Chapter Sixteen
Maisy’s students squirmed by the door, waiting to walk to art class. They were riled up today, as if it were a Friday. She placed a hand on one girl’s shoulder to get her to lower her voice. She turned off the light and waited for the kids at the end of the line to quiet down. Classroom management was something they’d never taught her when she studied education in college. It had taken years for Maisy to figure out simple tricks that didn’t involve all-out yelling.
Once her class was ready, she nodded to the young man in front, who was going to be taller than she was by the end of the year. “All right, David, you can lead the line.” David was the first one to get distracted and wander from the class. Ironically, he did best at the front of a line, proud when given the responsibility.
Maisy left her students in the second-floor art room, checked in with the reading specialist to discuss a student, and hurried back to her classroom. With any luck, she could finish grading this morning’s math quiz so she could hand it back at the end of the day.
When she reached her classroom, she was surprised to see the principal, Dr. Harding, standing in her doorway, an unusually wide smile plastered on her face.
“Maisy, you have a visitor.”
Kevin was standing under the poster of Andrew Luck reading Hatchet. What a contrast. Andrew Luck was a Stanford grad, an athlete who didn’t have to be told to read. A man who had an actual book club.
“Hey, Maisy.” Kevin waved at her as if they were ten years old again, getting ready to sit down on the carpet.
“Kevin, what are you doing here?”
Kevin put his hands in his pockets. “They wanted to get a video of me throwing a ball with a few kids and I can’t do it tomorrow. My agent and the photographer are out with the camera crew looking for the best angles on the playground.”
Maisy clenched her teeth. “I’ve got to grade a quiz by the end of the day, Kevin. I don’t have time for this—”
Dr. Harding readjusted her collar. “Teachers. Always trying to get a little work in when the kids are out of the room. Maisy is very dedicated. But what’s a little test to having a real baseball player in the building? Maisy can put it off until next week.” She turned her back on Kevin and widened her eyes at Maisy. “Right, Maisy?”
Maisy let a frustrated puff of air escape her lips and prepared to give in.
“Maybe we should wait until school is out.”
Maisy twisted around to see Sam leaning against her desk, his legs casually crossed in front of him. He wore his power clothes again. Lightweight gray dress pants, a light blue shirt, and a navy sports coat.
“You!” Dammit. She hated how the shirt set off his eyes.
Dr. Harding made a tittering sound of distress. “These two gentlemen arrived within ten minutes of each other. Aren’t we lucky to have them here, Maisy? You’ve met Mr. Hunter, right?”
“We know each other,” she said.
The innuendo was lost on the principal and Kevin. Not Sam. Those blue eyes sparkled like the devil and made her regret she said anything.
Sam nodded at the clock. “So, the end of the school day is in an hour and a half, right?”
“It is. But if you two gentlemen need to hit the road, we can certainly accommodate you. I can get a sub up here to help Maisy,” Dr. Harding said.
Sam lifted his shoulders. “I’m in no rush. Are you, Kevin?”
Kevin was looking at the poster above his head. “As long as I can get out of here in time to get back to Indianapolis, I’m good.”
Maisy couldn’t resist. “Not going to visit your mother, Kevin?”
Dr. Harding spoke up. “Oh, she’s in my book club. I’ll let her know you surprised us today. She’ll be so happy!” She rushed out of the room.
“Wait.” Kevin followed her into the hallway.
Maisy wanted to run and plead with them not to leave her alone with Sam. She was terrified she might throw herself at him like she had a few weeks ago. It took everything inside her to stay where she was.
He, on the other hand, looked relaxed, with his casual posture and his asymmetrical brows that didn’t even waver. He certainly didn’t look like a man who had shagged a woman for a career boost.
He took a long, even breath. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now.”
“You do, do you?” Her tone was shrill. And the question was silly. Unlike him, she couldn’t keep the emotion out of her voice.
“I’m not proud of how I behaved that night.”
Which night? The night they’d made love? Was that what he was saying? That he regretted it?
“From the moment you opened the door, I did everything wrong,” he said.
Maisy felt like a gorilla was jumping on her chest. Was he going to admit that he should have pushed her away when she held up the tequila and threw herself at him? Explain that he didn’t want her and the feelings were one-sided?
He continued, “I was so tongue-tied. I should have said something.”
Her heart sank. Please shut up, Sam. She didn’t want to hear the sorry details. She rushed to cut him off. “You don’t have to make excuses. I practically attacked you and you had no choice.”
His head came up. “What are you talking about?”
She hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Maisy. I’m talking about the night of the gala. I was an idiot for not telling you how beautiful you were right away.”
Her body shuddered, and the gorilla disappeared, leaving her light headed. It was such a relief that Sam didn’t regret their lovemaking that she almost forgot the other half of her anger. There was a bigger issue to discuss.
“Wait. How do you explain getting me to Indianapolis in the first place? Other than breaking your toe, you had it all planned, right? You arranged the tequila and the apartment. Just like Zoom said, you even slept with—”
He stepped toward her. “No! That was not planned. I swear it.”
“But Zoom said it himself. He joked with half the table that he told you to sleep with me if that would get me out to the stadium.”
Sam cast his eyes to the ceiling as if he were deciding what to say. When met her gaze, he spoke in a voice that was so low she wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “He did tell me that…I have to be honest.”
Honesty was something that should have happened already. It wasn’t something you started halfway through a relationship. It wasn’t something you started after you slept with someone. She moved to the back of the room and crouched down to pick up books that were scattered across the rug.
He followed her. “From the moment you handed me the channel changer and left Plato’s, I was unsettled. I told myself it was a good thing we never exchanged numbers or arranged to see each other.”
“You’re damn right it was,” Maisy said, stuffing the books one by one on the bookshelf in the back of the room. “Too bad you ruined everything by driving to Comeback and begging me to help the team.”
“When I found out that Kevin’s lucky ex-fiancée and the woman I met at the bar were one and the same, I was surprised — but glad. It gave me an excuse to see you again.”
“Why? So you could manipulate me because you knew I thought you were hot?”
Sam jerked his body upward. “You did?”
“It was fleeting.” Maisy stuffed the last book in the overcrowded bookshelf. She grabbed a pile of worksheets on a nearby table and reminded herself that, from the moment she met him, he had used her for his own gain. “So, the team has a real chance to win the pennant, I hear. Is that why you came today? You think you can seduce me again into coming back to the ballpark?”
“No. I am not here to seduce you and I didn’t mean any of that to happen the first time when I came in July. But Maisy, I’m a negotiator. I was trying to get you to the ballpark back then. I was trying very hard. It was part of my job.”
“Oh, do you get a medal for admitting it? Let’s get those photographers in here.” His honesty was only making things worse. She started moving around the room and placing the worksheets on each desk. “Get to the point, Sam. My kids will be back from art soon.”
“I’ve built my career making deals, Maisy. You already suspect why I was as happy to change the channel at Plato’s as you were. I’ve wanted to trade Kevin since I came to the club. The no-hitter blew that up. Then Zoom and the fans wanted you at the stadium again. I thought it was all superstitious nonsense.”
“It is superstitious nonsense!”
“I agree. Except for Faygo breaking my toe, I had it all planned. I reserved the apartment so you wouldn’t worry about expense. The school supplies were my idea. I tried to justify everything because I assumed if I got you to that Yankees game, it would be all be over when we lost. I even made a phone call to Luther—” He shook his head. “Let’s just say, I did what I needed to put the pressure on you.”
“Your sob story about being young and under pressure? That was a hoax, too, wasn’t it?”
Sam followed her down the aisle of desks. “Zoom loves to remind me of my youth all the time. He wasn’t going to fire me if I didn’t bring you back, though.
“By the time we got to Indy, I started feeling guilty. Before that game, I called the concierge and had them send up the bottle of tequila. I figured I owed you for putting you through that.”
She turned around and almost bumped noses with him. “And you got yourself a nice little perk with that tequila.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and lowered his brows. “No. I would never have planned that perk if I knew how much it might cost me. That night ruined everything.”
She swatted him in the chest with the remaining worksheets. “Ruined everything?”
His blue eyes captured hers. “From that night on, I stopped caring so much about wins and losses. It was you I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
Maisy put the stack of papers over her mouth to cover the smile that escaped. “You sure had an odd way of showing it the next night at the gala.”
“I’m not good with this man-woman stuff. I thought Kevin was what you wanted. I made my biggest mistake of all when I assumed you were still in love with him.”
She turned her back and laid down the last few worksheets. She wasn’t willing to give in. “How do you know I’m not over Kevin?”
“Because he’s a moron. And the Maisy I know now would never care about a moron. For all the years you two were together, he doesn’t have a clue who you are. I can’t believe I never saw it.”
She still couldn’t believe it herself. If only she could teach her students that young love was fleeting and sometimes just plain wrong. “How do you think I feel?”
Sam caught her shoulder and turned her around. His lips curled in that adorable boyish way that made her melt. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Maisy. My guess is that being with Kevin when you were young was kind of like loving a bad-boy band. Now you’ve grown up and realized you weren’t really listening to the music.”
Her heart fluttered. Oh, Lord, this man had the power to grab it out of her chest with a phrase like that.
He raised her chin tenderly with his thumb. She could feel his warm breath on her face. “Regardless of what happens with the two of us, I am never letting you get back together with that man. You are way too smart for him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She lowered her eyes. “There are an awful lot of people who think I should get back together with Kevin so the Turbos can win the pennant this year.”
“People are shallow. Besides, the Turbos are doing fine without you, so hopefully the fans will forget all about this insanity soon.”
She could hear her class coming back down the hall. They still hadn’t mastered the art of keeping their voices low.
She placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating as fast as hers. “How can I be so sure that this new honesty isn’t some ploy to get me back to the stadium, Mr. General Manager?”
“Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked. “How?”
He wiggled a single brow. “ ‘All the world is made of faith, and trust, and…’ ”
“ ‘Pixie dust,’ ” she finished. “Impressive.”
He grinned and pointed to a poster above the door of Robin Williams holding Peter Pan. “I borrowed it.”
The kids entered the classroom. They were mildly curious about the visitor but much more excited about the gossip that had been flying around the school. “Miss Gray, did you hear? Kevin Halderman is here. He’s signing autographs on the playground after school.”
She turned to Sam and rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. “At least he can spell his name.”
***
The three o’clock bell was followed by the opening and closing of desks and the stampede for the door. Word had spread throughout the school that Kevin Halderman was waiting on the playground to sign autographs and give baseball pointers. Even the kids who didn’t follow baseball were excited.
Maisy was in no rush to witness Kevin wrapping himself in his cloak of adoring fans, so she stayed at her desk and graded papers. Or at least she tried.
Her mind kept wandering back to her conversation with Sam. When he’d said he wasn’t proud of himself that night, it had sounded like an apology. Now she was turned inside out. Was she too exposed now? What if it was all a lie? What if he was taking advantage of her to get her back to the stadium again?
He hadn’t sounded like he cared about her returning to the ballpark. And he seemed serious about never letting her get together with Kevin again. Even if it meant the Turbos might lose without her. That seemed really odd. Crazy, actually. The Turbos were on their way to a pennant. If she were Sam, even she would be trying to convince her to come to the ballpark.
She pushed away the pile of math quizzes and moved to the window. The baseball diamond was at the back of the playground. A clump of boys and girls stood behind the batter’s cage. Several kids were beyond in the outfield. She couldn’t see Kevin or the rest of the field, but she could imagine how awkwardly Kevin was trying to relate to kids.
“There you are,” Heather said from the doorway.
She jumped back and sat down at her desk. “Just grading papers.”
Heather nodded toward the window. “You really should see what’s happening out there.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s quite a spectacle. But I’d rather pass.”
Heather walked over and stood beside her. Her eyes were harder than usual, her mouth turned down in an unusual expression of disappointment. “Hmmmmm.”
“What?”
“Even though you still haven’t told me anything, I know you are upset about that weekend you spent in Indianapolis,” Heather said. “But your kids are out on that baseball field having the time of their life. They’re playing a spontaneous game — no parents coaching, no rules about who can and can’t play, no fighting over the calls. It’s the kind of game you always want them to play. Why are you hiding up here?”
She was right, of course. It was so petty of Maisy to stay in her classroom like this. Even from here she could hear the cheers and whistles coming from the field.
“I guess I can finish this at home. I’ll take a quick look.”
Maisy stuffed the papers in her bag and followed a smug Heather out the door.
When she arrived at the field, she stopped and gazed at the scene before her.
Kids were laughing and calling encouragements to the batter, a second-grade girl. A man was standing next to her at home plate. Maisy blinked. Sam’s blue shirt and light gray pants were going to get dirty. His Cole Hahns were already covered in dust.
Where was Kevin? She didn’t see any sign of him.
Sam’s back was to her. She could hear him talking as he crouched down. “When you start out, just remember, the most important thing is to keep your eye on the ball.”
“What about the thtuff you told the older boyth?” she asked.
“That’s for when you get more comfortable with the eye part. Load. Stride. Swing. But you can wait a year or two if it feels too complicated.” He stepped back.
The little girl bit her lip and gave a hesitant demonstration, pausing at each movement to show that she knew what she was doing. She gave him a wavering smile that was missing two lower teeth. “What if I mith?”
“Most baseball players miss most of the time. But sometimes they send that ball flying over the fence.” Sam noticed Maisy and kept his gaze steady, his message clear. “Don’t worry about all the misses. Just focus on the ball.”
The second grader stared down at the Wiffle ball in his hand as if it were a hypnotic ball. If he laughed, Maisy didn’t hear it. He ruffled the top of her hair. “That’s right. Show these big guys in the outfield how it’s done.”
His no-nonsense tone was softer than he’d been with Jodie at the dinner table all those weeks ago. “I’m going to give you my best pitch. Don’t hurt me, slugger.”
“Come on, Tess. You can do it,” other kids cheered.
Sam jogged several yards away, tossed the plastic ball in the air, and caught it with the same hand. Dr. Harding had banned baseballs after a third grader had gotten his front teeth knocked out last year.
Anthony was on first base. He waved to her. “Hi, Miss Gray. Sam is giving us some tips.”
Sam lowered his brows. “No talking to the spectators, Anthony. I need you to focus on Tess here because she is about to hit the ball out of the park.”
Anthony grinned and adjusted his baseball cap. “Yes, sir.”
Sam made a big show of winding up. Then, he tossed the softest underhanded pitch Maisy had ever seen. It landed right on Tess’s outstretched bat. She swung. Sort of.
The ball rolled toward the pitcher’s mound. Sam didn’t pick it up. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and whistled as if he had all day. The third baseman scrambled over and grabbed it. Anthony missed the tag and Tess was safe.
Two kids in the outfield moaned. Sam turned around and waved. “I told you, I’m just the pitcher. It’s up to you to get the ball wherever it drops.”
As Maisy watched the game unfold, she felt a warm glow build inside her chest. He was a natural. He had a tip for each batter, whether it was a basic pointer like he’d given Tess or a more advanced pointer like he’d given Anthony.
It was nearly impossible to stay still. Maisy wanted to play so badly she curled her fingers inside a phantom mitt in her hand. When she could stand it no longer, she kicked off her heels and began to chase foul balls. Once, she couldn’t help herself, she tried to throw someone out at second.
Sam pointed his finger at her and warned her. “Don’t do it, Miss Gray. This is a kids’ only game. Even I can’t throw someone out.”
She complained, “Who made these rules?”
Anthony yelled, “We did. No grown-ups. Even you, Miss Gray. Just stand there and be lucky like you do best.”
She didn’t let that comment bother her. Instead she pretended to wave a magic wand on each batter. It was amazing to watch the kids cheering each other on. Even the slower, less nimble kids who rarely joined the games on the playground at lunch.
When everyone had had their turn and parents began picking up their children from the after-school club, Sam finally called the game.
“When can we do this again?” Anthony asked.
“With a real baseball?” a few of the boys added.
Sam handed the boys the Wiffle ball. “Wiffle ball might be safer until you’re in middle school. You don’t need me here or a grown-up to organize any game. Just remember to give everyone a chance no matter where they are on their baseball journey and nobody will intervene.” It was almost word for word what she always told her students at recess.
“Even the girls?” one young man asked, wrinkling his nose.
Sam looked over at Maisy. “Especially the girls. You could learn a lot from them. Maybe one day, they’ll be softball stars.”
He gave a high five to the kids as they left. Anthony gave Maisy a sweaty hug. He stopped in her classroom for lunch occasionally. She loved sharing her sandwich with him. Then he ran to keep up with the rest of his friends. “He’s nicer than Halderman was by far,” he said before going out of earshot.
Sam sent her a winning smile. “I swear I didn’t pay him to say that.”
It was a warm day, and moisture beaded on Sam’s forehead. He looked more handsome than she had ever seen him.
“You were a big hit. You should visit schools more often,” she said.
“I do. The Turbos hold special camps for kids in Indianapolis. I go when I can.”
“Kevin, too?”
He chuckled. “Not Kevin.”
Maisy was irritated. “Where did he go this afternoon?”
“He left after giving a dozen autographs and posing for the cameras. Something about his mother...”
Someone laughed nearby. Maisy had forgotten about Heather. She’d been talking to parents on the sideline during the game. Now, she stepped beside Maisy and held her hand out to Sam. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Heather Mason.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “The bar?”
“You got it, Ryan.”
“Ryan?”
She giggled. Maisy blinked. It had been a long time since she’d heard that kind of flirtatious sound coming from Heather. Heather caught Maisy’s raised eyebrow and gave her best Ryan Gosling impersonation. “Hey, girl, I’m not dead yet,” Heather said.
“That was pitiful,” Maisy said. Sam gazed from Heather to Maisy, not understanding the inside joke.
Heather bumped her shoulder. “I’m late picking up Jacy. Stop by Comeback again sometime, Ry— Sam.”
“Why did she call me that?” Sam asked after she left.
“She thinks you look like Ryan Gosling.”
“Ryan Gosling. Why?”
“Because you kind of do.”
Sam scratched his head and walked to the hill. He picked up his sports coat that he had shed. He looped it over his shoulder and started toward his car.
Maisy picked up her bag and purse and followed him to the parking lot. “You still love the game.”
“Of course.” He opened the back door of his familiar Cadillac. It was good to know he could handle it again. Sort of. It would be nice if he needed her to drive him around again.
“It really doesn’t bother you that you never got to play in the big leagues?” Maisy couldn’t help asking. He had been such a natural on the field.
He threw his sports coat across the backseat and slammed the door. He flashed her with those brilliant baby blues. “Sometimes. But I’m luckier than a zillion other guys who love the game. I get to work in Major League Baseball. It’s a dream to make it this far to the top of the organization. And they pay me good money to do it.”
“Yeah, they do. But you have to handle a bunch of superstars like—” She stopped herself when Sam held his finger to her lip.
“Let’s not talk about him.”
She grinned. “You guys in the front office get the blame when things go wrong. No one ever celebrates all the people behind the stars who make them successful.”
He took her bag from her and she led him to her car, where he tucked her things in the backseat for her. “Does it bother you that no one celebrates you when your students succeed?” he asked.
“Never.”
Maybe they were more alike than they knew. So much of what they did was about propping up others. Paving the way for their success. Standing behind the curtain as everyone else cheered.
Sam stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Maisy thought for sure he was going to kiss her. A little warning bell went off in the back of her head. This thing between them was starting all over again. She didn’t have a safety net underneath her heart yet.
He surprised her by stepping back. “Want to go for a walk? You can show me around Comeback.”
She paused.
“Unless you need to get home.”
She quirked her lip. “Dad and Mom are eating at Chad’s house tonight.”
He held out his hand.
“Don’t you have to get back to Indianapolis?”
He shook his head. “I came early to keep an eye on Kevin while he did his obligatory PR with the kids and posed for his promo pictures. Zoom wants me here in the morning, too. I’m spending the night.”
She tried to halt the victory lap her heart was running in her chest. But it was impossible not to be excited about spending time with Sam.
“Coming?” he asked.
She wanted to say no. She should. He shrugged and started walking in the wrong direction. She released a long, drawn-out breath. Then she ran after him and grabbed his hand.
“This way.”
***
Sam had never seen Maisy in her own environment. Watching her interact with the kids earlier had made him realize Maisy was made for this place. It was obvious her students loved her. She had a natural way with them and made their eyes light up with her presence.
She clutched his hand as they walked through Comeback. Her dress fluttered in the breeze. Good thing he was out of school. He’d never learn anything with her around. He had barely been able to control himself in her classroom this afternoon. She was sexy and cute at the same time, a mixture that was unique and fascinating. And now Sam wanted to know everything about her.
They traveled through a neighborhood of small bungalow houses with front porches and painted wood trim. Dogs barked. A lawnmower roared in the distance.
“Was it hard to return home and teach in Comeback?”
She paused. “Yes and no. It was really weird at first. Do you know, when I started, one of my old teachers was still in the building teaching first grade?”
“That must have been a bit awkward.”
“It was. Especially since she used to send me to the principal’s office all the time.”
“I can’t imagine you getting sent to the principal’s office.”
She laughed. “You’re joking, right? I thought she was going to duct tape me to the chair by the end of the year. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a little trouble sitting still for long. And then there’s my temper.”
“Temper? I hadn’t noticed,” he teased.
She made a face. “I assure you I am not violent. I haven’t hit someone since Brad Forrester pulled my bra strap in sixth grade.”
“Good for you.” He’d never met a woman who was so open with her emotions. It was refreshing and one hell of a turn-on.
A bicycle bell rang behind them and Maisy pulled Sam off the sidewalk as a little girl passed on a purple bike. “Hi, Miss Gray.”
Maisy returned the greeting. A skateboarder turned the corner, almost running into them. “Hey, Miss Gray.”
Sam looked warily down the sidewalk. “Should we be walking here? My toe was just starting to feel better.”
“Come on, it’s safe,” Maisy said, pulling him along at a faster pace. Then she stopped. “Sorry. I move too fast sometimes. My brother says I’m hyperactive.”
“You just need a little redirection and you calm down fine,” he said, guiding her to a normal stride. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and the sunlight through the trees sprinkled crimson flames in her dark tresses. He ached to run his hands through the glossy strands but was afraid he’d get burned if he tried. This kind of need was uncharted territory for him.
“I wanted to play ball with the kids so badly this afternoon I could barely hold back,” she admitted.
He wasn’t surprised. Even when she had been dragged to the stadium to watch Kevin play, he had seen the longing in her eyes as she gazed out at the field and the way her toe tapped when the innings were tense.
They turned down Main Street and passed a cluster of shops. Store awnings in pink and yellow draped over the windows. Planters in purple and red lined the doors. Color was back in his life when he was with Maisy.
“You still love baseball, don’t you?” he asked, running his thumb along the inside of her wrist.
“It’s in my blood. When I was little, I wanted to play little league in the worst way. But girls weren’t allowed to play in our town. So, I committed myself to—” She stopped. “Damn. I hate it when I mention him.”
He pressed his lips together, feeling like a jealous boy. He wanted to erase the asshole from Maisy’s life. But that would be like cutting out part of her. She’d been shaped by her years with Kevin. And their breakup. Nothing could change that. So, he let it go.
Maisy gazed thoughtfully at Sam. “You know, I’ve realized lately that my love for Kevin was complicated. I loved the player he was. But Kevin, the man, was something I created in my head. Kind of a mirage.”
He understood. Maisy loved baseball so much she’d nurtured one the of the best pitchers in the game and made his future more important than herself. If it weren’t for the business of baseball, Sam might have put his own life first, too. He might have a wife and kids. Lately he’d been wondering if it had to be this way. Fuzzy had kids. Many players on the team, even the young ones, had a family. Was it really that difficult?
He couldn’t keep the crooked grin from forming. “ ‘It is never too late to be wise.’ ”
Her eyes grew huge. “Robinson Crusoe!”
He nodded. “I loved that book.”
“Mr. Hunter! Are you sucking up to me with quotes from children’s books now?”
He had to be as honest as she was. “Maybe.”
Suddenly, Maisy stopped. She yanked Sam down and planted a firm kiss on his lips. His surprise was quickly replaced with hope. He caught her face with his hands and captured her lips for a deeper kiss. Could he possibly be lucky enough to earn a second chance?
It took them both a moment to realize that an older woman was standing in front of them. That person cleared her throat.
Maisy jumped away like a guilty teenager. “Mrs. Cannib— I mean Hannibal.”
Sam stifled a cough.
“Uh, Sam, this is Mrs. Hannibal. My sixth-grade English teacher.”
Sam held out his hand. The woman nodded and lowered her lids, inspecting him. She turned back to Maisy. “I hope this one can read better than your last boyfriend.”
When she moved on, Sam couldn’t help himself. “My God, teachers everywhere.”
Maisy walked backwards, craning her neck to make sure that Mrs. Hannibal was gone. “She used to hate Kevin. She hated baseball, too. She suspected that I did all his homework for him and once even kept me after school to lecture me about it. It was the first time I heard the word enable.”
That sobered Sam. He should run after the lady and thank her on behalf of little girls and baseball managers everywhere. His best players were more than athletically gifted, they were smart. Kevin was either the exception to that rule or he might have a brain that had never been used properly.
Maisy sighed and reached for his hand. “I feel kind of guilty now. Do you think Kevin is kind of, well…?”
“Dumb?”
She nodded. “Or uneducated?”
It was rotten that she blamed herself for Kevin’s faults. “Maisy, I sign off on Kevin’s paycheck. I don’t think you need to feel guilty about him in any way. As long as he doesn’t blow it, he’ll be able to retire from baseball and live comfortably for the rest of his life.”
Maisy was tapping her toe against the pavement. He rubbed his thumb along her wrist again and she stopped. Sometimes when he was around her, Sam felt like a lion tamer. Her energy was like a wild animal waiting to break free. Tristan said gum relieved anxiety. He’d give her a piece of his, but it might remind her of that lucky routine she did before sitting down at baseball games.
She looked down. “Wait, why am I holding your hand?”
He grasped her fingers more firmly. “Because I don’t know where I’m going.” He made a long face to exaggerate his helplessness.
She bit her lip but didn’t let go of his hand. If he could do this every day, he’d never need a Fitbit or a piece of gum again. Speaking of which, he checked his Fitbit. It showed one hundred percent. Imagine that. A pickup game with elementary school students and walking with Maisy had done what nothing else had done all summer.
“Do you think you’ll stay in Comeback?” he finally asked. He almost added the word forever.
She looked up at the branches of a gnarly tree that hung over the road. “I don’t know. Dad is going to retire in a year or two. He and Mom tell me they’re going to kick me out soon. But I want to help if Mom needs me.”
Of course. Helping was what Maisy did.
“I want to keep teaching at Joy. But I miss the city.” She laughed at herself. “Honestly, running into my old teacher and my students happens all the time in Comeback. It’s a little weird. You should see how it is when I go grocery shopping.”
They strolled through an older part of Comeback with yellow and white Victorian homes and latticework on the porches. Maisy showed Sam the old town hall that was a dance studio, the Italian restaurant that was run by German immigrants, and the stone church that was now a beer hall.
She told him about her first job at the veterinary clinic. How nice the doctors were when she’d cried after an ancient dog had to be put down. And how she’d quit the next day. She described how her brother, Chad, had taken her father’s car out the day he got his license and how he’d rear-ended a police officer at a stoplight in front of the station.
Sam was still laughing when they ran into Bobby Gray coming out of the Italian restaurant across the street. He held up two pizzas.
“I didn’t know you were in town, Sam. Maisy, why didn’t you tell us?” He nodded to a minivan parked along the street ahead of them. A group of Grays waved. Chad, a pretty blonde who must be his wife, Jodie, an older girl who looked like Jodie, and Maisy’s mom, who had an odd expression on her face when she looked down at their joined hands.
Maisy groaned. “See what I mean? It’s a really small town. I can’t go anywhere without running into someone I know.”
***
Evidently, Mom and Dad’s dinner at Chad’s had been a wash. Chad’s wife, Betsy, not known for her cooking, had burned the roast chicken to a crisp. When she’d finished crying and then laughing, they’d ordered pizza to take back to Andrea and Bobby’s. Chad explained, with a teasing pat on his wife’s shoulder, that their house had to air out for a bit.
When Sam was invited to join them, Maisy had to hide her pleasure at the prospect of spending more time together. As if he had been doing it for years, Sam helped her mother out of the car and handed her her elbow crutches. He greeted her nephew with a simple fist bump, like he had done with the kids on the field today. He shook her ten-year-old niece’s hand and sent her a smile that was crush-worthy. He showed her father how well his foot had healed. And best of all, he seemed to be enjoying the chaos of Maisy’s family.
Halfway through the meal, her mother leaned in and told Maisy, “We didn’t mean to intrude on your night, honey.”
Maisy shook her head. “No. It’s all right.” And she meant it now. Seeing Sam with her family was putting him in a new light. Gone was the aggressive, smooth-talking man who had tried to convince her to come to Indianapolis. In his place was a genuine and engaging man who was enjoying the lively discussion at the dinner table as if he’d been sitting with the family for years. With every moment, she was falling deeper into something she wasn’t ready to define yet.
She wasn’t sure whether she’d lost the last threads of her anger when Sam knelt down to explain to the second-grade girl how to hit a ball or when he calmed her jittery reflexes on the walk with a single touch. How the heck did he manage to do what dozens of her teachers, and even her parents, had never been able to do?
It was impossible to equate a man who seemed to genuinely enjoy being with kids and her crazy, loud family to a cold and calculating schemer.
God, she was easy.