Balk (Home Stand #2)

by Lacy Hart

  Wes didn’t want this to be more of a big deal than he thought it was but having the doctor check it out seemed like a good idea.

  “That would be perfect,” Wes said. “Could you please not mention anything to Mom? I… I don’t want her to worry about me.”

  When he said this, Wes knew it wasn’t entirely right. Sure, he didn’t want his mother to worry. She had her own illness and battles to fight. Wes’ more significant concern lay with his Mom saying something in front of Kristin, who would then wonder what happened.

  “Sure, no problem. We’ll be up in a minute.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Wes hung up and tossed the phone back on the bed next to him. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and saw it was nearly ten, and then remembered Kristin’s note this morning about meeting her for lunch. Kristin usually went to lunch around noon and meeting her in town today seemed less and less like a reality.

  A moment later, Wes heard the front door open and close.

  “Wes?” his father’s voice yelled.

  “In my bedroom Dad,” Wes shouted.

  Wyatt Martin entered his son’s bedroom, sauntering in just like a cowboy swinging through saloon doors. His wiry frame deceived many, as he remained stronger and quicker than most men half his age. His thick, gray mustache lent even more to his cowboy look, and he smiled as he came into the room.

  “What did you do now?” Wyatt spoke, sounding to Wes just like he had when Wes got injured often as a teenager.

  Dr. Emerson followed close behind Wyatt. A man also in his sixties much like Wyatt, Dr. Emerson didn’t carry nearly the same fitness level of his cowboy counterpart. Phil Emerson carried a slight paunch, a lot less hair, and rolled into the room more than strode.

  “I slipped and fell, Dad. Hi Dr. Emerson,” Wes noted, nodding to the doctor as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I think I hurt my right ankle.”

  “Let’s take a look,” Dr. Emerson said as he gently removed Wes’ sock and rolled up Wes’ pant leg to his knee. One glance down at the ankle and the sight of the large black and blue egg there from the baseball strike gave Dr. Emerson and Wyatt pause.

  “You got that from a fall?” Wyatt said. “Did you fall off the roof?”

  Wes’ face flushed as he thought of a way to explain things to his father.

  “No, the bruise came from… well, I had gone up to the batting cage and took some swings. I fouled one off my ankle, and it got me good. But then I fell coming down the hill on my way back, and I think I made it worse.”

  Wyatt nodded at his son as Dr. Emerson examined Wes’ ankle, feeling around it and his foot, before working his way up his leg to his knee.

  “Anything else hurt, Wes?” the doctor inquired.

  “Just his pride, I’m guessing,” Wyatt answered, arching his eyebrow at Wes.

  Wes shot a look towards his father before he turned his attention back to Dr. Emerson. “No, everything else feels okay.”

  “I think it’s just a pretty nasty bruise, Wes, and you may have turned your ankle a bit when you slid. If you want, you can come down to the office, and we can check it out further – x-rays, and such – but I don’t think we’ll find anything else.”

  “No, that’s not necessary,” Wes answered immediately.

  “For now, just put some ice on it, take some pain reliever, and keep it elevated. If it doesn’t feel any better, call my office and let me know. We’ll have you come down to look at it again.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Wes said, smiling as he tried to sit up some more.

  “I’ll see him out and get you an ice pack,” Wyatt told Wes as Wyatt motioned Wes to stay on the bed.

  Wes propped up a few pillows behind him and then slid one underneath his right foot. Even just grazing his ankle with the soft down made him wince.

  Wyatt reentered the room, holding one of the ice wraps that Wes always kept in the freezer for when he needed one for the various bumps and bruises he always seemed to have. Wyatt wrapped the pack around the ankle, using the Velcro straps on it to close it. Chills went up Wes’ spine as the cold rested against the bruise.

  Wes felt the look his father gave him and tried to divert Wyatt’s attention.

  “How’s Mom?” Wes asked.

  “Phil says she’s doing okay. You know how it is. She’s supposed to be careful about what she does and where she goes, and she never pays much mind to that, so she wears herself out, gets sick, and we start worrying all over again. She just needs to relax and use her oxygen concentrator more. Now, how about you? Why did you go up to the batting cage knowing there was nothing but snow and ice out there?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. I looked out the back doors at the building, and thought I hadn’t been up there in a while, and…” Wes’ voice trailed off.

  “And you realized this was the week spring training starts in Florida,” Wyatt told him decisively.

  “Yeah,” Wes answered sheepishly. “I just wanted to see what it would feel like. It’s been months since I even picked up a bat.”

  “What did you prove to yourself?” Wyatt sat down next to him on the bed.

  “It took me a little bit, but my swings were good, maybe even better than good,” Wes told his father. “Consistent contact, my launch angle and exit speed were better than I hoped, and I drove the ball.”

  “Okay,” Wyatt answered as he rubbed his stubbled chin. “What does all that mean to you?”

  “It just means I can still hit, and maybe…”

  “Where are you going with this Wes? Are you thinking about trying to go back to baseball?”

  “I don’t know, Dad,” Wes told him honestly. “Part of me misses it… misses it a lot. I think if I spent some time getting myself back into better shape and worked at it that maybe Randy could get me an invite to spring training with someone. I don’t know if I could make it or not, but I might like to try.”

  “How long have you been feeling this way?”

  “On and off for about a month or so, I guess,” Wes replied.

  “Does Kristin know about this?” Wyatt had genuine concern in his voice now.

  Wes sighed. “No, I haven’t mentioned it to her yet, and I don’t know if I am going to, so please don’t say anything to her, Dad. Maybe this is just a passing thing, pangs because my body is used to going to spring training this time of year every year for the last eighteen years or so. I don’t know what it is, and until I do, I don’t want to say anything to her or Izzy.”

  “Wes, you know me. I’ll respect your wishes, but I’m not going to lie for you either. If they ask me about it, I’m going to be honest with them. It’s up to you to be straight about all this. Kristin loves you. She deserves to know what you’re feeling. You’re in this together, right?”

  “Of course, we are,” Wes shot back. “How could you think anything else? I love her with all my heart.”

  “Then let her know what’s going on,” Wyatt said as he stood up.

  Wes’ cell phone rang, startling both men. Wes reached over and picked it up, seeing it was Kristin.

  “Hi,” Wes said as he switched rapidly to a chipper tone.

  “Hey there,” Kristin replied. “I hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d call and see if you were coming down for lunch today. I left so early this morning, I’m already famished, and I’d love to see you.”

  “I’d love to see you too,” Wes answered, as he looked down at his steadily numbing ankle. “But I don’t know, I’m pretty tired today. I guess I didn’t sleep well or something. Can I take a rain check?”

  “Of course, you can,” Kristin said. “Go take a nap and relax. I can pick up some Chinese for dinner on my way home if you want so you don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s probably a good idea to do that anyway. I’m sure Izzy is going to want to tell us all about her audition this morning.”

  “Great.” Wes felt more at ease now that he knew he had a few more hours to recuperate his ankle before anyone got home. “I’ll see you later then.
”

  “You bet,” Kristin said to him. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” Wes replied, and hung up, and then looked up at his father, who leered back at him. Wyatt heard the conversation and gave a disapproving look.

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Wyatt said, as he sauntered towards the bedroom door.

  4

  Wes spent most of the afternoon alternating ice on and off his ankle, to get the swelling down quite a bit, but the purple and black speckled bruise that formed showed no signs of fading at all, and the bruise remained tender to the touch. He hopped off the bed tentatively, just to put the toes on his right foot down at first to see if he experienced any pain. All felt well, and he put full weight down. His heel hit the floor, and a dull ache spread across the top of his foot and up his leg. The pain, while still present, improved to a tolerable level.

  All of Wes’ years playing baseball helped to toughen him to injuries like bruises, scrapes, strains, and sprains. Wes managed to tolerate them well and learned treatment regimens from trainers over the years that helped ease injuries so he could play through them. The lessons he learned would see him through this one, but having been away from baseball for so long now left him a little concerned about how quickly he could bounce back. More of a concern was what Kristin and Izzy would think about the injury and how he got it.

  Wes resolved to walk around as much as he could put up with before the girls got home, and hoped that he would at least have something of a normal gait before they arrived. He did a few laps around the main level of the house, going from the kitchen to the living room and dining room and back again, working his way around furniture and holding onto the backs of the dining chairs for stability when he felt he needed it. When it got close to five, and he knew Kristin and Izzy would be home soon, he went back into the bedroom, put his dirty clothes into the hamper so Kristin wouldn’t see the damp pants with the stains on them from when he slid down the hill and went to the kitchen to set the table for the Chinese food they were bringing home.

  Wes turned the music speaker on so he could listen while he set out plates and cutlery. He heard the front door open and close, and the familiar voices and giggling from Izzy and Kristin filled the house and brought a smile to his face. He relished the happy sounds that he heard, knowing that the girls became so close over the last year.

  Wes turned as Kristin entered the kitchen and held up the brown paper bag that brimmed with food. The smell of the fried wrappers of egg rolls that were clearly on top of the bag overwhelmed the usual aroma of the room. Kristin smiled and walked over to the table. She placed the bag in the center and then stood on her tiptoes to give Wes a gentle kiss on the lips.

  “Dinner is served,” she laughed.

  “Where’s Izzy?” Wes asked, looking around for his daughter. “I heard her talking to you when you came in.”

  “Oh, she ran upstairs to drop off her stuff before coming down to eat. Wes, there’s something I need to tell you before Izzy gets down here…”

  Kristin hoped to let Wes know that she helped Izzy dye her hair for her auditions, but before she could say anything, Izzy had bounded into the kitchen, her long, now red hair bouncing along with her. Wes’ stare followed Izzy from the doorway to the table and never wavered.

  “Hi Dad,” Izzy said, kissing his cheek. “How was your day?”

  Izzy plopped herself down in a chair and dug into the bag of food, pulling out the package of egg rolls to take one and put it on her plate. She took a quick bite and crunched as she proceeded to take the rest of the food out of the bag. She placed the plastic containers around the table in a diamond pattern and smiled at her handiwork.

  All the while, Wes stared, and then his view moved over to Kristin, who saw the puzzled look on his face.

  “What happened to your hair?” Wes asked.

  Izzy looked up and tried to swallow before she spoke.

  “It’s red for the tryouts. Ariel has red hair, Dad. I wanted to get into character as much as I could to really give myself a shot. Do you like it?” Izzy tossed her hair a bit and laughed. She picked up her egg roll and dipped into the duck sauce she had squirted on her plate, spreading the sauce so that the egg roll dripped of bright orange before she took another bite.

  “But what if you don’t get the part?” Wes stated. “Then you have bright red hair like this for who knows how long. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Izzy peered over at Kristin, waiting for support to kick in to help her with her father.

  “It’s fine, Wes, really,” Kristin said, as she rested a hand on Wes’ shoulder. “I think she looks good with red hair anyway. Izzy, tell your Dad how the auditions went.” Kristin sat down and poured some of the won ton soup from the quart container into a bowl in front of her plate. She swirled the spoon around, waiting for Izzy to explain how tryouts played out.

  “Fabulous!” Izzy stated. Izzy inadvertently sprayed small bits of cabbage out of her mouth as she spoke. Izzy laughed heartily as some landed squarely on Wes’ t-shirt. He glanced down and then back over at Izzy, who picked up a napkin and wiped Wes’ shirt before she wiped her own mouth.

  “Sorry, Dad.” Izzy balled up the napkin and put it next to her plate. “The auditions went great. I nailed my song and Miss Baker, one of the assistants with the show, told me she thought I sang the best of the group. They announce the cast soon, so I have my fingers crossed.”

  “That’s great honey,” Wes said, still not fully accepting the flaming red hair sitting across from him. “I’m proud of you. I hope you get it.”

  The three sat and ate, working their way through General Tso’s chicken, fried rice, and chicken and broccoli until only empty containers dotted the table. Kristin and Izzy both told Wes about their days, but Wes hardly acknowledged the details of what they spoke about. His mind constantly shifted back to what he did wrong while batting today and how much better he thought he could be tomorrow with just some minor adjustments to his swing.

  “Wes?” Kristin shouted, snapping Wes out of his daze.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Wes said, lightly shaking his head.

  “I asked if you were done. Are you feeling okay? I know you said you weren’t earlier today.” Kristin flashed a concerned look on her face.

  “I think I’m just tired today,” Wes said with a slight smile. He rose from his seat and began to pick up the empty containers.

  “I can put this stuff in the dishwasher,” Kristin told him. “Why don’t you just go lay down for a bit.”

  “Thanks, I think I will.” Wes kissed Kristin on top of her head and then did the same to Izzy, who was still seated at the table as she polished off what was left of the fried rice on her plate.

  “Nice job today, kiddo,” Wes crowed before he shuffled off to the bedroom.

  Izzy looked up at Kristin as she finished her food.

  “Is Dad okay?” Izzy asked. Izzy grabbed her plate and cutlery and headed over to the dishwasher. “He seems kind of out of it today. Do you think he was freaked out about my hair?”

  “I think he’s alright, Izzy,” Kristin answered. “I think it’s just…” Kristin crept closer to Izzy. “It’s just the time of year is all,” she whispered. “This was always when spring training started for him, and I think he’s a little down about it and missing it.”

  “Geez, I didn’t even remember about it.” Izzy glanced at Wes’ bedroom door, which was now closed. “And I just went on and on about all I was doing while we ate. Now I feel like a jerk.”

  “Hey, it’s nothing to feel bad about,” Kristin reassured. “You should be proud of your achievements and what you are doing, and you should be happy to share them, especially with your father.”

  “Thanks, Kris,” Izzy said. She finished loading the dishwasher and pushed the door shut until it latched. “I’m going up to my room, do some homework, and then talk to Amy about auditions.”

  Alone in the kitchen, Kristin went to the refrigerator and pulled out t
he half bottle of Pinot Grigio that was still in there. Reaching two glasses from the overhead rack while she stood on her tiptoes - I have to remember to ask Wes to move this thing, she thought - she poured a glass for herself and then one for Wes before walking to their bedroom. She deftly closed the door behind her using a combination of her left foot and her backside to make sure it was closed.

  Kristin stared at Wes on the bed as he read today’s newspaper, his right foot boosted up on a couple of pillows. She loved watching him do even a simple thing like this, and warmth filled her heart as she considered just how well her life played out right now.

  Kristin strode over to Wes’ side of the bed and sat down next to him at his hip.