“Maybe not, but love isn’t the answer to everything. You out of everyone should know that.”
“I assure you, I don’t.”
“Victor Van Cleef. You don’t love him, but you marrying him would be the answer to your father’s hopes, wouldn’t it?”
She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. “He hasn’t mentioned it in a while, but yes.”
“Have you told your father you’re not interested?”
“No. I’ve avoided the subject as best I could—”
“Speak up. Every day you don’t, you string them along in the hopes of a Myles and Van Cleef union.”
Her skin went pale. “You’re right. I hoped he’d notice I don’t love him so I wouldn’t have to tell him. I hoped he’d notice I—”
“What?”
She glanced at the other ladies, tossing balls back and forth while they waited. “I don’t want to keep you from Emerson Works, but I hate to part like this.”
Neither did Beck, but it was probably for the best. If she was hurt and angry with him, he would know he had no hope with her—something he knew in his head but not in his traitorous heart. But he couldn’t break things altogether. “We’re friends, Winnie.”
She nodded, clearly disbelieving him. She was right. They wouldn’t see much of each other, especially once he retreated to his old way of solitary living and she married.
“You’ll be fine without a coach.” He turned away from her. “Goodbye, Winnie.”
“Thank you, Beck.” Her words pulled him back. “You’ve been a wonderful coach.”
He waved and left the field. Maybe someday God would heal his inability to take a risk. At least he was the only one hurt by his foolishness. Winnie would forget him in a fortnight.
Chapter Seven
Independence Day arrived warm and dry, the sky clear and blue. Winnie couldn’t have asked for a better afternoon for a baseball game.
She stood in the pitcher’s box in the center of the diamond at the Jefferson Grounds, brushing the dirt underfoot with her broken-in boot. The act might be small, but it was grand, too: she, Winifred Myles, might well be the first woman to pitch here, at the home of the Athletics, Philadelphia’s professional team.
Unlike their practice plot at the edge of the park, this was no weedy field harboring animal burrows and mud puddles. The diamond and outfield were as neat and well tended as a garden, its five-year-old sod protected from outsiders by a ten-foot fence. Benches bordering the outfield provided seating for five thousand people. When the Athletics played here, each seat was taken, and spectators lined the fence, climbed trees, and even perched on neighboring rooftops to watch the games.
Winnie had no such expectations for attendance today, but she was grateful for every person who trickled into the grounds. Either the Women’s Club Auxiliary or the Children’s Hospital would benefit from the sales, but the game would also provide wholesome entertainment for families and show young women that they, too, could play baseball.
What would Susan B. Anthony, in town for the National Woman Suffrage Association meeting, think of that?
Voting was not the same as baseball, but Winnie smiled nonetheless.
She was the only one on her team to do so, though. At their bench between third base and home plate, the Liberty Belles waited for the game to start. Determined to look more uniform for the game, they had all donned dark blue jackets, coordinating skirts, and the team caps, but no one looked any more confident. Irene paced. Ralph clutched a bat as if frightened he might forget to hand it to the first striker. Colleen’s pat on his back was too hard. Rowena’s arms folded, Nora mumbled, and Fannie’s skin tinged the strange yellowish-green of pond algae, like she was about to retch. Dru’s arm wrapped around Gladys—oh, dear, was Gladys crying?
Winnie was at her side in a moment. “What’s wrong?”
Dru mouthed I don’t know.
Nora frowned. “Lulu’s not even here yet.”
One problem at a time. Winnie gently cupped Fannie’s forehead, finding it cool. “Is it something you ate?”
“I haven’t been able to eat anything since yesterday. I’m afraid I’ll drop the ball again.”
Poor dear. “You won’t—”
“If anyone drops it, it’ll be me,” Nora insisted. “Every time it comes to right field—”
“At least you can hit the ball.” Irene interrupted. “I won’t be able to, I just know it.”
Gladys lifted her head. “I don’t remember how to hold the bat without Beck.”
Ah. Gladys was pining over Beck. He would have had just the right thing to say, but he wasn’t here. He didn’t even gather Lulu after practice anymore. He’d quit them completely a week ago.
He hadn’t quit Winnie’s thoughts, though—practical thoughts about whether or not the team should take a long walk this morning or rest in anticipation of the game. There were impractical thoughts, too, recalling his smile, his voice, and the fact that she loved him … but he’d made his choice.
She was left to gather the broken pieces of her heart and lead this team. She tugged her hankie from her sleeve and thrust it at Gladys, next on her list of priorities. “You don’t need Beck. You can bat just fine.”
“I’ll help you, Gladys.” Ralph offered the bat. “I’m the only man left on the team, and I’m a good striker.”
Winnie patted the top of his cap. “That’s sweet of you, Ralph, but—”
“Land sakes!” Rowena’s outburst made her jump. “Look at them!”
The Patriots entered the field as one, their ensembles worthy of a full page spread in Harper’s Bazaar. Navy blue paleot jackets trimmed with white star appliqués emphasized their trim figures, and their candy-cane striped skirts swayed like bells. Red ball caps were set just-so atop fashionable coiffures of frizzled fringes and thick coiled chignons at the nape.
“Look at those jackets,” Fannie whispered.
“And their hair.” Awe tinged fine-haired Nora’s tone.
“It’s artificial. Those are frizzettes and scalpettes; I’m sure of it.” Rowena scowled.
“We look dowdy in comparison,” Gladys moaned.
She was right. “But we dressed for a ball game, not a promenade.”
Dru nodded at Winnie. “They’ll be worrying about their hairpieces falling off in front of half of Philadelphia.”
At least Dru didn’t seem nervous. It must have something to do with the way she kept exchanging smiles with Xavier, who perched in the front row. They’d probably be engaged before the fireworks finished over Independence Hall later tonight.
The Liberty Belles had a game to win first, however, and fancy outfits weren’t going to intimidate her team. Winnie clapped her hands, praying for words of inspiration. “It doesn’t matter what we’re wearing, what matters is our hearts! We are among the first women to play an exhibition baseball game for charity in the United States, and we mustn’t forget how privileged we are to even play. Few women have the freedom to do what we’ve done this summer. As for the game, Beck said—”
Her voice broke. Lord, I miss Beck.
She cleared her throat as her teammates watched and waited, except for Gladys, who still hid her face in Dru’s shoulder. Winnie smiled. “Beck told us to do our best and not take risks. It’s sound advice. Let’s win, and show the world baseball can be enjoyed on any afternoon, by anyone. And we will have fun doing it, and maybe bless the Children’s Hospital, too. What say you?”
“I say aye,” Dru said with a grin.
“Aye,” Ralph chirped.
“Aye.” Colleen’s voice was strong.
The rest of the team joined in, even Gladys. The rest of the team seemed calmer now, but Winnie’s stomach knotted as if she’d absorbed their anxiety. The game would start soon, and if last week’s practice game was any indication, there was a good chance they wouldn’t win. She’d done her best to encourage her teammates, but their opponents were formidable.
And Lulu still wasn’t here. They wer
e a player short.
Winnie beckoned Nora, Fannie, and Colleen. “Without Lulu, there’s a hole in the outfield. Colleen, you’ll need to run back to assist if necessary.”
“I will.” She nodded, but walked off mumbling about thinking Lulu had changed.
That was the thing: Lulu had changed since the visit to the hospital. This past week, especially, she’d been cheery, timely, and helpful. Where was she? Beck might still be angry with Winnie, but he’d wanted Lulu to learn responsibility and teamwork. Playing the game was an essential part of that commitment.
Lord, care for Lulu, wherever she is.
And Beck, too.
She’d prayed for him, his business, and his well-being all week. He may not return her love, but she’d keep on praying for him and thanking God for him. He’d been right to challenge her about Victor and Papa. She’d not had an opportunity to talk to either of them, but she would today, after the game. It might be a short one, without Lulu.
The stands had filled in the time her back had been turned. Many of the faces belonged to people she knew, neighbors and friends and oh, there was Papa, wearing a patriotic ribbon on his lapel. Beside him, Victor chatted with Gladys’s mother. A row ahead of them, a little girl with dark hair danced at her seat—Penny! Winnie waved at her and Miss Foster.
Penny cupped her tiny hands around her mouth. “Win, Winnie!”
“I shall try, Penny!”
To the left, she spied Dr. Post from the Children’s Hospital and two patients who must have been deemed well enough to attend. Winnie rushed over to greet them. “Kenny! Zechariah! How pleased I am to see you!”
Kenny’s face was flush with color. “I’m better, Miss Myles.”
“You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear it, Kenny.”
Zechariah squinted past her. “Where’s Mr. Emerson?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.
“They’re busy.” Kenny nudged Zechariah’s stump. “The game starts in five minutes.”
It was later than she thought. “I’d best rejoin the team, boys. Cheer for us.”
They responded with rousing huzzahs.
Winnie marched past the Patriots and their fancy uniforms. Dru held out her hand. “Shall we pray?”
Winnie took Fannie’s hand in her empty one and they bowed their heads. “Lord, for the freedoms we celebrate on this day, for this game we are to play, and for our many blessings, we thank Thee. Guide and protect both teams, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
The ladies broke apart as the stout field manager called for an umpire from among the spectators. A bearded, middle-aged gentleman in the front row stood. “I’ve judged baseball before.”
“Suitable.” The manager spun around. “Patriots up first. Striker to the line!”
Ralph handed Winnie a ball. She jogged to the pitcher’s box, even as her belly fluttered with nerves. The memory of Beck’s voice filled her ears. Take your time. Don’t rush. Stand tall.
She took a deep breath and pitched.
Crack! The ball flew midfield, right where Lulu would have been standing. By the time Nora captured the ball, the striker was at second base.
Irene fumbled the next hit, resulting in the first run scored by the Patriots. Winnie’s attempts to pitch strikes failed, as each one connected with the ball and sent it just out of the Liberty Belles’ reach.
Twenty minutes in, the Patriots had scored four runs. Winnie rubbed her aching forehead. There was a lot of game left to play, but the Liberty Belles were already losing.
“Sorry!” A slender woman in a dark blue jacket rushed toward the umpire, panting from exertion. “I’m on the Liberty Belles. Carriage accident….”
Lulu!
“Get on the field.” The judge pointed to the gaping hole in the outfield. The Patriots protested, but the judge waved them off. “They’re a man down. I mean a woman. Aw, just play.”
Winnie met her halfway. “Are you well, Lulu?”
“Yes. Extremely so.” Her smile was bright and her words intriguing.
Winnie didn’t have time to press Lulu on the mystery, however. She spun back to pitch—
Lulu hadn’t come alone. Alonzo and Gilby Gresham hurried to find seats. Parting from them, donned in a blue suit to match the team and a Liberty Belles cap, Beck jogged to the bench to join Ralph. His smile melted the bones in her shins.
Despite the sudden weakness in her knees, her arm and shoulder didn’t falter. She tossed the ball so hard the striker swung and missed.
Adjusting the bill of his cap to better block the July sun, Beck grimaced at the scoreboard. “The Patriots scored four runs already?”
“Yep.” Ralph adjusted his bill, too. “Them fancy girls kept hitting the ball to Lulu’s spot.”
“Can’t blame ’em. It’s good strategy.” Beck bent forward as Winnie tossed the ball and the striker missed for the third time.
“Yer out, missy.” The judge pointed. The Patriots striker threw down the bat.
“Two more to go!” Beck wished he could clap. “Don’t rush it, Winnie!”
She didn’t. The next striker had two strikes against her when she sent the ball to the outfield, allowing her to take first base. With a pat to Ralph’s head, Beck rose and moved closer to Irene, silently communicating with a nod that the next up to bat had a tendency to hit down the line.
She did. Irene was ready, scooping up the ball, tapping her base, and tossing the ball efficiently to Gladys on second base. That made three outs! “Well done, Liberty Belles!”
The team rushed in, surrounding him with eager, smiling expressions.
“Good to see you, Coach.” Dru smiled.
Gladys beamed. “Are you really back?”
“I am. Sorry we’re late.” He spoke to the team, but his eyes were on Winnie. She hadn’t said anything to him, but her smile told him how glad she was to see him.
Lulu took Winnie’s arm. “There was a carriage accident. No one was hurt, but the roads were blocked.”
“Why are you grinning like that, if there was an accident?” Fannie asked.
“Oh, something else happened. I’ll tell you later,” Lulu promised.
“Striker to the line!” The judge’s order was sharp.
Beck nodded. Time for business. “We have a long game to play.”
“I don’t like that girl.” Ralph glared at Paulette, waiting in the pitcher’s box.
“Me neither.” Rowena’s default expression was a scowl that didn’t budge.
“I don’t like what she said, and it’s not been easy to forgive her.” Winnie’s jaw clenched.
But her words implied she was trying, and Beck thanked God for it. He patted her shoulder—a coach-like thump of approval that wouldn’t look like anything affectionate to anyone observing, but it sent a shock up his arm. “Winnie’s right. Paulette isn’t our enemy. She’s our opponent, and her remarks were meant to upset us. You Liberty Belles are as strong as your namesake, so go prove it. Play smart and clean, no risks. Irene, you’re up first. Aim low between first and second base, if you can. That’s their weak spot.”
Winnie’s eyes were wide when she looked up at him. Oh, his hand was still on her shoulder. Uh-oh.
She stood with him rather than taking a seat on the bench. “I’m glad you came back.”
“I couldn’t leave my team.” Then, even though this wasn’t the time or place, even though he’d left her at the ball and quit the team, even though his actions had hurt her, ever-so-slightly, he nudged her arm. Just a brush of fabric from his sleeve against hers.
Two seconds later, she did the same, and Beck didn’t believe for an instant it was an accident. A grin tugged at his lips.
Much as he would have liked to stand by her side for the rest of the afternoon, he had a game to coach. Irene made a solid hit, and so did Gladys. Dru batted third and sent the ball flying, so the bases were loaded. Winnie, batting fourth, took the bat from Ralph and approached the plate. He didn’t need to remind her that i
f she got a base hit, the Liberty Belles would score a run.
It would be a much-needed boost to the team, and a start toward evening the score.
Paulette tossed the ball. Winnie jumped back. If she hadn’t, the ball would have battered her hip.
The judge shook his head. “Unfair ball.”
“Sorry,” Paulette called.
Winnie nodded but no more. She wasn’t about to let anything break her concentration.
Paulette’s next pitch was so low and close it brushed Winnie’s skirt. The judge called it unfair. Beck groaned.
So did Ralph. “Is that lady really going to throw nine unfair balls so Winnie walks to first?”
“No.” She wouldn’t sacrifice a run like that. “She’s trying to anger Winnie and then strike her out.”
“That’s mean.”
“It’s strategy.” Beck glanced down at Ralph. “But yeah, it’s not in the spirit of the game, is it?”
The crowd booed and cheered, depending on which side they supported, as Paulette continued to pitch balls aimed at Winnie’s body rather than the strike zone. Beck cupped his hand over his mouth. “Stay calm, Winnie.”
Her tiny nod told him she’d heard, but she didn’t break her focus on Paulette as she threw and Winnie dodged. Then Paulette threw right into the strike zone. Winnie swung and missed.
“Strike one,” the judge called. The Patriots hooted. The Liberty Belles muttered.
Come on, sweetheart. Don’t let her bully you.
She didn’t. Winnie swung and connected with the ball. The ground ball was caught and Winnie was out at first base, but her sacrifice enabled Irene to score a run. The two hugged as they made their way back to the bench.
Their smiles died when they met Beck’s serious gaze. Winnie licked her lips. “Did I do wrong?”
Of Rags and Riches Romance Collection Page 13