by Sara Daniell
Under the Owl Tree
Copyright © 2017 Sara Daniell
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by H2O
an imprint of BHC Press
Library of Congress Control Number:
2017933237
Print edition ISBN numbers:
ISBN-13: 978-1-946006-61-5
ISBN-10: 1-946006-61-0
Visit the author at:
www.saradaniell.com &
www.bhcpress.com
also available in trade softcover
Book design
by Blue Harvest Creative
www.blueharvestcreative.com
Edited by Hannah Loomis
Back cover and title page photography
by Nikki Thatcher
Back cover and title page models
Erica Degarmo and Caleb Holleman
To the really cool guy at Zaza’s pizza
who allowed the model for Zach to go behind the
counter, and threw flour on him.
And of course, to my husband and kids
who continually support me, and understand
when I recluse to my dungeon to write.
You three are my favorite, and I love you dearly.
“The owl is believed to be a sacred
guardian of the afterlife,
ruler of the night, a seer and keeper
of souls transitioning
from one plane of existence to another.”
~ Anonymous ~
I finished unpacking the last box when Dad walked into the room. I put a few framed pictures of the team and me from back home on the computer desk. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiled at a picture of the guys.
Dad sat down on the bed and looked around. “Looks great in here, kiddo. You like the new house?”
I nodded and took a small box of crafting supplies out of the desk drawer. I put a few push-pins in the wall above the computer and hung up a string of clear lights. After I plugged them in, I stepped back and put my hands on my hips.
“There, now it feels like home,” I said, admiring my new room.
“What do you say we go eat some pizza? Your mother and I don’t feel like cooking. It’s been a long day of unpacking.”
“Really? Pizza? Are you sick?” I reached up and felt his forehead.
He laughed. “A cheat meal is in order tonight.”
My eyes lit up, and my mouth watered for the greasy goodness. Living in a house of health and fitness nuts was extremely annoying sometimes.
“I’ll go pull up my hair and put on some shoes!”
He stood and kissed the top of my head before walking out of the room.
After getting ready, I left my room and followed my parents out to Mom’s car. I spent the entire car ride trying to get a good feel for Stockbridge, Georgia. The town lacked a beachfront like Gulfport. I missed the salty air already, and the closest beach was more than four hours away. I sat back in the seat and started responding to texts from friends, telling them how crappy this place was so far.
THE PIZZA PLACE was packed. I took the baseball cap that I had buttoned around a belt loop and put it on my head as we walked the plank of newcomers. It was like a mannequin challenge erupted as everyone in the small restaurant watched us follow our waitress to a table.
I looked at the chalkboard menu over the cash registers and cringed when Dad started pitching a fit that they had Pepsi products instead of Coke.
Mom was laughing. “Craig, calm down. And don’t you dare turn this dinner into a sales pitch!” Mom looked at me. “This is why we don’t take him in public.”
“What a great idea!” Dad’s face lit up.
I laughed when Mom face-palmed. “Here we go…”
Dad smiled when the waitress came over. “Hi there, can I speak to your manager?”
“Umm, you sure you want to?” she asked in confusion.
Dad nodded. “Positive. Your restaurant has a serious problem.”
“Alright, but Mr. Shaw isn’t exactly nice.” She walked off and headed toward the back of the restaurant.
Mom waved over another waitress and placed our order so we could at least eat while the shit-show went down.Not long after, a guy wearing a backward ballcap with dark brown hair peeking out of it came over to our table. His black apron was covered in flour, and hot damn, he was the best-looking pizza guy I had ever seen.
“If you don’t like the food here, just leave. I had two waitresses quit, and the cook is home sick.”
Dad reached up with a big smile, and shook the guy’s hand. I saw him eye up the guy’s appearance. He had diamond stud earrings in each ear and a well-trimmed beard. He looked too young and hip to own a pizza place.
“Mr. Shaw, I’m assuming?”
The guy nodded.
Dad kept a smile on his face. “Not here to complain about the food. I just see that you serve Pepsi, and that’s soft drink suicide.”
Mr. Shaw looked at each of us, then returned his irritated gaze to Dad. “Are you shittin’ me right now? I don’t have time for this.”
The waitress set our drinks down, and I took the wrapper off a straw as I watched Dad talk to him about how Coke is better than Pepsi.
“Craig, you’re clearly wasting his time. He just told you he had waitresses quit and the cook is home sick. Schedule another time if he’s even interested,” Mom said and then mouthed sorry to the manager.
I smiled and took a drink.
Mr. Shaw opened his mouth but stopped as his attention gravitated toward the door. We watched a gorgeous redhead walk in, her gaze fixed on Mr. Shaw like she was going to pounce on him right then and there.
“Shiiiiit, not tonight.” Mr. Shaw clenched his jaw.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said with a perky smile and licked her lips.
Mr. Shaw looked at Dad. “I’ll make you a deal. You get rid of her, I’ll switch to Coke,” he said quietly.
Mom and I watched as Dad’s smile grew. “Deal,” he said as he stood.
“And who are you?” Dad asked the woman as she got closer.
“Jamie, Zach’s—” she stopped speaking when Mr. Shaw rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen mumbling something about stupid people.
“His sister?” Dad asked her.
“Girlfriend.” She twirled her red hair with her index finger. “He’s just being stubborn about it right now.”
“You may want to get as far away from him as you can.”
I raised a brow at Dad. Mom covered a smile with her hand.
“And why is that?” she asked looking at Dad oddly.
Dad was a damn good businessman and one of the reasons Coke gave him the management position here in Stockbridge. People respected him. He had this way of delivering his words, whatever they may be, with such conviction that people had faith in what he was saying. I hadn’t met one person my dad encountered that didn’t want to listen to him.
“I’m his lawyer, and you don’t want to be anywhere near him right now. Of course, I can’t share details because of privacy laws, but if you don’t, you might be…
Next.” He said the last word quietly and with a little shudder.
I almost spit out my drink.
The redhead looked like she was th
inking hard. “Next to what?” she asked slowly and quietly.
Dad slowly dragged his index finger across his neck.
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “I should go.” She turned on her heels and hurried out of the restaurant.
Dad marched himself to the back with his chest puffed out.
Mom and I burst into laughter.
“I can’t believe she fell for that! She must be super smart,” I said, shaking my head in disappointment. “Wow, I feel like the females of the world were just humiliated.”
Mom laughed and nodded. “What a smarty.”
MOM AND I were finished eating, and Dad was still in the back talking. The place had thinned out, and the waitresses were starting to close the place down. The door to the restaurant opened again, and two men (one favoring Mr. Shaw), a beautiful woman in heels, and a little girl with dark, bouncy curls came in. The waitresses waved to the little girl.
Mr. Shaw came out with Dad, laughing and with the most adorable grin on his face. Even Mom nudged me in appreciation. I laughed.
Dad shook Mr. Shaw’s hand and said, “I’ll be back by in the morning to make the switch official.” Dad put his arm around my shoulders and smiled at everyone. “This is Hailey Grayson, my daughter. She will be going to school at Stockbridge High. And my wife, Julie,” he said, smiling at Mom.
Mr. Shaw ruffled the little girl’s curls when she came to stand next to him. “Nice to meet you. This beautiful monster is my niece, Millie, and her father there,” he pointed to the younger man that looked like his mini-me, “is my younger brother and the art teacher and baseball coach at the high school.”
Oh, shit. I instantly turned red. Here it comes…
Dad eagerly shook the guy’s hand. “Baseball coach?” Dad asked, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Yessir. I’m Elliot Shaw.”
“I’ve heard about you. My wife and I both researched the baseball program before I accepted the job here in Stockbridge.”
Mom smiled and shook Elliot’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
The woman in heels looked around. “You seem to be interested in baseball. Do you have a son we’re missing around here? I’m Quinn, by the way. And yes, this place is named after me. My parents started it when I was born and sold it to Zach, more like I begged him to buy it, but that’s another story.”
My cheeks turned red. No brother... Just me.
Dad was beaming.
Mr. Shaw scoffed. “Begged, pleaded, whined, now I’m stuck with this he—”
Mr. Elliot elbowed him. “Language in front of your niece.”
Mom and Dad laughed.
Mr. Elliot looked at me, and Dad nudged my side with his elbow. “Tell him, kiddo.”
“I play ball.” I smiled a little.
“Not just play, more like smokes all the boys. She got kicked off the softball team when she was twelve because she was too good. They put her on the baseball team, and she’s been a star.”
I glared at Dad. I wasn’t ready for this. Not yet. I hated when he bragged on me to complete strangers. You never knew how people would take seeing a girl pursue a man’s sport.
Quinn laughed. “But she’s so tiny!”
A deep frown formed. I hated when people doubted me.
“So was Sam, but she could hit a ball like no one’s business.” The coach looked at me. “We have tryouts next week.”
I nodded, and a real smile formed. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. We could use some fresh talent.” He held his hand out to the little girl and smiled when she took it. “Now, I should feed my little trouble. See you next week.” He nodded toward me, then looked at my parents. “It was nice meeting you all.”
Mom and Dad shook everyone’s hands again, and we left.
During the entire ride home, Dad gave me a pep talk regarding tryouts. I mostly tuned him out because I knew the fun-loving not-so-uptight Dad was fading away, and he would be going into drill sergeant mode. Baseball wasn’t just my passion; it was war. I had to be the best and nothing short of it. Dad would be sure of it.
I couldn’t shake my nerves.
“I can’t do it!” I stared at the glove and ball that were mocking me.
“Yes, you can,” Dad said as he handed me a glove and bat.
“Dad, this isn’t Boca Ciega High School. People were used to me there. They knew me and grew up with me. They accepted me.”
He placed my lucky Red Sox ballcap on my head and put both of his hands on my shoulders. “You’ve got this, kiddo.”
Mr. Elliot waved at us, then looked at his daughter who was chattering away next to him.
“I’ve told him all about you. I even had coach Ray from Boca Ciega call him.”
“Really?” I asked with a hint of a smile. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”
I walked onto the field. Coach Elliot told me take the pitcher mound, and I looked at Dad. He had been pushing for me to try out for pitcher at my old school. I stretched my arm and got it warmed up. One of the guys threw the ball toward me. I opened the glove, and when the ball hit the middle, I closed the leather around it.
Everyone got in their positions, and I held the ball, turning it slowly in my hand as I stared at the batter. I got in position, took a steadying breath, and just as I swung my arm to throw the ball, some guy whistled and another shouted something about not throwing like a girl. I stood up straight and gripped the ball tightly.
I looked at my dad. He smirked at me, and I smiled back.
Throw like a girl? I laughed to myself. Alright, I’ll throw like a damn girl.
I looked at the batter, blew gently on the ball, and wiped it on my shirt for luck. I got in position again, turning to the side and spreading my feet apart. I looked to my left and winked at the guy who whistled. I then smirked at the guy who made the “throwing like a girl” comment before turning my attention back to the batter. Game on. I wound up my arm and threw the ball so fast that the guy holding the meter next to Coach Elliot started freaking out.
I shook my hand and blew on it like I was putting out a fire. I almost took a satisfying bow but decided that would be a bit too much.
“About time we got a good pitcher,” Coach said with a smile.
AFTER AN HOUR and a half, I showed my skills in the outfield, as batter, and as pitcher. The guys who doubted me now looked at me with respect. I looked over and saw Mr. Shaw, Zach I found out his name was, leaning against the fence watching me. The coach was talking to him, but he kept his eyes on me.
The redhead who whistled at me came up to me and gave me a high five.
“I’m Dane. Sorry about the whistle; it’s the first time I’ve seen such a hot pitcher. But seriously, that was sick, dude!”
I laughed and then noticed the whole team surrounded me. It made me miss my boys from back home. The team started asking me questions about my old school and about the position I played there. I was trying my best to answer everyone but so many were talking to me at once. Thankfully, Coach blew his whistle, causing us all to look at him.
“Hey, everyone! Pizza’s here!” Coach yelled out.
We all went over and started digging in. Dad didn’t look happy about the pizza, but there wasn’t much he could say since the coach got it for us.
The day had turned out better than I thought it would. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. It felt like I knew the guys on the team my whole life.
“You seriously mooned everyone in the stands last year?” I asked Dane as I tried to stop laughing so I wouldn’t choke on the bite of pizza I had just took.
“Yeah, the guys dared me to and said if I didn’t, they’d spread a stupid rumor about me. It all happened from a bet. What were we even betting on?” Dane asked everyone. They all started trying to figure out what the bet was, but my attention turned to Coach’s brother who was walking over.
“Your dad didn’t exaggerate,” Zach said quietly next to me before walking off and heading t
oward the parking lot. I took a drink of my Gatorade and watched him get in his truck. I took my focus off him when Coach started talking to us all about positions and the upcoming season.
Dad and Mom came to stand next to me, and all the other parents came to stand with their kids. Maybe Stockbridge wouldn’t be so bad. I could tell the guys here were serious about playing ball, which was very important. Dad put his arm around me, and I smiled up at him when he kissed the top of my head.
I needed a day like today. I needed the boost of confidence to get through this move because it was difficult. Leaving my friends and the only home I had ever known was like a hard blow to the chest. But today… It felt like Stockbridge gave me a big bear hug and said, “It’s all going to be alright, kid.”
Hales, get up,” Dad said as he pulled the covers off me.
I groaned and pulled the covers back up. Dad yanked them back down again.
“Daaaaad, it’s Saturday!”
“And you need to get up, work out, and come with me to the batting cages. Coach Elliot is coming, too.”
I opened my eyes. “Why is he coming?”
“Because he wants to help teach you and go over how his team plays. You must remember, these boys have been playing together for years. You need to learn to—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. Fine.” I pulled the covers off and sat up, “I’m up.”
He pinched his nose. “Do something about that morning breath!” He burst into laughter when I shoved his shoulder.
After I got ready, I met Dad downstairs in the kitchen where Mom was sitting on the counter drinking coffee.
“Morning, Hales!” Mom hopped off the counter to hug me.
“Do I smell cinnamon rolls?” I asked as I looked toward the oven.