Clutch Hit

by Faith O'Shea

  Seb had been invited to supervise a kids’ winter baseball camp at Calipari’s. It had been held over the last two days and Mateo thought for sure he’d break at some point, get back to him about practice tomorrow. They were scheduled to meet there at nine for another round of drills with Leo. He couldn’t wait to get back to it, even knowing he’d be missing time with Allie.

  He leaned back on the sofa, taking in her animation as she chatted with one of the players. She was reassuring him about Mac and what he’d bring to the team. From what he’d gathered at the wake and funeral, there weren’t many who were disappointed with the move, and he wondered which player was questioning the decision. When she addressed him by name, her voice holding tight to some patience, he knew. Napolitano had lost his job. To Rique. Farina was the reason Nap had been retained by the team. Now that he was gone and there was a new shortstop in town, his prospects weren’t promising. It had to suck. What if it had been Ritter fighting for his livelihood with the woman who was involved with his replacement? He’d never thought about how their relationship would affect her job. Would there be resentments? Gossip?

  Would it be another reason Allie would want to cancel the marriage?

  Last night and this morning, she seemed all in and it had surprised the shit out of him. When he’d gotten back from the twenty-four-hour drugstore with six boxes of protection, she’d been just as eager to hit the sheets as he’d been. Relief had flooded her features when he’d returned, as if she thought…

  The ping on his phone had him checking to see who’d texted.

  Rique. Finally.

  He swiped to see Found her. I’m engaged.

  He dropped back against the couch, too dumbfounded to reply.

  “Allie.”

  She looked up from her phone, not yet part of another conversation, and asked, “What?”

  “Rique’s engaged.”

  Jumping up out of her seat, she raced over and sat down beside him so he could show her the text and asked, “Who. Who did he ask to marry him?”

  She poked him in the ribs and insisted, “Ask him.”

  He thumbed, “Allie wants to know who.”

  She poked him again. “He doesn’t have to know we’re here together.”

  “Your problem. Not mine.”

  They both looked at his screen until the answer came.

  Fifi.

  “Santa mierda. I told you there was an explosion waiting to happen there.”

  Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping open.

  “And she said yes?”

  “If she hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be engaged, right?”

  “What’s the woman thinking? He’s so not a good risk.”

  “Maybe, querida, he’s found the right woman.”

  He put his focus back on the cell and typed, Congratulations.

  He turned to look at Allie, who was still leaning over his arm, staring at the phone. “Is it unmanly to add an emoji?”

  She glanced up. “What kind were you thinking?”

  “One for laughing my ass off.”

  Before he could scroll to find one appropriate, Rique texted back, we’ll have to celebrate. If I can pry her away from the lab, maybe we can catch dinner one night after practice. Allie can come if you want.

  Before he’d even finished reading the full text, Allie said, “No. I’m not going. It will look too much like we’re a couple.”

  “We are a couple. For today. Remember?”

  She slapped that thought away and asked, “What lab does he have to tear her away from?”

  “She’s a geneticist. Has a doctorate and everything.”

  A vein began throbbing along her forehead. “How can she be that smart and still have agreed to marry him?”

  She still didn’t get it. So mired in her own fears, she rained on everyone else’s parade. He let out an exaggerated sigh and tried to explain what Rique was feeling, and, if she read between the lines, himself.

  “She is the sky he takes flight in.”

  There was a troubled expression on her face as if she understood but didn’t want to.

  “Rumi, again?”

  “My interpretation of him, anyway. It says it all, don’t you think?”

  Her eyes had met his, and he saw yearning there. He pressed a light kiss on her lips and whispered, “You are my sky, Allie. Don’t ever doubt it. I would like you to come, meet her.”

  Allie drew a bolstering breath. “I am curious.”

  “There are several articles about her work in some science digests. You can Google her.”

  She took his phone out of his hand and did exactly that. When Fiona’s picture came up, she gasped. “She isn’t who I expected.”

  What was that? A great beauty? A willowy brunette with long hair and a mysterious smile?

  For as much as she thought she knew the men she worked with, this told him she didn’t know Rique at all.

  “You thought he was shallow. I told you he comes from a family that is love and he would not settle for less.”

  She met his eyes, the confusion easy to read.

  “Maybe I will tag along. It is part of my job to get to know the families.”

  He took the phone back, and typed, Allie’s willing. Let us know when.

  He tilted the screen so she could read the incoming. Hi, Mattie. It’s Fiona here. So glad I’ll get to see you again and I can’t wait to meet superwoman Allie.

  “What does she mean superwoman Allie?”

  He gave her a sardonic smile. “The guys gush about you. You can do no wrong.”

  She got up and flounced away. “I do plenty of wrong. I just hide it better than most.”

  “Our marriage, for one?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not hiding that all that well. The list of who knows what is growing.”

  “I might have forgotten to tell you, I let Seb in on our little secret.

  Flustered, she spun around to face him.

  “You what? Seb? Of all people…”

  “He promised not to tell. And I trust him like you trust Casey.”

  “I’ve known Casey for years and she’s better at keeping secrets than just about anyone.”

  “By the way, I think he’s still in love with her.”

  This caught her interest and she came back, plopping down beside him.

  “What did he say?”

  “It wasn’t exactly what he said but the expression on his face while saying it. There’s regret there.”

  “For what exactly? That he made a mistake or he’s sorry he couldn’t give her what she wanted?”

  “Two sides of the same coin. Regret is regret.”

  Almost wistfully, she admitted, “They were so good for each other. No one ever saw the end coming.”

  “I’m not sure it’s ended.”

  “If you’re right, she can’t marry Greg. They are fighting a lot over her going to Sanford. I’m not sure which direction that’s going to go. She’d gotten a lot better at advocating for herself but—”

  “I thought you were good at mediating? Go mediate.”

  “Nope. I don’t tell my friends what to do.”

  “Just your guys?”

  “I suggest, not tell.”

  “Who were you talking to this morning?”

  “Nap. He’s grasping right now. He said he doesn’t mind staying in a utility role as long as he’s on the bench when we win the ring. He’s willing to do anything to be part of the team.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not suggesting we cut him. He can play a role. He’s a good athlete and he’s been with the team long enough to bring some experience. We need that as much as talent.”

  He agreed.

  “Who else?”

  “Most of the texts were from the players in the minor leagues looking for assurances about Sanford. I checked in with a few Greenies. Everything’s good. When Larsen hired Mac, he side-stepped a lot of potential problems.”

  “Made your life easier?”

&nbs
p; “In a word? Yes.”

  “Are you finished? I’m getting hungry. We can make lunch together.”

  They’d skipped breakfast. There had been another hunger that had to be appeased before they began their day. That had been a five-star meal and he could still taste her sweetness.

  After they’d walked into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and scanned the interior. “What are you in the mood for?”

  He stood at her back, nuzzled her neck. “You?”

  “Don’t imbibe in too much of a good thing. It will get boring.”

  “Mm. Not sure that’s possible.”

  “Mateo. Focus. Food. What do you want?”

  He bent down to see the offerings and pulled out a container of empanadas she’d gotten at Whole Foods. There were only two and he knew he’d have to go back for something else when he was finished. She pulled out a shrimp quesadilla, which she warmed up in the microwave, along with his.

  She’d taken a couple of bites before she asked, “What do you want to do today?”

  He stopped, his empanada halfway to his mouth, and looked up at her.

  “With you?”

  “Don’t let your brain travel to another room. I was thinking about walking around Faneuil Hall, showing you some of the city sights.”

  “It is as historic as Havana?”

  “We don’t go back to the thirteenth century, only the seventeenth.”

  “Are there any old cemeteries?”

  “Lots. You like them?”

  “They have intrigued me here. People are…interred? Is that the right word? Forever. The stones tell the story of their lives.”

  “Of course, they are. Why would you think differently?”

  He explained the Cuban burial ceremony and when he was finished, her mouth was gaping open.

  “They move them? Where? It doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t they just bury them where they end up and be done with it? Or cremate them and bury the urns? They can’t take up much room.”

  He shrugged. “It is just the way it is done.”

  “I’m glad it’s not done like that here. I can visit my grandparents whenever I want, know exactly where they’ll be every time I go. It’s comforting.”

  He knew no matter where his grandfather was, he would not be able to visit the grave. Not now that he was here. Instead of having a mausoleum built, could he have his body brought here to be buried, so his mother could visit when she felt the need? He’d have to discuss it with her. Better he spend his money on that than on a burial site he’d never see.

  She finished the quesadilla, licked her fingers before wiping her mouth with a napkin and said,

  “We can visit the Granary Burying Grounds. A lot of Revolutionary War veterans are buried there. It’s part of the Freedom Trail, so we can also see the State House, Old South Meeting House, Old North Church, take some time at Faneuil Hall. The weather seems to be cooperating. It’s supposed to be above freezing.”

  He’d noticed the sun was out when he stood by the window drinking his morning coffee. Blue sky, billowy clouds.

  “I would like to walk with you. You can tell me some of the history.”

  “America was birthed here so there’s a lot of that.”

  “You have enjoyed freedom ever since.”

  “We have. Our system seems to work for the most part. We’ve avoided a dictator to this point at least.”

  “It was not supposed to go that way. When Castro took over the island, it was to free the people from Batista. The reforms the Granma group introduced were important to the people. Education, health care, agrarian reform, racial equality, and the expropriation of US owned businesses. Somewhere along the line, he amassed as much power as his predecessor and held us all captive to his experiment in socialism. There were things that worked, but much did not. I see that better now than when I was a child.”

  “I think I noticed that one of your newspapers was called Granma. Was it named after the group?”

  “Granma is the official newspaper of the state. It was the name of the boat the original revolutionaries took from Mexico to the southern end of Cuba, where they began the fight for liberation. You have heard of Che Guevara. He was one of them and has become a symbol of our rebellion. You see his face all over the island.”

  “I noticed his picture was everywhere. You have very few national heroes. We have dozens.”

  “We have many more that you don’t read about. Céspedes and Martí are two of them but I would like to hear the good about your country.”

  “Your country now. The two-and-a-half-mile walk along the trail should give you that. You’ll at least see where we came from. Someday we’ll go to Lexington and Concord, where the real fight for our independence began.”

  “Mac lives in Lexington.”

  “That’s right. You were there.”

  “It is a prosperous town.”

  “It is.”

  “I think I like Boston. I fit here better.”

  “What about Gloucester?”

  “It has the same feel as home, but I prefer the busy streets here, the people, the congestion. It is alive.”

  It was that. Even on a cold January day, there were many pedestrians along the trail that showcased the beginnings of the republic. Allie parked in a garage near the Common and they meandered along the cobblestone paths of the fifty-acre park.

  He was glancing around. “This is big. Our parks are much smaller. It’s where we congregate. They’re like our living rooms.”

  “Due to the warmer weather?”

  “That is part of it, but also because homes are crowded, and few can afford air conditioners. We live outdoors, eat ice cream, dance, play chess, and what you call shoot the breeze.”

  They walked in companionable silence past Frog’s Pond, but when the figure of George Washington seated on a horse came into view, she told him the story about the first president and a cherry tree, which she claimed was all myth, and then about his attitude when given the highest office.

  “He could have been a king, or worse, if he’d wanted, but he stood firm on what he’d fought for. Equality among men.”

  “From what I’ve heard, there was little of that for hundreds of years.”

  “Not our brightest legacy.”

  They passed a line of ducks, a mother and her brood, their heads adorned in woolen hats.

  She stopped and explained, “Robert McCloskey wrote a kids’ book titled, Make Way for Ducklings, and it’s set in Boston. Someone thought it would be fun to showcase it, so the sculptures of Mrs. Mallard et al. were installed back in the eighties. In the summer, they’re dressed a bit differently. I walked through here once to find them in feathers and tutus.”

  There was a glow about her today, more lightness. Was it due to their lovemaking? If so, he would make sure she was thoroughly satisfied both day and night. He’d been looking for her always, and now that she was here, he never wanted her to feel ignored or underappreciated. Only desired.

  As they walked on, he took her hand in his and was pleasantly surprised she left it there.

  “They have duck boat rides in the summer, and the boats, which can drive on land, parade winning sports teams around the city. While I was with you in Cancun, the Red Sox were being exulted by the fans. It should have been us. Will be this year.”

  He chuckled. “The city has a thing for ducks.”

  She laughed. “I guess we do.” It was a musical sound.

  They walked past the State House with its golden dome, following a red line that ran along the sidewalk, the directions clear for all to see. When they arrived at the Granary Burial Grounds, she pointed out some of the distinguished men who were laid to rest there—Paul Revere and Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and five victims of the Boston Massacre. She gave him some history on the men who were interred while he dragged her around the centuries-old cemetery, fingering the old script, attempting to decipher names and dates that had worn away with time. When she’d had enough of hi
s search, she dragged him out and back on the street, her hand now firmly linked with his. He glanced down and a shiver of love shook through him.

  “There used to be a bookstore up ahead but it’s now a commercial building that has no historic value. It’s a shame they didn’t restore it. It disrespects the trail and what it stands for.”

  He noticed a Chipotle restaurant had taken up the space and she was right. It denigrated a site that had such historic underpinnings. By the time they’d seen the outside of the Old South Meeting House and the Old North Church, they came to Faneuil Hall which she explained was the end of the line. There were restaurants and bars and Quincy Market, retail stores and tourists.

  “Why don’t we stop in for a beer and an appetizer. I was surprised you ate so little for lunch.”

  He squeezed her hand and smiled. “When you suggested a day’s excursion with you, food was no longer a priority.”

  The genuine smile she gifted him with was heart-warming. She seemed to be enjoying the day as much as he was.

  When she ordered a Sam, he asked, “What is that?”

  “It’s a Sam Adams beer. Local brewery. Everyone from Boston knows what Sam means. You might prefer the Guinness.”

  He duplicated the order and found it had a clean lager taste, and for as much as he liked it, he wanted to try the Guinness, so he switched before the appetizers came. They munched on nachos and onion rings and stayed just long enough to warm up for the walk back to the car. The weather might be chillier than he was used to, but everything else about the place was almost heaven. No one watched his movements, there was an abundance of food, all kinds, all ethnicities, it was historic but well kept, he had money at his disposal, a job he loved, and the company, especially today, was beyond compare. He’d found a home here in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When they got back from their excursion, Mateo went right to the television. His absorption with the medium was a bit off the charts, but Allie guessed when you were used to a very limited selection, hundreds of channels must seem like a candy to a kid in a candy store. When she heard him say, Cuba into the remote, she waited, interested to see what would come up. Within a few minutes, he called over, “Allie come and see. I have found something I’d like to watch with you.”