Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  When her mother came by, they talked about Drew. When she went to the support groups, they talked about Drew. Her every thought was mostly about Drew and some about Ben.

  But now that she’d tasted the attention of another adult—one who actually cared how she felt or what she wanted, rather than his own agenda, the quiet of the night engulfed her and she sank into a deep pit.

  Jamie pulled the blanket over her face, inhaling the faint scent of musk left behind by Ryan. She’d done the right thing in asking him to leave. She had to learn to stand on her own and take care of her sons herself. She couldn’t slough the responsibilities onto him, no matter how willing he’d seemed to be.

  She needed to get out more. Find a job. Maybe go back to school. Anything to fill up her days and her nights. She had to exhaust herself completely, numb her emotions so she’d never feel pain. She had to protect her boys.

  Both boys mourned, each in their own way. Ben moped around and made self-deprecating comments about how he wasn’t good enough for Ryan to like, while Drew adamantly insisted Ryan liked him and would be back with the puppy.

  Drew wouldn’t go to bed, because he didn’t want to miss Ryan, and Ben went to bed early because he had nothing to stay up for.

  Getting Drew to go to sleep had been a marathon, as he kept waking up and going to the door, saying he heard Ryan and the puppy. Even now, she wasn’t sure if Drew was asleep, but she told him a lie, that Ryan wouldn’t come if he stayed up—the same lie she told the boys about Santa Claus not coming down the chimney unless they went to sleep.

  Jamie hugged the pillow Ryan had slept on and rubbed her face with it. This entire situation was unfair. How could she not fall in love with a superstar like Ryan Hudson? How could she not fall for a man who not only wasn’t repelled by her autistic son, but was drawn to him and wanted to help him? How could she not appreciate how he’d taken Ben under his wing and made him popular at school? How could she not fantasize about them being a family? Maybe even having a baby together? Of holidays and birthday parties, Little League and fishing trips? Of walks in the park and dancing in the moonlight, and making love in the sweetness just before dawn?

  How could she not want more?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “I heard you’ve gone back to the ballpark,” Ryan’s mother sat across the table from him at the country club and mixed the salad dressing into her shrimp Caesar salad. “And you got a dog.”

  Ryan wondered who his mother had been talking to. Ever since she’d berated him for moving in with Jamie, he hadn’t called her. Of course, he couldn’t stand her up on their weekly lunch.

  “Yep.” He sprinkled salt and pepper on his flatiron steak.

  “You moved out.” His mother picked up her phone and shook it, waking it. “Or at least you left your cell phone at home all night trying to put me off.”

  “I’m going to remove you from the tracking app.” Ryan cut into the tender steak.

  “I’m your only family,” Mother said. “We need to look after one another.”

  Ryan didn’t reply. He chewed his food and concentrated on cutting his steak. He loved his mother and she was the most important person in the world to him. But at the same time, he wanted Jamie to be the center of his life. He never thought he would find someone who’d click with him as well as she did, and the boys were a bonus. He loved those little guys.

  “Assuming you did move out, was it your choice or hers?”

  “When I was little, why did Dad move out?” Ryan set his fork and knife down and forced himself to stare into his mother’s eyes. “I want the truth.”

  “It wasn’t because of you.” His mother’s face sagged, looking tired. “We went through a difficult period in our marriage.”

  “Because I made life hard for everyone. I feel bad about dragging you down with my special needs.” This awareness came with learning about the world around him. If he had stayed in his bubble, he wouldn’t have known how he affected the people around him.

  “There’s nothing to feel bad about. Both of us adored you. Your father taught you how to pitch. You were different from other kids, but you weren’t the cause of our problems.” His mother reached out and touched his arm. “We married too young and grew apart. He was always a quiet man, and he’d rather be out in the fields or in the barn with the animals. But he was proud of you. Real proud of you, and he loved you deeply. He didn’t show it with words.”

  “I know that, Mom, but I wished you two had loved each other more, and I can’t help but feel that I made your lives miserable.”

  “You must never feel that way. Never.” His mother squeezed his hand.

  “But, wouldn’t you have been happier if I didn’t cause all those problems? Maybe you and Dad would have had more time together. Because of me, you were always busy with my special stuff and dealing with me when I screwed up.”

  His mother’s eyes swam with tears and she sniffed. “I have a confession to make.”

  Ryan licked his dry lips and felt the flutter of anxiety wiggle in his belly. He’d known all along what havoc he’d wreaked on his parents’ lives. Back in their small town, everyone gossiped about them, and every time he did something weird or had a meltdown, the entire town talked, and more often than not, they sympathized with his parents. Neighbors would come for a visit and comfort his parents, asking if there was anything they could do for them, treating them as if they were the victims—and yes, they had been victims of a small boy who couldn’t speak properly, who threw fits whenever he couldn’t understand, who ran from company and hid under the porch where he’d heard all their comments.

  “You must be a saint. I could never deal with what you’re going through.”

  “I’ll pray for you. It must not be easy when he can’t communicate.”

  “The boy needs a good whipping. I’m sorry to say that, but there’s no such thing as this autism baloney that a good old-fashioned whipping won’t cure.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything at all I can do. Anything to help. Any relief we can give you.”

  “Minding him is really hard work, and you need a break.”

  “Ryan, are you listening to me?” His mother’s soft words brought his attention back to her.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear how hard it had been for her, how many years he’d taken from her life, how much of a burden he’d been, and even what a heroine she was—a superwoman who he was eternally grateful to.

  If it hadn’t been for her, he might have been thrown into an institution after his autism diagnosis.

  If it hadn’t been for him, her marriage might have been a bed of roses.

  “I can see you didn’t hear what I said. You’ve gone into your own world again.” His mother’s voice nagged and rubbed his raw wounds with salt.

  “I’m sorry.” It was about the only thing he knew how to say. He was sorry. Eternally sorry. Sorry he’d existed. Sorry he’d ever been born. Sorry he sucked the joy from people’s lives, especially the very ones he cared about.

  “Don’t be sorry for giving me the happiness of being your mother.” His mother grasped his hands and stared straight into his eyes. “I look at you and I want to cry and thank God for you, because you gave me the reason for my life. Before I had you, all I cared about was conforming to the life around me—being like all the other women in town, joining their committees, gossiping and wearing pretty clothes. I was spoiled by my parents and never taught how to be a good farmer’s wife. Never done a lick of work growing up, and I couldn’t help your dad worth beans. But after you were born, I refocused everything onto you and him, and I was up cooking breakfast well before dawn. I made myself useful, because I had a little farm boy to raise. I took you by the hand and showed you how to gather eggs, how to muck stalls, how to fill the feeders. You remember all those chores we did together?”

  “You had to work harder than other mothers, because I was different. I didn’t talk, and I was a brat.” Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat.


  “You weren’t a brat, and spending time with you with those word cards and drawing pictures for you to follow was restful. Certainly easier than mucking the stables.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Some of my best memories are sitting in the kitchen with you, showing you the little things of life: how to tie your shoes, how to scrub a cast iron pot with salt, how to roll out pastry dough. Because you didn’t talk, I got to stay closer to you than other mothers who spent their time shuttling the kids around to their activities.”

  “In other words, I was tied to your apron strings.” Ryan mustered up a chuckle to lighten the mood. “A real sissy.”

  “Not when you started throwing baseballs against the barn. Then everyone in the entire county paid attention to you, and boy did you make your daddy proud. Made me proud, too.” His mother’s face beamed as she pointed a finger at him. “And the secret? No other boy could do what you did. And it was all because you were different—are different, that you can drill that perfect pitch on the bottom of the ninth with runners on base and get that last crucial out.”

  When his mother put it that way, Ryan could see a glimmer of how it could have worked in a roundabout way.

  “All those meltdowns and not talking and being weird paid off?”

  “Exactly. You think anyone can do what you do? It’s not a matter of paying off, it’s a matter of overcoming all the things that were difficult for you and being stronger because of them.” Mother tilted her head proudly. “Being your mother was the biggest adventure a small town girl like me could have ever wished for. Watching you win the World Series—that’s a dream I’m still waiting for, because I know only you can do it.”

  “I wish Dad could have seen me play big league,” Ryan conceded.

  His mother’s eyes glanced upward. “Oh, he sees every game, and he’s your biggest fan. He might not have said much, but he loved you more than he loved his farm—and that’s saying a lot. As for our relationship, it was my fault for being an ‘expert’ about you. I lorded it over him about how I did more for you than he, and that was my biggest failing. Biggest failing for our marriage and my confession. I screwed up my marriage, but it wasn’t because of you. I should have trusted him more and let him have more time with you.”

  “But you did, Mom. You did, when Dad took me fishing or to baseball games. You did let him have me,” Ryan said. “And Dad always thought about you and said how he wished you could come with us, but that you weren’t interested in fishing or baseball. I think you two didn’t communicate, because you wanted me to be alone with him, and he thought you didn’t want to be with him.”

  “He wanted me there?”

  “Yes, and he always thought about you. He’d see flowers and wonder if you’d like them, then talk himself out of it. He’d browse jewelry stores looking for a Christmas gift for you, and then decide you wouldn’t like what he picked because he wasn’t good at those types of things. He always said you needed time for yourself because you were so busy with me, so he took me places and you got to go out with your women friends and do women things. And if he slept in the barn, it was so you could get your beauty rest, after staying up with me whenever I threw a fit.”

  Tears dampened the wrinkles around Mother’s eyes. “I miss your dad. I hope he knows now how I miss him.”

  “He knows. Just like he’ll know if I win a World Series before I throw the first pitch.” Ryan rubbed his mother’s hands.

  “So, what are you going to do about Jamie?” Mother’s voice was choked with emotion. “Are you going to let her push you away because she’s an expert with her son?”

  “I thought that’s why you told me to beware the last time we talked. You said she’d end up hurting me because of her kids.”

  “Only if you’re competing with them, which I don’t believe you are.”

  “No, Mom, I’m not competing with them. I have a bond with them, especially Drew, but also Ben, because he’s left out. Every time Drew does something, all the attention goes to him. No one notices Ben standing around and how scared he is. The other morning, I took Ben to school because Drew stayed up all night banging his head against the wall and Jamie had to deal with him.”

  “Oh, my. What happened? Did something set him off?” Two spots of pink rose on his mother’s face. She actually looked pained to hear about the little boy hurting himself.

  “Jamie thinks it’s me.” Ryan stared at his cooling steak and wanted to sink into a hole. “That I changed his routine too much with all the baseball playing and the fishing. He almost drowned when he fell in the canal, and then it was too much.”

  “He almost drowned? How?”

  He told his mother about the impromptu fishing trip and how excited the boys had been when Ben caught a big bass. How Drew claimed he’d chased the fish from the water, and how they’d played video games all evening before going to bed.

  “So, if he was playing and interacting after almost drowning, then it seemed like that didn’t bother him,” Mother said, dabbing her tears. “He’s probably fearless when it comes to water. Some kids are bothered by water, but from what you tell me, he likes water. You were that way, too. You loved water, even after you fell in thin ice, you claimed you liked the way it made you numb. Something else must have scared him.”

  “Ben says the last time he had a night terror, his father had swung a baseball bat at him. He didn’t hit him, but was only threatening.”

  “Only threatening.” Mother’s bark caused other patrons of the restaurant to glance over at them. “That’s child abuse. Has this been reported?”

  Ryan shook his head, shushing his mother, who seemed to recover when she noticed heads turning.

  “Jamie’s afraid to rock the boat, because her ex pays alimony, child support, and all the expenses for Drew’s special treatments. Besides, he didn’t hit him for real. He was only pretending.”

  “He scared the little boy half to death. Does he do that to Jamie too? Scare her?” Now his mother was getting agitated. “Did he threaten her? What if he finds out you’ve been living there?”

  “I moved out so he wouldn’t find out. He’s due back this weekend, and Jamie’s afraid he’ll take the money away—maybe even the kids.”

  “Take the kids? On what grounds?”

  “That I’m dangerous. That Drew almost drowned, and I made him have a meltdown.”

  “No. No. No.” His mother slapped the table, causing the other diners to turn their way again. “He’s abusive to Jamie and to the boys. He’s supposed to pay alimony and child support because they’re his kids. He probably has a court order to pay for Drew’s therapies. And just because he pays doesn’t mean he gets to dictate who they see and who they don’t see.”

  Ryan shrugged helplessly. “Jamie told me to leave. I have to respect that.”

  “You do, but I’m worried about her and the boys. Their father is isolating them because he wants to have control over them. What’s hard on Jamie is not only dealing with Drew, but the pressure of having to live under her ex-husband’s thumb even when they’re divorced. I bet he’s gallivanting along having affairs of his own. But no, as soon as someone expresses interest in Jamie and the boys, he has to put an end to it.” Mother folded her napkin and set it on the table. “I don’t like it one bit, and I’m going to go have a chat with her.”

  “No, you can’t! She’ll think I still need you to speak for me.” Mortification descended over Ryan.

  “I’m not going to talk about you. I want to find out how she’s doing, as a concerned friend.” Mother pushed back from her chair. “Now, be a darling and pay the bill.”

  “Don’t tell her I’m an autism suspect,” Ryan said, watching with panic as his mother swept out of her seat.

  She sailed off without answering him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Jamie propped the recipe book in a plastic holder and chopped onions, garlic, and shallots. She had a few hours on her own because Drew had gone back to school, eager to talk about his puppy.<
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  Her phone beckoned on the counter, but she refused to text Ryan and ask him to bring the dog back. There were plenty of puppies needing to be rescued, and she could simply find another one. It wasn’t as if she depended on Ryan to do everything for her!

  Chop. Chop. Chop.

  Her eyes teared from the onion fumes, but she wasn’t going to throw her own pity party. She was a strong woman, and she’d handled things just fine before the boys won a day at the ballpark with Ryan Hudson.

  She could do it again. She’d call the rescue shelter and find another chocolate Labrador puppy and name it Hershey, and she’d make sure Ben and Drew took responsibility for walking and feeding him.

  The doorbell rang. Jamie glanced at her phone, but no one had texted to say they were coming. Andrew was still in California on business and not due back.

  She didn’t expect anyone, so she ignored it.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Whoever was there was persistent. A wild hope leapt into Jamie’s chest. What if Ryan had forgotten something, like maybe his cell phone? That could explain why he hadn’t texted or called her.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, she rushed to the door and opened it.

  A well-dressed silver-haired woman stood on the welcome mat. She looked familiar, but Jamie couldn’t place her. She was color-coordinated and wore a taupe-colored suit skirt, a silky textured blouse and a string of pearls around her neck. A wide-brimmed hat, like the kind women wore to the Kentucky Derby, angled over her head.

  “Oh, you must have the wrong house,” Jamie said, wondering if the country club set held a bridge party in her neighborhood.

  “Jamie, I think we’ve met before,” the older woman said, her eyes pinpointing her in a scrutinizing way. “I’m Mrs. Frances Hudson, Ryan’s mother.”

  “Oh, Ryan’s mother,” Jamie repeated. Now she recalled meeting her at the hospital when Ryan had gotten hurt. She hadn’t been wearing color-coordinated clothes then, and the hat she wore now hid her features. Jamie stepped back, remembering her manners. “Would you please come in?”