by Faith O'Shea
She spent the night in a bed-and-breakfast, crying, grieving, but like Humpty Dumpty, she couldn’t seem to put herself together again. The following day, she sat on an isolated stretch of beach, the clouds overhead blocking any sun. It seemed the universe was handing her another sign. There’d be no warmth, no light, no brilliance while she was here. She moved on but was still unable to find what she was looking for. By Wednesday morning the only thing that had changed was her direction. She was going back. No matter how far she’d run, she couldn’t outdistance her feelings for him. Instead of healing, she’d found more loneliness, the need for who he was a driving force propelling her back into the undertow.
She’d auditioned tragedy before acting it out. The rehearsal hadn’t hurt so deeply.
On the way back, her Blue tooth signaled a call from Casey.
“Where the hell are you? And what are you doing?”
“I just needed some time to think.”
“Mateo’s a zombie. Struck out three times yesterday, missed a double play that he should have nailed. Why the hell did you break up with him?”
She rubbed her temple, the headache she’d woken up with still pounding.
“We’re married or did you forget. It’s not quite that simple.”
“If you’re done with him—”
“Don’t.”
She brushed the damn tears that refused to stop collecting, away. She knew Casey would never do that to her, but Mac’s words were ringing in her ears.
“You’re running away. Don’t you find it ironic that I’m the one who’s finally facing my fear and you’re the one denying you even have one?”
“I’m not denying anything. Wish I could. It might save me some pain.”
“He came over last night. Spent a couple of hours with us. He’s hurting, Allie.”
“He met Charlie? You trust him with that?”
“Yes. He’s a man of his word.”
She knew Casey’s secret would be safe with Mateo. He was a man of his word. And if she could trust that, she should be able to trust that he meant what he’d said about being faithful.
If that were true, what the fuck was she doing?
Her inner voice insisted, Protecting yourself.
She told it to shut up. What she was doing was screwing up her life.
Her voice quivered when she admitted, “He told me he loved me.”
“Fuck Allie, we both knew that. Why did it come as a surprise?”
“He put it out there and I…” She gasped aware of the implication. “I did what I was afraid he’d do to me.”
“Rejected it?”
She hated how that sounded. She hadn’t rejected him. She’d rejected what he might do. Might. Was she still dwelling on what might never happen instead of what was? He was the most beautiful thing that had happened to her.
Know, mi esposa, that I will carry you in my heart always.
“How could I have done that to him?”
“Fear prompts us do some strange and sometimes damaging things.”
Casey sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Because she did.
Allie had spent wasted time trying to untangle the emotions that had knotted in her gut. She’d never get them out, not until she faced the one thing she knew for sure. She loved her husband and she wanted to be with him. Whatever the outcome.
“I’m on my way back. I’ll try to get back for the start of the game.”
So busy seeing the pitfalls, she’d stopped living in today. It was time to get back there. It was where he was, hopefully waiting for her to return to her senses. She needed to be grateful for what she had—a bond so strong it couldn’t be broken. Her heart knew it. Over the last twenty-four hours her brain had begun to see the light and was refusing to squander any more time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mateo had dressed for the game. He knew it was a big one, one that Allie had worried over. The team they were playing was their fiercest rival, and she wanted a win to show them—He just wished he could motivate himself… but without her, he’d lost his compass. He’d wanted to reach out, text her, call, thinking he hadn’t fought hard enough to keep her with him. He’d walked away so easily when what he’d wanted to do was force her to admit…what? That she loved him back? It was obvious she didn’t. Casey had tried to convince him otherwise. Said Allie’s fear was in equal proportion to her love. But he had a hard time believing it. How could fear outweigh love? The kind of devotion he had for her was bottomless.
He rubbed tired, gritty eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since she left, so consumed with loneliness. The guys had tried to keep him busy, especially after his outing yesterday, but nothing had raised his spirits. Not even the fans who were loyal in the face of his disastrous double pump when he let the ball go too late to complete the double play, that he, Ovitz, and dos Santos had become adept at. He’d never let anything affect his game, but she’d crept into his mind so often he couldn’t focus. He needed to be better today. He didn’t want to let her down…
Rique slapped him on the back. “Today’s a new day. You ready?”
Today was a new day, or rather a new place. When he was living there with his wife, it’d held such promise. Now, it was as empty as his heart. No, that wasn’t right. It was still so full of her…
“I will be.”
Mac was standing at the door of the clubhouse as the players made their way out to the dugout and the field, patting their asses, calling out that they had this and that he trusted them to get the job done. After Mateo trotted out to third base, exchanged a couple of around-the-horn throws from the infield players, he grounded himself with the thought that if he couldn’t have her, he’d have this game. He needed to rise to the occasion and prove to himself he could do it. He’d grieve off the field, not on it. He’d put himself on automatic and go with his instincts. He’d repeated his routine enough that he should be able to throw to first in his sleep. And he’d managed to do his job, if not like he could, well enough to keep the bases clear. It helped that
Keogh was on the mound and crushing it. By the fourth inning they were leading two to nothing. Rique had grounded out, and he’d popped out to shallow left, Reyes the only one on base when Ovitz blasted the ball over the wall for a home run. It had put them ahead, but he had wasted his times at bat, and he was beginning to sink into depression. He’d made no contribution to the team in two days out of three. It was not the way to begin his career in America. Baseball was a mental game, but he was dividing his attention between two opposing forces. Thoughts of his wife were pulling him away from the field. He was tired of thinking, tired of concentrating. His mind had not been at rest since Allie let him walk away, and he needed to shut her out, needed to quiet the storm still raging. When the inning was over, he watched from the sidelines. His next time up, he wasted another trip to the plate, his high fly ball easily caught by the center fielder. Keogh was done after the fifth inning, but Mac had kept all of his regulars in to see if they couldn’t turn the tide. Ruis was now on the mound, but he had nothing on the ball and at the end of the inning, the score was Cubs five, Greenies two.
Only when the bench coach yelled over to him did he realize he was next up at bat.
When he went out to the on-deck circle in the seventh inning, his bat felt like lead. He swiveled his head, wanting to work out the kinks, wanting to crawl into a cave and hide, wanting to hit the blasted ball all the way to…wherever Allie had disappeared to.
And then he saw her, standing in the dugout, next to Mac. His heart began to beat again. Just seeing her was balm for his senses. He squinted into the afternoon sun. Was she pointing at him? Or was it his vivid imagination? It had been creating all kind of hallucinations, especially at night, when she’d come to him in his dreams.
He leaned forward, feeling foolish thinking she wanted his attention, when she was probably here to talk to Mac. As she continued gesturing to him, he became certain she was trying to tell him something. He move
d out of the glare and, through the haze, saw her miming something with her hands, which were fisted and over her heart. He shook his head, unable to decipher it. When her fingers created a heart, he glanced up to her face, and as their gazes locked, there was a moment of sizzling awareness and he began to breathe normally for the first time in days. It was only when he heard the crack of Reyes’ bat, that his attention went to the field. He hadn’t realized it, but the pitcher who’d replaced Ruis was on third, Rique was on second, and Reyes had just beat out the perfect bunt and was standing on first. The bases were loaded. This was it. His existential wind had returned, blowing against his back, and a feeling of calm washed over him as he strode to the plate. Before assuming his stance, he glanced back to see Allie still standing there, her hands held tightly in front of her chest.
He nodded to her and he was rewarded with one of her smiles. The power of it settled inside of him and he knew what he was going to do.
It took until the count was three balls and two strikes for him to get the right pitch, but when the Cubs hurler made the mistake of throwing it right over the plate, he swung with one, smooth, clean motion and the ball went careening in the direction of the bleachers and it didn’t drop until it had cleared them.
The fans went wild, the players who’d scored ahead jumped all over him as he cleared home plate, and the rest of the team was waiting to high-five him when he hit the dugout. He scanned the area for the woman who’d been here rooting him on, with her heart in her hands.
But she wasn’t there. He scanned every inch of the dug-out and that’s when he noticed Mac nodding in the direction of the clubhouse. He swiftly descended the few steps it took to reach it, and it was then that he saw her. For one brief moment they stared at each other. His breath held. He didn’t know whether to advance or retreat, but then she was in his arms, apologizing, kissing him, her arms twined around his neck. The several players who’d come in for a drink or to hang out dispersed, giving them privacy. When they were alone, he whispered gruffly into her neck, “It feels good to be alive again, querida.”
Her fingers were threaded through his hair as she pulled him back for another wild and passionate kiss. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe I did that to us. I love you, Mateo. With everything I have, with all of who I am.”
Rique yelled down to them, “Take your time in there. Mac’s pulled us.”
Her eyes met his. “I’m surprised he kept you in that long. Seven innings is a long time for regulars in spring training.”
“I believe it had to do with who we were playing. He wanted to prove something, too.”
“That home run was clutch.”
“I think you told me I was your clutch hit waiting to happen. I couldn’t disappoint you.”
Her hands were cupping his face, and the feel of her skin against his was heaven.
“You could never disappoint me. I hope you can forgive me for my stupid move. But I have to warn you, Mateo. If I find out you’ve—”
He put a finger over her lips, but she took hold of it and pulled it away, never letting it go.
“Let me finish. If I find out you’ve…cheated on me, I swear I’ll make your life so miserable you’d wish you’d never met me.”
“I will not be so cautious with my words. If I find you’ve cheated on me, I will hurt the man you are cheating with.”
She looked up at him, stunned. “Whatever makes you think that could happen?”
“You are on the road as much as I am. And you become close to the players you take on. Why wouldn’t I be as susceptible to worry as you?”
Creases furrowed on her forehead. “I would never do that.”
He kissed her with a hunger he couldn’t deny and growled, “Neither would I. My world is in darkness when you are not part of it.”
He held her, and just the feel of her in his arms was enough to give him the courage to ask, “Would you wear my ring?”
“I am. I haven’t taken it off.”
It’s what had given him a thin thread of hope that she hadn’t left him for good.
“A real one, one that will tell the world that we are married.”
Her eyes glinted with pleasure. “I don’t mind the world knowing anymore.”
He took her hand and led her to his cubby where he fished out a small box. “I bought this while you were on your road trip but hesitated to give it to you until you were ready to wear it.”
He opened it to reveal a tapered pavé halo ring with floral-inspired lines that held over a carat of sparkling diamonds, and it was nestled against a slim wedding band.
She gasped, and he couldn’t fail to notice the tears sheening in her eyes.
With a long, searching look, he admitted, “I forced myself to be careful with my spending. I would have purchased a ring much more expensive, but your voice nagged at my conscience.”
“You couldn’t have gifted me with anything more beautiful than this.”
He removed the ring from the slot and waited for her to slide off his grandfather’s signet. When she had, he slowly set the newer rings in place.
She held up her hand as if transfixed.
“I love it, Mateo.”
“May I have the other again? I have worn it since my grandfather’s death. It is my talisman.”
She gasped at the revelation and met his eyes with an apology. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
As he returned it to its rightful place on the chain he’d worn for over a decade, he said, “Because as long as you were with me, it still worked its magic. It failed only when you left me. Then I had neither of my good luck charms.”
Baseball players tended to be a bit superstitious about such things. Men grew beards during playoffs and didn’t shave until they’d lost, wore the same socks during a hitting streak, wore a number that they’d worn since childhood, went through the same routine every day before a game. He’d been willing to give up his ring as a symbol of his devotion and it hadn’t hurt his play until she’d taken it with her.
Tears misted her eyes. “I should never have left you.”
He brushed her lips with his thumb, still reveling in the feel of her. “If you had to leave in order to return to me, then it was worth the torment.”
They heard the crowd cheering again and he chuckled, “Should we go and catch the rest of the game?”
“I should. I’ve not only missed you; I’ve missed my job. I never realized how much I needed both.”
“I’ll have to make sure you don’t forget.”
He took her hand and walked her up the steps that led to the dugout. It wasn’t unusual for her to be a spectator from this vantage point. She was as much a part of the team as the players, and they’d apparently been aware of her absence. Bellasario joked, “Seems you brought a new and improved third baseman back with you.”
“Not sure he needs improvement.”
There were some quips and teasing that she took in stride. There was a new and improved smile on her face. It was full, sincere, and missing the tentativeness he’d come to expect.
He looked up to see the team had added to the lead while they’d been reconciling. He pointed to the scoreboard, which read eight to five, and asked, “How’d we get the runs?”
Seb said, “Greenwald doubled, Eichele got him to third, and Ciofani hit them both home with a triple.”
Mateo glanced over and asked, “Didn’t you tell me he was Demers’ great-grandson?”
Allie said, “Yeah. He played with Layden last year. He’s going to be good. It’s in the genes.”
“What position?”
“Center field. He’s chomping at the bit to get here, and if he keeps this up, we’ll have to take a serious look at moving him. He’s only twenty and could use a couple more years of seasoning but…I’d love to have him on the bench as a pinch hitter.”
The kid had grown up with the game and probably wouldn’t take as long in the minors as others.
“What’s his average?”
Mateo whistled. Those were great numbers.
Allie offered an experienced observation. “Our minor leaguers don’t see the kind of heat they have here, and the averages always go down when facing pitchers like Reid or Wilms.”
Wilms was the starting pitcher for the Mets yesterday and had pretty much shut them all down with his change-up.
“You missed the game.”
“I listened. I couldn’t believe you double pumped and screwed up that double play.”
“You were too much on my mind. I had to clear my mind of your image on first base. I was afraid I’d hurt you if I threw all out.”
Reyes laughed. “You can’t hurt that girl no matter how hard you throw. She was the catcher one year in our intramural game when Motts came down with the flu, and she got pretty banged up, but never complained once.”
“I’m no girlie girl.” She looked over at Seb and added, a smile twitching her lips, “That would be Casey.” He noticed Seb’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He must know better than most that Casey had inherited very little from her father’s athletic gene pool.
Curious, Mateo asked, “What intramural game?”
She explained, “We play a softball game against the Red Sox every year. It’s a fundraiser for the Dana Farber Jimmy Fund. Reid put it together a few years ago and the teams have to be a mix of both genders. They can’t have more than six men on the field at any time.”
All but crowing, she said, “We’ve won three out of three years.”