Rique slapped him on the back. “Today’s a new day. You ready?”
Today was a new day, or rather a new place. When he was living there with his wife, it’d held such promise. Now, it was as empty as his heart. No, that wasn’t right. It was still so full of her…
“I will be.”
Mac was standing at the door of the clubhouse as the players made their way out to the dugout and the field, patting their asses, calling out that they had this and that he trusted them to get the job done. After Mateo trotted out to third base, exchanged a couple of around-the-horn throws from the infield players, he grounded himself with the thought that if he couldn’t have her, he’d have this game. He needed to rise to the occasion and prove to himself he could do it. He’d grieve off the field, not on it. He’d put himself on automatic and go with his instincts. He’d repeated his routine enough that he should be able to throw to first in his sleep. And he’d managed to do his job, if not like he could, well enough to keep the bases clear. It helped that
Keogh was on the mound and crushing it. By the fourth inning they were leading two to nothing. Rique had grounded out, and he’d popped out to shallow left, Reyes the only one on base when Ovitz blasted the ball over the wall for a home run. It had put them ahead, but he had wasted his times at bat, and he was beginning to sink into depression. He’d made no contribution to the team in two days out of three. It was not the way to begin his career in America. Baseball was a mental game, but he was dividing his attention between two opposing forces. Thoughts of his wife were pulling him away from the field. He was tired of thinking, tired of concentrating. His mind had not been at rest since Allie let him walk away, and he needed to shut her out, needed to quiet the storm still raging. When the inning was over, he watched from the sidelines. His next time up, he wasted another trip to the plate, his high fly ball easily caught by the center fielder. Keogh was done after the fifth inning, but Mac had kept all of his regulars in to see if they couldn’t turn the tide. Ruis was now on the mound, but he had nothing on the ball and at the end of the inning, the score was Cubs five, Greenies two.
Only when the bench coach yelled over to him did he realize he was next up at bat.
When he went out to the on-deck circle in the seventh inning, his bat felt like lead. He swiveled his head, wanting to work out the kinks, wanting to crawl into a cave and hide, wanting to hit the blasted ball all the way to…wherever Allie had disappeared to.
And then he saw her, standing in the dugout, next to Mac. His heart began to beat again. Just seeing her was balm for his senses. He squinted into the afternoon sun. Was she pointing at him? Or was it his vivid imagination? It had been creating all kind of hallucinations, especially at night, when she’d come to him in his dreams.
He leaned forward, feeling foolish thinking she wanted his attention, when she was probably here to talk to Mac. As she continued gesturing to him, he became certain she was trying to tell him something. He moved out of the glare and, through the haze, saw her miming something with her hands, which were fisted and over her heart. He shook his head, unable to decipher it. When her fingers created a heart, he glanced up to her face, and as their gazes locked, there was a moment of sizzling awareness and he began to breathe normally for the first time in days. It was only when he heard the crack of Reyes’ bat, that his attention went to the field. He hadn’t realized it, but the pitcher who’d replaced Ruis was on third, Rique was on second, and Reyes had just beat out the perfect bunt and was standing on first. The bases were loaded. This was it. His existential wind had returned, blowing against his back, and a feeling of calm washed over him as he strode to the plate. Before assuming his stance, he glanced back to see Allie still standing there, her hands held tightly in front of her chest.
He nodded to her and he was rewarded with one of her smiles. The power of it settled inside of him and he knew what he was going to do.
It took until the count was three balls and two strikes for him to get the right pitch, but when the Cubs hurler made the mistake of throwing it right over the plate, he swung with one, smooth, clean motion and the ball went careening in the direction of the bleachers and it didn’t drop until it had cleared them.
The fans went wild, the players who’d scored ahead jumped all over him as he cleared home plate, and the rest of the team was waiting to high-five him when he hit the dugout. He scanned the area for the woman who’d been here rooting him on, with her heart in her hands.
But she wasn’t there. He scanned every inch of the dug-out and that’s when he noticed Mac nodding in the direction of the clubhouse. He swiftly descended the few steps it took to reach it, and it was then that he saw her. For one brief moment they stared at each other. His breath held. He didn’t know whether to advance or
