“How’s the hand?” I ask Javier. He pulls his left hand out of the water and flexes it. Six weeks ago, he slid into home and the catcher stepped on his hand, breaking it. It was a freak accident, but one that put him on the injured list. He was sent from our AAA team down to double to rehab, until I said I needed a catcher.
“Better, but tender. I like the trainer here, she’s nice.”
Thinking back to my first day with her makes me laugh. “I think I referred to her as “the spawn of Satan”, or something like that, when I started working with her, but she knows her job well and knows how to work those muscles. I swear I had aches in places I didn’t know existed until I started with her.”
“Man, don’t tell Stone. He’ll fire our current staff and bring her in.”
Wouldn’t be a bad thing, I think to myself, and maybe it’s something I should hint around about before I leave, although maybe she’s happy working in a rehab facility and working with college athletes.
For the longest time I wanted to quit on her because of the pain. It didn’t matter that I knew I needed her, everything she did, everything she put my arm through, was agonizing. She had a job to do, and that was to get me back on the field. So far, she’s done exactly what’s been asked of her and I’ve been right on track with the exception of my minor mishap in using Brett as a punching bag. Even after my run in with Larsen’s face, I made sure everyone who mattered knew it was my fault I was behind schedule, not hers. The last thing I wanted was for her to lose her job.
The timer goes off and Javier and I get out of the tub. We wrap ourselves in the towels provided and head toward the locker room where we both slip into the BoRe gear of sweatpants, long sleeved shirts and pullover jackets. It’s still fairly chilly in Montana, hovering in the high sixties/low seventies, which is cold to Javier and me who are used to it being around eighty right about now.
Since his arrival, he’s been staying at my parents in the room I vacated when I sort of moved in with Bellamy. I get the feeling my mom is upset with me for leaving and I don’t expect her to understand, but being at home is awkward, especially when Warner is hounding me about the ranch — not to mention the side comments from my sisters. Besides, staying with Bellamy is showing me everything that I’m missing in life, like a partner and, dare I say . . . a kid. I love Chase. I think he’s an amazing boy and I can’t, for the life of me, understand how his father can treat him the way he does.
After an hour drive, during which Javier reads all the stats from last night’s game even though we watched it, we’re finally back in town. I take us to Main Street, park the truck and head into the deli for lunch. It’s busy, with the line almost to the door, but fully worth the wait.
“Who knew small town America was like this?” Javier asks. I look around, trying to see what he sees and how it differs from where he lives. He did a minor stint with the BoRe’s last year, caught a few games for me while Cashman was injured, and then went back to Pawtucket and now he’s in Portland, Maine until he goes back to Rhode Island. Not exactly metropolises and more like places I’d consider small towns, especially in New England. Every town I have visited is quaint with picturesque Main Streets.
“Do you like it here?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I like the east coast, the ocean. Makes me feel like I’m home.”
“Minus the weather.”
He laughs. “Going back to the DR during the off-season is the best medicine.”
We finally place our order and decide to take it to go. As I drive toward the baseball fields, I spot Bellamy escorting a couple toward a house. I honk, Javier sticks his head out the window and yells her name as I wave. I think she’s smiling, at least I’m hoping she is, but I admit, we were a little obnoxious.
“How long have you been together?” Javier asks.
“Not long,” I tell him. “We met a few days after I got here, and I’ve seen her every day since.”
“And you’re leaving soon.”
I’m silent for a minute before I answer him. “I’m going to be the ultimate dick and ask her to come with me. I expect her to say no, though, because she has a good job and her mom is here.”
“What about her son?”
“I want him too.” And I do. I want Chase and Bellamy to be in Boston with me, but I’m not sure how to make that work, especially with Greg somewhat back in the picture.
Twenty-Six
Bellamy
My cheeks flush when Javier yells my name and Hawk starts honking, although I’m thrilled that he happened to drive by. He left so early this morning that I really didn’t get a chance to tell him goodbye. Normally, we wake, he makes breakfast for Chase while I shower, and we share our morning together before I’m off to my first showing or he’s heading to his parents. On the days he has therapy or training, he’s gone before the sun is up and does his best not to wake me. Those mornings are lonely and tend to remind me that my time with Hawk is getting shorter and shorter by the day. He doesn’t know this, but I’m keeping track of the pitches he’s thrown because I’ve heard him tell Chase that on average, he throws one hundred a game and something tells me that’s the magic number that sends him back to Boston.
After Greg moved out of our home, it took me months to fall asleep. Depression took over. I felt inadequate as a wife, a woman. I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed because I saw visions of my husband with another woman in there, even though he swore he never brought her into our home. It hadn’t mattered if he did; in my mind, my world was violated by them. I quit my job because she was there, and I’d have to work with him as well. Where does one escape when your world is falling apart around you? Your home is supposed to be your sanctuary . . . mine became hell. Sure, I still had Chase so I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face until he got on the bus every morning. Then for seven hours, I’d wallow, wondering out loud to the walls that were closing in what I did wrong. Nothing. That’s what. In the end, I realized Greg would’ve cheated no matter what.
When Hawk spent the first night at my house, I didn’t want him to leave but I could never come out and ask him to stay. I don’t want him to think I’m clingy, even though I want to be. Just call me plastic wrap. Every night he’s stayed I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face because I know he’s there. Life with Hawk is easy. We move around each other easily. He helps when I don’t expect him to by doing the dishes, sitting down with Chase to go over homework, showing up on Field Day at Chase’s school, making sure my son is occupied during the day, cooking dinner, mowing my lawn . . . my God the list of things this man has done for my son and me can go on and on. The worst part — he’s leaving. I can’t even ask him to stay because I know the answer is no. Who, in their right mind, would give up a baseball career to play lover to a single mom? No one I know, that’s for sure.
One day, after Hawk had left for therapy, I asked Chase on our way to school if Hawk was good at his job. My son scoffed and rattled off stats that made no sense to me. When I looked at him with nothing but pure confusion on my face, Chase simply said, “He’s one of the best, Mom.” Of course he is and now he’s doing everything he can to get back to his job.
Despite the fact I’m embarrassed, I’m also happy Hawk drove by. I know it was purely happenstance but it feels different, almost like he knew I’d be on this street at this time, walking toward the house. I’m not sure if I believe in fate or kismet, or even love at first sight like he does, but I believe in him and what we have going on. However, I’m not stupid enough to think we’ll last with the distance between us. The fairytale is going to end soon, and it saddens me. When I think about talking to him about a future, my stomach twists in knots and the idea makes me ill. The talk has to happen, but I don’t want to be the one to bring it up.
“Think you could get me his autograph?” Mr. Pearl asks as I turn back toward him and his wife.
Mrs. Pearl slaps her husband. “Don’t be rude.”