More Than Words: Stories of Hope (11 page)

Laura looked at the empty page of the notebook for a few moments, and then sat back, grinning from ear to ear. “Cherise, I haven’t the faintest idea how many kids are on a baseball team. There’s nine on the field at one time, but there’s also a bunch more on the bench. Tell you what. I’ll call Jayne Ann Maitz—her son will be on the team—and maybe the three of us can get together tonight and talk about all of this some more. In the meantime, now that he knows what we’re planning, I’ll raid Charlie’s room for a book on baseball. Oh, and I think I’ll take a look around on the Internet. Somebody must have had this idea already, right? I mean, we’re good, but I doubt we’re original. Maybe I can pick up a few pointers for us somewhere. Does that sound like a plan?”

Cherise nodded, reaching into her purse yet again, this time coming out with her computerized planner. Laura got the feeling that if she’d asked for a kitchen sink, Cherise would have promptly pulled one from her purse. “How about after dinner? Seven o’clock? Oh, and where?”

“You like ice cream?”

“Riley’s,” Cherise said, rubbing her palms together. “I am a glutton for Riley’s. What about this Cohen kid?”

“I think Charlie knows where he lives. We’ll stop off there on our way home, ask his mom if she wants to join us. Because
you know what, Cherise? No men. Not right now at least. They’ll go all logical on us and point out all the problems, and I think we’re safer going into this like wide-eyed optimists, not worrying about pitfalls because we don’t know where to look for them. Plus, I think Jayne Ann is pretty good at baseball—she’ll be our expert for now. And you can bring anyone you think of who might want to become eligible for a good mental health plan—because we’re nuts, you know, Cherise. Certifiably crazy, if we think we can pull this off.”

“I’ll have to tell Bert, since it’s his dad’s land. He’ll be fine with it. Bert learned a long time ago that, with me, it’s easier to just go with the flow, because that way there’s less chance of getting run over. But you don’t want to tell your husband yet?”

“I should. I know I should. Jake’s a wonderful husband, and a wonderful dad. Please don’t think he’s an ogre or something. But he’s kind of tired of being knocked down, and watching Charlie get knocked down. It’s a phase and he’ll get over it. I’d just like to come to him with something already accomplished, something positive.” She tried to smile. “We’ve been taking a few hits lately, you know?”

“Yeah, we all know that story, chapter and verse,” Cherise said, reaching across the table to squeeze Laura’s hand. “We’ll get some good news for him, and then you can hit him with the uppercut.”

The two women giggled like children, until their own children told them to stop.

It wasn’t until she was driving home from Jacob Cohen’s house after speaking with his grandmother that Laura realized she’d sailed—positively sailed—through Charlie’s appointment with the nephrologist, happily accepting his good lab numbers as something to be expected and then forgetting them because she was in a hurry to get home and think more about the baseball team. When was the last time she’d done that? Never. That was the last time. Lab test days were hell, always had been. The waiting, the worrying. But not today. Not since she and Cherise had put their heads together with Charlie and Duane in the cafeteria and started making plans.

It was only when she saw Jake’s car in the driveway that her smile finally left her, because she had just done what he’d warned her not to do, and now she had to tell him.

Did she have to tell him? Cherise thought so, and she was probably right. “Nothing good ever comes from secrets,” she had warned, and then grinned. “Besides, girlfriend, it’s too late for you to back out. We’re already in this up to our necks now that the kids know.”

Laura tried bargaining with herself. She could wait to tell Jake until after the meeting tonight, because maybe their dream would come to nothing, and then there’d be nothing to report.

But Charlie would tell him. She couldn’t ask Charlie, or Sarah, to keep secrets from their father.

So she’d tell him.

After dinner. No, before dinner. Before Charlie got to him.

“Stop it,” she told herself out loud when she realized she was dreading seeing her own husband.

“What, Mom?” Charlie asked from the front passenger seat as he undid his seat belt. “Stop what?”

“Nothing, Charlie. I was just talking to myself. Dad’s home. Why don’t you go tell him about your great lab results?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, opening the car door. “He’ll like that.”

“And that’s probably just about all he’s going to like tonight,” Laura mumbled as she struggled with her own seat belt, then walked into the house, her feet dragging, all her enthusiasm gone.

Maybe if she went on the Internet, as she’d discussed with Cherise, she could find something she could use with Jake as a good argument on how to turn this dream into a reality….

“I
s that it?”

“That’s it.”

The silence, except for a few snatches of birdsong and the sound of an eighteen-wheeler roaring down the highway to their left, was pretty deafening.

“Wow.”

Laura tried to keep her expression neutral, even after Jayne Ann’s rather awed
wow
. “Well, it’s flat,” she said, looking over the weed-choked ground that spread out in front of the three women and Jacob Cohen’s father. Jacob’s mother had died when Jacob was two. And Laura thought
she
had problems. “I mean, there is that, right?”

“Right! There is that,” Jayne Ann said brightly, probably to make up for the less than enthusiastic
wow
. “And it’s not as if anyone is going to run off a cliff into a quarry way out here, not with the highway bordering us on two sides and the—what is that over there?”

“The sewage-treatment plant,” Laura said quietly. “It could be worse.”

“How?” Jayne Ann whispered back. “Granted, I don’t see any warning signs about this being a toxic-waste dump, but it’s pretty terrible, Laura. It will take us years to get this place ready for a baseball court—diamond—whatever. I’m always getting them mixed up, which drives Bobby crazy.”

“Diamond,” Laura said as Cherise and Larry Cohen walked deeper into the weeds. “And, for your information, it’s home plate, not home
base,
and baseball has umpires, not referees. So much for me thinking you’d be our resident baseball expert. Charlie gave me a crash course this morning, and my head is still reeling. I always went to Charlie’s games before he got sick, but I was usually too busy chasing after Sarah to pay much attention to what was going on.”

“You’re lucky,” Jayne Ann said. “Bobby doesn’t share much, although, after I told him about our idea, I did notice that his mitt is back on his desk, not on the floor of the closet underneath his dirty clothes. The dirty clothes are still there, unfortunately. We’re having a serious mental struggle to see who
lasts longer, me, the neatnik—or him, the slob. I think he’s winning. One more day, and I know I’m going to gather up his laundry—before the Health Department steps in and his
room
is declared a toxic-waste dump. So, how’s Jake?”

Jayne Ann had slid in her question just as Laura was smiling at the battle of the dirty clothes, which sounded very familiar. Charlie’s room had been the scene of more than one skirmish over the same problem. Her smile faded slowly. “Good, he’s good,” she said, nodding her head. “We’re good.”

“That bad, huh?” Jayne Ann said, wincing. “I guess you were right to keep him out of this for a while. Or am I wrong, and he would have taken one look at this field and said, ‘Yippee, perfect, just what we need’?”

Laura sighed, remembering something she’d thought yesterday at the hospital. “I’m turning my own husband into an ogre. And he’s not, Jayne Ann. He’s just had enough. He doesn’t want to see Charlie hurt again.”

“Or himself,” Jayne Ann said. “It’s hard, this acceptance thing. And I think it’s harder for men with their sons.”

“Jake played baseball in college,” Laura told her, sighing yet again. “Second base, just like Charlie. He brought a tiny glove to the hospital with us the day Charlie was born.” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture, then let them drop to her sides once more. “He never wanted to live through Charlie, recapture old glory or anything like that. He just wanted Charlie to
enjoy what he’d enjoyed, you know? Oh, and he did. Charlie, that is. Jake made up that little field out back, and I’d watch them every night after dinner, as I washed the dishes. Charlie and his daddy. I wanted rosebushes, a real garden, you know? But I wouldn’t give back one moment of watching the two of them out there for the most beautiful garden in the world.”

She turned away from Jayne Ann, swiped at a tear that had escaped, then turned back with a smile. “Sorry. Jake was pretty good when I told him last night, he really was.”

“But he’s not going to have anything to do with this, is he?”

Laura shook her head. “Not yet, no. But he can’t seem to really give me a reason, and I didn’t push. He just needs some time, Jayne Ann. It’s only been six months. He thought when Charlie was better that everything else would be better, too, that everything would just sort of morph back to the way it was before Charlie got sick. I tried to tell him, more than once, that it wouldn’t be like that, but he’s always been the optimist. Somebody had to be, Charlie needed that. So now it’s my turn to be the cheerleader, I guess, and Jake’s turn to take a little time off, get his head back in gear. It only seems fair, since he’s propped me up plenty over the years. He leaves for Boston tomorrow, on business, and won’t be back for a week. That’s probably a good thing.”

Jayne Ann nodded. “If it keeps him from looking at this field? Yeah, I’d say it’s a good thing. Okay, here come Cherise
and Larry. Put on your cheerleader uniform, because sounding optimistic right now is going to take pom-poms and high kicks to pull off.”

Cherise was busy pulling her electronic notebook and cell phone from her purse as Larry Cohen approached, rubbing his hands together in front of him. Larry was a small man, rather thin, and had a bald spot that actually made him look rather endearing, Laura thought.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Jayne Ann whispered, fluffing her hair. “I mean, I gave up on Hugh Grant years ago, after he was caught with that hooker.”

“Down, girl,” Laura said, trying to regain her good humor. “But, yes, he’s cute. In a sort of ‘take him home and feed him dinner’ sort of way.”

“Thanks, Laura. I’ll have to dig out my lasagna recipe.”

Larry had his endearing smile firmly in place as he stopped in front of Laura and Jayne Ann. “Wrong sports analogy, ladies, but I think we’re going to have to go back ten and punt. There’s just too much work to do here to have a baseball field ready before the first snowfall.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Laura said, her shoulders sagging. “And, you know, it’s not just the field. Charlie said we need—wait, I’ve got a list.” She dug into her own purse and came out with a folded sheet of pink paper with kittens stamped all over it that she’d commandeered from Sarah.

“You really should get one of these, Laura,” Cherise said, holding up her electronic organizer. “Not that the kittens don’t look professional, or anything,” she added, winking at Jayne Ann.

“Hey, in my house, you get what you find, even if that means ripping off a nine-year-old,” Laura said, grinning. Cherise was good for her, she really was. “Okay, here we go. Benches—the team has to sit somewhere. No bleachers, because parents can bring their own blankets and lawn chairs. Bases, home
plate
, some sort of backstop.” She looked at Cherise. “You know what that is?”

Cherise nodded. “I have a vague idea. Go on. I’m typing this all into my organizer. What else?”

Larry started counting out items on his fingers. “A line-marking machine to put down the baselines and batting box every game. Bats, mitts, balls. A pitching rubber. Protective gear for the catcher. Shirts and caps, because we don’t need actual uniforms if we get everyone matching T-shirts and caps.”

“A hot dog, soda and candy stand,” Jayne Ann said, then shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, a girl can dream.”

“So,” Cherise said, closing the organizer, “what we’re actually saying here is money. We need money. Who’s up for robbing a bank? I’m in for driving the getaway car. I just got a tune-up and a new muffler.”

Larry was wearing the rather stunned expression common in men who suddenly realized they were badly outnumbered
by females and couldn’t begin to understand their language. “We, um, we need a sponsor. Maybe more than one. Probably more than one.”

“A sponsor? Oh, wait,” Jayne Ann said. “You mean like we used to have for my bowling league? Although I have to tell you, I think the real reason we disbanded is because nobody could face another year of hot-pink shirts with Sam’s Exotic Delights stamped on the back.”

“You’re making that up,” Laura said, turning around as she heard a pickup truck pulling onto the edge of the field.

“Oh, come on, Laura, who could make that up?” Jayne Ann placed her hands on her hips. “And, far be it from me to be a wet blanket here, but we have only five kids for this team—these teams. Charlie, Jacob, Duane, Bruce Lee Pak and my Bobby. Until and unless we get a field, get
something
, how are we going to attract more players? Who’s that?”

Cherise was waving at the tall man walking toward them. Tall, and fairly close to immense, actually. “That, my friends, is my baby brother. Did I happen to mention that he owns a construction company? You know, a
construction company
? One of those companies that owns bulldozers and backhoes and all those good things? So you can stop worrying about the field. I called him a few minutes ago and he said he’d be right over. He’s so obedient, but that’s probably because I used to babysit him and he’s still afraid of me.”

Laura looked at her new friend in amazement. “Cherise Johnson, have I told you lately that I love you? Now,” she said, rubbing her palms together, “who else has a friend or relative we can use—that is, ask to volunteer?”

An hour later, after a quick lunch at a fast-food restaurant, the four split up, each with their own assignment except for Jayne Ann, who had just gotten her Realtor’s license and had a showing for a customer on the other side of town. Cherise went off to see her sister, who worked for the township (bless the woman, she had eight siblings!), to find out what the chances were that the recreation department had some old baseball equipment lying around that nobody was using anymore. Larry had to go back to work at the bank, but he’d promised to print up some flyers they could deliver to the pediatric departments in all three of the area’s hospitals and to several pediatricians’ offices.

Once those flyers were out, there’d be no turning back!

And that left Laura the job she hated most but felt she had to tackle since it had been her idea—finding sponsors for the teams. When it came to being a salesperson, she’d always thought of herself as the kind who would knock on a stranger’s door, then say, “You don’t want to buy a set of encyclopedias, do you?” Jake could sell sand in a desert, but she’d rather eat that sand than try to do the same thing.

But this time she had a mission, and it wasn’t calendars for
the high-school band, or candy bars for their church group, or even Girl Scout cookies (one of the worst failures of her youth). This time she was raising money for the Heroes. That was the one thing they’d all agreed upon at lunch, the name for their league. The Heroes. Jayne Ann had thought the letters could stand for something and had even come up with Helping Everyone Rise Over…but then they’d all drawn a blank on the ES, so they gave up that idea as a bad job and just stuck with Heroes.

Larry’s “Egregious Stuff” hadn’t been all that bad, really. And definitely much better than Jayne Ann’s pithy suggestion for the S-word.

Laura also had what she believed to be two aces in her pocket—Charlie and Sarah—and she wasn’t above using them, either. Charlie was so damn cute with his shock of red hair and his big smile, and if that didn’t work, Sarah, who had begged to stay home with Brenda, would wear any prospective donor down with her “my dog just died” expression.

Yes, Laura knew, she was shameless. But it was for a good cause, and that’s what she’d keep telling herself.

“So, how much do we need?” Charlie asked as Laura drove along what was known locally as the Golden Strip, home of the two large and four smaller shopping malls in the township. This street had it all—clothing stores, restaurants, automobile dealerships, movie theaters, mattress stores, tanning salons. Laura
looked at all the signs, considering which places she could hit up for money.
Hit up
. Yes, she was feeling rather ruthless.

“I don’t know,” Laura said as she eased up to a red light. “Do you?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Mom, I’m fourteen. But a good mitt is over a hundred bucks, easy, and aluminum bats aren’t much cheaper, although we’ll only need about five or six of those and everyone can share. I’ve got my own mitt and bat, and so does Bobby, but most of the kids won’t, right? And the moms and dads might not be able to afford them, either.”

Laura had a quick mental flash of the parking lot at the dialysis center, the one filled with run-down cars. You could pick out the patients’ cars by their age and condition. It was the first rule of having a chronically ill or disabled child, or adult, for that matter—go quietly broke, no matter how well cushioned you might have been when the Egregious Stuff first hit the fan. She tapped her fingertips against the steering wheel. “Right. Okay, first stop, a sporting-goods store. We’ll price things, and then we’ll go asking for money.”

Their investigation at the sporting-goods store took another hour and added more items to their “we have to have this” list. Laura was beginning to feel the butterflies back in her stomach when she totaled up the figures in her head and decided they needed over a thousand dollars—and that was if everyone on the team chipped in a sign-up fee, which she didn’t want to ask
for. She’d been at the bottom of the well herself and knew that even twenty-five or thirty dollars could sometimes seem like a million. The Heroes were supposed to be an opportunity, not yet another problem, so they’d all decided that the fee would be happily accepted but not mandatory.

With Jake leaving in the morning (and her nervousness threatening to get the better of her), Laura decided they’d had enough for one day, so they stopped at the local grocery store for three freshly cut T-bone steaks for dinner—Jake’s favorite. After all, once he was off to Boston they could eat more hamburgers and pizza, which the kids liked better anyway.

Laura stood in front of the glassed-in meat counter while Sarah scoped out the homemade cupcakes and Charlie opened a bottle of a sports drink and chugged down half of it. For over two years the amount of fluid he could drink a day was severely restricted, so now he was always drinking something.