I'm thrilled listening to Stella talk animatedly about her time at the gun range while I drive us across town to Anthony’s Italian restaurant. She's so proud of herself for actually taking the shots and while she doesn't feel too confident in herself just yet, we both believe at some point she will. The woman has some serious sass. I knew she’d be able to handle this.
When we pull up to the restaurant, she's still so excited that she jumps out of the car before I can even come around to open the door for her. I take her hand, and we walk inside. I've already made reservations so that we wouldn't have to wait, but we're a little early. I didn't know how long we would be at the range. "Two," I tell the hostess who happens to know me.
"Hello, Trystan." She gives me a big smile.
"Hi, Sydney." I nod, being polite.
"Your table is ready." Sydney looks at Stella and makes note of us holding hands and rolls her eyes before leading us to our table. Here we go. This is the problem with small towns that have little to no crime. People have nothing better to do than to get into everyone else's business.
When we get to our table, I pull the chair out for Stella, who takes a seat, and once she's settled I sit across from her. The hostess drops our menus and tells us that our waitress will be right over. "I'm really proud of you. You did an awesome job at the range."
"Thanks. I was really nervous at first. Dylan and I had always talked about going to a class together and getting permits since we lived in a rougher part of the city." She pauses, sipping her water. "In hindsight, I regret us not doing it."
"What happened?" I ask her gently.
She sighs, "Dylan worked very hard in the financial district. He was slowly climbing the ladder and starting to make good money. We had been discussing the possibility of moving to a better area, but it's expensive to live in New York. He was able to take the subway to work with only a short walk to and from the subway station. Places that were closer to his office were really expensive, so we were waiting on the promotion he was promised. It would have given us the income we needed to get out of the area we were in and move somewhere nicer." She shrugs. "Truth be told, the city is rough almost anywhere so who only knows how much of a difference it would have made. Anyway, Dylan came off the subway late one night and began his usual walk home." She swallows hard. I can see this is difficult for her. I want to stop her, but she has this look in her eye like she needs to get this out. I sit quietly and give her the time she needs.
She's about to continue when the waitress comes over. "Good evening. Can I get you folks something to drink?"
"I'll have a glass of Pinot Grigio please," Stella requests, fighting the lump in her throat.
"I'll have water."
"Great. I'll be back with your drinks and to take your order." We both nod.
She lets out a deep breath. "Where were we?" she asks.
"Dylan was coming home late."
"Oh, yes." She clears her throat. "He was walking home from the subway when a homeless man with a knife mugged him. He pushed Dylan into an alley and stabbed him in the chest several times before taking the money from his wallet. The man ran, leaving Dylan for dead. Someone saw it and called 911, but it was too late. He was gone."
"Stella, I'm so sorry. Had I known this is what you had gone through, I would have spoken to you about the range first. I wasn't thinking." God, I had no idea that she lost her husband so violently, and here I am teaching her how to fire a gun. I feel horrible. All I wanted to do was show her something that I enjoyed doing.
"Don't be sorry. It was a great experience and one I've thought about often. While DJ and I were still living in New York, I was in constant fear. I couldn't leave the house and would only let DJ out to go to school. I thought over time it would get easier, but it didn’t. I couldn't get past the fear that one of us could be next, and it was really affecting him. That's when I decided I had enough of that life. I couldn't live in fear any longer. I sold all of our things, packed our car with as much as I could, and set out for small town country living. It hurt to leave Dylan in New York, but I know he would want me to do whatever I could to keep our boy both happy and safe."
"You are one brave woman."
She shrugs. "I don't feel it sometimes. It's still hard to go out of the house, but I'm a lot less fearful now. I'm getting there. It's been a bit easier since I started working for Misty, and I now have a house. We were living in a hotel just outside of town for a while."
"What made you decide to come here? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled you did, but we’re in the middle of nowhere." Our town really is in the country, and there isn't much here. I mean, we are the total opposite of the city.
"I did some research and chose West Virginia." The waitress returns with our beverages, and we place our order. She orders chicken and broccoli alfredo, and I order chicken parm. She tells us she'll be back shortly, and Stella continues with her story. "To be honest, I didn't exactly know where I was going to settle. I was driving through town when I saw a help wanted sign at Shawmut Diner. I stopped and practically begged Misty for the job. We instantly clicked and she hired me on the spot, pulling the sign from the window," she chuckles. "Misty told me I was destined for the job. She had just put the sign up about twenty minutes prior to me walking in."
"You know I always say everything happens for a reason."
She nods. "I agree. That's why I'm trying so hard to let go and see where this leads us. I feel like my husband is up above guiding me. Like maybe he had Misty put that sign in the window knowing I was coming through here. Maybe this is where he wants me."
"Who knows, but I'm sure glad you're here."
"Me too, and I want to thank you for understanding. I'm trying, Trystan, because I agree that we seem to have a connection. When you walk into the room I smile, and that's something that's been foreign to me for a long time now, but it's not always going to be easy." She sips her wine.
"I get it and I as I said before, we'll move at your pace. I want you to know that you can talk to me. I'll listen, but for tonight what do you say we move on from depressing talk and discuss something else."
I smile. "Fair enough, like what?"
"What do you do for fun?"
"Ha! I haven't had fun in a long time, Trystan. It’s been almost three years since I lost my husband. I've lived like a hermit for so long I'm not sure I know what fun is anymore. What do you do for fun?"
"There isn't much to do for fun around here to be honest. We have the typical mini golf and skate rink. They built the skate park a few years back, but other than that you have to take a small trip to get to some museums and such." I sip my water. "It's funny because I really keep to myself despite what people say about me."
"How did you end up coaching?" I exhale a deep breath. I really didn't want to have to tell her about my DUI, but now I feel like I have no choice. The last thing I want to do is lie to her. "I played ball as a kid right on that same field our team is playing on now. I played all the way through high school, and then I went to community college. I joined the National Guard wanting to serve my country. It helped pay for school while I tried to get onto a minor league team. I was getting pretty close when my guard unit was called to war, and it put everything on hold. I was disappointed but knew when I joined it was a chance I was taking." She gasps in fear. "I'm not in anymore. I had had enough. When my contract was up I got out. I was injured, but it was here at home during a drill weekend. We were working on a building when I fell from the roof and shattered my ankle and messed up my knee. I can walk and do my job just as well as the next man, but the damage was done and so was my baseball career." I pause when the waitress comes back with our food. She offers Stella another class of wine, but she passes and asks for water which the waitress happily delivers. "When I got out I worked hard to get back into the best shape I could. It hurts from time to time, but there are far worse things that could have happened to me."
"Yeah but your baseball career?" She sounds surprised.
"Yeah, I was angry at first. I went a year overseas and came home without so much as a scratch on me, and here I was doing an everyday repair and got hurt, ending my ball career. It was one of the reasons that I decided to leave the military. I didn’t want to finish my career fighting medical profiles, so when they offered me a medical discharge I took it."
"You still do construction, right?"
"I do. I work for the company who is going to help us rebuild the shed. My boss, Rick, is a good friend of mine, and he’s already drawing up the plans for it."
She smiles. "It's a great idea."
"He thought so too."
"So you must be really excited to be involved with baseball again. What made you volunteer? I mean, most people get involved because they have a kid on the team, but you don't have kids, right?"
I chuckle, "No I don't." I pause, taking a bite of my dinner. I use the moment to figure out how to answer this. "I have a buddy who is struggling with his life right now. We often go out for drinks on Friday nights. Last Friday he drank too much, but refused to get into a cab. I had been drinking as well, but thought I was sober enough to get us both home. I was wrong. I was pulled over after nearly crashing my Corvette. My car was towed, and I was arrested." Her eyes go wide. "I know. I screwed up bad, and it scared the shit out of me. As a matter of fact, the guys went out last night but I didn't. I went home. I was in court last Monday, and the judge told me I either coach or do time." I look into her eyes. "I was lucky. He was easy on me, and I know it. I also want you to know that I swear this is not something I make a habit of doing."
"How do you feel about coaching really?"
"Honestly, at first I was pissed. Then the idea grew on me. The judge told me he thought it would be good for both the team and for me, and I think he was right." I smile at her. "Look, I finally got to talk to you about more than a large coffee every morning."
She chuckles but quickly turns serious. "You have to promise me no more drinking and driving. I don't want to sound like a mother hen, but if you're going to be around DJ, you have to be a good influence."
I hold up two fingers. "Scouts honor."
She chuckles again. "You weren't a scout a day in your life."
"You're right, but I mean it. I’ll be a good role model. I want to be one for all of the boys." She gets quiet, but it appears she has more she wants to ask. “What is it?”
She shrugs. “I guess I struggle a little with your reputation. You don’t really seem like a player but I hear the girls talk.”
I sigh. “I was in a serious relationship with a woman named Sophia. I thought we were in love. We were young, she was my high school sweetheart and I thought we would be together forever.”
Her brows furrow. “What happened?”
“She cheated while I was away at boot camp.” I sigh. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought she was the one person I could trust and I was wrong. I wasn’t gone a month and my boy, Caleb, wrote me to tell me what was going on. The first chance I got I broke it off with her.”
“I’m sorry, Trystan. That’s awful.”
I shrug. “When I got home girls started talking saying they went on a date with me. At first, it was funny because it was pissing Sophia off, but then it got old.” I wish I knew what more to say. “I’m not sure that helps you.”
She gives me a small smile. “It does.”
We finally finish our dinner in comfortable silence. We both agree that the food was delicious, and we would like to come back here again.
The ride back to her house is a quiet one. I'm nervous because I don't know what to expect. We didn't discuss doing anything after dinner, and I don't want to push her too far. We've had a fun afternoon and evening, but I also know that DJ is out for the night so there's no need to rush home. When we finally pull into her driveway, she looks over at me with a slight blush on her cheeks. "Would you like to come in for a bit?"
I shut the car off and turn in my seat. "Stella, I had an amazing time with you today. I don't want you to feel pressured. If you truly want to continue our night and have me in, I will gladly accept. Please don't feel like you have to invite me in."
"Now who's being a mother hen?" Her brows shoot up, and she has a slight smile on her face.
I can't help but throw my head back in laughter.
When we get inside, I ask, "What do you want to do?"
"I have a few things I need to do for the fundraiser next Saturday. Do you want to help?"
"Sure."
"Great, I'll be right back. Have a seat at the table." She runs from the room and comes back a minute later with a laptop and supplies. "We need to make something to put over these four jugs, and we need to cut holes in the lids so people can drop money in."
"Do you have a box cutter? I'll cut the holes in the top." She points to a drawer in the kitchen where she keeps random stuff and, sure enough, there's a box cutter in here. It's one of the nicer ones where the knife is in the handle, and it locks so the blade doesn't accidentally slip out. I open the knife and begin cutting at the top of the jugs, leaving holes just big enough for cash or change to be dropped in. By the time I'm done, Stella has printed four signs for the front of the jugs that say Support the Bulldogs. She grabs heavy duty tape and we tape them to the front of the jugs, covering all of the paper in tape so it doesn't get ruined.
"There, that takes care of the jugs. Now we need signup sheets for the bake sale and the storefront."
"Let me know if you have a problem getting people to sign up on Tuesday. I’ll send an email if need be."
"I will." She sits back at her laptop, and I sit beside her while she gets busy creating a signup sheet. She is so organized that for the bake sale she has a list of goods they are trying to collect, and she’s listed them by flavor. Oatmeal cookies, chocolate chip, peanut butter and so on. She's a smart girl having cornbread on that list. We love our cornbread. We discuss other items for the bake sale and decide to stick with what she has. Then we figure out how many boys to have on each shift and for how long. Once the signup sheets are done, I promise to bring her a clipboard for Tuesday night practice.
"Do you need help with anything else?"
She shrugs. "I don't think so. At least not when it comes to the fundraiser." She gets up to put the laptop away, but I stop her.
"What else can I help you with?" My voice is barely a whisper, and I’m inches from her. The scent of vanilla is driving me wild. I have a feeling she's referring to moving on, but I won't dare mention it. She needs to admit if that's what she's struggling with.
She looks down to the floor unable to admit it out loud. Using my hand, I force her to look me in the eyes before I press my lips to hers. It's a soft, sweet kiss that quickly turns to more when her tongue pokes out and meets mine. A small moan escapes her, and her hands gently slide up my chest and into my hair. When I break the kiss she pants, "I love your beard, it's so soft." I smile.
"I'm glad you like it because I'm quite fond of it myself." I lick my lips and press another kiss to hers. "I'm going to get going, but I'll call you."
"Thank you for an amazing night."
"Stick around and I'll show you many more."
"I look forward to it." I kiss her one more time and then head home with a hell of a smile on my face.