Dane nodded his head. “I can get you all his insurance information, and we’ll make sure that his schedule works with whatever you come up with.”
Amanda’s ponytail swished a little again as she nodded affirmatively. “I appreciate that. We know Cole has tried the standard treatment of rest, but he’s not getting the results you’re both hoping for. If you’re both in agreement, I’d like to try a few therapeutic elements from the study I was supposed to be a part of this summer. The study’s been cancelled, but if we can find a way to work together, maybe I can see if we were on the right track and maybe get some support to re-open the study, this time here at Provident College.”
Everything sounded positive to Dane, except for one thing. He jumped into the conversation. “If we can find a way to work together? What do you mean? I thought you were going to help Cole.”
“It’s complicated,” she said. Her ponytail came to a full stop and a shrewd half-smile spread across Amanda’s face. The glare from the lights overhead caught some stray lipstick shimmer left in the middle of her bottom lip.
“How so?” Dane felt like he had whiplash. First they were moving forward, making appointments, discussing options. Now the word if had been brought into the conversation. It hit the hope in his heart like the jerk of anti-lock brakes.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to find a way to help Cole. But I was supposed to be abroad doing a short research sabbatical this summer. So, I’m actually not on PC’s payroll right now. The research team in Europe was supposed to pay me. But now that I’m staying here, I’m not on the schedule to teach classes. No classes and no grant funding equals an unpaid sabbatical. So there’s got to be a way to fund this if we’re going to set it up as a small test project that may tell us if researching these alternative therapies is something we want to pursue more broadly going forward.
“You need someone to pay you for the semester?”
Amanda shrugged. “To put it bluntly, yes.”
Dane shifted in his chair. There had to be a way to make this happen. There had to be a game plan. He excelled at game plans. That’s what Provident College paid him for.
But never had any game been on the line in the same way Cole’s future was on the line. One game, one season...none of that compared to needing to win the game that was the rest of Cole’s life.
“I know of some Grad Assistant positions open in the athletic department. Want to be a GA for a semester? I could ask around.”
“I don’t really think I’d be an asset to the football team trying to come up with a two-minute drill.” She gestured idly with her hands as she spoke. “But do you think there might be someone over there interested in alternative therapies for concussion rehabilitation? Again, this isn’t an exact match with my specialty, but there’s enough overlap because brain health is important across the board.”
Now that, Dane could agree with. A lifetime of sports had taught him that injuries were part of life in athletics. But too often, coaches and trainers kept doing things the same way, year in and year out. In a lot of cases, there were new and better ideas—but they hadn’t been distilled down to an easily-understood protocol.
“Let me ask around,” he said.
Amanda’s broad smile pushed aside the uneasiness which had flashed in his heart and mind just a few minutes ago.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll make my calls to the neurology department at Provident Medical. Then we can circle back and get moving. Hang tight, Cole. There will be some light at the end of the tunnel soon.”
Dane wanted to believe in Amanda’s parting message of hope. But what if he couldn’t find a way to get her therapy project funded somehow?
They were talking about his son. About his son’s future. Dane couldn’t let that light at the end of the tunnel be a train. He had to find a way.
FIRST KISS FIREWORKS
Chapter Three
“Hey there! Your assistant told me I’d find you out here,” Amanda said.
She leaned over the dugout rail at Tidal Waves Ballpark, known to everyone on the Provident College campus as “The Splash.”
Dane turned around and looked up. He adjusted his sunglasses as a warm smile crossed his face at the sight of her. “She was right. If you’re lookin’ for me, and you can’t find me, the chances are I’m down here on the field.”
Amanda shielded her eyes from the sun with the palm of her hand. “So, how’s the season going?”
“Good.” The brim of Dane’s baseball cap bounced slightly, moving up and down. “If we can just keep doing what we’re doing, we should be invited to a post-season regional.”
“Wow, that’s great. I have a lot of good memories from watching my brother play as a kid. It seems like so long ago.”
Dane’s own eyes took on a bit of a faraway stare. “Yeah, the years go by fast.”
Amanda looked out at the green semi-circle of grass reaching back to the outfield wall. “They certainly do. But then, sometimes, it’s good to stop and take stock of the moment. And today is one of those times.”
“It is?” Dane leaned on the rail.
“Yes. This is a great moment. I spoke with Dr. Brennan, the head of the neurology department at Provident Medical Center. He pulled some strings with Dr. Martie Post, a neuropsychologist who specializes in TBIs and post-concussive syndrome. Dr. Post had a cancellation on her schedule and she’s going to be able to evaluate Cole in her office this week.”
“This week? Really?”
Amanda wanted to squeal a little bit, but she felt like she needed to rein it in. She still had to be professional. This was all tied to her research. She couldn’t be acting like a teenager at a rock concert—even if formal neuropsych evaluations excited her far more these days than a teen idol on stage in a pair of tight jeans ever could.
“Really. It’s just amazing. A total blessing. A God thing. These appointments usually take months to get.”
At the mention of the word “God,” Amanda saw Dane’s chin tilt downward. She couldn’t see the track of his eyes behind the sunglasses, but there was no mistaking the scuff of the toe of his cleat in the dirt.
“So what’s this God thing entail?”
Amanda didn’t want to say Dane’s voice was sarcastic, but the tone had definitely gone flat. She stopped herself from saying anything further. She wasn’t here to research Dane or his thoughts on miracles in everyday life. She was here for two very specific reasons—to get Cole’s grades out of the danger zone and hopefully get him back on the team, and to hopefully parlay that into more extensive research for her own future and career.
“It’s an all-day appointment. They’ll interview him and do a battery of tests to pinpoint his strengths and weaknesses with regard to his brain functions. After the results are assessed, we’ll know more about what he can and can’t do and where we should focus his rehabilitation.”
The cloud that had settled over Dane’s demeanor dissipated. “Wow, Dr. McGovern. That sounds incredible. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you for making all that happen so quickly.”
“Well, it wasn’t really me,” she replied before remembering her resolution to not allude to the God thing anymore in front of Dane.
“It feels good to be moving forward, finally. I honestly don’t know what to say.”
Amanda reached back and grabbed her ponytail, then tightened it. “Well, you can start by just calling me Amanda. Dr. McGovern sounds way too formal for a conversation on a baseball field.”
The coach nodded. “Sure, but only if you’ll call me Dane.”
Amanda took in a deep breath of fresh ballpark air, happy for the moment. Just knowing that even with all the disappointment she’d seen in her own week, she now had the opportunity to bring happiness and hope to someone else’s week—well, it seemed to take the edge off her own wounds.
There was still some good in the world, after all.
A line of ball players ran past Dane in the dugout, giving him high-fives as they ducked int
o the door leading to the locker room under the stadium. “Good job today, guys. See you tomorrow morning in the weight room.”
Dane shouted encouragement at his players, then turned back to Amanda. He paused for a moment. Again, the reflective lenses of the sunglasses hid the tracks of his gaze from her, but something in her stomach stirred. The flip and flap of little butterflies told Amanda that the coach was studying her.
“Practice is over—and I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about pizza for the last hour. Would you like to join me, and then maybe you can tell me more about these appointments? I feel like as a coach I should have heard of some of this concussion treatment stuff, but I haven’t. And as a dad...well...”
Dane’s voice trailed off. Amanda could hear some indistinguishable shouting from the players below, but otherwise, the ballpark was still for a moment. He seemed so serious. Evaluating personality traits was part of her work, and right now, she wanted to take out a tablet and start making notes on Dane Vasquez.
He was definitely a concerned dad and a good coach. But the way he’d go from chatty and engaged to quiet and thoughtful on a dime...well, it set Amanda’s researcher radar off.
There was something there. She knew it, just like Scooby Doo could sniff out trouble the minute he hopped from the door of the Mystery Machine.
Scooby always seemed to solve the puzzle with the help of some Scooby Snacks. Maybe pizza would be the missing link for her pondering.
“Sure,” Amanda said. “Pizza sounds great. I mean, I’ll never turn down pizza. Besides, it’s not like I’m teaching classes this semester and need to finish getting things ready. What did you have in mind?”
“Meet me at The Seahorse in like twenty minutes or so?”
Amanda could feel her mouth begin to water at the thought of future carbs. “Mmm. I love The Seahorse. But can you give me half an hour? I’ve got to get back across campus to get my car out of the faculty parking lot.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you there.”
The Seahorse was a legendary Port Provident institution that had been cooking up the best of guilty pleasure food with a view of the Gulf of Mexico for more than two decades. Serving both locals and beach-going tourists alike, The Seahorse made sure no one’s craving for pizza, burgers, or fries went unsatisfied in while on Provident Island.
Dane remembered stopping here every summer when he came to visit his cousin Rigo. They’d hang out in a booth at the back, drinking pitchers of soda and talking about only two things: girls and baseball. Walking through the door of The Seahorse always took Dane back to a time when he didn’t have any worries—and he didn’t have any concern for anyone other than himself.
That self-centered adolescence migrated into his twenties—and sadly, even beyond—and shaped more of his life than he’d cared to admit.
But he’d made up his mind to do things differently, to change the trajectory of the decades behind him, and maybe—just maybe—be the man his son needed in his life.
The bell on the front door jingled, and as Dane looked up, Amanda walked in. He couldn’t get enough of that ponytail. Something about it made him smile. Every. Single. Time.
When it came to noticing women, Dane definitely had a type, and never before had he considered himself a “ponytail man.” His life in Port Provident had definitely changed him—in ways he never dreamed possible.
“Mmm. This place is just like a warm hug. Calzones are kind of my love language.” Amanda slid across the red vinyl bench opposite Dane.
A light blinked in his head. Calzones good. Noted.
“I’m probably going to have to get to the weight room before the guys in the morning, but I’m pretty sure it will be worth it,” Dane reciprocated Amanda’s appreciation for the local joint. “Do you come here often?”
She shook her head with a laugh. “Not as much as I’d like to, trust me. But my job doesn’t give me the opportunity to workout or run sprints to atone for my bad behavior.”
Her words reminded Dane of his earlier thoughts. Atonement. That was exactly the word he’d been looking for earlier. He was on this quest for Cole because he needed to be a dad. He needed to do something right for once. He needed to atone for all the times he hadn’t been there.
“It’s not as glamorous as you’d think.” Dane pushed the menu off to the corner of the table. He didn’t even need to look at it to know what he’d be ordering. “But tell me more about your job. What is it exactly that you do?”
“I specialize in inclusive classroom settings and teaching future educators how to create those,” she said simply.
“I’m a sports guy. What does that mean in English?”
“It means that every child deserves an environment in which they can learn. My goal is to teach our education students how to create those areas where children are comfortable getting the accommodations they need and the teachers are empowered and equipped to provide that experience and a great education to go along with it. I teach things like classroom management strategies, how to talk to children about disabilities, how to come up with physical arrangements in the classroom that lead to success. And I hope to instill in them a curiosity and a desire for research to stay on the cutting edge because we have a lot of kids in school today with conditions like ADHD, autism, and more—and there are always new ideas and approaches we’re learning for how to support these students to do their best work and be successful.”
It sounded pretty important to him, and in a way, he felt he could relate. “I think as a coach, I have similar goals. Different guys are motivated in different ways. My job is to reach them and get them to where they need to be so they can meet the needs we have as a team, while still meeting their personal goals. There’s a lot of balancing.”
Amanda tapped the table lightly. “Exactly. This is just taking that basic tenet of education—helping students learn and thrive—and then going a step further with it. Some barriers to classroom success can be in the brain, and others can be physical. But it’s up to educators today to work with things like 504s and IEPs—and even to help out and recognize areas that can be helped, even if there’s not a formal arrangement governing the student’s education.”
“So how does your research tie into that?” Dane could tell Amanda was passionate about her work. As she explained her role in the education department, the timbre of her voice became deeper and more rich. Listening to her was almost like biting into the sweetest strawberry at the height of summer. There was just something superlative about how she explained it, not just the words she spoke.
“Well, I’ve always been interested in low-intervention therapies. Using things like essential oil diffusers in the classroom, or changing seating arrangements from chairs to balls. How can we use music and scheduled periods of active movement to benefit kids and their natural energy? Two years ago, I was doing research on diffusing essential oils in the classroom and I became hooked on the science behind the oils. Monoterpenes, sesquiterpenes, utilizing the limbic system to stimulate the different areas of the brain...there’s a lot there.”
Dane waved his hands. “Whoa, whoa. Monosesquiterrapins? Isn’t the terrapin the mascot at the University of Maryland? Isn’t that a fancy way of saying turtle? Are you putting turtles in the classroom?”
A throaty, high-pitched laugh burst out of Amanda. “Not terrapins. Terpenes. Terpenes are organic hydrocarbons found in plants. You’ll often find them used in fragrances or flavorings. But they can influence neurotransmitters, affect mood, things like that.”
“You’re still kind of speaking a foreign language. You’ve got a jock here at the table, remember?”
“Hold on. I’ve got something that will help.” Amanda grabbed her purse and began to rummage inside.
“You carry these not-really-a-terrapin things in your purse? Is that legal?” Dane eyed the professor skeptically.
“Terpenes. And yes, it’s totally legal.” She held up a brown glass bottle with an orange label, then remove
d the white plastic lid and held it out to him. “Smell this.”
Dane did as he was told.
“Orangey. A little bit lemony too.”
She nodded. “Right. And how does that make you feel?”
“Pretty happy, I guess. I like the smell of lemons. They remind me of my aunt’s clean kitchen and drinking lemonade at the ballpark as a kid.”
“Aaah.” She waved the small bottle under her own nose and breathed in deeply. “Exactly. Terpenes at work. Citrus oils contain a terpene known as limonene. Limonene generally promotes good feelings, a rise in mood. When you smell blend of citrus oils like this, those limonene molecules travel up your nose and are processed by your limbic system, which is made up of several areas in your brain. Then your body triggers an appropriate response. So just by smelling this tiny bottle of oil, you triggered a memory in your brain of happiness and your hypothalamus was given the signal to relax and enjoy the moment. And all that happened without you ever taking a pill or being hooked up to a machine.”
The corner of Dane’s mouth twitched. “That’s kind of amazing.”
“Isn’t it? And if we can help students stimulate the areas of their brain that keep them relaxed or alert or more at-ease and happy, then we can impact their productivity in the classroom and their general well-being. It fascinates me.”
She fascinated him.
It hit Dane like connecting a bat with the perfect fastball streaking across the center of the plate. The observation happened so fast, he didn’t have time to let anything but instinct take over. There was no time to think about it or analyze it.
He just let the realization hit the right spot and fly.
But in baseball, he knew what to do. That perfectly-hit ball would fly over the bases, cut above the outfield and soar past the wall. It would advance runners, score points, and win the game.
He always knew what to do in baseball. But in life? That was another story.
Dane Vasquez struck out every single time.
First Kiss Fireworks Page 3