep. You say the right things. You sacrifice for a boy you don’t know. You take care of your father.”
He leaned close
. “I make love pretty well, too.”
She caught fire just from his words and the way he said them. “You’re not exactly humble.”
“See? Not perfect. My fatal flaw. Are you happy now?”
No. No, she wasn’t happy. She’d thought she was getting there last night, but now she felt miserable. You forgot about me, she wanted to shout at him, but he’d already decided it was no big deal. Trying to convince him that it was a big deal would be useless. As far as he was concerned, they’d broken up. He wasn’t obligated to do anything for her.
Disheartened at the thought, she said, “I should get going.”
“Me, too.” He was entirely too cheerful. “See you.”
Off he went, leaving her with her teeth clenched and her irritation still brewing. So this was how it was going to be with them? He no longer sees when she’s upset? And she gets upset easily?
This would require some thinking on her part.
She headed for her car then spotted Beau on his way to the office building. “Beau! Wait up.”
She reached him quickly. “I just wanted to thank you for including Elliot on the team. It means a lot to all of us.”
He lifted his cap and scratched his head. “Well, Melina, I don’t think the boy’s up to speed, but I can’t fight city hall, you know? I’ve got a lot on the line here. I couldn’t afford the press.”
“What do you mean, you can’t fight city hall? What press?”
“Rafe left you out of the loop? Well, isn’t that interesting. Okay, then, I’m happy to tell you. He threatened me with a civil suit if I didn’t leave the boy on the team. I can’t afford a lawsuit, financially or professionally.” He walked away, then turned back. “Rafe’s got the kid under control, so you can sit in the stands during the game, if you want, instead of the dugout—or don’t even show up, if you don’t want to.”
He left, his stride taking him a long distance in a brief time, as she stood watching him, thinking about what he’d said. When had Rafe threatened him? Yet another thing he hadn’t discussed with her.
She got in her car and headed home, then spotted him walking down Main. She pulled over, lowered the window. “Want a ride?”
“I’m good, thanks.” He kept walking so that she had to move slowly alongside him.
“I’d like to talk to you, Rafe.”
“You’re just going to chew me out. I’ll pass.”
She frowned. Today was the first time she’d been openly angry at him. She didn’t think it was fair for him to act as if it was something she did all the time.
“I have things to tell you,” she called out to him. “Need to tell you. Especially about my grandfather.”
“I figured it out. It doesn’t matter, Melina. Nothing from the past matters.”
Blood drained from her head so that she was a little dizzy, because it did matter to her. The past and the present mattered.
And certainly the future.
When a car honked behind her, she picked up speed, but she didn’t go home. Instead she drove to his home and pulled in the driveway. She was sitting on his front porch when he came up.
He eyed her, took out his keys and unlocked the door without saying anything, although he did leave the door open.
“I haven’t seen your house yet,” she said, following him inside, but he was already out of sight. She followed sounds until she found him in the kitchen, his head in the refrigerator.
He tossed her a Coke, got a second one for himself. “Want some chips and salsa?” he asked.
“Sure.” She sat at the counter, popped open her soda and took a sip. His kitchen was gorgeous, all stainless steel and granite, maple cabinets and beautiful tile.
“What do you think?” he asked, setting bowls on the counter, taking the seat beside her.
“Money well spent.”
He clinked cans with her and took a long drink, then set down the can. “So.”
“So?”
“You have things to say, I guess.”
He seemed amused. And calm. And…tolerant. “Gramps admitted—”
“In the past. Choose another topic,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “Beau told me you threatened him with a lawsuit.”
“I did. Next question?”
Meaning, that was all he would say on the matter. Actually, Melina kind of admired him for that. He’d dealt with a situation that needed to be dealt with. Action did speak louder than words.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the betting pool?” she asked.
“I figured it would tick you off.”
“You decided I didn’t need to know something that…infamous about myself?”
“I found out the day after we’d broken things off. I figured it wouldn’t be relevant.”
“After you’d broken things off,” she said.
“I stand corrected.”
She couldn’t get a handle on him. He didn’t seem happy she was there, but he also didn’t seem angry. She finally just ran out of steam. He hadn’t responded in a way that furthered their conversation. Now she was stuck sitting at his kitchen counter with nothing to say. She dipped a chip in some salsa and ate, the crunch sounding cannon-fire loud. So did he. They went through the bowl of chips without conversation. Then she was at a loss.
“I guess I should go,” she said.
“Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
She still couldn’t figure out his mood. He hadn’t touched her, but hadn’t given her the cold shoulder, either. “Yes, I would, thanks.”
The tour didn’t take long. He hadn’t invested in dining room furniture yet, and had only a few pieces in the living room, wanting to wait until they’d finished repairing, staining and painting. His home office held only a desk and chair.
Upstairs, two bedrooms were empty and in sore need of fresh paint and window coverings. Another bedroom was furnished so that his father could stay overnight. Then came the master bedroom, which was remodeled and spectacular, the headboard tall and hand carved, the bedding colorful and inviting.
“I tore down the wall between this room and a bedroom beside it to make the master bath and walk-in closet,” he said, letting her peek into both spaces. “Come see the view out the back window.”
From there she could take in his entire backyard, a sprawling mess.
“I’ve lined up a crew to relandscape,” he said. “They start next week. But picture this—a big deck with built-in barbecue right off the house. A swimming pool and spa over there. Lots of lawn.”
“A place for a vegetable garden?” she asked. “And a dog or two?”
“It wouldn’t be a home without them.”
If Melina stayed in his bedroom for one more minute she would haul him off to his king-size bed and have her way with him.
He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting I need to get ready for.”
Just like that her decision was made. Or rather, taken away. She should be grateful, but…
“I’ll see you at the game tomorrow,” she said, even though the words hurt as they dragged along her throat. He’d been able to turn off the attraction switch way too easily.
They walked downstairs together. He opened the front door, held it as she passed by him. He didn’t follow her to the car, but also didn’t shut the door until she’d backed out and waved goodbye.
If his intention had been to let her know he was over her, he’d succeeded. He’d been nice—a horrible word, in this case. He’d invited her in, gave her food and drink, took her on a tour, then sent her on her way, all of it done in a nice, polite way.
She’d never been more discouraged in her life.
Sometimes what was broken couldn’t be fixed—like this relationship. Giving up was foreign to her, but it looked as though she had to. He hadn’t wanted to hear any details about Gramps. He’d already given up.
And there was no changing Rafe Mendoza’s mind once it was made up.
Chapter Sixteen
The last d
ay of March brought beautiful spring weather, the perfect start for the new baseball season. Seeing the stands filling up, Melina was torn between sitting in the dugout or on the benches with everyone else.
In the end, she was honest with herself, deciding that Elliot wouldn’t care whether she was in the dugout or not. Plus the view was better from the stands.
People wandered into the complex, carrying hot dogs and popcorn, licorice and churros, the scents mingling in the air, adding to the excitement. Melina sat with Elliot’s anxious parents. Soon her family arrived, then Rafe’s father and brothers. Everyone who’d had a hand in helping Elliot had made time to come and support him.
His team, the Orioles, took the field to much applause and whoops, the boys acting cool, as if they didn’t hear the cheering, and looking sharp in their brand-new uniforms and caps. Melina pressed a hand to her stomach.
“Me, too,” her mother said, doing the same thing.
“Me, three,” Elliot’s mother said, laughing.
Melina already knew Elliot wouldn’t play in the field until the fifth inning of the six-inning game, but every boy was in the batting lineup from the be ginning to the end of the game. He would hit in the fourth spot, cleanup, which meant Beau counted on him to get base hits, to bring in the players on base ahead of him.
It was a lot of pressure. Elliot knew what hitting fourth meant.
The game started. Elliot stood at the chain-link fence of the dugout, watching, calling out support, with Rafe beside him, doing the same. There were hits and strikeouts, great throws and errors, shoe string catches and dropped balls. The sun was in the eyes of the left and center fielders, causing missed catches, missed opportunities. Nerves showed. Coaches encouraged but also used errors as a time for instruction.
Elliot came up to bat, swung at the first pitch and missed. He looked for Rafe on the sidelines, got his it’s-okay signal and stepped back into the batter’s box. He hit the next ball over the shortstop’s head, driving in the base runner at third to score, the stands exploding as people jumped up and hollered.
The game moved along, one team leading, then the other. Twice more Elliot came to the plate, getting two more singles, two more runs batted in. He went out to right field in the fifth inning but never had a ball hit to him.
