“And that’s probably all you see in him now. Perfection.”
“You’re right.” Her smile warmed him, a reward for his insight. Not that he’d had to think very hard about it. Pride for her son was written all over Megan’s face.
“So I guess what I’m saying is that in the beginning—I mean, even if Ted knew about Hannah’s condition—it may not have been a good time to visit him and Wendy anyway.”
“I could say that if I’d even tried, Megan. But fact is, I didn’t. Thanks for your absolution though.”
All that being said, it felt like time to move on, now that they’d put some remnants of their pasts to rest. Walking in comfortable silence, they came to shorter patches of grass, where a white oak tree that appeared to be as old as the settlement of Loveland itself stood with its branches stretching out in every direction like points on a compass.
“What a great tree.” Megan stopped to admire the oak before moving closer to lean against the massive, solid trunk.
“I climbed it more than a few times back in the day.” Mac rubbed his hand over the lowest branch, noting how the bark had smoothed over time.
“What’s that over there?” She pointed to the corner of the field where he’d spent a considerable amount of time as a kid. “It looks like there’s a fence or— Oh, is that a baseball diamond or something?”
He laughed. “A little hard to detect it’s so overgrown. But yeah, that’s where my uncle taught me all about baseball. Well, baseball and life—and all about God, too. That’s why I couldn’t ever let anyone else buy this place when Uncle Jake passed. I had to have it for myself. There are too many memories here. A lot of good memories.”
“Better memories than your World Series win?” “Different for sure. Richer in a way.”
“So … did you always like baseball?” Megan squinted into the sunlight that flickered through the limbs of the tree, looking so pretty with her face turned up at him that it took him a second to process her question.
“Like it? Uh, no. I loved it. Always did. Loved everything about it, even the history and trivia of baseball. For example, did you know before the first catcher’s mask was developed in the late eighteen hundreds, catchers wore rubber bands around their teeth to try to protect them?”
“Really?” She smiled. “I’ve never even thought about anything like that.”
“Yeah, well, I probably did because I burned to know about every aspect of the game. I loved the tools of the trade. Always cleaned off my bats, and I’ll never forget how good it felt when my parents bought my first real baseball mitt for me.” He shook his head remembering. “I really loved the smell of that thing.”
She giggled at that, the sound drawing a smile to his face. “The smell of your mitt?”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckled with her. “The smell of a leather mitt always got to me.”
“That’s funny.”
“Not really. You’re the same way.”
“The same way? Uh, I don’t think so. I do not go around sniffing baseball mitts.” She laughed.
“No, but you take in the aroma of what you love.”
She scrunched her face at him.
“It’s true. I’ve seen you smell an apple before you bite into it. And many times I’ve seen you sift your fingers through Sammy’s hair, and then take a whiff of it before you kiss him on the head.”
“Ha! That makes me sound like some kind of mother dog or something.”
“You do have sort of floppy ears now that I’m noticing.”
“Floppy ears?” She gave a playful shove to his shoulder. “I don’t have floppy ears.”
“I’m kidding. You actually have very cute ears.” He watched as she fingered one of her tiny pearl earrings. And a cute nose. And sweet lips. And … “I’m just saying you can’t get enough of your little guy you love him so much. Even the scent of him.”
Her expression sobered instantly. Suddenly she looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. “And that’s—that’s how much you love baseball?”
“That’s how much I loved baseball.” He nodded. “I’d fall asleep with my mitt covering my face at night, and I’d have it sitting on the table near my cereal bowl each morning. I read everything about the game I could. Played every day, even if I’d have to toss the ball up against the side of the house by myself. There was nothing, not one thing, I wanted to do more. Not one thing I loved better.”
“You keep—you keep saying loved. As in past tense …” She hesitated before she asked, “Are you afraid you won’t play again?”
He smiled. “No, it’s not that. I can feel my elbow is improving all the time, and God willing, it will heal completely. I still love baseball, trust me. It’s still deep in my blood.”
He could tell she wasn’t about to press him, yet he continued anyway. “But I’ve learned success can take something that you love—something simple and pure like throwing a ball over a plate—and make it all complicated and twisted if you let it. And of course, over time, I let it. I let everything get to me. The ups. The downs. The money. The fame. The simple thing I loved got tainted in the process. If I get the chance to play again, I hope I’m smarter than that this time around. I hope I’ve learned my lesson.”
“I bet your uncle enjoyed sharing that success with you though. I bet he was really proud.”
“He was. But, knowing Uncle Jake, I think he’d be even more proud of me today. Now that I’m trying to get back to the basics he taught me. Especially back to the kid-like faith I used to have.”
He couldn’t believe how much he’d said. Things he’d never told anyone else before. Things he’d never felt comfortable sharing. But it seemed in the short walk around the property, they’d come a long way.
And suddenly he realized there was another scent he was falling in love with. The scent of Megan. Sweet as the blossoms on the purple bush that blossomed outside his bedroom window all through the month of May. Fresh as the sunshine warming the back of his neck as he stood facing her. Megan, so wholesome and pure, like no other woman he’d ever known. Megan, with eyes he wanted to get lost in, who went through every day not seeing how beautiful she was inside and out.
Like the young boy who wanted to know everything about the sport he loved, he was a grown man who wanted to know everything about the woman in front of him. He wanted so badly to touch her face, her hair—to know what those lips that drove him beyond crazy would feel like pressed against his.
Placing his hand on the trunk of the mighty oak tree, next to her shoulder, he started to lean toward her.
He’d never asked permission to kiss a girl before. Women had always given themselves up willingly to him. But Megan wasn’t just any woman. With her, it felt only right to ask for such a perfect gift.
Her lips seemed to part in expectation as he stepped closer still. Her hands came up, covering his chest.
In every way she appeared as ready as he was. Still, he wanted to be sure. He wanted to ask.
“Megan, may I …”
But before he could get the rest of the words from his mouth, she screamed. She pushed hard at his chest, shoving him away.
Chapter 11
What do you think, Meg?”
Later the next afternoon, Megan gazed at her mom who stood outside the dressing room in a glittery, pearl-white gown, balancing herself on her tiptoes.
“This dress? Or did you like the blue one better?” Her mom worried her lip, but even as she did so, she couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling up inside her. “Oh, I can’t even remember the last time your dad and I had a black-tie affair to go to,” she said, sounding as giddy as one of the high school girls Megan imagined her father counseling. “Whose idea was it anyway? To have a black-tie fundraiser for your sports day event? Wendy Slater’s? I’ve told you the story, haven’t I, how we gals at We Do! got Wendy and Ted together?”
Megan could not only see her mother clearly from where she sat in the mauve retro-round accent chair in Sophistic
ates Boutique, she could hear her plainly, too. But focusing on her mom’s words was a whole other matter. And trying to decipher which of her mother’s questions to answer first, even more challenging. Her mind was still far away, high up in the clouds. Still trying to wrap itself around the fact that she’d almost kissed MacNeill Hattaway.
Almost. Kissed. Mac.
Her mind wouldn’t stop repeating the news to her heart—as if her heart needed any more reminding. As it was, it felt like it’d been positively beating out of her chest all day long.
“Megan, are you feeling okay?” Her mom came down on the balls of her feet, the gown swishing as she leaned forward. “Your cheeks look so flushed, honey, and you don’t seem to be very ‘with it’ today. Have you been taking your vitamins? How’s your sleep been lately?”
“I’m fine. Really, no worries, Mom. I’m good.”
Even though, no, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Again. But there was no way she was going to mention that to her mom, who would only ask why. And what would Megan tell her? That she’d been awake most of the night, wondering about Mac once more? This time, imagining what it might have been like to actually kiss him?
Her mom would be so thrilled she’d want to throw a party for all of Loveland—or assemble a parade, complete with a marching band to traipse down the main street of town.
So, no, the almost-kiss with Mac had to remain a secret for now. One she could barely believe herself.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay …” Her mom tilted her head.
“I’m sure,” Megan replied as convincingly as she could, not wanting to cause any worry. After all, her mom was so excited for them to be spending an afternoon together. Her dad had taken Sammy for the day, giving her and her mom time to have a leisurely salad at Paxton’s and to visit with Allie before wandering into Sophisticates a few blocks over. Even though the fundraiser dance was still many weeks away, Mom was determined to make the most of their excursion.
“Well then, which dress works best?” Her mom poised a forefinger thoughtfully to her cheek. “Your dad really likes me in blue. But I don’t know. The blue dress was more elegant. This dress is more glitzy.”
“Can you try on the blue one again so I can make a better comparison?”
If truth be known, Megan had been daydreaming so much, she hadn’t really zeroed in on the blue formal the first time around. Luckily, her mom hadn’t noticed and looked more than happy to oblige. “Good idea!” She headed back into the dressing room.
Good idea…. Megan settled back against the throw pillows once more. Really, had it been a good idea? To let Mac get so close to her?
But then … it had all happened so quickly. One minute she was leaning up against the tree and they were talking, and the next minute he was moving closer and closer.
And she didn’t do anything to try to stop him because—well, because during the hours they’d spent together he’d been so tender and sensitive. So much so, she found herself crazily wondering if his lips would feel that way, too. And then, when he started to ask permission to kiss her, it was so sweet. A side of Mac she never knew existed. In response, she couldn’t help but tilt her head up toward his. As she did, that’s when she heard the rustling in a patch of trees just off to the side of where they were standing.
That’s when she spotted a man through the trees holding a camera, aimed in their direction.
That’s when instead of kissing Mac’s lips, she screamed bloody murder right into his ears.
She cringed at the very thought, then straightened abruptly as her mom slipped out of the dressing room.
“Here I am in blue again.” She rose up on her tiptoes once more. “I’m just not sure.” She smoothed the front of the satin gown. “Are you?”
Sure? Megan wasn’t sure about anything these days. So confused that she’d actually prayed the night before—for herself. Something rare for her. But she needed some kind of clarity. Badly. She wasn’t sure what to think at all about the feelings washing over her heart lately. Where was it all coming from?
After Mac’s attempt at kissing her was interrupted, he went chasing after the intruder, and she went running to make sure Sammy was all right. She really wanted to believe it when Mac came back out of breath, apologizing for her having been frightened. She really wanted to trust him when he told her he’d had the same thing happen a couple of times since he’d lived there, but he hadn’t done anything because he didn’t like the idea of putting barbed wire around the property. Deep down, she really wanted it to be true that he hadn’t hired someone to take a picture of them together—that it wasn’t a part of some crazy publicity stunt.
Yes, she wanted to believe him, and the weirdest part was, she wasn’t even sure why. The only thing she knew for certain is that after the awkward incident she doubted Mac would ever want to try to kiss her again. He probably thought she was some kind of excitable nut case. And who could blame him?
On a simpler note, the other thing she could be sure of—now that she was forcing herself to concentrate—was the best dress for her mother.
“Dad’s right, Mom. Blue is definitely your color. That gown makes your eyes pop, and it’s a great style for you. You’re such a young-looking nana.”
“Wow! Do you really think so? I guess it’s worth every penny then.”
Her mom beamed as she headed back to the dressing room, but before she slid back the curtain, she turned. “Are you sure you don’t want to try on a few dresses while we’re here?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Oh, come on. We have time. How often do you and I get to shop like this?”
Megan knew her mom was right and didn’t want to disappoint her. Especially not on their rare mother-daughter day. Plus, she had spied a few dresses she wouldn’t mind trying on.
While her mom changed back into her street clothes and a sales associate took the blue gown they’d decided on up to the counter, Megan sifted through the racks, studying the dresses and price tags. After selecting several possibilities that matched both her criteria, she headed to the dressing room while her mom switched places with her, settling into the mauve chair.
It reminded her of the past, of shopping for homecoming dresses and sorority formals the way her mom oohed and aahed over each selection. But when she tried on a one-shoulder, red satin gown, the look that came over her mom’s face confirmed what she thought.
The dress was definitely the one.
“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” She ran her hand over the expensive-feeling material.
“You’re really pretty. I love how striking it looks with your dark hair. That dress looks like it was made for you, Meg.” Her mom got up from the chair only to crouch down and smooth out the slightly flared hemline. Then she stepped back, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes skimming Megan up and down, up and down, appraisingly.
Megan was sure her mom was considering what shoes would look best with the gown. So it stood to reason her tuna melt lunch did a flip in her stomach when out of nowhere her mom asked, “What about Mac?”
“Mac?” Her cheeks tingled just saying his name. “What about Mac?”
“Is he wearing a white tux or a black one?”
A tux? She almost gulped aloud. Nearly the last thing she wanted to think about was Mac. And the very last thing she wanted to think about was Mac in a tux, and how handsome he’d look in one. “I have no clue, Mom.”
“You mean you’re not going together?”
“Going together? I don’t know. The dance isn’t for weeks.”
“Well, I just assumed you might, being you’re both the co-chairs.”
“Yes, but …”
“I’m just thinking the press and everyone will be taking pictures of the two of you together. But black or white, either color of tux will work well with the red.”
Black or white? Megan wished it was all as simple as that. But just thinking that Mac could be taking someone else to the dance suddenly made her stomach drop
, leaving her feeling all topsy-turvy like a silly young schoolgirl with a crush. That was exactly why she didn’t want to get all caught up in feelings for him or anyone else. She had enough things in her life that she needed to keep under control. Her son and his happiness and welfare. Her job. Her standing in the community. Who had room for anything else? For things like crushes. And kisses. And—she shivered …
“Whatever. I love the dress. I’m getting it.”
“Good. While you get changed, I’m going to check out the evening bags. I haven’t had a new one in eons.” Her mom nodded toward the display of purses by the window. “Wait a minute. Is that—?”
“What?” Megan stepped down from the mirrored platform, peering in the same general direction.
“Is that Janey?” Her mom pointed toward the window.
Instantly, Megan spotted the person her mom was talking about and just as quickly she understood the reason her mom had such a puzzled look on her face.
“It does look like her, doesn’t it?” Megan stuck out her neck to get a better view as the Janey look-alike, pausing to put on a pair of sunglasses, resumed her brisk pace down the sidewalk.
“Exactly like her.”
“But with long red hair. Hmm. That’s weird.”
“Yes … weird.”
She and her mom turned to each other and shrugged, neither able to put the pieces together. Clearly, nothing really was as simple as black and white.
Mac cut the power on the riding lawnmower the moment he caught sight of Bill Helmsley standing in the driveway. Evidently Bill had finished putting together the estimates Mac had asked for.
Sliding off the mower, he brushed some dry blades of grass from his faded jeans as he walked toward Bill, already having a fairly good idea of what the man was about to say before he said it.
“How’s it look?” Mac tipped his baseball cap back on his head.
“Well, I went through the whole house, and I tried to make the estimates as reasonable as I could. But …” Bill sucked in some air and slid several papers from a clipboard, handing them to Mac. He shook his head as he continued. “There’s just not much way around most of the improvements you want to make. It’s an old house, you know? Narrow halls and steep stairways. It’s going to take some money and creativity to make your house wheelchair friendly. That’s all there is to it. But I guess you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Wedding Homerun in Loveland, Ohio Page 11