“Mommy! Let’s go.” Ben said. “I want to get there early so I can buy an Icee for Bianca. She’s my Valentine.”
Jamie raised her eyebrows and blinked at her older son. “How did that happen? Did the school assign you Valentines?”
“Silly Mommy,” Ben said, giggling and bouncing on his toes. “I asked her to be my Valentine and she said yes. She even let me kiss her.”
“Kiss her?” Jamie gawked at her mother who suppressed a chuckle.
“Well, duh!” Ben rolled his eyes. “It’s what Valentines do, and what you and Ryan want to do.”
“Me and Ryan?” Jamie sputtered. “We want to do no such thing.”
“Yes, you do,” Ben said. “That’s why everyone’s trying to set you up. Bianca said her dad called Ryan to let him know where we’re meeting, and her mother thinks he likes you, but he’s afraid of us.”
“What’s there to be afraid of us for?” Jamie avoided her mother’s inquisitive gaze, even though her heart sank, knowing exactly why Ryan would avoid her little family.
“Now, you two jabbermouths run along,” Jamie’s mother said, picking up Ben’s backpack. “You have money to treat your Valentine?”
“Yep, I took it from my crayon bank.” Ben hefted the backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Mom. If we get there early, Bianca might give me another kiss.”
Ugh. Her older son was growing like a weed.
“Seven is a little too young to be kissing.” Jamie resorted to being a mommy spoil sport.
“It’s only on the cheek,” Ben said. “Not like you and Ryan. If you kiss, it’s going to be icky because of all that spit.”
Jamie put her hands up. “No talk about kissing. Please.”
She ran to the dryer and unloaded it. “Mom, don’t fold any of the clothes, okay? Drew likes to play with them.”
“I’ve got it covered,” her mother assured. “Now go, go, and don’t call and check on us. Really!”
Jamie gave her mother a hug, grabbed her keys and purse, and hustled out the door after Ben.
As soon as she backed the car out of the driveway and saw that the garage door was closed, she let out a deep breath. A weight lifted from her chest as she left the chaos behind, if only for a few hours. Except she should feel guilty for her relief. What was wrong with her? She should be strong enough to shoulder the complete load, and yet she needed to give Ben a normal life, and she was failing there, too.
“We should do this more often.” She looked back in the rearview mirror at Ben, who was growing up way too fast. “So, tell me about school. What’s your teacher like?”
“We had practice for open house and I visited all my old teachers. Remember Miss Fierro in kindergarten and Mrs. Bass for first grade?”
“That’s awfully nice of you to keep in touch with your old teachers,” Jamie said, hoping she hadn’t missed Open House. “When is Open House again?”
“Next Thursday. Are you going to visit my old teachers, too? Miss Fierro has a class lizard and I like to pet it. It’s a bearded dragon …”
Even though she enjoyed chatting with Ben about his classmates, teacher, and the games they played, a nagging guilt poked her like a burr in the seat of her pants as her thoughts returned to Drew. Had he even noticed that she and Ben had left? Or was he still fidgeting over the baseball game on TV? Will her mother be able to go through his bedtime routine without a meltdown?
Thirty minutes later, Jamie, Ben, Brock, Marcia, and Bianca were at the refreshment line of the Jumbo Cineplex. Marcia had left her fifteen-month-old with her father, and the five of them were looking forward to a movie, followed by video and arcade games at a pizza arcade.
A perfect kid night for parents with normally developing children. Jamie consciously shut off her obsession with Drew and her mother, but as soon as she did that, her thoughts turned to Ryan.
Why hadn’t he called to at least let her know he couldn’t come? How could he have dropped her flat when they had mutual friends?
If he was turned off by her autistic son, then good riddance. She didn’t need a guy who was intimidated by her love for her boy.
The worst day of her life wasn’t the day Drew’s diagnosis was confirmed. No, the worst day was when Andrew walked out, screaming he couldn’t take it anymore.
Better to scare Ryan away with a Drew meltdown than to let her heart bleed on the ground, trampled by the rush of another man to the exit.
Yet, her heart ached, and she felt tears welling in her eyes, as she swallowed the huge lump in her throat. What was wrong with her wanting some semblance of normality? Of the lost chance that Ryan could have been a man to fill that empty spot in her life? Of the flicker of hope she’d had while he’d hugged her with an embrace that hadn’t meant a thing to him, but had given her an entire universe of possibilities?
Even though she knew the chance was one in a million, she still grieved the loss of her unrealistic fantasy—one she’d unwisely allowed herself to indulge in after he’d flirted with her about the movie date and lunch. Why had he suggested it only to drop her flat? Wouldn’t it have been better if he hadn’t acted as if he’d wanted to see her again?
Jamie gave the ticket line one last scan in case Ryan was late, and then she deep-sixed her feelings and helped Ben fill the Icee cup he’d bought for Bianca. The two of them chattered like chipmunks, talking about baseball stats and which baseball cards they wanted to collect.
She watched as Ben proudly presented the Icee to Bianca. She was a spunky little girl, with double pigtails and a backwards baseball cap, who matched Ben in jabbering, both trying to get in as many words as possible.
She giggled and took a slurpy sip, then leaned over and kissed Ben on the cheek.
Too late, Jamie fumbled in her purse for her cell phone to take a picture, but she couldn’t find it. Panic seized her, and she flipped through her purse and pockets.
“Is everything all right?” Marcia asked, holding two cartons of buttered popcorn. “Did you lose something?”
“I must have left my cell phone at home. I can’t call my mom and check up on them.”
“You can use mine.” Marcia tilted her head to signal going into the theater. “Why don’t you call her and let her know to call me if she needs to reach you?”
Jamie nodded, but slapped her own head. “I’m so stupid. Why did I leave my phone? Now I won’t be able to enjoy the movie.”
“It’ll be okay,” Marcia said. “If it makes you feel better, you can hold onto my phone.”
“You must think I’m strange.” Jamie huffed, trying to catch her breath. “Do you think I’m the reason Ryan decided not to take Ben to the movies?”
“Oh, Jamie, we can’t always know what others are thinking, but you are definitely not the reason. Ryan is Ryan, and sometimes, he marches to his own beat.” Marcia exchanged a worried look with Brock.
Jamie’s heart squeezed in on itself. Whatever had happened, Marcia and Brock were in on it. Ryan had begged off and asked them to make it up to her.
“Let’s not worry about him.” Jamie flashed them a smile and put her arm around Ben. “After the movies, I’m treating you all to pizza and laser tag.”
“Yay!” Ben jumped up and down, his eyes sparkling with joy. “You’re the best mom ever.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ryan went over the script his mother gave him and picked up his phone. His heart was thudding faster than pitching the last out in a playoff game.
Calling a woman should be a piece of cake. After all, he’d had enough acting lessons to turn into a real player. No one he picked up at the sports bar had any idea that he’d been to acting school. He’d memorized lines and dialogue, mastered expressions, even played out scenes in his mind.
Spotting a willing woman was easy. They came to him, batted their eyelashes and flashed their assets. All he had to do was buy the drink, make some suggestive remarks, and then go outside for air, which would lead to kissing and touching, and inevitably, the suggestion of find
ing a more private place.
Afterwards, he’d thank them and tell them he had a game. There was no need for pretending it was something more. No need to make excuses. A momentary awkwardness and a “See you around,” and he was free to go through his nightly routine and hit the sack.
So, why was he unable to call Jamie?
Because she’s different, and you haven’t practiced this script, he heard his mother’s voice in his head. And then. There’s no time like the present to start practicing.
Ryan took a deep breath and selected Jamie’s contact. The phone call started to connect. He ran through his mind what he should say, but when the call went to voicemail, he sputtered, “Jamie, I had a good time with you and the boys. Let’s do it again.”
His heart hammering, he swiped to end the call, almost as if he were going to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He hadn’t anticipated voicemail.
What had that meant? Had she seen his name flash on the screen and then let it go to voicemail? Or had she been busy? Should he wait for her to call him back?
He stared at his mother’s writing on the napkin. She hadn’t said what he should do if his call went to voicemail.
After ten minutes, Ryan decided to go to step two. He called Jamie’s number and waited, this time expecting the voicemail. He waited for the greeting to finish, and then said, “Hey Jamie, I wonder if I can take Drew out to the bullpen and do some throwing with him.”
He hung up quickly before anyone caught him.
After another ten minutes, he went to the next item on the list, skipping mention of the movie, since she hadn’t asked him about it. He knew better than to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted. That had been another important lesson he’d learned.
When he was thirteen, he had a burning crush on his homeroom teacher, Miss Gillespie. She was fresh out of teaching school, and she blushed every time she got in front of the classroom. She had long, dark-brown hair and a heart-shaped face. Large eyes and a sweet little mouth. He would stare at her the entire period, and he’d remember everything she said to the class.
Every day, she’d invite students to meet her after school for extra help, and every day, he’d show up saying he was there to help her.
She’d smile and put him to work. He’d pin pictures on the bulletin boards, string banners across the top of her whiteboard, and take out the trash.
One day, he was helping her clean up after a birthday party when he spilled punch over her white blouse. He wanted to help her clean her blouse, so he grabbed a paper towel and dabbed it all over her chest. When that hadn’t worked, he unbuttoned her blouse to take it to the sink, and she screamed at him, slapping his hands.
He’d never forget those sharp piercing eyes as she told him he was no longer welcome to help her after school. Then she called his mother and the school principal, and he was transferred to another homeroom.
His parents told him he hadn’t picked up the signs that she didn’t want him to help her clean her blouse, and that as a boy who would become a man, he had to stay away from women who didn’t welcome him.
If they didn’t bat their eyelashes or lick their lips or shove their chest into his face, then it meant they didn’t want him to touch.
Jamie hadn’t exactly shoved her chest into his face or batted her eyelashes either. Ryan played the scene back in his mind. Drew had just recovered from a meltdown and Jamie was flustered from having to calm him down. She’d asked him to take Ben to the movies, and she most definitely had not licked her lips when she asked.
He checked the next item on the list, which was to ask Jamie to lunch and give her time to arrange babysitting.
He might as well get it over with and finish the list. Then if Jamie didn’t want him, she would simply not call him back.
He entered her contact and waited for the voicemail.
Instead, someone said, “Hello? This is Jamie’s phone.”
“Jamie’s phone?” He scratched his head. “I was looking for her voicemail.”
“Did you call earlier?” the female voice asked. It was a lower, scratchier one, not mellow and sweet like Jamie’s.
“Yes, I did. I wanted to ask Jamie to have lunch with me and to arrange time for babysitting.”
“Oh, well, that can be arranged,” the woman said. “I’m Jamie’s mother, Doreen. Who am I speaking to?”
“Ryan, Ryan Hudson. I’m a friend of Jamie, Drew, and Ben.”
“Ryan!” Doreen squealed. “I’m so glad you called. Jamie’s been waiting for you to call. Oh, my, they just left to go to the movies.”
“They did? All of them?” Ryan jolted from his seat. “I thought I still had time.”
“Apparently, they went for an earlier show … Could you wait a second?”
An unearthly shriek wailed through the phone, followed by banging sounds. A child’s screams rent the air, anguished and frustrated—Drew in the throes of a meltdown.
Ryan’s stomach churned in sympathy to how out of control Drew must be feeling. He could hear Doreen try to calm him down, but the screaming and banging got louder, followed by a deafening crash.
Beep, beep, beep. The call ended.
Doreen was probably using the phone to call Jamie, who would be at a movie where phones were silenced.
Ryan tapped his phone to Jamie’s entry form where she’d applied for the Day with a Ballplayer. Her address was listed within the city of Phoenix, not too far from Brock’s house.
He told his phone to navigate to her address, and he got into his car to go help Drew.
While driving, he replayed the conversation with Doreen. She’d indicated that Jamie was waiting for him to call her. Which meant she liked him, and maybe his attention wasn’t unwanted.
He drove as fast as he could without exceeding the speed limit, and soon, he pulled up to the stucco ranch-styled house sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Pounding on the door, he shouted. “It’s Ryan Hudson, ma’am, here to help with Drew.”
Every shrill scream drilled through Ryan’s heart, and sweat poured over his forehead. He knew exactly how Drew felt. Overwhelmed, engulfed in darkness, and devastated with unspeakable terror.
Ryan rang the bell and knocked on the door, not giving up. “Ma’am, I can help. I know about calming an autistic kid. Please let me in.”
The door opened, and Jamie’s mother dragged him in quickly, before shutting it behind him.
Ryan rushed toward the direction of the screams, while Doreen babbled, “He’s in the bathroom going potty. It’s a mess in there. He smeared himself and everything with his feces. Jamie left her phone and she gave me a friend’s number, but she’s not answering.”
“I’m not worried about the feces,” Ryan said. “The first thing to do is to keep him from hurting himself.”
The bathroom looked like a warzone. The mirror was cracked, soap dishes and lotion dispensers were shattered, and in the middle of it all, Drew was pounding his smeared and dirty hands over a chart on the wall filled with stars.
“Hey, buddy.” Ryan approached him calmly. “Looks like you’re not having a good time. Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Talking to him won’t work,” Doreen said. “I tried explaining why he’s not getting a star for smearing his feces all over the place.”
“Let’s not talk about the feces.” Ryan grabbed a towel and held it a few inches from Drew. “You ever play bug in the rug? It’s fun. I wrap you up and you’re the bug.”
“Ahhh. Ahhh. Ahhh.” Drew shrieked as he picked all of the gold stars off the chart.
Slowly, Ryan draped the towel over Drew’s excrement smeared body and wrapped it around him, trapping his arms and hands. “A real snug bug in a rug.”
He didn’t try to hug him or touch him, because it could be painful for some people to be touched during a meltdown. Instead, he pulled the towel to apply calming pressure, the way babies felt when being swaddled.
Drew whipped his head back and forth, trying to
throw himself on the ground, but Ryan held the towel firmly and tucked him in close to the wall on one side, and the door on his other side.
When he was young, he used to hide inside a clothes hamper until he got too big. Small spaces calmed him, and he hoped Drew would find relief from the overwhelming sensations that had pushed him over the edge.
He faced Drew away from him, so he wasn’t staring into his eyes and making him more uncomfortable, and he waited.
After a while, the screams and choked sounds lessened in frequency, and Drew’s struggles grew more intermittent.
“I’m still trying to call Jamie,” her mother said, holding a cell phone.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather you not disturb her,” Ryan said. “She needs this time with Ben. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Even the cleanup?” Doreen looked bewildered as her gaze scanned the disaster zone.
“I’ll clean it up. Give this guy a bath once he’s calmed down.”
“Why, you’re an angel.” Doreen patted his back. “Have you eaten? I can whip up something in the kitchen. What would you like?”
“Anything is good, ma’am.”
He didn’t used to be so easy to please when it came to food. He had been the pickiest of the picky club at school, but his parents gave him rewards for trying new things, and soon, he discovered he liked some of the new flavors.
Doreen retreated from the bathroom, seemingly relieved to get away from the stench. It took another half an hour before Drew’s shrieks subsided and he relaxed inside the wrapped towel.
“I’m going to get this place cleaned up,” Ryan said, adjusting the water temperature while filling the tub. “Put bubbles in the bathtub, and you can tell me what happened.”
Drew avoided his gaze and woodenly stood at the side of the tub while Ryan cleaned him as best as he could with toilet paper and wet wipes.
Once the water was filled halfway, Drew climbed in and sat very still, shuddering slightly. He was drained from his meltdown, but the release of tension and the warm bath water would calm him further, hopefully, helping him to get a good night’s sleep.
Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3) Page 6