by Lacy Hart
“Then don’t give up,” Jenny said to me. “You don’t have to give up your life and your dreams to accommodate Wes’ lifestyle. What you do, and think, and believe is just as important as him swinging that baseball bat. Will it take compromise? Absolutely. But if you both really want it, then there’s no reason why you can’t have a relationship.”
“But what about Isabelle?” I said to her. “I don’t want her to think that I am trying to take her place or push her out. I don’t want her to hate me or seem like some kind of threat to her relationship with her father.”
“There’s only one way that is going to resolve itself, Kristin,” Jenny sat up against the pillows on her bed. “You and Izzy are going to have to talk about it so you can let her know how you feel.”
I sat back in the chair. Jenny was right of course but having that conversation didn’t seem like it would be an easy thing for either of us.
I heard the front door open and close and footsteps coming down the hallway. I figured it was Wyatt coming back from the stables, but then I heard “Grandma, I’m home. Track practice got canceled because of the rain, so I thought…”
Isabelle walked into the bedroom and saw me sitting there next to Jenny. We were both taken a bit by surprise, and I could see that she was as unsure as I was about what to do.
“I should go,” I said to Jenny, putting my teacup down on the nightstand and going to stand up.
“Kristin, you sit,” Jenny said to me. Isabelle went to back out of the bedroom. “Isabelle, come over, please.” It was not as much a request as a command. Isabelle walked gingerly into the room and sat on the bed near to Jenny’s waist.
“Now I know this may not be exactly as the two of you wanted your day to go, but this is as good a time as any to hash things out. Isabelle,” Jenny said, looking at her, “I know you have something to say to Kristin to start with, for sure.”
Isabelle blushed and looked down at first. She looked over at her grandmother, who gave her a bit of a glare.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Arthur,” Isabelle said to me. “I should not have spoken disrespectfully to you.”
I could tell it was very tough for her to have to say that to me, but I was glad to hear it.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I said to her. She looked up at me, and I could see that she was turning red and feeling choked up.
“Izzy, I know this has been difficult for you to deal with,” Jenny said to her, turning her attention to her and taking her hand with her left while still holding mine with her right. “It was far from the ideal circumstances for your first exposure to your father having a relationship with someone. I know your Dad and Kristin both feel that way. You need to take a step back from the emotion you felt right away and look at it from the other side. It has been a long time since your father has felt close to someone and let them into his life like this. It hasn’t happened since your mother; he wouldn’t let it happen because he was trying to do what was best for you. You’re a young woman now Izzy, not a little girl anymore. In time, when you start to have romantic interests and boyfriends, you may understand the whole thing a little better.”
I saw Isabelle look over at me when Jenny mentioned boyfriends. I am sure she was worried about what I had seen down at the diner.
The three of us sat there silently for a moment. Jenny slid herself over to the side of the bed where my chair was and put her feet on the floor. She grabbed her oxygen concentrator and slung the bag over her shoulder and stood up from the bed, shakily at first. I grabbed her hand so she could brace herself and she looked at me and smiled.
Jenny leaned down and whispered into my ear. “Talk to her,” she said to me as she shuffled around the bed, gave Isabelle a kiss on the forehead, and walked out of the room, closing the door.
I wasn’t sure what I should do. I had a wave of nerves run through my body as I tried to figure out what to say. I looked over at Isabelle and saw she was looking down at the bed, tracing the outline of the quilting with her index finger. She probably wasn’t any surer about what to say than I was.
“Did you,” Isabelle said nervously, “Did you say anything about what you saw?” she asked.
“No,” I told her. “That’s your business. It’s not my place to say anything.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know Dad would freak out about it. He’s already all tense about me going to the dance on Friday; this would just make it worse.”
“There’s a dance this week?” I said to her.
“Yes, it’s the big spring dance, and the first one I got asked to go to. I’m pretty excited,” Isabelle told me, relaxing a little bit.
“I remember my first dance,” I said to her, leaning forward in my chair.
“Did you go with a boy?” she said, scooting closer to me as she stayed on the bed.
“I did,” I said with a smile. “Charlie Everson. He was captain of the basketball team. I was so excited to get asked, and he was very sweet.”
“How was it? Were you nervous?” Isabelle was showing greater interest in the conversation now.
“I was very nervous,” I told her honestly. “It was my first date. Thankfully my older sister was there to help me out and get ready. She drove me to the dance since I couldn’t drive yet, and neither could Charlie. Once we met there, we had a good time. We danced, we laughed and had a good time with our friends. It was fun.”
“Did he… did he kiss you goodnight?”
I smiled at her. “He did. It was… it was special.”
Isabelle looked at me and smiled. “Bradley hasn’t kissed me yet,” she said sounding disappointed. “I think he’s nervous about it.”
“Boys usually are,” I told her. “When the time is right, he will, I’m sure, and you’ll remember it forever.”
“I wish I had a sister to help me like you did,” Isabelle told me. “Grandma means well, and she tries, but it’s not quite the same thing.”
“If… if you want to, I’d be happy to help you get ready Friday night,” I told her. I didn’t want her to feel like I was imposing myself on her or anything. I could see her eyes light up a bit after I told her.
“That would be nice,” Isabelle said to me. “I would like that a lot.”
I looked down at my watch and saw it was almost two-thirty. I jumped up out of my chair.
“Oh geez, I need to get back to the library,” I said to her in a panic. I walked around the bed, and Isabelle got up and opened the door for me. I smiled at her as we walked out of the bedroom.
Jenny was sitting in the living room, and Wyatt was there with her. They both looked over at the two of us as we entered the room and saw we were both smiling.
“I need to get back to work,” I said to Jenny and Wyatt.
“Thank you so much for bringing the book out,” Jenny said to me. I came over and stood in front of her, and she smiled and took my hand again.
“It was wonderful to get to meet you,” Jenny said to me.
“Same here,” I said to her softly. “Thank you.”
I turned and looked at Isabelle and smiled at her and she gave me a little wave.
“Say, Kristin,” Wyatt said to me as he handed me my windbreaker. “The three of us will be watching the ball game tonight. We’d love for you to join us if you want.”
I put my jacket on and looked at Isabelle, who was looking hopeful like she wanted me to say yes.
“That would be nice,” I said to Wyatt. “I would be happy to join you.”
“Well then come over after work,” Jenny said to me. “We can have some dinner and then watch the game together.”
“Great,” I said. “I will see you then.”
Wyatt held the front door open for me and then followed me out to the porch. The rain had let up quite a bit, but it was still drizzling slightly.
I smiled and looked at Wyatt as I zipped my jacket.
“Did you know this would happen when you invited me out?” I said to him.
“Did I know?” Wyatt
said with a laugh. “Heck, when it comes to women I learned a long time ago that I don’t really know much of anything. I sure hoped everything would work out though, and I know Jenny well enough to know she could steer things the right way. She has that effect on people.”
I leaned over and gave Wyatt a peck on the cheek. I could see he turned red from it.
“Thank you, Wyatt,” I said to him. I turned and walked out to my car, not caring if the raindrops got me a little wet, or if I got rain on the seat of my car. For the first time in days, I felt like life in Chandler was going pretty good for me.
31
Wes
Waiting around for the game to start can seem to take forever at times, and today was one of those days. The overcast skies made everyone worry that there would be a rain delay or even a postponement. Rain delays are the worst, especially after you have gotten yourself ready for the game mentally and physically and then you must wait and wait and wait some more. Luckily for us, the rain had held off and it looked like the game would start on time.
Pete Doyle had moved me up to bat fifth tonight, hitting behind Anton in the hopes he might see some better pitches than the night before. I was far from expecting to have anything close to the night I had before and just wanted to make sure I got good swings so as not to embarrass myself and make people think the first game was just a fluke. As we got ready to take the field, I glanced down at my wristbands, adjusting them, so the KA I wrote on them was turned out to the sides. It made me feel like Kristin was with me to give me some extra motivation.
Our pitcher tonight, Colby Dalton, was another of the young players that were on the Reds this year. He had just a few games of experience last year, and this was a big chance for him to prove himself. He took the mound in the first and promptly walked the first two batters he faced on eight pitches. He heard some light boos from a restless crowd, and after the second walk, I went over to talk to him.
“Decent crowd tonight,” I said to him as I looked around the stadium.
“I guess,” he said to me, looking around nervously as he felt the ball in his hand.
“You got anyone here tonight?” I asked him.
“My parents, and my girlfriend,” he said, adjusting the bill of his cap.
“My parents used to come to my games in Pittsburgh all the time,” I told him. “It freaked me out the first few times. I would try like hell to do good to impress them and always ended up sucking. Play your game, Colby. You got these guys. Slow it down, throw at your pace. Have fun.”
“Thanks,” he said, exhaling. I patted him on the back and moved back to first base. Frank Vincent, the Pirates second baseman who was on first base now, chatted with me.
“What did you tell him, Wes?” Frank said with a smile.
“I told him you guys don’t have a chance tonight and that he should go ahead pick you off, Frank.”
Colby went on to strikeout the next batter on three pitches. Two pitches into the fourth hitter, I saw him looking over to me. He could tell Vincent had a decent lead, even with a man on second. Colby fired the ball to me, I blocked the base with my right foot and slapped the tag on Frank for the out.
“See you later, Frank,” I said to him as I smiled and fired the ball back to Colby. Colby went on to strike out the hitter to get out of the inning. He smiled at me as we walked off the field.
We got off to a quick start again with our leadoff hitter getting on. Then, with two batters out, Anton singled to left field. I came to the plate, getting a good ovation from the crowd. Hank Swan was pitching tonight for the Pirates, and I tipped my helmet to him as I got into the batter’s box. If anyone knew me well on the Pirates, it was Hank since we had played so long together. But I also knew what his tendencies were, so we were on a level playing field. We went back and forth with strikes and balls, and even when the count went to 3-and-2, I fouled off six pitches in a row after that. Finally, on the twelfth pitch and with my arms feeling tired from swinging, Hank hung a slider right over the middle of the plate. I wasted no time and drove it over the right centerfield wall for a home run. Hank looked at me as I rounded third, with a mix of a heated glare and a smile, knowing he had been beaten that time.
Going up 3-0 early made Colby even more comfortable, and he settled in quickly and mowed through the Pirate batters in the second, third and fourth. Hank settled down himself, getting us in order in the second and third, and with two outs in the fourth, he walked Anton ahead of me. Hank had already thrown a lot of pitches by the fourth inning, pushing eighty, and I could see it was wearing on him in his first start of the season. He had a habit of dropping down when he got tired that always got him in trouble, and sure enough, he threw one that was meant to be down but just kept rising for me until it was in the sweet zone. I flicked the bat quickly, and the ball exploded off the bat. It was high into the night, and I lost sight of it as it crossed paths with the bright lights in the outfield. The only sign to me was the crowd yelling and the umpiring circling his finger in the air like he was spinning a plate, signaling home run.
It was stuff out of a fairy tale, or things you dream about when you are playing ball in your backyard as a kid. No one hits five home runs in two games, let alone five in a row. When I got back to the dugout, the guys were going nuts. Ken Abernathy came over and sat next to me on the bench.
“That ties a record, you know,” Ken said to me quietly. Sure enough, they flashed on the scoreboard that I had tied a record for most home runs in consecutive games. I glanced over at the scoreboard and smiled back at Ken.
“Neat,” I said to him and went over to grab a drink of water.
Colby Dalton made into the sixth before running into trouble but only gave up one run to keep us ahead 5-1. Unfortunately, in seventh, our relief pitchers let us down and gave up four runs, so the Pirates tied it up. We came up in the seventh with Hank Swan out of the game and Vic Williams on in relief. Vic was big, strong, and nasty, and not just nasty in what he threw but in how he played. Luckily, we got one man on thanks to an error. Anton then muscled a hit down the left field line for a double, putting men on second and third for me. The crowd was on their feet now when I came up, giving me an incredible rush of adrenaline. I peered out at Williams, not sure what to expect from him. I should have known what to expect when his first pitch was a fastball coming right at me. I quickly turned, and the ball hit me square between the shoulder blades, just where you want to hit someone when you want to send a message. I crumpled to the ground, feeling a searing pain in my shoulder and back. The crowd rained harsh boos down on Vic, and I could hear Anton shouting expletives at him from second base, taunting him and trying to draw him into a fight.
The Reds trainer, Phil Dawkins, trotted out to see if I was okay.
“Where’d he get you, Wes?” Phil said as I sat up.
“In the back,” I said as I started to get to my feet. Phil gave me a hand as I got up and dusted myself off. “I’m good,” I told him as I jogged down to first, eyeballing Vic as he smiled at me.
Our next batter, Brett Thompson, hitting behind me today, lined a single to center to drive in a run to put us ahead. Vic slammed the ball into his mitt, angry with himself for giving up the hit. He went to get two strikeouts and a pop up to end the inning, but we were ahead. I walked slowly back to the dugout and watched Anton cross in front of Williams on the way back, making sure to let him know he was watching him.
My back was sore, but I played on, even as the Pirates tacked on two runs in the eighth to go back in front of us, 7-6. Our lineup went out meekly in the eighth, and we held them in the ninth, so we were still down a run. The Pirates brought in their closer, Pat Stringer, to close things out. Pat was an All-Star closer, one of the bright spots on the Pirate staff. He was tough on everyone and threw lights out stuff from all different angles. Our manager, Pete Doyle, tried to remain upbeat.
”We can do this,” he said, clapping his hands roughly. “We got Anton, Wes, and Brett this inning. We can do this.”
Anton was out watching Stringer warm up while I went out to the on-deck circle to watch.
“Got any tips?” Anton asked me as we watched him throw.
“He’s only got two pitches, Anton,” I told him. “Fastball and cutter, and he always throw the cutter first. Take it and look for the fastball.”
“Got it,” Anton said as he strode to the plate. I watched, taking some practice hacks, and sure enough, the first pitch was a cutter that ran low and away. Anton pumped himself after that pitch, bearing down with his back foot in the batter’s box. The fastball came, and out it went, deep into left field and over the wall. The crowd erupted as Anton tied the game. I slapped his hand as he crossed the plate and saw he had a big smile on his face.