Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

What the hell was wrong with him, thinking about sex when they had much more important things to discuss? Unfortunately, his body seemed to think that sex was the priority. He shifted his stance and hoped to God she didn’t notice his growing problem. He was such an ass.

  Finally, she motioned him to the couch. He sat, moving aside a bright yellow pillow. She stood across the room, wringing her hands as she looked anywhere but at him. Finally, she sat in a wooden rocking chair, the furthest seat away from him.

  Silence stretched between them. Jack ran his fingers through his hair. Beth watched him, a concerned expression on her pretty face.

  “What do you plan to do?” she finally asked. “I mean now that you know about, um, Lindsey.”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, Beth, I don’t know. I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I have a, ah…” The word lodged in his throat. He could barely think the word, let alone say it out loud.

  His gaze strayed to the mantel over the white-brick fireplace, heavy with an assortment of odd-shaped vases and framed photographs. If the number of photos of one’s child was a measure of a parent’s love, then Lindsey was one very loved little girl.

  He stood and crossed the small room to get a better look. His attention went first to Lindsey’s baseball photo, the same one he’d seen in Beth’s office. She looked so much like his sister Paula it was uncanny. God. She and his mother would flip out if they knew he had a child.

  No.

  He didn’t have a child.

  Beth had a child.

  A strange feeling bounced around his gut. He didn’t know what it meant. But he didn’t especially like it.

  There were photos of Lindsey doing everything from riding her bike, to lying on the floor watching TV to playing baseball.

  Those were the only photos his parents had of him in their house—his baseball pictures. Because that’s all that mattered to them— well, to his dad. None of his other interests as a child were important. He’d actually had no other interests. From the time he was old enough to hold a ball, his dad had made sure Jack’s focus was on the game. Nothing else.

  Jack paused on a wedding portrait. Beth stood next to a man wearing a basic black tux. Jack’s heart squeezed and his jaw clenched. Beth’s hair, still long back then, cascaded from a simple headpiece down her shoulders in rich auburn waves. The white dress showed off her summer tan as she stared past the camera, a distant look in her eyes. He remembered her sister mentioning Beth was single.

  He still didn’t understand why he’d been relieved to hear that. Was still relieved. Or why seeing her wedding photo really bothered him. He cleared his throat and nodded to the portrait. “You were married.”

  She didn’t respond so he turned to find her staring over his shoulder, at the photo. Her expression was sad.

  There was only one reason a single woman would display her wedding portrait, and why she would be sad when she looked at it.

  “David died last spring,” she said softly.

  Because she was widowed. Jack let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Damn. “Beth, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  She shrugged. “How could you?”

  Jack returned his attention to the photo, and her late husband. David was about the same height as Beth, and fairly slight through the shoulders. His red hair was brighter than Beth’s auburn color. He looked a bit like Richie Cunningham from the old Happy Days reruns his mom used to watch on TV when he was a kid.

  His gaze moved to Beth’s image. She looked beautiful, as he would expect a bride to be, but her expression was… off. She almost looked… sad. Had David been a good husband to her?

  Had he been a good father to Lindsey? He damn well better have. The sudden strong feelings shocked Jack. “How did Lindsey take David’s death?”

  She let out a loud breath. “It was hard. She didn’t understand at first, kept asking when he was coming back. She’s doing okay now, although she still has her moments of missing him of course.”

  God. Poor little thing.

  What would he have done if Beth had told him about the baby back seven years ago? He would have supported her, of course, done the right thing financially. But beyond that? Would he have offered to marry her? Would that have been him in the photograph? Just the thought twisted his gut.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” He turned. Her gaze darted away, toward the front windows.

  “I tried.”

  “What do you mean, you tried? You had the choice to tell me or not. There’s no middle ground.”

  “I found out I was pregnant the very same day you got called up to the majors. Do you remember when you told me?”

  He did. She was the first person he’d called after his parents.

  “You were so excited. You were realizing your dream. You made the comment that the players who made it big in the majors were those who put the game first above all else.”

  That sounded like something he would’ve said back then. Something his father would have said. Hell, it was something both of them would still say now.

  “You told me you needed to focus on your career, not a relationship. ‘I don’t have time for this right now,’ were your exact words, I think.” Bitterness tinged her voice.

  When she put it that way, it sounded so selfish. But in a way, he had been. Still was. He did put the game first. It was the only way he knew how to live.

  “You said you’d call me when things calmed down.” She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “I remember the stories you told me about groupies, and girls trying to trap players. I didn’t want you to think that was my plan. So I didn’t tell you. I’d known David and his family since I was a little girl. He and I been good friends since kindergarten. One night, he got it out of me what was wrong. He offered to marry me and I agreed. But I told myself if you called me, I’d tell you about the baby and I’d call off the wedding.”

  “I did call you.” He still remembered that.

  She smiled a small smile. “Sure. Six months later, way after the season was over.”

  Guilt slammed against him. “I didn’t call you for six months?”

  She shook her head. “Do you remember that story Sports Illustrated did about you and your dad?”

  He nodded. The issue came out soon after he’d started playing in San Diego. He’d framed the cover and hung it in his home office.

  “The writer asked you if you had a girlfriend. You told him your only love right then was baseball and until you met a girl you loved more than the game, you’d stay happily single.”

  He shrugged. “I still feel that way.” What was she getting at?

  “Jack.” Her voice was soft. Sad. “You did the interview when we were still together.”

  He did? Shit. Well, this was awkward.

  He scratched the area behind his ear. “I never lied to you or promised you anything more than our summer together.” At least, he didn’t think he had. He was so head over heels for her that summer, maybe he had promised her the moon.

  She held up her hands. “I know you didn’t. I’m not blaming you, or trying to make you feel bad.” She gave a small smile. “Well, maybe I am. Just a little.” She tugged her sleeves down over her hands. “Anyway, by the time you finally called me, I was already married and everyone assumed I was having David’s child. I could’ve told you then, I suppose.” She played with her hands in her lap, then sat on them. “But I’d just read that interview, and I knew you wouldn’t love my baby as much as she deserved to be loved. So I didn’t tell you.”

  No, that didn’t feel like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. God.

  It was hard to be too angry with her now that he knew the truth. Both of them had made mistakes. Both of them had made poor choices. And he, as usual, had been a selfish ass.

  Silence pervaded the room. He rattled the coins in his jeans pocket. He stared at the pictures on the mantle. He watched a tiny spider crawl up the wall, behind one
of the framed photos. Beth either didn’t see it or she’d gotten over her debilitating fear of spiders.

  He remembered one time, they’d been in the woods beside the Snohomish River, down there to fool around. Beth had walked through a spider web and totally freaked out. She’d made him check her head to toe for spiders. He’d ended up checking her head to toe for other reasons. It was the first time he’d gotten to second base with her.

  He’d loved spiders ever since. Couldn’t look at a spider web without thinking about Beth.

  He knew that probably made him fucked up. Especially, as he was getting hard again now. Damn, what was it about this woman? His body was reverting back to his horny teenage years with her, when he’d get hard if the wind blew just right.

  “Look,” she finally said, interrupting his untimely and completely inappropriate thoughts. “You don’t need to feel obligated to be part of Lindsey’s life. It’s obvious this isn’t something you want, or something you have time for.” Her tone rankled with sarcasm.

  He wondered how many times she’d throw that line back at him, even if it had been an asshole thing for him to say. He sat back on the couch. “I apologized for saying that.”

  “Yes, but I think you meant it.”

  He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know the first thing about being a father, and I don’t know that it’s a role I’m ready to step into now or ever. But this isn’t about me, it’s about her.”

  “So… are you saying you don’t want to be part of her life?” Dammit if Beth’s voice didn’t sound hopeful.

  He clenched his teeth to bite back an angry retort. “I’m saying I don’t want to make any snap decisions.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning toward her. He noticed how she leaned back, away from him, ever so slightly. “Just… give me some time for this to sink in, okay?”

  It was a moment before she answered. “Lindsey’s been through a lot in the last couple of years. First, David died. Then we moved to a new town, a new house. The last thing she needs is—”

  “—is someone like me in her life.” His gut clenched as if she’d just kicked him. He stood.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He pushed up the sleeves of his hoody and crossed to the front door. “Yes, it is.” He glanced briefly at the photos on the mantel again. To the wedding photo. To one of Lindsey as a baby with big, round eyes and toothless smile. “You’ve gone to a lot of effort to make sure I never found out about her. But now I know.”

  ***

  Instead of heading back to his condo, Jack headed to the Rapids training center. He’d like nothing better than to hit the heavy weights, because nothing burned off stress and frustration better than pumping some serious iron. But he had a game tonight. He didn’t need noodle arms or legs when he had a few innings squatting behind home plate in front of him. Hopefully, he’d play the entire game tonight.

  He settled for a long ride on the stationary bike, keeping the resistance low so he wouldn’t burn out his quads. He nodded to the few other guys in the gym, but didn’t feel like striking up a conversation with any of them. He wasn’t in the mood to be social. The kid, Ryan, was nowhere in sight. Probably with that girl from Beth’s store. He frowned.

  As Jack settled into an even cadence on the bike, his iPod blasting Aerosmith in his ears, he thought about his conversation with Beth. She hadn’t trusted him with her daughter seven years ago and she apparently wasn’t about to start now. Anger coursed through his veins and he sped up his tempo on the pedals.

  But just as quickly as the anger blossomed, it dissipated, leaving hurt in its place. She’d implied he wasn’t good enough to be in Lindsey’s life. That stung.

  But she was right.

  She was smart to be wary of him. She didn’t know him from Adam any more. She had her little girl to think about. Lindsey was what mattered. Not him.

  Like a typical guy, he wasn’t usually one to analyze his feelings, but even if he wanted to analyze his feelings right now, he wouldn’t be able to. They made no sense. On the one hand, he felt... nothing. Numbness where his heart should be. He was pretty sure that didn’t say much about his character.

  Kyle, his agent, had told him on more than one occasion that his ability to set aside all his personal feelings and relationships was what made him and his father so great at what they did. No matter what was going on in their lives, the game came first. Period.

  That’s why all his personal relationships were temporary. He didn’t have time for permanent. Permanent required things like sacrifice and changing his priorities.

  That’s why, despite his attraction to Beth, that’s as far as it would go.

  But Lindsey...

  Shit.

  Did she really need him in her life? Probably not.

  But... he wanted to meet her. Sure, he’d met her briefly before. But that was when she’d just been another kid in the crowd, just another fan.

  He wanted to see her again. Knowing who she was now, he needed to see her again.

  ***

  Beth waited until the players trickled out of the stadium after the game, then exited her car and tugged her hood over her head. The streetlight she’d parked next to illuminated the soft drizzle falling from the sky, more like a heavy mist than rain. Typical Pacific Northwest weather.

  The lit-up scoreboard beyond the fence said the Rapids had lost by three runs. Jack would be in a worse mood than he was when he left her place this morning.

  His mood certainly wouldn’t improve when he saw her.

  She spotted him walking and joking around with some of his younger teammates. They didn’t appear too distraught by their loss. She wondered how Jack felt about being sent back to the minors. Was it a bruise to his ego? Was he upset? She had no idea, because they hadn’t talked about anything other than Lindsey. And when they’d talked about her, they’d argued. The mood between them certainly hadn’t been conducive to catching up on each other’s lives.

  Jack’s hair was damp and looked like he’d just combed his fingers through it. So, he was wet from getting rained on in the game… or he’d just been naked in the shower.

  Her face heated up. She remembered the one time they’d showered together. She’d gone to his apartment after a game. He’d left a note on the front door telling her to let herself in if he didn’t answer her knock. Once inside, she’d heard the shower going in the bathroom. She opened the door a crack and told him she was there. Next thing she knew, he’d reached out and pulled her into the shower, fully clothed. That didn’t last long. The fully clothed part.

  She had to stop thinking about him like that. She wasn’t the same naive teenager anymore. He’d told her back then their relationship was only temporary—he’d been very upfront about that. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she hadn’t believed him.

  He hadn’t changed. According to him, his life was still about temporary relationships. She’d do well to remember that.

  But just a few minutes ago, he’d been naked in the shower.

  Dammit.

  He looked her way just then. She blushed, as if he’d have any clue what she’d just been thinking about. Was still thinking about.

  She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed to see her. He pulled away from his group and headed in her direction, pulling a set of keys from his duffel bag. The silver car a few spots down from hers beeped and its lights flashed.

  She crossed her arms over her chest as she started his way, then uncrossed them and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, curling and uncurling her fingers inside the soft fleece.

  “Beth.” He opened the trunk and dropped his bag inside. He slammed the trunk closed, then turned to face her, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his legs in a wide stance, looking prepared to argue some more.

  “I came by to apologize,” she said.

  One of his brows rose, as if he didn’t expect that from her.

  “I wasn’t very nice to you thi
s morning. I implied some things that weren’t very, um, nice.” Sheesh. Did she have an elementary level vocabulary? Could she think of no other words? She cleared her throat. “I should have been more understanding. You come back to town, which you’re probably not too happy about, then you get this bombshell dropped on you. Of course you’re going to react the way you did. I should have realized—”

  He held up his hand to interrupt. “Hey. Neither of us would’ve received good manners awards. Why don’t we start over?”

  She breathed a long sigh and nodded. She motioned toward the stadium. “Tough loss tonight.”

  He shrugged. “We couldn’t hit the damn ball. Couldn’t catch it either.”

  “That’s a problem.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Look, I know how important your career is to you, that you always put it first. I get it. I mean, you’ve never pretended otherwise. So I just wanted to let you know that it’s okay if—” How could she say this without offending him? She cleared her throat. “Not everyone wants to be a parent and not everyone is cut out to be one. And that’s okay.”

  A droplet of mist had landed on his eyelashes. It was so unfair that a guy would get those long, thick lashes, while hers disappeared without mascara. He blinked and the droplet was gone.

  “You didn’t ask for this,” she said. “And I just wanted to tell you again that I don’t expect you to jump into the role of father. In fact, I think it would be in Lindsey’s best interests if you and I just… parted ways. No hard feelings. I, um, brought my attorney’s card.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans. “Your attorney can call mine and—”

  She stopped at the anger radiating from the gray-blue depths of his eyes.

  “Do you honestly think I could learn I have a daughter and then just walk away?” His words were slow and enunciated. He made a sound under his breath and stared over her shoulder a moment. “I might be a selfish ass, but I’m not that much of a jerk.”

  Beth felt like she’d just shrunk to about an inch in size. “I didn’t mean—”

  He held up his hand. “Quit saying you didn’t mean it. It’s clear what your opinion of me is. And despite that opinion, I can’t pretend I don’t know about Lindsey. I want to meet her.”