by Susan Wiggs
The boy was quiet for a long time. Bo braced himself, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line with that speech, which revealed more of his heart than he’d intended.
Finally, AJ said, “Okay.”
“Christ, you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, so’re you.”
AJ had turned Bo into someone he barely recognized and never expected to be—a father. A better man than he’d been before AJ came into his life. He couldn’t claim to be good at it, but he was clear on what he felt for this boy. “I’m not going to quit helping your mom. Say you believe that.”
AJ stared at him for a long time. Bo sensed all kinds of things going on in the boy’s head, but all AJ said was, “I believe it.” He still looked unhappy, though.
“Would you rather I hadn’t brought you to the city for the weekend?” Bo challenged him. “Would you rather have missed out on this?” He encompassed the fancy suite with a gesture.
“No,” AJ admitted. “It’s cool.”
“And just so you know,” he told AJ, “all this wouldn’t seem nearly as cool if you weren’t here with me.” Bo meant it from the bottom of his heart. If there was one thing he’d learned from being with Kim, it was the power of saying what you meant, loud and clear.
“Okay.” The boy was still guarded.
“So, what do you say? I better get dressed for high society. And you can get busy picking out what you want to order from room service and what movies you want to watch while I’m at the reception.” He finally coaxed a smile from AJ by finding an upbeat radio station that was playing “Superfreak,” and dressing in time to the music. He slapped on aftershave in exaggerated fashion, then tossed the bottle to AJ, who cringed a little as he daubed some on.
“I hope I don’t blow it tonight,” Bo said.
“You won’t blow it.”
“The reception’s going to be full of VIPs.”
“Quit freaking.”
Kim had told Bo what to wear. He knew better than to argue with her taste. He held up a sport coat that had cost him more than his first car. The song on the radio faded, and a commercial came on, so he turned down the volume. He felt AJ watching him, and sensed a shift in the boy’s mood. “What?”
“You could fix everything, you know,” he said in a voice that was almost too quiet to hear.
Bo paused in the middle of knotting his tie. “What do you mean, fix everything?”
“My mom, is what I mean. You could fix it.”
“If I knew how, I’d fix it.”
“There’s a way.” AJ paused, took a deep breath. “You could marry her.”
“Sorry, bud. What’s that?” Bo hoped he’d heard wrong. But the curl of dread in his gut told him otherwise.
“If you married my mother, she’d be allowed to live in this country legally. I swear, it can work. People do it all the time.”
The way it came out, all in a rush, indicated to Bo that the boy had been thinking about the idea for a while, probably trying to figure out how to broach the topic.
“Aw, AJ.” Bo’s heart ached for the kid. He’d probably built up this big scenario in his mind, picturing the three of them together as a family. Bo was familiar with his father fantasies. He’d had them himself as a kid. “That kind of thing isn’t going to work. The system’s set up to keep people from doing it.”
“It’s a free country,” AJ said. “You’re allowed to marry anybody you want, right?”
“The authorities have ways to figure out which marriages are sincere and which took place just to cheat the system.”
“You know how to be sincere,” AJ insisted. “You’ve been studying it, I’ve seen you. Kim taught you how to be sincere.”
“It’s not the same. That’s media training, not... Sorry, AJ. I get where you’re coming from, but it’s not going to happen.”
“You liked her once, didn’t you?”
The stark question hung in the air. “Your mother, you mean?”
“Yes. You liked her once. You liked her enough to make me. Maybe you could like her enough to bring her back, and stick around long enough for her to change her status. It wouldn’t be hard. I looked it up on the internet, and the forms are even on the Immigration and Naturalization website. You just fill them out and send them in. I know it can be done.”
“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet.”
“What about what you said before?” Desperation edged AJ’s voice now. “You said you’d do anything for me.”
“I should have qualified it—I’ll do anything legal and ethical.”
“This is legal. I need to be with my mom. Tell me you’ll at least think about it.” AJ sank down on one of the beds and grabbed a pillow. The massive bed made him look tiny and bereft.
Bo went down on one knee in front of him, touched his shoulder. “Your mom’s lucky to have you, AJ, she really is. And the two of you are going to be together soon, that’s a promise.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll get married to her?”
“It means I’ll keep working as hard as I know how to find a solution to this.”
“I found the solution.”
“You found a rumor on the web. I’ll ask Sophie about it, okay? That’s what I’ll do.”
AJ crushed the pillow against his chest. “You’re gonna wrinkle your pants.”
Bo stood up, brushed a kiss on the boy’s head, and the gesture felt as natural as if he’d been doing it forever. He wished he could inhale all of the kid’s pain and carry it away somewhere.
Then his mobile phone chirped—a text message from Kim: Showtime. He was quickly finding out that one of the hardest things about being a parent was being pulled in different directions from moment to moment. He stuck the phone in his pocket. “I have to head downstairs, buddy. You go ahead and order room service and a pay-per-view movie, anything you want. I’ll be in the ballroom. You call me if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I’m not hungry,” AJ muttered. “You know what I need.”
Bo grazed the boy’s cheek lightly with his knuckles, hiding his terror that his son was fading away before his eyes. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
AJ nodded, hunching his shoulders, diminished. His gaze went to the photograph in the plastic sleeve, which lay on the nightstand. He brought the photo of his mother everywhere he went. It killed Bo that AJ only had the one photo.
“We’ll figure this out,” Bo said. “You’re gonna be all right.” The words felt empty and false. He studied his son’s face, and saw the truth there: AJ was not all right. His heart was broken. He wasn’t going to be all right until he was reunited with his mother.
Here was something Bo hadn’t understood until AJ came into his life—that the hardest thing about being a father was seeing your kid hurting, and knowing you’d do anything to make it stop. And not being able to stop the hurt? Well, that was pure frustration. The boy’s suffering would go on and on unless...
Bo’s stomach was in knots as he made his way down the hall to the elevators. On the way, he phoned Sophie to ask if it was possible, what AJ suggested. “I know it sounds crazy, but I have to know, is it true? If I marry her, can she come back to the States?”
“Yes, but it’s a very involved process...” She mentioned a residency requirement, a provisional visa and a two-year period to make certain the marriage was legitimate. Obviously, she’d already studied this possibility.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem like a good option for you. Bo—”
“But it’s an option,” he said.
“Yes, but—”
That was all he needed to hear. A yes from Sophie.
“Look into it for me. I’ll call you later,” he said, ringing off as the elevator arrived.
&nb
sp; He stepped on board, nodding a greeting to a diminutive Filipino man whose name badge identified him as Timbô. “Evening,” Bo said, trying to shift gears. He had to do a good job at this reception for AJ’s sake, as well as his own.
“Good evening, sir,” the attendant said. The elevator descended a couple of floors, and when the doors parted, there was Kim.
She looked like something out of a dream. Her long, fitted gown reminded Bo of the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. She’d seemed so out of reach that day, yet now here she was, making him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. And just like that, he shifted gears. Knowing she was here made everything possible. “You look amazing,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek, catching a waft of fragrance.
“Likewise,” she replied. Then she addressed Timbô. “Did your phone call work?” she asked him.
“Yes, madam. My wife and I talked for one hour,” Timbô said with a happy smile, stepping aside so they could exit to the lobby. “Have a good evening, Miss van Dorn.”
“You’re a marriage counselor, too?” Bo asked her.
“They’ve been apart for a year,” she explained. “I showed him how to make an overseas phone call using a free service on the internet. It’s just too sad, thinking about them being apart so long.”
Bo flashed on what that would be like—loving someone, but separated, unable to see or touch her. He wished they were alone instead of in a crowded hotel. There was so much he wanted to tell her. So much that he loved her for. He loved her because she did things that were hard, things she didn’t want to do, for all the right reasons. He loved her because she had not just made him into a professional athlete. Like AJ, she’d made him into a better man. He even loved her for the fact that she noticed elevator attendants when most people gave them no more attention than a standing ashtray.
Yet tonight, maybe for the first time, he realized love might not be enough to keep them together. His situation with AJ and Yolanda had grown complicated, even more so after AJ had planted the seed of his idea. If the kid was really onto something, it would change everything between Bo and Kim. He thought about what it would mean, really mean, to marry a virtual stranger who had kept his son from him for twelve years. Then he thought about what it would mean to live without Kim, the woman who had finally taught him to love without fear and with a full heart.
For the sake of AJ, Bo would do what he had to, but he couldn’t help counting the cost.
“Hey, don’t look so serious,” she chided him, taking his arm as they passed the lobby toward the ballroom. “It’s your big night. You’re going to knock them dead.”
“I’ll give it my best shot, coach.”
* * *
The evening was a triumph in the professional sense. Nobody, not even Kim, seemed to notice that Bo was in turmoil, his mind a million miles away, his heart already hurting over what he had to do for AJ’s sake. Kim had taught him well. You show people only what you want them to see, tell them only what you want them to hear. Time passed in a blur of handshakes, polite exchanges, hearty assurances of future meetings. After an hour or two, he had a pocket full of contacts—stars of the game, people from national TV, others who repped fine cars, booze, shaving products and all kinds of things that had nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with image. He was grateful to have Kim around. Just her presence gave him confidence. She worked the room like the pro she was, and seemed to enjoy every minute of it.
For the first time, he saw her in her element, completely at ease with guys who were named after founding fathers or investment firms, not country-western ballads. More forcefully than ever, Bo understood that not only did they come from different worlds, they belonged in different worlds.
She made a valiant attempt to make Bo seem like he belonged, too, introducing him to sportcasters and marketing experts.
“You’ve got quite a fan in this lady here,” said Stu Westfield, a producer with ESPN. “To hear her tell it, you’re going to be the second coming, bringing a balance of freshness, strength and experience to the mound.”
“Sounds better than just saying I’m old,” Bo admitted.
Westfield guffawed and shook his hand, then Kim’s. “You’re as good as you are good-looking,” he told her, “and I mean that in the best possible way. You ever do any on-air reporting? Color commentary?”
“Not since my college intern days. I worked for Vin Scully,” she said, earning raised eyebrows, for Scully was a broadcasting legend in calling ball games.
Westfield tucked her business card into his pocket. “Who’s your agent?”
She laughed. “I don’t have an agent.”
“Then I’ll call you directly,” he said, giving them both a wave before both Kim and Bo were invited to chat with Joe Girardi, the team’s manager, followed by a handful of potential sponsors.
“You were fantastic,” Kim said as they left the reception. “I’m proud of you.”
Powerful words. He couldn’t believe the way they made him feel. Insane with love and gratitude, but at the same time, sick in the pit of his stomach, because he’d been hiding something all evening. AJ’s desperate suggestion had cracked open a door, and Bo knew what he had to do.
Unaware, Kim seemed to float down the carpeted hallway. “They’ll never forget you,” she told him. “I won’t let them. You’re on your way.”
“You got that right,” he murmured, his stomach in knots.
In the elevator, she sighed and pressed herself back against him, while the operator stared straight ahead. When it stopped at her floor, she tugged on Bo’s hand, towing him along behind her as she exited the elevator. Then she stopped, lifted herself up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I was just thinking, maybe we should go to my room and—”
Using all his self-control, Bo held her gently by the shoulders and took a step away. “Honey, you know there’s nothing I’d like better. I need to get back to AJ, though.”
Her face fell. “I just thought...”
He knew what she thought. Boy, did he ever. But until he figured out exactly what to do, he needed to put some distance between him and this woman he loved so completely. He couldn’t think straight around her.
“Anyway, I should go.” He leaned down and gently kissed her mouth.
She tilted her head to one side, studying him with a keen expression. She knew him too well, and he could tell she knew something was up. “See you in the morning, then. We can sleep in. Take the afternoon train back to Avalon.”
“Sure, sounds good.” Without thinking, without being able to resist, he cupped her cheek in his hand.
She reached up and covered his hand with hers. “Last chance. You sure you don’t want to come in for a nightcap?”
What he wanted was to come in for the entire night. For a lifetime.
“Like I said, I better check on AJ.”
There was no way to adequately explain to Kim what he intended to do. There was a reason Bo Crutcher had never broken a promise. It was because he never made one.
* * *
Something was wrong. Kim knew it. She watched Bo walking toward the elevator, as grim and resolute as a man on his way to a firing squad. “Just a second,” she said.
His shoulders stiffened; then he turned back to face her. “I should go—”
“Not before we talk. We’ll go to my room—for privacy.” She suddenly felt embarrassed for coming on to him earlier. His head was somewhere else, and she should have sensed that. Something had shifted, it was obvious now, and she could feel the weight of it, pressing on her. She unlocked the door and walked straight through the room, out to the balcony. It would be too distracting to talk to him with the big, cushy bed just sitting there, looking so inviting.
The night air bit at her, and she welcomed its sting on her cheeks; it completely counteracted the effects of the champagne she’d drunk at the r
eception. From this vantage point, she could see couples bundling into the horse-and-carriage rides in lamp-lit Central Park. It seemed terribly romantic, but she didn’t let herself dwell on romance. Not now.
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
“I’m taking AJ to Texas,” Bo said quietly.
It meant something that he didn’t bother to equivocate, just let her have it. She swallowed the lump in her throat, the one that had been building since he’d acted so strange in the elevator. Yet there was a note of regret in his voice, in the way he carried himself, the set of his jaw, that caused her to brace herself. She couldn’t speak, though. There was nothing for her to say. She waited.
“It’s something I have to do,” he continued. “For AJ. I got a few weeks before training starts in Florida, and I...just have to do more for Yolanda. AJ—he’s fading away before my eyes, and it’s killing him. It’s killing me. He has to be with his mother.”
She’d never seen Bo like this, so intensely serious. “How will that work? Are you saying you’re taking him to Mexico?”
He raised his hands as if to touch her, then took a step back, lowering his arms. Why wouldn’t he touch her? It was all she could think about, his arms, holding her, hands caressing her. Yet now he seemed curiously distant.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “You’re scaring me.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to act all weird. Bringing Yolanda back for good—that’s the only thing I can think of that will save AJ.”
“You’ve been trying to do that since day one. What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to marry his mother.” He wore a look of absolute conviction, which was only underscored by the pain in his eyes.
The world tilted. Kim wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard. But she couldn’t. She suddenly knew exactly what the plan was.