by Lacy Hart
Wes followed suit and climbed out of his car and paused in front of Kristin in no time at all.
“Can you forgive me for being an ass?” Wes said as he gazed down into Kristin’s eyes.
“Of course, I can,” Kristin told him. “But Wes, you… I mean we… need to be better about talking to each other about what is going on. I know I should have been more open to you, and told you about things like Karen’s engagement and the incident at the meeting with Fred, and for that I am sorry, but you…”
Wes interrupted Kristin and put a finger up to her lips.
“I haven’t been the easiest person to live with lately. It’s been like a broken record with me getting all moody like this, and I am going to do my best to work through all this, I promise. And I will let you know what I am going through, feeling and thinking.”
Wes and Kristin embraced, and the hug quickly turned into a passionate kiss. Kristin leaned against the front of her car as she and Wes kissed deeply again and again before they stopped. Wes rested his forehead against Kristin’s.
“Want to know what I am thinking right now?” he said with raised eyebrows.
“What are you thinking, Mr. Martin?” Kristin replied.
“I’m thinking Izzy is out of the house for the rest of the day and we have the whole place to ourselves. Maybe I can fix us some lunch, light a fire in the fireplace, put on some romantic music…”
Wes began to lightly kiss Kristin on the neck, working his way down to the nape where his bit of stubble tickled Kristin and caused her to giggle.
The romantic mood and quiet were quickly broken by a voice from nearby.
“Do you two mind not making out and blocking my driveway?” Wyatt remarked from the front porch. “I need to drive down to the stables to work.”
Kristin peered over Wes’ shoulder, smiling at Wyatt before Wes stood up and looked at his father.
“Sure, Dad, thanks,” Wes said, giving a wave. He gave Kristin another peck on the lips before he raced back towards his car. Wes drove up the hill in reverse rapidly, and the vehicle kicked up mud and melted snow along the way.
“Glad to see you two talking,” Wyatt told Kristin as he got into his pickup truck.
“Thank you, Wyatt,” Kristin replied before she jumped into her own vehicle to catch up to Wes and get into the house as fast as she could. All the while, she thought that everything began to fall back into place.
10
All remnants of the snow melted away swiftly as temperatures warmed for early March. Wes heard the birds chirping happily as he walked up to the batting cage complex in the mornings. His legs and arms strengthened with each passing day, and Wes’ vision and the way he tracked the ball pitched was as keen as it had been during his playing days. He spent more time not only working on his hitting but working out in his home gym to get in even better shape. Muscle tone returned to his body, and the firmness of his abs appeared as prominent as before.
With all the positives coming from the workouts and practice, this should have been a much better time for Wes. Unfortunately, even with all the drills and good signs in his hitting, Wes still felt incomplete. He hadn’t heard from his agent Randy since that initial phone call where Wes indicated his interest in coming back. Wes didn’t want to pester Randy every day, but he expected to at least to be kept abreast of what was going on.
After his morning workout, Wes plodded back down to the house to shower. Once he washed the day’s workout away, he wrapped a towel around his waist and strode into the bedroom. Wes reached for his cellphone and instinctively checked for any messages or emails. Disappointment reigned when he saw nothing again. Instead of tossing the phone onto the bed or smashing it against the wall like he felt like doing, Wes scrolled through his contacts, found Randy, and pressed call.
Randy’s assistant Tammy kept Wes on hold for a bit, which made Wes wonder if Randy attempted to try to dodge his call. Randy did things like this in the past, even when Wes sat in the room with him, so it wouldn’t be a big surprise to find himself on the other end of that treatment, but Wes hoped that his years of loyalty to Randy, and all the money he helped Randy make, still counted for something.
“Hey Wes, what’s going on?” Randy chimed in, taking Wes by surprise.
“Hey, Randy. I... I just wanted to check in with you and see if you had heard anything,” Wes answered with some hesitation.
Randy remained quiet for a moment, something he didn’t often do, and Wes knew it meant he searched for the right words of what to say.
“It hasn’t been that long, Wes. You need to give it some more time.”
“Randy, the season starts in just over two weeks. I’m running out of time. I’ve felt great, the hitting is there, and I’m in fantastic shape. I’ve even taken fielding practice with the local high school team when I get the chance and have shagged some flies in the outfield. Now, I know I haven’t played outfield in a long time, but I think…”
Randy interrupted Wes abruptly.
“Wes, look, I’m sorry. I’ve made the rounds, talked to GMs, owners, and anyone that might listen. There’s… there’s just nothing out there right now.”
Wes had trouble comprehending the notion.
“Come on, Randy. I know some teams out there that are having trouble at first base or need a DH or even just a guy off the bench. The Pirates still don’t really have anybody for one.”
“Wes, Pittsburgh was my first call,” Randy explained. “I figured if anyone would have interest it was them, but they said they want to get younger right now.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Wes retorted. “There are 29 other teams out there to look at. Chicago, Texas, LA… hell, Miami is always looking for older guys to fill out their bench.”
“There’s no right way for me to say this Wes, so I’m just going to say it. Your name has been out there, and… and there just aren’t any takers. Teams are rounding out the rosters now, and no one seems ready to take a flyer on you.”
“I don’t get it,” Wes said with frustration and confusion. “I have good stats, Randy, better than a lot of the guys you see on teams today. You’re telling me no one is willing to bite at all? If it’s a money thing, I will take the minimum. I don’t care about the salary; I just want to play.”
“It’s not the salary, Wes,” Randy tried to be as gentle as possible with what he had to say. “You’re thirty-six, and you only played two games last year. To be honest, teams worry about how you walked away last year. They don’t want to take the risk of you taking a roster spot, playing for a few weeks or even a month or two, and then you change your mind again and leave.”
“Come on, no one really said that to you,” Wes answered.
“More than one GM told me that, Wes,” Randy stated.
“What happened to everyone thinking it was such a wonderful thing that I chose my family over a big salary?” Wes’ tone sparked with annoyance.
“The press is the one that eats that stuff up, Wes. You know that. The teams only care about wins and profit. Cincinnati and Pittsburgh may have said all the right things when you retired last year like that, but the bottom line is that it doesn’t mean anything to them now. You left, they celebrated you a bit, but now they have moved on, and so have the other teams, the press, and the fans. You coming back now makes people wonder what’s going on, if you need the money, if there are problems at home… there aren’t problems at home, are there? You know you can tell me the truth, Wes.”
“Randy, there aren’t any problems at home.” It was a bit of a white lie, but Randy didn’t need to know about the issues he faced with Kristin right now. “I just want to play baseball again.”
The two men remained silent on the phone for ten seconds, though to Wes it seemed like two hours.
“What… what about a minor league deal?” Wes added.
“Wes, you really want to do that?” Randy couldn’t believe Wes even mentioned the minors.
“The minors mean a low salary, but it also me
ans everything that goes along with it – travel by bus, cheap hotels, lousy meals, no frills, and there are no guarantees that it will even lead to something. And suppose it doesn’t work out and you don’t play well? You want the press all over you getting released by some AAA team so they can write about what a mistake it all was? I think it’s a bad idea.”
Wes was quiet again as he considered what Randy said. It was all true, and Wes knew it, but his desires right now were stronger than ever, and the willingness to swallow his pride if it came down to that surged.
“Randy, I know if I get a chance, I can prove them all wrong. Please… I just need a shot.”
The apparent desperation in Wes’ voice shone through to Randy.
“Okay, Wes,” Randy said resignedly. “Let me see what I can find out. I can call a few more people and see if anything is out there, but I can’t make you any promises, Wes. You have to be aware of that and willing to accept it.”
“I know,” Wes conceded. “Thanks, Randy, I appreciate it. Just, keep me posted, okay?”
“Will do, buddy,” Randy told him before he hung up.
Wes tossed the phone on the bed and lay back. He stretched himself out as he let out a big sigh. He never expected it to be this hard, trying to come back. After hitting nothing but home runs in his at-bats last season and captivating the baseball world, he thought for sure there would be at least one team willing to give him a tryout and maybe a bench job. The process was a much more significant blow to his ego than he anticipated.
It didn’t help that Randy mentioned the notion about there being trouble at home. Wes wasn’t at his best, he acknowledged that and there had been rough patches with Kristin and with Izzy, but he thought he had smoothed all that out. His mood improved since he had been practicing more and the relationships with everyone were better than they had been in months, weren’t they?
Wes stared up at the motionless ceiling fan above the bed, and suddenly there was a kinship between Wes and this device he rarely noticed or considered. They were both stuck, waiting for the spring, for the chance to show how useful they both could be to all around them.
****
Kristin opened the windows in her office to allow the breeze to flow through and get some of the stale air out that built up over the long winter. Having the light wind come across her face now and then was enough to make her sit back in her chair, close her eyes, and smile. A freshness came in and made everything much better.
Work had been tense for a bit after the last board meeting, and Marion remained in constant contact with her since the incident with Fred Clark. Marion repeatedly told Kristin that the board took her feelings seriously and worked towards what steps to take, which gave Kristin little satisfaction. To make things worse, word had spread fast around Chandler about what was said at the board meeting. Small town gossip always blew things out of proportion, and more than one person mentioned it to Kristin. While most of the younger women that approached Kristin about the incident took her side, the older women in town, and indeed the older men, all seemed to feel that she overreacted and appeared too thin-skinned about it and should just let it go.
Kristin wanted nothing more to let it go and put it behind her so she could get through a day without it coming up, but she also wanted to make sure that Fred and others in town knew what he said was insensitive, out of touch, sexist and wrong. Kristin closed more than one conversation, post, and comments on the library’s Facebook page because people kept bringing it up and it ended with arguments, unrest, and a lot of childish behavior and name-calling. She never expected things to get to this point.
While Kristin was going over her latest request list to see what new releases she would bring into the library, her desk phone rang. It was her private line, not the general phone line for the library, an unusual occurrence. Wes, Izzy, or Wes’ parents or her own family always called her cell phone if they needed her. Kristin sat up and cleared her throat before answering.
“Kristin Arthur,” she stated in her friendliest yet professional tone.
“Kristin, it is Marion Harris,” Marion said, taking her own professional demeanor in response. Kristin’s hand tensed around the phone, and she tried to do relaxation breathing to calm herself. Lately, any time she spoke with Marion, anxiety ruled the moment.
“Hi, Marion. What can I do for you?” Kristin’s teeth clenched.
“I was wondering if we could get together and speak for a little bit?”
“Of course,” Kristin answered. “Why don’t you come down to my office?”
“I would prefer to do this outside of the library if we could. Do you think you could come over to my home so we could meet in my office? We’ll have more privacy there.”
“Your… your house?” Kristin said nervously. She had never been asked to Marion’s home before.
“Yes,” Marion answered. “Can you get here in about 15 minutes? I know it’s last minute, but I do have other appointments today, and this needs to be taken care of as soon as possible. Do you need the address?”
“No, I mean 15 minutes is fine, and I know where the house is,” Kristin replied.
“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.” Marion promptly hung up, and Kristin held her phone for a moment in stunned silence.
Kristin put down the receiver and reclined in her chair. Worry coursed through her as she wondered what Marion wanted that couldn’t be said over the phone or in the library. It clearly meant a sensitive topic, which made it all appear worse to Kristin. Kristin quickly gathered her purse and jacket and went out into the library.
Karen sat perched at her stool at the front desk while she scanned some recent returns into the system. Karen turned her head when she saw Kristin standing there.
“Where are you going?” Karen inquired. “It’s a little early to knock off for the day, but more power to you, Boss,” Karen said with a smirk.
Kristin walked closer to Karen so she could whisper without those in the library hearing the conversation.
“No, Marion just called me. She asked me to come out to her house for a talk.”
Karen slammed a stack of books down onto the counter, which caused heads to lift like meerkats to see what was going on.
“Her house? What the hell for? She better not be thinking of firing you over this whole thing. If she does, I’m walking too,” Karen said forcefully.
“I don’t know what she wants,” Kristin began. Kristin straightened up and looked at Karen. “If she does want to fire me, well that’s her choice, but I’m not going down without having my say. I’ll be sure to give her a piece of my mind. And you shouldn’t quit even if she does fire me, Karen. You need the job. Think about yourself and don’t worry about me.”
Karen reached over and grabbed Kristin’s hand.
“Give ‘em hell!” Karen thundered, evoking the meerkat response again.
Kristin strode out of the library, holding her head up and not looking at any of the patrons as she left. She marched right to her car in the small parking lot, got behind the wheel and made the right turn to head down Main Street.
Everyone in town knew which house was Marion Harris’. The large Victorian home was positioned at the far end of Main Street, the last building there before Main Street turned to Route 15 and headed out into the more rural areas of Chandler. Kristin could have easily walked to Marion’s home, but she knew that pacing the few blocks over would make her more anxious about the meeting. She wanted to get there and get this over with as quickly as possible.
In just over a half a mile, Kristin turned through the open wrought-iron gate to go up the short circular driveway to the home. Marion’s family continued as something of a legacy in Chandler, even more so than the Martins. Marion’s maiden name was Chandler, and she was a direct descendant of the founders of the town. She married Victor Harris back in the late 1950s, and Victor, a noted banker, and financier in the area, had passed away some twenty years ago, leaving Marion even wealthier than her family name left
her. She moved back to the Chandler house, restored it to its former glory, and spent all her time engaged in social activities and philanthropic endeavors.
Kristin parked her vehicle at the top of the circle driveway outside the house. It was the only car visible since the house vehicles resided safely in a nearby garage. Kristin climbed the stone steps to the porch and rang the bell, listening to the chimes echo inside.
An older woman answered, clearly Marion’s housekeeper, and smiled at Kristin.
“I’m… I’m Kristin Arthur. I’m here to see Mrs. Harris,” Kristin said, fumbling with her words.