Curveball Baby

by J. M. Maurer

  As we near the square, strings of Christmas lights along Main Street glisten. The trees are lit and the bandstand shines beautiful and bright among them. Turning the corner and rolling to a stop, Ben shifts into PARK, and then moves to help me out. My incision burns with each bend and twist I make. I wince and draw in a calming breath, letting the crisp night air and the smell of pine refresh my senses.

  Mrs. Tinley slips into my seat and tells us to take our time. From the smile on her face and the way she shoos us away with the flick of her wrist, I get the impression she’s more than happy to watch over the baby. With my hand in his, Ben helps me up the steps of the bandstand. Once up, I don’t see Mr. Jenkins. In fact, other than a large envelope that’s perched on a few of the branches of the Christmas tree, I don’t see much of anything. But I do recognize that the scribbled writing on the envelope clearly says Addison.

  Raising a brow, I let my mind swirl with questions and my gaze check out the envelope. As if sensing I’ve seen it, Ben snags the envelope and promptly hands it over to me.

  I flip it front to back. “Hmm. I wonder what this is all about.”

  Ben doesn’t offer an answer; a hopeful glint just shines in his eyes.

  Intrigued, I go to open the flap to peek inside, but pause, hearing carolers nearby. They’re singing “Christmas Means Forgiveness” by The Royal, and their cheery voices are growing louder as Ben couples a wink with his irresistible grin. I get the feeling the carolers are part of whatever’s going on. It’s now obvious that Ben has everything to do with this stop and Mr. Jenkins is merely playing along. Ben all but confirms my suspicion when he moves his fingers down my face and trails a slow line across my lips with his index finger.

  After a moment, he taps my lips with his finger and lifts his gaze up to the ceiling. “You know, I never got my kiss the last time we were here. But now I’ve got you right where I want you, right here, in my arms, under the mistletoe.”

  I look up, seeing a ball of green with tiny white berries. However, I don’t need an excuse to kiss Ben; I’d gladly kiss him anywhere, anytime.

  “Some say mistletoe is the plant of peace,” he continues, watching me as I return my gaze to his. “And I feel the need to say I’m sorry. I should have told you about this from the beginning.”

  He’s sorry? For what? I’m not following him at all. Perhaps he’s talking about Marissa. I’m not sure. He’s already explained who she is, and on more than one occasion after my delivery. And I know it’s not about the speeding ticket Rusty gave him because Ben also reassured me that whole ordeal was an oversight on his part, that he’d stashed the ticket in the pocket of his door and completely forgot about it. His bouncy laughter at the time I mentioned it confirmed he wasn’t hiding the ticket from me on purpose.

  And I believe him.

  “I wasn’t thinking when I went and did what I did,” Ben admits, his breath visible in the air. “At first, I just wanted to give you a gift. It honestly didn’t cross my mind that I should have asked you about it first. Or that maybe you wouldn’t want what’s inside the envelope.”

  Hearing him, I squeeze the secret in my hands, racking my brain, thinking about what could possibly be inside. I don’t seem to come up with any possible conclusions, so I table my curiosity as Ben’s expression moves from nervous to notably serious.

  “But Addison, you need to know that I’ve had my time in baseball. I’ve celebrated with my teammates on many occasions. Been a part of some amazing things because of my career. But at the end of the day, what I truly want…they can’t give me. I’ve lived my dream. A dream I was never able to share with my family. And now I have a new dream. I want to be a good dad, one who’s around to see our kids grow up and one day help make their dreams come true. Being around your family isn’t always possible with baseball. But it’s what I want. And to make that happen, I need to be here. With you. Because you are my family, Addison. And more than anything, a life of forever with you is all I want. I hope you’ll remember that as you open the envelope.”

  Peering back at Ben, I replay his words in my mind and my pulse ramps up. I’ve long since tuned out the carolers, but I haven’t forgotten about the envelope in my hands. Glancing down, I take a brief moment to ponder its contents and wonder what I’m holding that’s got Ben appearing as anxious as he is.

  I take his hand. “Not in a million Christmases could I ever forget what you just said. Although I can’t fathom what it’s like to end a career in baseball, I know what it’s like to want a family. I wish for a family of my own too, Ben.” With you, and probably more often than you know. “I love that you think of me as family. And you should know I feel the same about you. Right now, I’m not sure who’s more nervous. Me or you.” I lift the envelope, bringing it into Ben’s view. “Shall I go ahead and take a peek?”

  Ben nods. I take my first glimpse at the papers tucked inside. At the top of a stack is a picture of Ben sitting on the front porch of the home I grew up in. He’s smiling. Looks as happy as I’ve ever seen him.

  Moving to the second page, I see Ben’s written a note:

  My dearest Addison,

  When I asked you to move in with me, I meant for it to be forever. I honestly can’t think of a better place for our family to grow up and us to grow old together.

  It’s all he’s written, so I turn to the next page. After a brief moment, I realize I’m holding a deed of sale. And it’s not just any deed. It’s one listing Ben and me as the owners of my childhood home.

  Not believing what I’m seeing, I suck in a breath, my eyes stinging from the cold air as moisture begins filling in and blurring my view. How is this even possible? When did Ben do this? And now the reason for seeing Marissa at the house is starting to make better sense.

  Overwhelmingly astonished, I blink through a well of tears and reach out to Ben. But doing so just doesn’t seem to encompass the full nature of what I’m feeling. So I pull him into my arms and press my cheek to his chest, crinkling the papers as he wraps me in an embrace that further warms my heart.

  “I don’t quite know what to say.” My voice catches on a sniffle. I squeeze him even harder, listening to the staccato of his heartbeat, feeling thankful for everything he’s done for me, for us.

  “Just hold me for a moment.” His breath warms my ear. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  I squeeze tighter and savor the moment wrapped in his arms, taking in the ending of the “Carol of the Bells.” When the song is over, I turn to address the carolers, but a teenage boy who lifts a glove-covered hand catches me off guard. He slips a clear glass ornament into my hand, and with a smile tells me it’s mine to keep.

  Ben takes the papers, leaving me holding the ribbon from the ornament. It’s accented with a little blue bow on the top. I smile and say, “Thanks.”

  Returning the smile, the teen congratulates us on having a baby, then moves back to his spot with the carolers in the crowd.

  I peer down through the glass and recognize the Christmas star inside.

  After a beat, Ben gently lifts the ornament from my hands. “With warmth I’d never felt filling my heart, I followed a similar star and returned right back here to Willow Run.”

  My heart seems to freeze, then pound as I feel a slight tap against the back of my shoulder. I turn, meeting the gaze of a teenage girl, her red hair shining under the lights of the bandstand.

  “For you,” she says, her smile as wide as her green eyes, which are just as beautiful as the season.

  I thank her with a smile of my own, then thread my finger through the loop, my heart already attached to the gift that’s topped with yet another tiny blue bow. One by one, the teens make their way up the steps of the bandstand and hand over another gift, each one with the same little blue bow. Before I know it, Ben’s placed sixteen ornaments on the tree. With the lights from the bandstand glinting off the glass, the ornaments tell the story of Christmas, just as they would if they were part of a Nativity scene.

  Stari
ng at the tree, nearly forgetting I’m outside on Christmas Eve, I feel a tug against my coat. It’s followed by a voice I know. “Addison.”

  I turn, meeting Tommy’s gaze. He looks quite different in his scarf and coat than the hunting gear I last saw him in. He hands me a small box with the now-familiar little blue bow on top. Inside is a larger ornament with an inscription written around the side. I can’t completely read what it says, so I lift it out of the box.

  You’re the star that lights up my life.

  I love you more than anything.

  Addison Isabelle Hunt, will you marry me?

  Twenty-four teenage carolers and a few residents who were out and about hold their breath as a dome of silence blankets the air surrounding us. For once, even though the town seems to know what’s going on in my life before I do, they don’t know my answer to Ben Peterson’s question.

  But I do.

  And I relish the moment, taking a mental snapshot of the scene, and memorize Ben’s expression as he waits patiently down on one knee. As expectant blue eyes gaze up at me, he lifts his brows high up on his forehead and nods in an attempt to get me to answer.

  Unable to wait any longer, I flash him a smile I’ve reserved for just this very moment. When I open my mouth to speak, a mixture of voices suddenly fills the air behind me, drowning me out.

  “Did she say yes?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can someone please find out?”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell me we did all this for nothing.”

  My hearts bursts with joy. I’ve had my moment. I lock my sight in on Ben and shout, “Yes.” Then I throw my arms around him, just as he stands and lifts my body into a gentle spin. “Yes,” I squeal once more, clutching a tight hold on the precious ornament in my hands.

  “Addison,” Tommy says, and then taps my arm, the action snaring my attention. “The ornament. It twists open.” He moves his hands, one on top of the other, mimicking the motion of how it will open. “I wasn’t sure you noticed it or not, so I thought I should probably clue you in.”

  Following Tommy’s suggestion, I unscrew the top half of the sphere from the bottom, move the two halves apart, and reveal the small velvet box hidden inside. As if eager to help me, Ben lifts the lid on the box, then wastes no time sliding the princess cut diamond ring up my finger.

  Once he’s secured the ring where he wants it, he gives it a long kiss, then graces me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen across his lips.

  “She said yes,” he belts to the crowd.

  A chorus of cheers turns into an outdoor celebration with the carolers dancing and singing “Step into Christmas” by Elton John.

  How could I not say yes? I said a silent yes that warm spring day we spent together in the woods. The clearing covered with bent grass will forever be etched in my heart as the spot where Ben and I came together for the first time as more than mere friends. And although I shook my head and kept my yes to myself the first time Ben asked me to marry him, I’ve said a million yesses to him in each and every one of my dreams.

  Now my dreams have come true, right here under the mistletoe with Ben’s loving arms wrapped tightly around me, just as mine are around him.

  Looking up, I meet the gaze of the man who loves me more than anything. Without reserve, and since I’ve wanted to do this since the day he walked up to Mrs. Tinley’s noodle stand and reentered my life, I plant my lips on his and tell him just how much I love him.

  “I love you too, Addison,” Ben says between tapping kisses across my lips, just before the soft cries of a baby lift the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “Dylan,” we say in unison, as Ben’s eyes grow wide.

  “What kind of parents are we? We’ve already forgotten about our baby.” I wink, letting Ben know I’m not overly concerned about the baby. After all, the smartest lady in town—the one who I’m confident played a role in getting Ben and me back together—has her extra-careful watch over him.

  I can tell Ben’s not as relaxed as I am because he scoots me forward and helps me down the steps of the bandstand in a hurry. Back at the car, he tosses the paperwork in the front door like they’re batting practice balls and moves to open the back passenger door, setting his sight on Baby Peterson.

  With his tall form hunched over, Ben fiddles with our son and says a few words in his daddy voice that, for the time being, calms Dylan Bentley Peterson down. I smile, my body warming simply from watching as Ben attends to Dylan’s needs. He’s already calling him “DP,” which in baseball also stands for double play.

  Baseball fact number two: a double play is also known as a pitcher’s best friend.

  “Okay, little man, let’s get Mommy buckled in. Then we’ll show you the house that’s now officially our home.” Ben sets his sight on me, completely removing his gaze from Dylan. “At least I think the smile I saw on Mommy’s face means she’s cool with owning a house.”

  I nod with a grin, take Ben’s hand, and marvel at how much I love him. As quickly as she can, Mrs. Tinley moves to her spot in the front seat while Ben helps me ease into the back seat. After a chaste kiss, we’re off and heading home. I couldn’t be happier. With the two newest residents of Willow Run at my side, no two days will ever be the same again.

  From the Author

  I hope you enjoyed Curveball Baby. If so, please leave a review. Word-of-mouth recommendations and reader reviews help books succeed. We can’t do it without you. THANK YOU!

  J.M. Maurer

  Please visit my website to sign up for my newsletter, learn about my books, contact me via email, and connect via social media.

  www.jmmaurer.com

  Acknowledgments

  All my love to my husband, Jim, whose constant support and encouragement has helped me become the writer I am today. To my son who I enjoyed watching play the game of baseball all those years, and to Susan R. Hughes, Rochelle Weber, Liza O’Connor, Tammy Fletcher, and Lisa Gratz, I send an endless supply of love and gratitude to you. You all rock!

  Also By J.M. Maurer

  Contemporary Romance

  The Emerging From Darkness Trilogy (18+)

  Sexual Content, Strong Language, Often Humorous

  Seeking Love

  Seeking Redemption

  Seeking Hope

  New Adult Romance

  The Willow Run Series

  Curveball Baby

  Standalone, Sports, Holiday, Sweet Romance

  Most of Addison’s days start the same. She walks to work, brushes off the townsfolks’ disapproval, and fixes any-and-all local catastrophes. But there’s not a single resident in Willow Run who doesn’t know that’s all about to change.

  For MLB pitching phenom Ben Peterson, returning to Willow Run is like stepping into another world. Back in town, he’s poised to do more than merely get his head on straight. For the last six months, his thoughts have been centered around one thing—the beautiful small-town girl who taught him there's more to life than hurling a baseball.

  As Right As Rain

  Standalone, New Adult, Workplace, Contemporary Romance

  After a rough go at love—and finally landing her first job at a television station that’s barely functioning—meteorologist Makayla Reading is determined to make her mark on the world. With no time for a man in her life, a don’t-fall-for-the-cameraman rule should be easy to follow. But sparks fly when she meets the handsome and charming Eli Barringer.

  Add in a crabby boss who makes her life miserable, and a true friend is exactly what she needs. As her relationship with Eli moves beyond friendship, Makayla realizes she must not only give in to her heart but also let him in on a secret she’s been keeping, a decision she knows is…As Right As Rain.

  Coming January 2018

  What’s Next?

  Look for more stories to come from Willow Run. Want to know what happens with Ben’s best friend Eli? Pick up your copy of AS RIGHT AS RAIN.

  Or read the sneak peek below.

  AS RIGHT
AS RAIN

  Chapter One

  Five minutes? How am I supposed to get ready in five minutes?

  I’m a newbie. Albeit one who knows her stuff. But an assignment outside my office isn’t supposed to be happening just yet. Heck, the ink on my contract probably hasn’t even dried. Though on a positive note, at least the phone call I just picked up isn’t my mom. If it were, I’d be sighing through another round of her incessant “momineering.”

  “Listen,” my boss’s baritone voice blares through the speaker in my ear, and I know he’s not screaming at me because he thinks my thoughts are scattered elsewhere.

  But they are. I can’t help it. I’ve finally landed my first job. It’s not the most optimal of situations, but one that’ll do for now. As it is, I’m determined; poised to reach my goals—two of which are making a name for myself and then quickly moving on.

  Squeezing the phone in my hand, I sit up in my swivel chair and lean toward my desk. As has been the case for the last five hours, my sight is homed in on my four screens in much the same way the Hubble telescope worked before repairs corrected its subpar level of performance. Since I’m trying to make do with an antiquated software system that desperately needs to be brought into the current century, I can’t turn the swirl of angry snow-laden clouds covering all of Cleveland into a graphic that’s anything remotely as cool as I’d like to be. Sadly, my one-dimensional presentations will never, in an entertaining and informative way, look very presentable, much less capture anyone’s interest on any given day.