Heartbreakers and Heroes

by Box Set

  “How can you still look at me like that?”

  What a stupid question. “Because I still love you,” he told her. “We need to make a plan—for you, for me…”

  “…and for Andie.”

  His daughter.

  Their child.

  “And for Andie.”

  ***

  Two days later, Charity sat in the bleachers watching the Charmings play, with Andie on the pitching mound and Zeke coaching her. The kids blossomed under his tutelage and, despite the discomfort which still existed between them, he’d not shown one sign of it around their daughter. Though they’d discussed the need for a plan, neither of them actually came up with one.

  Instead, she’d shown him baby pictures and her work at the library and her plans to go back to school. She wanted her teacher’s certification. Every year reminded her of her high school goals to teach elementary kids. Now that she had a little girl in elementary school, it just reinforced her desire.

  “He’s really good with them.” Her mother settled onto the bleacher next to her and passed over a tin of her homemade cookies. The last thing Charity needed were chocolate chip cookies, but she took one anyway.

  “He’s amazing,” she said then took a bite. Sweet chocolate and sugar exploded on her tongue. Her frayed nerves suggested she could eat the whole tin. “I’ve never seen anyone handle them with the patience he shows. They all want his attention, but he is deliberate, and he makes sure that no one is left out.” The ease with which he handled the demands put upon him by the overeager players turned her to mush.

  “And how is he handling the truth?” Bless her mother’s heart, Lydia left her alone after that first night. It had been over forty-eight hours since she’d told her she was going to tell him. She hadn’t called to demand how it went. She hadn’t pried, not even when she came by the apartment after practice the night before and discovered Zeke and Andie splitting a pizza while they played a game of virtual baseball on the game system he’d shown up with. The expensive equipment hadn’t gone unnoticed, and while Charity thought it was too much, she couldn’t tell him no. Not when he’d been as excited as Andie was to play it.

  “Better than I am, I think.” Admitting her worry to her mother was easy. “I feel awful. I thought telling him would make things better and he—he’s been perfect. The better he is, the more of a failure I feel like.”

  “Baby, it’s good that he’s taking it well.” Of course it was. He could have brought lawyers into the equation or just been furious with her and shut her out altogether. No he couldn’t—more, he wouldn’t have. Her conscience annoyed her almost as much as her guilt. Zeke was a good man, the kind who owned his responsibilities, and he had a reputation for honorable behavior. A well-deserved one.

  What Lydia didn’t ask was whether they’d told Andie or not yet. “It is, but we haven’t figured out how to tell her. Zeke’s torn.”

  “About what?” Her mother pressed another cookie into her hand and Charity realized, belatedly, she’d devoured the first.

  Washing down the first one with a drink of her coffee, she contemplated the second. “He’s torn about telling her the truth. He’s worried she’s too young to understand that adults make mistakes, and that we were both kids. More, he’s worried she’ll blame me for it if we tell her I lied and, really…what kind of message does that send to a child?”

  Her mother said nothing for a long moment, nibbling one of the cookies as they watched Andie strike out the pitcher at bat. They both cheered for her then sat down. The reaction was so automatic, even in the midst of her emotional wrestling, that she glanced at her mom and shared a rueful smile.

  “You know, baby, parents are human. We make mistakes. I think the problem is that too many of our kids never see those mistakes and worse, they don’t see how we recover from them. How we make it right…”

  “Next you’re going to tell me you screwed up just like I did.”

  “Of course I didn’t,” came the swift, if prim response. “I made my own accidents and choices. Not all of them worked out ideally. For example, eight years ago, my daughter came to me and said she was pregnant and that she wasn’t going to tell the father the truth. She gave me a laundry list of reasons, most of which were absolute bullshit, and the creation of mountains from molehills, but she was so damn intent on it and so overly emotional, I was scared to argue with her. Scared she’d shut me out or, worse, make an even more terrible decision.”

  Chest tight, Charity studied her mother. Though she’d maintained a light tone, her lips whitened at the edges. “You did encourage me to tell him the truth, to make the decision together.”

  “Yes, I did, and what did you say?”

  “I said it was my decision and to…” Charity swallowed hard. She’d told her mother to butt out. Even then, clinging to that blind idea of doing the right thing provided her the only security blanket in the scary place her world had become.

  “Exactly.”

  Pulling herself out of the sticky mire of the past, she ate another cookie. After the first two, what could a third hurt? “How was that a mistake?”

  “Because you were still a kid, Charity. You couldn’t see the big picture; you could only see how it affected you both right then. Your job as a parent is to see all of it, to guide your kids even when it’s hard for them and for you.”

  “So you think we should tell her?” Desperate for the kernel of wisdom her mother seemed intent on sharing, she examined each word she used carefully.

  “I think you should be her mother and that man over there should be allowed to be her father. Andie deserves both of you, and the chance to be angry, to work out the emotional turmoil and to be stronger for it.” Her mother rose to cheer the change from pitching to batting as Andie struck out another player and they jogged in. Not sitting, she pivoted to face her. “I’m going to tell you now what I should have said to you then. This isn’t just about you or him. It’s about the life you created together and the life you can share. Be scared. Be upset. Cry if you have to, but get over the idea that you get to control everything for everyone. Life isn’t about making it easy for those around you, it’s about helping them rise to meet their challenges and to overcome them.”

  Tension turned her shoulders into bricks, but Charity nodded slowly. No, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but maybe it was what she needed.

  “You never ran away from your responsibilities, at least not on the surface.” Apparently, her mother wasn’t finished. “You decided what had to be done and you did it. Not whether it should be done, or what the best way to do it would be, or even a willingness to hear another plan. So, this isn’t a decision just for you. It’s one you make with him then with Andie… That’s what being a family is about.”

  “Okay.” Really, what else could she say to the advice?

  With a ghost of a smile on her lips, Lydia took her hand as she sat once more. “Now, tell me what you want to do. Really, about all of it.”

  “The short answer or the long one?”

  “Are they different?” Challenge soaked every word.

  “No.” Charity squeezed her mother’s hand as she glanced down to the field. Zeke had gathered all the players into a huddle and squatted down to be on their level. Whatever he said captivated their full attention. Andie caught her staring and gave a wave, excitement lighting her expression. After Charity waved back, Andie returned her focus to Zeke. Her daughter loved having him there. Loved listening to him.

  Finding out her hero was also her father was bound to change the dynamic.

  “We have to tell her…”

  “Tell her what, baby?” Mom’s presence bolstered her courage to admit the truth.

  “I have to tell her that the man I love—have always loved—is her father and that he wants to be her dad.”

  “Then it sounds like you have a plan.”

  It did, didn’t it?

  Chapter 6

  On day three of life as a ‘dad,’ Zeke fielded s
everal calls and messages he’d been ignoring during his stay in Sherwood Point while driving to Charity’s apartment—including one to his mom. His message to her earned a call from the boat and, it didn’t matter what it cost, she was a grandmother and over the moon. Well, except for the Charity part, but she promised him she could get over it. That was good as far as Zeke was concerned. His mom’s happiness meant a lot, but then so did Charity’s.

  They’d developed a routine—well, if one could call it a routine in three altogether short days. Each morning, he arrived in time to have breakfast with them. Andie relished her independence, so instead of driving her to school, he walked her as far as the corner of their apartment building before she continued on down to the road to where she waited for her bus.

  He hated that part. It hadn’t taken him more than once to discover he possessed a streak of violence ready and waiting to be unleashed if anyone looked sideways at the four-foot-tall girl who’d captured his heart effortlessly. To her credit, Charity hadn’t laughed in his face when he’d walked back inside. Instead, she’d given him a hug and promised that, although it didn’t get better, he would get used to it.

  Afterward, Charity went to work and, though he wanted to drive her, she’d reasonably pointed out that she owned her own vehicle. During the workday, he took care of promises to the town, met with their pee wee league coaches, and glad-handed the city council, but he never allowed any of it to make him late to lunch with Charity at the library or to be at the field when Andie arrived with her team. Since he was only there for a week, parents had all made arrangements for the team to spend two hours every afternoon with him.

  They showed up at three and had to be done no later than five. So far, they’d all managed it by five-thirty. He loved the team, adored seeing their eyes light up. Every single kid out there, from the best hitter to the worst catcher, shared an absolute delight for the game. They weren’t there to make money or get an endorsement deal or even to break a record—they were there for the game.

  “Zeke.” Mitch Connell, his agent, answered on the first ring. “You son of a bitch, where are you?”

  “Good to talk to you, too.” If not for their many years together, he might have taken offense at the man’s greeting, but Mitch had taken him on as a rookie, and gotten him the best possible deals, always believed in him, and handled the contracts, so Zeke could focus on what he loved—the game.

  “Next time you decide to take off, let someone know.” Good-natured chastisement, but chastisement nonetheless.

  “Duly noted.” It wasn’t worth the fight to point out the whole reason he hadn’t said anything to anyone was because he needed the break from the hoopla.

  “Good, good. What can I do for you this morning?”

  “I have some questions about my contract.”

  “What do you need to know?” Just like that, Mitch’s jovial tone sobered.

  By the time he parked at Charity’s, he had to stay in the truck another five minutes before wrapping the call. Mitch promised to get back to him by the end of the day. He’d already sent a note to his financial manager and another to the team managers. All of his policies and beneficiaries needed to be changed, quietly but swiftly. No matter what happened anywhere, he wanted Andie and Charity taken care of.

  Sliding out of the truck, he grabbed the box of donuts he’d stopped for from Charity’s favorite bakery—well, at least Mama Johns had been her favorite when they were in high school. She had a real thing for their éclairs.

  “Mr. Zeke!” Instead of being inside in her pajamas, as she had been the last two days, Andie raced down the concrete path in a pair of shorts and a baseball shirt which declared her a ‘pitch-her for the win.’ Her hair was up in a ponytail already. So far, he’d never seen it down. If not for the photos Charity had given him, he might doubt she ever worn it down.

  “You can just call me Zeke, sweetheart.” Despite the formal address, she gave him a bruising hug then pulled away to stare at the box with rounded blue eyes. She looked so much like her mother, right down to her button nose. The eyes, though? Those were his. It donkey kicked him every time he saw ‘em.

  “Donuts?”

  “As requested.” Leaning forward, he added in a stage whisper, “But the éclairs are for your mom.”

  “Ooo! She’s gonna smack you.” The cheerfulness underlying statement left him grinning. She held out her hands for the box, and he passed it over like the treasure it was before grabbing the bottle of chocolate milk he’d brought. If they were going to indulge in pure sugar for breakfast, might as well go all in.

  “Nah, she’ll be too busy enjoying her treat,” He winked.

  “Guess what?” Apparently they were done with that part of the conversation. Another fascinating fact about his daughter—damn, my daughter—she hopped from point to point without preamble or natural segues.

  “What?” He followed her obediently to the open front door. As active as she was, Andie needed a yard or a dog or maybe…a potential dad who didn’t get ahead of himself.

  “Mom and I are going to skip school and work today.” Andie pushed their open door the rest of the way, and Charity greeted him with a tired smile even as she set a second cup of coffee on the kitchen counter. The first cup remained in her hand and she took a long drink of it as she transferred her gaze from him to the box in Andie’s hands. “Mom, Mr. Zeke is here,” she announced unnecessarily. “And he brought donuts!”

  A grin pulled at his lips at her unvarnished excitement. He closed the door behind him before joining them in the kitchen. “We’re playing hooky today?”

  “Yes.” Charity flipped open the box and smacked Andie’s hand with a napkin before she could start grabbing the donuts. “Manners are for all day, not just special occasions.”

  “I’m sorry, Mommy. May I please have one?” From bouncing joyful child to sober, serious imp… God, could he love the little girl more? The pressure in his chest expanded and seemed to suck up all his available oxygen. Loving Charity—he loved her like he loved life. She was his other half, the part of him that had been missing for too long.

  “Yes, you may.” The moment she spotted the éclairs, however, her eyes narrowed. “Do you forget anything?”

  “Nope.” Aggravating her was fun. “It’s the little details. It’s what makes me a good pitcher.”

  “How come?” Andie asked, joining their conversation without fear. Confidence was a hard thing to teach kids. Charity had done a wonderful job of encouraging their daughter to engage her inquisitive mind.

  Purloining a single glazed donut that he could justify before he began his soon to be in season diet, he gave Andie a considering look. “As a pitcher, you have to learn to read the batter. No two people are going to hit the same way, not even from game to game. Some people have tells. Sometimes they are more fatigued than others and sometimes they try to fake you out so you’ll give them a soft pitch. If you know the guy’s a strong batter and really accurate, you learn to paint the corners, pitting your skill against his.”

  Eyes widening, Andie wiped away some of the sugar and chocolate sticking to her mouth then swallowed her bite before asking, “What happens then?”

  “Luck…sometimes it’s on my side and sometimes it’s not. But that’s where you find the joy in the game. I can throw a perfect ball and that batter can hit it for all he’s worth and the outfielder can still catch it.”

  Her laughter bubbled up and filled him with an almost effervescent joy. He wanted more mornings like this—more, he wanted mornings that began at home not with him in a hotel.

  Emotion clogging his throat, he took a bite of the donut and let the sugar shock his system. A long swallow of coffee did more to help. “So why are we playing hooky today?” They hadn’t actually answered his initial question.

  “Mom says we need to qualify for our time.” Andie’s answer didn’t clear it all the way up for him, so he raised his brows.

  “Quality time,” Charity explained. “We need to
plan.” It kick started him. Four words.

  “I’m game.” No way he would turn down her invitation. “When do we start?”

  “We already have.” Her slow smile melted him. If she asked him for the moon, he’d give it to her. Or at least try damn hard to make it happen.

  “Donuts are quality time.” The childish pronouncement drew a laugh from both of them. Zeke grinned and finished his treat. Calling Mitch that morning had been the right thing to do. This year marked his last as contracted to the team. He had free agent status after this season. Mitch was thrilled about the fees they could command, but Zeke was more interested in the locations he could pursue. If Charity and Andie were in Sherwood Point, he needed to be there, too.

  “So what happens after donuts?”

  “I don’t know,” Andie swung her gaze to her mom. “Can we play video games?”

  “We can do anything you want, sweetheart, as long as it’s all three of us together.”

  A beat. A pause. Then Andie asked, “Mom, does that mean Mr. Zeke is part of our family now?”

  He held his breath. This was Charity’s ball to throw. He’d back any play she made.

  “Yes, baby,” Charity said. “Zeke’s always been a part of our family.”

  The air whooshed out of him at Andie’s cheer. Really, was that all it took for a seven-year-old to accept a major change in her life? ‘Course family and father weren’t quite the same thing.

  Still, he had a man on base and he was coming up at bat. Time to whack the hell out of the pitch they’d thrown him.

  ***

  Even though they’d played hooky from her job at the library and Andie’s class at school, they couldn’t miss Charmings’ practice. The other parents had an adult version of Zeke’s childhood jersey made, right down to the number and the name. He hadn’t hesitated to strip off his T-shirt in order to pull on the new one. All the moisture had fled her mouth at the vision he presented. Yes, he’d always been toned, but now he seemed totally ripped. Thick veins showed along the surface of his skin and each abdominal muscle seemed perfectly sculpted into an excellent six pack.