Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise (18 page)

"What about it?" Ginger said. "She'll do a fine job. Be good practice for her and besides we'll keep an eye out."

"That's right," I said. "We need someone to watch the kids and keep them from running out on the field when we practice. Wouldn't want them to get hurt."

"I don't know," Clara said. "Makes me nervous, and if my Carl found out he'd throw a conniption fit."

"Let's just relax and give it try. The children will be in view the whole time."

"Yeah," Edwina said. "We'll keep an eye out. The kids will be okay."

That was when I saw Asa's truck pull onto the Frost sisters' property. "Does it look like Fleur de Lee is with him?"

The doors opened and I saw Asa and then Marlabeth help Fleur de Lee out of the backseat.

"Looks like she's agreed to watch them."

Edwina ran toward Fleur de Lee and grabbed her hand. She pulled her toward the team. "Come on, Fleur de Lee, you come play with the little kids."

Fleur de Lee was all smiles and a big round belly. "We can go play over here," she said, taking one little girl's hand. "Let's go play."

"You be careful, Linda Sue," Clara called.

Not a single child turned to look back. Fleur de Lee was the Pied Piper leading the children around.

"Okay." I clapped my hands and brought the team to attention."Let's get started."

But before I could give out any instructions I saw women running every which way grabbing bats and balls and gloves and shouting to each other like they had just been let loose from a zoo.

"Come on," called Greta. "Throw me a pitch." She stood on home plate swinging a bat.

I let them go for a short time until I corralled them all together again. "That was a lot of fun. But we need to get organized. I want to see how you all can swing a bat."

"I'll pitch," Asa said.

I set a bucket of balls on the pitcher's circle. "Take it easy with them. You don't want—" I stopped talking when Asa raised his hand and said, "I might have known."

"What?"

"Fergus," Asa said.

Fergus Wrinkel was making his way out of the woods."Asa," he called in a louder-than-necessary voice. "Asa. I've been looking for you. I need you to carry them propane tanks down to the dump."

"Now?" I called. "We were just about to start our practice."

"Now," Fergus said. He was clear to the pitcher's circle and looking at Asa like a jackal staring down a rabbit. "This is a woman's team. What you want with a one-armed man anyway? Not like he can play."

Asa handed me the ball. "I'm sorry, Charlotte."

Fergus opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, when out of the blue came a line drive hit that buzzed Fergus's head. I looked toward home plate. My whole team stood there holding bats. I needed to know which one of my players could hit a ball like that.

Asa choked back a laugh. The team was not quite so gracious and laughed like a pack of hyenas over at home plate.

"Come on, Asa," Fergus said. He sounded a tad humiliated."Do you want to keep your job, or do you want to stay here and play sissy softball?"

Asa went off with Fergus, but I knew that Fergus had no real say in whether Asa kept his job or not. That was Hazel's call. I only wished Asa knew it also.

I
had already decided that official practice sessions would last for an hour and a half, with one half hour dedicated to a different fundamental. The women gathered around me in a circle. Each one of their faces held a slightly different expression. I saw excitement, trepidation, questioning. Greta kept one eye peeled in Charlie Junior's direction, and Marlabeth seemed to be on an entirely different planet than the rest of us. Their hair was unkempt, and they wore clothes that looked about nine sizes too large, except Greta, who was squeezed into a pair of cutoff jeans. Clara Kaninsky looked for all the world like Lana Turner, and Thomasina insisted on wearing overalls and I wondered if I would ever get her into a uniform.

"It's always good to start a practice with some drills, so I'd like you all to run the bases two or three times," I said. "Stretch your muscles a bit."

"What?" Greta said. "You want us to run clear around them bases two or three times? I can't run that much. I'm nursing baby Ruth and I guarantee I will be leaking like a sieve by the time I make it to second base. Can't have these breasts flopping up and down all around the bases." She hoisted her burgeoning breasts in the air. I made a mental note to check with someone about what to do with the breasts of a nursing mother who wanted to play softball.

"Okay, you sit out, Greta, but the rest of you get going." I tried a more assertive voice. I heard some grumbling, in particular from Gwendolyn, who said, "When we gonna get to hit the ball? I want to hit the ball. Been wanting to hit something for about ten years now." Then she snuffed back tears.

I watched them run. Clara and Francine knew what they were doing. Marlabeth started off in the wrong direction, but Clara grabbed her hand. "This way, Marlabeth. You run the bases this way. First, second, third, home."

Ginger had already been around the bases four times before the rest of the team made their second lap. She stood next to me, huffing and puffing, with a little bit of glistening sweat on her face. "That was invigorating, Charlotte. Got my heart pumping."

The team straggled onto home plate, most of them falling to their knees and gasping for oxygen. Clara, Frankie, and Greta were the only ones standing. I had my work cut out for me, and with only three weeks before our first game, my own trepidation swelled. We would have to step up practice to at least twice a week.

"I want you ladies to run whenever you can. Run through Paradise. Jogging is popular right now, everybody's doing it."

They laughed at me.

I ignored them. "Okay, let's try some batting practice."

"Edwina and Thomasina, you two head out into the outfield. Everyone else stay near the dugout."

Gwendolyn laughed. "Dugout. It ain't no dugout. It's a bench."

"It's still called a dugout," I said. "Now do what I said."

Greta ran over to Fleur de Lee to check on the baby. I heard Fleur de Lee say, "She's doing just fine, Miz Lundy. Only made a few little cooing noises."

Edwina and Thomasina stood stock-still for a second or two and then played rock, paper, scissors, with Thomasina getting right field. Wasn't sure if that made her the winner or the loser.

"Do I get to hit the ball now?" Gwendolyn said. "I want to hit a home run. I'm gonna hit that dang blame ball clear out of the park and halfway to Philadelphia." I wondered whose head she wanted to hit with that bat.

I gave out some pointers on having a proper stance and how to swing at the ball. "Now, believe it or not, it is not that hard to hit a moving object. Just time your swing correctly and BAM! It's outta here!" I got a little excited.

Clara had a nice stance and could hit with no trouble. Same for Greta and Ginger. I finally let Gwendolyn up to bat, and she looked like she was ready to rip the casing off the ball. I pitched a nice, five-foot arc and watched the ball come down right in her strike zone. She swung hard! Missed.

"Gol-dern it. Stinking, rotten ball. I'll hit ya this time."

I pitched. She swung, and another miss. This time she banged the bat on the ground. "Dagnabbit."

Clara moved close to her and helped her with her grip."Stay low on the bat, Gwendolyn. You're gripping too high. Wait until you feel it, then swing."

"Feel what, Clara? The ball hitting my head?"

"No. When you feel it's right. Keep your eye on the ball. You'll see it."

That was when I knew I had a champion on my team. Clara knew about softball.

Gwendolyn nodded and adjusted her batting helmet. Then she ripped it off her head. "I think I'll see the ball better without that dang fool thing blocking my view." She kicked it toward the on-deck circle where Marlabeth was taking practice swings, though she looked more like a whirling dervish.

I pitched. She swung. And bam! The ball went soaring over my head like a cannon shot.

"Run," hollered the team. "Run to first base, Gwendolyn."

She took off down the first base line and I don't remember ever seeing more determination in a base runner before. She tagged first base and took off toward second. Meanwhile Edwina and Thomasina, who were in the outfield, were still running after the ball. Gwendolyn rounded second as Edwina kicked the ball further into the field.

"You moron," Thomasina hollered. "Go get the ball."

Edwina took off toward the cornfield after the rolling ball.

"Run. Run." The team was jumping up and down by now."Run, Gwendolyn."

Edwina grabbed the ball. Frankie pulled on her glove and ran to home base, hoping to pick Gwendolyn off. Edwina threw with all her might, but the ball barely made it to second base.

Gwendolyn had scored the first Angels home run, much to the joy of the entire team. And I do believe that it was at that very moment that this motley group of Paradise trailerites became a team.

Yet as I watched them celebrate at home plate, I couldn't help but notice the hole in the team that was Rose. I threw my glove on the ground.

"You all play ball. I'll be back in a little while."

"Where you going?" Ginger called.

"We need a catcher." I marched off toward the woods.

If there was one thing I had learned since Herman dropped dead in my kitchen, it was that I had been putting up with too much guff. A person had to stand up for herself if she was ever going to win at softball, let alone life. I walked hard, making each step count as I thought about things. Rose had a right to her secrets, but she also had a responsibility to the team. After all, she prayed for me, prayed that I would find my way to Paradise. Starting the team was her idea in the first place, and for her to all of a sudden give up on the team was wrong. I was going to tell her she had no right. No right at all, scars, tattoos, and all.

I found Rose sitting in the giant hand like Humpty Dumpty waiting to fall.

"What in the heck are you doing up there, Rose?"

"Thinking."

"About what?" I put my hands on my hips and tapped my sneaker on the ground. "What gives you the right to sit up there in God's hand and think your life away? Is that what he's telling you to do?"

"Well, he ain't telling me to play softball, either, Charlotte."

"Is too. He is too telling you to play softball."

"Is not."

"Is too."

I had to jump up and down to see her. "Rose Tattoo, you are the most infuriating woman on God's green earth, well, next to my mother." I climbed into the palm. "You come down and join the team. Nobody cares two licks about your scars or your tattoos, and you don't have to tell a soul about them if you don't want. You understand? We'll find some way to hide them."

"But you told me to tell. You said I should because Jesus did."

"I know what I said, and what I said was wrong. Your scars and your tattoos are your business. But you can't just walk away from the team. It's a team, Rose. A real team. Hiding tattoos is one thing. Letting down the team is another."

And I meant what I said.

She looked toward the field. "It is a pretty field. So green and—"

"We need a catcher something fierce over there. I'm fairly certain the Angels are running amok without me over there. They're probably tearing up the field, chasing balls, and only heaven knows what Gwendolyn is doing, probably hitting anything she can. That woman has a violent streak. I got a . . . a mentally slow girl babysitting, a nursing mother with breasts leaking all over the place, and a midget who thinks she's Mickey Mantle. Now get down and come play. I can't leave them alone too long. Only God knows what can happen. For heaven's sake, Rose, Edwina shot the lock off the equipment shed. Now I got to get back to them."

I took a huge breath and blew it out my mouth. I had never spoken so forcefully in all my days. Never. "Please, Rose. I need you."

She didn't move.

That was when I saw crystal clear what she was doing."Rose Tattoo. You are a fraud. You've been sitting up here in the hand of God watching us practice. You want to play same as everyone else."

"I've only been here for a minute. I just got up here. I was only curious and—"

"And you want to play. Come on. I need you to help me contain the women. It's like they've been let loose from prison over there."

It was close to noon by the time Rose and I made it back to Angel Field. Already the women were complaining about needing to get their kids home for lunch, but mostly they were glad to see Rose.

"Now, look," I said. "We still could use another half hour of practice." I looked into the distance and saw dark, bottomheavy clouds rolling toward us. "And before the rain starts."

Fleur de Lee had the children engaged in a game of ringaround-the-rosy and seemed to be doing a fine job, so I didn't worry about the children.

"Now who wants to hit?"

I should have just handed Gwendolyn the bat. "I do," she practically sang. "I love to hit that ball. Looks so pretty soaring out there over everyone's head and landing on that green, green grass."

So after a few more rounds of batting practice, I gathered the women together. Rose spoke before me. "I think it's only fitting we thank the one who made all this possible and—"

"But Asa run off to do chores with Fergus," Frankie Felker said.

"I was going to say," Rose continued, "and ask his almighty blessing on this field and—" she looked into my eyes with that sneaky smile of hers, "our team."

Frankie looked embarrassed and moved to the back of the group.

Rose raised her hands and prayed. She mentioned each woman by name and also Asa and even our mysterious sponsor. Then she said something that surprised me.

"And gracious Lord," she raised her hands higher, "If it be your will, let the Angels amount to something more, much more than softball. Something that will last and help us help Suzy Wrinkel."

As we all stood on the brand-new field, a sense of peace and calm enveloped me, like a soft, warm bathrobe.

"This is nice," Greta said. "I don't go in much for all that God talk and praying. Never works for me, but it sure does for Rose. She's got a pipeline to Heaven, don't she now."

"She sure does," Carla said. "Maybe we should make Rose our team captain."

Rose's eyes bugged out. "Captain? Sorry. Chaplain maybe, but captain? Not me."

Carla had brought up an excellent point. I never did name a team captain or give The Angels a chance to vote on it.

"Carla's right," I said. "We should have a team captain."

"Why?" Ginger asked. "How's that different from what you do, Charlotte?"

"The team captain takes care of other things and helps me keep you all happy and maybe even gives pep talks when I'm not around or when you need to talk without your coach, you know."

"Then it should be Rose," Frankie said.

But Rose kept shaking her head. "I can't. And I won't. So just count me out."

"Okay, okay." I raised my arms to quiet them and looked around at the team. Any one of them could have done it, except maybe Gwendolyn, who was so prone to crying fits I figured she'd just get everyone in a tizzy too often.

"Raise your hand," I said, "if you think you want to be captain."

Ginger, Frankie, and Clara raised their hands. I grabbed my pad and gave each member of the team a slip of paper. "Let's vote."

Two minutes later, Frankie Felker was voted in as Angels Team Captain. She stepped into the center of the circle and waved her cap. "Thank you, thank you. I will do my best to lead this team to VICTORY!"

Already she had gotten the team riled and whooping it up. And once they quieted down, the women spread out, grabbed their children, and set off through the woods chattering and laughing. It had been a good practice after all.