by Solly, Clare
What was unresolved in his life? Confused, Joe thought back. It was almost a month after they lost the pennant when he remembered. Earlier in the season he got a letter from the bank in East Haddam about paperwork for his parent’s property. He had set it the letter aside and forgotten it. Like he had forgotten about this town, because his life had moved on. It wasn’t until he started packing up boxes to move in with Heather that he found the bank’s letter.
An alarm went off in his head, or maybe something clicked into place. Since it was off season, he suggested that he and Heather come here for the holidays to get away from the spotlight and fix up the house together.
“I’m not going to go all Chip and Joanna with you in the country for a couple of months,” she had told him as she filed her nails and changed the channel on the television to some reality show chronicling her life with a bunch of strangers. He must have looked completely disappointed because moments later her tone changed, and Heather snuggled up to him.
“Look, baby. Go back to your quaint little town and work on your house. Maybe that’s what your coach was talking about. Get rid of your parent’s house and let go of the past. That will get your head on your future.” He looked at her but said nothing. Maybe she really did understand him he thought pushing aside a distant warning in his head. “You get it all fixed up,” she snuggled in closer and whispered in his ear, “and I’ll even come out for Christmas if you want.” This was what he wanted. Closeness.
When her phone buzzed from the coffee table thirty seconds later, she pushed herself off of him and the moment was broken. That phone always got her attention first. Sighing heavily, he got up and went into the home gym.
“You know I have to keep up with my social media. My fans need me,” she hollered after him. Great, he thought, I’m in a relationship where I have to compete with two million other people for her attention. He dialed up the treadmill, cranked up his music and started running to nowhere. A few weeks later he decided to break off his relationship with Heather. They decided to make it an amicable break but would wait to break it to the press.
* * *
Maybe that was what he was doing in his parent’s house: running to nowhere.
He didn’t want to think about it. So, he threw himself into fixing the house. He needed to finish and leave all of this behind him. Joe had everything he wanted back in Los Angeles. Didn’t he?
Joe hurt inside and out. Even with his daily off-season workout regimen, painting still made feel muscles he didn’t know he had.
Working his way room by room, Joe was now updating the formal sitting room with the big picture window that looked out over the big front yard. He had been avoiding being in here. Memories flooded his brain every time he walked into this room. Long discussions about his future were had in here. Joe had broken at least three vases in this room from playing in the house. In this room, he signed his first baseball contract. And he would never admit this to anyone, but he came home the terrible day that Harold asked Dottie out and cried in this room. It wasn’t a long cry, and no one was witness. Two or three heart wrenching sobs. He hadn’t cried since. Not even at the news of hearing about his parent’s deaths.
Joe needed a break. He got himself a cup of coffee and went and sat on the porch. Looking out over the five acres his family owned. Like much of the area it was densely wooded all around. The gravel driveway sloped down from the road in a semicircle that ran in front of the house. There were big azalea bushes that grew and a few evergreens to liven up the middle of the yard. It wasn’t a place to play.
However, his father had cleared away much of the back yard so there was plenty of room to practice; the remains of a baseball diamond were still barely outlined, almost two decades later. Just down the back section of the wrap around porch there was a fire pit past the small, now overgrown, herb garden. And farther back there was a large barn that was more for storage. Joe’s father wanted to retire and work on cars, but he just didn’t get there. A couple of horseshoe pits were inside, and some stale hay, but that was it. Brush and trees looked like they were sneaking up on the house but hid a pond just beyond their border. In the summers he, Hetty and Dottie would sneak off to the pond and fish. Well, pretend to fish. It was idyllic. A recognized Community Wildlife Habitat, deer and other wild animals wandered freely through the front yard. The wrap around porch his father always claimed that his mother required, was glassed in. Even though it wasn’t as warm as the house, anyone sitting on the porch was protected from the elements. There was a wooden swing and two overstuffed chairs, that had claimed their share of dust. Being outside year-round and the remodel wasn’t allowing them to stay clean. Other chairs and two benches, all a light yellow to match the traditional exterior were scattered about as if they were having their own individual meetings.
Excited voices squealing at every roll of the epic Monopoly games he, Hetty and Dottie played years ago. Sometimes leaving the board set up for days, they kept going around and around and around until one of the three had money left. She was always bending the world see things her way. Joe was surprised Hetty wasn’t in politics or broadcast news with how much she always convinced them of her thoughts on things.
Dottie was always the optimist and urged them to keep playing. She was always sure “just one more roll” would get her back in the game. And they stayed with her. Hetty because she was always supportive of her best friend. And Joe, because his heart belonged to her. Dottie’s voice echoed through his head beautiful as a bell. He could almost hear it now…
“What are you grinning at?” Dottie’s inquisition broke through his reverie.
Joe looked up to find Dottie standing in front of him with a large plastic container with a red lid filled with something, and a smaller one sitting on top.
Slightly embarrassed, he smiled at the vision. “Remember when we would sit out here until the sun went down, or later playing Monopoly?”
“That dumb game,” she said coming to sit next to him, setting the dishes down on the table in front of them and kicking her feet up, crossing her ankles. “I don’t know why I always let you two talk me into playing that game. I always lost. Hetty almost always won. I still say she cheated,” she said somberly, and then cracked a smile.
Oh, how that smile made him ache to touch her. Instead, he smiled back woodenly as to not give away his feelings. “Yeah, well, she certainly changed the rules. Did you know you’re only supposed to go around twice, auctioning off the properties as you go?”
“No! Really?” Dottie looked shocked.
“Yeah,” he continued awkwardly. “I actually sat down and read the directions a few years ago. One of my favorite bars has a boardgame corner. I picked up the directions and read them cover to cover. In fact, I could tell you anything you want to know about Monopoly,” his face filled with braggadocio.
“Huh,” she sighed and sat back.
“I know, right?” He shrugged, “But that’s what you get taking the rules from Hetty!” he relented, laughing.
With her beside him, he relaxed. Then as if the swing were on fire, he jumped up. “What are you doing here, Dottie?”
“I, uh…” she stood up and held up the containers. “Hetty said I should bring you food to apologize for throwing Christmas decorations on you.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“It’s chili. And gingerbread cookies,” she smiled standing up and playfully shaking the containers at him. “I think chili is still your favorite,” then her smile faded as she mentioned matter-of-factly, “I don’t know much about you these days, but I know you always liked my mom’s recipe. You could never get enough when we had it at my house when we were kids. Always sitting next to me and asking for more.”
He could feel the heat of embarrassment rising in his face. Joe did like the chili, but he liked being close to Dottie more. That was why he was always staying for dinner, especially on chili night. Turning away so she couldn’t see his face turning red, he started inside, “
Thanks, uh, let's put them in the kitchen.” He went to the door and she hopped up and started after him. “And the wreaths, well, I’ve been hit by enough wild pitches, a pile of wreaths is nothing.” He held the door for her, still trying to hide his face. It would give everything away, and neither of them was in a place to rehash their feelings. Especially if she was with someone. He noticed there was no ring on his finger, but last he heard. Dottie was still with Harold.
“Harold says to say hello,” she said bringing up his arch nemesis as if on cue.
“Oh really? That’s nice,” he feigned cheerfulness. “So how is old Harold these days?”
“He’s fine,” she weightily sighed. “Working for a small marketing company, and he’s applying for a few firms in New York,” she reported woodenly.
“Ah, he always was good at selling,” Joe said making a joke to himself. “So, have you two…. tied the knot, yet?” He turned back to her and motioned for her to enter the house as he held the door for her.
“No,” Dottie found herself replying much too quickly. “Timing just hasn’t ever been right. And with my parents in Florida after my father’s stroke, and me at the museum, we just… haven’t,” Dottie found herself trying to explain everything to Joe and she didn’t know why.
“Watch your step,” he said as they walked past where he had been painting. “I’ve just started in here. I did the hallway and the dining room earlier, but I need to tackle the front room.”
“Wow, Joe Thomas, big time baseball star is now his own labor force,” she said slightly teasing as she walked past him and put the chili in the fridge.
“Someone has to do it, and ‘labor is good for the soul’ my father always used to say,” he said walking to the counter and getting another coffee mug, “Coffee?” he asked holding up the cup indicating like an idiot. “it’s not your signature cocoa, but—.”
“Sure,” she said taking the lid off the cookies on the counter and feeling the bridge between them rebuilding. “Cookie?” she held out the container, but quickly pulled it away. “Or are you ‘not doing carbs in the off season,’ she said lowering her voice trying to sound like him.
“Ha,” he said filling both cups, “You’ve been talking to Hetty,” he said handing her the cup. “Are those your mom’s recipe, too?” he asked peeking over the top of the container.
“Sort of. It’s my grandmother’s recipe that was passed down through the family. The tradition is that you’re supposed to learn the recipe, then experiment and then adapt the recipe in your own way. I’ve added crystalized ginger chunks to these. I also bake them a little shorter time, making it so they’re extra chewy,” she said and then bit into a cookie.
“Then I will definitely try one,” he said reaching in and grabbing one that looked like a professionally iced gingerbread man. “Wow, these are beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she said with her mouth full. And then she smiled and chewed, taking the coffee from him and grabbing milk from the fridge. She looked at the carton in her hand then eyed him skeptically. “Really? All you have is Almond Milk?”
“Yeah, because—”
“No carbs in the off season,” they said together.
Smiling they both looked up and their eyes locked.
“Well, I guess it’s enough like regular milk,” Dottie finally said pouring a dollop in her coffee and quickly putting it back in the fridge. She took a sip of her chalky coffee and tried not to make a face at how disgusting she thought it was. Trying to distract herself from both the disgusting coffee and the awkwardness of this situation, Dottie walked back into the living room to look at Joe’s progress.
“You should,” Dottie tried to say breezily, “come up to the museum, sometime.”
“I’m trying to keep a low profile,” Joe responded a little too quickly. Then seeing a bit of disappointment on Dottie’s face, he cleared his throat and added, “It’s just I want to get this house fixed up, and I only have so much time before I have to get back. For the holiday. And before pitchers and catchers report.” He hoped these were answers that would satisfy her.
“So, what is the plan in here?” she changed the subject.
“Well, I’m hitting the whole house with a fresh coat of paint. Then I’ll go through the furniture to see what needs to be tossed, and what can stay to stage the house,” he said motioning at the furniture with his half cookie he had left. Then took a bite. “These are really good.”
“Thanks,” she said and blushed a little. Quickly she changed the subject. “Can I help at all?”
“You wanna paint?” he asked a little sarcastically.
“Sure, why not?” She said popping the rest of the cookie in her mouth and setting her cup down. Thank goodness. She was glad to be rid of that terribly tasting beverage. Dottie picked up a paint brush that was resting on the tray and started painting near the trim on the wall.
Standing back, he watched her paint for a few moments. Joe had always admired how Dottie just jumped into things. There was a great amount of courage she had always possessed. Before he started anything, he always thought out everything. Joe assessed and picked through all possible outcomes. He would always strategically plan out everything.
“Well, are you going to let me paint this room by myself,” she said sassily.
“You’re doing such a great job, I would hate to get in the way,” he countered.
Twisting around, Dottie took her finger and poked him in the stomach.
“Hey! What was that for?” He laughed and pulled away.
“You are still ticklish!” Dottie delighted.
“No!” he said as he twisted away, protecting his ticklish spot and sloshing his coffee.
Instinct made her reach out to help steady the cup and the paintbrush snapped back and paint flew on her face.
Joe laughed.
“What?’
“You have paint on your—Here let me get it.” He reached up and softly touched her cheek with his thumb. His hand lingered on her face for a moment before he quickly realized it had been there too long and quickly wiped his hand off on his already paint stained jeans. They remained only inches apart as the tension sizzled between them. Joe had the urge to kiss her. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she was leaning in, too. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in closer as she closed her eyes, and took in the fresh smell of her just before leaning close enough to feel her breath on his face. This was a moment he had been waiting for—
Loudly, Dottie’s cell phone bleated. They both jumped back. She fumbled in her jeans pocket and pulled out the phone.
“Harold,” she said to Joe before swiping the screen and answering, “Hi… Harold. How are—Oh, you’re at the museum waiting for—Oh, well I’m at—”
Joe took the paintbrush from her hand and started backing out of the room.
He mouthed, “Go if you need to!”
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed and wrinkled her brow. Into the phone she said, “Harold, I’ll be right there. I’m just—” She waved goodbye to Joe and walked out of the house.
Joe shook his head and muttered to himself, “And once again Harold comes in and sweeps her away from me,” he grumbled. Painting could wait. Joe deposited his cup in the kitchen and grabbed his jacket before going outside to the woodpile where he could take out some frustration on splitting logs.
Chapter Six
“You almost kissed him?” Hetty said loud enough for the entire diner to hear as she was refilling Dottie’s coffee mug.
“Shhhh!!!” Dottie warned as she gazed around the diner. Apparently Hetty wasn’t as loud as she thought, or everyone was used to it because no one was looking over. Still, Dottie’s face blazed crimson. “That isn’t what I said,” Dottie said emphatically in a low volume. “I said I think we were close to kissing.”
“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” Hetty prodded as she turned to put the coffee pot back on the warmer.
“NO! It’s NOT good,” Dottie exclaimed. Then returning to her low volu
me and speaking pointedly, “We both have fiancées!”
“Well, technically, you don’t unless Harold suddenly proposed.”
“He didn't. You know I would tell you if that happened,” Dottie replied.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Hetty thought aloud. “I know the tabloids say he’s with that reality star turned model, Heather Smolen.” Hetty’s thought drifted. She then snapped her fingers and said knowingly, “But she doesn’t seem Joe’s type. Besides, why would Joe have tried to kiss you if he was with someone? And you also said the other night after you left Joe’s house and went to the museum, Harold said he had a big question he was going to ask you soon.” Hetty’s voice raised to an excited squeal.
“I know,” Dottie said downtrodden not echoing Hetty’s excitement. Why was she not as excited as Hetty was about what Harold wanted to ask? Wasn’t this what she wanted? “I guess I’m just more focused on keeping the museum alive,” Dottie said answering her own question. But that didn’t seem right to her either.
“Well,” Hetty said as she leaned over and took a cookie from the tin that Dottie brought and took a bite, “it seems to me like there is something brewing, and I’m not the only one that thinks so. Those two gossips,” she nodded her head over to the table where Frank and Murray were chatting with their heads close together. Every once in a while, they would look up and over at Dottie. “They’re planning something, and I don’t think it’s the year they’re planning to do matching Christmas displays on their houses.”
Dottie looked over at them. “Maybe they’re hatching a plan to save the museum,” Dottie said feigning hope.
“I don’t think so. Those two are worse than two little old ladies when it comes to matchmaking in this town. You know how they got me and Don together? They convinced him to come and help fix my kitchen plumbing. My husband had never touched a wrench before setting foot in my house to help Frankincense and Myrrh fix my plumbing. Next thing you know, we’re walking down the aisle,” Hetty said taking another cookie. “These are fantastic. What did you do differently this year?”