by Caryl McAdoo
He shrugged. “If you’ll promise to pray for me.”
“Sure.” Ah, a chink in his armor. Was he getting pre-game jitters? “If you pitch like you did in Mexico, the Angels won’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah, right. That bunch of slap hitters can’t hold a candle to LA. I’m serious. Will you pray for me?”
“Okay, yes, fine. Will three Our Fathers and two Hail Marys do? Think that will get a W?”
Gij waved her off. So she was Catholic. That explained a lot. He watched her sashay up the walk. She turned at the door and threw him a kiss, waved, then disappeared inside.
He looked skyward. Really, Lord? A lapsed Catholic?
After stopping at the market on the way home, he busied himself getting things ready for dinner that night. It didn’t take long enough. He still had four hours before he needed to leave for the ballpark. He tried reading, but kept reading the same paragraph over and over.
Visions of the west coast monsters kept crowding their way into his mind’s eye.
He focused on Samantha Danielle. Man, he sure loved that name way better than Sammi Dan. Maybe he’d call her, but all she’d want to talk about would be the game and the Angels’ murders’ row. How could he get those guys out?
“Stop it, old son.” He laughed at himself. It proved way worse than the hours before the World Series of Poker final table. Then it dawned on him what he’d done before that WSP game. Taking the stairs two at a time, he retreated to his room and fell to his knees.
“Help me, Lord. Give me strength. Guide my pitches just as You did the stones David hurled at his giant.”
Soon a peace settled over his soul.
CHAPTER
four
While her new boss prattled on, Sammi Dan debated with herself whether she should ask him if he knew about Gij’s contract. In the end though, she chickened out. No matter their reason, the station offered the comfort of familiarity and moved her into sportscasting—her dream job—so no need to fuss. All was good.
Maybe she didn’t really want to know the truth of it.
He nodded toward April then faced Sammi Dan. “You got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, grab some lunch and get on down to the ballpark early. Beside Johnson’s, try to set some pre-game interviews; maybe a fan or two, you know. Something I can use at six if I need some filler.”
April jumped to her feet as though her job depended on speed. Sammi Dan eased to a standing position and threw Joe a weak smile. He knew. She was sure of it now, and he’d be sorry if everything went right. She’d have…no, she stopped that train before it left the station. Who wanted his job anyway?
Or to even be vindictive toward the sports anchor? He’d been the one to put in a good word for her in the first place.
“Where you want to eat?”
Sammi Dan focused on her producer. “How about you follow me to my apartment then give me a ride to the ballpark, and I’ll buy lunch on the way.” She held out the papers Joe gave her to April.
“Well, if you’re buying, there’s a great Italian place on the way.”
The peace Gij found followed him to the ballpark, through the pre-game meetings, on to the bullpen, then to his final warm-up pitches on the ten inches of staked, manicured dirt that countless pitchers had stood on before.
Then it hit him. He was about to pitch in a Major League Baseball game for the team he and Pappaw had followed all the old man’s life.
From the first ugly days in the old refurbished AAA stadium, all the way to one heartbreaking strike away from winning the Series. What was he doing walking out onto the field, much less onto the mound? The mound! He should be on third, but no way was he even in Beltre’s league. That man was clearly Hall material.
Blue pointed at him. “Play ball.”
Who was this first batter? How did they want him to pitch him? Carlos held one finger down. It tickled Gij that the man had painted his nails neon pink. Fastball, inside. Okay, he could do that.
Help me, Lord.
Four pitches—what, a quarter inch inside?—later, and the man stood on first. Well, forget perfection.
Help me, Lord.
Twenty-two up, twenty-one down. He’d made it through seven innings without giving up anything but the walk. However, the Rangers had managed only five hits, all singles. Zeros filled the giant scoreboard, no runs. Did it have to be so hard? Would a nice ten, no, fifteen- run lead be too much to ask?
The first batter in the eighth walked to the box and took a couple of practice swings. Albert Pujols chased two low pitches then caught up to a high hard one and sent a flare to left field. Why did it have to be Big Al? Okay, the old man owed him.
He stepped off the mound and looked skyward. “Thank you, Lord, for putting fire in this right arm. Guide me. Be with me. Find pleasure in me, Your creation.”
He twisted a bit further back and willed the ball to fly straight into Carlos’ mitt. It did. Nine times in a row, one after another, and the crowds went wild. Seemed each pitch flew faster. Its hum and slap into the catcher’s mitt sounded louder. The cheers grew more deafening with each strikeout.
Nine more followed in the ninth, but still no Ranger runs decorated the board.
Would Jeff let him go the tenth? He hadn’t thought to put that in his contract.
In the bottom of the ninth, Martin dragged the second pitch down the line and beat the ball to the bag. On the second pitch, he took off. Elvis slapped a grounder to second who flung it to first, but the speedy centerfielder didn’t even stop until he reached third. One on, one out.
Odor drove the third pitch he saw high into the centerfield sky. The whole team crowded the rail. Martin tagged and beat the throw by half a step. Classic get ’em-on-get ’em-over-get ’em-in baseball. Gij loved it. His first win, first shutout. Seventh straight if you counted the games in Mexico.
Amidst the crowd’s roar and a bunch of grown men acting like kids, he looked skyward.
“Thank you, Father.”
“This is Samantha Davenport reporting live from Globe Life Park in Arlington. Back to you, Joe.” She waited until April turned the camera off then grinned at her new number-one guy. “That was some game! I’ve never!” She shook her head. “It was just phenomenal, Gij. Even the old geezers in the press box were going bonkers. All they could talk about was the second coming of Walter Johnson.”
“I liked it. All but the walk and Big Al’s dying quail.” He backed away a step. “I’ll meet you in the press room, say twenty minutes or so.”
“Good, I can be ready then.” Once he disappeared into the locker room, she followed April down the hall. “When and where tomorrow?”
“Office, after breakfast?” Her producer grinned. “Joe sure is pumped about our man. He wants you to ask for an interview at George’s home. Wants us to think along human interest, something that can transcend sports.”
Our man? Gij was not hers, not in any way. The whole reason he put names into his contract was to get to know Sammi Dan better, not April. Her friend needed to know that, get it firmly into her head. “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll talk to him about it. See what he thinks.”
April stopped short of the door, looked around, then leaned in close. “Joe asked me if something kinky was going on with the three of us.”
“Sau-er-kraut! He did not.”
“Yes, he sure did.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Before or after I slapped him through the phone?”
Sammi Dan laughed. “No really, what’d you tell him?”
“I told him no, of course. That something like that would never happen, and to get his dirty old mind out of the gutter.”
“Well, I can see why he might think something weird was going on. Popsicles, Gij - George did name us in his contract.”
“He did?” Pure, unadulterated amazement etched her face. She truly didn’t know. If she hadn’t heard, maybe Mister Yancy and Joe were innocent, too. “Both of u
s? By name? I figured he might have named you. I mean no other reporter has even been close to the man, and that’s just not normal.” She shook her head, then grinned. “And what did you start to call him just now?”
The lie died on Sammi Dan’s lips. She didn’t want anything to come between her and April—not as long as the camera girl kept her place—especially seeing as how Gij had practically joined her at the hip to the woman. “He told me to call him a pet name when it was just us, but not when anyone else was around. I think it’s some superstition he’s got.”
“Really? So, then, you two are…” She forced Sammi Dan out to the edge of the diving board and gave her the come-on-spill-your-guts twirling hand motion.
She jumped. “Courting.”
The girl wrinkled her top lip and nose a bit. “Say what?”
“That’s what he calls it” She rolled her eyes. “Courting. Really. You know, like in a Jane Austen novel. Says he wants to get to know me better, but don’t worry.” She smiled and winked. “We’re not to the calling my father part yet. Per George—except he doesn’t like George, G.H. is better.”
There. The cat was out of the bag, and April knew that it was Sammi Dan and only Sammi Dan whom Gij wanted to get to know better. The confession relieved her and satisfied the green monster inside in one fell swoop. Her producer should keep her distance now…if she ever thought of being interested in the pitcher.
Sammi Dan’s beau came as promised and whisked her off in his oversized truck. Being with him, just in his presence, calmed her so. “I’m starving, Where are we going to eat?”
“My place. I’ve got steaks marinating.”
“Well, how about you!” She leaned back. This was great. She couldn’t have planned a way to get into his house any better. It’d be the perfect place to bring up that human interest angle. “Want me to cut up a salad while you’re cooking them?”
“Sure, that’d be fine.”
After a few minutes, he pulled off the interstate at Beltline Road, turned north, drove past the Lone Star Park horseracing track, then went east on Hunter Ferrell Road. After a sweeping curve, he slowed down and made a right onto a gravel drive. Johnson grass and sunflowers grew as high as the truck on both sides with dark, heavy vines beneath the untrimmed bordering trees.
He lived down there?
A clicker pointed at the metal pole gates swung them open, and he pulled through. For a hundred yards or so, the gravel road, well, barely a trail, wound through what appeared to be a jungle. Right there in the middle of the Metroplex! Interstate 30 couldn’t be more than a couple of miles south, yet it seemed he’d taken her to the country.
After a couple of twists, a huge two-story house that sat in the midst of a manicured half acre or so surrounded by forest came into view. “Wow, who would have thunk it?”
He laughed. “Thank you. I built if for my Pappaw.”
Pulling to the east side, he parked the truck in a triple garage then hurried around, opened her door, and helped her out. She could sure get used to this. She loved the way he treated her like a lady, and who didn’t appreciate the trappings of wealth? He led her down a hall to a grand two-story-high room.
A rock and brick fireplace filled the entire wall on the far end with a double wide staircase that bent around and over it to a railed hall upstairs, looked something like a Colorado hunting lodge. She loved it, but it definitely needed a woman’s touch. The place reeked of testosterone. At least no moose heads hung on the walls.
“Wow, again, or should it be a double wow? I love it.”
“Thank you. Took us almost a year to build it.” He nodded toward to his left. “Come on, kitchen’s this way if you want to help. Or you could just keep me company.”
The great room connected with a gorgeous, spacious kitchen that opened into a windowed, octagon breakfast nook at the far end. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you drove us three hours out into the country. How did you ever find this place?”
“Grew up here, but I’ve added a lot of acreage. Sit there.” He pointed toward the end chair.
Once she sat, he flipped a switch and the outside lit up revealing a terraced landscape with a stone path that led down to either a rather large creek or pond. She couldn’t see the ends. Soft lights shone up into several trees and also illuminated a lovely water feature on the far edge of the pond.
She could hardly take it all in. “Gij, this is simply fantastic. Did you do all this, too?”
“Some, but Pappaw did most of it. We designed it together. The house sits over what used to be an old gravel pit.”
“Really? No one would ever know.”
He set a cutting board, knife, and salad makings in front of her then hustled back to the stove where he already had two cast iron skillets. Onions and tomatoes, and she wasn’t sure what all else, maybe bell peppers, were piled high in one, and the other one started sizzling when he moved the steaks into it from the marinade.
“Joe asked April to ask me to ask you if we could shoot some footage here, at your place. He’s thinking for more of a human interest story, something that transcends sports.”
“We might work something out, there would be conditions.”
“Of course.” She grinned. “Who didn’t know that?”
“How do you like your beef?”
“Medium rare.”
“Perfect, my kind of woman. Never understood why anyone would want to cook all the juices and flavor out of a piece of meat.”
Her chopping and him at the stove made for a sweet time. She couldn’t believe the peace there—almost palpable. He brought over two individual salad bowls and the ranch dressing, and she filled them both. Shortly, he set a plate in front of her filled with a nice, inch-thick ribeye surrounded with sautéed veggies and a small baked potato.
A delicious dinner! He’d even fried her a jalapeno pepper.
She forced herself to stop before she wanted. “That was the best meal I’ve had in I don’t know how long. Just excellent!”
“Why, thank you, ma’am.” He stood and picked up her plate. “I got you a bottle of wine, want a glass?”
“How thoughtful of you. I’d love one.” She stood and helped clear the table then tidied the kitchen, even though he hadn’t made much of a mess. In no time, he ushered her back into the grand room and pulled out a remote. At the push of a button, a wide screen TV popped up out of what she thought was only an antique buffet.
He nodded toward the sofa. “I recorded the game and our interviews. Want to watch?”
She took a sip of wine. Whipped cream! He’d gone and bought her the good stuff. “Of course, but first I want to know all the rules.” She curled her feet under her and took the corner cushion.
He slipped into the far side and smiled. “What rules?”
Indeed. She had no doubt he knew exactly what she was talking about, but she’d play his little game. “Your rules, Jethro. Except I don’t actually need all of them right now, just your courting do’s and don’ts will suffice for the time being. And I know just where you could start. What’s allowed?”
“Good question, but I don’t know. I’ve never courted anyone before.”
Was this guy for real?
“Well, of course you haven’t.” She ducked her head and threw him a curve glance. “What about dating? Have you dated anyone? Ever? Please tell me you have.”
He grinned and nodded. “Some. Went steady in junior high, but she broke my heart. I went to a few dances in high school, then at Texas…I…well…” His grin disappeared, and he grimaced. “Let’s just say that I didn’t much care for that whole scene.”
She let his proclamation sink in. More uncomfortable by the minute, she wished she’d never brought the subject up. What would he do if he ever discovered her past? Find out that she’d lived right in the big middle of that whole scene hooting and hollering her whole four years of college.
Could good guys like him be for real?
“You’re such a contradiction,
Gij. I mean, you were living in Sin City. What about those days? Didn’t anyone tell you what happens in Vegas –”
“Stays in Vegas? I’ve heard it, but I have to live with myself.”
“So you didn’t do anything else but play poker there?”
He shrugged. “Not much. Came home between tournaments to be with Pappaw. During the tournaments I played, I focused on the game.”
She took a sip then held the glass out and studied the sweet nectar. “Do you drink alcohol? Any kind?”
“No, ma’am.”
She waited for him to elaborate giving him a duh-why-not look.
“I have a question for you.”
Here it came. Should she lie? If she didn’t, her time with this very different man might end abruptly. He would probably be able to tell if she did, though. “Sure.” Her voice cracked, she cleared her throat. “I mean that’s only fair. What is it?”
“Have you referred to me as Gij to anyone else?”
Whew. “Almost did, but caught myself. No.” The boulder sitting on her chest that kept her from inhaling burst into air bubbles, and she took a deep breath. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Tells me you’re a promise keeper.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“So if I tell you something in confidence, it will stay between us, right? Even if it might mean a good story?”
Okay, she liked moving away from the subject of wild scenes and the possibility of his exposure to her truth. Tartar sauce! The man was about to spill his guts. Had she ever had a guy do that before? “Yes, Gij, I can keep a secret—er, uh—a promise. Either one.”
He looked hard at her, stared into her eyes, and she stared right back. She knew how to play that game, played it a lot back in the day, and she was good at it, too. But the longer she held his gaze, the more it became apparent that it was no game at all. It was for real.
The man had gone searching deep into her soul, probing into the cavernous places she never let anyone go. She suddenly wanted to look away. She had to. This was not good. But she couldn’t. Her heart wept, and he could obviously see it all clearly. What was he doing to her? How could he draw her into himself like that?