Wedding Homerun in Loveland, Ohio

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Wedding Homerun in Loveland, Ohio Page 6

by Cathy Liggett


  Yet there he was, surprising her again. He seemed to be everywhere these days.

  Unbelievably, he also apparently knew the teen who had a grip on Sammy’s wheelchair.

  “I thought you liked sports, Reese,” she overheard him saying. “That’s what you told me at the baseball clinic.”

  “Who says I don’t?” The boy shrugged.

  “Well, hmm …” She noticed Mac uncross his arms and rub at his chin as if pondering the question. “You have a basketball court here. And a basketball. Yet instead of playing a game, what you choose to do is taunt Sammy here in his wheelchair. That’s not cool, Reese. And it makes me think you like bullying a whole lot more than sports.”

  “What do you mean taunt?“

  She thought Mac might lose his temper a bit when the kid asked that. But Mac remained patient, unfettered.

  “I think you know what it means. If you don’t, somebody can look it up on their iPhone.”

  She didn’t know if it was the derisive tone in Mac’s voice that caused the Reese boy to drop his hands from the wheelchair grips or not. But he did and was quiet about it.

  “Now, what do you think your next move is?” Mac asked him, to which Reese gave a dull, “Huh?”

  Mac repeated the question, nodding his head toward Sammy. “What do you think your next move should be?”

  Reese shifted from foot to foot.

  “He wants you to apologize,” one of the boys at the helm of the group, about the same size as Reese, shouted out.

  “I know that, doofus,” Reese sputtered back at him.

  “Actually”—Mac looked around—”I think a group apology would be real nice,” he said with a sardonic smile.

  Murmurs of “sorry” filled the air. Some of the boys, Megan noticed, even went so far as to pat Sammy on his shoulder or hand. All the while, Sammy smiled, not a begrudging bone in his body, just looking happy to be sitting in the midst of the action.

  That taken care of, Mac addressed the group again. “Now it looks like to me, there’s a basketball over in the grass. Somebody needs to go get it.”

  “I will!” The least virile-looking boy in the bunch suddenly appeared empowered by Mac’s command. He ran as fast as he could to retrieve the ball.

  “So what do I do with it?” the boy asked as he dribbled the ball awkwardly back onto the court.

  Megan was just as curious, wondering what Mac could possibly be up to. He may have been wondering himself because he paused, taking a moment to scratch at his head.

  “Uh, okay. Here’s the deal,” Mac told the boys. “How about we do something constructive? How about you ten guys divide yourselves into teams? An ‘A’ team and a ‘B’ team. Make it fair. Because if the teams aren’t even, Sammy and I are going to make them that way. Aren’t we, Sammy?”

  She watched Sammy’s grin grow to cover his face.

  “Then you’re going to play a quick game of b-ball—let’s say twenty minutes. I’ll time it. Whichever team has the most points when time’s up wins doughnuts from Sweet Sensations.”

  A mingling of cheers erupted then dissipated quickly. The boys got down to business, forming their two ragtag teams.

  Chapter 6

  Being a mom had its rights. Walking onto the basketball court where there was a group of ten males or so who had been teasing her son was one of them.

  But …

  Even though Megan still had emotions coursing through her, wanting to knock some heads together for the way the boys had been treating Sammy—and scaring the wits out of her—and wanting to let MacNeill Hattaway know that she could handle matters with her son on her own, thank you very much, she bit her tongue. She kept her cool. At least this time anyway.

  Mostly because Janey was right, at least to a certain small degree. Though Sammy might be six years old and handicapped, he really wasn’t exactly a baby anymore or oblivious to the world around him. He was becoming more impressionable, beginning to notice things she wasn’t even aware he was noticing. Just like how he’d sat at Paxton’s the other night and told Allie all about the near crash with Mac and how she had “yell at man.”

  Six-year-old perspective or not, she had to realize how her reactions and emotions affected him. Though she’d protect him to her last dying breath—which she hoped wasn’t any time soon since she was his only guardian—better to do it in a more controlled way, for sure.

  So as the teen boys sized up their teams and began to play, she settled herself on the opposite side of Sammy’s wheelchair, where she could easily witness Mac’s zeal for the game. Like the true competitor he was, he was taking the rivalry between the boys very seriously. She completely startled when he apparently sensed her presence, immediately turning his attention from the action on the court to greet her.

  “Hey,” he said quietly, with warmth in his voice.

  Or was she imagining it? The intense expression on his face smoothed for an instant at the sight of her. He even smiled. And for a reason she couldn’t fathom, it didn’t look to be a strained smile, like the ones they both wore in the picture Janey had shown her minutes earlier.

  Nonetheless, it was a quick, confusing greeting, and before she knew it he was back to business again, shouting out coaching tips to the boys and calling fouls on them.

  In contrast, Sammy sang out her name. “Maw-mee!” he shrilled, unable to contain himself with all the excitement going on around him.

  Truly, her son’s face couldn’t have been any brighter or his smile any wider, making her realize even more that she’d been right not to run over and fuss at the boys or Mac and ruin things. Though he looked happy to see her, she could tell he was nowhere near ready to be ripped from Mac’s presence.

  And certainly, she had no trouble understanding that.

  He probably felt more like a part of the game than he ever had before. It wasn’t every day a kid got to hang side-by-side with a baseball superstar or any superstar for that matter. And for Sammy, a true fan, it had to be even more special.

  “Who’s winning?” she asked, since she hadn’t been paying all that much attention to the game.

  “The Tees,” Mac told her. “But the Skins are going to clinch it.”

  So MacNeill Hattaway was psychic, too? Of course! She should’ve known.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He offered a knowing, sideways grin. “They want it more.”

  “They’re big doughnut fans? I overheard what you told them. They’re vying for doughnuts, right?”

  “It’s about the doughnuts to the Tees. It’s about winning to the Skins. They want to win more.”

  “Ahh.”

  She squinted, trying to see the game through Mac’s eyes. As the minutes ticked off Mac’s game watch, she really did begin to discern what he meant. The players on the Skins kept looking to him for approval when they made a basket or defended well. It was obvious they shared something with him—the love of the game? The sport of it all? Who knew? His watching them, his approving nods, apparently meant a lot though.

  Whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was a sort of magnetism about the legendary MacNeill Hattaway. She could see it, even more, she could feel it—now that she experienced him in his element. His love for the game, apparently any game, unmistakably overflowed and seeped into most everyone around him. And he was right. The Skins caught up with the Tees and surpassed them in the last minutes.

  “Cover your ears,” he warned her as he bent down slightly to cover Sammy’s ears with his hands.

  “What?” She barely had time to comprehend what he was up to. Before she knew it, he pursed his lips and with some freaky skill he possessed, let loose with the loudest whistle she’d ever heard come from anyone’s lips. A definite and nearly deafening signal that the basketball game was over.

  “Time’s up!” he shouted. “Way to go, Skins! Nice work, Tees.”

  Sweating and cheering, the Skins picked up their T-shirts from the side of the court, twirling them in the air, before h
igh-fiving Mac and making a run for it across the jogging path over to Sweet Sensations.

  “Can udder boys come?” Megan heard Sammy ask Mac, his voice nearly being drowned out by the hoopla.

  Mac’s forehead wrinkled as he studied her son’s face. “You really want the Tees to come, Sammy?”

  Sammy nodded. “He, too.” Her son made a wobbly attempt to point at Reese, the boy who’d teased him most.

  “Okay.” At Sammy’s request, Mac invited the rest of the boys, and more cheering resulted.

  Meanwhile Reese rushed over to offer his services. “I’ll push Sammy over to the bakery.” He grabbed the wheelchair handles.

  Mac raised a brow. “Gently?”

  “Of course, gently.”

  Ironically, Megan noticed, Reese almost appeared offended by Mac’s question. She had to smile at that, but didn’t mind Reese’s change of heart, especially since she was close by and could keep an eye on how he treated, or mistreated, her Sammy.

  “So how should we do this?” Mac asked her after the boys took off ahead of them.

  “Well, we can’t let all these kids go into Janey’s shop.” She glanced at the group whose all-out exuberance could be mistaken for plain old rowdiness. “How about we go in and grab a few dozen doughnuts and some drinks and let them wait outside at the café tables? Or better yet …” Her thoughts suddenly turned to Janey who she knew would make a fuss of her and Mac being together. “You stay with the boys. Let me go in alone.”

  “Alone? Don’t be silly.” Mac splayed out his hand, inviting her to go up the wooden bakery steps ahead of him. “My treat, remember?”

  Only, after Megan had tolerated Janey’s uncontrollable gushing over Mac, and after dozens of doughnuts were boxed up and ready to be paid for, Mac patted his hips for his wallet.

  “Oh, no way.” He groaned. “Forgot I had on running shorts. I don’t have a dime on me.”

  “No problem!” Janey exclaimed. “They’re on the house, you two.”

  “You are not giving us the doughnuts for free, Janey.” Or turning this into a “we two” situation. Megan reached into her purse for her wallet.

  “But this is exciting! Having you both here, you know, at the same time,” her friend chattered, over-splashing coffee into their to-go cups.

  “Exciting or not, I’m paying. So you may as well tell me how much. Unless you want me to overpay.”

  After squaring up with Janey and getting back outside, Megan noticed Reese had already pulled Sammy’s chair up to a table and was sitting next to him. All the other boys filled the remaining seats. Distributing doughnuts all around, Megan pointed to the only place left for her and Mac to sit—a waist-high rock ledge that also served as a flower bed in spots. They hoisted themselves up on it.

  “That was pretty lame,” Mac confided. “I invite the guys for doughnuts. And you end up buying.”

  He bit into his bear claw, and Megan was suddenly aware—almost mesmerized—by the size of his hands. No wonder he could handle a baseball so deftly. Although … at the moment he didn’t look like the poster boy for a tall, handsome pro athlete the way he typically did. Unshaven, his hair disheveled, with a slight tear in an old college T-shirt. In a way, he actually looked more interesting to her than he usually had. More human. More … likeable really. Well, maybe that was going a bit far too fast.

  Working to take her eyes from him, she tried to focus on what he was saying instead. He was still embarrassed about not having his wallet.

  At first, she had to admit, she had been put-off back in the bakery, wondering if he was trying to pull the Hattaway charm thing. Get something for nothing. But even if he was, did it matter? In a way, she’d been glad to pay.

  This was probably the best Saturday morning Sammy had ever had at the basketball court, what with the “high stakes” game and the camaraderie of the other boys. Even now she knew he was soaking in as much as he could. Maybe he couldn’t entirely follow all of the boys’ banter about sports and whatever else they were saying. But he was glowing, sitting in the middle of it all, with a few of the guys asking if he needed any help with his milk and doughnuts from time to time.

  And it had all started with MacNeill Hattaway coming to Sammy’s defense.

  Maybe she needed to let down her defense as well. At least just a bit.

  “These kids will probably never forget this,” she told him. “The Saturday morning MacNeill Hattaway bought them doughnuts.”

  “Almost bought them doughnuts.” He corrected her with the same easy smile he’d given her earlier.

  “Ha! True.”

  “And, trust me, they went crazier at the mention of free doughnuts than they did at the mention of my name.”

  “Maybe that saying is true? You know, the one about ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ “

  “Could be.” He grinned and she sensed he was enjoying himself, or at least enjoying their repartee. Which maybe was a good thing after all, she supposed. They would be working together. A lot. For the next several months.

  “I really will get the money back to you, Megan.”

  “Do I look like I’m worried?”

  It was rhetorical of course, so she didn’t expect an answer. She also didn’t expect the way Mac looked at her. Really took a minute to look at her as if appraising her expression. As if seeing something more than she wanted to share.

  Yes, they’d been talking easily, making some of the strain from a few nights prior begin to fade away. Even so, it was only talk. And his looking at her felt like more than that.

  Turning away from his gaze, totally aware of her burning cheeks, she busied herself, dusting off the sugar from her hands. Wiping them with a napkin. Placing the napkin in her empty white doughnut bag. Crumpling the bag into a small ball.

  “Finished with that?” Mac hopped down from the ledge, reaching out for the bag. As he walked over toward the trash can, she tried to not watch him, tried not to notice the way he moved with such agility.

  Instead, she glanced over at Sammy and once again saw him beaming. She felt her heart relax and warm, and if it could speak it would’ve surely cooed “aahhh” at that moment. It was a feeling, a deep contentment she didn’t experience often. No, not often enough.

  Once again, whether she liked it or not, a small voice niggled inside her, reminding how they’d gotten to this place, this moment.

  MacNeill Hattaway.

  He was rubbing his right elbow as he walked back to their spot along the wall. Second nature to her, she couldn’t help but ask, “Is it bothering you? Your elbow?”

  “Not so much anymore, honestly. Just acts up once in a while.”

  “Have you been seeing a physical therapist?”

  “Not really. I’m past that phase. It’s been a lot of months since the accident. I still do some exercises on my own to continue to strengthen it though.”

  “Did you do something to make it act up?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “You might say that. I fell the other night.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Probably not.” He half-chuckled, shaking his head. “Not one of my brightest moves. Why? Are you a doctor or something?”

  “I’m an ‘or something,’ ” she told him. “A physical therapist.”

  “Really? That’s great. Everyone needs a physical therapist from time to time. Actually,” he harrumphed, “I seem to need one almost all the time. Where do you work?”

  “See that? Right over there?” She pointed to the building where she spent at least forty hours of each week.

  “With the green roof?”

  “That’s the place. I could … I can give you a quick ultrasound treatment if you want. It may help ease the discomfort.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could retract them. Is this what MacNeill Hattaway did to people? How he got them to react to him? By being charming? Humble? And smiling a lot?

  Make a person forget about his past …


  Maybe even make me forget mine, too?

  Well, she wasn’t going to get caught up in him like everyone else always seemed to do. She couldn’t afford to. If he took her up on her offer, that was fine. In the clinic she’d be on her own turf. In a place where she was in command. Where she felt comfortable. Even if she was alone with MacNeill Hattaway, it would be absolutely no problem. She could handle the situation without a doubt.

  “The clinic’s not open on Saturdays?” Mac asked as Megan pulled out her keys, unlocking the wooden door to LPTC, the Loveland Physical Therapy Clinic.

  “Every other,” she told him. “But I’m lucky enough that I don’t have to work on Saturdays so I can spend the time with Sammy. Plus, going to Janey’s on Saturday mornings is a family tradition of ours. We’d both go through withdrawal if we had to stop.”

  She laughed, and to Mac, the sound filled the place, causing the rows of metal exam tables and exercise equipment to instantly feel less sterile, homier. He watched as she moved around the room in her jeans and flip-flops, set down her purse, washed her hands. She started to flick on some lights, but then changed her mind, which was fine. There was so much sunshine pouring in the arched windows, making her dark, shiny hair even shinier, that lights were unnecessary. Plus they were only going to be there fifteen minutes or so. Her friend Janey had said she’d be more than happy to keep an eye on Sammy, who was still content to be sitting with the other kids, listening to them talk sports.

  “So this is your home away from home?” Mac asked her.

  “Monday through Friday.” She nodded to the exam table closest to him. “Want to hop up there?”

  Pushing a small portable cart in front of her, she made her way over to him. As she pulled the cart up close to the table, he was familiar enough with the ultrasound equipment it housed not to have any questions.

  Except for one or two about her.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Why?” Her eyes smiled into his, taunting. “Are you nervous?”

  “Uh-uh. Not at all. I’m sure I’m in capable hands.”

  At least her hands felt good anyway as she squirted cold gel on his bare arm then proceeded to warm the substance and his skin with her soothing, expert touch.

 

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