Holm, Stef Ann (47 page)

It
didn't matter that they weren't alone. The kiss was soft and special, making
her heartbeat thud.

She
smiled with Alex as they admired at the lush weeping willows and beautifully
kept garden paths leaving the banks. Halfway to the other side of the lagoon, a
fat raindrop fell. Then another. And another one—until the sky unleashed a
downpour.

The
gondolier propelled them faster to the shelter of trees. Once at the sandy
shore, Camille and Alex stepped out of the boat and ran beneath the canopy of
willow branches.

With
her back against the trunk and Alex's arms braced on both sides of her, she
breathlessly asked, "Now what shall we do?"

"This."

And
he kissed her once more, his tongue entering her mouth. She clung to his
shoulders, kissing him back. The taste of him melted against her lips. She
didn't want the kiss to end.

She
didn't want this day to end.

She
made a conscious effort to keep her mind focused on Alex, the way he made her
feel in this fragment of time. She'd remember it, always.

"We're
getting wet," Alex murmured next to her mouth.

"I
don't want to go back to the hotel yet."

"No?"

"No.
I want to go window shopping."

With
a soft smile, he nodded. "All right."

They
held hands, laughing and running through the downpour to the end of the gardens
and onto the streets, which were all but empty. Most of the pedestrians had
gone inside to wait for the skies to clear from the late summer shower.

Camille
and Alex walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand, stopping every now and then to
look at a display, to admire this or that.

Every
block or so, they held back beneath an awning to share a stolen kiss, then
moved on without any hurry at all in spite of the fact they were soaked
through.

Once
at the hotel, they went through the lobby and up the stairs with a respectable
distance between them. At Camille's door, they entered the room together,
walking across the floor and kissing at the same time, stripping away wet
clothes that fell in sodden piles about them. And on the bed, they lay naked in
each other's arms, caressing, touching, marveling.

Making
love.

Alex
didn't leave until the first rays of light filtered through the room.

The
next day, they left for Chicago. And each night when the hallways grew quiet
and guests had extinguished the lights in their hotel rooms, Alex and Camille
found their way to one another, sharing a bed and the needs that had been
building during the day through brushes of their hands, caressing gazes, and
conversations that held a more intimate meaning than was apparent on the
surface.

Discussing
promises that hadn't—and wouldn't— be made would only make Camille long for
something she couldn't have—his love, the gift of his name, a wedding ring, and
a walk down the aisle to be his bride. Alex had been perfectly honest from the
beginning. She'd take what she could of their time together, and perhaps along
the way, something would change.

The
word
affair
didn't linger in her mind. To confront it would mean she'd
have to admit she wanted to make love with Alex Cordova without any promises.
What did that say about her?

For
now, she didn't give herself a chance to think about it.

Because
the Keystones had defied every odd against them and, this afternoon, had beaten
the Chicago White Stockings.

Harmony's
Honeybees were going home to play for the pennant.

* * * * *

Alex
tucked the newly arrived letter behind the boxes of cut nails and cans of
varnish. There was no question now. No more wondering what if. Captain had been
accepted by Silas Denton as a patient. They were to be in Buffalo next week.

Sunshine
splashed through the open doors of the wood shop as Alex sanded the long piece
of ash he'd made into a bat. The wood was finely grained, perfect for hitting
balls out of the park if a batter knew how to wield it with just the right pull
in his swing. He took a cloth and wiped the bat clean, ridding it of all dust.
Then he reached for the red-hot iron bit and started to draw the face of a bear
on the wide end of the bat. Tight and controlled strokes, he drew the nose and
hair, the eyes, the muzzle, the teeth.

For
his last game with the Keystones, Alex was going to play as "the
Grizz." In a few hours at Municipal Field, either the Boston Somersets or
the Harmony Keystones were going to win the pennant. The series was tied three
apiece. Camille had done it. She'd brought them this close.

When
he finished with the bat, he went outside to let the heat pour over his face.
He walked to the back of the property, to the square pitching zone he'd made
from timbers. Staring at it, he looked at the bucket of baseballs, his thoughts
going to Camille. To the day she'd found him throwing balls. He couldn't
imagine not staying with her. He couldn't imagine not taking Cap to New York.

Cap
appeared from behind the building's corner. Confusion marked his expression as
he frowned at Alex.

"Alex,
I have to ask you something."

"Yeah,
Cap?" he replied, absently picking up one of the baseballs and throwing it
into the mound of dirt. He grabbed another ball. "What it is?"

"Do
I know a guy named Joe?"

Alex
froze. He looked at the baseball in his hand, then at Cap, who waited with
quiet expectation in his eyes. As if he already knew the answer. "Yeah,
you do."

"I
thought so. He plays baseball, doesn't he?"

No
shock or surprise registered in Alex. Deep down, from the progress Cap had been
making, he knew this would come out. "He did."

Captain
nodded, then ran his hand through his clipped black hair. His eyes lowered to
the baseballs in the bucket, then at the one in Alex's hand. "I think I
want to try to see if I can play baseball. Would you throw me some balls,
Alex?"

"Yeah,
sure, Cap."

Cap
stood a fair distance apart and Alex tossed him a soft one.

"Not
like that," Cap directed him. "Throw me one like you'd throw to the
Keystones."

Alex
wound up and threw a hard pitch. Cap reached out for it without flinching. Then
he hurled it back to Alex. They shot the ball back and forth to each other for
a while, then Alex quietly asked, "Cap, do you want to meet Joe?"

Captain
nodded. "I think I'd like to."

"I'm
glad to hear that, because we're going to go to a doctor in Buffalo, New
York." For the first time, he said the plans out loud; it gave him
resolution—no backing away or changing his mind. "Not like those docs you
saw before. This doctor is the best. He said you can come see him. It's all
set. We'll leave next week."

Captain
lowered his arm. "You say he's not like the other docs?"

"No.
He's a good one. He can help you get to know Joe."

Regarding
him with undiluted trust, Cap said, "Okay. I'll go to Buffalo as long as
we'll come back to Harmony—all right? I have my job and Hildegarde is here. I
don't want to leave Hildegarde forever."

Alex
didn't know how to reply. It all depended on so much. In the end, all he could
offer was, "It'll all work out, Cap."

* * * * *

"This
could be it," her father said with unbridled euphoria. "The last game
of the pennant is only hours away and we could win. Camille sugar, are you sure
you have everything ready? The lineup, the equipment? You should have plenty of
drinking water in the barrel, towels, bandages—but we won't think along those
lines." He stood in his store wearing his best suit and black string tie.
Pacing in front of the counter, he continued to question her without giving her
a chance to reply. "Do you have plenty of new balls? Glove leather oil? Is
the lineup made out? Oh,

I
asked that already. What did you say? All right, it should be good weather for
today's game. Sunny. Not overly hot. But then again, I saw clouds on the
horizon. White, though."

Camille
reached out and touched him on the arm. "Daddy, if we win, it's not going
to have anything to do with having bandages on hand and the water barrel in
order. We'll win because the players have played the best game they can."

"I
know that." His eyes searched hers and he smiled. "But this could be
the biggest day of my life. If we win this one, we win the pennant. It all
rides on these nine innings. Do you think the Keystones can do it?"

"Yes,
I do."

Unexpectedly,
he engulfed her in a bear hug. "Camille sugar, however it goes, I'm so
proud of you."

Her
heart sang with his love and appreciation.

He
patted her back, then awkwardly pulled away, and, to her surprise, took the
handkerchief from his coat pocket and loudly blew his nose. "You'd better
get over to the ball field if you're going to make it on time."

She
grinned, feeling tears fill her eyes. "I'm never late."

She
left the store with mixed feelings. The Keystones had come so far. So had she.
But her steps lacked the lightness they should have as she walked to Municipal
Field.

Today
Camille was going to tell Alex she loved him.

She
couldn't pretend that stolen moments were enough anymore. They weren't. The
baseball season had come to an end. She'd give it up for him, if that meant
they could be a couple. She knew she'd told the players nothing would make her
quit; she'd do everything possible to keep her relationship with Alex and
manage them. If they were married, she didn't see how there could be a problem.

Either
they'd commit to spending the rest of their lives together or she'd tell him
she couldn't see him anymore. It was too painful to go on wishing for things
that might or might not ever happen.

She
thought she'd be happy going to the pennant, having that chance to prove to her
father that she'd done the job well, but she realized now that it meant
nothing. Not without knowing that Alex would be there for her for all the days
to come—that win or lose, they'd have each other.

She
was about to step off the corner when Hildegarde hurried up the boardwalk. She
was crying. She had both hands on her round cheeks as she moved swiftly toward
Camille.

"Hildegarde,"
Camille called to her friend, going to her side to stop her. "What's
happened?"

Hildegarde's
face flushed with bright color. "I have to go home and tell my
mother." Her eyes glittered as she stared at Camille. "Captain told
me he's leaving town next week. He and Alex are going to New York."

"New
York?" A soft gasp escaped her. She stared at Hildegarde, her insides
quaking. "But they'll be back..."

"I
don't think so. I couldn't listen to any more. I just kept thinking that he
gave me Violette France perfume. And that I love him with all my heart."
Fresh tears caught on the young woman's thick lashes. "Captain said he's
going to be seeing a new doctor. I want him to, but I want him to be with me,
too."

"New
doctor?" Camille heard herself speaking, but it didn't seem to be her
voice.
Leaving for New York next week.

Hildegarde's
tears came anew. "I need to go home. I... can't believe he's
leaving."

Then
she was gone.

The
shock of the discovery hit Camille full force, holding her to the spot, with
only a fragile control keeping her from crying herself. But there was no time
to do anything, to say anything.

Less
than fifteen minutes later, she was in the Keystones clubhouse, reciting the
most important lineup in her career as a manager and giving Alex glances that
were so unsteady, she could hardly breathe, much less think.

As
the game began, Camille sat on the bench, numbness seeping into her bones. She
could barely keep her mind on the activity in front of her. A brittleness edged
her normally calm demeanor. Her temper rose to a degree where it boiled,
something she rarely experienced, much less showed. She was angry and hurt,
wanting to say nothing to Alex other than tell him he was unkind.

Once,
their eyes met, and she sensed he knew what had gotten her so upset. Clearly,
her dark mood was evidence enough that she wasn't herself. But the fact that
she couldn't look at him without her pulse tripping, without wanting to ask him
why he'd not told her his plans, had her snapping at him in front of the
players rather than questioning him. And even if he did have an explanation to
offer her, he couldn't exactly talk about it in the middle of a pennant game,
in the middle of a dozen players watching and listening on the bench.

Fly-off-the-handle
comments came out of her mouth at the umpire; as luck would have it, Mr.
Carpio, the man she had to remind herself not to call something else, bore the
brunt of her raised voice.

In
the bottom of the ninth, the score tied, with Boston turning on every bit of
power they had. Bones smacked one into right field and dashed to first. Seeing
he had to hustle to make the base, Bones slid into the bag, only to be called
out by Mr. Carpio when the first baseman tagged Bones on the leg.