No Tan Lines (31 page)

A heated intensity rolled off the baseline. The opposition argued and frowned. They weren’t happy. The pitcher threw down his glove, cursed.

The umpire finally nodded to Jeff, then returned to home plate. Trace and Kai looked worried but honored whatever request Jeff might have made. Trace bent, retrieved the boy’s baseball cap from the ground, and passed it to him. Jeff put on his cap and dusted himself off.

He motioned to Brick and Derek, his closest friends on the team. The two kids supported him as he hopped on one foot. The three boys rounded second, then third, and headed home. Jeff ’s face reflected his pain. He was deathly pale, and his lips were pinched.

Brick and Derek released Jeff ten feet from the bag. Jeff panted and hopped; he was a player out to score. He managed to keep his balance as he crossed home plate. He raised his arms in victory.

The umpire shouted,
“Safe!”

Silence held as family and fans looked at one another, awaiting an explanation. No one understood the umpire’s call.

The umpire quickly cleared up their confusion. He raised his voice and said, “The pitcher shoved Jeff Cates but never officially tagged him. The run stands.”

The scoreboard flashed, one number flipped, and the five became a six. The Topaz Tarpon had won the all-star challenge.

No one cheered louder than a supportive family, Shaye thought, as laughter and shouts echoed on the night air. This was the first time she’d stood aside and watched the joy and happiness unfold. It was explosive. The Cateses knew how to love and praise their own. Smiles stretched from ear to ear, and bear hugs left everyone breathless.

Their excitement was short-lived. Then their concern for Jeff took top priority. People soon emptied the bleachers and moved onto the field.

Jeff stood on one foot, supported by his two best friends. He looked ready to pass out. The emergency personnel took over and got him into the ambulance. The Southern Trust player with the injured shoulder was also taken to the hospital.

Shaye heard Nicole promise Jeff she’d meet him there. Jeff wanted the team to celebrate without him. No one would hear of such nonsense. There’d be no partying until Jeff could take part.

She leaned heavily against the fence as her family took off for the hospital. She wanted to go with them, but now was not the time. She’d only make them uncomfortable. All their concentration needed to be on Jeff.

Trace found Shaye standing in the same spot he’d left her. She stared after the ambulance, her expression sad. He put his arms around her and hugged her close.

“Jeff will be fine,” he assured her. “He’s the hero of the night. Winning will carry him through his surgery and recovery. I’m pretty sure he broke his ankle.”

She sighed, soft and wistful. Her cheek rested over his heart. “I may not be able to see him for a day or two,” she said. “Not until family clears out and he’s up for my company.”

“I doubt Nicole will leave his bedside,” he said. “She was pretty shaken up when Jeff got hurt.”

“Getting injured is a big part of sports,” she said. “Jeff is a kid we all wanted to protect.”

“Look how strong he was tonight.”

“He didn’t give up during the rundown.”

“He was smart enough to realize he hadn’t been tagged by the ball,” said Trace. “He came through for Barefoot William.”

“We won.” She smiled against his chest.

“It was a good game.” He bent to look into her eyes. “What about us? You promised me an answer tonight.”

“I haven’t given up either,” she said, smiling up at him. “Whatever my family thinks, you and I are a team. I love you, Trace.”

He picked her up and whirled her around, a man pleased by her decision.“We could have a small victory party all our own.”

“My place or yours?” She left it up to him.

He wanted to bring her into his world, to share his home and see if she could adjust. But Trace realized tonight was not the time. Her life had been turned upside down by family. She was now on the outside looking in.

A sense of familiarity would bring her the most comfort. “The houseboat and Olive,” he finally said. “I’m hoping if I talk really sweetly to your parrot and bribe her with sunflower seeds that she’ll stop calling me Big Guns.”

Shaye leaned back and laughed. “Good luck with that.”

Trace kept Shaye busy over the next few days. They decided to take a long weekend, and neither went to work. Instead they relaxed, something they hadn’t done for a long, long time. They watched television, listened to music, danced, played board games, and made love. They connected on so many levels. He’d never felt closer to another women.

He spent time with Olive, coaxing her to call him Trace. He had little success. The parrot was fixated on Big Guns, followed by a whole lot of moaning.

His assistant, Martin Carson, came to the houseboat and helped plan their wedding. Shaye put him in charge of invitations and the reception. Trace could tell by her expression that she didn’t expect a soul to show. She went very small-scale.

He found a few tasks to occupy his time. He painted the railing on the upper deck of the Horizon a dark blue, while Shaye went on a cleaning streak. She dusted, mopped, and washed windows. She also sorted through every drawer and cupboard, working her way to her bedroom closet.

He located her late one afternoon seated cross-legged on the floor in her bedroom, unpacking a box of framed vintage photographs. He dropped down beside her. “These are amazing,” he said, picking up a black-and-white photo of the pier under construction.

“Uncle Dave preserved the town’s history,” she said while admiring a picture of the carousel.

He held up the largest of the photos. “Barefoot William was an infant back then. There were only three shops on the boardwalk.”

She passed him another photo, one with a dozen big boats scattered offshore. “We were once a commercial fishing village.”

He removed the last remaining photograph from the box and stared with an intensity that drew Shaye’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Trace tapped his finger on the glass of the framed photo. “Who’s this man?”

She took a look. “My great-great-great-grandfather William Cates, the founder of Barefoot William.”

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He then pointed to the dot in the distance. “I have this same photo. That dot is Evan Saunders, William’s archenemy. A lone photographer must have captured them from different angles.”

Her breath caught as she ran one finger along the framed edge. “This reveals so much, then. The men never agreed on town growth or development, but at twilight they shared the beach, the Gulf.”

He nodded. “They had fishing in common.”

“Too bad their disagreements caused such a rivalry between families.”

“A hundred years is a long time to carry a grudge,” he agreed.

“We’re the first to break from the past,” she said. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.” He placed a light, reassuring kiss on her lips, then, tongue-in-cheek, suggested, “We could always start our own town.”

She smiled, liking the idea.

They repacked the photos and shoved the box back into her closet. They both stood. She brushed her hands against her thighs, at a loss what to do next. She’d run out of projects.

“Are you ready to visit Jeff?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said slowly. “Molly sent me a text. Surgery repaired his broken ankle. He’ll remain in the hospital until tomorrow. Then he goes home.”

Trace pulled the car keys from his pocket. “I’m ready, if you’re ready.”

She collected her wallet off her dresser. “On the way, I want to stop and buy a new baseball glove. The one Jeff uses now should’ve been thrown away two years ago.”

Trace drove her to a local sporting goods store, where she purchased the best infielder mitt money could buy. He next stopped at Helium City and bought a giant sports “walking” balloon.

Bobbie Baseball stood four feet high and was three feet around. He was white with black stitching. He wore a small baseball cap and was designed with a smiley face, accordion arms and legs, and wide, flat, cardboard feet. One light push. and Bobbie managed a short walk.

Their gifts in hand, they proceeded to the hospital. Bobbie Baseball sat next to Shaye on the front seat, bouncy and distracting. Trace parked his Porsche in the visitors’ lot. They walked two blocks to the entrance.

They located Jeff on the fifth floor. They glanced inside and found his room momentarily quiet and family-free. Trace nudged Bobbie in ahead of them.

They both smiled when Jeff caught sight of the baseball balloon and laughed. They entered a moment later, just in time to prevent Bobbie from walking into a wall. They positioned the balloon at the end of Jeff ’s bed.

Two patients occupied the room. Both boys had undergone surgery. Jeff’s roommate was Landon Davis from Saunders South. Landon had dislocated his shoulder during the rundown play.

They both had casts.

Each cast had a hundred signatures in Magic Marker.

Trace crossed to Landon and shook the boy’s hand. Landon’s father was an attorney. His firm rented office space at Saunders Square.

He next looked at Jeff and said, “Hello, hero.”

Jeff’s smile was wide and proud.

Shaye came up beside him. She nodded to Landon and gently patted his good shoulder. She then hugged Jeff so hard, he wheezed. “How are you feeling?” she asked him.

“I’m bionic,” Jeff said. “A pin, plate, and four screws are holding my ankle together. Once I’ve healed and the hardware’s removed, I get to keep it.”

She went on to admire all the names on his cast. Many were people she didn’t recognize. “Who are Barry Royce and Thomas Caine?” she asked, confused.

“Players for Southern Trust,” he told her.

Trace noticed Shaye’s surprise. She squinted, read further. “What about Kyle Young and Rosalind Taylor?”

“Classmates of Landon’s,” Jeff said. “Anyone who’s come to visit has signed both our casts. Even the pitcher, Rich Gaffney, wrote his name and a message down by my toes.”

She scanned Rich’s words:
Wait until next year.

The rivalry would continue. “It’s great you’ve made new friends,” she said.

“Friends only for my hospital stay,” said Jeff.

Trace understood. The boys were recovering together now, but once they left the hospital, their association would end. They lived on two different sides of Center Street.

The only time Barefoot William and Saunders South came together was for the summer all-star challenge. Once a year was all either could handle.

He was touched by the depth of emotion between Shaye and Jeff when she presented him with his new leather infielder glove. Tears banked her eyes when her nephew whooped and slipped his hand inside. He pounded the pocket with his fist. It fit perfectly.

“I want to become a great fielder,” Jeff said. “I’ll need to play catch to break in my glove.”

“You’ll have to soften the leather, too,” Landon advised. “I’d use saddle soap or mink oil.”

“Brick uses his dad’s foam shaving cream,” Jeff said. “Derek goes with Vasoline.”

He was so excited over his glove that he forgot Shaye and Trace were still in the room. Within minutes Nicole and Kai arrived. Jeff showed off his glove to an appreciative audience.

The boys began to rehash the ball game, and the adults moved to the hallway, where they had an opportunity to talk.

“The boardwalk’s not the same without you,” Kai was quick to tell Shaye. “Molly’s so worried about your wedding, her cooking has suffered. I ordered a meat loaf sandwich and cup of soup for lunch yesterday and was served a chicken pot pie.”

“Same here,” said Nicole. “Molly burned the bacon on my BLT and gave me mashed potatoes instead of French fries. Her regular customers are being kind and overlooking her mistakes.”

“Jenna at Three Shirts hasn’t placed an order since the volleyball tournament,” Kai continued. “You’ve always helped her with stock and inventory. She’s down to sale items only.”

“How’s Eden doing? Is she open for business?” Shaye asked.

“She’s moved in, and I hung the sign for Old Tyme Portraits just this morning,” said Kai. “I’m helping her get organized. She’d hoped for your approval on the life-size cardboard cutouts before she started taking pictures. She spent more than she should on camera equipment.”

“Goody Gumdrops?” she next asked, concerned about her own shop.

“You’ve trained Nick well,” said Kai. “Our cousin knows the business inside and out. He’s even making bank deposits.”

Shaye appeared relieved.

“Madame Aleta keeps muttering, ‘This, too, will pass,’ ” said Nicole.

The fortune-teller was no doubt right, Trace thought. However, he knew the difficulties Shaye faced. One such problem would be their wedding. They hadn’t received a single RSVP from either family. The bridal party itself had yet to be decided. It was going to be tricky to find two people to stand up for them.

Shaye now breathed deeply as she asked Nicole, “Will you be my maid of honor?” Her voice sounded hollow, but if Nicole noticed, she didn’t let on.

Nicole’s excitement spilled over. She grabbed Shaye and gave her a big hug. “It would be an honor.”

Shaye nudged Trace, and he went along with her earlier suggestion. He met Kai man to man, eye to eye. “I need a best man.”

Kai looked as if he’d rather poke a fork into his own eye. He took a long time to answer, a full minute according to the clock hanging on the wall of the nurses’ station. Trace wasn’t certain he’d agree.

Kai ran one hand down his face and exhaled sharply. “I may not approve of Shaye’s decision, but she’s always been crazy. Only for
her,
” he stressed, “will I stand up at your wedding.”

“Thank you.” Shaye’s voice broke.

Trace pulled her to him and lent her his strength.

She was the strongest woman he knew, yet the lack of family support left her vulnerable. She’d lived her life embraced by many. Now only Kai stood by her side.

He knew that her love for Barefoot William would never die, no matter her future. He would do everything in his power to make her happy for the rest of their lives.