“Got it,” she said firmly, grabbing the bowling ball from his hands. Then she smiled, letting him know she was only mimicking the way he’d taken over, grabbing up Sammy’s wheelchair earlier.
She kept smiling, too. Every time Sammy knocked down the pins, she clapped for her son, and then looked back at Mac, thanking him with her smile before she set up the pins all over again. And as Sammy and Megan’s laughter rang out across the fields, Mac couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. Somehow it all felt so much better than other days he’d spent in the sun, even the days with thousands of fans cheering his name.
Chapter 10
Megan couldn’t believe how nervous she’d been on the drive out to Mac’s place. Now she couldn’t believe how relaxed she felt, sitting on a patchwork quilt on his lawn, the length of his long, lean body stretched out beside her.
Mild rays of sunshine dripped languidly from the sky like rich golden honey, sweetening their spot on the grass below. A gentle June afternoon breeze ruffled the leafy limbs of the maple tree overhead, partially shading the faded blanket that looked like it’d seen many a picnic in its day. Letting her head fall back on her shoulders, Megan marveled at how peaceful she felt soaking in both the warmth of the sun and the caress of the breeze.
“It’s wonderful here, Mac.” She sighed.
“It’s a perfect day, isn’t it?” He looked around the grounds appreciatively before nodding down at Sammy who was sleeping soundly, his head nestled in her lap. “I think the bowling wore him out.” His mouth curved with surprising tenderness at the sight of her sleeping child.
“Yes, the bowling and Bitty.” With a gentle touch, not wanting to wake him, she brushed aside the hair from Sammy’s forehead. “He really enjoyed playing with Bitty.”
Her eyes settled on the gray-and-white barn cat that had wrapped itself into a curlicue and lay napping by Sammy’s side. Such a sweet sight, Megan didn’t bother to mention how excited Sammy had been the night before—so excited he hadn’t gotten to sleep until late.
Of course, she didn’t dare say that she hadn’t slept well either, worrisome thoughts about spending time alone in Mac’s company busying her mind into the wee hours of the night as well.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat so much pizza. I haven’t either, come to think of it.” She laughed. “It was delicious, Mac. You really made it all by yourself?”
“Would this face lie to you?”
Her gaze shifted to his smooth-shaven jawline, still uncomfortable with the way her cheeks involuntarily warmed every time she looked at him. Though she knew his question was rhetorical, inwardly she automatically responded anyway, calculating all she’d seen—and felt—in the past couple of hours.
After all, as much as she wanted to believe it was only the tranquil setting responsible for their special outing, looking at Mac, she knew it wasn’t true. There was no denying he had gone to a lot of trouble to make her and Sammy feel welcome and at ease—starting with his insistence on getting Sammy’s wheelchair out of her car. Then there was the surprise of the bowling ramp he’d built. Along with the pizza he’d made from scratch. And the quilt and picnic basket? Somehow he’d managed to find them somewhere or another.
Plus, there were no news cameras around to record his hospitality. No reporters taking notes. Was it foolish of her to believe there was no deception in his motives?
“What made you think of the bowling ramp?”
“I’m not sure.” His broad shoulder crooked upward. “About a week ago, I woke up around three a.m. and couldn’t get the idea out of my head.”
“Do you always wake up in the middle of the night with things on your mind?”
“Yeah.” His brow tilted. “Yeah, actually I do.”
She’d been referring to the after-midnight whittling incident Mac had told her about, but the way he steadied his eyes on hers … well, it made her think he was referring to something quite different. Something that might have to do with her. Causing her breath to hitch as she struggled to look away from him, out onto the acres of sun-soaked fields and woods. Exactly where they needed to get going to, she reminded herself. That is why she’d driven all the way out to the farm in the first place.
“I think we should go have a look around your property now, don’t you?”
“I can carry Sammy into the house if you want,” Mac offered. “He can nap on the couch or in my bed.”
“Oh.” She straightened. “I think he’ll be okay here. Can we just keep a watch on him?”
“We’ll make sure not to walk out of eye range.”
Sammy barely stirred when she lifted his head from her lap and settled him gently on the quilt, making sure the shady limbs covered him. Mac held out his hand to help her up, and though she was reluctant to grasp it at first, not wanting to think about his fingers closing around hers for even an instant, she did anyway.
He pulled her to her feet and she was acutely conscious of his tall, athletic physique—taller than what she usually felt comfortable around. Even still, she noticed that his powerful, well-muscled body moved with easy grace through the grassy field. All around them was land as far as the eye could see, and on the outskirts of that, copses of trees which hemmed in the property on all sides. A small pond broke up all that green with a glittering blue where a few ducks lazily glided across the water.
Wildflowers grew in clumps every so often, dotting the earth with golden yellows and royal purples. But even though he had ownership of all that land and beauty, Megan noticed Mac seemed more excited by it rather than proprietary.
“Your uncle lived here all of his life, didn’t he?”
“Most of his adult life. It was great for me, coming out here to visit him.”
“Did he ever get lonely? I mean when you weren’t around?”
“I don’t think so. Uncle Jake had a lot going on, and he was married for a while, you know.”
“Oh? There was a Mrs. Lochen?”
Mac nodded. “She passed when she was fairly young, and they hadn’t had any children. I don’t remember her very well; I was so young at the time. All I know is there was no other woman Uncle Jake ever talked about after Aunt Emily died.”
She let the information sink in. Funny, how she’d known there was a Lochen Farm owned by Jake Lochen and had passed the place more times than she could count, but she hadn’t known Mac’s mother’s brother or realized his ties to Mac. She also had no clue as to how pretty the Lochen property was beyond what she could see from the road.
“Are you sure you want to host the event here? I mean, aren’t you concerned it might make a mess of your land?”
“It’s nothing that can’t be cleaned up.” Mac shrugged. “And it’s for a good cause, Megan. Of course I want to host it.”
“What about parking? Where do you see the cars going? You don’t want them to damage any of the grass and all.”
“They won’t,” he said easily before turning to look back from where they’d come. “I’m thinking the area up where Sammy’s napping would be best for the parking—in the lawn that lays in the front of the house and to the sides. That’s a few acres and can easily fit hundreds of cars.”
“You’ve actually been thinking about this. I’m surprised.” The realization caught her off guard and so did her words, blurted out with no filter.
“Of course I’ve been thinking about it. Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrowed quizzically, but only for a split second before he continued, “There are eight events, right?”
“Maria is chairing the Events Committee, but, yes.” She nodded. “I think at last count there were eight. Oh, and now the bowling ramp makes nine.”
“Nine events, which can be spread over this expanse of fields.”
He waved his arms wide, visibly excited to be offering his property to her. She felt her excitement growing along with his as they scanned the acreage together.
“We need to make room for bleachers at each event,” she noted.
&nbs
p; “Bleachers, definitely. I’ll get out the tractor and get this place mowed. I’m also planning to have a temporary fence put up around the pond. I don’t want anyone to fall in. Or try to jump in.”
“We’ll find the money in the budget for that, Mac,” she assured him. “You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Not necessary. It’s on me.”
“Thanks, Mac, that’s really nice of you, but …”
“You know …” He picked up a clump of dirt from the ground with his left hand, flinging it off into the distance. Turning to her, his words slowed to a lazy drawl, making each sound more emphatic. “You were doing really well till you got to that ‘but’ part. How about just saying, ‘Thanks, Mac, that’s really nice of you?’ “
He gazed into her eyes, and she caught a flicker of humor twinkling there. But even more, she sensed an invitation. An invitation for them to come to terms with one another. To be friends.
Or more?
She wasn’t sure as his lips curved in that irresistible MacNeill Hattaway grin, causing her heart to flutter against her will. Causing her to concede to his wishes, even though she didn’t want “something for nothing” from him or anyone else.
But for the sake of moving ahead without contention and just to get out from under that smile of his that could blind more than the June sun, she swallowed hard and answered him.
“Mac, thanks. That’s, um, really nice of you.”
“You’re welcome, Megan.”
Grateful for an excuse to tear her eyes from his, she glanced over her shoulder to check on Sammy. He and Bitty were still cuddled up together, fast asleep.
“Looks like they’re down for the count.” Mac chuckled. “Want to walk some more?”
She nodded, and both mindful not to stray out of eyesight, they surveyed more of the farmland, discussing which event would fit which part of the property best. Again, Megan felt mildly shocked at how much thought Mac had put into the planning already and felt even more ashamed than she had earlier. Had she really misjudged him so badly?
“You—you really do want to help, don’t you?” Her thoughts tumbled out loud again, and though she hoped they sounded complimentary, especially compared to what she had been thinking about Mac just weeks … actually only hours before, evidently it didn’t sound the same to him.
Suddenly his jaw clenched noticeably, and she’d never heard his voice so harsh as he replied, “I wouldn’t have signed up for the job if I didn’t want to, Megan.”
So much for the peaceful, unspoken truce they’d established just minutes before. “Well, I mean—” He stopped her before she could blurt out an explanation.
“I can tell you exactly what you mean.” He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice took on a calmer tone. “You think I’m doing this for myself, don’t you? You think that I’m trying to get back into the good graces of the public again. That I figure they’ll forgive me, and then I can turn around and do the same irresponsible things all over again. Right?”
“Well, I …” She bowed her head. It was true, everything he said was true. She’d judged him for his past and would barely let his present actions count for anything. But, oh, how she was sorry for that now. If there’s anything she remembered from her Christian upbringing it was not to judge others—and she usually wasn’t hard on anyone—but herself.
“Mac, I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I’ve been unfair.”
With the crook of his index finger, he gently lifted her chin. “Don’t be sorry, Megan. Really. It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. She’d sat in judgment of Mac because it had been so easy. After all, the newspapers and tabloids had already done the work for her. She’d rolled her eyes when most of the locals stood behind him, even with her parents and the volunteers. Most of them had gotten past his former indiscretions. They were thrilled to be working with him and giving him a second chance.
But not her. Oh no. She couldn’t let it go, could she? She couldn’t because—
She gasped at the realization. It was because she was afraid. Afraid ever since that rainy night when she’d jumped out of her car shaking her finger at the tall, good-looking guy whose concern showed all over his handsome face. Ever since then she’d felt the need to protect her feelings. To protect her heart.
Oh yes, she’d made up a whole list of reasons in her mind why MacNeill Hattaway was so awful. Why he couldn’t be trusted. But at the core of that was her heart, and in her heart she hadn’t been feeling that way about him at all.
The truth was, the more she was around him, the more she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She couldn’t stop blushing when he looked at her. And she hadn’t wanted him to help chair the event partly because just the thought of standing next to him made her stomach go all jittery and…
“Mac, I—”
Ever so softly he pressed a finger to her lips. “Megan, listen, it’s okay. You’re right. You are,” he repeated. “I am helping out with the All-Stars Sports Day event for me. I am doing it for myself.”
She felt her eyes grow wide as she gazed into his narrow ones, his admission sending her emotions into a jumble all over again.
He could feel his temper rising at Megan’s question, but it wasn’t because of her or what she asked. It was because of him. He just wanted to be with her. To share the perfect day in the present. But it wasn’t that easy—not with his past dragging everything down again. Not that he didn’t deserve it of course.
Still, he hated seeing the way the distrust appeared so quickly again in her eyes. But then, he did set her up for that, didn’t he? He needed to explain exactly what he meant, once and for all. Then maybe she’d believe him. Then maybe her eyes would reflect the trust and appreciation he’d caught a glimpse of earlier.
“Look, I don’t blame you for your speculations. But what I’m saying is, it’s not in the way you think, Megan.” His voice softened. “Yes, I’m doing this for myself. I am. But only because I don’t want to be the same insensitive, self-involved guy I was before.”
He paused, looking away from her, watching a blue jay flit from one tree to the next while working to gather his thoughts before he spoke. “I felt honored, blessed, when Ted asked me to help with the special-needs kids. Honestly, I felt lucky he’d even talk to me again.”
She crooked her head upward. “You and Ted? I got the impression you two were friends.”
“Yeah, well, Ted and I played knothole as kids. He was the only person I stayed in touch with from Loveland all through my growing up years. But that was mostly because our moms stayed friends after our move.”
He searched for the blue jay again, wanting to look anywhere but at Megan, hating to admit what he was about to. “I was never that great of a friend to Ted though. I missed out on his wedding. Our team was playing out in L.A. at the time and of course, I was scheduled to pitch.”
“It’s not like you could help that, Mac.”
“No, but I didn’t even acknowledge his big day with a present and …” He shrugged, not in a big rush to tell the worst of it, the part he felt most guilty about. “The thing is, the Hawks were in town years later when I got news that Ted and Wendy had a little girl with cystic fibrosis. Yes, I was here, and I could’ve easily made a phone call or gone to the hospital for a show of support. But it seemed too hard. Too hard for me. That’s all I thought about. Myself. It was easier to go out and party after our series than to think about what was going on in Ted’s life. I didn’t feel like I had any words of wisdom to share with him and Wendy, so I took the easy way out. I just didn’t show up.”
The light, consoling touch of Megan’s hand on his arm made him turn to face her.
“I’m sure it was an awkward time for them as well, Mac. It can be unbearably difficult at first—when you find out the precious baby you’ve come to love so completely for nine months—or in Sammy’s case, seven months—is born physically or mentally challenged.”
He started to ask her que
stions, but then thought better of it. Maybe, like him, she just needed to explain herself.
She slid her hand away and continued rubbing the material of her dress between her fingers like she might a worry stone. “Your emotions are totally jarred. There’s so much you can’t comprehend. All the while you’re carrying your darling little baby, all you can think about is them and their future. And then the baby is born and all of that isn’t a reality anymore. You’re so unsure of everything, so worried about any possibility of a future your child might ever have.”
“So, you didn’t know about Sammy until he was born?”
“Not at all. His development was proceeding just fine. My pregnancy was textbook perfect. And then, seven months into it I began having problems that forced Sammy to be born prematurely. The cerebral palsy is a result of that.”
He couldn’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, to think everything’s fine, and then suddenly not turn out like that at all. Obviously, the only thing he had to compare it to was being ahead in runs going into the bottom of the ninth and then having the last batter up hit a grand slam. But how banal was that? Having a life—your baby’s life and livelihood at stake—was something he honestly couldn’t fathom.
“I was a mess. I didn’t want to see anyone. I was ugly, blaming myself. Blaming God. And blaming myself again when my husband, Sammy’s daddy, walked out on us months later, thinking how I should’ve never married him in the first place.”
Megan shook her head and fingered the wisps of hair around her face and at the back of her neck, tucking them all back into place. Almost like she had said too much and was trying to pull herself together again.
“That sounds like a normal reaction,” he offered, wishing he’d been there with her. But then that was a dumb thing to think. Six years ago, he’d been a mess, for a whole other set of reasons.
“It wasn’t pretty. But, oh, what a handsome little guy my Sammy was!” She brightened at the mention of his name. “When I’d see him sleeping or laying in his crib it was so hard to believe there was anything less than perfect about him.”
Wedding Homerun in Loveland, Ohio Page 10