Duke was still grinning after she dropped Joe off and turned the RAV4 toward Charlie’s preschool. “You ready for school, buddy?”
He didn’t respond. He often got lost in his own world, but he’d been subdued all morning. She glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes were heavy, like he was seconds away from nodding off.
“Char, Char, Charlie,” she sang. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
He gave a little pitiful whimper. She’d heard him scream and shout and cry. She’d seen temper tantrums and excitement. She’d even had him fall asleep in her arms, but she’d never heard him whine. The hair on her arms stood up in some sort of premonition or instinct. Something was wrong. She pulled over in the first parking lot she found and hopped out.
“Charlie, what’s wrong?”
His bottom lip quivered, and her heart ached. She didn’t care about being late or standing exposed in a bank parking lot as traffic buzzed by. She wanted to hold him, to soothe him. She unstrapped his car seat and pulled him into her arms. “Come here, sweet boy.”
He rested his head on her shoulder, and she rubbed his back gently. Even through his shirt, heat radiated off his skin. “You’re burning up.”
She held him back to put her hand on his forehead in time for him to cough, choke, and then vomit down the entire length of her arm. She was so shocked she froze, and the second wave hit her, too, before she could react. She angled his body away from her, then ran toward the small strip of grass between the parking lot and the street. Charlie continued to throw up the eggs he’d eaten for breakfast along with several things Duke didn’t recognize, not that she was trying to examine it too closely. Still, the sight wasn’t nearly as troubling as the smell. She fought to breathe through her mouth and focus on Charlie instead of thinking about what she was covered in.
“Okay, okay, okay, you’re okay,” she muttered to both herself and to Charlie. “Everything’s okay. I can handle this.”
As Charlie’s vomiting subsided, he began to cry, and the instincts that had emerged earlier returned. The desire to comfort him overshadowed her own gag reflex. She kissed his head and rubbed his back, then carried him carefully back to the car. She found a bottle of water and used it to douse her arm the best she could, then gave it to Charlie. “Just a little sip, okay?”
He nodded and tipped the bottle up in his tiny trembling hands. He sipped, then grimaced. “Tastes bad.”
“I know. Put some in your mouth then spit it out, like toothpaste.”
He tried it, then almost smiled when the water splattered against the pavement.
“Better?”
“My tummy hurts.”
“I bet. Mine’s churning a little bit, too.” She stared at him for a second. What was she supposed to do now? She’d never dealt with a sick kid before. Did he need to go to the doctor? Back to bed? Should she make soup? What about medicine? It seemed like he had a fever, but she didn’t have a thermometer. Oh Lord, was she going to have to use a rectal thermometer? She hadn’t even considered what that would entail.
Of course she’d spent plenty of time dreaming of being a permanent part of the kids’ lives, but when she thought about parenting the boys, she always imagined birthday parties and story times, family vacations and baseball games. Never once had she considered the possibility of being puked on. “What are we going to do now?”
“I want to go home,” Charlie said.
“Right,” she sighed. Home made the most sense. Then she could call Molly.
*
“Hello?” Molly whispered loud enough to be heard over the clanging of pots and pans in the background.
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you at work, but—”
“You just had to hear how my interview went?” Molly laughed. “You’re wonderful.”
Shit. The interview. How had she forgotten? Oh yeah, a three-year-old had coated her in vomit and everything else had sort of slipped her mind.
“I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think the partners were impressed. A lot of nodding, a lot of smiling.”
“That’s great, Mol. I knew you’d do great but—”
“They said they should know by the end of the week if I got the job, so we can either celebrate or commiserate this weekend.”
Duke rubbed her face with her free hand. She didn’t want to trample on Molly’s accomplishment. She deserved this moment, but a sick kid trumped everything. “Charlie threw up.”
“What?” Everything about Molly’s voice changed, the volume, the tone, and the pitch. She went from an excited up-and-coming manager to mama lion instantly.
“He didn’t seem to feel good on the way to school, so I pulled over and he threw up. I’m pretty sure he has a fever, too.”
“Where is he?”
“We’re back at the apartment. I got him cleaned up and changed, and he fell asleep on my shoulder.”
“Oh, Duke, I’m so glad he’s with you.”
“Thanks?”
“No, I didn’t mean I’m glad you have to deal with this, but if he couldn’t be with me, I’m glad he’s with someone who loves him.”
“But I don’t know what to do.” Her heartbeat still raced.
“Sounds like you did great.”
“Doesn’t he need a doctor or something?”
“If he’s sleeping now and doesn’t seem to be in pain, it’s probably a stomach bug.”
“What about the fever? Shouldn’t I give him something?”
“If it’s a low-grade fever, I try to let it run its course. It’s nature’s way of fighting back. There’s an ear thermometer in his bathroom medicine cabinet along with some Tylenol. If you’re worried, you can give him the dosage on the bottle, but if he’s resting peacefully, I wouldn’t worry.”
Why wasn’t Molly freaking out? “I don’t know anything about taking care of sick kids. He was sad and scared, Mol. He whimpered. Charlie whimpered.”
“I know it’s hard. It breaks my heart every time, but this is part of parenthood. Kids get sick. This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, especially since he’s in preschool.”
Her chest constricted at the idea of her being a parent. She wanted that, and she certainly loved Charlie, but that didn’t mean she was qualified for the job. “I think I should call the babysitter.”
“You can’t have a babysitter watch a sick kid, Duke.” Molly’s voice held a blend of amusement and disbelief. “Relax and trust your instincts.”
Her instincts told her two different things. Part of her knew Molly was right. Charlie needed a parent right now, but the other part of her said she needed to get to work. Work was safe, work was what she knew, work was where she felt in control. “How soon can you get home?”
“I can’t get off early today.” Molly’s voice fell back to a whisper. “The owners are here. My promotion’s on the line.”
“But the Pirates are in town,” Duke countered, “with second place on the line.”
Molly fell silent. If not for the restaurant noise in the background, Duke would’ve thought the call dropped. “Are you still there?”
Molly sighed. “I’m waiting for you to realize you put the National League standings above caring for a sick kid.”
“That’s not fair. I got puked on, for crying out loud. Maybe you’re used to that, but you can’t expect me to jump into this with no warning, no training, during the biggest series of the year so far.”
“No, you know what’s not fair? All your talk about being a team, all of your corny lines about taking care of each other, because you don’t mean any of them. What you mean is you want to be part of our family when it’s convenient for you and drop us when it’s not.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable. I’m not running out on you or Charlie. I have to work.”
“I have to work, too. I used vacation days to come to Chicago with you. I left early twice last week so you could spend time with the kids before your games. I did that because I wanted you to be a part of
our lives, because I’m trying to be supportive of you, but now I’m up for a big promotion, and I’m not seeing the same kind of commitment from you.”
Duke’s head throbbed. She saw Molly’s point, but she’d given up a lot lately, too. She’d had people cover for her more than she should have lately, and they were in the middle of a pennant race. “Tonight’s game is important. I can’t use my vacation time right now.”
“Is that some rule from your editor?”
“No, I mean not a written rule, but—”
“So what you’re saying isn’t that you can’t miss the game, it’s that you won’t.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I guess. I’m giving you every waking minute I’m not working, but I can’t risk losing my job.”
“What about my job? Why is your work more important than mine?”
“I’m a professional sportswriter. You’re just a waitress.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to reel them back in. She would’ve gladly choked on them, but she couldn’t have them back.
“So much for being part of a team.” Molly’s words were clipped, her voice cold. Duke remembered the hollow sound, the one that came with the walls she’d worked so hard to get past. “I’ll be home in half an hour.”
“No, Molly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You don’t have to come right away. I meant…can’t we compromise…Molly?” The line went dead. Molly was on her way home, and for the first time Duke wasn’t looking forward to seeing her walk through the door.
*
Duke jumped to her feet as soon as she heard Molly’s key in the door, and she was apologizing even before she came fully into view. “I’m so sorry. I was an ass. I was scared. I messed up.”
Molly didn’t even look her in the eye as she walked right past. Duke followed her down the hall.
“Molly, I know your job’s important to you. I know you worked hard for this promotion,” she whispered as they neared Charlie’s door, then fell silent as Molly opened it.
She watched Molly bend over her sleeping son. She gently pushed aside his sand-colored curls and rested her hand lightly on his forehead for a few seconds. He didn’t stir. He looked almost cherubic there, sleeping peacefully; the hint of rose in his chubby cheeks the only evidence of his illness. Molly kissed his head lightly, then tucked his security blanket under his arm.
She moved with such grace and tenderness, a natural mother and such a strong contrast to Duke’s fear and bumbling. Molly rose and left the room, brushing by Duke like a cloud of ice.
Back in the living room, she tried again. “Molly I’m sorry. I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you ran. There was a crisis here, a conflict that made you uncomfortable, so you did what you always do: you tried to bolt back to baseball,” Molly said calmly. “That’s where you want to be. That’s where you feel safe and in control. My family doesn’t make you feel any of those things.”
My family.
Not our family.
Molly had once again put the walls around her world, around the things she needed to protect, and Duke was on the outside. Little more than a stranger. No, that wasn’t true. Even when they’d first met, Molly’d had a fire in her eyes, but it wasn’t there anymore. When Molly finally looked at her now, that deep brown gaze was empty, and Duke felt herself falling into the void.
“Molly, please. Can’t we just talk about this? I think it was a misunderstanding. Let me tell you what happened.”
Nothing.
No response at all.
She might as well have been talking to the walls.
“Molly,” she said, exasperated at being shut out.
“What are you still doing here?”
“I’m trying to explain.”
“I didn’t come home for an explanation. I came because you said you had to go to work. So go.”
She’d been dismissed. Coolly, calmly, and completely detached, Molly had not made a request. She’d ended their non-conversation and all but showed her the door. She’d been so prepared for Molly’s anger, but this nothingness was new. Sadly, Duke’s confusion and uncertainty was not. She’d grown so accustomed to apologizing, to feeling guilty, to always trying to make up for something, that it almost felt natural now. So she did what had come to be her default over the past few months: she gave in to what Molly wanted and walked out the door.
*
Duke stared at the expanse of Busch Stadium from the large open windows of the press booth. Six months ago, she didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of this view, and even now it stirred too many emotions to name. Not sadness or regret, though she did feel those things. The view inspired something deeper, something soothing, something comforting but empty. She didn’t know she could ever feel so alone in the midst of forty thousand fans, and she never knew the middle of September in St. Louis could feel so cold. Then again, it wasn’t the stadium or the weather making her feel those things. The empty chill clearly emanated from her own heart.
“Are you going down to the stands?” Coop’s voice startled her. She hadn’t even seen him sit down.
“What?”
“It’s a home game. You always leave the press box about now.”
“I’m surprised you notice. I wouldn’t think you cared about my habits.”
“I’m a reporter. I notice things. Doesn’t mean I care.”
She nodded at the subtle truth of their lives, or maybe their differences. Duke cared about all of it. She cared so much she couldn’t juggle everything. Well, tonight she didn’t have to. Molly and the boys weren’t in the stands. She had nothing to focus on but her job. So why couldn’t she? She’d finally separated her love life from her professional life. She should’ve been more clearheaded than she’d been in weeks.
“So are you going or not? It kind of gives me time to spread out,” Cooper said, elbowing into her space.
“Not.”
“Why? This crowd isn’t interesting enough for you?”
“No, actually, it’s not. It’s just the people…I don’t have any reason—ugh, do you have kids?”
“Sure. Two of ’em, one from each ex-wife.”
“I didn’t know. How old are they?”
“Sylvie is eight. Will is eleven. No, wait. Sylvie’s eleven, Will is thirteen, maybe.” He paused and tapped several fingers as though silently counting. “One of ’em just had a birthday. Sylvie. She was born during a stretch run. Will, during spring training.”
“You can’t remember how old your kids are?”
“Things start to slip your mind when you’re my age.”
He couldn’t have been more than forty-five. “What’s Cayden Brooks’s batting average?”
“He’s up to .292,” Coop answered effortlessly.
She waited for him to show some sort of chagrin, but none came.
“If you’re hoping to guilt me into admitting I’m not the world’s most attentive parent, I’ll gladly do so, but don’t get all judgy until you’ve been there. There are only so many hours in a day, and our job eats up most of them. If you ever have kids, you’ll be the same way.”
Duke opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. What had she wanted to disagree with? That she had been in his position? That she wasn’t like him?
He turned away to stare out across the field. “I could be a part-time parent. I could spend the whole off-season with them, go to the park or the movie or whatever they like to do, but when spring training rolls around again, I’m going to hop on the caravan. It’s what I do, who I am. I’d only end up resenting them if I tried to be someone else.”
“Don’t you wish you had some time with them? Isn’t a little bit better than nothing?”
“Maybe for some people, but I don’t like to do things halfway, and I can’t give up the game. Parenting’s a full-time, two-person job. If I’m not up for the task, why not step out of the way and let someone who’s able and willing get the job done right?”
She would’ve argued with hi
m. She would’ve told him he couldn’t talk about people’s lives like he talked about laying down a bunt, but she couldn’t have made herself heard over the echoes ricocheting through her brain. She heard Cooper say, “I can’t give up the game.” She heard Molly say, “So much for being part of a team.” Her father’s voice filtered through the clutter, too. “That’s not fair to either of you…you can’t give one hundred percent to two different things.”
She shook her head, trying to silence the rumblings of her conscience. Could they all be right? Was she being unfair to Molly and the kids by not being there enough, or was she being unfair by even being there at all? She didn’t want to let them go. She didn’t want to let them down. But was being part of a team or a family really about what she wanted? What about the good of the team?
Bottom of the Eighth
There’s No Crying in Baseball
“Hey.” Duke slipped in the front door and closed it behind her quietly. “I’m glad you’re still up.”
Molly didn’t know what time it was. She hadn’t looked at the clock or done any of the post-game mental countdown she’d grown accustomed to. She hadn’t tried to calculate when Duke would get home or figure out how much sleep they’d be able to get before the boys woke up. So much of her time with Duke had been spent either counting time away or trying to keep from counting the time they had left. She couldn’t tell which was harder, but now she’d have her answer.
“I left as soon as the post-game press conference ended,” Duke continued as she set her messenger bag on the table, then flopped onto the couch next to Molly. “I know I made a mistake today, Mol. I’m sorry. I should have…” Her voice trailed off, and Molly followed Duke’s gaze to the suitcase on the floor in front of them, then back to her. She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to. Her expressive eyes widened, then shimmered in the dim light as the questions, the understanding, the hurt ran their course.
“Please don’t do this. I know I made an error. I should’ve stayed here today, for you, for Charlie, for our team.” Her voice cracked, and it took all of Molly’s strength not to crack along with it.
Heart of the Game Page 25