Angels Walking (38 page)

Love,

Tyler

Yes, Tyler was so much more. Sami sniffed and dried her eyes with her fingertips. Then she began to move her fingers across the keys. There were no walls for her either, not this time. Life was too short to hide true feelings of the heart. She had no idea when she’d be in Pensacola again or whether anything would come of this exchange with Tyler. But she had to write back, even if only for one reason.

Tyler Ames was becoming real.

31

T
YLER’S MEETING WITH THE
Dodgers’ head coach was in twelve minutes. Marcus had several cars, so he had loaned the Hummer to him indefinitely. He checked the time on the dashboard as he pulled into the stadium parking lot. He was early. Of all the twists and turns his life had taken since he’d blown out his shoulder, Tyler had a feeling today might be the craziest of all.

He took a spot near the player entrance and killed the engine.

The whirlwind of events and emotions was still more than he could believe. His surgery had been nearly two weeks ago. He had stayed on the pain pills just two days this time around. Already the ache in his shoulder was much less than what he’d walked around with for months before the operation.

He was working with a physical therapist, getting better, stronger. He had split his time since the surgery at his parents’ house and then staying with Marcus. He had much to
be thankful for—Tyler understood that to the center of his soul. The renewed friendship with Marcus, his mom and dad back in his life, and the handful of messages he and Sami had swapped. These were the happiest parts of his new life.

The one where he was no longer a baseball player.

He checked the time on his phone. His parents had given him one of their old ones and set it up with a basic plan. All they could afford. Tyler was careful not to use it often, and one day soon—when the brace was finally off his arm—he would look for a job and get on his feet financially. All in time.

Amazing
. Now that he understood grace, he realized how much had been showered on him. So much that he didn’t deserve. Tyler walked up to the entrance and for just a moment he thought about his shoulder. The doctor’s words rang in his mind again the way they still did several times a day.
You will never pitch again, Tyler. I’m sorry.

Never pitch again.

For a few seconds he stopped just shy of the entrance and lifted his eyes. The sign read
OFFICIAL PLAYER ENTRANCE—LOS ANGELES DODGERS
. Right up until his trip to Los Angeles, Tyler had believed he would walk through a door like this one day. Not for some curious meeting with a coach, but to suit up for a game.

For whole seasons of games.

He nodded slowly and focused on the task ahead. Whatever it was. God could see him—He wasn’t finished with him. He smiled and headed through the door. It took another two minutes to make his way to the coach’s office. The man
stood and introduced himself. “I’m Ollie Wayne. I coach the pitchers.”

Tyler knew who he was. “Nice to meet you.” He sat across from the coach. So far the meeting was like something from a dream. For the life of him, Tyler couldn’t possibly understand why the man wanted to see him. Especially ten hours before what could be the last game of the World Series, with the Dodgers leading 3–2.

“I brought you in because last week I had a random talk with Jep Black—manager of the Blue Wahoos. He and I go way back, friends from our college days.”

Tyler felt his expression go blank. Jep Black knew Ollie Wayne? From college?

A twinge of regret hit Tyler, the one that would always come when successful baseball players and coaches talked about their college days. Tyler let it go. He tried to focus on what Coach Wayne was saying. He still couldn’t think of a single reason why he was here.

“So Jep and I got to talking and you came up. I told him you had your surgery and . . .” The coach frowned, clearly struggling with the reality of Tyler’s situation. “I told him you were done playing.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler couldn’t grasp where this was headed. “I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“I figured.” Another frown. “Before I say anything else, Tyler, you should know this: I’ve followed your pitching career ever since the Little League World Series. You’re a tremendous talent. What happened with your shoulder—” He shook his head. “It’s the worst kind of terrible.” He paused, clearly troubled. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Tyler believed the words he was about to say. He felt them in his heart as he spoke: “God must have other plans for me. I’m working to figure it out.”

A slight smile lifted Coach Wayne’s expression. “That’s why I called you in.”

He had to be dreaming. The pitching coach for the Los Angeles Dodgers couldn’t think Tyler would pitch again. The idea was without even the slightest degree of possibility. Tyler shifted. “Yes, sir.”

“I need to hire a pitching coach for our intern program, someone we can bring along in the off-season.” He leaned back in his chair. “Jep says I’d be crazy to hire anyone but you. Best young pitching coach he’s ever worked with.” Coach Wayne looked at a sheet of notes on his desk. “Jep said you worked with his pitchers in the off-season. Made every one of them better. Right before his eyes.”

This couldn’t be happening. Tyler had decided he couldn’t coach if he couldn’t pitch. But now . . . he had to hold onto the arms of the chair and squeeze hard to be sure he wasn’t floating. A week from now he might’ve given up on finding work in LA—too expensive without a real job. He could’ve even headed back to Merrill Place. He took a few subtle deep breaths and forced himself to listen.

“Of course, the other endorsement is the one that really matters.” Coach Wayne picked up a second piece of paper. “Here’s what it says: ‘I learned everything about pitching by the time I was in high school. Tyler Ames taught me. He was just a kid himself, but he had tricks and techniques even experienced coaches couldn’t teach me.’ ”

Who in the world would’ve said that? Tyler listened, his
heart pounding so loud he figured the coach had to hear it across the desk.

“There’s more. This player goes on to say, ‘I think about that every now and then. I’ll be out there on the mound pitching a winning game and his name will come up in my mind. Tyler Ames—I’ll always be thankful for him.’ ”

Coach Wayne looked straight at Tyler. “That was written by my top pitcher. Marcus Dillinger.” He smiled. “Marcus said he could guarantee we’d be known for our pitching if I hired you. How ’bout that?”

Tyler stared at the coach for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, unable to speak. Marcus had said that? Tears tried to crowd the moment, but he blinked them back. He pictured himself and Marcus, the two of them in high school, throwing pitch after pitch after pitch. Tyler could see things, that’s what he told Marcus back then: Little things. Adjustments. He would tell Marcus and Marcus would change his pitching.

It worked just about every time.

But how had Marcus remembered all these years later? And when had all this happened? “Sir . . . what about my arm?”

“Marcus says you can adjust a pitcher’s technique from a chair.”

“I don’t . . . I’m not sure what to say.” “Say yes.” He laughed. “Jep Black says he’ll hire you to coach for them if I don’t.” He studied Tyler. “But this is home for you, is that right?”

Tyler thought about his parents and Marcus, his recent conversations with Sami on Facebook. “Yes, sir. It’s home.”

Coach Wayne sat forward and set his forearms down hard on the desk. “Then say yes.” He went on for a minute or so about how the Dodgers liked to bring in a young intern coach and develop him, keep him in the franchise if he worked out. Then the coach talked about starting pay—five times what it had been at Merrill Place. “Of course that’s just the intern pay. If things go well after a few seasons, you could be up in the six figures.” He grinned. “I have a feeling you’ll be around for a while.”

“Thank you. I hope so.” Tyler wondered when the adrenaline rush would stop. “Sir? Are you serious?”

The coach laughed out loud. “Jep said I’d like you.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll take that as a yes, Tyler.”

“Yes.” They shook and Tyler laughed this time. A laugh of shock and disbelief and pure Christmas-like joy. “Definitely yes.”

Coach Wayne walked Tyler to the door. “You start today. I’ve set up best-seat passes for six at the player window for tonight’s game.” He looked confident. “A win tonight and we’re World Series Champs—which will happen. After we win, well, the off-season starts tomorrow. We’ll have meetings from ten to twelve each day. We’ll give you time to heal up before you start working with our staff on the field.”

There were a few other details, and Coach Wayne sent him away with a packet to fill out. New hire information. Tyler walked back out to Marcus’s Hummer, climbed in behind the wheel, and just sat there. He couldn’t believe it. Despite the odds, and though he didn’t deserve anything close, the impossible had happened.

He had made it to the Bigs.

WHEN HE COULD
finally breathe normally again, Tyler drove to his father’s warehouse and spent the day with his parents. He didn’t say a word about the job. Instead he helped his mother with filing in the office and not until lunchtime, at El Pollo Loco, did he tell them the news. It took that long for
him
to believe it, let alone imagine sharing it with his mom and dad.

“I’m so happy for you, son.” His dad hugged him. The embrace was almost totally natural now. The bridge was being rebuilt—one day at a time.

That afternoon he had an appointment with Dr. Walsh, who confirmed that his shoulder was healing right on schedule. Tyler went straight into rehab from the doctor’s office and at just after five, he finally gave himself permission to think about the next meeting.

The one with Sami Dawson.

They had swapped private Facebook messages for the last couple weeks and finally, a few days ago, he had told her about the surgery and the fact that he wasn’t in Pensacola, but here. An hour away. Tyler still wasn’t sure what would come from this, whether they could find what they shared before or whether this was only another part of his healing. But he knew this:

He had to see her.

The parking lot was empty at Zuma Station 12 when he pulled up—the last and furthest north section of the popular beach. He parked in the first row and stepped out. A brick wall separated the parking lot from the expanse of sand. She
wasn’t there yet, which was good. He needed this time to sort through all that had happened.

Every wonderful, unbelievable detail.

He leaned against the wall and stared at the deep blue Pacific.
Breathe, Ames. Just breathe.
There was a time when every moment led to a game, a number of pitches and balls and strikeouts. From his childhood days until three months ago, he defined himself the way the press did: by the speed of his pitch, his earned-run average, his win-loss record.

He could remember what it felt like the last time he stood on the mound for the Blue Wahoos—so close to perfect. How could he have known what God had in mind?

The sound of a car caught his attention. He turned as Sami parked her car next to the Hummer. It occurred to him again that he was employed now. He was a pitching coach for the LA Dodgers. A dream job. And one day soon he could find an apartment and get his own car, his own phone. The thought made him chuckle out loud.

There were still moments he wondered if he was dreaming. But he hadn’t woken up yet. So maybe all of this was actually happening.

He stood and faced her. She looked even more beautiful than before—if that was possible. Something in her eyes, her expression. The stiffness and formality were gone. She looked eighteen again, her smile easy.

“Hi.” Her eyes caught the sun as she came to him.

“Hi.” Tyler waited until their toes were nearly touching. “Thanks for coming.”

She didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes spoke volumes. “Let’s walk.”

He stayed at her right side and after a few steps he got the courage to do something he’d looked forward to since they started talking. As naturally as the waves on the shore, he reached for her hand. She gave him a shy smile and his hope doubled. If she felt the way he did, then maybe this wouldn’t be their last meeting. He eased his fingers between hers and breathed deep.