Love of the Game (29 page)

Two a.m.

Yawning, she shook herself awake enough to change into pajamas and go check on Emma. She pushed open her sister's bedroom slowly to keep the hinge from creaking and peeked inside.

The bed was empty, covers thrown every which way.

An icy sheet of terror iced up her back. Where was Emma?

Don't panic. Check the other side of the bed. Check under the bed. Check the closet. Check behind the curtain.

She upended the room. No Emma.

“Emma!” She scurried into the third bedroom that served as her home office. Empty. She raced into the living room and saw that the front door was standing wide open.

“Emma!” she screamed, and ran out onto the cool cobblestones.

The night was dark and silent. No moon, and only a scattering of stars. An owl hooted. She could see nothing but trees and shadows and the pond.

“Oh my God, the pond!” Kasha sprinted over the rough pavers, stumbled when she hit the grass, and stubbed her toe, but she didn't let that stop her. “Emma!”

She reached the pond glimmering blackly and
gulped in great gobs of air, saw the pristine white swans sitting in the middle of the pond.

But there was no sign of Emma.

She pulled her hair back with her hands so it wouldn't fall down in her face when she studied the ground looking for fresh footprints. No bare feet other than her own.

Thank God, thank God, not in the pond.

Where?

No idea. Had Emma just left? Maybe she was sleepwalking. Or could she have been abducted?

She grabbed her keys and her cell phone and headed for the Prius to go search for her sister.

Her cell phone rang.

It was Molly Banks. “Kasha,” Molly said gently. “She's here, she's safe.”

“You've got Emma? Oh thank God. I'll be right over to get her.”

“Honey, it's almost three in the morning, and we're all exhausted. Emma is already sound asleep in her old bed. Why don't we just wait until daylight?”

“Yes. That's a better idea.”

“In fact, since tomorrow is Sunday, we'll just go ahead and take Emma to Sunday school and church with us and then you can come over for Sunday brunch and pick her up then. How does that sound?”

“Yes, yes,” she babbled. “Thank you, Molly. You are amazing.”

“I've been doing this awhile, honey. These sorts of things happen. It won't take you long to get your sea legs.”

“How did she get all the way across town? How did she know where to go?”

“Actually, I got the call from David's mom.”

“David? The bag boy from the grocery store?”

“Emma tried to climb in through David's bedroom window. Apparently, she and David had a rendezvous planned.”

“But how?”

“Emma's a lot craftier than you might imagine,” Molly said. “She's got a cell phone and knows how to use the GPS app. You have to remember she's
not
eight years old.”

“Oh my gosh. What if . . .” Kasha closed her eyes. “Did she and David . . .”

“No. His parents heard the commotion, and intervened. When his mother asked Emma where she lived, naturally, she gave them our address.”

“I can't believe I let her out of my sight for a second.” Guilt chewed through her like a buzz saw. She'd been so complacent.

“You have to sleep sometime. You're not a prison warden. Please, don't worry. Everything turned out all right. She's safe and that's the important thing,” Molly said. “Go on back to bed. Try to get some sleep. Things will look much better in the morning. I promise.”

B
ut Kasha couldn't go back to sleep, and as soon as it dawn broke, she went to see her mother.

She found Mom filling the hummingbird feeders on the front porch. The second her mother looked up and saw her, she set down the pitcher of sugar water and hurried toward her, eyes wide with concern.

“Where's Emma?” her mother asked.

“At the Bankses.”

“What happened?”

“It's a long story.”

“Do you have a fever?” She placed a hand on Kasha's forehead.

Did she look that bad? “I'm fine, Mom.”

“You're not fine. When did you eat last?”

Kasha shrugged, unable to think about food. “Really, I'm fine.”

“You always were so hard to mother, so independent. I admire that about you, but sometimes, Kasha, you have to let people help you.”

“Really, I'm good.”

“Something's wrong or you wouldn't be over here at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning.”

“Mom—” Kasha started to protest, but clamped her mouth closed.

Her mother was right. She'd been independent to the point of aloofness. It had never been her intention to shut her family out; rather, she'd wanted to keep from caring too much, keep her heart safe, in case
they decided at some point they didn't really want her after all.

But keeping her heart detached hadn't worked. Not with her family. Or with Axel either. It was time she accepted the fact that she needed other people.

“You look exhausted, sweetie. Go pop into your old bed while I make you some oatmeal with bananas and walnuts just the way you like it.”

Unable to resist, Kasha went upstairs to the room that used to be the one she and Jodi had shared. She curled up in the middle of the four-poster bed, wrapped herself in the handmade quilt, and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

She hadn't cried like this since . . . well, she could not remember ever crying like this. It was desperate grief, lonely and hollow and forlorn.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened.

She closed her eyes, willed herself to stop bawling, but the tears just came harder and faster. She felt her mother settle onto the bed with her, draw her into her arms, and mold her body around Kasha.

Mom held her, simply held her, and Kasha let her. The way she'd been unable to let her as that tough, troubled seven-year-old tomboy Maggie and Dan had brought into their home twenty-three years ago.

“You want to tell me what's so terrible?” Mom crooned.

Haltingly, she told her about Emma, and then started crying all over again. “I've failed her.”

“Shh.” Mom rocked her gently. “Shh, it's all right. Emma is safe. She's fit as a fiddle. Nothing happened with that boy.”

“It's not just that. Remember what happened at the Memorial Day party. That thing with those mean
girls, how Emma shoved me? I don't know how to handle her.”

“You just got off to a rocky start. Happens in every new relationship. Do you remember your first day here?”

“No.”

“I don't blame you. It wasn't a day to remember. When we put you to bed, in this very room, you snuck off in the middle of the night and hid in the garden shed again.”

“I did?”

“Yes. And the next night, and the night after that, but on the fourth night, you stayed in your bed.”

“I get what you're saying, but I eventually grew up. It's always going to be like this with Emma. Mentally, she's always going to be eight years old, but physically, she's a grown woman.”

“Agreed. It is a different kind of challenge.”

Kasha pulled a palm down her face. “I thought that I could do this. Provide a good home for her. Be there for her. Love her the way my father never got to.” Fresh tears spilled into her throat, cut off her words.

Mom reached for a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table and tugged them into her hand. “You can do this, Kasha. If you let us help you. Let our friends and community help you. You don't have to go it alone, sweetheart. You never have.”

Kasha sat up. Swiped away the tears. Blew her nose. “I hate asking people for favors.”

“I know.” Her mother reached over to brush a lock of hair off Kasha's forehead. “But helping makes people feel needed. We want to help you. Just like you want to help Emma.”

“I can't figure out how to integrate her into my life so that she'll be safe and happy. I don't know how to be a mother.”

“You know,” Mom said softly. “Here's something to consider. You don't have to move Emma out of the group home. You can still have legal guardianship for her care, but you can allow her to continue to live with the Bankses.”

“But—”

“But what? Think about her. Her friends are there. She feels secure in the group home. You can still visit her, and take her to your house for weekends and holidays. You don't have to go at this thing full bore.”

“Emma didn't grow up in a group home. If it was all she'd ever known, that would be one thing, but until her mother got sick a year ago, Emma was cherished and loved, had a family of her own, a room of her own.”

“She's adjusted to life with the Bankses.”

“How can I leave her in the group home just because it would make things easier for me? For my relationship with Axel?”

“You're feeling guilty over something that was never your fault or your responsibility,” Mom said. “No one would think less of you if you don't take Emma to live with you.”

Kasha tossed the wad of tissues in the wastebasket beside the bed, drew in a heavy sigh, traced a finger over the pattern of the quilt. She recognized this patch. It came from the pink and white pinafore she'd worn to court the day her adoption was finalized. When she'd arrived at her forever home.

“Maybe,” her mother said, “you're just using Emma as an excuse to avoid your feelings for Axel?”

“But how can I have both? He's in New York living
his dream. I can't go there to be with him, even if I did leave Emma in the group home. I love her, and she needs me in a way that Axel doesn't.”

“Are you sure you're not the one who needs her?”

“What do you mean?”

“You need Emma to make amends for what your mother did. She took away your father. Took away your family. Deep inside, you feel like if you can make things right with Emma, you can compensate for what your mother did.”

Kasha stared at her mother, stunned by her insight.

“You can't change the past. You can't undo what your mother did. But you can put love out into the world. You can fully heal and you can make this work. With Axel and with Emma.”

“I don't see how I can fit both Emma and Axel into my world.” Kasha shook her head, gulped back the salty lump of tears sitting high and hard in her throat.

“Your father and I managed with four girls, and running our own business. We got by with help from family and friends. If the love is there, you'll find a way.”

“Yes, but none of us were handicapped, and Dad wasn't a professional baseball player on the road more than he was home.”

“No, but Breeanne's health issues left us juggling medical issues even more complex than what you'll have with Emma. We had trouble making time for our relationship.”

“And I saw the toll Breeanne's illness took on our family.”

“That's why it might be better for you to leave Emma where she is. You can make a place for her in your home and your heart, but it doesn't have to be 24/7. You don't have to jump into the custodial role with both feet.”

Kasha looked her mother in the eyes. She couldn't hurt her by saying what was on her mind. That Emma was the only real blood relative she had in the world. She felt connected to her younger half sister in a way she could not explain.

“I can't fully understand what you're going through,” Mom admitted, lowering her voice. “This is your decision. Just know that whatever you decide, the family supports you one hundred percent.”

“Thank you,” Kasha whispered. “That means more to me than you can ever know.”

Her mother reached over to squeeze her arm. Her touch was warm and soft, nonjudgmental, and accepting. “You've been through a lot of changes lately. You don't have to make any decisions right now. Get some rest. Sleep on it. Things will look clearer after you've had some rest. To go with the oatmeal, I'm going to make you some hot cocoa just like when you first came to us and couldn't sleep. Do you remember that much?”

“I could never forget it,” Kasha said, tears misting her eyes again. “The kindness you always showed me when I came over to play with Jodi was the reason I hid in your shed on that awful night. I knew you would never let anything bad happen to me. I chose you and Dad.”

“Oh, Kasha.” Tears were running down her mother's face now, flowing in a steady stream. “I'm so sorry such a terrible thing happened to you, but so happy you wanted us as your forever family.”

“That's what I want for Emma,” Kasha said. “The same kind of unconditional love that I found here.”

Mom wrapped her arms around Kasha and hugged her tightly. “You'll give it to her, darling. I have ab
solutely no doubt about it. But maybe that means the greatest gift of love you can give her is letting her stay right where she is.”

K
asha's life was an upended jigsaw puzzle and she had no idea how to go about piecing it back together.

A few days had passed since she had broken up with Axel, but it felt like weeks. She didn't answer the phone, didn't even check her messages. It was like time didn't exist. She'd called in sick, too, and though she knew she'd have to get back in action in a day or so, she decided it was worth it to take this break. She wasn't any good to anyone anyway.

Emma's legal papers had come in the mail that morning, and they lay on the table ready for her to sign, alongside a grilled portabella mushroom sandwich fresh off the panini press, but she couldn't concentrate on either one.

Axel was to blame for her confusion. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop thinking about him. But she had to do what was right for Emma. Her own needs and wants didn't matter.

Long ago, she'd resigned herself to a life without romantic love. She cultivated calm and her sphinx face to keep passion—and men—at a distance. She'd managed to arrive at thirty years of age without any entanglements or messy emotional attachments.

And while she might not have been truly happy, she'd been content enough with her life.

But then Emma had come along, and that led her to go to work for the Gunslingers, and that led her to Axel, and that move had changed
everything.

Axel had shaken her complacency, dismantled her
reserve, and penetrated her stony ramparts. He'd stripped her of her defenses, left her raw and aching and exposed.

Worst of all, he'd unleashed her passion.

He'd shown her what she'd been missing, and at the same time opened the door to a world of hurt. He'd given her hope and unimaginable joy, and then
his
passion had taken all that away.

She understood his compulsion. Playing for the Yankees wasn't so much about baseball as it was about hanging on to the son he'd lost. Passion equaled life to Axel, and as long as he held on to the dream, he kept Dylan alive in his heart.

The doorbell rang.

Kasha froze, and it was only then she realized she'd been pacing endlessly back and forth across the kitchen floor, staring at the custody papers, thinking of Axel, and pondering her options.

The bell rang again.

She didn't go to the door. Didn't want company. Willed the visitor to leave.

Another chime of the bell.

Probably it was one of her sisters coming to check up on her. She'd turned off her phone because she'd just needed some time to think. And she'd managed to duck them every time one of them turned up at her house. But this couldn't go on forever. It was time to face things. Anyway, if she didn't go out into the world soon, she knew they'd break down the front door.

Ding-dong.

Groaning, Kasha buried her face in her palms. She didn't want to hear their advice and their murmurs of concern. Didn't want Jodi's philosophy, or Breeanne's gentle hugs, or Suki waltzing in with a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons.

She didn't want to talk. Didn't want to listen. Didn't want to be sociable. She feared she would break down. Cry. Splinter into a million little pieces, and she feared if that happened, she'd never be able to put herself back together again.

And then where would Emma be?

Her sister or sisters—it could be all three of them—weren't giving up. The doorbell rang a fifth time.

Then an insistent fist pounded, a hard, solid rap-a-tap-tap. Assertive. Demanding. That kind of knocking had to be Jodi.

Kasha groaned again. If it had to be anyone, why couldn't it have been gentle Breeanne?

“Kasha, I know you're there. Your car is in the driveway. Open the door.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. No, not Jodi. Not any of her sisters. Not a feminine voice at all.

Axel.

He was at her front door when he was supposed to be in New York.

Kasha pressed a hand to her mouth. She couldn't talk to him. If she opened the door, let him in, all her good intentions would flee and she'd fall into his arms. Much better to keep quiet, stay still until he went away.

“I'm not going away until you answer this door,” he called.

She closed her eyes.
Please, please go.

“Kasha Carlyle, do not make me knock down this door. I don't know if my shoulder could take it.”

She knew he didn't mean the threat, but she sucked in her breath at the thought of it. Had a flashback to her parents' fights when her father would kick down a door or put a fist through the wall because her mother angered him. Passion.