“I understand. I’m not trying to push you,” David answers and loops a stray strand of my hair around my ear. “I’ve got news. I was offered partner.”
“Wow. That’s great, and well deserved. I know how hard you worked to get that promotion.”
“I’ll be at the office more, but we can hire a housekeeper. We’ll make it work. I just want our old life back. I love you, Julia.”
I watch David as he walks to the kitchen, feeling uncertain of my future and wishing somehow the right answer would always be easy to see. David waves his finger at me to follow. I head in his direction and watch as he leans down and rummages through his briefcase. He stands back up with a baseball in his hands and tosses it in the air.
“I thought you’d be interested in this,” he says. “I found it while I was downstairs in the utility room looking for an old stack of case files. The ball was right in the middle of the room. I can’t believe we never saw it before.”
“The utility room is the land of unwanted toys. I’m sure we have all kinds of balls and other kid’s stuff strewn all around down there.”
“Maybe so. But this isn’t a regular baseball. It has a signature on it,” David says and cups the ball in the palm of his hand for my inspection.
I take a closer look and then stare in disbelief at the signature.
Reggie Jackson.
“I did some research on the computer right before you got home. This looks like an official Reggie Jackson autographed ball from the 1977 World Series.”
“Game six?” I ask as a chill runs down my spine.
“You got it, the game when Jackson nailed three consecutive home runs on the first pitch to seal the Series for the Yankees. Mr. October. Truth be told, it got me spooked for a minute. It’s quite a coincidence. But then I remembered. When we first bought the house, the previous owners were from New York. They had a huge New York Yankees poster hung up in the garage when we first looked at the place. Remember? It was a framed picture of Reggie Jackson nailing a home run. You thought it was a good sign. The ball must belong to them and they accidentally left it behind when they moved. The ball has to be worth something. I bet our old Realtor could track them down.”
I stare out the window and see Logan playing outside. The sun beams down on him as the Indian summer breeze gently sways the leaves back and forth. I think of the fierce love I have for my children and the enduring love I will always have for my brother.
“No. Don’t call,” I finally answer. “I’d rather not know for sure.”
“Really?” David asks.
“I think, for once, I’d like to believe just maybe there really is some magic in the world.”
I leave David and make my way outside into the warm September morning. I find Logan running back and forth across the yard with his arms open wide like a plane expertly navigating through the clouds. I look up into the blue, endless sky, where time is meaningless, and throw the baseball into the air as high as I can.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Jane Haseldine
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2016933891
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-0405-4
ISBN-10: 1-4967-0405-3
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: July 2016
eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0406-1
eISBN-10: 1-4967-0406-1
First Kensington Electronic Edition: July 2016
The Last Time She Saw Him Page 28