Angels Walking (34 page)

One that was only now beginning to play out.

28

T
HE WORLD SERIES STARTED
in forty-eight hours, but Marcus Dillinger wasn’t at the ballpark. He was driving to Los Angeles International Airport in his Hummer. Every other player was either at the Dodgers’ training facility or working on his game. Marcus Dillinger had spoken to his coach, Ollie Wayne, and gotten permission for this diversion.

“I’m ready,” he told him. “I’ll deliver. I promise.”

“That’s fine.” Ollie believed him. Always.

Marcus couldn’t wait to see his old friend. Everything else was lined up. Tyler would meet with the surgeon later today. The guy had promised to do the operation at cost.

Pennies for someone with a starting pitcher’s income.

He pulled off the 405 Freeway onto Airport Boulevard and worked his way to the passenger pickup area. About the same time he got a call. One ring and then it stopped. The signal they’d worked out meaning Tyler had his bags and he was headed outside.

Marcus tried to imagine not having a cell phone, not having the money to buy a plane ticket or get surgery—insurance or not. He was so far removed from the place Tyler lived in. But none of it had mattered until the call from Cheryl Conley. He had challenged God, after all. Asked Him to bring meaning to his life.

If He was real, anyway.

Baldy Williams was gone, but Marcus still had today. He wanted to make a difference.

Now he was going to get the chance.

He spotted Tyler and rolled down his window. “Ames! Over here!”

Tyler turned and lifted his good hand. The other arm was in a brace. He wore a baseball hat—proof that he still saw himself as a player. He was taking this trip to find a way back to the mound.

Marcus put his Hummer in park and jogged around to meet his friend. The two shared a hearty hug and the same handshake they’d done back when they were twelve. “Look at you!” Marcus grinned at his old friend. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You don’t look a day older than you did as a senior in high school.” Tyler grinned at him.

“Cross-town rivals.” Marcus flicked his friend’s baseball cap. “Jackson High Champs. You still have that old thing?”

“It’s vintage, man. Gotta love it.”

They caught up all the way back to Dodger Stadium. Marcus pulled into the player parking lot around one o’clock. His teammates were working out on their own until practice at three that afternoon. Still plenty of time to talk to Tyler, quit
the jokes, and give him the back story. The unexpected way Tyler might be an answer to his own questions.

Marcus waited until they were seated in the fifth row off third base. The air was cool, the sky impossibly blue. A light breeze drifted down from the Santa Monica Mountains. Perfect LA weather.

Tyler leaned over his knees and stared at the field, at the pitcher’s mound. “Can’t believe this, man. You’re living the dream.”

“My whole life’s been one lucky break.” Marcus expected Tyler to laugh and say something about his being a series of unlucky breaks. Instead his friend leaned back in his seat.

“I earned my bad breaks. All of them. I was a mess long before I threw that last pitch.” Tyler drew a deep breath. “I’m better now than I was when my body was perfect. I believe that.”

Marcus nodded, thoughtful. “Okay . . . You want the story?”

Tyler smiled. “Every detail.”

“So Baldy Williams overdosed. You heard about that?”

“I did.” Tyler sighed. “Such a waste.” He looked out at the mound again. “Back when we were kids, remember? We wrote a list of pitchers we wanted to be like.”

Marcus could see them again, the boys they’d been that summer, sitting at Tyler’s kitchen table. “I completely forgot about that.”

“Yep.” Tyler’s smile looked sad this time. “Baldy was at the top of the list. For both of us.” He shook his head. “Hit me hard, man. They had me on Oxycodone. I mean, for a long
time. Read that article and not long after I quit cold. I could see things getting out of control.”

“Hmmm. I didn’t know that.”

“Poor Baldy.” Tyler lifted his face to the sunshine directly over the stadium. “I didn’t want things to end like that for me.”

A shudder worked its way through Marcus. How would he have felt if he’d gotten the call that the person dead from an overdose was Tyler Ames? If he hadn’t connected with him now and helped him like this? He would’ve lived with the regret all his life. “Anyway, after Baldy died I came here the next morning and pretty nearly ran myself to death. Felt like the grim reaper was chasing me up and down the stairs.”

“Sounds awful.” Tyler turned and looked at him, caught up in the story.

“All the money and cars and houses, the fame and playoffs. None of it mattered that morning.” Marcus squinted at the distant stairs. “All I wanted was purpose. A reason for this life.” He looked at Tyler again. “You know?”

“Definitely.” His friend’s eyes said he could relate.

“So.” Marcus sat up straighter, breathing in deep. “I gave God a challenge. I told Him if He was there, He needed to show me. Give me a reason to believe. Give my life meaning.”

Tyler held his damaged arm close to his body. He smiled, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “Sounds like you.”

“I know . . . lotta nerve. Calling out God.” Marcus chuckled, but the sound faded quickly. “That was only a few weeks ago. Since then a day hasn’t gone by without some way to give back. Talking to a couple guys about converting a hotel downtown for the homeless. Maybe adding an afterschool program for troubled teens.” He sighed. “I’ve been busy writing
checks. All for good things, but I never really saw God in them. If He was real I wanted better proof—something more personal.”

For a long time Tyler only stared at the infield. When he looked back at Marcus, his eyes looked damp. “So God brought me.”

“Exactly.” He gazed at the nearby mountains. “I couldn’t make this stuff up, you know? Couldn’t have placed a call or had my agent figure it out.” His eyes met Tyler’s again. “It has to be God.”

Tyler removed his baseball cap and worked his good hand through his hair. “Wait till you hear my side of the story.”

“See, Ames?” Marcus grinned. “I knew you’d find your words.”

For the next ten minutes Tyler told him his story. The parts Marcus couldn’t possibly have known: how the blown shoulder had led to his living in a car and how a random visit to a church had opened a door for the job at Merrill Place. The way Virginia Hutcheson had thought he was her son, and the daily conversations that followed.

The way she spoke to him about God’s grace.

“I mean, what are the odds you take time with an old lady and because of that, you wind up back here with me?” Marcus couldn’t stop the chills that ran along his bare arms.

“That’s just it. There are no odds.” Tyler laughed in a way that showed his bewilderment. “Both of us needed a miracle. Both of us were backed into a corner where only God could get us out.”

Tyler was right. “Cheryl . . . her mother. You.”

“God tied it all together.” Tyler chuckled. “So we wouldn’t
mistake it for something ordinary.” He slipped his cap back on his head and adjusted the bill.

“Exactly.” Marcus pulled his car keys and a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hey, I gotta run. Your appointment’s in an hour. Here’s the keys and the address.”

Tyler took both and again he seemed at a loss for words. He stared at the slip of paper and hung his head. “How can I . . . ever thank you?” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve this.”

“I thought your friend Virginia already told you that.” Marcus put his arm around his friend’s good shoulder. “None of us deserve anything, right? Wasn’t that it?”

“Yes, but . . .” Tyler lifted his head and looked at Marcus. “I mean . . . my shoulder, my trouble. It isn’t your problem.”

“No.” Marcus’s heart felt lighter than it had in years. “It isn’t my problem, Ames. It’s my miracle.” He stood and folded his arms, smiling at his friend. “How’s that for a switch? I should be thanking you.”

Tyler hesitated for a few seconds, but then he stood and the two of them laughed the way they had when they were kids. “You’re still crazy, Marcus.” They hugged like brothers and then Tyler held up the car keys. His laughter fell away. “Hey, man. After my appointment . . . can I take the car to Simi Valley? I have . . . a stop to make.”

Marcus thought he understood. Tyler’s parents lived in Simi Valley. They hadn’t talked about it, but Cheryl Conley said they weren’t in Tyler’s life. “Go where you want. Take your time.” He nodded toward the field. “I’ll be here.”

With that they parted ways. Marcus jogged down the steps through a door to the locker room. As he went, he actually felt different. Lighter in the soul, happier. As he reached
his teammates he realized what the feeling was, and how God had met the challenge. More than all the fame and money the world could give him, God had given him something greater.

A purpose.

ANGIE AMES HAD
a strange sense lately. She and Bill prayed every day for Tyler—the way they’d prayed since that day the waitress had talked to them. They had looked for her several times since then, but she was never there. No one seemed to know her. Of course, they were still saving money, hoping for the chance to fly to Florida and find their son. Let him know how sorry they were, how they had been wrong to let so much time pass without finding him. They had cut corners everywhere possible.

They planned to book the flight in a few weeks.

Maybe that was why lately when they prayed for Tyler, Angie felt a greater sense of hope. A greater expectancy.

But as Angie’s hopes soared, Bill’s seem to sink. He was more discouraged than ever. “How could Tyler forgive me? Even if we go and talk to him face-to-face?”

Angie figured they’d need to fly to Florida. Only then it would be obvious how God was working in Tyler’s life. And Angie believed God was working. By now Tyler’s shoulder was probably healed. He would be pitching again, working with a trainer, and finding his way back to the top. He was a fighter. She had always believed in him—even during the years of silence.

That morning she was working the front desk for the fence company when the phone rang. “Hello?”

Silence.

Angie was about to hang up when she heard something. Like the sound of a freeway. “Hello?”

“Mom?”

Her breath caught. “Tyler?” She pressed the phone to her face and closed her eyes. How many seasons had passed since she’d heard him? “Where are you?”

“I’m here in LA. It’s a long story.” He sounded clear-minded.

“Okay.” She held onto every word. Tyler was here? In California?

“I have an appointment and then . . . I’d like to come by the house.”

“We’ll be there.” She closed her eyes, too excited to breathe. Before the end of the day she would see her son again. She tried to focus. “What time, do you think?”

“Around four. Give or take.” Again there was the sound of traffic. “Sorry. I’m at a pay phone.”

“That’s fine.” She pictured him standing on the edge of a road somewhere. “Be careful. We’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He hesitated. “I should have good news by then.”

“Tyler . . .” There was so much to say, so many blown-up bridges to rebuild. “We haven’t known how to reach you.”

“That was my fault.” The sound of traffic grew louder. “We can talk about it later. I have to go.”

“All right.” Her mind raced. She didn’t want the phone call to end but she had to trust him. This afternoon he’d be
home with some sort of news. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I love you.”

Another pause, and this time she could hear the emotion in his voice. “Love you, too.”

Angie hung up the phone and stared at it. The call had actually happened, right? She pressed a few buttons and saw proof of the unfamiliar number. Yes, he had called. They had talked for just under two minutes. Which meant later today their boy would be standing in the living room again. Angie shielded her eyes with her hand. She had missed him so much. Every day, every month. The seasons and years lost forever.

She pushed away the thought. Things would be different now. She could hear it in Tyler’s voice.
Thank You, God . . . thank You.
The waitress had been right about Tyler and prayer and not giving up.
I knew You were doing something, God, and now this! Thank You.
She could hardly wait to find Bill in the warehouse and tell him the news.