by Joanne Pence
But it wasn't pathetic. It was noble. He was like a Roman gladiator who'd aged and slowed and had fought and won too many great fights, but wouldn't give up, even though he knew he wouldn't survive this last challenge. His pride wouldn't let him give up, nor his beliefs, nor his courage.
Courage...determination...spirit...in the face of overwhelming odds. Heroic. That was Tony. Yes! That was the man she'd portray in her film.
She leaned back in the chair, weary, but feeling a little better, a bit more hopeful. She knew the tack she wanted to take. She only hoped she had the ability, the pure talent, to weave the story and the emotion together so that the viewer would understand and sympathize. With Tony, with Ben, and yes, even with Catherine, the woman who decided, perhaps a bit too late, that she did want to be a "mom."
Night after night, she stayed at the studio, working with the tapes of Tony, as well as home videos of Little League games that parents in Miwok had given her, and the footage that had been shot of Ben in Beverly Hills. She edited the sound on tape, the B-roll of background scenery and noise, then wrote a script and made a track of it.
Slowly, as Lee put the pieces together into one final tape, the package was complete. She was pleased by it. Her fear that it would backfire with the public had been put aside. True, the public was fickle, but thirteen years as a newscaster had taught her how to slant the news anyway she wanted and have the public think it was getting the unvarnished truth. Journalism, especially TV journalism, was a lot more about propaganda than anyone wanted to admit to.
Late Monday night, Tony phoned her. He was no longer in Arizona, but back in Miwok. His 'hello' was so subdued she barely recognized his voice. "How are you doing?" she asked.
"I've been better."
"Coaching?"
"Hell, I stunk up the place. My only hope is there's some near-sighted major league manager out there who's really desperate."
"I’m sorry," she murmured.
"I called about the show you were working on, the one about Ben," he said quickly. "My custody hearing is Thursday. You aren’t still going through with Ben’s story, are you?"
She drew in her breath. "Of course I am. It will air on One Hour Report tomorrow night."
"Shit. Can you pull it?"
"Pull it? Why?"
"It’s a bad idea. Catherine’s furious. Her lawyers are howling. I don’t want to deal with it."
"I've seen these things work before. My own reaction is that the piece came out really well. It doesn’t show you doing everything perfectly. Trying to get back into baseball at age thirty-six isn’t easy, and the camera shows just how hard it is for you."
"So on top of everything else, I get to look like a jerk on national TV."
"You look...wonderful."
His shock at her words came through the phone lines, even though he didn’t reply. She guessed he didn't know what to say to that, and neither did she. But she'd told him the truth.
"Don’t show it, Lisa."
She bit her bottom lip a moment. "It's a good story."
"I’ve changed my mind about it."
"Don’t worry. It’ll be fine."
"Lisa..."
"It’s too late, Tony."
"I don’t want to chance it!"
"I’m sorry."
"Damn it, will you listen to me. I don’t want the goddamned thing on the air. We’re talking about my son."
"I know what I’m doing, Tony."
"You fucking well better!" He hung up.
Her heart pounded. She would show it, no matter what Tony or anyone else said. She was proud of the segment. She felt as if she’d devoted her life, her dreams, her youth, everything, to her career. In this segment, though, she felt as if she’d gotten back, a little bit at least, of her soul.
o0o
Tuesday, she nearly collapsed from nervousness. What if she was wrong and Tony was right? What if the segment made it even harder for him to get Ben back. Who was she to interfere? Or to open herself up this way?
She'd never done anything so nostalgic or emotional before. She was letting people see a whole new side of her. Would they laugh? She’d lectured Tony on not being afraid to show himself openly. She needed to take her own advice--let Lee Reynolds’s heart show, for a single ten minute segment.
For the first time since One-Hour Report began, her legs felt wooden as she walked to the staged TV set. To viewers, it looked like a large, expensive chamber. In fact, it was about eight feet across and plywood. Cameras aimed at her, lights blared white hot. Aaron Josephs kept giving her odd looks as if pleading with her to loosen up. She couldn’t. When the show began, her hands shook so badly she had to fold them and keep them on her lap or anyone would have known that there was something terribly wrong. Somehow, she got through the first forty-five minutes of the show. Jake Metcalf leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly as he conversed with his two assistants.
Although the segment break seemed endless, at the same time, hearing the producer’s voice in her earpiece giving the ten-second countdown to show time made her jump with nervousness. Coming up was her segment. Hers alone. Josephs sat back and watched along with hundreds of thousands of viewers.
The commercial ended. The camera light came on.
Looking into the lens, Lee Reynolds sat poised and self-assured. She smiled and took a deep breath as she read the teleprompter. "Hot dogs, peanuts, and baseball. What could be more American? Today, the popularity of baseball has reached new heights. From sandlots to major league diamonds, more people than ever before are playing and watching the sport. For many, organized baseball begins with Little League. And for some, it's more than just a game..."
The tape rolled.
[Wide-angle short of California coast hills, small town nestled in valley, zoom in for close up.]
This is Miwok California.
[Street scenes of Old Town, using rose tinted filters. Quiet streets, kids on bikes, casual, slow paced.]
Located just thirty miles north of San Francisco, Miwok has been spared most of the hubbub, turmoil and strife of the city and its surrounding Bay Area communities like Oakland and Berkeley. Instead, the residents of Miwok live a quiet, safe existence, much as they did many years ago.
[Park scene, kids playing baseball.]
In this town, Little League flourishes. Ben Santos is the shortstop on a team called the Bruins....
[Camera zooms in on Ben standing between second and third base, staring hard at the batter.]
Against the background of a Little League game, Lee's voice-over quickly described Ben’s family situation--the custody trial and the decision that Ben would live with his mother, and visit his father, former major-league player Tony Santos, four weeks each year. The large, white-pillared, formal house of Ben's mother and new step-father, Dr. Graham Durelle, was shown. The house stood in stark contrast to shots presenting the casual ambiance of the Circle Z and the Little League game.
[Cut to video of Tony and Ben together at Little League game.]
Tony Santos gave up his career to raise his child in the best way he knew how. He isn't sure what caused the judge to take his son away from him. He doesn't know if it's because he's a single father who never remarried, or because his small ranch doesn't bring as much profit in a year as Dr. Graham Durelle makes in a month performing p1astic surgery for the rich and famous, or—and he personally doubts this—if it was simply a cage of ugly, old-fashioned prejudice against the son of a Mexican ranch hand.
[Scenes of Tony diving for halls, colliding with the catcher at home plate, standing in the batter's box.]
He believes that if he can become involved in baseball, perhaps as a coach this time, instead of just a small horse rancher from a tiny town called Miwok, he might have a chance of winning Ben back. So he practices long hours, and hopes for a miracle.
[Scene of Tony striking out at the plate.]
But baseball is a game in which miracles do happen.
[Scene of Ben hitting a homerun and run
ning the bases.]
And spring training is a time for growth, a time for change, and a time for hope.
[Scene of Ben sitting on front steps of enormous Durelle mansion holding a baseball. He tosses his baseball into the air and catches it, over and over. The camera pulls back and the image of Ben becomes smaller and smaller as the scene fades.]
The tape ended. The light on the camera aimed at Lee flashed on. She blinked, then released her clenched fingers, and, unsmiling, faced the camera. "This is Lee Reynolds in New York," she said, her voice throaty. "Good night."
As the camera switched off, the released tension of the live show broke loose. People laughed and shouted at each other and the dismantling of the set began.
Her co-host, Aaron Josephs, shook her hand heartily for the Little League piece, while several women who worked the Kyron and other equipment came over and told her how moved they were by Ben's story.
Jake stopped her as she was going to take off her make-up. "You better watch out, Lee."
"What?" She was shocked. Had the complaints begun already? "What do you mean?"
"Any more schlocky pieces like that and you're going to have to turn in your Ms. Hard-ass badge. Good work!"
He strode off down the hall, leaving Lee gaping at him in astonishment.
o0o
That night, when she got home, her answering machine was filled with messages from friends and colleagues, as well as Miriam, Cheryl and others in Miwok telling her the piece about Ben was beautiful and touching.
The accolades continued the next day. Scenes from the film kept playing over and over again in her mind. Miwok had put on its best face for the film crew. It looked beautiful. So green, so many flowers, the broad oaks, the bays, the weeping willows, the colorful gardens.
Only one thing marred her happiness. Despite all the congratulations, the one reaction she most wanted, didn’t come. She received no word from Tony.
Chapter 29
Tony Santos appeared at the courthouse Thursday morning. Vic was with him. The day after the airing of the One Hour Report segment, Tony had received an offer from a minor league team to be a coach. He had three days to give them his decision. He was thankful the offer gave him something definite to tell the judge. If it meant keeping Ben, he'd coach the Devil himself.
Tony had brought some evidence regarding Ben’s wishes to offer the judge. He had a stack of letters from his son. One, in particular, he hoped the judge would read. It was the reason Tony had gone back to baseball.
He ran his fingers over the small packet of pencil smeared envelopes. He lifted a letter out, the one post marked November 10th, opened it, and skimmed it once more. Ben wrote that his mother was being quite nice to him, and Dr. Durelle was as well. He had lots of games and toys, and he got to ride in a Mercedes to school and back each day. But then he asked about his horse, Evening Star, and about the ranch, and his best friend, Zach, and his room, and his old toys...."She's nice to me, Dad," Tony's gaze slowed as he neared the end of the letter, "and I think she's trying real hard to make me happy. But this isn't home. She says it is, but it isn't, and you're not here. I miss you. Sometimes I even cry. I know nine year olds aren't supposed to cry, but I can't help it. I hope you don't think I'm a baby. I just want to come home. Can't you do something? Please, Dad, I don't like it here. Tell Star not to forget me, okay? I love you. Ben."
Tony stared at the letter a long moment, then, his lips in a grim line, he carefully refolded it and tucked it back into its envelope.
Ben had also sent a couple of letters to Vic, and Tony had those with him as well. Ben asked Vic to be sure to take care of Tony, much to Tony's amusement and heartache. He'd never realized his son worried about him; he had thought only fathers did that.
He'd gotten a number of calls about Lisa's show on Ben, telling him how much the callers admired what he was trying to do, and expressing how bad they felt about the custody fight. One aspect of the show, though, embarrassed him. He wasn't being half so noble in going back to baseball again as the show made him out to be. He loved baseball. It had been his life as far back as he could remember. To be out there again, to smell the clean air and pine tar, to feel the smooth, warm leather of the glove, the springy grass under his feet, to have the camaraderie of the other players, were things he loved. He was grateful to realize that some teams still wanted his help, even if it was as a scout or a coach and no longer as a position player. And yet, to realize he couldn't play well any longer, to come face to face with his own aging and mortality, that part was painful.
Etched forever in his memory, too, was that last scene of Ben, tossing his baseball and looking so alone as he sat on the stone steps in front of that enormous house. That image of his son bolstered Tony's determination to do all he could to get Ben back, and for that he applauded Lisa's program even more.
His attorney rushed down the corridor toward him, a big smile on the man's face. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Santos," Manning said, "but I was on the phone with Mrs. Durelle's lawyer. Good news. Mrs. Durelle is dropping her case."
Tony slowly rose to his feet. "What did you say?"
"You've won. All they're asking is that the joint custody stand so that Catherine will continue to have some say in her son's upbringing, and that you let Ben spend some time each summer with her. Other than that, he'll live, full time, with you."
"I don't get it. Is this a trick?"
"Apparently not. It seems a number of Dr. Durelle's associates, friends, and patients were not pleased with his wife's behavior, both the way she abandoned her son when he was an infant, and the fact that she took him from his father now. I guess all that targeted publicity in Beverly Hills for the TV story about Ben paid off. Lots of Durelle’s friends watched it. As much as they sympathized with his wife’s position, they seemed to think it wasn't 'fair.'
"Dr. Durelle has always prided himself on being absolutely upstanding and fair in everything he ever did. Having received so many critical calls from people he thought well of has greatly disturbed him. In addition, it seems Catherine's perception of how much fun it would be to raise a son was at great variance with how difficult it, in fact, is. She's decided motherhood isn't for everyone and, in particular, not for her. Does all of this sound plausible to you, Mr. Santos?"
Tony looked at Vic, then smiled broadly, slapping his attorney on the back. "It sounds very plausible, Mr. Manning."
"Excellent."
"Does this mean I don't have to get a job in baseball? I can go back to my ranch?"
"You can do anything you'd like. But I thought you loved baseball."
"I do. And it was a great part of my life. But it's time to move on. It's time to go home again."
Manning nodded. "Good. I’ll inform Judge Powell of what's happened here, then we'll go to my office to work out the details of the settlement. Shall we meet in, say, a half hour?"
Tony agreed, shook hands with Manning, then gave Vic a big hug. "Excuse me. I've got to make a phone call."
He took out his phone and called Lisa's number. Her answering machine picked up and he hung up. Damn, why didn’t she pick up? Actually, why should she? She was close to the top of her profession, and still moving up.
He stared his phone. He wanted to tell her his news, listen to her reaction. She knew exactly what she was doing when she put that piece together on Ben. And the irony of it was she'd done it fairly--that was what Dr. Durelle's colleagues saw and reacted to.
That piece of film more clearly than anything showed her talent, and her heart.
When he'd watched her in the past, night after night on TV, telling news stories and, at times, commenting on them, he'd seen a beautiful, ambitious, self confident woman. What he failed to see, or hadn't allowed himself see, was a woman with intelligence, passion and talent for her work. She could do anything she set for herself. His own Lisa Marie could hold her own with the best of them.
An all encompassing pride swept over him.
He loved her and he knew he al
ways would. But Miwok would have stifled her. If they'd married at age eighteen or nineteen like he had wanted, he would have taken her to every pit stop through the minor leagues. How long would such a life have satisfied a woman like her? How long before she would have resented being tied to him that way? How long before that resentment turned to hate?
Or, if they'd married that young and they'd pursued separate high-pressure careers, would their marriage have survived it? Youthful marriages were the shakiest under the best circumstances.
He could see all that now, years later...years wiser.
When he did marry, he'd made a botch of things with Catherine. She, too, had been beautiful and ambitious, and still was. She had wanted to get ahead, but instead of doing it on her own, she’d tried to use others.
Strangely, the bitterness he'd carried for so long against both the women he'd loved was gone now. Catherine shared a son with him, and she did love Ben. Lisa shared his past, his present, and maybe, someday, they'd meet again. If she ever came back home, he’d be here for her if she wanted him.
He glanced at the phone, then picked up the receiver and punched in her number.
"This is Tony. I wish I could talk to you in person right now, but I recognize how busy you are so I better give my news to this machine if I want you to hear it, right? Anyway, Lisa...I got Ben back. You did it. The Durelles and their friends learned some things about themselves they didn't like. And Catherine's decided kids are too much work anyway. So Ben's coming home. I don't know how to thank you, Lisa, except to say, thanks.
"I can see why you love your work, Lis'--you're a pro. I admire what you're doing. Hell, I admire you...
"Well, that's all I wanted to say. Just, thank you, and remember if you ever get tired of the rarified air up there and want a little oxygen remember your friend Tony okay? Shoot, I'm making a botch of this. What I'm trying to say is, I'm always here, okay? If you ever need me. Not that I imagine you ever will. I guess you've only got one way to go, and that's up. So...good luck, and lots of happiness to you...I love you...Knock 'em dead, Lis--, I mean, Lee. Knock'em dead, Lee."
