And if she happened to run into Jack at the coffee shop or something, so what? It had been seven years since he’d seen her. She’d been a teenager, her hair long, skin tan, body about fifteen pounds lighter. She’d been just one fling out of probably dozens he’d had over the years. Maybe even hundreds. She read People. She saw the tabloid headlines.
He’d never remember her. She had nothing to worry about. She reached over and rubbed Lindsey’s arm.
Beth’s gaze rarely wavered from Jack’s form, where he squatted low behind home plate. She wondered how he could hold that position for so long, with his surgery barely nine months ago. Not that she’d been following his career or paying attention or anything.
In the second inning, the batter on the opposing team popped a ball high in the air, near home plate. Jack ran backwards toward the stands, his glove up, his other hand shielding his eyes from the lights. A little boy seated in the first row hung far over the railing, glove out, trying to catch the ball. Jack reached out at the last minute and caught the ball right over the kid’s glove, landing the last out of the inning. The crowd roared at the great play, but little boy’s shoulders slumped. Without skipping a beat, Jack handed the boy the ball, rubbed the kid’s head, then sprinted back to home plate. The crowd cheered even louder.
Dammit. Why did Jack have to do something so nice? Why couldn’t he have just ignored the child and gone back to the game? She didn’t need “nice” thoughts of Jack McCauley crowding her mind.
He’d broken her heart.
He’d left her when she needed him most.
Take that, nice thoughts!
At the end of the fourth inning, the PA announced a new catcher at the plate. Beth scanned the dugout, searching for Jack, hoping he was okay, that he hadn’t overdone it with his knee.
Stop it! she scolded herself. Not your problem, not your concern. Still, she couldn’t help herself as she continued to watch for him, but he’d obviously headed back to the locker room.
At the top of the eighth inning, with two outs, a Rapids batter crushed one toward left field. The ball rose higher and the crowd around her stood, all hands lifted in the air. It was coming straight for them. Oh, God.
Panic shot through Beth, even though the chance of Lindsey actually catching the ball in this crowd was slim to none. The crowd roared. Lindsey stood on her seat and stretched out her arms, reaching higher and higher as the ball of doom flew toward them. Beth’s heart stopped beating. Lindsey shrieked in excitement.
And the elderly man next to them caught it with his bare hands.
Oh, thank God. Beth’s heart pounded a million miles an hour beneath her ribcage. She sunk back onto the cold aluminum bench, her pulse slowing and the apprehension receding. She was dimly aware of the pandemonium in the stands for the homerun. She and Lindsey were probably the only fans not screaming and cheering.
Lindsey. The crestfallen look on her daughter’s face made Beth feel about an inch tall. “Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry. That was really exciting. You almost caught it.”
Lindsey’s shoulders slumped and her bottom lip quivered. “If I was tall as Kitty Benjamin, I woulda caught it.”
Beth wrapped an arm around her shoulders as the batter rounded the bases. “I know, sweetie.”
The elderly man seated next to Lindsey leaned forward and held the ball out to her. “Do you want this, honey? You seem like a really big fan. You’d probably enjoy meeting the players more than I would.”
No!
Lindsey reached for the baseball as if reaching for a priceless treasure. Slowly, she pulled the ball toward her, staring at it with wide eyes. “Really? I can have this? Thank you!”
Her daughter’s awe and astonishment brought both pleasure and pain to Beth’s heart. She leaned across Lindsey. “Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how much this means to her.” And how much this is freaking me out right now.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and nodded toward Lindsey, who hadn’t taken her gaze from the ball. “Oh, I have an idea.”
The rest of the game passed in a blur. After the last out and the scoreboard read Rapids 1, Bluesox 2, the PA announced for anyone holding a game ball to come to the pitcher’s mound to have their balls signed by the players.
“Breathe, Beth,” she muttered to herself as she and Lindsey slowly descended the stadium stairs with the rest of the crowd. The positive atmosphere hadn’t been diminished by the loss. “It was just the first game,” someone said. “At least Jack-Mack is back,” someone else said.
Couldn’t anyone tell her life was flashing before her very eyes? She was dying here, people. The closer they got to the stadium floor, the tighter her chest squeezed.
She tried to come up with an excuse why they couldn’t get Lindsey’s ball signed. But she couldn’t come up with anything other than, “Because I said so,” which wouldn’t be fair to her daughter, nor would it be very nice.
Surely, all the players wouldn’t hang around to sign balls, would they? The new players, sure, because for them, this was a big deal. But Jack had been around a while. He was a multi-millionaire. Signing balls was nothing to him. He probably sold his autographs on eBay. No. He wouldn’t even be there. She could stop freaking out. He’d left the game early—maybe he’d already left the stadium, too.
She could only hope.
She spotted Zoey and her friend through the crowd. Wait. Zoey! She waved the girls over. “Hey, Zoey. You want to meet the players, right?”
With a tight grip on Lindsey’s hand, Beth moved her excited group through the crowd inching toward the exits and finally found the gate leading to the infield. Lindsey showed the Rapids security officer the game ball and they were escorted through.
Lindsey and the teenagers could barely contain themselves as they walked onto the infield. Beth scanned the receiving line of players and didn’t see Jack. Her pulse slowed down just a smidge. She placed Lindsey’s hand into Zoey’s. “I’ll be right over here,” she said, motioning toward the gate where they’d come in. The girls practically sprinted toward the players.
The stadium lights shone down on them, illuminating the grassy diamond. She glanced around and squinted against the brightness. How on earth could the players see a fly ball coming at them with those lights in the way?
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said from behind her, and a player rushed past, his shoulder brushing against her arm.
Beth froze. She knew that voice. A murmur spread through the crowd and somebody said, “Jack-Mack’s here!” That same player took his place at the end of the line and smiled at the crowd. Jack. She pressed her hand to the place where he’d inadvertently touched her.
Jack McCauley stood not twenty feet away. Her first love. The man who’d broken her heart. The man who could up-end their lives, if he so chose. For a moment, all she could do was stare. Her lungs compressed like she’d been sucked into a vortex. Breathe in. Now breathe out. Oh, yeah. Breathe in again.
She remembered that easy smile, the way his gray-blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the confident way he carried himself. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if that would slow her racing heart.
Sick to her stomach, she slanted her face toward the ground and tugged the cap lower on her head.
***
How many more balls did he have to sign? He loved meeting his fans—they were a big part of what made this game so great—but all this standing was killing him. His knee needed a heavy icepack and a handful of ibuprofen, and it needed those things now if not sooner. He glanced around at the dwindling crowd and was glad to see there weren’t too many more fans waiting. Ryan Cooper was first in the line of players and was currently occupied with a hot blonde wearing a bright pink jacket. Jack smirked. Oh, to be young and dumb again.
He adjusted his stance to take some pressure off his leg, then looked down at the next fan in front of him.
“Jack-Mack, you’re my favorite player in the whole wide world.” The little girl held out he
r baseball as she bounced up and down on her toes.
Her Rapids cap shaded sparkly sunglasses that were several sizes too big for her freckled face. “My name is Lindsey Faye Darrow.”
Jack took the ball from her hand and scribbled his name on the leather as she continued jabbering.
He had no idea how old this kid was—he wasn’t really a kid person—but he’d guess her around seven or eight. She was missing her two front teeth. Kids this age just weren’t all that cute. When he handed her back the ball, she gave him a gigantic smile that stretched across her entire face, and an odd sense of déjà vu swept over him. He shook it off.
“Thank you, Jack-Mack!” And she threw herself at him, wrapping her scrawny arms around his waist. He couldn’t remember what she’d said her name was. Lisa? Lorie? Hmm. He guessed it didn’t matter. He remembered her middle name though. Faye. His mother’s name.
He patted her on the head. The little girl skipped away. She was kind of cute, he supposed. For a kid.
The child’s energy revitalized him, reminded him why he was here—it was all about the fans. He could do this. Just another few minutes.
His gaze landed briefly upon a tall, slender woman who stood alone near the gate. Her eyes widened as they met his. Shock and recognition warmed his gut like a shot of good whiskey.
Beth?
Some fans blocked his view for a moment, and when they moved, the woman was gone.
Chapter Two
Beth sat on the edge of Lindsey’s bed and watched her sleep. Tension coiled through her muscles, her nerves strung tighter than a hyper-tuned violin. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God, raced through her head.
Jack McCauley was back in town. What if he found out about Lindsey? It could ruin her life. It would ruin Beth’s life. Her stomach twisted.
Lindsey had talked to him. Lindsey had hugged him. Beth closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. Relax.
She was getting ahead of herself here. Needing to chill out, she brushed the light brown bangs off her daughter’s sleeping face, hair the exact color as Jack’s. She hadn’t realized. And father and daughter shared the same gray-blue eyes. Father and daughter. Beth’s stomach twisted back the other way. She’d made the heart-wrenching decision seven years ago not to tell Jack McCauley about their child. Lindsey grew up thinking David was her dad. It was all she knew.
What would Jack do if he found out about her? Back then, he wouldn’t have handled it well, she knew that for a fact. During their summer together, he’d told her their relationship was only temporary, even though her naïveté had convinced herself she could change his mind about long-term commitments. He’d told her the game always came first, but she hadn’t really believed him.
Then he’d gotten called up into the Big Leagues and dumped her without a backward glance. If she’d told him then about her pregnancy, he would have lumped her in with all the other groupies that followed minor league teams around, hoping to score with a future major-leaguer. He would have thought she’d planned it.
Beth squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the sting of tears. What would happen if Jack found out now? From what she’d read about him online and seen in interviews, despite his numerous romantic liaisons, he seemed like a decent enough guy.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter if he was decent or not. The ramifications to Lindsey were too great. Beth had to protect her daughter at all costs. When Jack McCauley exited her life seven years ago and told her he didn’t have time for a relationship, she honestly never thought she’d see him again. She’d never wanted to see him again.
She couldn’t believe he’d noticed her today. She’d tried so hard to blend into the crowd. Had he recognized her? The surprised expression in his eyes sure told her he had. No matter. Even if he did recognize her, it wasn’t like he’d want to pick up where they’d left off. He was rich and famous. She was a small-town single mom. He dated uber-gorgeous and thin supermodels and actresses. Lots of them, if the tabloids were to be believed. She had stretch-marks and cleaned her own toilets.
She kissed Lindsey’s forehead, and breathed out a more relaxed breath. She had nothing to worry about.
***
Jack adjusted the icepack on his throbbing knee and stared into the night. The condo complex sat on the bluff of the Snohomish River and overlooked the valley, but he saw nothing beyond the panes but slanting rain.
He’d performed okay today in the few innings he’d played. His reflexes weren’t as quick, so he’d have to kick it up a notch in order to prove himself to the team and the Boys Upstairs. He tipped his head back and drained half the bottle of water. As much as he hated being back to square one, so to speak, it felt great to be playing again. The kid, Cooper, had a nice showing. He got the loss, but had thrown a three-hitter. Not bad for a first game.
An image of green eyes and auburn hair flashed into his mind’s eye. Why hadn’t Beth come over tonight and said hello? He remembered her being a bit on the shy side. Maybe she’d thought he’d wouldn’t remember her—it had been what? Six years? Seven?
His mind rewound to the first summer he’d played here. So that would’ve been... seven years ago. The time of his life, playing pro ball for the first time, living his dream. He’d met Beth where she worked at the espresso stand outside the stadium. He had never been much of a caffeine junkie before that, but he grew to love a good cup of joe.
A memory of Beth’s long, bare legs wrapped around his hips shot through him. His body tightened at the recollection and he shifted in his chair. The sense of déjà vu returned. But it felt more like a warning bell. Odd. He had nothing but good memories of Beth. He grinned and downed the rest of the water. Very good memories. She had been a vital part of that summer. Just the outlet he’d needed.
“Let it go, McCauley,” he muttered to himself.
He didn’t have time for anything but the game right now.
***
“Ouch!” Beth winced and jerked as Tara stuck yet another pin into her ribcage.
“Sorry,” her older sister muttered, a line of straight-pins clamped between her lips. “It’s not my fault this dress is too big for you.”
Susie crossed her arms and circled the chair Beth stood on. A couple of times she reached out and smoothed the white satin skirt. Every time a dress came into the store that she might like as her own wedding gown, she had either Tara or Beth model it for her. “The bodice is kind of plain, don’t you think? It’s more your style than mine.”
“I think she just said you have boring taste,” Tara said through the pins, glancing up at Beth.
“I did not!” Susie looked mortified at the thought she might have insulted someone. “Beth’s taste is just simpler than mine. You know I like more foofy stuff.”
“Sooz, you’ve always been such a dork,” Tara said, never one to mince words. She stood and took the pins out of her mouth. “Usually, the fiancé comes before the dress. And usually, the dress is the right size.”
“Yeah, I know.” Susie walked around the dress again. “But when I get married someday, I’m absolutely not going to wear a dress in this size.” She waved her hands down her body to prove her point. She stepped back a few paces and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I need to have my goal dress hanging in my closet for motivation. And it has to be no bigger than a size ten.”
Beth slid a glance toward Tara, who raised her brows a notch. It would do no good to get after Susie. Their younger sister truly believed when she found the right wedding dress, the right man would magically appear.
When they were kids, they’d all loved playing dress-up in their parents’ second-hand shop. Every once in a while, a wedding gown or prom dress would arrive, and they’d wait until after hours to try them on and pretend. Beth had fantasized about meeting Prince Charming. Susie had dreamt about the finding the most beautiful dress in the world. And Tara had always thought the dresses would look much prettier in black.
When their parents retired to Arizona, they’d given th
e store to their daughters, who’d turned it into a consignment shop as well as second-hand store. Lately, Do-Overs had gotten in more and more wedding dresses, which delighted Susie, the romantic.
“This dress does nothing for me, but it’s actually perfect for you, Beth.” Susie crossed her arms and settled in front of Beth. “Don’t you think so, Tara?”
“I think she just called you ‘boring’ again,” Tara said, recoiling slightly to avoid Susie’s slapping hand. “But it does look good on you, Beth. Too bad wedding dresses are for weddings, which means getting married, which mean husbands. All of which are highly overrated.”
This time it was Susie with whom Beth shared a look. Beth understood why her older sister was so gun shy, and she couldn’t really blame her. If she’d given up everything in her life for a man only to learn after it was too late that he was married with children, she might be anti-love and -marriage, too.
Beth glanced at her reflection in the three-way mirror in front of her. It was odd seeing herself in a wedding gown. Her wedding to David had been so hasty, there’d been no time to find a nice dress. She’d worn his mother’s. The style hadn’t been all that flattering, but it was free and it had made David and his mom happy, so…
She fingered the lace across the bodice. This dress was awfully pretty in its simplicity.
If she ever got married again, she’d want to do it right. White dress, beautiful veil… the right man this time. Someone who didn’t marry her out of responsibility, because it was the “right thing to do”. Someone who—
Guilt washed over her. That was horribly unfair to David. She looked up and prayed a silent RIP. His intentions had been good—they both had thought they were doing the right thing. The guilt ballooned when Jack’s image flashed through her mind.
She was a terrible, terrible person.
“Earth to Beth.” Susie and Tara stood in front of her, blocking her reflection, staring at her.
Summer on Main Street Page 83