by Jean Joachim
The man took her by one arm and Matt supported the other. Slowly, they made their way up the muddy incline to the ambulance. When he looked up, his buddies were standing there, breathing heavy.
“She okay?” Dan asked.
“We’ll find out,” Matt said.
“Hey, look. Reinforcements from the Nighthawks!” one of the firemen said.
“What can we do?” Skip asked.
“We’ve got a busload of injured women down there. Sure could use your help.”
Jake, Bobby, Dan, Skip, and Nat stepped forward.
Dusty turned to the men. She touched Nat’s arm. “Nicki’s in there.”
“What?”
“I think she passed out.”
Nat nodded then led the ’Hawks down the hill. Matt walked her to the ambulance. She hopped inside.
“Relative?” the EMT asked Matt.
“No, but…”
“Then, you’ll have to wait outside.”
The sky had brightened, and the water falling from the sky had diminished to a drizzle. Matt paced. Cars started to move again. He stopped to watch his buddies taking orders from the firemen and helping with the rescue. Nat came out carrying Nicki in his arms. She was moving, but not coherent when he reached the road.
Dusty was coming out of the ambulance, her head bandaged. She moved to the side to make room for her friend. Nat put Nicki down gently on a gurney, and the EMT guy took her inside.
“Are you okay?”
“Just a cut on my scalp. He stitched it up. Might have a headache, but I’ll be fine.”
“Stitches? I didn’t hear any screaming.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “I’ll take you back to my hotel.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You can’t stay here. And that bus isn’t moving any time soon.”
“The company is sending another one.”
“But you could stay with me. You need someone to look after you.”
“You’re busy. You must have a game, if not tomorrow, then the day after. Right?”
He nodded.
“I can take care of myself. I need to look after Nicki too.”
“But I want to.”
“Matt, we’re not engaged anymore. We’re not lovers or anything.”
“Friends?”
She made a face. “I can’t do that. No. I don’t want to be friends.”
As if Van Helsing had stuck a dagger in his heart, Matt felt excruciating pain. Did he want to be friends? No. He wanted to be lovers, to be married, for her to give up her career. “You still want to play ball? Didn’t this show you that I’m not worried for no reason?
“Accidents happen. You can’t predict them. It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”
“But you understand my…concern?”
“I do. I always have. But I can’t live my life worried about what bad things might happen.”
“You haven’t lived through it. You don’t know.”
“That’s right. I don’t. And I hope I never do. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I love you, Dusty. I’d do anything for you.”
“Anything? I don’t think so. You won’t marry me.”
“You won’t quit softball.”
She shook her head. “Same old, same old.”
“Are you Dusty?” the EMT asked.
“Yes.”
“Your friend is asking for you.”
“I’ve gotta go. Thank you again, Matt.” She hugged him then reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He squeezed her until she cried out in pain.
“Oh, God. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. That didn’t used to hurt. Have a good life.”
“Love you, babe,” he said, letting her go.
She disappeared into the ambulance. They loaded on two more girls, shut the doors, and took off, lights flashing, siren blaring.
Someone touched his shoulder. It was Dan.
“Ready to go?”
Matt nodded. That would be the last he’d see of Dusty. Heaviness weighed down his heart. He sneezed. For the first time, he realized he was drenched and cold.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Jake suggested, walking along the shoulder toward the van.
“I need a hot bath.” Matt swiped at the mud caked on his butt.
“You need that bath now,” Nat said.
“Do we have to get in the car with him?” Bobby asked.
“You’re no bouquet of roses, either,” Matt responded.
“I smell a lot better than you do.”
“We’ll open the windows,” Skip said.
“Pee-yew!” Dan said. “Can we put him in the back?”
“I’m not sitting back there with him. He goes up front with you,” Jake said.
Each guy slapped Matt on the back as he passed. They laughed as they argued over where he should sit.
“Let’s strap him to the roof,” Bobby said.
Though his heart ached, he couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something great about the company of Nighthawks.
* * * *
They returned to the hotel. The clerk was thrilled to have his van back in one piece. Matt spent half an hour in the shower, ordered food up, and went to bed. In the morning, he chartered a private plane and flew the players home to New York.
They headed straight to the stadium. The six men went for a run before their workouts. Matt hit the machines. Exercise was the only cure he knew for a broken heart.
Lunch awaited the team. As he was finishing his food, Cal Crawley stopped by.
He rested a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Stop by my office when you finish here, Matt.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cal nodded and left the room.
“Uh oh. What did you do now?” Dan looked sideways at his friend.
“Nothing. Honest. I have no idea what this is about.”
Nerves kicked up as Matt approached the manager’s office. Cal was a man of few words. If he wanted to see you, something important was up. Dread filled the catcher. The last thing he needed now was more bad news. He took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in, Matt. Sit down,” Cal said.
The cordial attitude of his manager was new to Matt. Cal Crawley didn’t waste time, didn’t lavish praise on his players, and didn’t bust their chops too badly when they fucked up. He took a chair across the desk from his boss.
“What’s up, Cal?”
“Just wanted to have a little chat.”
“Oh?” Matt raised his eyebrows.
“You know my wife, Anne, don’t you?”
Matt nodded.
“Well, she wasn’t the first.”
“What?”
“Nope. There was someone before her. Yeah. It was Francine. She was the love of my life. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out for us.”
Matt could hardly believe his ears. Was his manager opening up about his personal life? Was this really Cal Crawley or some imposter? “That’s too bad.”
“It was. At the time. I was real upset when we ended it.”
“I’m sure you were.” Matt had no clue where this was going.
“My game went right into the toilet. But I had a wise trainer. He told me to work it out in the gym, but that on the field, I had to become Superman. I had to suck it up and not let a broken heart affect my game.”
Ah, now Jackson knew where Cal was headed. “And how did you do that?”
“I forced myself to shove Francie out of my brain. I learned to focus so hard that nothing could distract me.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Hell, yeah. I got real good at it. It’s one of the things that gave me the highest batting average on the team. And my fielding record was the best that year too.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Cal chuckled. “I remember Francie coming to me after we’d won the Series. She was surprised. St
umped, actually. Seems she’d expected me to be so tore up inside, I’d have to give up the game. But I’d fooled her.”
“You did.”
“Son, I want you to learn from that story. I know you’re, well, not yourself right now. But you’ve got to put that behind you. You’ve got a good record going this year, Matt. We’re hitting the playoffs in another two weeks.”
“I know.”
“You’ve got to get it together. I’d hate to pull you from any more games. You need to get your focus clear. Hell, off the field, fall apart all you want. But when you’re here, you need to be here one hundred fifty percent.”
“I get it.”
“I knew you would. End of the story is that three months later, I met Anne. We were engaged within six months, married before a year. She was the right one for me. I’ve never regretted it and never looked back.”
“Great story, sir.”
“Good. I hope you can get past this, Matt. We need you to be in top form. The playoffs won’t be easy. Neither will the Series, if we’re lucky enough to get there.”
“I’ll be there for you, Cal. You’ll see. I can get my focus back.”
“Good to hear, son. Now, go out there today and beat the shit out of the Badgers.”
“I will. I promise.”
Cal and Matt shook hands, and the younger man left. First private, personal pep talk. He’s right. I need to get Dusty out of my mind during the game. Having no idea how to do that, he approached Vic Steele.
“Okay, Matt. I put together a special program just for you. It won’t give you a minute to think about chicks or a drop of energy to waste on anything except baseball.”
The catcher slapped him on the back. “Thanks, Vic,” he said, and ran out onto the field. It was time to start the game against the Baltimore Badgers. Could Matt shoulder the responsibility of guiding his team to victory so soon after his break-up? Only time would tell.
Chapter Sixteen
Between Vic Steele’s rigorous exercise program and the ’Hawks’ infielders not leaving Matt alone for five minutes, he rarely had time to be depressed or miss Dusty. But at night in bed, alone, he did think of her. Had he done the right thing? Would he regret his decision forever? He doubted his judgment and wallowed in self-pity, remembering how her skin felt, what she smelled like, and the power of her kiss.
Matt had come to hate waking up without Dusty. The happiest moments in his life had occurred each morning, at sunrise, when she’d been there with him in his bed. He’d lost that, and no amount of exercise, booze, or buddies would erase that pain.
But Matt Jackson was a pro. No one was going to interfere with his concentration and screw up his game for long. By the playoffs, he was back full force. Unbeknownst to the guys, Matt had taken to carrying Dusty’s engagement ring in his pocket as good luck. At the stadium, he’d stow it in his locker. It had worked too. His fielding percentage was still the second highest on the team—Nat Owen, first baseman, was highest. And Matt’s batting average had climbed to .275.
Having won their divisional championship against the Boston Bluejays, the Nighthawks were battling the Carolina Tigers in the playoffs. It was a toss-up who the winner would play in the World Series. Either the Portland Kingpins or the San Francisco Huskies would be their opponents, if they beat the Tigers.
Matt had had several key hits in the short, divisional series. Jake Lawrence had excelled at clean-up. He’d nailed the third game with a grand slam homerun in the top of the ninth. After pitching the first game in the divisionals, Dan Alexander returned to the mound in the third game of the playoffs. Jackson wondered if that had been a good idea, keeping their best pitcher under wraps until so late in the series.
Cal explained that if they didn’t win the division, there would be no playoffs. The catcher was hard pressed to argue with that logic. The first two games had been split. Carolina won the first on their home turf, and the ’Hawks had won the second. Because the Nighthawks didn’t have the home field advantage, winning the second game in Carolina gave them a leg up.
They traveled back to New York for the next three games. If they could win all of those, then they’d have triumphed in the playoffs and would go on to play the World Series. Matt had his routine down pat now. He’d grown accustomed to being alone again. The men banded together, taking their meals together, especially on the road.
Freddie’s stocked up on high protein specials. The infielders had their table reserved, and Matt licked his lips in anticipation of Tommy’s excellent cooking. To take the pressure off, the men began their ‘hot chick’ game in the dugout for game one at home.
Then, it happened.
“I don’t think we should play,” Chet said.
“Me neither,” Bobby joined in.
“Give everyone their money back,” Jake said.
“What the hell?” Matt cocked an eyebrow at his teammates. None of them could look him in the eye. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We think we should focus on the game’s all,” Skip lied.
“Bullshit. Tell me the truth.”
“Dusty and Nicki are sitting in the stands,” Nat blurted out.
Every man on the team cussed the first baseman out.
“Dusty’s here? Where?” Matt leaned out a bit and turned his gaze to the spectators. Sure enough, in a heartbeat, he picked out the hot chick with almost-red hair. Her gaze connected with his. She waved and blew him a kiss.
When he turned back, all eyes were on him. Worried expressions covered the faces of his friends.
“So?” He shrugged.
“You okay?” Dan Alexander asked.
“Of course, I’m okay. Nice of her to come to the game,” Matt said, ignoring the rapid increase of his heartrate.
“That’s good. For a moment there—well…we don’t want her being here to fuck up the playoffs,” Skip said.
“It won’t. Believe me. Come on, guys. I’m totally focused.” Matt turned his attention back to the field.
“Really? Then, how come you’re here and not in the on-deck circle,” Jake asked.
“Shit,” Matt said, hustling his butt up the stairs.
True to his word, Matt narrowed his eyes at the pitcher, checked out the fielders, and made his plan. He hit a blooper over the head of the short-stop to move Nat to second. Chet Candelaria knocked Nat home on a grounder to right field.
The Nighthawks squeaked out a two to one win in the third game. The men showered then headed to Freddie’s. Tonight was chicken fried steak with fries on special. Matt had half expected Dusty to be waiting for him after the game, but she hadn’t been. Maybe that was for the best.
When he arrived at Freddie’s with Bobby, Dusty and Nicki were sitting at a table for two on the side. Nat stood over there talking and nursing a beer. Matt and Bobby headed for their regular spots. The catcher looked over at his pretty ex-girlfriend and smiled. Damn, she looked great! He nodded once, and she raised a palm in answer. He considered inviting her to join him, but was afraid she’d turn him down.
With their heads almost together, Nat and Nicki appeared to be in some heavy discussion. Dusty stood up. The empty plates indicated they’d finished eating. She’s not going to leave without even talking to me, is she?
She headed toward him, walking slowly. She’s waiting for me to do or say something, isn’t she? He stood up and pulled out a chair.
“Can I buy you a beer?”
A broad smile lit up her face. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Thanks for coming to the game.” He signaled Tommy.
“It was amazing. Congratulations. You were fine.”
“Thanks. It was a team effort.” He lowered his gaze.
“You were great,” she said.
Tommy brought another beer and placed it in front of her. Dusty took a drink.
“It’s been a while,” Matt said, for lack of anything better to say. No way could he express his true feelings.
“A while? Fifty-seven days, counting t
oday. To be exact.” She stared at her hands.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, touching his forearm.
That did it. His control held by a thread. Once she touched him, he was a goner.
“I’ve missed you—wow.”
“Does that mean a lot?”
He nodded and took a bite of his food.
“Me too.” Her voice was low.
“Seeing anyone?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. Why was he always doing that? Especially around her.
“Nope. You?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Me neither.”
“Aren’t we a couple of players?” She said, laughing.
He cracked a grin. It was like they had never been apart. Dusty busied herself with her beverage, and he searched for something smart to say, but came up with nothing. At least she wasn’t dating anyone else.
Nicki and Nat joined them.
“I gotta go, Dusty,” Nicki said, glancing at her watch.
“Okay. Just let me finish.” She drained the glass and pushed to her feet. “Thanks for the beer.”
“Thanks for coming to the game and stopping by here.”
“Of course. No reason not to say hello, right? It’s not like we’re enemies or anything.” Her brief smile didn’t make it to her eyes. She looked the way he felt—sad.
“No, no. Of course not. We’ll never be enemies, will we?”
“I hope not,” she replied.
The thought of her hating him chilled him. He took her hand between his. “Great to see you. You look, well, great.”
“So do you. Good luck tomorrow,” she said.
“Come on. You’ll be here all night,” Nicki said, tugging on Dusty’s sleeve.
And just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. His heart ached. He’d have thought that time passing would have dulled how much he’d cared for her, but it hadn’t. If anything, his desire for her had only grown.
He shoved it back down inside, refusing to give in to sadness and turned to Nat.
“So, are you getting laid tonight or what?”
* * * *
“I never should have let you talk me into going to Freddie’s,” Dusty said, walking briskly toward the subway.