Ralph Freeman’s team held on to their comfortable lead in the bottom of the seventh and our game could finally get underway.
First though, each team had to line up at home plate and let the
Dwight won the coin toss, elected to be the home team, and we took the field a little before six-thirty.
Colleton County is mostly sandy soil, but the ball diamond has a thick layer of red clay that was dumped here when the Department of Transportation widened the four-lane bypass less than a quarter-mile away as the crow flies.
With so much humidity, my feet soon felt as if I had about five pounds of clay clogged to the bottom of each sneaker, but that didn’t stop me from making a neat double play when Jason Bullock hit a grounder through the box in the first inning.
Reid had arrived, cool and debonair, just in time to have his picture taken, but I didn’t get to speak to him till the bottom of the second when I hit a double, then moved to third—Reid’s position—on a pitching error.
He just smiled when I needled him about getting there late.
“Is she in the stands?” I asked. “Or doesn’t she care for ball games?”
“Not
Top of the seventh, tied three all, and Millard King doubled to score Portland before we could get them out. Heat lightning flashed across the sky and there were distant rumbles of thunder. As shadows lengthened across the field, the floodlights came on. We were down to our last out when Avery walked me. Then Dwight stepped up to the plate and smacked the first pitch clear over the right field fence for the only home run of the game. I was waiting for him at home plate and gave him an exuberant hug.
A gang of us went out afterwards for beer and pizza—Portland and Avery’s treat. Jason Bullock and one of their paralegals joined the two Deeds clerks who’d scored in the fifth inning, the dispatcher, Dwight and me. Everybody else, including my randy cousin Reid, pled previous commitments. Our waiter pushed two tables together and we sat down just as the rain started.
“They say Edouard’ll probably miss the coast,” Avery said as fat drops splattered against the window behind him. “Fran’s still out there though.”
Lavon, the small trim dispatcher, said, “And Gustave’s tooling along right in behind her.”
“I’m real mad at Edouard,” said the paralegal (Jean? Debbie?), giving him a pretty little frown. “I bought me a brand new bikini to wear to the beach this weekend but I was afraid to go with a hurricane maybe coming in. And then it blew right on past us so I stayed home for nothing.”
I instantly hated her. It’s taken constant vigilance to keep my weight the same as it’s been since I was twenty, but even on my skinniest days, there’s no way I’d ever have the nerve to wear a bikini in public.
Beneath her mop of tight black curls, Portland was looking indecisive, but not about bikinis. She and Avery have a condo at Wrightsville Beach and a small boat with an outboard motor for waterskiing and puttering around the shoals. “Bertha didn’t hurt us, but if we’re going to keep getting bad storms—?”
Avery nodded. “Maybe we’d better run down tomorrow, close the shutters and bring the boat back up here.”
Our pizzas arrived amid trash talk and laughter as we rehashed the game. Jason jazzed me that he’d given me such an easy double play that I owed him a good decision on his next DWI defense. We didn’t get into courthouse gossip till there was nothing left of our pizzas except a logpile of crusts. As I suspected, the paralegal had her eye on Lavon and cut him out of the pack as soon as we’d finished eating.
That broke up the party.
Rain was falling heavier as Dwight and I drove back toward Cotton Grove, with the taillights of Jason Bullock’s car ahead of us all the way till we turned off onto Old 48 and he kept going on into town.
By the time we drove into my yard, the rain was coming down so hard that we sat in the truck a few minutes to see if it’d slack off.
“You were right,” I told Dwight as rain thundered on the truck roof. “Tonight was fun. I’m glad you asked me to fill in, but I have a feeling I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”
“You probably ought to soak in a hot bath and take a couple of aspirin before you go to bed.”
“Come in for a nightcap?”
“Naw, I’d better get on. Mother’ll be expecting me.”
He reached out and gave my ponytail a teasing tug. “Out there on the field tonight, with your hair tied up in that red ribbon, you looked about fourteen again.”
I grabbed my glove, leaned over to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek, and opened the door.
“Deb’rah—?”
I looked at him inquiringly.
He hesitated, then turned the key in the ignition. “Let me see if I’n get a little closer to the door so you don’t get wet.”
“Don’t bother.” I opened the truck door wide and stepped out into the downpour. “Feels good.”
I held my face up to the sky and let the warm rain pelt my face. I was instantly soaked to the skin with my clothes plastered to my body, but since I was going straight in the bathtub anyhow, what difference did it make?
