Binding Arbitration (31 page)

“He was picked up for solicitation.”

“Solicitation of a prostitute?”

“Technically, an undercover police officer. He pulls this kind of crap just to get under my parents’ skin.”

“What did your dad do?”

“We bailed him out, but he has to come back for court in a couple of weeks.”

“I can call in some favors.”

“Thank you, but I think he needs to learn his lesson, and the only way he’s going to do that is if he takes his punishment.” He squeezed my hip where his hand had settled.

I watched his muscles flex, as he removed his clothes. I questioned my own resolve, but I flipped back the down comforter for him anyway.

Even in the dark I could count each ripple in his abdomen, when I should have been counting sheep. I tried to relax into my pillows, but he reached out for me in desperation.

“We were supposed to tell Cass,” he said. “We’ll never make it out of the hospital without him finding out, and I would rather he hear it from us.”

We’d planned to tell him Aidan was his father after dinner. “I spoke to Winslow O’Leary,” I said. “And he hinted he knows. He asked if I’d give him an interview, and I told him I wouldn’t, but you would.”

“That’s fine.” He pulled me closer still. “I’ve arranged the press conference, and I’ll make sure Fletch gets O’Leary a front row seat. I had about twenty-five requests for interviews on e-mail, and Fletch said they were coming out of his ears.”

“It was naïve to think this could happen quietly.”

“I like it, when you’re naive,” he said as he brushed the hair away from my face. “Dr. Seuss said all the doctors agreed to participate and talk about bone marrow donation.”

He kissed my lips. “It’s nice to crawl in bed with you.”

I cuddled on his shoulder, when he lay on his back.

His hand sifted through my hair and found a chunk to run his fingers through. “I’m going to have to answer a lot of hard questions.”

“You don’t have to answer questions that are too personal.”

“I screwed up. I wasn’t accountable for my own actions.” He drew in and expelled a breath. “I’m not going to sit in front of reporters like Mark McGuire did when they asked the hard questions about steroids, and take the fifth. People are a lot more willing to forgive you, if you admit you were wrong.”

“This isn’t a congressional hearing, and you’re not under oath. You can set the parameters of your own press conference.”

He grazed my scalp at the nape of my neck with his fingertips. “I’m going to sit up there and take it like a man.”

“Tell them you thought I gave the baby up for adoption; that’s the truth. Athletes have done worse, half the NBA’s in trouble with drugs, guns, gang-banging, and rape.”

“I was the poster child for clean living.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t think how much this might cost you.”

“Babe, all I think about is what I’ve gained.”

“You know Cass adores you.” I kissed his bicep. “He’s like you. The older he gets, the more I’ve seen it. Sometimes he can soften butter with his smile.”

He pulled me closer, as if our skin might meld together. “Except his eyes are the colors of yours, and just as devious.”

“Speaking of devious, I’m not taking the child support money. You don’t owe me anything, and when this is over, if you want to adopt Cass, he can decide. It’s between the two of you.”

“You say ‘when this is over’ as if once Cass is well, I’m going to disappear. I plan on being in this for the long haul.”

I tensed. “Or until spring training.”

“I signed a contract I need to fulfill.”

“You always did have something to fulfill.” I pulled away.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He held me still and let out a sigh. “And once you found out you were pregnant you didn’t care to be in the same room as me. How’s that for rejection?”

I never once thought he would view my desperate struggle to succeed as a rejection. “I was trying to figure out how to put baby and law school into the same sphere. You were gung-ho for eliminating the problem.”

“That’s what hurt you the most, isn’t it? You think I chose baseball over you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I sputtered.

“Just because I came from a privileged background doesn’t mean that I didn’t learn the same lesson you learned: don’t ever love anything you can’t give up because if you do the world will surely snatch it away. Losing Andy taught me that.

“I was overwhelmed, and the only thing I had to fall back on was my ambition.” The shutters filtered moonlight over his face, making his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know how we’d make it work with a kid, when I was making you miserable. But baseball had always been there for me. It welcomed me, groomed me, and committed to me, as I had to it. I was a scared kid, and I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I’d been doing all along. I played my heart out.”

“I was scared, too, I was sicker than a dog, and I had always been so careful not to make a mistake. Then I found myself in the worst trouble of my life. I thought having an abortion might be the only way out, but I couldn’t do it.”

“You were going to have an abortion?”

“I went there, but the minute I saw the building, I started throwing up. I couldn’t even get out of the car. I heard the echoes of the doctor’s words when he confirmed my pregnancy, and I just couldn’t.

“What did he say?”

“‘However you choose to deal with this will seal your relationship with its father.’ And for me it was like the baby was the only thing that was mine, and I couldn’t let it go, even for you.” Tears ran down my cheeks, and he brushed them away. “I couldn’t let that be the last thing between us.”

He gathered me into the protection of his embrace. “I’m so happy you didn’t. I love Cass.”

I tried to wipe my slobbering on my hand, but Aidan tidied my face with his pillow case before he spooned around me.

* * *

The next morning dawned late, and we overslept, having to then rush out of the house. We barely made it to the hospital in time.

“You know, not every guy could pull off the Sponge Bob gown and still look manly,” I said to pull Aidan’s eyes away from the clock he’d been watching since we arrived.

He pulled me across his lap. “That manly enough for you?”

He kept me in place with his fingertips on my bare skin just above the waistband of my jeans, as he rubbed his whiskered jaw along the side of my face. His expression shifted, became very serious. “After the procedure, you bring Cass to me first thing. If anything happens to me, you tell him the truth.”

The doctor entered and cleared his throat.

I moved out of Aidan’s lap.

“The process takes about an hour,” the doctor said. When you wake up you might have pain, nausea, vomiting, and sore throat, but we’ll give you something for pain management. You might require an autologous transfusion of packed red blood cells from the units of blood we collected last week.

“I’ll be using a large-bore needle to aspirate the marrow from the posterior iliac crest, placing it in syringes. The typical collection involves removing about 1.5 liters through two skin incisions. The exact volume has been calculated based on your weight and nucleated cell count. The harvested marrow will then be processed to remove the blood, fat, and bone fragments. It will be put in cryopreservation and frozen to keep the cells alive until Cass’ transplantation team is ready.

“The risks involved with this procedure are associated with anesthesia, infection, mechanical injury, and transfusion. We’ve already discussed your arm.”

I held up my hands calling for a time out. “What?”

The doctor looked at Aidan with a raised brow and Aidan met my glare. “This might slow down the healing of my arm.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Palowski, you might never pitch another inning. I can’t believe you didn’t tell her.”

Aidan grumbled, “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

I bit into my lip to keep from tearing him apart.

The doctor eyed me and then the door. If I were him, I’d want to escape the tension filled room, too. But he continued: “Once released you’ll need about two weeks to recover. No workouts.” He raised his eyebrow, evaluating me. I didn’t get what he meant until Aidan chuckled.

I didn’t respond to the smirk, instead giving Aidan the evil eye. “The most important thing is a quiet place to recuperate.”

“Yes, we’re going away for a few days.”

The doctor stood, looking between us. “Good. I’ll send in the nurse and I’ll be out to talk to you, Ms. Tucker, when the procedure is done. I’ve also made time for the press conference. I believe Dr. Seuss will be joining us, as well as members of the transplantation team.”

The door hadn’t even closed in his wake, when I turned on him. “You did not tell me how much this might cost you.”

“I’d give up more than baseball to save him.”

Aidan looked so hard at me that I wanted to back away.

“Or to have you.”

Before I could protest, a heavyset, older woman came in with a scowl on her face. “I’m your nurse. My name is Mrs. Kratchette.” She was the polar opposite of the bodacious blond nurse in the tight dress; she was short, stout and stubbed nosed. “I’ll be taking you to the O.R.”

I stared until they disappeared down the long corridor, before I headed back to the empty waiting room with my stomach in knots. Every time I thought I had a handle on things, another bomb went off. Aidan might never pitch again. How was I going to live with that on my conscience? I took in the stale, beige walls and scratchy, burgundy chairs and decided I couldn’t sit. I paced along a worn trail in the navy carpeting. The television was blaring one of the morning news shows, when I heard a grunt and turned to see a younger, blonder version of Aidan.

A cocky grin plastered his face. “Whoa, this waiting room just added another pleasurable dimension.” He looked me up and down, spending a lot of time on the V of my blouse.

I crossed my arms and gave him my best haughty lawyer look.

“Better yet, she’s got a temper. You get that fired up where I want you, and we might combust.” He ruffled through his hair and gave me another Palowski grin, dimple and all.

“Does that line ever work for you?” I sneered.

His legs sprawled outstretched in front of him. He wasn’t quite as tall as his brother, but even at twenty, he had the same ability to command a room. “I’ll let you know later.” He winked, taking in my body from his new vantage point.

I gripped my arms so I wouldn’t flip him off and continued pacing.

“You got a name, babe?”

I glared at his use of the endearment that I had allowed only one man to use. “Of course I have a name. It’s Bimbo.”

“What more could a guy ask for?”

“I don’t know.”
Perhaps
a brain that wasn’t located in the lower extremities?
“You might prefer a gnarly wave, dude?”

“You know what? I like ‘em feisty. Is your husband in here?”

“A friend,” I ground out.

He smiled through sparkling teeth that reflected his devil-may-care attitude. “My brother’s getting his bone marrow sucked out to give to his little bastard that he’s ignored for the past six years. The virtuous white knight riding in to save the day, and all that crap.”

I swallowed down my angst. “It’s miraculous that you come from the same gene pool.”

That’s when the first flicker of realization crossed his face. “What did you say your name is?”

“I’m Libby Tucker, the little bastard’s mother.”

“I can see it wasn’t a hardship on him to knock you up.”

I took up one of the scratchy chairs. “I can see why he speaks so little of you. My six-year-old has better manners.”

“Yeah, but I bet he’s not nearly as cute as me.”

“Once you open your mouth, the California-surfer-stud looks don’t mean a thing.” I picked up a magazine.

“So you were enough to bring him down.”

I put my glasses back on so I could see his face. “Pardon?”

“His Lordship was perfect until this little incident. You must have been some great fu—”

I whipped the magazine at him and the hard edge hit him in the lip. He made to get out of his chair, but before he could move, Mr. Palowski’s leathery denouncement cracked the air as if on the end of a whip. “Avery!

“Let’s go for a walk.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Libby, we’ll be back in a few minutes, and my son will have an apology and a new attitude.”

I nodded, and Mrs. Palowski took the seat alongside me, offering me a coffee. “Where’s Cass?” I asked.

“Lori’s a candy striper here, and she giving him a tour.”

“He could be conducting the tours.”

“Yes, but Lori doesn’t know that.” She winked at me. “He’s going to be quite the charmer, that one.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” We laughed.

She became serious. “You’ll have to forgive them.”

“Avery, you mean?”

“Yes, him, too, he’s cast Aidan as the hero and himself in the role of the villainous son.” She hesitated. “But I was talking about forgiving Aidan for not being there for you.”

“I’m not sure…”

“You don’t have to be sure. All you need is hope. Most of what he did was because of us, not because of you. He cares for you. His face lights up when he looks at you. And Cass makes him happy in ways nothing else ever has.”

“Regardless of why...”

“He wronged you and Cass, but he’s always thought he had to be perfect and the best at everything.” She looked around the room, ensuring we were alone. “I want to tell you what I know about forgiveness. This will give you insights about Avery, too. We had an older son, Andy; he died in a horrific accident.”

“Aidan told me.”

“Yes, well, let me tell you the parts of the story that Aidan can only guess at.

“Michael and I separated after Andy died, two years later Michael told me his mistress was going to have a child.” She took a drink of her coffee as if fortifying herself. “I thought he was asking me for a divorce. But he wanted to bring the child home for us to raise together. His mistress was a career woman, with no intentions of being a mother. You can imagine how incensed I was.”

I swallowed down my own reaction. “What did you do?”