by Meg Muldoon
Chapter 13
Lou Ulrich, the rotund, peach-shaped Christmas River police captain, scraped the dirt around home plate with the bottom of his cleats like a bull that just caught sight of a firetruck.
“You ready for this, Brightman?” Lou chided, checking his swing. “Because there’s still time to pull out if you wanna. What was it Clint Eastwood said to that bounty hunter in The Outlaw Josey Wales? ‘You know, this isn’t necessary. You could just ride off.’”
The guys in the Police Department Wildcats dugout let out a round of laughter at that.
It was the bottom of the ninth. Daniel was pitching, and the Sheriff’s Office was up by a single run. There was one runner at second, and two outs. All Daniel had to do was strike Lou out, and the Sheriff’s Office Lawmen would be home free, winning the annual showdown for the third year in a row.
“Are you gonna pull those pistols, or whistle Dixie?” Daniel retorted back to Lou without missing a step.
A round of oohs and awws snaked through the crowd.
Daniel’s knowledge of the classic Western shut Lou Ulrich up right quick. Lou, who I knew trash-talked only as a way to stall physical activity for as long as possible, raised his bat and stared dead ahead at Daniel on the mound.
“Oh, I’ve got more pistols than you can handle, Brightm—”
“That’s enough boys,” Harold interrupted in a frustrated tone. “I’m sick of all this talking. Let’s just finish the game out and get down to the Pine for a beer.”
For the last two innings, Harold had looked tired and bored and as if there was no other place he’d rather be than back at The Pine Needle Tavern, hiding behind the bar. Though Warren had stopped criticizing him from the stands on account of Aileen’s arrival, others in the crowd had been a little less sympathetic.
I stood up, grabbing a hold of the wire fence in front of me, peering at the field, my insides jumping around like popcorn in the microwave. Warren got up and stood beside me, dusting off the peanut shells from his shirt.
“Daniel has this,” he said. “I’d bet two rounds at The Pine on it.”
Daniel gripped the ball in his glove as he stood strong and tall. He stared straight ahead at Owen who signaled something. Daniel shook his head twice before finally nodding.
He glanced over at me for a split second before letting a ripper of a fastball fly. The ball hit Owen’s outstretched glove before Lou knew anything had happened.
“Strike!”
My heart jumped up in my chest. Warren started clapping.
“There ya go, son,” he shouted. “Just two more like that and the game’s all yours.”
“Pure luck, Brightman,” Lou said between gritted teeth. “But you know the funny thing about luck? It always runs out.”
Completely focused, Daniel didn’t even acknowledge Lou’s weak retort. He straightened his back and looked over his shoulder at the runner on second who was a few paces too far from base for his liking. He threw the ball to Trumbow, who was playing shortstop. The runner came back just in time.
“Enough stalling, Brightman,” Lou chided. “Let’s play the game!”
Daniel suddenly threw a hard low ball that Lou fell for hook, line, and sinker.
“Strike Two!”
The chain link fence in front of me buckled as more and more folks got up off the bleachers and pressed against it to get a better view of the nail-biter of a ninth.
Daniel threw a curve ball that dipped a little too much. Lou didn’t go for it, and Harold called a ball.
“Don’t sweat it kid!” Warren shouted. “You’re almost there!”
Daniel wiped away the dribble of sweat running down his temples, and he glanced back over his shoulder again at the runner.
Then he nodded at Owen. His eyes drifted toward me and locked for a split second before he launched his arm back and started to throw.
“Drutman!” Lou shouted suddenly.
Daniel’s throw came out wild. Lou capitalized on the opportunity. His bat met the ball with a ferocious crack. Before anyone knew it, the ball went flying high and far.
So far, in fact, that in a matter of seconds, it landed with a loud splash into the Christmas River, scaring off a few ducks that had been idly wallowing on the banks.
Lou Ulrich’s searing laughter rang out across the field as the boys on the Christmas River Police Department Wildcats whooped and hollered, running out of the dugout to meet their captain at the home plate.
“I tol’ you this wouldn’t be necessary,” Lou shouted to Daniel as he slowly circled the bases with all the speed of a bear stumbling out of its den in spring. “But you just had to go and draw on me.”
Daniel stood on the mound, looking like a heavyweight champion had just punched him in the gut.
I knew something about the feeling.
“No good cheating son of a…” I started mumbling, stopping short of what I really wanted to say on account of there being children within earshot.
Lou must have heard about what happened earlier that morning. He must have heard how Daniel almost came to blows with George Drutman. The pudgy police captain had played the game dirty, knowing just what it would take to break Daniel’s concentration and throw him off.
Lou finally made it to home base, where he jumped up and threw himself into the crowd of his teammates. He lifted his hands up like he’d just won the Pennant.
Huckleberry, who had been asleep at my feet for much of the game, started barking at them, as if he knew just how badly his owner had been wronged. Chadwick followed suit shortly after, and soon I had a full-scale dog riot on my hands.
The Sheriff’s Office Lawmen just stood around, all of them looking stunned.
Warren shook his head angrily.
“Scoundrel,” he said. “That’s a low and dirty way to win, right there.”
I didn’t have to say anything for him to know that I agreed.
I watched as Daniel rubbed away the sweat from beneath his cap. He finally gathered up his team and told them all what a great job they did.
Then he went over to Lou and shook the scoundrel’s hand.
“Good game, Lou,” he said.
Lou grinned wildly, as if he’d won the game merely through hard work and athleticism.
“That’s just how the cards line up sometimes,” Lou said, slapping Daniel on the back. “No hard feelings though, right?”
“No.”
Daniel didn’t say anything more to him. He just grabbed his gear bag, then walked on over to Warren and me.
He looked defeated.
Chapter 14
The July sun spouted its last dying rays over the mountains, causing the meadow in front of us to burst into magnificent hues of gold.
“I had that bastard,” Daniel said, leaning forward in the Adirondack chair. “I knew exactly how he was going to swing on that one. I had his number. But I just couldn’t…”
He trailed off, the bitter sting of defeat burning brightly in every word.
For someone as competitive as Daniel, losing a ball game, even one that was a friendly fundraiser, wasn’t a small thing. Despite my teasing about his age, he still had one hell of an arm. Losing against someone as unskilled and immature as Lou Ulrich wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.
I ran a hand through his matted, messy hair, then placed another icy cold IPA into his hands.
“I know you had him, hon,” I said.
I took a seat next to him, and we watched as the golden meadow started fading into shades of sepia. In the tall grass, Huckleberry and Chadwick were playing with each other, growling happily as they tussled. The two of them were good buddies now, and despite the difference in their temperaments and size, they could hardly be pulled away from each other without throwing a fit.
Daniel and I sat in silence for a little while, admiring the beautiful view that never failed to impress.
I took a sip of my beer. It was a batch Warren and Aileen had brewed up as a test run for their Bart the Trout IPA.
It was heavy on Northwest hops and strong in the alcohol department. Each sip had a way of making me smile – it was Warren’s kind of brew through and through.
Daniel finally rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head.
“Hell, let’s talk about something else,” he said, as if he’d been carrying the baseball conversation on internally throughout the silence. “How was your day, Cin?”
“It was good” I said. “We closed at one because we ran out of pie.”
“You don’t say,” Daniel said.
I nodded.
“It seems like we have to close earlier and earlier lately,” I said. “So many folks are stopping by.”
“Sounds like you could use some more employees.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You know what Kara thought, too?”
“What?”
“She thought that I needed to expand the store,” I said. “And she has a point. We need more ovens and more dining space if these crowds are going to keep up.”
I was about to mention what Kara said about opening up another location, too, in Portland, but then I stopped myself.
That was a bridge we would have to cross when and if we ever got there.
I glanced over to see his reaction. His face remained unchanged, and he took a sip of beer before looking over at me.
“That’s not such a bad idea to expand the store,” he said. “Word’s gotten out, and it seems all those hipster tourists outta Portland are descending upon the shop in droves.”
I did my best to keep from laughing.
“And what would the cowboy hat-wearing Sheriff of Pohly County know about hipsters?” I said.
“Am I not drinking high-quality, handcrafted beer that’s made right here in the heart of Oregon by artisans?” he responded, holding up his bottle. “I thought that’s what hipsters did. Support local. I mean, you don’t see me drinking Bud Light here.”
“No, but I don’t see you with a thick beard and tapered jeans neither.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he said, smiling. “Anyway, I think expanding Cinnamon’s Pies might take a lot of time and effort, but it’d probably be worth it.”
“It’d be a lot of work,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, but we could do it,” he said. “We’d make it happen, Cin.”
I smiled.
I loved how he’d said “we” there, taking on the pie shop as a responsibility equal in importance to keeping the streets of Christmas River safe.
I drained the rest of the beer before looking off into the distance, my mind already racing with the logistics of an expansion. I wouldn’t be able to do anything on it until the tourist season was through. Money would be an issue, too. But in the meantime, I could hire a few more employees and I could start—
“So you saw Kara today?” Daniel asked, cutting through my meandering thoughts.
“That I did.”
“How’s the Billings clan doing?”
“Oh, they’re doing real good,” I said. “Laila cries a lot. Kara said some babies just cry more than others. And I guess Laila’s finding a lot to wail over lately.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Kara said sometimes putting her in the car and going for a ride is the only way to get her to stop,” I said. “So poor Kara’s up at three in the morning most days, driving around the dark streets of Christmas River half-asleep, trying to get Laila to quit her bawling.”
Daniel laughed.
“I’m surprised we didn’t see her this morning when we were headed over to the campgrounds,” he said.
“Two ships passing in the night, I guess,”
“Does Kara still seem overwhelmed with all of it?”
I shrugged.
“Who wouldn’t be? But all things considered, I think she’s got a pretty good handle on it,” I said. “She seems exhausted. And it’s pretty weird always seeing her in sweat pants. But she seems real happy, you know? I think motherhood suits her.”
Daniel smiled.
“Hmm,” he said, looking down and peeling at the label on his beer.
There was a long, pregnant pause. I knew Daniel wanted to say something. Only, it seemed he couldn’t find the words, or maybe he couldn’t find the right way of phrasing it.
I knew what he was grappling with. But I found that I didn’t have any words either.
After a moment, when he finally gave up, I found myself relieved. He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance.
“We really should have won today,” he said, shaking his head. “That loss was on me and nobody else. I let Lou get the best of me.”
His expression had settled into a downcast, self-defeating look that kind of broke my heart a little.
I put down my empty beer bottle and placed a hand on the one he’d been resting on my thigh.
“You know what though?” I said.
“What?”
“You might have lost,” I said. “But this girl’s crush on that cute pitcher? It’s only gotten worse.”
The edges of his mouth turned up slightly as he shot me a low, sideways glance. He took a sip of his beer.
“I find that hard to believe,” he said. “That defeat wasn’t exactly the stuff dreams are made of, now was it.”
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“On the contrary,” I said. “That pitcher took the loss like a man. You know what it must have taken for him to go over there and shake that trash-talking cheater’s hand?”
“I think I might have some idea,” he said.
He smiled, the kind of smile like he was trying to fight it but just couldn’t. Then he stood up and held out his hand to me.
“If I remember correct, I think I promised that girl with the crush a thing or two earlier,” he said. “And I intend to keep my word.”
I slipped my hand into his and stood up.
“That’s right,” I said. “You were going to show me some more of your old dude moves. But I’m just worried that the old dude might be too tired. He’s had a long day, after all.”
Daniel grinned brightly, kissing the bridge of my nose. Then he picked me up so abruptly that before I knew it, I was off the ground, my legs dangling over his arms.
“I’m never too tired for you, darlin,’” he said. “And you won’t be calling me ‘old dude’ soon enough.”
I laughed as he carried me inside.
Chapter 15
There was something special about being alone in the pie shop kitchen at five in the morning.
Yes – it was a damn sight early. And yes, I was tired. But something about being all by myself there, with the Christmas lights dancing around the walls, the smell of flaky pie crust drifting from the oven, and just the silent crooning of Van Morrison to keep me company… all of it reminded me of why I continued to work so hard and spend the majority of my waking hours in this place.
Today was the Fourth of July, and I knew that I was sitting in the calm before the storm. In just a few hours, a tidal wave of tourists, in town for the parade and fireworks, would come baring down on my humble little pie shop, and all of us would be up to our ears in work. And that was only going to be the first part of my day. I’d also pledged my waitressing skills to help Warren and Aileen with the grand opening of Geronimo Brewing Co. later that evening.
If I was lucky, I wouldn’t be able to feel my feet at all tomorrow. If I wasn’t, it’d take days before the pain subsided.
It was going to be a hell of a long day – no doubt about it. But for the time being, all of that felt like a long ways away from my peaceful and calm little corner of the world. Right now all I had to worry about was peeling a few pounds of peaches for the Blueberry Peach pies and keeping an eye on the Moundful Marionberry pies in the oven.
After a few moments of stripping away the fruit skins, I took a break from peeling, and poured myself another cup of hazelnut coffee.
I smiled to myself as the night before crossed my mind.
Years had pass
ed. Daniel and I had seen our share of ups and downs. We’d come through hardships and tough times. We’d weathered storms that would have torn apart and destroyed the most steadfast of relationships.
But somehow, someway, my love for Daniel Brightman only seemed to grow deeper and more fervent with each passing day.
I hadn’t expected it to be that way. When I was married to Evan, that most certainly was not how our marriage had gone. When I had been with him, I had loved him, but our years together hadn’t done any favors for our relationship. They hadn’t made us stronger – they’d made us weaker. And if I was being honest with myself, even if he hadn’t cheated on me, even if he’d remained faithful throughout our marriage, it probably would have ended the same way anyway: with two signatures on a piece of paper and a division of the assets.
But with Daniel, it was a completely different story. We still had arguments and our share of issues. But the passage of time only made us stronger. More together. More passionate about each other.
I could honestly say that on this quiet, calm, and beautiful July morning, I was more in love with Daniel Brightman than ever before.
And everybody, including myself, knew what the next logical step for our relationship would be.
It was the next logical step for any couple in their thirties.
But it was one that I was having a tough time coming to terms with.
Daniel and I hadn’t ever had a real conversation about it. Not exactly, anyway. There had been that lovely night walking home last winter when he’d hinted that it was a discussion he was ready to have. And at the time, I thought it would be one I was ready to have too.
But since then, I’d been doing some thinking on the topic. In fact, I couldn’t stop thinking about the topic after seeing Kara go through all that she’d gone through in the last year with doctor visits and sweat pants and baby diapers.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want children – because I did. I did, with my whole heart. And in that same spirit, there was nothing I wanted more than to start a family with the love of my life.
But there was something… something inside of me. A feeling, an urge. A little voice whispering the words wait and not yet.
