One and Done (Red River Romance Book 3)

by Caryl McAdoo

  Over the years, he’d helped so many people.

  He’d upped his giving to over thirty percent between his tithes and offerings and just about any good cause that came along, but the one person—the only person—who really mattered, his money couldn’t help.

  He played and replayed the scene that morning, thought about a dozen things he should have said, but in the end, gave her to the Lord. Trust God to make everything right. Have faith that He would honor Gij’s obedience to His Word.

  Stand and see the salvation of God. Nothing was too hard for Him; certainly not revealing the truth to Samantha Danielle Davenport.

  Oh, Lord, soften her heart. Bring her back to me. No, first draw her to You.

  After the third round of tears, Sammi Dan got it together. At first she thought about leaving all the clothes he’d bought her, but he’d just give them to the Salvation Army. Might as well keep them for payment of what the jerk had put her through.

  Why had he kept on and on, knowing perfectly well all along….

  She packed her new suitcase, the one he’d bought her in San Francisco. She loaded the two bags then went to carrying the extra clothes to the Caddy. Wait. Should she take the Cadillac?

  Where had he put her old car? Didn’t matter. He could have it back if he wanted. He could be the one to deal with coming to pick it up and getting her old car back to her.

  Going back in for her last trip to gather all the rest of her stuff, she spied her bridal gown. She wouldn’t take it. Wasn’t like she’d ever need it. She was through with stinkin’ men.

  If George Herman Walter Johnson wasn’t good enough to see things through, no one was.

  Maybe his Pappaw would rise from the dead and point at another weather girl. One who believed everything he wanted her to, like a Stepford Wife. One a whole lot more gullible. Virgin birth indeed!

  Right there! A prime example of how God wasn’t watching out for her. Same old story, except now, she wasn’t a kid. Now she could handle it.

  At his front gate, she stopped and the sobs came anew. How could this be happening? He knew how she’d been walked out on and what it had done to her. How could he do it to her again?

  Oh Gij.

  She lay over the steering wheel and bawled until there were no more tears. She put the top up and drove through. Once the gate closed behind her she stepped out and threw the clicker over the fence. She’d never need it again. And if it got run over, he could just buy another one.

  Back in her apartment, she had herself one last tearless cry, then put on her happy face and headed to the station. She had to get some stuff, and Mr. Yancy deserved to hear it from her; he might even want her to sign something, but what did it matter?

  Through with Gij, with baseball, she was done with it all. Forget the Rangers. They could just get someone else to interview the great George Herman Walter Johnson! She never would again!

  “But Samantha, you can’t quit.”

  Everything in her wanted to agree, let him talk her into staying on, but she couldn’t. It would mean being around him. “I’m sorry, sir, but things just didn’t work out. I’m going home to Dimple.”

  Visions of his house flooded her soul, a montage of every joy-filled moment there played across her mind’s eye. She’d thought it was home, but that wasn’t home, would never be. She was going to God’s country. Why had she called it that?

  “How about we tear up your old contract and say double the money? Joe and I’ve been talking. No doubt about it, Sammi Dan. You deserve a big raise. Never seen such a natural! You and Meadows have been getting some great stuff together, girl. Don’t throw it all away over a silly lover’s quarrel. Things will get better. You’ll see. It’ll all blow over.”

  She backed away a step. Though she loved him bragging on her, the only reason he wanted her to stay was Johnson, and she had no desire to talk to the stubborn oaf ever again.

  “I’m sorry, sir. You and Joe have been great, but…” She willed herself calm, ordered her tear ducts to remain closed, but her vision blurred as more tears welled. “Gij and I are through. It’s over. I refuse to be in the same stadium with the barbaric oaf.”

  She would have been so good to him, and he threw her away. Just like her mother had. What was wrong with her? She was never good enough for the people who supposedly loved her. And why?

  Over some stupid rule, like any of that mattered. Obviously it all mattered more than she did.

  “I’m sorry about your personal problems, Miss Davenport. I feel for you, I do, but we have a contract. You need to buckle up and do what has to be done. Now I suggest you get yourself to Seattle before tonight’s game.”

  “Forget it. I’m not going. So if you want the game covered, better find someone else to send. I’m driving home to my daddy’s this morning, and I’m never coming back. Sue me if you must.”

  He waved her out. “You can count on that, Missy. Legal will be in contact with you.”

  “Fine. Goodbye, sir. I’ve enjoyed working here at KBTL and I’m truly sorry it has to end like this.” She turned and walked out, but didn’t feel one bit better.

  Gij had ruined her whole life. Not only had he broke her heart, he was going to drain her bank account paying the blood suckers. Did lawyers take plastic? He did tell her she could max out her card if she wanted.

  No, that wouldn’t be right. After all, it was his money, not hers too, not anymore. And besides, he’d probably already canceled her Visa. She got the few things she wanted out of her apartment then took her keys to the manager’s office.

  The woman took them with a weird expression. “But your rent is paid through this year. Is something wrong with the unit, Miss Davenport? We’ll be happy to let you choose another one.”

  She took the keys back. “No, no. That won’t be necessary. I’m sorry, I didn’t know he’d prepaid the rent.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The check came while you and Mr. Johnson were in California, right after he beat the Dodgers. Wonderful game, wasn’t it? Your Gij hitting the winning homerun and all?”

  Sammi Dan threw her a nod and her canned smile.

  Fine, so she’d keep the apartment until January. That’d give her more time to figure out the future. Right now, all she needed was to get herself to Dimple.

  Finally, everyone got the message and left Gij alone. He cheered his teammates on that night. They won, but so did Oakland. None of it really mattered. His heart was back in Texas. What was she doing? Where was she? He hated not having her close. Hated it that she wasn’t answering her cell, but what could he say or do to change her heart, nothing.

  But the Lord could.

  That night after too many reconciliation scenarios and happy times played over again and again in his mind, too long trying to find sleep, he got up and went to praying. Sometime before the sun came up, he found some peace.

  The Lord promised to give him the desires of his heart, and Samantha Danielle was the thing he desired above all else.

  She had tried to insist, but Cate wouldn’t hear of it. For about the hundredth time, she told her, “Wouldn’t be right you coming home and sleeping anywhere else. This will always be your room, Sweetheart.”

  So Sammi Dan got her old room back.

  She’d come full circle again. Once upon a time, she couldn’t wait to get out of Red River County. The University of Texas called her name, but her dues were two years at Paris Junior College with three part-time jobs.

  Took that long before she saved enough to pay the difference between what Daddy could afford and what she wanted.

  Then after the wildest two years of her life in Austin, right back here while she worked her way up in the Texarkana station. Man, she had hated that drive, but it made so much sense.

  She’d worked hard and got her big break a year ago when KBTL offered her the weather. What’d that get her?

  A trip to Mexico, some fancy schmancy clothes and shoes, and a broken heart. Oh yeah, and a ’76 emerald green Cadillac convertible classi
c with white leather interior. She probably shouldn’t keep it.

  She could drive her Mazda another three or four years, except where? What could she do? Where would she go?

  All that fairy tale dream she’d been living was over, and there she was. Right back in her old room in her Daddy’s house in the appropriately named Dimple in the cheek of the United States.

  She hated intruding on her dad and his new lady, felt like such an outsider even there.

  Where did she belong?

  That first night after Daddy finally dragged the story out of her, after he went to bed, she and Cate stayed up way too late talking. She kept trying to talk her into patching things up. The woman didn’t understand. Gij was the one who ended it, walked out on her, left her alone. Again.

  Then like she didn’t have enough troubles, once her soon-to-be new stepmother gave it up, Sammi Dan stopped sipping and finished off the bottle of MD 20/20 in two guzzles. Passion Fruit Kool-Aid with a wallop; she’d grabbed it on her way to the sticks.

  Like what she needed most was to punish herself with a king-sized hangover.

  Of course, they let her sleep late and then acted like she’d come up for a nice visit. After a late supper, a Closer rerun—her Daddy secretly loved Brenda Lee—and two silly sitcoms, he turned the game on.

  She retreated to her room and dug out her Ann Everett book. Seemed the perfect title now, seeing as how her own nuptials had been busted.

  “Hey, Sammi Dan. Gij is pitching. King Felix is throwing for the Mariners.”

  She knew that. Joe had been texting her and April like crazy for days about the match up, but she could care less what Gij or the Rangers did. Go Mariners, score like twenty runs.

  Maybe she’d get a job in marketing, or go to New York and try her hand at advertising. Anything but local TV--especially sports—would do her.

  Well, certainly not the weather, ever again. She would consider a gig as a National News Anchor. She’d like that. Maybe she should call Fox, but she’d want some control.

  She hated reading someone else’s copy off the teleprompter. Yeah right, after the blood suckers got through with her, she’d have to work two jobs to make ends meet.

  Except he had paid off all her bills. She needed to figure out some way to pay him back. Some kind of payment plan and start sending a check every month.

  Shaking her head, she made herself focus on her novel. After a couple of false starts where Gij wormed his way into her brain, the words on the page vanished, and she got lost in the story.

  After what had to be the tenth time of her daddy updating her, she put the book away and joined him. “Any score?”

  “No, ma’am. Gij is working on a perfect game, and Flex has only given up one hit and two walks.”

  A part of her was tickled, but another part wanted his Pappaw to be wrong. She figured what had happened was that the old man had actually died for a few seconds, saw the future, then came back to tell Gij.

  But that theory wouldn’t hold watermelon wine. She was not the one for his grandson, and she was not going to be a part of his future.

  Gij threw a belt-high slider that bit hard. The batter missed by a mile for strike three. She snarled at the baby-wide screen. Mental note, buy her dad a really big TV. She chuckled at herself; with what? Her good looks? “He’s such an idiot.”

  “Why would you call him that?”

  “Well, if he waits until the playoffs to throw a no-hitter, his bonus money doubles.”

  “Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Oh yeah, it was for my ears only, but you won’t blab it all over creation. Goes from a cool mil to two large, then four, then eight mil if he throws one in the World Series.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, sir.” She held up three fingers. “Scouts’ honor.”

  “He gets an extra million dollar for a no-hitter?”

  “Yes, sir, and it doubles in each rounds of the playoffs.”

  “I heard he was getting paid the minimum, but not a word about the bonuses. Who thought that up?”

  “He did, but like the big fat oaf he is, he didn’t ask for any cut of the memorabilia. No telling how much the Rangers are making off that.”

  “So, if they make the World Series, he gets an extra eight million for a no-hitter?”

  She nodded and let out a long sigh then whispered to herself. “Then he’s done. Just like us.”

  CHAPTER

  twenty-seven

  The last batter struck out. Gij breathed a deep lungful of sweet ballpark air. That made fifteen if the Ranger fan in the third row had it right. He let them mob him—as if he had a choice.

  Finally, the celebration died down enough for him to extract himself, and he headed straight for the trainer’s ice pack.

  The twinge he’d felt in the seventh had turned into a nagging whine.

  Oh well, he only had one more regular season start, seven more games to pitch in all, then he’d be done. The first game he pitched without Samantha Danielle being there was harder than he thought.

  “Hey, Gij, got a moment?”

  He turned around, April stood there with a half-pleading grin. “No, interviews.”

  “I know, have you talked with Sam?”

  “No, she’s not answering her phone.”

  “Do you know where Dimple is, I can’t find it.”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Mister Yancy wants me to talk with her before…” She shook her head. “He says they’re going to sue her for breach of contract if she doesn’t come back.”

  “How do you know she’s in Dimple?”

  “She told Yancy.”

  “Okay, I can get in touch with her.”

  She lifted her camera, “Any way?” Hers eyes pleaded.

  “They giving you a hard time?”

  She nodded.

  “What do you want to ask?”

  “I don’t know, maybe how about I ask you what’s it’s like to be seven-and-0 and not giving up any runs and the scoreless inning record and two no-hitters. Would that be a good question?”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “I don’t know. Sam’s the talent, not me.”

  “Fine, give me the mic, turn you camera on, and I’ll act like you just asked me a question; when I finish talking, you turn if off. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir, and thank you, Gij.” She beamed.

  Sammi Dan kept watching through the celebration then all the interviews; it tickled her that everyone but Gij came on. Then there he was, holding a microphone. April must have talked him into it.

  Though she hated them both, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen.

  “How does it feel?” Johnson shrugged. She’d seen him do that so many times. “When I was four my Pappaw took me to my first game, from that time until I hurt my arm, my dream was to pitch for the Rangers, then I thought maybe I could get here playing third, but the pain got so bad, well, about the time I kicked pain killers, I discovered Texas Hold ’Em.”

  He smiled. “Samantha Davenport pegged me from the start, knew I traded one addiction for another. Anyway, last year, the Lord healed my arm, and so now, here I am. Living my dream. But it’s hollow without Samantha Danielle.”

  She swallowed hard. Had he just said his life was hollow without her?

  He bore right into the camera then smiled that infectious grin of his. “I love you, Sweetheart.”

  For a second, the lights stayed on him then went off, and the feed switched to Fox’s anchor desk, some blonde Sammi Dan didn’t know sat next to Mark McElmore, the ex-Ranger second baseman turned color commentator.

  “Well folks, that was an unusual post-game interview, especially for someone who had just pitched his second no-hitter in his first seven starts.”

  The camera panned out, the blonde nodded then wiped at her cheeks. “Seems to me the big question is where is Miss Davenport? And what happened with her and Gij?”

  Sammi Dan clicked off the TV.

  “Hey!�
� Her dad reached for the remote. “Don’t you want to watch?”

  “No, I’ve seen enough.”

  Cate hurried into the room, wearing her housecoat. Hadn’t she gone to bed like hours ago? “Sweetheart, it’s Gij.”

  Sammi Dan resisted the urge to take the phone. He could tell the whole world he loved her, but that didn’t make it so. She shook her head. “How’d he get your number?”

  “Well, we’ve been Facebook friends ever since you two came that first time.” Cate put it to her ear then held it back out. “He says Yancy is threatening a lawsuit if you don’t come back.”

  “Tell him I don’t care.”

  Her soon to be mother-in-law listened for a moment then held it back out. “He says I dare you.”

  “What’s he daring me to do? Talk to him?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  She held her hand out then put the cell to her ear. “Okay, Johnson, what are you daring me for?”

  “Hey, Baby, I love you. Did you see the game?”

  “Some of it, now what’s the dare?”

  “Prove me wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “Jesus.”

  She held the phone to her chest. Exactly what was he wanting? She brought it back to her ear. “Okay, Gij, what about Him?”

  “We love each other too much not to be of the same mind. I’m daring you to prove me wrong.”

  “How am I going to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Science? Another religion? Whatever, however you want. But prove to me or let me prove to you. We’ve got to get on the same page. Figure out which one of us is right. I know you love me, and I for sure love you. Let’s not throw it away.”

  That’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? How could she ever have left him? He was the most perfect man she’d ever met. But then not so perfect after all. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Why don’t you come home? You can think about it here.”

  Oh, why did her heart beat so? There wasn’t anything in the world she wanted more than to get back to him and her room in his house, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. It’d just be best if he found himself a sweet little church girl—one who’d never been kissed. She hated him for making her talk. “I’ll think about that, too.”