A League of Her Own (12 page)

“Several of you spoke at the funeral home. Given the heat, we have just a few moments left if there is anyone who would like to say something brief?” The minister shot her a look, and she met his eyes as steadily she could. What could she say that anyone would understand? That her father wasn’t in that aluminum-gray casket poised above the hole? That at any moment he’d amble up the hill behind them, giving them heck for skipping practice? That even though she knew none of these things were true, a part of her needed to believe it or she’d crumble into tiny bits and blow away like dust? It was all surreal.

Reed patted her arm and strode forward.

For once his cheek didn’t bulge from a wad of chewing tobacco, and he shifted in his dark suit, tugging at his tie.

“I knew Dave Gadway for over thirty years. We met when I joined the Falcons as a second baseman, and we became friends after he found out I like golf as much as I like ball. Through the years, Dave was always someone I could count on for advice. I knew he would back me up, and he made me proud to be a member of this franchise and his friend. He was a devoted father to Heather, and he loved her more than anything—even a league title.”

That earned a few quiet laughs, the respectful kind that broke the tension. But his words wound Heather up tighter. She knew her dad had loved her, yet it wasn’t something he’d said to her often. In fact, when she thought back to the last time he’d said it, her mind landed on the day she’d left for college. Ten years ago. Was it possible? And how long since she’d told him? A lump formed in her throat. She stuffed her clenched hands in her suit pockets to keep from lifting the casket’s lid and whispering it to him one last time.

Now it was too late. He had to have understood that she loved him. But the comfort of knowing that she’d told him recently—that, she’d never have.

Her gaze strayed to Garrett, who stood across from her, the casket between them. He clasped his hands in front of his charcoal-gray suit, his eyes on her rather than Reed. They stared at each other, the quiet strength in his expression making her stand a little taller, hold her chin a bit higher.

“Thank you,” she murmured to Reed when he returned.

Smythe ambled to the marker next, a hitch in his step, his cap twisting in his hands. “There was no better leader, better boss, better man than Dave Gadway. He made everyone he knew work harder and go that extra mile by his example. He was my idol and inspiration. When I tore my rotator cuff as a Falcons pitcher, I thought baseball was done for me until Dave offered me the coaching job. He never quit and didn’t let anyone else quit, either. He demanded the best from everyone and nearly always got it. We can learn a lot from his example. I’ll miss him.”

Heather’s eyes flitted to Garrett again, his gaze falling around her like a pair of strong arms. To her surprise, he broke their stare and strode to the front of the grave.

His smooth, low voice carried in the still air. “A little over a year ago, I would have been sitting in a bar after finishing my shift at the auto body shop, reminiscing about my former glory days playing in the Minor Leagues. One day, I ran into a guy I’d known in foster care. He’d just come back from Afghanistan and wanted to hear about my big baseball career, the one I’d left our group home for.”

Heather’s chest tightened when she saw a pulse throb in his temple, his jaw clench. This had to be hard for Garrett, who rarely opened up about anything. Why now? When his soulful eyes met hers, she had her answer. He was doing it for her, and the thought touched her deeply.

“I had to tell him that I’d been let go because of my alcoholism. That pissed him—sorry—that made him angry. He showed me his prosthetic arm and told me that he’d never waste any of his talents the way I was throwing away mine. After that, I knew I had to get my act together. I sobered up and got myself in shape, but wasn’t sure it’d be enough until Mr. Gadway offered me a tryout.”

Heather sorted through his words, fitting each together until they made a picture she recognized. She’d thought Smythe had recruited Garrett, had strong-armed her father into taking on an addict. Instead, her dad had been all for it...had even pushed to make it happen. Crazy.

Garrett cleared his throat and began again. “When I met him, I thought Mr. Gadway was the last guy in the world who’d give me another shot. He was blunt, told me I’d messed up big-time and asked if I planned on doing it again. When I told him I wouldn’t, he took me at my word. It was the first time anyone ever had that much faith in me. It’s what made Mr. Gadway the kind of man I aspired to be—still do—one who believed in himself and didn’t need anyone else’s approval.”

Garrett’s eyes bored into hers, and she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. All she’d ever wanted to know was that her father believed in her, was proud.

Heather’s stomach bottomed out. Why did her father have such confidence in someone with a track record like Garrett’s and none in her? She’d always had to fight to gain her father’s faith. Why? It was a question she should have asked before it was too late.

Her gaze flickered over to Garrett as he stood straight and tall beneath the tent, rows of well-wishers seated before him in folding chairs. Her father had trusted Garrett. Should she? After her childhood, it was hard to imagine, but being around him made it seem more possible every day.

Looking beyond the tent, Heather spied a slim, tall figure crest the hill. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, sure that the approaching woman couldn’t possibly be who she seemed to be. But before she could be sure, an electric hum sounded. Heather whirled as her father’s casket was lowered into the ground. Her heart beat in the roof of her mouth.

Her dad was going. Her father. Her rock. And he was disappearing into a dark place she couldn’t follow.

She stood, frozen, watching the rounded dome drop. Hands squeezed her shoulders as family and friends passed by. She pressed her father’s glove against her splintered heart. She stayed that way long after the last car door slammed, unwilling, unable, to leave him. To say goodbye. Even the funeral director’s kind reminder that the service was over hadn’t penetrated.

At last a hand tugged on her arm. She wiped away the tears blurring her vision, then blinked in shock.

“Hello, Heather,” her mother said. “It’s been too long.”

CHAPTER NINE

“H
EATHER
! W
AIT
!
”

Heather’s heels clicked along Holly Springs’ Main Street sidewalk a week later. She hurried from the lawyer’s office, taking her as far, and as fast, as she could get from her mother.

She seethed. How could her father have let this happen? It was too incredible to believe.

“Please, Heather. We need to talk.”

Her mom’s freckled face appeared in the rear passenger window of the expensive sedan that was pacing her. A suited man drove, his expression impassive.

Heather shook her head and lengthened her stride, everything in her line of vision tinted red. Did her mother believe she had anything to say after that shocking news?

The car jerked to a halt, and Heather gaped when the door swung open. She was not going to talk to her mother. Not here. Not ever. Her mother’s long legs appeared, and alarm seized her. She needed to get away. Now.

She bolted into the road. Screeching tires and the faintest brush of a bumper made her stumble and land on her backside, hard, her elbow scraping the pavement.

In seconds, a man knelt beside her, his familiar blue eyes so dark they were nearly black. His arm snaked behind her back, snatching her close.

“Heather. What were you doing? You could have been killed!”

Garrett sounded so like her father, her eyes stung. She wished she could speak, but the words tumbled in her head like laundry. Instead, she stared up at him, wincing at her stinging elbow. When a truck honked, Garrett waved, his impatient gesture ordering the pickup to go around.

“Oh my goodness. Are you okay?” she heard her mother exclaim, the hem of her green dress looming into view.

Heather closed her eyes. If only she could hit the rewind button on these past couple of minutes. Here she was, in the arms of the man she’d vowed never to touch again, dealing with a parent she’d hoped to forget. Even more difficult to take was the probate lawyer’s news. That defied understanding.

“Garrett. Please get me out of here.”

His eyes flicked up to her mother. She could see understanding dawning in his expression when he peered back at Heather. Except for the age difference, she and her mother could have been twins. But that was only on the outside. Inside, they were as different as could be.

“Sure.” He helped her to her feet. “But you’re not in any condition to drive.”

She pulled a tissue from her purse and held it to her grazed elbow, avoiding her mother’s pleading look. If she went with Garrett, he’d be behind the wheel. But if she left on her own, her mother would follow.

Garrett’s handsome face hovered above her, concern sharpening his features, his mouth in a grim line. And just like that, she knew. Garrett. Her father had trusted him. Maybe she could too.

“Okay. You drive.”

Garrett rested his chin above her head, his heart beating fast against her. “Okay,” he breathed, his tone sounding relieved. With care, he gently guided her to her feet.

“Heather, please. Let me drive you home.” Her mother extended her hand, a charm bracelet catching the afternoon light. “Then we can talk this out in private.”

Heather stepped out of reach, her skin crawling. “Don’t ever.” Her mouth froze until she dragged the words from their hiding places. “Come to my house. Got it?”

Her mother paled and stepped back. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Thinking of others was never one of your strong suits,” Heather said wearily and turned to Garrett. “Can we go now? Please.”

“You got it.” Garrett steered her to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. “Goodbye, ma’am,” he said before sliding behind the wheel, his window open.

“Please call me Renee,” Heather’s mother urged as Garrett hit the gas and the car zoomed forward.

“Are you okay?” A redheaded boy poked his head between the front seats, his elfin features making him resemble Peter Pan. Neverland—a place without mothers, Heather recalled. If only she could fly there.

“I’m fine, Levi, thanks.” She leaned against the leather headrest and pulled the tissue away from her arm. No bleeding. “Why didn’t you go home earlier when camp ended?”

“Mr. Wolf got permission to treat me to ice cream. I struck out ten batters.” His babble temporarily soothed the fire raging inside Heather.

She contemplated Garrett’s neutral profile as he drove, wondering at this development. She’d been proud of his help with the kids. But rewarding one in particular for good work, giving personal attention, was taking things to another level. If she wasn’t so irate over her father’s will, she’d be excited. But right now, only two emotions consumed her.

Fury and betrayal.

She didn’t have room to feel afraid of Garrett behind the wheel, his speed so slow that cars honked as they passed him. Her breath eased as his car stayed in its lane. No swerving. Nothing to frighten her. In fact, the extracareful way he drove made her wonder if he was trying to reassure her. If so, it worked.

To an extent.

Her pulse still thrummed and her fingernails dug into the door handle, her body rigid. Whenever Levi paused for breath, she nodded along politely while her mind worked in overdrive.

“Someday I’m going to be a professional ball player. Like Mr. Wolf,” the boy gushed. “Not gonna be in foster care forever.”

Heather followed his finger pointing and spotted the group home before Garrett swung into its parking lot.

“Will you be okay alone?” he asked her, his voice low and urgent. “I need to check Levi in.”

Heather nodded but avoided his eyes. If he studied hers, he’d know she wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot.

“Bye, Ms. Gadway!” Levi yelled before hopping out of the car. Heather waited for the door to slam, but instead she felt a thin hand touch her shoulder. She looked up, startled.

The boy’s flushed, narrow face and wide eyes pushed close. “I’m—uh—sorry about your dad. I never had one, but if I did, I would have wanted him to be just like yours.”

“Thanks, Levi.”

Heather squeezed her eyes shut when the door clicked closed. Yes. Her dad had been great in many ways. But he’d never had faith in her, thought her capable. His decision to leave majority ownership of the team to his estranged wife was clear proof. In his eyes, Heather wasn’t good enough. Although he’d let her work with the Falcons this season, he couldn’t have believed she’d succeed. Her bid to make him proud had been a fruitless mission.

Always had been.

And why hadn’t he confessed that he’d never gone through with the divorce? It made no sense. She thunked her head against the glass. None of this did.

The beeping of a truck brought the ambulance’s siren to mind. After a week, she still woke with it in her ears, the realization that her father was gone a stone in her chest. She’d appointed Smythe as temporary manager while she grieved, though how long that would be, she wasn’t sure. Whenever she thought of returning, it felt like the fire that’d driven her had blown out. Now that her mother owned a majority share in the team, coming back seemed impossible.

Garrett’s pine-scented aftershave filled the cab when he swung into his seat moments later. He angled his body her way and took her hand.

“What happened, Heather?”

Her heart expanded at the sound of her name on his lips. Today she wasn’t Skipper. Not to him. And she wanted it that way. “Can we go somewhere?” She glanced out at the street, wondering if her mother’s car lurked.

Garrett rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles, sending a shimmer of sensation through her. “Anywhere. I have an AA meeting, but I can go to one tomorrow instead. And I don’t have to be at the stadium for a couple of hours.”

She nodded, remembering. “You guys have a game tonight. I should know that.”

“You’ve had enough to handle without thinking about us,” Garrett grumbled, sending her an oblique look. Had he thought about her? She’d received his flowers along with many other bouquets but hadn’t brought herself to open any of the accompanying cards.

He let go, started the engine and maneuvered the shift smoothly as he backed out of the spot. His hand settled on the blinker while they waited for traffic to clear. “Left or right?”

“Huh?” Her eyes traced the straight line of his nose, the cut angle of his jaw. She’d thought only of getting away. It hadn’t mattered where.

“Where would you like to go?”

A special place came to mind. One that she’d love to see again. With Garrett.

“Ever been to Looking Glass Falls?”

His mouth curved upward. “Haven’t seen much beyond a baseball field and a tour bus. Let’s go.”

After ten minutes of heeding her directions, followed by a twenty-minute off-road hike, they burst through a clump of pines onto a rocky outcrop.

Garrett’s astonished expression was everything she’d hoped for. Water raced by, pouring over a wide stone lip to a clear pool below. Foam churned on the basin’s surface, sprays of water cooling them off. Her restless spirit eased at the natural surroundings and the steadfast man beside her.

“I discovered it when I was in Girl Scouts,” she said over the rushing stream that gurgled and splashed when it hit the rocks sixty feet below. “The old dugout used to be my thinking spot. But this was the only place my mother couldn’t find me when I ran away.”

Garrett’s fingers laced with hers, and a bit of happiness nudged some of her grief away. He helped her down to the ledge, and they each took off their shoes to dangle their bare feet in the misty air.

“How often was that?” he probed after a silent moment.

She squinted at a large woodpecker across the narrow chasm, its
rat-tat-tat-tat
blending with the wind rustling through the trees. She inhaled fresh air and began. If she was going to confide in him, no sense in starting in the middle.

“As long as I can remember, my mother was always up and down. Sometimes she’d be great and would play with me for hours. Other times she’d stay in bed all day and yell for hot tea.”

Garrett’s eyes, as blue as the sky peeping through the canopy of leaves, searched hers. “How old were you?”

A lump formed in her throat. “Five is the earliest I remember.”

His brows came together. “You were making hot tea at that age? Where was your father?”

“Working on team business. Mom did a better job of hiding her issues when he was around.”

Garrett’s hand found hers again. He turned her palm over, his finger tracing the lines that ran across it.

“You must have been lonely.” His eyes darkened as he studied her. “We have that in common.”

“I didn’t know what was wrong with her then. Even though I brought her medicine, she got worse. When she went away to the hospital, I stayed up nights, crying and begging that she’d get better. Come home. I didn’t understand where she really went until much later.”

Garrett’s hand tightened on hers. “Rehab.”

She studied her swinging feet in the vapor-filled air.

“Yes. Except that it never worked. Not for long. At first I’d think she was better. We’d bake and sew doll clothes. Dad didn’t have much time for a little girl hanging around his baseball team, so for me, my world was her.”

Her words came in fits and starts, sounding like an old radio tuned to a remote channel. Garrett brushed her hair from her face, and the gentleness of his touch made her want to weep.

“How many times did she go to rehab?”

“Not as many as she needed to. Three, I think.” Heather leaned her cheek against his hand. “I tried keeping her clean. Being her best girl and doing everything so she wouldn’t have any pain. By eight I could do the housework and cook, but I couldn’t...”

A lump formed in her throat and blocked the rest of her sentence.

Garrett lifted her chin and stared deep into her eyes. “You couldn’t keep her sober.”

She shook her head, beyond words. The parent she’d loved most was gone, and the one who’d hurt her most had returned. Where was the justice in that?

“I got my hopes up so many times. Thought I had the power to control it. Her. But she hid the pills where I couldn’t find them, learned to hide some of her symptoms too.” Heather pulled a leaf off a scrub bush and ripped it into small pieces. Al-Anon had taught her not to blame herself for her mother’s actions. Still. It was tough not to feel that she could have done more. Helped.

“When I got in the car on the day of the accident, she was only a week out of rehab. I was so happy she was home. Should have been paying closer attention. But I wanted her to be better so badly. I missed the signs.”

The crushing disappointment fell through her, taking what was left of her heart with it. All her life she’d wanted her mother to love her more than drugs. Her father to be proud of her. She’d failed on both counts.

Garrett slid closer and gathered her in his arms. After everything, the small voice of protest at his touch was easily silenced. Yes, he was her subordinate. Yes, he was a recovering addict. But he was the only one who got past her defenses. Helped her open up. And she needed someone to talk to. Was it selfish, just for this moment, to give in to her feelings? She’d reassemble the wall between them later. She rested her head against his chest.

“Until the funeral you hadn’t seen her since the car accident?” His voice vibrated against her ear when he spoke.

“No. She left before I woke up in the hospital. It was my thirteenth birthday. Guess that was her present to me.” She tried to make a joke of it, but her attempt at a laugh sounded more like a sob. Instantly, Garrett slid a hand beneath her knees and pulled her calves across his legs, snuggling her.

“In her state, it was the best thing she could have done.”

Stung, Heather pulled back. “Leave her daughter for pills? That was the best thing?” she snapped.

His thumb brushed down the side of her cheek, his expression insistent. “Better than putting you in harm’s way again. I wouldn’t have stood for that. Not if I was your dad. Not if I loved you.”

The intent look in his eye, the low rumble of his voice as he said the word
loved
, made the butterflies swarming in her stomach take flight.