He grinned. “I like the sound of that much better.”
And then he kissed her.
“I’ll call you tonight, if I can,” he said when he finally drew away. “Tell Michael…”
“I’ll tell him. Now, go, before you miss your plane.”
Kit took one last long look at Savannah, sent a quick smile in Miranda’s direction, and then let himself out the door. It closed behind him with a thud that echoed in Savannah’s heart.
Her eyes focused on that closed door, Miranda leaned against her mother’s side, her expression somber.
Savannah wrapped her arm around her daughter’s waist. “He’ll be back.”
“Yeah. Sure he will,” Miranda answered, obviously trying to sound positive. “He promised.”
Savannah nodded and kissed her daughter’s cheek. She saw no need to point out that promises, like hearts, were sometimes broken.
12
THE PLAYERS were already in the dugout when Savannah, Ernestine and Miranda arrived. Miranda hadn’t wanted to come since Kit wouldn’t be there, but Savannah had talked her into it.
“Michael will be so disappointed that Kit couldn’t make it,” she’d said. “We should go to cheer him on.”
Miranda had reluctantly agreed. Savannah had gotten the feeling that it wasn’t just her distaste for baseball that made Miranda want to stay at home, but Miranda wouldn’t give her mother any other reason. Savannah had finally let it go.
As soon as he saw them, Michael rushed to the chain-link fence that separated the field from the stands. Several of his teammates—Nick Whitley among them—accompanied him, looking eagerly beyond Michael’s family.
“Where’s Kit?”. Michael demanded. ‘Is he going to meet you here?”
Savannah wished vainly that she could break the bad news to him in a less public place. “Kit won’t be here, Michael,” she said quietly, knowing his friends could overhear. “He was called back to L.A. on business. Something about his new movie deal.”
Michael’s face fell in disappointment. “He said he would be here.”
“He wanted to come, Michael. But he had no choice.”
Nick Whitley snorted loudly and turned away, muttering something to one of the other boys as they headed back to the dugout. Michael scowled.
“Michael?” Savannah asked in concern. “You do understand, don’t you? Kit has a job in L.A. He can’t just ignore it when he’s needed there, even when he’d rather be here watching you play.”
Michael nodded. “Yeah, sure. I know his movie deal is more important than my stupid ball game. I was just hoping he could be here.”
“Michael—”
But the boy had already turned and dashed after his teammates.
Savannah turned and looked at her mother. “Don’t say it.”
Ernestine raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t say a word.”
She didn’t have to, of course. Savannah knew Ernestine was worried that Kit was well on his way to breaking not only Savannah’s heart, but the children’s, as well.
“Hey, Savannah,” Treva shouted out from across several people in the bleachers. “Where’s that pretty boyfriend of yours?”
“He had to go back to L.A.,” Savannah answered, embarrassed that Treva’s question had caused so many eyes to turn their way.
“He’ll be back,” Miranda added. “He promised.”
Savannah reflected wryly that the words “he promised” were rapidly becoming Miranda’s mantra. She thought she saw skepticism in several of the faces turned toward her, but told herself she was only being paranoid.