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Authors: Pamela Aares

Tags: #Romance, #baseball, #Contemporary, #sports

Fielder's Choice (24 page)

BOOK: Fielder's Choice
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“Thanks, Dr. Brandon. Does that philosophy work for seals too?”

“Still working on their linguistic skills. As soon as I can tell them, I’ll let you know.”

“The thing with Matt is over. I screwed it up, maybe on purpose. You were there. You saw what happened. It can’t go anywhere—I just can’t do the stepmother thing. It wouldn’t be fair to anybody.’

“Does he have a say?”

“Look, I like him too much to just sleep with him.
Way
too much. And I’m pretty sure he’s not wired for casual. The bigger problem is, after being with him, I might not be wired for casual anymore either.”

“And just maybe you’re not as ill-suited to be in a relationship as you think.”

“You don’t know my history,” Alana said with a shrug. “Someday when we have a gallon of merlot and some straws, I’ll fill you in.”

“You have a good heart, Alana. The rest comes. Life surprises us all.”

How good her heart was, she didn’t know, but it sure felt raw. And letting Matt Darrington slip inside it was one of the worst moves of her life.

“I’m over surprises, Jackie. I’m starting to consider getting a master’s degree in boring.”

Jackie laughed. “Uh-huh. Right after the Mad Hatter invites us all to tea.”

“I’m serious.”

“Don’t tease fate,” Jackie said, suddenly somber. “It always wins.”

 

 

Matt didn’t want to admit that having Alana in the stands was distracting, but he spent nearly as much time glancing over at her as he did paying attention to the game. A grounder nearly got by him in the second inning.

He scuttled into the dugout and grabbed his batting helmet. The Giants needed a run to shoot ahead of the Cubs. Alex was batting ahead of him; with a little luck between them, they ought to be able to put something on the board. Alex knew the Cubs’ pitcher and had reminded Matt that the guy had heat but usually let a fat one slip in over the plate by the third pitch. He’d have to be patient.

Matt’s phone buzzed as he grabbed for his helmet and headed to the on-deck circle.

It was Sophie’s ringtone.

She’d never call during a game unless it was dire—he had to answer. Let Walsh chew him out for having his phone on him and taking a call;
he
didn’t have a motherless six-year-old.

Matt cupped his hands over his ears and felt the blood go out of him when the camp director told him that Sophie had been missing for several hours. When he asked why Sophie didn't have her cellphone on her, the director told him they took cellphones away from campers during the day. She'd called him with Sophie's with the hope he'd answer. Her attempt at a calm tone didn't hide her desperation as she reported that they’d scoured the grounds and were about to call the sheriff.

As Matt pocketed his phone and stepped into the on-deck circle, Alex dinged a seeing-eye ball between first and second, and the crowd went wild.

Matt stepped into the batter’s box.

Nothing looked normal. Not the field, not the pitcher. He felt a tinge of nausea as his mind flashed though options. He’d have to go through with the at-bat. What he needed right then was a home run; it’d get him off the bases. Then he’d just tell Walsh he had an emergency and had to leave the game.

He sucked in a breath and stepped out of the box, calling time. The catcher muttered, but Matt didn’t care. He closed his eyes, and in his mind he saw his hit sail into the center field bleachers. He stepped up to the plate and focused, felt the energy swirl through him. It was all he could do to let the first two pitches go by. Adrenaline pricked through him and his mouth went dry.

The pitcher wound up and released the ball.

Matt stepped, pivoted and heard the crack of the bat. The ball soared high, higher, out into the bay. He ran the bases in a blur. He vaguely heard a rookie in the dugout say he wanted Matt to teach him how to call up energy like that.

Matt stepped over to Walsh and tried to stay calm as he told him the situation.

“There’s no need to alarm anyone,” Matt said to the astonished Walsh. “Win the game. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

Walsh didn’t ask questions as Matt left the dugout. He started for the clubhouse, then turned and made his way through the surprised fans until he reached Alana. He came up behind her and Jackie.

“Uniformed player in the stands?” Jackie said. “Are you crazy?”

Matt went down on one knee, bringing him level with Alana’s face. He held her head and whispered in her ear.

“Sophie’s missing, maybe for several hours. I got the impression they’re not sure how long it’s been since someone last saw her. Evidently they caught her two nights ago out roaming around, but didn’t bother to tell me until now.”

“Oh my God—”

“You know the ranch, Alana, better than anyone. You told me you wandered it as a kid.”

Alana stood. “Let’s go.” She quickly filled Jackie in.

“I’m coming too,” Jackie said.

“I have my sports car,” Matt said. “You’ll have to drive behind...”

“You can try to keep up with me,” she said.

They raced out of the stands and to the parking lot.

Matt sped along the Embarcadero toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Prayed with every mile that there’d be no traffic snarls. Wished he had a helicopter, but his driving skills would have to do.

Alana reached under her feet and pulled up the drawing he’d thrown into the car that morning. It portrayed a woman, an older, wrinkled woman.

“Who’s this?”

Matt glanced at it.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of your staffers. I was going to ask you. Sophie’s made several drawings like that.”

He gripped the wheel until his knuckles blanched. His fury and nerves sliced through his control.


How
could you let your people allow kids to roam alone? It’s dangerous. It’s
irresponsible
. There should be procedures, standards and—”

“You’re being an ass,” Alana said in a measured tone. “And you’ve made your point. I obviously do not meet your standards. I got it.”

“It’s not just my standards, it’s common sense. Anyone with a kid—”

“Stop arguing and drive. There are calls to make.”

She whipped out her phone and within minutes had the sheriff and the fire department on the way to the ranch.

He kept his temper under control as she continued to make calls.

“Peg? It’s Alana. Tell the staff to clear the way for the emergency vehicles. I asked the sheriff to bring the dog team, but they’re in the north county and can’t get there for at least two hours. But lock up the chickens just in case. And look, I don’t want the other kids scared. Jackie’s on her way just behind us.” She paused. “You know, Jackie Tavonesi.” She paused again. “No, I’m with Matt Darrington, Sophie’s dad. Look, when Jackie arrives, have her take the kids down to the pond or out for a game or something. We don’t need the whole camp traumatized.”

Matt was amazed at how quickly and competently Alana had taken control. It was a side of her he’d never seen. A side of her that perhaps he was guilty of not bothering to look for.

Still, though she sounded steady, Matt saw that her hands were shaking.

He slipped one of his own hands under his thigh, not wanting her to see that he was just as shaky as she was.

Chapter 20

 

Though she didn’t say so to Matt, Alana was scared. Scared and pissed. He was so busy accusing her of incompetence that he wasn’t paying attention to what needed to be put into gear. And though she fought them back, unbidden images of the worst possible scenarios knifed through her mind. Sophie could’ve been kidnapped; there were nuts everywhere, and Sophie was a friendly, beautiful child. Or she could’ve fallen out of a tree or tumbled down the rocks at the west side of the ranch.

If anything happened to her... well, she was not going to send out any negative energy. While she wasn’t a hundred percent Northern California woo-woo, she believed enough that she wanted to do all she could to keep her thoughts positive.

And Matt was right about what he’d said to her in the stadium—Sophie may simply have wandered off and become lost. Alana had done the same thing as a child. She’d been maybe seven, maybe six—Sophie’s age—the first time she’d done it. She’d had it with her bickering parents and had gone off following a trail. Before too long, she’d ended up following a butterfly and then a rabbit and then a deer and then the trail ended and she had no idea where she was. The gardener had found her cold and scared, but no worse for the experience.

But what really freaked Alana out was the depth of her feelings for Sophie.

She knew something of what Matt felt—her own feelings matched his, she just had more control in that moment. She’d grown to love Sophie. The little girl had snuck into her heart and settled into a spot that yearned to love unconditionally. With love like that, so open and unguarded, fear could rise so very easily. She recognized that now. As she saw Matt’s knuckles white against the steering wheel, she forgave him his outburst. He wasn’t a man who could tolerate not being in control. That demon haunted her sometimes, so she knew the terror of defenselessness. No one wanted to be vulnerable.

When they reached the ranch, emergency vehicles crowded the frantoio parking area. The fire department had set up an elaborate grid for the search, and the staffers who were not dealing with the other camp kids lined up to do the sweep.

“We’re going west first,” the captain shouted down the line, giving detailed instructions for the search sweep. He eyed Matt’s uniform but to Alana’s relief didn’t say anything.

Peg was positioned in the center of the line; Alana pulled her aside. “I think you’d do better to stay here and handle coordination, Peg.”

“I can’t just sit here and wait.”

“Then keep your walkie-talkie on and keep everybody calm,” Alana ordered firmly. “I’m going to poke about some of my old haunts, places others might not know to look.” She took Peg’s hands. “It’ll be okay. She’s probably just wandered off again, like she did the first day she was here.”

Peg unstrapped a water bottle from her belt. “Take this. And be careful.”

“Will do,” Alana said and started to turn away. Then she turned back. “Peg?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll find her.”

“Yeah, we will.”

In that moment something clicked, and for the first time Alana felt like she belonged at the ranch. It was the word
we
. Alana was part of it. They all were.

Matt jogged up beside her. “I filled the sheriff in on some of Sophie’s habits.”

“I’m headed out to some of my old spots,” she told him.

“I’m coming with you.”

Though Alana had told herself there was no danger lurking, she was glad for Matt’s company.

They walked silently at first. She had to remove her shoes to cross a small creek. He offered her a hand as she hurriedly brushed the sand from her toes and slipped her shoes back on.

“This creek have a name?”

She heard the olive branch he offered.

“Simon and I called it Old Oak Creek. Parker called it Measly River. He’s not much of an outdoorsman.”

“I gathered.”

“I wasn’t much of one either. But given the choice of sitting around with the squabbling adults or setting out here on my own, I’d be out here.”

At a fork in the path, she chose to go southeast, toward the Hartman ranch. Matt didn’t argue, just nodded. She saw the trust there. And the desperation. As they navigated the brambles, being with him, working as a team, felt good.

She saw a dark shape in the path ahead, and her heart picked up its pace as they ran.

“Sophie’s?” she asked, holding out the small fleece jacket she’d scooped up from the path.

Matt nodded.

“We’re on track.” Alana reached for her cellphone but realized she’d left it on the craft table when she’d picked up water bottles.

“Use mine,” Matt said. His batting gloves fell out of his pocket along with the phone. He shoved them back in and handed it to her.

His phone had no reception. There were several spots on the ranch where cell signals didn’t reach.

“Let’s just head over this way; maybe she crossed over to my neighbor’s land,” Alana said, wishing she could tamp down the anxiety she saw in Matt’s eyes.

They reached a barbed-wire fence. Off to her right was a hollow dug under it, just big enough for them to crawl under to the other side. There the path split again. She wished she could remember which branch led to the old hut on Hartman’s property. She arbitrarily chose left.

They rounded a bend and there was Sophie, squatted down and peering at something on the path. Her face lit up when she saw Matt and Alana.

“Dad! Alana! Check this out—lizards mating. It takes forever. They—”

Matt grabbed her up in a huge bear hug. “What the
hell
are you doing way out here?”

Sophie looked from Matt to Alana and back to her dad. Her shoulders dropped in a defensive slump at Matt’s tone.

“I was... well, Mr. Bingman’s talk was boring, and I took a walk and—”

“What’s this?” Alana asked, picking up a scarf printed with butterflies. The scarf was pretty, but it reeked. Under the scarf was a carved stone. Alana knew the stone. It’d been years, but she remembered seeing it in the old hut.

BOOK: Fielder's Choice
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