PRAISE FOR
THE Matchup
“Laura Walker’s The Matchup takes the dysfunction in all of us and hits it against the proverbial fan. Pride, faith, and perseverance determine whether two wounded hearts can ever love again.”
— JAN M. MARTIN, author of Heir of Deceit and Impressions of Innocence
“A hero who has lost his way and a heroine who is struggling to stay on the right path are thrown together by an unexpected twist. Laura Walker delivers a heartfelt LDS romance, while introducing the reader to the challenges and blessings of raising an autistic child. The Matchup will open both the eyes and hearts of its readers.”
— JOYCE DIPASTENA, author of The Lady and the Minstrel
“The Matchup is an intense story of overcoming personal demons and finding not only personal peace, but also love and happiness with the right person. I fell in love with the main characters from the beginning, and it tore my heart up as their pasts were spelled out for me. I laughed and cried right along with them as their hearts and souls were healed. A fantastic read for anyone struggling to find or hold on to their testimony.”
— SARAH DALEY, author of Drowning Sandy
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To my sisters, Alana and Vonda,
whose courage in the face of adversity
has been a source of inspiration to me.
I miss you every day, Vonda!
Also to my beautiful Kayla,
whose light and wonder have helped me to see
beyond the rain.
And to the real Chad and Joy
who made a child’s first time at the ballpark
a very special memory.
If I never have the opportunity to thank you in person,
know that in the next life, I will.
ALSO BY LAURA L. WALKER
Pierced by Love
This was the third time she’d called today. Gage Logan avoided verbal communication with his ex-wife whenever possible, but he knew he couldn’t dodge her any longer. Impatiently, he answered his phone and barked, “Yeah, April?”
“Gage.” April’s voice came through sounding thin and reedy. “I need you to take Zachary this weekend.”
Gage closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He had to work this weekend. She knew that. “Why?”
The question hung in the air for a charged moment. Gage tugged at his tie and kept typing on his laptop while he waited for April’s response. Her first two calls had come when he was meeting with potential clients. He really wasn’t in the mood for this.
When would April get it through her head that he was no longer the naïve kid she’d married? For the thousandth time, Gage regretted ever having met April Westbrook. But then he wouldn’t have his son, Zach. Still, even though he loved the little guy, Gage hated having to deal with his ex-wife. Gage had been mesmerized by her porcelain-like face and smooth-as-honey voice. Only now, it was cold and shrill.
“My friend and I are going to Las Vegas.”
Vegas. After everything that had happened between them, she was throwing that in his face? It stood to reason they’d be gambling on more than just the machines. At the very least, they were planning on getting smashed. She probably wasn’t sober even now. His voice turned to ice. “This ‘friend’ doesn’t happen to be your latest fling, does it? Ryker Payne, I believe?”
“Zachary told you about him?”
“Yeah,” he said, scorn lacing his voice. “Hmm. April Payne. The name fits you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” April sniffed. “We’re not going there to elope. I never want to try that again.”
“No kidding.”
“I didn’t call you to rehash everything, Gage.” Everything, meaning their brief and painful marriage. “I need a babysitter for Zachary. I know last weekend was your turn with him, but could you take him again this weekend, pleeeze?”
Gage sighed, recalling with a pang the trip he’d made last weekend from Mesa, Arizona, to Tucson to visit Zach. The little guy hadn’t been his normally exuberant self. The sadness in Zach’s eyes prompted Gage to ask him what was wrong. Zach had cried, “Mommy’s boyfriend doesn’t like me.”
Perplexed at how a kid who’d just turned four could sense something like that, Gage had asked, “Ian doesn’t like you?”
But Zach had shaken his head. “Ian doesn’t come anymore. Ryker does.” Further inquiry on Gage’s part had revealed that the slimeball was calling Zach a brat and telling April that she would need to choose between him and Zach soon. A feeling of unease had been gnawing at him ever since.
Gage groaned. As much as he worried over Zach, he really didn’t need any more complications in his life at this point. “Have your parents watch him,” he said shortly.
“They won’t!” she yelled back. “They gave me an ultimatum. Either I clean up my life or they’ll file for grandparents’ custody of Zachary.” Her voice broke on the last syllable.
Gage hardened his heart against the onslaught. April’s emotional breakdown seemed convincing, but he knew it was only a dramatic act. “They should. We both know that neither of us are in a position to take care of him.”
Gage worked for the Arizona Diamondbacks organization as an account executive for premium sales, which meant that he was in charge of suite rentals, including the organization’s swimming pool, the first of its kind at a professional ballpark. Gage loved working with a great team and meeting so many interesting clients on a daily basis. But his job, while lucrative, didn’t leave much room for a personal life.
In truth, though, Gage knew that was only part of the problem. The thought of becoming a full-time father made him break out in a cold sweat.
“Please, Gage. I don’t want my parents to take him. I’m tired of dealing with them. All they do is lecture me. I’m a complete failure to them.”
Did April realize how pathetic she sounded? She’d never learned to take responsibility for herself. How had his life become such a mess?
His mind went back to that day three and a half years earlier when April had told Gage about their six-month-old son. Zach had been a honeymoon baby. Gage and April had divorced six months before he was born. Gage had been shocked, of course. He’d even taken a paternity test since April couldn’t seem to stay with one guy for very long. The test had confirmed that Zach was indeed his child. Gage had felt completely out of his element, so when April declared that all she wanted was Gage’s money, he’d gladly settled out of court, making arrangements for child support payments and monthly visitations. Then, three months ago, his guilty conscience—and a fair amount of manipulation on April’s part—had finally convinced Gage to visit Zach every other week.
He hadn’t been able to bring himself to involve his parents in his predicament, however. While they’d worried over his marriage to April and the fact that he continued to shun the Church, Gage had never told them about his son, partly because he couldn’t handle his mother’s censure and partly because everyone else’s lives were neatly falling into place while his was falling apart. Shame became the driving force behind his withdrawal from his family members.
Gage softened his voice. “Your parents will come around. They always do.”
It was true. April’s parents always gave in to her, either by paying her bills or being Zach’s surrogate parents, all in the name of love. They had doted on April throughout her entire life, aiding her in the divorce that
had saved Gage’s sanity but cost him his self-respect.
Or what little he’d had left of it.
“This time they’re threatening to take everything away. My car, my rent money. I’ll be forced to live with them again and look for a new job. Or worse. Go back to school.”
Gage couldn’t stifle a sardonic laugh at that. As far as he was concerned, April was a brat. Maybe April needed some time away—not just a weekend—from Zach to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.
Could I do it? Gage wondered, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking. Could he really become more than a weekend parent? When Gage had looked in the mirror this morning, he’d noticed that he was starting to look more like his own father now. Though he had Jared Logan’s nose, he’d always favored his mother. But his face had filled out and his jawline and cheekbones were less prominent. When once he’d had long black hair, now the shorter strands made these changes stand out even more.
Looking like his dad wasn’t something to be proud of. Jared Logan had been a successful businessman almost from the time Gage had been born. But he’d neglected his family and created emotional wounds that were still hard for Gage to talk about to this day.
Knowing that he was not only starting to look more like his father but he had, quite literally, become his father left a sour taste in Gage’s mouth. It was hard to break the cycle.
But his little boy needed a more stable life than what his ex-wife was giving him.
“I’ll take him,” Gage found himself saying, surprised by the feeling of rightness that settled over him. “And, April, just so you know, I agree with your parents. You need to get your life together. I’m going to file for custody of Zach. I think I stand a good chance at winning.”
Her quick intake of breath followed by an expletive let him know he’d infuriated her. “You wouldn’t!” she hissed.
“Watch me!”
“Fine!” she snapped. “You know what? Never mind about this weekend! I’ll grovel back to my parents before I hand my son over to you.”
Something in his gut told Gage not to back down. But he needed to calm her down so she would be reasonable. Working to keep his voice even, he said, “Look, April. Go to Vegas with Ryker. Zach can hang out here. He’ll be fine.”
Funny how her voice became sweet as honey in the blink of an eye. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll meet you at noon tomorrow. Have him ready to go. We can talk about the other stuff later.”
“I will. Thanks, Gage. See you then.”
“Yeah. See you.”
He brought up his brother’s number on his phone. It was time. Time to end this charade and face whatever consequences his stupid choices had landed him in. He needed to tell his family the truth.
Pierce’s deep voice came through the connection sounding cool and confident. Gage envied that. “Hey, bro. What’s up?”
“Pierce, I need to ask you a favor . . .”
Valerie Levington Hall kicked the door of the dryer closed in frustration. When would she learn to check pockets for crayons before starting a load of laundry? Now Whitney’s shorts and shirts and even a dress that she liked to wear to church had purple and green streaks all over them.
Yanking the door open once again, she pulled out the marked clothing to assess the damage. Some of the articles were turned inside out, affording Valerie the first glimmer of hope since realizing her mistake. Yes, they were salvageable. Others would need to be thrown away. Hot tears formed on her eyelids. This was just a minor setback. Keep telling yourself that.
“Whitney!” she called. “Come here, please.”
Rapid footsteps sounded in the distance before her six-year-old daughter appeared. “Yes, Mom?”
Valerie held the evidence up. “How many times have I told you not to leave crayons in your pockets?”
“I didn’t!” A look of panic came over Whitney’s features. “Justin did.”
Cocking her brow, Valerie eyed her daughter skeptically. The evidence clearly pointed to Whitney, considering that all of the clothing in this load of laundry belonged to her. However, Valerie couldn’t discount her daughter’s claim on the active five-year-old.
“Are you telling the truth?” She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but Whitney had been telling white lies lately. And since it was easy to blame Justin for everything because most of the time he really was the one responsible for the mess, Valerie was doing her best to teach her daughter accountability. Throwing ruined clothing away really hurt Valerie’s budget when she could barely afford to feed and clothe her two children as it was.
Whitney’s face scrunched up before her gaze turned downward. “Well . . . I think that maybe I forgot to take them out of my pocket. I’m sorry, Mommy.” Whitney looked like she was about to cry. “I’ll remember next time.”
Valerie hugged her daughter, knowing that it hadn’t been easy for her to come clean. “Did you find the invitation to Abrielle’s party?”
“No, not yet.” Whitney had been invited to a friend’s birthday party, which was a big deal because Whitney was rarely invited to spend time with her friends outside of school and church. Valerie always appreciated others’ consideration for her children, especially since she was so used to being misunderstood with Justin’s learning disorder. He’d been diagnosed with a mild form of autism. High-functioning, but autism nonetheless.
“Go look in your room.” Whitney scampered off at Valerie’s request.
It had been a trying day. She’d arrived late to work this morning due to the tantrum that Justin had thrown when she dropped him off at school. Yesterday’s tantrum had been over the milk spilling from his bowl of cereal onto his shoes. Today’s had been about not finding his favorite toy car to put into his backpack. Trying to adhere to the school’s policy that no toys be brought from home, Valerie had hidden it. Thankfully, his classroom aide, Miss Jamie, had stood at the doorstep to greet him and take him for a short walk to help him calm down.
Of course, Justin had a difficult time following rules and helping others. He didn’t understand the need to clean messes after he’d made them, although Valerie was working with him on that. He didn’t understand about not having his favorite shirt available to wear when it was in the laundry hamper. Justin was smart—he knew his alphabet and numbers and could spell his own name—but he couldn’t write it. His motor skills, both gross and fine, were something he and his occupational therapist worked on extensively at school.
With a pang, Valerie recalled sitting numbly in the developmental pediatrician’s office after receiving the news of his diagnosis. While it explained why he’d been a colicky baby and such a handful as a toddler—he had not spoken a word until three and a half years of age and was potty-trained just six months ago—it explained nothing at all.
What was autism? Valerie had known nothing about it. She didn’t know anyone personally with this diagnosis.
She sure knew enough about it now. More than she wanted to.
Autistic behaviors ranged on a broad spectrum from children who didn’t speak at all to children who were developmentally delayed, socially challenged, or required special devices to help them cope with their environment. Earphones for the loud noises they heard, weighted jackets to help calm their nerves when they became too agitated, and music or other soothing noises to help them block outside interferences were just a few of the methods of calming these children. Valerie had learned about them as a classroom observer at the preschool Justin attended, which was designed specifically for children with special needs.
Because Justin rated in the high-functioning range, Valerie was leaning toward the idea of placing him into a regular kindergarten classroom in the next school year where he would benefit from interacting with all kinds of children. Another advantage of this choice would be that Justin would attend the same school as Whitney, who was going into second grade, therefore eliminating the need to drive from one end of Mesa to the other each morning.
However, J
ustin’s preschool teacher, along with the school psychologist, were advising Valerie that a better option might be to wait and give Justin the extra time he needed to mature.
Valerie was brought out of her reverie as Whitney’s voice carried down the hall. “Mom, I looked everywhere for the invitation. It’s not in my room.”
“Go look in Justin’s room. He may have gotten a hold of it.” Come to think of it, Justin had been quiet for a long time. That was never a good thing.
At times like these, she lamented the fact that her marriage had come to an unhappy end, that it had never been what she’d envisioned it would be. She’d married Nick Hall in the temple, naively believing in happily-ever-afters. Since that day, however, Valerie had experienced more heartache and discord than she cared to remember. So often, she’d read about God’s justice and mercy in the scriptures. But she had yet to figure out why her reward for doing the right things—getting married in the temple, honoring the priesthood holder in her home, and bearing his children—included divorce and subsequent single parenthood. Where was God’s mercy in that?
Turning away from the laundry room, she walked down the hall toward Justin’s room. She hated the fact that she’d become so jaded.
As an idealistic freshman in college, how was she supposed to know that Nick Hall wasn’t the well-brought-up man he seemed to be? It wasn’t until after they were married that his dictatorial side came to light. “Honey, that dress is too old-fashioned. Why don’t you buy yourself something new?” The first time Nick had thrown her that line, along with his credit card, Valerie could hardly believe her good fortune. As a middle child growing up in a large family, she was used to wearing hand-me-downs. But Nick provided well for her as a manager at his father’s golf resort. She’d felt beautiful and special in the new dress Nick had helped her pick out.
But when Valerie came home with a pair of jeans from her favorite department store, Nick insisted she take them back. “What’s wrong with them?” Valerie had asked in confusion.
The Matchup Page 1