No Breaking My Heart (15 page)

The Rogues starting lineup was out in force. All except Sam Matthews. Apparently the cat whiskers drawn on his face with permanent marker at Boner's were still visible, even after a hard scrubbing. He refused to draw attention to himself. His winner didn't mind. The sixty year old elementary school crossing guard from small town Wytheville, Virginia, took Sam's absence in stride, and hung out with pitcher Will Ridgeway and the disabled veteran.

The attending ballplayers were personable and accommodating to their contest winners. Everybody seemed to be having a good time. Smiles and laughter. Lots of interaction.

The flames danced against the twilight, casting fiery color on the people, across the sand, and into the Gulf. “Your community liaison asked me to take some pictures,” she said to Land. “I need to mingle.”

“Jillian likes to mark the moment. Stop back when you're done,” he requested. “We need to continue our conversation from last night.”

The fact he wanted to talk with her further made her smile. “Will do, but it could be a while.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Camera bag hooked over her shoulder, Nikon in hand, she walked away from the best-looking man at the bonfire. His freshly creased Florida print shirt and board shorts did him justice. He was pure beach heat.

Over the next hour, she strolled around the fire, capturing the event. She avoided the posers, Zoo in particular, preferring honest, unguarded shots when people weren't looking.

She moved toward the turquoise lifeguard stand, focusing on Halo Todd and the Jaynes. They gathered beneath the structure, at the cement base. Halo rested one hand on the young boy's shoulder, brushed arms with his sister, and conversed at length with their mother.

He hunkered down every so often to pet Alyn's disabled pug in his handicap cart. No dogs were allowed on the beach. But diapered Quigley wasn't an issue. Quigs barked whenever Halo scratched his ears.

Eden knew Halo only by reputation. The man was hard-edged handsome, and impatient to a fault. Rumors said his relationships were quick and easy. His women, replaceable.

What a difference a year made. The right fielder had acted crazy and immature the previous season. Had thought only of himself. He was calm at the moment. Not the outrageous jerk who'd once made Rylan cringe.

Halo concentrated on the boy, yet his gaze strayed to Alyn. Repeatedly. The camera lens didn't lie. Eden photographed their souls. Halo showed more than a casual regard.
Family man
crossed her mind, as she shot several frames. She believed Halo's interest in the pretty brunette was genuine.

Only time would tell how long it would last. Perhaps Alyn would bring out the best in him. Eden could only hope so. Even from a distance, she sensed Alyn's vulnerability. Her body language spoke volumes, in the way she dipped her head, half-smiled, and didn't fully commit to the conversation. It was obvious she had been burned by someone or some situation. Surely Halo was smart enough not to let her down. Not to break her heart.

Eden went on to photograph the catering cart, rolled onto the sand by several husky guys. The opportunity to roast hot dogs and toast marshmallows had arrived. The person in charge passed out long, forked metal skewers. Those wanting to eat gathered near the lower flames.

An hour passed, and she slowly worked her way toward Landon. His back was to her. She watched Eleanor tuck her arm through his, wink, and say, “If only I was sixty years younger.”

To which Land replied, “Or I was sixty years older.”

The older woman sighed. “You're kind, Landon.”

“And truthful. You're still a looker.”

Her wrinkles faded into her smile. “How do you like my new T-shirt?” she asked. “I used the restroom at Three Shirts to the Wind, and saw the tee on my way out.” She'd pulled on the red shirt over her white collared blouse. “My new mantra,” she said of the gold script lettering:
I WILL NEVER BE OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER
.

“Definitely you,” said Landon.

“Herman liked it. He encouraged me to buy it.” Her cane. The shirt was bright, youthful. Eleanor was pleased by her purchase. That's all that mattered.

Eden focused on the two of them, and took a profile photo. An interesting composition. Darkness backed them, while a mirage of flame crept toward them. It was surreal.

The click of the camera caught Land's attention. And drew his grin. “You're back.”

“I've made my rounds.” She was glad to return to him.

He seemed happy to see her, too. He gave her a slow wink, and his smile tipped up, sexy and appreciative.

Eleanor looked her over. “I met you earlier. You're a gypsy.”

Not quite the look Eden was going for, but close to it, she guessed. Free and flirty was the image she'd had in mind when she'd wrapped her hair in a gray-and-silver paisley bandana. A gauzy pink blouse tucked into a pastel, ankle-length, tiered skirt. She carried her orange flip-flops. A coat of raspberry polish on her toenails.

Eleanor eyed her still. “You snapped my picture as I came down the boardwalk stairs, holding on to Landon's arm. Landon was great support. Both he and Herman.”

“Would you like a copy?” Eden asked. “I print duplicates.”

“Yes, I would.” Eleanor extended her hand, touched Eden on the arm. “I like you, dear. You're most kind.” She looked toward the caterer's cart. “What's it take to get a weenie?” she requested. “Do I have to roast my own?”

“I'll roast you one,” Land offered. “Hot dog buns are available at the cart. What would you like? Ketchup, mustard?”

“The works,” Eleanor replied. “I took an antacid earlier today. So lots of relish and pile on the onions.” She nudged Eden with her cane. “You go with him. Make sure he gets it right. I'm going to wander over and meet that handicapped dog. Cute little pug. I hope he doesn't bite.”

“Quigley is gentle,” Landon assured her. “The back half of his body is paralyzed, and he has an occasional twitch. Don't let that scare you.”

“Poor little guy. I'll try not to frighten him with my own aches, pains, pops, and twitches. Old age is challenging,” she said. “I still get around. Thanks to Herman.” She shuffled through the sand toward the lifeguard stand.

“She's a neat lady,” Eden said as they headed toward the big metal cart. “Spunky.”

“Eleanor's adventurous,” said Land. “She's traveling with a friend to Peru and China next year. They want to climb Machu Picchu and walk the Great Wall, which could take some time.”

“How old is her friend?”

“Ninety-five.”

“Good for them,” Eden admired. “I hope I never slow down.”

“You have too many pictures to take to ever retire.”

“I capture life on film,” she slowly said. “I need to get out and live it more.”

“Where would you start?”

“I've lived in Barefoot William all my life. There's no place like it.” She loved her home, but she also dreamed. “I'd love to photograph Europe. From the cities to the countryside. Soak in the culture and history.”

“Richmond has history. Old mansions and Civil War battlefields. Cemeteries,” he noted. “Museums and monuments.”

“I want to travel outside the States.”

“Why? When there's so much to see here.”

Her heart was set on going abroad. “Where are you from, Landon?”

“Milwaukee.”

“Cheese,” she murmured. “I always associate cheese with Wisconsin.”

“We're more than dairy land,” he said. “Wisconsin Dells, Lake Geneva, Green Bay, an incredible place.”

“I believe you,” she said, then had to add, “every time I make a grilled cheese, I'll think of you.”

“You eat the sandwich often?”

“Several times a week.”

“I'll be on your mind a lot.”

Yes, he would.

They reached the caterer's cart, and stood in line for their hot dogs and long, metal roasting skewers. Eden scanned the boardwalk and shops while they waited. Loud voices and merriment rose on the night air. A huge crowd hovered at the railing, catching the activity of the bonfire below. The Rogues dominated the town during spring training. Wherever they were, people wanted to be. Once the event ended, those watching would swarm the ballplayers.

Nighttime entertainers emerged, visible beneath the neon signs and pole lights. Slow-moving stilt walkers towered over the crowd. Unicyclists maneuvered in tight circles. Pedicab service stalled. The rickshaws were swallowed in the crush.

“Six inch or foot-long?” Landon asked, nudging her arm.

The line had progressively moved forward, and they were next to order. She was hungry, but wasn't certain she could manage the larger of the two. “Six,” she decided.

Landon gave the caterer their order. “One six and two foot-long.”

Eden couldn't help but grin. “You're getting Eleanor a big one?”

“And you're going to take her picture when she eats it.”

Eden liked his idea. “A Kodak moment. A photo worth framing.”

The food server skewered their hot dogs. They crossed back to the bonfire to roast them. Once cooked, they would return to the cart for buns and condiments.

They stood on the edge of the flames, had their own techniques for roasting. Eden had campfire days behind her, and she cooked her hot dog evenly.

Even though Landon turned his skewers, the meal caught fire. He shook the skewers to put out the flame. “Crispy but not completely burnt,” he muttered.

“Eleanor will appreciate whatever you bring her,” Eden assured him. “You're covering it with the works.”

Land blew out a breath. “You're right. She'll barely be able to taste the hot dog with mounds of relish and onions.”

They soon walked back to the cart. “You can toast the marshmallows,” he suggested. “Eleanor likes them golden brown.”

She took his mention of the marshmallows as an invitation to stick around. She would hang out for a while. Take a few more pictures.

Juggling paper plates, napkins, and sodas, they located Eleanor. She saw them coming, and met them halfway. The older woman's eyes popped when Landon passed her the food. “A foot-long! I haven't had one since 1937,” she reminisced. “Virginia State Fair, I was twelve.”

“Did you eat the whole thing back then?” asked Land.

“Hot dog
and
a basket of onion rings.” She sighed. “I'll be lucky to get through a third of it now.”

It became a balancing act to hold the sodas and plates, and eat all at the same time. Land was considerate. “There are beach chairs, if you'd rather sit.”

“I sit so much of the day, it's good to stand tonight.” Eleanor dug in.

“Hold my plate?” Eden asked Landon. She side-eyed Eleanor. “Photo op.”

Eden took a series of six pictures. They were priceless. Her favorite was Landon taking a napkin to Eleanor's cheek when she smeared mustard. The older woman surprised them both, and even herself, when she polished off the foot-long. She grinned. “I can't believe I ate the whole thing.”

Landon had accomplished the same feat. He was a big guy, Eden thought, and could've gone for seconds. He didn't. Instead he winked at Eleanor and asked, “Did you save room for marshmallows?”

“Maybe one, but only after I walk around a bit and my food settles. Don't wait for me to enjoy your own.” She handed Landon her empty plate, then took a final sip of her soda. Land took the empty can from her. She then looked around, came to a decision. “I've chatted with Danny, Halo's contest winner. I've not spent any time with the war veteran. I need to express my gratitude to him for serving our country.” She was gone. Which left Eden and Landon alone.

“I love her spirit,” said Eden.

“I immediately knew when I read her letter that she was my front-runner.”

“A man fast to judgment.”

“Not often. I always weigh my options. Decide what's best for me. For the long run.”

“I tend to be cautious, too.”

“Even with me?”

“Especially with you.”

“You mentioned last night I was different than you expected. How so?”

She finished off her hot dog before responding. What should have been one bite, became three.

Landon eyed her, amused. “You're stalling.”

She delayed further by taking slow sips of her soda. She stretched out the last swallow as long as she could.

“Good to the last drop,” said Landon.

She'd drained the can, and her throat was again dry. It was difficult to speak. “I didn't like you when we first met,” she forced out. “You blew me off.”

His brow creased. “Time and place?”

“Last season. Flower show on the boardwalk.”

His gaze narrowed and his jaw worked. Momentarily confused. “That's not how I remember it,” he talked it out. “I saw you seconds before your cousin Shaye introduced us. You were hyped, happy, and dancing down the boardwalk. To the music in your head. No partner, just you.”

Sheryl Crowe's “Soak Up the Sun” was her go-to beach song.

“You had a big pink flower in your hair—”

“A gerbera daisy,” she remembered.

“You wore dark blue wraparound Ray-Bans. I couldn't see your eyes. I had no idea if you were looking at me or at someone else on the boardwalk. I kept glancing over my shoulder to see who'd caught your attention. You barely said two words, so I looked away.”

She'd been staring at him. Intently. Her heart racing. The man was gorgeous. Blindingly so. When she hadn't held his attention, she'd danced herself away. Two-stepping and twirling to the mental beat of “No Time Left” by The Guess Who. He hadn't been on her list of repeat performances. Not for a year anyway. Here they stood now. Discussing a misunderstanding on both their parts. It felt good to air it out.