Trent (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #4) (14 page)

“I’m sure she loves it, sweet
pea. You did a good job.”

Kaelyn glances down at her
card. “How am I supposed to give it to her, so she can keep
it?”

Thinking quickly, I pick up
her card. “We can fold it like this and stick it in with her
flowers. Then, she’ll have it.”

She seems like she wants to
object, but she doesn’t. Kaelyn stares at the headstone and we sit
quietly for a few minutes. “Daddy, am I going to get another
mommy?”

My head snaps to her. “What?
Why are you asking?”

“Piper got another mommy.”
Piper, the friend she stayed with last week. “Her daddy said she
has her mommy and another, new mommy for when she goes to his
house. Now she has two mommies.”

What the hell am I supposed
to say to her? I swallow hard. “You’ll always have your mom as an
angel, watching over you. That’s all I know.”

Kaelyn frowns. “But I thought
you knew everything? Mommy would say I should always listen to you
because you were smart and knew everything. How come you don’t know
if I’ll have another mommy?”

“Because that’s something I
can’t know.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you ready to leave?” I
ask.

She nods and we stand. I take
her hand. As we turn to walk back to my car, she looks over her
shoulder at the headstone and waves goodbye.

***

THE DAYS SEEM to drag on
and the week seems like an eternity. Sleeping seems to a memory of
something I did long ago. Eating doesn’t seem appealing either. I’m
living on coffee and wine, and I’m not sure how I’m even
functioning at work. Stacks of folders are piling up, and each day
I try to shuffle more paperwork out. I don’t even want to be at
work, but I don’t want to be at home either. I don’t want to be
anywhere because every little thing reminds me of Trent.

It shouldn’t because I barely
know him. I haven’t fallen in love with him. I’m not tied to him in
any manner. Well, that isn’t entirely true because we’re bonded
together by a tragedy. It’s a Greek tragedy written of old, and I’m
a part of it.

I care about Trent because my
brother dramatically changed his life and his daughter’s. I care
about Trent because he’s a good guy and good guys shouldn’t be
planning their wife’s funeral after a few years of marriage. A
little girl shouldn’t grow up without a mother. Deborah was a
different kind of mother than I had. She was good and she
cared.

Now, I’m officially alone. I
should have a large pity party for myself because I’m an honest
person and couldn’t lie to Trent.

There’s a loud knock on my
front door. The time on my clock says it’s after midnight, and it’s
never good news when someone comes calling at this hour. I peak
through the lookout and see Macy.

“What’s wrong?” I swiftly
open the door.

She holds up two large
bottles of wine. “I’m not working tomorrow even though it’s
Saturday and I’ve not taken a day off in over three years. My best
friend hasn’t answered my phone calls, my texts, or the pigeon I
sent earlier with a little scroll attached to his neck. I figured
you found some new, hip, younger friend and were bar hopping and
then I remembered you don’t bar hop. So, it hit me that my dear
best friend bared her soul to Trent Baker and is now crying into
her empty wine glass. Am I right?”

I laugh through the tears as
Macy walks over the threshold and hugs me awkwardly with the
bottles still clenched in her hands. “Have I told you lately I love
you?”

“No, bitch, you haven’t.” She
releases me, heading toward the kitchen. “And since you’ve rudely
ignored me for over a week, we need to drink.” She pops open the
first bottle of wine and pours us each a glass. “You told him the
truth, huh?”

“I couldn’t let him find out
from anyone else. I’m not a con artist and I owed it to him to hear
it from me. I have enough respect for him and his daughter to be
honest with him.” I gulp my wine.

“What happened?”

I scoff. “What do you think?
He ran off and I haven’t heard a single word from him.”

“Have you called?”

I twist the wine glass in my
hands several times before answering her. “I thought about texting
him, you know, to make sure he’s okay, but I never hit send. I want
to so badly, but I—”

“Do you think he’ll answer
back if you did?”

“Let’s see.” I raise my voice
as I continue, “Would you answer the sister of the man who killed
your wife? No, you wouldn’t! Instead, you delete her number, put a
restraining order on her, and make sure you hired security for your
daughter!”

Macy’s eyes are wide. “Did he
do that?”

I sigh and finish my glass of
wine in two quick gulps. “No. No, he didn’t because I’ve cut all
contact. It’s better this way.”

Macy’s stunned look changes
to sadness. “You really liked him?”

“He’s a good guy and they are
few and far between,” I say sadly. “Yes, I did.”

She pats my hand and pours
more wine into my glass. “Well, I think this calls for a long night
of bad black and white movies, popcorn, and wine. What do you
say?”

“Perfect.”

The night with Macy helped a
lot and when Monday rolls back around, I’m ready to head back to
work. I have my career, which I love, and I’m going to focus on it.
I need to move on. Trent is just another chapter in my life and
it’s over, but
my
book isn’t finished yet.

When I leave work, I debate
whether to go to the gym or not. I still can’t decide if I should
change to a different gym. It sucks because this gym is clean and
close to my house, but it’s possible I’ll run into Trent.

You can do this.
I
give myself a quick pep talk and park my car in the gym parking
lot. I’m about ten feet from my car when I bump into someone.

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping
past him.

“Wait. Are you Mrs.
Knowles?”

I look at the man strangely.
He’s young, maybe twenty-one. His hair and clothes look like he
just rolled out of the bed. “I’m
Miss
Knowles.”

He quickly digs into his
messenger bag and pulls out a crumbled piece of paper. “Scarlett
Knowles?”

“Who are you?” I suddenly
take two steps back.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He sticks
out his hand. “I’m Junior from the Memphis Paper Blog.”

“Junior? The Memphis Paper
Blog?” I never heard of the blog and who goes by
Junior
?

“Yep. I’m one of their new
bloggers and I want to ask you a couple of questions.”

I take another step back and
cross my arms. “I’m sorry, but I doubt you have any topic you need
to ask me questions about.”

“Well, you see.” He points to
my name on the piece of crumbled paper. “Your name is on the list
of visitors for Dominic Davis. I’m covering the trial and I’ve been
doing some digging. I was wondering who you are.”

“How did you find me?” My
name has been kept out of the papers. Not one reporter has made a
connection to Dominic and me. Macy hasn’t even reported my
name.

“Oh, um...I called your
office and someone told me this is your gym.”

“Please leave me alone and
any question you ask, my answer will be ‘no comment.’” I don’t know
why I’m being formal, but I’m not going to talk about Dominic. The
trial is over and the sentencing happens soon. Therefore, I don’t
need to say anything.

I nod to the young kid, push
past him without saying another word, and head into the gym. I
should have gone back to my car and driven home, but I need to run.
I miss running. It's the only time I can clear my head and think
clearly.

Ten miles flies by as I pound
hard on the treadmill. I keep my mind clear of the reporter who
just cornered me. I don’t think about the potential destruction of
my life. No, I’m not going to dwell on it all. I
am
going to
start a new chapter in my life and it’s going to be the best
ever.

I hop off the machine and pat
my face dry with a clean towel as I head toward the locker room.
Then it happens. The one thing I don’t need to happen, does.

Trent.

Our eyes catch each other and
my heart drops. He looks beyond sad. He looks the same way I did
when I first ran into him a few months ago.

I did this.

My deception in not telling
him about Dom right away has set back the progress of putting his
life back in order. I debate saying anything, but we’re walking
almost the same path as I’m headed toward the locker room and he is
coming toward the machine.

“Hi,” I finally choke out as
we come closer. Should I say anything else?

“Hey, how have you been?”

“I’m well. Um...are you
okay?” My nerves are bouncing as I talk to him.

“Sure. Are you? You haven’t
been here lately.”

“Oh...yeah...well...I’ve been
busy with work and stuff. I saw the highlights this past week,
you’re doing well. Congrats.” My voice cracks a bit.

“Thanks. How are Joey and
David?”

“Good. They still talk about
their tour and David had three RBIs in his first game. You’d think
he was Blake Foster.” I try to joke in hopes to calm myself
down.

Trent offers a small grin.
“Tell him good job for me.”

“I will. It was nice talking
to you again Trent. I mi—” I stop. I can't tell him I miss him.
There's no way. “I hope you have a good week.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I spin on my heels and rush
away from him.

***

NORMALLY, I WOULD be at
the park for practice right now. However, I get the day off because
Kaelyn is graduating from Kindergarten. She was more excited about
dressing up than anything else. This morning was one of the most
stressful I’ve had in a long time. She wanted her hair curled.
Curled! She had to find the curling iron for me because I didn’t
even know where it was.

Let me just say, curling hair
is freaking hard.

Not only that, but Kaelyn
yelled and cried within the first ten minutes because I was “doing
it wrong.” I probably was. When I asked her how I was supposed to
do it, she shrugged. It was very helpful. I did get the hang of it
though and managed to give her some decent curls.

Today has simply been too
emotional. From the morning tantrums to the near curling disaster
to attending the event without Deborah. Granny had a checkup with
her doctor that she couldn’t get rescheduled, so I’m Kaelyn’s lone
supporter. But she got her curls and is wearing the dress with the
yellow flowers that I bought her not too long ago during
daddy-daughter day, and she’s smiling. For that reason alone, the
day will count as a success.

We are in my car after the
ceremony and Kaelyn says, “Daddy, I need a favor.”

“What do you need?” I ask
curiously as I pull into the line of cars waiting to exit the
parking lot.