That was the Mac she knew. That was the Mac she loved. She didn’t even know the baseball-playing Mac. Wasn’t acquainted with the World Series-winning pitcher. She’d only read about that Mac in newspapers and tabloids.
And if Mac started playing ball again, traveling, having women falling at his feet—what then? Even if he could handle that, could she? Could she really handle having a relationship with a celebrity? Someone who could possibly get uprooted, moving from team to team, year to year? Is that the kind of life she wanted for herself? More than anything, is that the kind of life she wanted for Sammy?
And what about Mac? Could she ask him to give it up?
“You okay?” Ellen breezed into the lounge and grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator.
“Stomach’s just a little queasy,” Megan answered truthfully. Probably because she felt like she’d just fallen from the cloud she’d happily been drifting along on for the past few weeks.
But it’s all my fault. All my fault. Sammy and I were just fine. For so many years we’ve kept it together. I’ve kept it together, all under control. And then I did what I said I’d never do. I had to let a man into our lives. And not just any man—but a pro athlete for goodness’ sakes!
“I probably just drank a lot of coffee without enough food.” She shrugged an excuse to her concerned-looking coworker.
“There’s a box of saltines in the cabinet.” Ellen pointed over Megan’s head. “Or I have some yogurt in the fridge. I hope you’re not getting a summer bug or anything. Those are the worst.” Ellen scrunched her nose sympathetically.
Megan sucked in a deep breath. “No, no bug. I’ll be fine.” She drew herself up straight.
She had to be fine. No matter what, for Sammy, she had to be. But, oh, how her chest ached! Everything in her heart wanted Mac … wanted to be close and stay close to the Mac she knew. But doubts and fears weighed in heavily, warning just the opposite. Cautioning her to take a step back. Before it was too late.
Chapter 16
Even hours after the interview, while driving to the team doc’s office for his appointment, Mac was still berating himself for the turn his talk with Ms. Newmark had taken. He sure was out of practice, he thought, as he guided his truck up Columbia Road.
He’d never been that crazy about interviews to begin with. Had never cared for the spotlight much—which he figured most people would probably find hard to believe, considering how much media attention he attracted. But even so, he used to be more adept at steering an interview in the direction he wanted it to go.
Typically, with most female interviewers, he could use his swagger and any number of compliments to get off a sore topic and onto a more palatable one. And with guys, it was generally easy to buddy up and banter about games and statistics till time ran out.
Plus, a lot of interviews were done over the phone now and not at the stations, which didn’t help. It was always better to see who you were facing. Who you were dealing with. Like this Trista Newmark woman.
He stopped at the next intersection and turned the air conditioning down to low, mulling over the woman’s name in his head.
Trista. Trista. Newmark. The name sounded more than vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t fathom why.
Aw well, maybe it’s good I didn’t lay eyes on her. Maybe the woman would’ve turned me to stone. Undoubtedly, she wanted to make things uncomfortable for him for some reason. And she had!
He pushed on the accelerator and at the same moment his cell phone vibrated in the drink holder of the console. He picked it up, glancing at the screen. Hal. He clicked on the phone and didn’t even bother with a hello.
“You were listening, huh?”
“Yeah, obviously Ms. Newmark isn’t a fan of yours.”
“Uh, that’s putting it mildly.” Mac chuckled. “It’s okay though. I’m a little rusty fending off touchy subjects. But I’ll get my chops back. Plus it didn’t help that she caught me off guard the second time around with that business about getting traded. Wonder where that came from?” he asked—as if he didn’t know.
“It never hurts to leak a rumor here and there, Mac.”
“Rumors. Aren’t those sort of like lies, Hal?”
“No. Look it up in the dictionary. A rumor is an unverified story, and stories are fiction. It’s the nature of the game. Keeps your name in the news.”
Good old Hal. He never gave it a rest. “You could’ve warned me.”
“Yeah well, even so, you pulled it off. You were getting your act together by the end there …” Hal’s voice drifted momentarily. “You on your way to Kline’s office?”
“I’m pulling in as we speak.”
Making a right turn into Dr. Kline’s lot, Mac parked his truck in the reserved section alongside the red brick medical building.
“Let me know how it goes,” Hal requested. “Actually, I’ll call you back in an hour to hear what I’m already programming to be fantastic news, okay?”
Mac half smiled. “Sounds good,” he assured him before clicking off the phone and cutting the ignition. Sliding out of the truck, he scuffed over the pavement in his sandals, realizing for the first time that morning that his stomach felt nervous.
Who knew what news Dr. Kline would have for him? He thought his elbow was feeling better. Feeling fine actually. But it really wasn’t up to him whether he’d be okayed to play ball again. And that’s what the appointment was all about.
It is what it is, right, Lord?
He had all the faith in the world that God would see him through any answer the doc gave him. Still, he paused on the sidewalk a moment, rolled his shoulders back, and inhaled deeply before he slipped into the side entrance of the facility designated for Hawks players and other pro athletes.
Immediately, a receptionist welcomed him and ushered him into an examination room reserved for pro athletes under Dr. Kline’s care. It was only minutes before the orthopedic surgeon bustled into the room.
“What’s up with those Hawks?” the doctor asked, by way of a greeting. He extended his right hand, and Mac reached out to shake it, always appreciative of how the busy Dr. Kline made sure to make eye contact.
“They’re doing fairly decent.”
“Yeah, decent is the word for it. But not great.”
“Ah. There’re some new guys on the team. Young ones. But they’ll get it together.”
“Let’s hope.” The doctor rolled his eyes. “So how’s the elbow?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
Mac extended his arm again, and this time the doctor took a few minutes to examine it thoroughly.
“Everything feels good. And looks good. How does it feel to you?”
Mac shrugged. “I’ve been whittling and doing some work at the farm. I feel like the physical labor has been building it up lately, not breaking it down.”
“Farm work, huh?” The doctor smiled, clearly amused but also looking at Mac more respectfully than Mac had ever noticed before. “Think you might want to leave the cow pasture behind and get back out on the mound again?”
“Are you asking me, Doc? Or telling me?”
“I’m telling you, Mac. Considering all that arm of yours went through in the accident, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to say this—but you’re cleared to pitch again.” Dr. Kline patted him on the back. “You’re good to go, number sixty-one.”
“Thanks, Doc. I mean it. Really, thanks,” he kept repeating, stunned. Excited. And relieved.
In fact, all the way out to his truck, it didn’t feel like his feet touched the ground. He couldn’t believe that in less time than it had taken for Trista Newmark to drag him through his past, Dr. Kline had given him hope for his future. A chance to play ball again.
He hadn’t bothered to tell Megan about his appointment, not even knowing if anything would come of his visit to Dr. Kline, figuring he’d deal with it on his own. But now, hopping into his Ford, he reached into the console for his phone and started to call her, wanting
to share the good news with her. And her alone.
But then he stopped himself.
She’d be working and most likely wouldn’t pick up her phone anyway. And besides that, he decided, getting his elbow cleared was big news. Really big. The kind of news you tell in person. To a person you care about.
He’d try to keep quiet about it until he saw her the next time, although he wasn’t sure when that would be. She’d be busy having dinner with Janey later and he’d be busy, sneaking Sammy out to practice bowling.
Still and all, there was another someone he needed to talk to, wasn’t there? A conversation that couldn’t wait. So he drove to the nearest church he could find and luckily found its doors unlocked. He wanted to get down on his knees and give thanks and praise. He wanted to ask for forgiveness once again, too.
Because while sitting in Dr. Kline’s office he’d finally remembered why Trista’s name sounded so familiar. And why she probably had been harsh with him. Trista had a younger sister named Trina whose heart he had played games with years ago. But those weren’t the kinds of games he wanted to play again. No, not anymore.
Megan eyed the row of blue umbrellas topping Paxton’s outdoor café tables. “Do you want to eat dinner inside or out?” she asked Janey.
“Oh, let’s try outside. I’ve been inside all day. Or, no.” Janey changed her mind. As usual. “It’s still kind of hot out here. Why don’t we go in?”
“In is good,” Megan agreed wholeheartedly, pulling open the old-style wood door of the grill.
She was more than glad to escape the oppressive heat of the evening. Her head had been pounding for hours as if Colonel Thomas Paxton’s entire eighteenth century militia had been marching across it. After the day she’d had, to say she was plain worn out emotionally and physically was an understatement. She was more than ready for any creature comforts and could feel her body relax a bit and go “ah” at the cool feel of the restaurant’s air conditioning. The cushioned booth she and Janey settled into felt heavenly to her tired limbs.
More feelings of well-being spread through her when silver-haired Geneva, who’d been serving at Paxton’s since Megan was a teenager, came to the table bearing two icy cold glasses of water with lemon. “Hot out there, isn’t it, girls?”
“I hope the weather lady is right.” Janey nodded. “I hope we get some of the cooler weather she’s been promising.”
“It’s getting closer to back-to-school time.” Geneva slipped two straws from the hip pocket of her khaki capris and laid them on the table. “Things should be getting cooler soon,” she said as her eyes lit on Megan. “So … do you know what you want, hon?”
“I—I …” Megan could feel her mind still reeling from the events of the day. For a moment she almost forgot Geneva was asking about food and not something more philosophical as in what she wanted out of life and love in her pursuit of happiness. But then the question clicked. “I’ll just have the usual,” she finally replied.
“One grilled chicken Caesar salad coming right up.” Geneva nodded before turning to Janey. “And are you trying another wrap tonight?” She winked knowingly.
“Why not? I’m almost through the list. How about the Big Veggie Wrap? That sounds good.”
“They are good.” Geneva’s eyes widened reassuringly.
“Is Allie working tonight?” Megan asked before Geneva could slip away. No doubt she needed some ibuprofen for her headache. But a dose of Allie’s company could always work wonders.
“Yeah, she’s in the back.” Geneva pointed toward the kitchen. “Covering for our dishwasher who has the flu.” She rolled her eyes as if she might not believe that excuse. “I’ll tell her you gals are here. I’m sure she’d like an excuse to take off her rubber gloves and say hi.”
As Geneva walked away, Megan pulled her purse onto her lap and reached into the deep pocketbook, feeling around for her container of ibuprofen.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” Janey asked when she pulled out the plastic bottle. “I know I can be a real pain.”
“Oh no, it’s not you.” Megan gave a soft smile at her friend’s self-deprecating humor. “It’s just—it’s been a day.”
Not only had she endured Mac’s interview, but an hour later, Dan Hoffman had come in singing Mac’s praises throughout his entire therapy session. Everything he’d had to say was true, but she’d been trying to get Mac off her mind by working instead of being reminded of him every second of work.
But that hadn’t happened. Not even when Dan’s session was up. Someone else tuned into the Hawks’ afternoon game, which led to more chatter about baseball and their fellow Loveland-ite Mac. By the time she’d seen more patients, picked up Sammy from day care, and driven to her parents’ house, all she wanted to do was take a few minutes to put her feet up on the couch before meeting up with Janey. But her mom had rushed her out of the house as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
She sighed, opened the ibuprofen, and shook out a pill. It wasn’t until then that she remembered how the entire day had started—with her crazy trip to Donut Emporium. How could she have forgotten that?
“By the way, I did it,” she told her friend.
“Did what?”
“I dropped into Donut Emporium for you.”
“You did?” Janey’s eyes darted from side to side as if someone nearby might hear what they were talking about. Of course, Megan could’ve told her that no one did hear, and no one cared to hear either. “What did you think?” her friend leaned forward, looking overly conspiratorial.
“About the place?” Megan lifted a shoulder. “It’s, you know, it’s a doughnut shop. I mean, it’s super clean and he had his cute little niece Rachel greeting people. And I suppose it’s in a good location. I mean, if a person needs to stop and get gas, too. But again, Janey, when it comes to your bakery, it’s like I told you before—they’re two different things.”
“Was he there? Did you see him?”
“He, Sean? Oh yes, my dear friend, he was there.”
Thinking back on the conversation with Sean and how she’d evaded the truth made her head hurt even more. She shook out another pill. Placing the tablets on her tongue, she gulped them down with some icy water.
Meanwhile, Janey’s lips pursed together tightly. A look of ill ease contorted her face.
“Janey, I really can’t imagine that you don’t think Sean’s cute.”
“Cute?” Her friend’s eyes grew wide. “How can I think he’s cute? He’s the competition, Megan. And that’s the only way I need to see him—as the competition.”
Megan shook her head. “He’s not really, you know. He’s not actually trying to compete.”
“How can you say that?”
“He’s just a guy with dreams.” Megan shrugged, recalling her conversation with Sean. “Just a guy who would like to open a restaurant but had to settle for a doughnut shop for the time being. It’s really not that complicated.”
“You’re siding with him?” A pouting lip immediately erupted on Janey’s face.
“Of course not. If I were, I certainly wouldn’t have evaded his questions this morning.”
“You told a lie?”
“Well, I didn’t tell the whole truth, that’s for sure. He asked me if I knew a redhead who’d been coming into his shop. And then he described you.” Taking a packet of crackers from the condiment basket, Megan tore at the wrapper. “I have to warn you, he had that funny look in his eyes. Like he’ll probably ask you out if you ever go in there again, Red. So you’d better be careful about traipsing into the Emporium. Or be prepared with a reason why you can’t date him.”
Megan bit into a cracker, brushed away some crumbs that had fallen on the table, and then looked up at Janey—whose cheeks were unusually flushed. More like on fire. “Oh my gosh!” The realization hit her. “That’s your plan?” She sputtered cracker crumbs into the air. “You want him to ask you out? So then you can stand him up the way you think he stood you up at prom?”
>
Instantly her friend scooted back from the table, looking sheepish. But it took a few moments and some direct staring into her eyes before Janey came clean. “Okay, yes. Yes, it had crossed my mind to pay him back. But then I realized that’s just silly and petty, and that it’s about more than that. It’s about business. It’s about Sweet Sensations.”
“Hmm. All about business, huh?”
Even that didn’t ring true to Megan. She knew her friend would never intentionally harm anyone, but she also knew the girl had a penchant for winning. Janey Saunders hated to lose at anything—whether it was a game of tennis, making muffins, or having the upper hand in a relationship.
If Janey wasn’t deliberately trying to even an old score with Sean then it could only mean one other thing. Something Megan should’ve recognized in her friend much sooner. Especially considering she’d done pretty much the same thing with Mac, protesting wildly about him to anyone who mentioned his name when he’d first come into her life.
“And you’re sure it’s not about any other ‘sensations?’ ” She stressed the word long and clear. “Maybe some you’re feeling for Sean?” Megan cracked a smile at her friend.
But Janey only frowned. And groaned. “Oh Megan … what have I done? Even if I had some, well, interest in Sean—I mean what do I do at this point? Whip off my red wig and say, ‘Surprise! It’s me, Janey!’ He’d think I was crazy.”
“He already thinks you’re—” Hurriedly, she stuffed the uneaten half of the cracker in her mouth to stop from saying more.
“Already thinks what?”
Megan worked to swallow the dry thing. “That you’re—c–cute.”
“You mean he thinks the redheaded girl is cute.”
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Wedding Homerun in Loveland, Ohio Page 17