by Tracy March
She and Paige hugged each other, swaying quickly back and forth, and chanting, “Yay, yay, yay!”
The only person missing was Cole. Liza wished he were here to share the excitement with her and her parents, as she’d been there with him when the Nats had won their division.
“Champagne and Orioles pie for everyone!” her mom shouted, popping a cork.
Liza glanced over and saw Orioles pies lined up on the counter, pretty as a picture. She grinned at Paige. “At least you made ’em…not me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cole’s A-game had returned, and he knew it was because of Liza. The Nats’ pitching had been lights-out tonight, and they’d beaten the Mets in record time. One more regular-season game, then on to the playoffs. The Nats had played tough all year; now they’d be vying for a spot in the World Series. Cole had dreamed all his life about playing on a World Series team. Maybe his dream would come true.
As soon as he got the news about the Orioles clinching their division title, he tweeted Liza, wishing he could be there to party with her. He thought about calling, but knew from experience that it was pure bedlam in Baltimore right now.
Cole Collins @Cole Collins
Congrats to @LizaSutherland, her folks, and the Os. Well played.
Within moments, Liza responded.
Liza Sutherland @LizaSutherland
Missing you. We’ll save some pie and champagne! Go Os! #worldseriesbound
She’d attached a picture of her and Paige, wearing Orioles caps and raising flutes of champagne. Liza proudly held an Orioles pie, her chin tipped up, a satisfied grin on her face. Light from the camera shone in her green eyes, and she looked…happy.
Cole’s heart flipped. This was the first time she’d ever tweeted him. She’d put it out in public that she missed him. That’s all it took for him to decide to head to Baltimore.
Showered but not shaven, he left the clubhouse, hoping to get to Liza before too late.
“Heck of a game.”
Crap. Cole recognized Frank’s voice behind him, and turned to see him leaning against the wall.
“Got a minute?” Frank asked.
Cole wasn’t in the mood for Frank tonight. His threat to drop Cole as a client still stung. “I was headed up to Baltimore to celebrate with Liza.” He figured Frank would already know why.
Frank put a beefy hand on Cole’s shoulder, his brow furrowed. “I think that’s gonna have to wait. There’s something important we need to talk about tonight.”
Cole sighed, but his annoyance quickly turned to fear. Was Frank quitting on him? “What?”
“How about we head over to your place?” Normal people could just go to a bar for a drink or pick a local restaurant. But he and Frank would get no privacy in public around here.
They made it to Cole’s apartment pretty quickly, considering the huge after-game crowd—another change since the Nats had started winning. Cole remembered wondering if they’d ever fill their amazing stadium, and now they did it regularly.
“Want a drink?” Cole asked, thinking he needed one himself, but deciding against it. He’d had Frank over several times before, and he always kept a bottle of scotch handy for him.
Frank nodded.
Cole poured him a drink and they sat in the living area of Cole’s apartment—basic leather couch, a recliner, a coffee table. A giant flat-screen TV on the wall. The place was more like a modified Residence Inn than a home, but it was convenient during the season.
Frank was as big as the recliner. Except for the thick middle, Cole guessed he looked about the same sitting in it. “Cole, son,” Frank said then lowered his eyebrows. “I’m the guy who donated the money to send you to John’s baseball camps. I’m the guy who put you two together, then watched from a ways away while y’all got close, like family.” He took a gulp of scotch. “I was younger then. Made a lot of mistakes. The worst one was envy. So when I took you on as a client back in the day, and John came to me with his plans to bring you on with the Orioles…”
Cole remembered the first time he’d met Frank, after one of his home games at UNC. At the time, he hadn’t been fazed by the big-shot agent’s offer to represent him. Things had been going his way, and the future had looked so bright. What a mistake it had been to think his track to the big leagues would be smooth and fast.
“I offered John a deal with another player.” Frank blinked several times quickly and took a deep breath that lifted his broad chest. “And I told him and Sylvia to get out of your life.”
Cole’s heart hammered. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at Frank.
“Believe me, they fought me like heavyweights—”
“Why would you do that?” Cole had never heard the tone in his voice—there were so many emotions fighting in it.
“Because I’m your father,” Frank said, “and I resented them acting like you were their boy.”
Frank might as well have hit him in the head with a baseball bat.
He was too stunned to speak as he raced to put all the pieces into place. All this time—all my life—I figured I didn’t have a father who gave a damn. And Frank was right there? Cole closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, letting the news sink in. No wonder Frank sometimes knew more about what was going on with him than he knew himself. But why hasn’t Frank told me he’s my father? He hadn’t been willing to step up to the plate, so he should’ve left John and Sylvia alone. Then Cole would’ve at least had some kind of family.
His thoughts flashed back to seeing John and Sylvia for the first time in years at Sweet Bee’s.
We’ve missed you. Sylvia’s sincere-sounding words had stayed with him. And so had John’s. Good to see you, Cole. Heck of a season you’ve got going. Pressure built in Cole’s throat, and he swallowed against it.
Frank bent forward, set his drink on the coffee table, and propped his elbows on his knees. He stared at Cole straight-on. “I got selfish about everything, thinking I wanted you to myself to make up for all that lost time. You see, I didn’t even know about you for years. I’d met your mom in a bar at a casino in Atlantic City, and I bought her a drink. Lookin’ lovely and lonely, she told me her boyfriend had dumped her and left her there with no way home.” He furrowed his brow. “She said the guy hit her from time to time, so it was no big loss.”
Cole’s chest tightened and heat rose in his face. He hated to hear that kind of thing about his mom—he was embarrassed enough about his dysfunctional background, and he had a feeling that was about to get worse.
Frank sat up, fussed with one of his fingernails, then rested his hands in his lap. “Turned out we were from the same area—give or take a few hours—so I offered to take her home the next day. She had nowhere to spend the night, so I invited her to stay with me.”
Cole knew where this was going. He was living proof.
“It wasn’t like you’re probably thinkin’,” Frank said. “My room had two beds. She slept in one, I slept in the other—as much as I could, considering I kept thinkin’ I’d rather be over there with her.”
Cole nodded numbly. Men were all the same.
“And man it was a long drive home—New Jersey to North Carolina and runnin’ low on sleep.” Frank rocked steadily in the recliner. “Plenty of time for her to tell me all about herself, about barely finishing high school and workin’ at Piggly Wiggly. I wasn’t too long out of college myself, then, working for the Carolina League.”
Cole had a hard time imagining Frank as a twenty-something kid who wasn’t running his own show. Ever since Cole had known him, he’d been a well-established, well-respected, independent agent.
“When we got near Mebane, I figured she was giving me directions to her house, but we ended up on an abandoned farm. She asked me to park the car in the rickety barn so we wouldn’t get caught where we didn’t bel
ong.” Frank looked away from Cole. “Then she showed me how much she appreciated the ride.”
Cole had been relieved he hadn’t been conceived in a casino hotel room, only to find out it happened in a car in a rickety abandoned barn. “What kind of car was it?” he asked.
Frank smiled a little. “A red eight-banger Ford Mustang.”
At least there was that.
“She was a sweet girl, your mom.” Frank looked wistful. “I called her not too long after that and asked her out. But back then, long distance was farther than it seems today. She said she was back with the boyfriend, and he was finally treatin’ her nice.” He stopped rocking. “I never even knew she got pregnant till your grandma tracked me down after your mom died. I was so sorry to hear about the accident, but then to learn I had a son? Sure, I was skeptical, but the blood types added up. Your mom claimed you were mine, and all I had to do was look at a picture of you to see you were the spittin’ image of my dad when he was a boy.”
Cole’s mind reeled. Frank hadn’t known about him until after his mom had died? Cole took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm despite his building tension. “What do you mean, my mom claimed I was yours?”
“After your mom died, your grandma found a diary where she’d written about me givin’ her that ride from Atlantic City. She said no guy had ever done something so nice for her and not expected anything in return.” Frank shook his head. “Guess that’s why we ended up in the barn.”
Cole felt a pang of sympathy for his mom, and regretted yet again the life she’d chosen. But this was about his father. “What kept you away once you found out about me?”
“I was married by then, and my wife was havin’ nothing to do with another woman’s teenage kid—especially since she couldn’t have kids of her own.”
Cole thought about that for a moment. He could have gone from being the drunk lady’s son to being another woman’s teenage kid. No wonder he was so messed up. “So you became the invisible dad. The anonymous donor who sent me to baseball camp.”
Frank clenched his jaw. “I’m not proud of it, that’s for sure, and I wish I’d done things differently. But I tried to help out your grandma and you as best I could.”
Cole remembered how things had gotten a little better for them financially after his mom had died. No big change, just an extra pair of jeans for back-to-school and snacks in the pantry that they couldn’t normally afford—that kind of thing.
“When you were finishin’ up at UNC, your grandma died. I sure hated to see her go, for her sake and yours. The wife was the ex by then, so I figured it was my time to step up.” Frank was quiet for a long while, rocking.
Cole took a deep breath and waited.
“That’s when I blew it,” Frank said finally. He grimaced. “My big fat ego saw John and Sylvia actin’ like family to you, and instead of being glad you had them, I was jealous.” He gripped the arms of the recliner. “So I called them off. Poor Sylvia was beside herself, and John made a hell of a fuss, but I stood my ground and told them I was your father, and I could handle you and your baseball business.” He pressed his lips together tightly. “I had a good deal worked out for you with the Nationals…”
Cole’s gut clenched.
“They were building their roster,” Frank said. “And you were just the type of kid they were looking for to hit the big leagues quick.”
“But that didn’t happen.” Cole said angrily. “Because I lost it.” He rubbed his hand roughly over his scruffy cheek and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to control his temper. “I lost my confidence because I thought John decided he didn’t want me to play for the Orioles. Grandma was gone, and Mom had always been gone—even before she died. Then John and Sylvia bailed on me. All I had was baseball, and I couldn’t even make that work.”
Frank nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.” He bowed his head for a moment, then set his blue-eyed gaze on Cole.
Blue like mine…
“I promised John and Sylvia I’d tell you that you were my boy.” Frank picked up his drink and took a slug.
“But that never happened,” Cole said sharply.
“I chickened out,” Frank said meekly. “There’s no excuse except I was afraid.”
Cole had never seen this side of Frank, and it confused him even more.
“I figured you’d hate me if I told you that you were my boy after all this time. You might not understand why I wasn’t around when you were a kid.” Frank shrugged weakly. “I never meant for things to work out this way. You make bad choices in life and you pay. In the beginning, I kept angling for the right time to tell you, and I just never found it.” He shrugged as if his shoulders were way too heavy. “I guess I never really found the courage.”
He took the last swallow of his scotch. “Poor John and Sylvia had no idea I hadn’t kept my word until I saw them at the pie war. There they were, still torn up about what happened after all these years, and hoping to mend things.”
Cole took a deep breath and blew it out loudly. He’d never seen this side of Frank, and it confused him even more. “So what made you tell me now?”
“John called me tonight, breathin’ fire. Evidently Liza was askin’ about what happened between you and her folks. He said either I tell you, or he was going to, and you’d probably take it a lot better comin’ from me.”
Cole frantically tried to make sense of everything. The idea of John looking out for him went counter to everything he’d believed for years…just like the idea of Frank being his father. Questions occurred to him faster than he could possibly ask them. “What about Mack?” My uncle…
“Mack’s a heck of a brother—a good man,” Frank said sincerely. “Better man than I’ll ever be. He’s hated that all these years have gone by without me tellin’ you. It’s come between us, really. But he’s just gone about his business with you and kinda given up on me. Not that I blame him. I mean, we’re still cordial, but there’s been a rift. Maybe we can work on that now.”
Cole cocked his head. “And Liza? When you arranged for me to get involved her, you had to know this would probably come out.”
Frank nodded. “Maybe it was my way of lettin’ fate handle my problems for me. I risked losin’ you, but I figured that gal could make you happy, and you’d get John and Sylvia back.”
“So this was never about my contract?”
The mention of business immediately animated Frank. “Oh, I didn’t say that, son.”
The familiar nickname took on new meaning for Cole. It occurred to him that he’d never heard Frank call anyone else “son” all these years, but it had never crossed Cole’s mind that Frank meant it literally.
“You definitely needed to settle things down. The Nats are still makin’ up their minds about you. Your game is golden, as long as you stay focused. But you need to keep things steady with Liza so they understand you’re serious.”
“I am serious.” At least Cole was certain about that. At this point, there was nothing fake about their relationship for him.
“Keep that attitude,” Frank said, “and you’ll be fine.” His eyes got misty and Cole saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.
Cole clenched his teeth. He was fighting so many warring emotions that he didn’t know what else to say to his father. He stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go for a drive, just lock up when you go.” He nodded, convincing himself that leaving was the best thing to do. “Everything’s out there now, so…”
He grabbed his keys and left. Being alone was what he knew, and that’s what he needed right now.
Cole drove his pickup in silence, both hands on the wheel. Frank is my father… The news had dazed and confused him. He never would’ve imagined he’d learn who his father was, and why John and Sylvia had drifted out of his life, all at the same time.
Why had Frank done thi
s to him? And why hadn’t he told Cole before? His anger coiled tighter with each question. His life could’ve been so different if Frank would’ve been there for him. He drew back his arm, struck the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, then balled it into a fist. Ow! Stupid move. Showing up tomorrow with a self-inflicted hand injury wouldn’t help him get a new contract with the Nats. He needed to smash some baseballs, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
He rolled down the window. The crisp autumn air whipped against his face and thrashed his hair. For all these years, he hadn’t thought there could be an acceptable explanation for what John and Sylvia had done to him. Turned out there was. They clearly weren’t blameless in all that had happened, but Frank said they wanted to make amends.
But what about Frank? It might take a long time for Cole to wrap his mind around the idea that Frank was his father and figure out how to handle it. He’d always thought of Frank as more than an agent—kind of a wise adviser who was around an awful lot. But how could he have known that all agents didn’t act like that? Frank was the only one he’d ever had. And Frank had been there to glue Cole’s world back together after the Orioles hadn’t drafted him, for all the good it did. Then he’d recommended his brother Mack to work for Cole…
Mack had kept Frank’s secret all along, too, just like the Sutherlands. But Cole couldn’t blame him. What would Mack have gained from revealing the truth? As it turned out, Cole was closer to Mack than he’d ever been to Frank. Probably because Frank had always been knotted up with his secret, and Mack just wanted to help.
There was so much to sort out. Frank was still Cole’s agent, and that relationship wasn’t going to change anytime soon—if ever. This was no time to make rash decisions, and right before contract negotiations was no time to be looking for another agent. Cole sped down the open country road, thinking about Frank’s recent threat to leave him. Now he knew just how empty that threat had been.
It would take Cole a while to muddle through all that Frank had said. To sift through the anger and bitterness and could-have-beens. And it would take him a while to adjust. Would he ever see Frank as his father? He couldn’t say right now. The harder question was whether he could ever forgive him. All those years without a father. All those years without John and Sylvia. All those years alone. He’d do best to look toward the future now. There’d been enough damage done by shutting people out, and he didn’t want to go through that hurt again.