by Ann Evans
Just past the high chain-link fence, Coach Williams and the Cardinal team were huddled in discussion. She waited until they finished, then called the coach over. Petey reached her first, pressing against the fence as if he could push his way through it. He looked at her wildly.
“Mom…don’t,” he said in strained undertones.
“Petey, it’s all right,” Jenna said. “Go sit down.”
He didn’t obey, but by that time Coach Williams had reached the fence. He looked a little surprised to see her, and she nodded pleasantly at him.
“Hi, Mrs. Rawlins,” he said. He grimaced over at the scoreboard. “Not too good, huh? But if the rain holds off, we might wipe the smiles off those Tiger faces yet. What can I do for you?”
She was about to speak when she noticed that the number-one player on the team had crossed to the fence to stand beside Petey. He was one of the kids in the Bear Hollow neighborhood that Jenna disliked—a snotty little carrot top with lashes so pale they reminded her of wood lice. He thought he was better than everyone else, which would have been a lot less annoying if it hadn’t been the truth.
“What’sa matter, Petey-poop?” he taunted her son. “Did your Momma come over here to find out why you ain’t come up to bat yet?”
Petey ignored him, although he looked pale and worried.
The other boy made crying-baby sounds, obviously determined to get a rise out of Petey.
Jenna wanted to shake the little brat until his teeth rattled. She settled on giving him the sternest “mom” look she had. The kid gave her a nervous glance and then galloped back to the other boys.
In that moment Jenna realized that her father and brothers might be right. There were better ways to handle this than charging in like a lioness defending her cub. And maybe Coach Williams did have to get tougher with the boys than any mother would have liked. This was a guy’s arena, a sacred world that only males understood and appreciated.
“Coach Williams,” Jenna began, sensing Petey’s tension even through the fence, “I was wondering if you’d like to come for dinner next week.”
“Dinner?”
It occurred to her suddenly that the coach was a divorced man. He might think she was making a play for him. “With my father and the boys,” she amended quickly. “We could talk about the last of the fall fund-raisers.” She looked down at her son and gave him a smile meant to reassure. “And Petey isn’t certain he should continue with ball next spring. Maybe you could give us your feedback.”
“Sure,” the coach replied. “Thanks for the invite.”
“I’ll give you a call.”
He walked back to the dugout, yelling at the boys to quit fooling around and get their equipment back on. The rain was letting up again and they needed to hit the field. She put a finger through the fence and flicked Petey on the nose. He looked so relieved that she hadn’t challenged Coach Williams’s methods that it was almost comical. “I thought about our conversation this morning. When it comes to you guys and sports, I guess moms don’t always know the best way to handle things.”
Petey nodded. “Grampa said you didn’t understand ’cause you’re a woman, and women get sports about as much as monkeys get table manners.”
Jenna frowned. “I may have to have a talk with your grandfather about some of the words of wisdom he’s teaching you boys.”
Petey glanced back over his shoulder. “I gotta go.”
“Okay. Go get ’em, tiger.”
“Mo-om,” Petey complained with rolled eyes. “Don’t use that word.” He pointed at the other team, where the boys were slapping one another’s rear ends and giving high fives. “That’s them.”
“Oh, sorry. Well, go out there and…beat ’em to a pulp.”
“Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.” He brightened suddenly. “But I got a new stance, and I’m gonna use it, even if Coach doesn’t want me to. Can’t hurt, huh?”
“Not a bit,” she agreed.
She went back to the stands. Her father and J.D. were huddled under their rain gear playing cards on the seat between them. Christopher and Trent were talking about last week’s football game. They all gave her questioning glances.
She scowled at them. “Don’t look at me that way. I didn’t do it.”
Her father poked his head out of his slicker like a turtle coming up for air. “You didn’t give him what-for?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, enunciating every word. “The timing wasn’t right, and you…you guys may have a point. As a woman, I may not understand all the nuances.”
“You mean, you think we’re right?” Trent asked, sounding incredulous.
“I suppose it can happen once in a while.”
They all laughed, even Jenna, and the day got a little better after that. Petey had had one disastrous turn at bat, but maybe he’d improve the next time he was up. She watched J.D. and Trent build a temple out of peanut shells. Her father and Christopher discussed the team’s capabilities as if comparing Major League stats. The conversation rolled over and around her, and gradually a lump formed in her throat.
Mark had been right that night at Pepino’s. A family that loved you was better than almost anything. They were here for the boys. They were trying to ease up on running her life. Now she needed to ease up a little on them.
Down at the bottom of the stairs, a guy was selling hot dogs. J.D. and Trent were always up for that, and her brother sent J.D. down the stairs with a handful of dollar bills.
Jenna saw her opportunity and took it.
She turned on the bench, looking toward her brothers and father. “Fellows…,” she began, not knowing what exactly she wanted to say, but determined to get it out. “I just want to tell you that I know you mean well. I know you want what’s best for me, and I love you for it. Between this new baby and a new house, I’m going to need all the family support I can get, and I’m sorry if I’ve been bitchy. My body’s changing, my whole life is changing, and frankly, as much as I’m looking forward to it, I’m scared to death.”
There was a moment or two of silence. They looked stunned. Then male protests of understanding tumbled from their mouths, though they probably didn’t understand a thing. Christopher looked embarrassed. Her father took her hand. Trent scratched his head and asked what they had done.
Her father gave her a narrowed glance. “You gonna marry that newspaper fellow?”
It was her turn to be at a loss for words. At last she said honestly, “I don’t know. What would you all think if I did?”
“I don’t like things changing,” her father said, “but I guess he’d do. Especially if he made you happy. You’ve been as contrary as a handful of coat hangers lately.”
“Is he more than just the guy Petey and J.D. called out of the blue?” Christopher asked her in low tones.
He knew. From the looks on their faces, they all did. “Yes,” she admitted. “How did you know he’s the father? And please don’t tell me you did some new kind of DNA testing to find out. I’ll murder you.”
Christopher laughed and shook his head. “I admit we aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed when it comes to reading you. But we talked about it up at the cabin, and all three of us said we’d never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him. You’re in love. You ought to see yourself, sis.”
She cringed and covered her face with one hand. “Don’t say that. I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. It’s very confusing.”
“Doesn’t seem confusing,” Trent said.
“It doesn’t to me, either,” her father agreed. “If you love each other, you ought to be making plans. You don’t have forever, you know. He ought to be making an honest woman out of you. In my day—”
“Stop,” she admonished them all. “Here comes J.D.”
She was glad to see J.D. return with an armload of hot dogs. She couldn’t have discussed this topic with them if her life had depended on it. Especially when she didn’t have any concrete answers.
Ten minut
es later it was Petey’s turn at bat. Jenna could feel the entire family tense, even J.D.
Sure enough, Petey swung wildly at the first ball. Jenna’s heart sank.
Strike one.
He repositioned himself over the plate, ignoring the cat-calls from the other team. There was a man on first, but Petey wasn’t likely to bring him home, much less himself. He swung again, but he wasn’t even close.
Strike two.
Jenna’s heart took a deeper dive. It was heartbreaking to witness this. And heartbreaking to realize there was absolutely nothing she could do.
He never looked up into the stands, but she watched his shoulders pull back. In spite of his earlier attitude of defeat, he was going to tough it out. He really was a brave little soldier, Jenna thought, her heart breaking for him. He leaned over the plate, his feet shifting as he planted himself in a different position, letting one of his elbows drop slightly.
Beside her, her father said under his breath, “Oh, no, Petey-boy. Don’t try anything new. Stick with what you know.”
In another moment, her son would be called out. Jenna tried to get her game face ready. Pretend it doesn’t matter.
The pitcher threw the ball. Petey leaned in and, by some miraculous twist of fate, some bizarre accident, his bat actually connected with the ball. It wasn’t a powerful hit. Not enough to send anyone zooming across home plate, but it rolled decently into right field. The Tiger fielder hadn’t been paying attention. It bounced past him, and it was a good five seconds before anyone got on the ball. By that time, Petey had made first base.
The entire family stared, mouths open. Then they went wild.
Trent whooped like a crazy man.
“Gosh, he really hit it!” J.D. said.
“Where did he learn that?” Christopher asked Jenna.
“Who cares?” her father answered for her. “He hit the damned thing!”
Jenna shook her head in disbelief. It hadn’t been a homer. It hadn’t been anywhere close to that. But her son, the absolute-worst player on the team, had finally hit something.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. She waved excitedly at Petey, who was jumping up and down at first base. “He said he’s been practicing a new stance.”
“Petey got it from him,” J.D. told them. He pointed. “They practiced.”
They all followed the direction of J.D.’s finger. A man stood on the sidelines. One hand curled into the chain-link fence, and the other waved at Petey. Jenna couldn’t see his face, but she would have recognized those jean-clad hips anywhere.
“Mark?” she whispered.
For the second time in less than a minute Jenna was stunned into silence. She stared at the figure until her eyes watered. She watched him make an okay sign with thumb and forefinger, and when she glanced back at Petey, she saw him nod in excitement.
“When did he teach Petey that?” Jenna asked J.D without looking at him.
“When you were in bed ’cause of what the doctor said.” Her son looked at her solemnly. “But he’s no good in soccer. He said so. And he can’t kick nothin’ even though we tried and tried. But he came today. I knew he would.”
The game progressed. There was no way the Cardinals could win of course, but Petey made it home when a teammate whacked the ball right out of the park. As delighted as she was for her son, Jenna barely noticed what went on. She couldn’t take her eyes off Mark, who never once looked into the stands or moved away from the fence.
It ended shortly after Petey’s unexpected triumph. Fifteen to three. The Tigers were disgustingly smug about the win. Coach Williams huddled the boys together afterward for a pep talk, while everyone in the stands gathered raincoats and headed down the stairs.
Jenna stood up, discovering that her knees were slightly wobbly. Not because of all that time sitting, but because of Mark.
Mark, who had come here to see Petey. Who had helped her son with an achievement he’d never have accomplished on his own.
She didn’t believe Mark had done it deliberately to impress her, to win her over. It came from a deep well of kindness in him, a compassionate decency that was as much a part of him as that wonderful bone structure and dark eyes. Whatever childhood memories still plagued him, whatever his parents had or hadn’t been for him, they hadn’t been able to crush that. They just hadn’t.
A lot of things became clear to her in that moment, as though a moving blur had suddenly been caught in a clean, sharp snapshot.
She really did love him.
All the words, cries, arguments beating their wings within her suddenly went still. No matter what the future held, no matter what stood in the way of happiness, she wanted Mark in her life.
Maybe there would never be a declaration of undying love. Maybe bringing two growing boys and a new baby into his life would stretch his capabilities to the limit. But she didn’t doubt him anymore. She knew he could do it. And she would help him. She’d show him the way.
Because Mark Bishop was a man worth fighting for.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALONE AT THE FENCE, Mark watched Pete Rawlins charge toward him. Most of the boys looked dejected about the loss, but Pete’s face glowed with excitement. His hair stuck up every which way, spiky with sweat.
“Did you see me?” he crowed. “I did it just like you said. And it worked!”
“I didn’t miss a thing,” Mark said, grinning broadly. For years he’d almost always felt uncomfortable around children, but this kid and his brother were different somehow. “You nailed it, Pete. I’m really proud of you.”
The boy was jumping in place. He swung around, spotted his family in the crowd and ran toward them, nearly losing his balance on the rain-slick grass. “Uncle Christopher, did you see me? What did you think, Grampa?”
Mark watched the family close around Pete, full of congratulations and praise. Ordinarily that kind of folksy scene set his teeth on edge, but he found himself smiling again as the McNabs eventually came toward him. They were smiling, too, even Christopher, the cop, who Mark suspected would prefer to see him locked up for daring to date Jenna.
He realized suddenly that he didn’t give a damn whether they welcomed his presence in their world. It was Jenna he wanted to see, Jenna he’d been waiting to catch a glimpse of in the crowd. And when she shifted and stepped slightly away from that overprotective clutch of males, he finally found her.
She moved through a slant of afternoon sunlight, and in a rush it all came back, how it felt to hold her, how her lips tasted. His pulse ran with fire. God, less than a week, and he’d missed her so much!
Staying away had been difficult. A time of dreary responsibilities and manufactured duties. One day after the other, night into day, until they’d all become the same to him, all without meaning. Even if Pete and J.D. hadn’t called, he knew he’d have come here today. Just to see how Pete did. Just to make sure the boy remembered what they’d practiced. But his motives, so clear at first, had become muddled somewhere along the line.
The truth was, he felt as though all the good parts of his life had been ripped away. The old complaisance wasn’t a comfort any longer, because life had turned ugly on him. He would never have guessed it could be that way, but everything before Jenna felt mean and bleak and not worth remembering.
The McNabs reached his side. Jenna smiled at him, her sensuous mouth hinting at any number of possibilities. Her face was alive with joy and intelligence, and he could see gratitude shining in her eyes. The misty rain had planted tiny diamonds in her hair, and he thought again how pretty it was. Just looking at her, he found that an amazing array of fantasies were playing in his mind, some of them shocking in their boldness. He was beginning to wonder if he was addicted to her.
The men exchanged handshakes, unfailingly polite, and yet he couldn’t lose the feeling that they were looking at him differently. They were not necessarily hostile, but sizing him up all over again.
Christopher McNab had corralled Petey against him with one arm around
his chest—a possessive gesture Mark couldn’t miss. “So you’ve been coaching Petey?”
No antagonism in the question, but Mark knew he had to tread lightly. He gave the man a level look. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try something different.”
“I’ve been working a long time to get his game up.”
“He told me how much you’ve helped him.”
Something subtle changed in Christopher’s face. Abruptly he grinned. “A fresh set of eyes is probably just what he needed.”
The awkwardness of the moment ended as William McNab enthusiastically entered the conversation. “I say we all celebrate with ice cream. What do you say, boys?”
Not surprisingly, that idea was met with a chorus of agreement.
Jenna, however, frowned and shook her head. “I promised my real-estate agent I’d return the keys to that house to her before she leaves the office.” She glanced at her watch. “We only have thirty minutes to get across town.”
The boys made sounds of disappointment, and Mark found himself saying, “I could take you by her office, then drop you at your house. No sense cheating the kids out of ice cream.”
“Or Trent,” Jenna’s father said with a teasing glance at his younger son.
“I wouldn’t want to take you out of your way,” Jenna said hesitantly.
“It’s not out of my way at all.”
“Go ahead, Jen,” Christopher said. “We’ll look after the boys.”
A few minutes later Mark had Jenna settled into the front seat of his car. She gave him the directions to her agent’s office, and he pulled into the late-afternoon Atlanta traffic.
Neither spoke for a while. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t as companionable as Mark might have wished, either. Jenna seemed friendly, glad to see and be with him, and yet he sensed some sort of barrier. Nothing he could put his finger on, but it felt as though they’d lost the intimacy they’d gained during the two days he’d spent in her home.