Chapter Four
Lucy
Of all the infuriating, stuffy, stick-up-the-ass ball players. Lucy fumed as she searched for a seat with good light that wouldn’t burn her retinas at the same time. So what if she got lost? The ball fields were at the very end of school property, in a field that wasn’t even remotely attached to the main parking lot. She’d had to circle twice to figure out where the sports complex lot was. It was an honest mistake, really.
And that Coach guy looked like he might be as fun as a root canal without laughing gas. Too bad, because he was cute as hell. Blond, blue-eyed, tallish, great shoulders, nice butt. She’d taken a good hard look as he led the little pitchers through their first drill. Still, Coach struck her as the kind of guy who only read baseball books and took everything way too seriously. Definitely not her type.
Lucy bent over her baby blanket. It was sweaty work, hand-embroidering a wool blanket in the Texas-in-July sun, even if it was only nine-thirty. But she had to finish it, and she didn’t have time to waste these days. She didn’t feel good about leaving Otis by himself, though. Part of it was her over-protective streak, but part of it was pride, and she knew that. She was scared if she left, she’d lose track of time and show up late to pick up Otis. Not for the first time, she cursed her inability to maintain her sense of time or direction. Mom said it was because she was so right-brained and creative, but Lucy wondered if there was something wrong with her internal compass and her internal clock.
As she sweated and stitched, tings from metal bats and the whomp of balls in gloves filtered up from the field. Little boys chattered, followed by the deeper voices of their coaches.
Coaches. She snorted. More like high school guys living out their hero worship.
Except…
“Otis!” His coach’s voice rang out. “That was fantastic!”
Lucy’s head snapped up to see Otis dance around on the pitcher’s mound. His coach patted him on the shoulder, then squatted so he was eye level with her brother, pointing and gesturing. Otis soaked in every word, standing more still than she’d ever seen. Finally, he nodded at his coach, put the ball in his glove, then wound up and pitched. The high school guy at the plate caught it, then mimed shaking his hand out, like Otis’s pitch had been hard enough to hurt.
His coach laughed and gave Otis a fist bump before calling up the next kid. Her brother was beaming with pride. Ever since Dad had been called up from the reserves to active duty in February, Otis had barely smiled, but today he stood tall. A pang of envy ate at Lucy’s stomach. She’d tried so hard to keep him happy while Dad was overseas, but a guy Otis barely knew could make him grin where she couldn’t.
Tears stung her eyes. Dad had been gone five months and might be gone five more before they saw him again. He understood her better than Mom did. So it wasn’t just Otis who had trouble smiling these days.
After an hour, the sun beat down on her too much, and Lucy was forced into the shade. Determined to work, she used the flashlight on her phone to illuminate the tiny gear joints on a stork’s leg. She’d decided to put a caterpillar with a top hat on the corner as a little extra touch, but she didn’t have the thread for it, so she worked to finish the stork so she could really detail the caterpillar back at her worktable.
“Look at that,” a woman said. “What gorgeous work.”
Lucy looked up and smiled. “Melody’s Quilt Shop. We do custom pieces, and we have some ready made.”
“Is that the cute little place in historic downtown?” the woman next to her asked. She nudged her friend. “The tea room is two doors down. We should do some shopping.”
“Definitely.” The women gave her friendly nods before turning back to watch the boys play.
Well, if nothing else, sweating her butt off was resulting in potential sales. Serena found it hilarious that Lucy would worry about this stuff when she was only seventeen, but after she graduated high school and studied business and apparel design in college, Lucy had plans to open her own sewing shop. Maybe even build up a chain. All with a needle, a few specialty embroidery machines, and lots of thread. Sure, she had more orders than she could handle at the moment, but if it got her name out there, she’d forego some sleep.
Practice ended precisely at noon, Otis’s coach calling the others in. He must be more than just the pitching coach— He was the ringleader. There was an older man watching everything, probably the high school coach, but his team was running the show.
Lucy took her time packing up her supplies, waiting for the field to clear. Otis stuck to his coach like a burr on a wool sock, following him around, helping clean up all the gear. When Lucy made it to the gate, Otis pretended not to notice. The coach shot her a wry smile and guided her brother over.
“You did great today. Go home, rest that arm—a little ice is good. We’ll work on hitting tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Coach Dylan! See you tomorrow!” Otis came through the gate, waving, his bag slung over his shoulder. “That was awesome, Lu. I want to be early tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.” She glanced back at the coach. “Is his last name or first name Dylan?”
“First name. He wouldn’t let me call him Coach Dennings.” Otis laughed. “He said that sounded too much like his dad.”
Dylan Dennings. Lucy didn’t think she’d heard his name before, but Suttonville was a huge school, and she knew barely a third of the students in her class. Plus, she didn’t run with the athletic, popular, or rich crowd. Her friends tended to be more interesting.
“Glad you had fun, Squirt. Let’s grab some lunch and head to the shop.”
“Burgers?” Otis asked, eyes pleading.
At least he didn’t suggest chicken nuggets, which was all he ate for the first two months Dad was gone. “Burgers it is. In fact, I’ll take you to Dolly’s for a shake to go with it.”
Otis whooped and raced for the car. Lucy paused, sensing eyes on her back. When she turned, she found Dylan watching her.
She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not.
“Dylan Dennings,” Serena said, forehead scrunched up. “Blond?”
“Yeah. He’s cute but way too…stiff for my taste.”
“Hey.” Serena waggled her eyebrows, jangling the eyebrow ring above her right eye. “‘Stiff’ is a trait I want in a certain part of a guy.”
“Oh my God.” Lucy covered her face. “I was not talking about that. He’s…serious. The look he gave me when we showed up late? It was like I personally disappointed him. It’s just baseball camp, not a congressional hearing, or something.”
“Hmm. But he’s cute?”
Lucy nodded. “And he was nice to Otis.”
“Total fixer-upper.” Serena grinned. “If I wasn’t smitten, I’d give a guy like that a shot.”
“And how is the love of your life these days?”
“Cuddly as a teddy bear and as skilled as a romance novel hero.” Serena winked. “I think he’s still kind of surprised I asked him out, but we get along pretty well.”
Lucy wasn’t sure she wanted to imagine Serena’s boyfriend in the sack—no, she was absolutely sure she didn’t—but her friend hadn’t been this feisty in a while, so she let it pass. “Good. What about when he leaves for school?”
Serena shrugged and handed Lucy a shovel. “We’ll play it by ear. SMU is only forty minutes away. It’s not like he’s going out of state.”
Lucy wished she could be so matter-of-fact about guys. “I guess that’s better than being single and bored with high school guys.”
“You haven’t found the right one, yet. They aren’t all immature assholes.” Serena led Lucy out into the pasture, where they were greeted by joyous clucking. “Seriously, I think you ought to check out this Dylan guy.”
“I don’t date athletes. I like guys who, you know, read instead of watch ESPN all night long.” Lucy sighed. “I think I’ll say forget it until I’m in college. I want a guy with fire for something more than a kegger by the lake. Someone willing to go ziplining in Peru, backpacking in Australia, or museum hopping in Paris. Someone fun, multi-dimensional.”
“Mine’s taken.” Serena flashed her a smile. “Cheer up. Maybe the boyfriend fairy will drop Mr. Perfect in your lap. Now, let’s get busy. These hens need to go to bed so we can go out.”
Lucy filled a tin cup full of freeze-dried mealworms and shook it as Serena called, “Here, chickies. Here chick, chick, chick!”
Forty hens scurried in their direction. In the chicken run on the other side of the fence, a protest of clucking started when the hens realized they had to wait for their turn. Lucy laughed and left a trail of worms for the chickens to lure them into the coop. Serena’s dad had four large chicken runs across the two acres behind their farmhouse. They were technically inside town limits, but barely. That’s what made Lucy so mad about the pending ordinance. Their nearest neighbor was six acres away— The chickens weren’t bothering anyone, and they ate all the grubs and slugs off the tomato beds, not to mention the mosquitos. Plus, their dog, Millie, was awesome at chasing off hawks and herding the hens if they were too rowdy. It was the perfect operation.
After settling the last flock into their coop, Serena and Lucy went into the work shed to pull off their rubber boots and change into sandals. A soft breeze rustled the feedbags by the door, and Lucy breathed deep. Most people wouldn’t enjoy a chicken farm, but she did. The chickens were funny and cute, and her mom appreciated fresh eggs. Lucy would’ve helped around the farm for free, but she usually walked out with a dozen organic, free-range eggs.
She followed Serena around the side of the house to the car. Her dad had left behind his beloved Jeep Wrangler, allowing Lucy to drive it until he was back home. “North pier, right?
“Yep. I brought some cookies and stuff. It’s a nice night for a little cruise.” Serena hopped into the passenger seat. “And if we happen to pull up a few campaign signs for the mayor on the way, so be it.”
Lucy gave her a tight smile. “So be it.”