His Secret Child (5 page)

Caleb waited on the front porch while Sheila checked to make sure Danny was asleep. She had put her son to bed three times since his two young buddies had left, and each time he'd thought of just one more thing to tell Caleb.

"This is the last thing, I promise, Mom," the boy had said ten minutes ago. "Caleb, would you come and watch us practice tomorrow? We'll be over behind the grammar school, in Old Man Pickens's field. That's where the Bulldogs always practice."

"Danny!" Sheila had scolded.

"I might drop by for a few minutes," Caleb had replied. "But don't mention it to any of the other guys just in case I don't make it"

Sheila swung open the front door and joined Caleb on the porch.

"He's down for the count," she said. "He's asleep and this time he isn't faking it."

Caleb sat in the porch swing. He knew he should get in his car and drive home instead of lingering, trying to prolong the evening. He dreaded going back to the old homestead alone. He was a man accustomed to company, to being around teammates and fans and—until this past year when he'd been recuperating from the accident—he'd seldom been without a female companion.

"I hope you don't mind that I told Danny I might stop by his practice tomorrow."

She hesitated a couple of seconds before she replied, "No, I don't mind. He would have been terribly disappointed if you'd said no. I think he'd already told Devin and Tanner that he was going to ask you to come by."

"I promise to play it cool with him," Caleb said. "He's a pretty smart boy. He understands that my stay in Crooked Oak is only temporary."

Feeling a sudden chill at his words, Sheila rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "It's cool, isn't it, for springtime?"

"Come sit by me and I'll warm you up," he said, his tone teasing.

He'd like to warm her up, melt that frosty exterior and see just how hot Sheila could get. He remembered a passionate young girl who had come alive in his arms. Was that fire and passion still alive in her, just waiting to be unleashed? She had told him there was no one special in her life, so that had to mean she was celibate because unless Sheila had changed a great deal, she'd never indulge in casual sex.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked. "It's ten-thirty. Past my bedtime. We're early risers around here."

He patted the wood slat bottom of the swing. "Come sit with me before I go home. It's a beautiful spring night. Stars and moon and fresh country air."

"You don't want to go home, do you?"

"What?"

"I said, you don't want to go home. You don't want to be alone."

"Smart lady."

"Why didn't you go to Nashville and stay with Tallie and Peyton instead of coming back to Crooked Oak if you hate being alone?"

"I thought I wanted a quiet, isolated place to hide away," he admitted. "But I've discovered that I'm not a loner. I like contact with other people far too much. Especially certain old friends."

Sheila laughed. Dear Lord, he was such a flirt. Such a charmer. Those things about Caleb hadn't changed. "Oh, all right, I'll sit in the swing with you for fifteen minutes and then you'll go home and I'll go in to bed."

"Mmm." He grinned mischievously. "We could skip the fifteen minutes in the swing and forget about my going home and just head straight to your bed."

She knew he was joking, or at least halfway joking, and wondered how long it had been since he'd laughed and kidded around since the accident.

She sat with him, their side-by-side bodies filling the narrow swing. He slid his arm around her shoulders. She allowed him to touch her, to bring her body close to his, and for a moment she closed her eyes and pretended that there was more than loneliness prompting his actions.

"How long's it been?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"How long's what been?" she replied.

"Since you got some."

Sheila giggled. "What a question to ask me. You're certainly not a romantic are you, Caleb?"

"Nope. So?"

"'So' what?"

"So, how long has it been since you got some?"

"For your information, I don't get
some,"
she said. "I have sex. I make love."

"Okay. How long's it been since you had sex or made love?"

"Do you think that's any of your business?"

"Maybe not." He slid his left hand beneath her hair and caressed the nape of her neck. She shuddered. "What if I tell you how long it's been for me? Then will you tell me?"

"Maybe I don't want to know," she said.

"Sure you do." He nuzzled the side of her neck. She shuddered again. "I haven't had sex in a year. Not since before the accident."

His tongue circled her ear. Her mouth formed a surprised oval as she silently gasped. "I—I find that hard to believe. I'm sure there have been dozens of women who—" He kissed her ear at the same moment he speared his fingers into her hair and grasped her head. "Caleb, don't do this to me."

"I could have gotten it on with some of my nurses and even with a willing fan or two who sneaked into my hospital room, but I was in no shape to fool around. And when I recovered enough to go home to my apartment, I went through several months of deep depression."

"I'm sorry. Tallie told me how worried she's been about you."

"Fess up, honey," he said. "I told you, so now it's your turn to tell me. How long's it been?"

"Five years," she said softly.

"Five years!" He grabbed her chin and turned her to face him. "Are you saying you haven't had sex with anyone since your husband died?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"But why?"

"Because I don't have sex with a man unless he's important to me, unless I care about him and … Don't look at me that way."

"What way?" he asked. "How am I looking at you?"

"Don't." She jumped up from the swing and headed for the front door, but Caleb caught her before her hand reached the knob.

He encircled her body with his arms and pulled her back up against his chest. "You need me as much as I need you. We could be so good for each other." He turned her around and lowered his mouth to hers.

Not only did she want his kiss, she accepted it with enthusiasm, opening her mouth for his invasion. Hot and demanding and all-consuming, his tongue pillaged while his big hand held her head in place and his body pressed intimately against hers. His sex pulsed against her mound, requesting permission for entrance.

She flung her arms around him and held him close, longing to surrender and give him all that he wanted. Every fiber of her being raged with the need for fulfillment. All she had to do was open the door and take him inside the house to her bedroom. And when they were through, he could go home to the farm and no one would ever know what had happened. Just like twelve years ago when they'd made love. The night Danny had been conceived. The night she'd known she would love Caleb Bishop until the day she died.

Breaking the kiss, Sheila breathed deeply, then shoved gently against his chest. If she didn't put a stop to this now, she would live to regret it.

"Go home, Caleb." She laid her hands on his chest. His heart drummed beneath her palm. "I don't want another one-night stand."

Caleb adjusted his aviator sunglasses as he got out of his Porsche. He hadn't actually thought much about stopping by to watch Danny's team this afternoon. In fact, he had decided that maybe Sheila was right—that he shouldn't let the boy become too attached to him. But bored out of his skull, he'd hopped into his car and driven away from the farm. Somehow he'd wound up passing by the grammar school and noticed the boys playing ball. He'd practiced ball out there in Old Man Pickens's field. Some of the happiest days of his life had been spent in Little League.

Rubbing his right arm as he propped his hip against the hood of the car, he searched the group of boys. It wasn't hard to find Sheila's son. Not only was he a couple inches taller than most of the other guys, the boy's jet-black hair curling out from beneath his ball cap glistened in the late afternoon sunlight.

Caleb kept his distance for quite a while, not wanting his presence to create a scene. He watched the boys and their coach, noticing that Danny seemed to be the chosen pitcher for the team. Caleb's own position. From the first year in Little League until his final year with the Braves. He'd possessed a natural talent that had made him practically a legend by thirty. He had lived for the rush, the unparalleled high, of pitching a great game. But his pitching days were over.

Lifting his useless right arm, he stared at the crippled appendage as if it weren't a part of his own body. A stupid accident. One vital error. A split second and it had all ended. He'd told himself repeatedly that he was luckier than his girlfriend Kimberly, and his teammate Wes Shatz. After all, he had survived the boat wreck. They hadn't.

Caleb watched the practice progress as Coach Lawley stood on the sidelines, instructing the young ballplayers. The man spoke with a soft, authoritative voice. Caleb's gut instincts told him that Pat was the right kind of man to be coaching a bunch of kids. He seemed to be adequately knowledgeable about the game, firm in his discipline but still patient and understanding.

At one point, Lawley removed his cap, scratched his head and spit on the ground. He glanced around the parking area, as if searching for something or someone. When he spotted Caleb, he smiled and threw up his hand. Caleb nodded.

As he made his way toward Caleb, Lawley continued making comments to the boys—giving them direction and praise. He came up beside Caleb and offered his hand. The two men exchanged a cordial handshake, then Lawley looked out into the field where
his
boys were playing their hearts out, as if this practice were a title game.

"I appreciate your stopping by, Mr. Bishop. The boys will be thrilled."

"Caleb, not Mr. Bishop."

"Yeah, right. Caleb. I wouldn't mind your giving me a few pointers on how to help these boys. Some of them are good players but a few would be sitting on the bench all the time if they were on someone else's team. I try to give every boy a chance to play during each game."

"Little League needs more coaches with your attitude, Pat," Caleb said. "Those kids will learn soon enough that winning is the name of the game. Too bad they can't just enjoy playing while they're kids. Guess Little League hasn't changed much in all these years, huh?"

"I'm afraid not. Most of these kids are playing for their dads, and too many fathers are trying to relive their childhoods through their sons." Pat shook his head sadly. "And the boys whose fathers don't have the time to coach a team, or be on the board, or who aren't the coach's buddy, are often passed over, whether or not they're good players. I'm afraid the Bulldogs is comprised of boys the other teams didn't want."

"I find that hard to believe." Caleb watched Danny pitch, striking out the batter. "Danny Vance is a damn good pitcher for a boy his age. Are you telling me the other teams didn't want him?"

"Not until recently," Pat said. "Once his mother's best friend became first lady of the state, the other teams were interested, all right. But Sheila and Danny told them no thanks, that if he wasn't good enough for their teams before, he still wasn't."

Caleb snorted. "Dammit! Things are even worse now than back when I played. Believe it or not, I know what it feels like to sit on the bench, to be a kid without a dad coaching or rooting from the sidelines. I didn't get my real chance to be a star pitcher until I played high school baseball."

"Danny's good. He's a natural, and I give him every opportunity I can to show his stuff."

"You're fond of him, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I like the kid, and I like Sheila, too. Guess you can say that I've been using the kid to get to his mom." Pat grinned shyly.

"Are you and Sheila—?"

"No, we're not, but I'd like for us to be," Pat admitted. "We've dated a few times, but she doesn't feel what I do. I never figured she'd be mourning Dan Vance after all these years, but I can't figure out what other reason she'd still be single. Sheila would make some man a good wife."

"You're right," Caleb agreed. "Sheila's the wife and mother type, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's dependable and loyal and caring. And I've never seen a woman love her child more. She'd do anything for Danny. That's why I can't understand why she hasn't remarried and given him a father."

"Who knows," Caleb replied.

Caleb had wondered why Sheila was still single, why she hadn't found herself a husband and given Danny a father. Had she loved Dan Vance that much? Somehow he couldn't picture Sheila and Dan sharing a passionate love affair. The guy had been twice Sheila's age. Caleb hadn't thought much about it when he'd heard the two had married not long after he'd gone off to college. A few times the thought had crossed his mind that Sheila had married Dan on the rebound. Caleb knew she'd thought she was in love with him after their one night together, and he'd regretted hurting her when he told her that he couldn't return her feelings.

"Take a break, Danny." Pat Lawley's strong voice echoed across the field. "We'll let Tanner pitch for a while." He turned to Caleb. "Stick around awhile, will you? I need to get back to business, but we'll be finished up here in a few minutes."

Danny came off the field, hiked his glove up under his arm and headed toward a large cooler. He flipped open the lid and retrieved an iced bottle of water. When he took the first sip, he glanced out toward the makeshift parking area and saw Caleb. The boy threw up his hand and waved, then came racing out to meet his idol.

"Hey, Caleb! I knew you'd come. Man, this is great. Come on over and meet the rest of the team. We're about through for the day." Danny grabbed Caleb's right hand and tugged.

Caleb flinched. Instinctively he jerked free from the boy's hold. No one touched his right hand and arm. Most people tried not to even look at it.

"Sorry," Danny said. "That's your injured arm, isn't it?" Without another thought, Danny took Caleb's left hand and led him toward the field.

Caleb slowed his pace, causing Danny to stop and look up at him. "What's the matter?"

"Hadn't we better wait until the guys finish up?"

"I told you that practice is about over," Danny said. "Didn't you notice how many cars have shown up? It's parents and grandparents coming to pick us up."

"Is your mother picking you up today?"

"Yep. We're going to Pete's Café for supper and then we've got to shop for some new jeans for me. These—" he pointed to the pair he wore "—aren't worn out or anything. But see how short they are? Mama says I've got to stop growing sooner or later."

There was something about Danny's smile that affected Caleb in an odd way. Something familiar. Maybe he had Sheila's smile. He certainly had her big, blue eyes. Caleb studied the boy for a minute. No, that wasn't it—Danny's smile wasn't anything like Sheila's.

"Introduce me to your friend, Danny," a syrupy female voice said.

Danny jumped. Caleb jerked his head around. A petite brunette in a pair of skintight jeans smiled at him.

"Oh, hi, there, Mrs. Baker," Danny said. "I didn't hear you come up. This is Caleb Bishop. Caleb, this is Devin's mother."

The brunette held out her small, ring-adorned hand and took a step closer, leaving only inches between her body and Caleb's. "Gwyn Baker, Mr. Bishop. Us folks here in Crooked Oak sure are proud that you're a native son. This whole town watches the Braves religiously. I'm one of your biggest fans myself."

"Thanks."

The minute Caleb accepted the woman's hand, she curled her fingers and clasped tightly. "So, you're Devin's mother, huh? I met him last night at Danny's house."

"I know." Gwyn's full, pouty lips opened in a broad smile. "That's all he talked about when Bill Finch brought him home. He said you might be here today, so I decided to come by and see for myself. Devin usually gets a ride home with one of the other kids."

Caleb extracted his hand from Gwyn's, but couldn't escape her flirtatious smile or her arm that suddenly snaked around his waist.

"Come on, Caleb." Danny tugged on Caleb's arm. "The guys are all dying to meet you."

Completely ignoring Danny, Gwyn said, "If you ever get lonesome or bored, I'd be more than happy to show you around. I know all the hot spots from here to Nashville."

"What would Mr. Baker think about your showing me around?" Caleb asked.

Gwyn's chirpy laughter gained the attention of several other parents who had emerged from the vehicles and were milling around, moving slowly but surely in Caleb's direction.

"There isn't any Mr. Baker, sugar," she said. "Well, there is. But he lives in Arkansas and he's not my husband anymore."

Pat Lawley, followed by the entire Bulldogs team, headed toward Caleb. Surrounded, he thought. Surrounded by fans. There had been a time when he had immensely enjoyed the adoration of the crowds, had loved being swamped by a horde of baseball enthusiasts. But that had been when he was at the top of his game. A star. The idol of millions of boys throughout America. And the heartthrob for a million and one women.

"The team is really glad you stopped by," Pat Lawley said. "How about saying a few words to the boys?"

"Sure thing." Caleb had given plenty of inspirational talks to kids during his reign as the Prince of Baseball. All he had to do was remember one and spiel it off to Danny and his teammates.

After his talk and a half hour spent signing autographs on everything from baseball bats to Gwyn Baker's T-shirt, Caleb realized that despite his disability, he was still the hometown hero. These people were still fans. These boys still worshiped him. And to these women—Gwyn Baker in particular—he was still a heartthrob.

"Have you got plans for dinner tonight?" Gwyn whispered in his ear. "I could get a baby-sitter and we could go over to the Pale Rider for a few beers."

A night with Gwyn Baker might be just what he needed. She seemed to be the type who'd show him a good time and not expect anything else. Just as he started to accept Gwyn's offer, he saw Sheila Vance cross the parking area and head straight toward Danny, who was busy helping Pat Lawley gather up the team's equipment. Pat smiled at Sheila, put his hand on Danny's shoulder and the three of them walked off the field together. They looked like the ideal family.

Caleb's gut tightened. Pat could offer Sheila and her son a commitment, a future as a husband and father. Whereas he couldn't offer them more than a few months of his life, as a lover to Sheila and a buddy to Danny. Pat was the kind of man they needed. He wasn't. He had no right to interfere in Sheila's life, to disrupt anything that might happen between Pat and her.

"I don't have any plans," Caleb told Gwyn. "Tell me where you live and I'll pick you up, say, around seven-thirty."

Gwyn winked at him. "We're going to have us a real good time." She scanned the small group of boys still waiting for rides and called out to her son. "Devin, come on. We've got to go. I'm dropping you by Aunt Brandie's to spend the night."

Gwyn rushed her son to their car and when she backed out, she stuck her head out the window and yelled, "See you at seven-thirty, Caleb. Now don't you be late, sweetie."

Caleb grinned and waved. He felt a hard tug on his left arm and when he looked down, he saw Danny Vance staring up at him.

"Have you got a date with Devin's mom?" he asked.

Sheila and Pat walked up behind Danny. Sheila's gaze locked momentarily with Caleb's.

"Well, yeah, sport, I do. You see—"

"I thought you were going to date Mom and me." Danny swallowed hard. "I know Devin's mom is kind of flashy, but she's not the—"

"Danny, that's enough," Sheila said. "It's not any of your business whom Caleb dates." She gripped her son's tense shoulder.

Danny pulled away from his mother and ran toward their car.

Caleb cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's all right," Sheila said. "Danny will be okay. It's better he realizes now that there's not going to be anything happening between you and me."

Pat put his arm around Sheila's shoulders. "Why don't I go along with you and Danny over at Pete's tonight?"

Sheila forced a smile. "That sounds like a good idea."