“I love the asymmetrical height of the fences in the outfield,” she said after a moment.
“It’s not too much?” he asked.
Beth shook her head. “The old Yankee Stadium was like that.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know?”
Beth tapped him on the head. “I’m your mother. I know a lot.” She paused. “So do you. I’m very proud of you, Ruben.
He blushed and mumbled thanks. Beth nibbled on her lower lip.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll become a famous baseball architect, marry Dale and have lots of insane children.”
Frecklie gave her a long look, flipping up his palms questioningly. Beth shrugged and looked away. He tugged on her shoulder, half-turning her face. She stared very deeply.
“I might decide to relocate, honey.”
“What does that mean?”
Beth sighed. “I love someone, too.”
“Puppy?” His wide smile faded in disappointment as she shook her head. He continued, almost angrily, “Who then?”
“Someone else then. You don’t know her.”
“One of your customers?”
“Not really…”
“Dating customers is against the law…”
“Call a Blue Shirt,” she snapped back, softening. “Honey, nothing’s for sure. I’m just saying maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
“Your maybes always mean for certain.”
“There’s nothing for certain except I love you very much.” Beth rubbed his cheek.
“And now you love someone else.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Very much.” Beth left out the part about being scared shitless as she hugged him tightly.
40
After the third wrong turn, Zelda slumped onto a rock, searching for her breath in the humid air.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“It’s a maze, but yeah.” Annette squinted. “You okay?”
“Other than four months pregnant, I’m the bahm diggity.”
Zelda begged Diego to take a nap as she struggled to keep pace down the shadowy corridors, vines creeping up the walls. The cave was like one of those old vidmovs where dinosaurs and flying creatures lived, she thought.
Two Miners popped out of a dark hallway; Annette grabbed Zelda’s hand and burst into tender laughter, two lovers out for a midnight stroll, the kids tucked into bed.
The Miners tipped their rifles as they passed. Annette’s face creased, counting and remembering the steps; she dragged Zelda to the left, down a nearly pitch-black path to a cluster of rocks, where they knelt.
Annette pressed her face through a sliver of a hole, gesturing for Zelda to be patient. Finally she moved aside so Zelda could take a look.
The zipper in the cave spread apart and a jeep filled with soldiers rolled inside. The two guards saluted and resumed wandering around in a very bored patrol.
“Every hour,” Annette said, pressing her mouth to Zelda’s ear.
“How many hours have you studied the pattern?”
Annette held up eight fingers. She hadn’t slept, dragging her garbage bag and broom around this stupid cave, following the trash she figured only adults made; these children were too well behaved to toss a candy wrapper.
“Always vehicles?” Zelda asked, watching the Miners slumping on chairs.
Annette shook her head. “Usually just soldiers.”
“But you’re not positive.”
“As much as I could. We can hide there.” She pointed to a clump of trees. “The door or whatever it is stays open for forty-two seconds. I counted. We slip behind them and out.”
It was a shitty plan, which Annette read in her eyes.
“Got an alternative?”
Zelda shook her head, staring. “Why didn’t you go yourself? It’s a lot easier with one person.”
“I’m afraid,” she murmured. “But once we’re out, you go your way and I go mine.”
Zelda looked at the soldiers again. Will you be at Yankee Stadium, too?
“Okay. I’ll get Clary. Wait here.”
Annette frowned. “We’re going tonight?”
Zelda nodded, remembering Hazel’s look with a shudder.
“I didn’t pack anything.”
Zelda shook her head sadly and, leaving small mounds of pebbles at that archway, leaves by that turn, a footprint there and a torn branch there, cautiously made her way back to the cabin.
Clary slept peacefully, hands in prayer on her side, Yankees cap over her face. Zelda stuffed some of the child’s clothes in a plastic bag and shoved it under her blouse next to Diego. Clary’s half-eaten plate of greens rested on the communal table; Zelda pocketed the knife and fork.
Zelda gently shook Clary awake. The girl held a sharpened stick.
“We go Puppy Beisbol.”
Clary bounded happily off the bed and followed Zelda past the row of sleeping children toward the front door. A little girl with long blonde hair suddenly sat up and said something in a guttural tongue; Zelda froze.
Clary leaned over and whispered, “Balspel.”
Her Dutch friend smiled and went back to sleep.
Well-trained, Clary kept quiet as they hurried through the cave. When they arrived at the meeting place, Annette was gone.
Left without them. Or set a trap.
Clary sensed something was wrong. “Hazel?”
Zelda shushed her, frantically trying to read her watch and calculate when the zipper would open.
“Where Hazel?” Clary insisted.
“Will you tell your child to be quiet?” Annette hissed as she climbed out from behind a tree.
“Where were you?”
“Peeing like a dog. Did you bring me extra underwear?”
“She come?” Clary glared.
“Yes, she come. She idea.” Annette glared back. “Tell me you at least brought a toothbrush.”
“And three changes of shoes.” Zelda snorted. “When does the cave open again?”
“In fifteen minutes.”
They huddled behind the trees as the guards discussed their latest sexual conquests; Clary paid particular attention. The zipper unraveled slowly and they slunk deeper. Chill, Diego. Please chill.
A Miner wandered in lugging unmarked brown boxes on a dolly. They debated a moment about whose responsibility unloading the cartons were. Finally they decided they’d all share in the work, unslinging the rifles from their shoulders and dragging the dolly onto a path.
Annette nudged Zelda, who grabbed Clary’s hand as they hurried toward the six-foot wide opening. Diego stirred and Zelda groaned.
The guards turned, rifles pointing.
“Hey,” one of them called.
“Go,” Zelda rasped over her shoulder at Annette and walked toward the guards with a bright smile. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Annette clutched Clary’s wrist, stepping uncertainly toward the opening.
Thirty seconds left.
“Isn’t this a lovely day for a walk?”
The
