Restoring Hope (13 page)

As she got closer, Nicky saw her and shouted, “Hey, T-Hope come sit by us.” She smiled at Nicky, and he watched as she reluctantly made her way over to the two of them.

“Hi, Nicky.”

“Hiya, T-Hope. You playin’?” Nicky asked.

“Well, they were short players and Big Daddy wouldn’t take no for an answer, so, yeah, I guess I am.”

“Cool. What position?” Nicky asked as he scooted Nic over so she could sit next to him. Nic was beginning to think his son had a crush on her as he watched him puff out his chest.

“Well, I used to play pitcher with my friends when I was a kid.”

“You were a pitcher?” Nicky asked, sounding like he was shocked.

“Hey, girls can pitch,” Hope defended and then nudged shoulders with his son. Nic waited to see if she would say hi to him and after a moment or two of silence; she looked up at him finally and with a small smile said, “Hey, Nic.”

Those two words washed over him, the breathy quality to it like she couldn’t breathe for saying his name. His reaction was immediate; his lip twitched at the sound of his name coming from her lips and then he grinned. Not a “nice to see you” grin, but a grin that could call a woman to him from twenty feet away. He watched as her eyes went to his smile and then she looked away.
They were quite a pair
, Nic thought. Both attracted, but neither one of them willing to do anything about it for their own reasons.

Big Daddy walked over and started shouting positions at the team. When he called Nic and Hope’s names one went to the pitcher’s mound and the other to home plate. Nic grabbed his mitt and ball so they could warm up her arm, and they both stood.

“Show me what you got, sugar,” he whispered in her ear as they made their way to the field. Hope grabbed the ball from him, crossed her arms and for women everywhere said, “You doubt a woman can pitch?”

“Oh, no, sugar, I think you’re capable of doin’ just about anything you set your mind to.”

Hope rolled her eyes like she seemed to do whenever he was around and then chuckled “Whatever,” as she walked to the pitcher’s mound. Henri came over from first base to say something to her and when he was done, felt the need to slap her on that sweet ass. No doubt, he thought since she was playing ball with the boys, it was appropriate. Nic narrowed his eyes at the man and watched as he walked back to first base, grinning. For a brief moment he wished he were on the opposing team, so he could hit a line drive right into Henri’s skull.

“Ready?” Hope shouted, and Nic turned his attention back to his job. Securing the catcher’s mask over his face and kneeling down, he brought his glove up, and readied himself for her first pitch.

To say he was surprised when she threw a perfect strike was no lie. When she threw five more, he was impressed. She looked fragile, angelic, as if a hard wind would blow her away. But, watching her he could see she was made of tougher stuff, hadn’t been coddled as a child or raised to be a debutant like Kat had been. As the game began he enjoyed watching Hope as she waited for his signals, her eyes intent on him as each batter came to the box. The longer they played, he watched her become bolder with the batters, taunting them as she struck each one out. It was then he realized she wasn’t timid or shy, she was guarded, had a wall around her so no one could get in. He’d been attracted to shy Hope, but this Hope, the one who forgot to put her shields up, who high fived her teammates when an inning was over, this Hope was sexy as hell.

It was the bottom of the fifth; the score was tied and the batter was taunting Hope.

“Come on angel face, show me what you got.”

Hope cracked her neck from side to side, feeling alive for the first time in a long time. She’d forgotten how much she loved to play. Had forgotten all the times she and the other kids would grab whatever they could find for bases, and if they didn’t have a real bat and ball, they’d improvise. She’d been a good pitcher, really good. She remembered how the kids fought over who got to be on her team, and she realized there was good with the bad of her childhood.

Caught daydreaming, Nic, shouted, “Strike him out, sugar,” and she pulled her thoughts from the past and focused on the batter. He was big; he was strong, and he’d hit a line drive his last at bat. Watching Nic for a call, he signaled inside, and she nodded. Leaning, knees bent, she wound-up and let the ball fly, putting all her weight into it. The batter misjudged and swung. Strike one. Nic threw the ball back to her smiling and shouted, “There ya go ace.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a woman with long blonde hair dressed as if she was going to a garden party instead of a day at the park. The closer she got, Hope realized it was Kat, Nic’s ex-wife. She tried to keep her eyes off the woman as she swung her hips in an attempt to have every man’s eyes on her. She saw Nic turn his head towards her, his face unreadable and she wondered if he was still in love with her. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and she envisioned her next pitch slamming into Nic’s head as he watched his ex-wife approach. From a place she didn’t want to examine closely, she didn’t wait for Nic to set his stance and let the pitch fly before he was ready, before she was ready. Unfortunately, when it reached home plate the batter caught a piece of it with the end of his bat and sent it driving right at her.

She tried to duck, but the ball caught her in the back of the head, clipping her, not a direct hit. She went down, saw stars, and lay there as the sound of pounding feet came towards her. She heard Nic’s panicked voice shout, “Hope,” as he made his way towards her, and she rolled to her back, opened her eyes and then shut them again. She was pretty sure she saw double unless Big Daddy had grown two heads.

Nic reached Hope the same time as the rest of the team, and started shoving people away so he could get to her. When the ball collided with her head his heart about stopped. She was lying in the grass; her knees bent and a hand over her eyes when he reached her. Relieved to see she wasn’t knocked out, he kneeled down, put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “That’s not how you stop a ball, baby.”

She opened her eyes to look at him and moaned, “There are two of you.”

“That’s it, game over, we’re going to the hospital,” Nic ordered and then picked her up, cradled her in his arms and carried her towards the bench.

“Dad, is she okay?” Nicky shouted; concern written across his face.

“She’ll have a goose egg by nightfall if not sooner,” he told his son.

He was surprised Hope didn’t fight him when he carried her; she’d laid her head on his shoulder and kept her eyes shut. When he reached the bench, he laid her down and put a towel under her head.

“You hanging in there, sugar?” Nic asked her cupping her face and running his thumb back and forth across her cheek.

“Still two of you, lucky me,” Hope whispered trying to breathe through her headache. She pulled the hat off her head, and then pulled the ponytail holder from her hair. The pressure from being pulled back all day wasn’t helping, and when her hair was free, she felt relief. The ball had hit her in the same spot as her ponytail, and she figured she owed not being knocked clean out to her fashion sense. She opened her eyes, and watched as Nic and Nicky gathered their things. She felt bad Nic had to cut the game short, but she wasn’t going to argue about seeing a doctor; she knew head injuries could be serious. As she waited, Kat moved to them both, running her hand through her son’s hair, smiling at him, and then she put her hand to Nic’s arm stopping him.

“Sugar, you’re all hot, why don’t we go someplace cool and grab a bite to eat.”

“Can’t,” Nic replied gruffly and Hope watched his jaw get tight.

“Don’t say can’t, you’ll disappoint Nicky,” Kat pouted and if Hope could have rolled her eyes without hurting more she would have.
Does this woman really think pouting works on men?

“I’m not hungry, besides, Hope got hurt and we need to take her to the doctor,” Nicky jumped in to keep his parents from fighting. Blue eyes, almost as blue as her own turned to Hope, and she watched as the woman turned cold as ice.

“I see, well, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your favorite waitress.” The word waitress came out as an insult, as if waiting tables was beneath her.

Nic barked “Kat,” and Kat turned her eyes to him, softening her face. “Yeah, sugar?” she purred and Nic leaned in and hissed, “Take your claws and go home.” Nic then walked around her, came to Hope with his bag thrown over his shoulder, bent down and without saying a word picked her up again and started heading for his car. Nicky hollered, “I’m coming with you,” then grabbed his bag and followed his father.

Kat stood there watching as her husband and son walked briskly to his car. She realized they’d both forgotten all about her for some blonde bimbo who didn’t know when to duck. Narrowing her eyes at the three of them, she made a note to herself to find out more about the harlot who seemed to have
her
husband’s attention.

The waiting room was crowded, but that was no surprise, so Nic found two seats in the corner for him and Nicky to sit while they waited for Hope. Luckily for their stomachs, the hospital was equipped with a variety of vending machines selling everything from coffee, pop and milk to tuna sandwiches and salad, so they both grabbed a snack while they waited. Nic watched as one person after another came out from the back, wishing he could be inside to hear what the doctor said. The waiting game didn’t set well with a man like Nic; he liked to be in charge of the situation, not at the mercy of others.

After several hours of waiting, snacks consumed and the choice of magazines exhausted, he realized Nicky had gone quiet. When he turned to his son, he caught him staring and turned his eyes to see a teenage girl with blonde hair the color of Chelsea’s and his chest tightened for a moment.

“You okay, Nicky?” he questioned; knowing the resemblance to his sister wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, I miss her ya know? We fought a lot, but I loved her.”

“I know you did, bud.”

“I just wish . . . I should have said something sooner,” Nicky whispered, and he watched his son’s lip quiver.

“Said what?”

“I knew, I mean I did, but I didn’t . . . I found her pot, but she told me it was oregano. I didn’t know any better, so I believed her.”

“Nicky it wasn’t your job to look out for your sister, it was mine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nic assured him; troubled that his son carried any guilt about his sister’s death.
The blame belongs with you.

“You don’t understand; she was using before you and Mom split up,” Nicky explained. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and Nic wrapped an arm around his son and leaned in.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard you and Mom argue about whose fault it is that she started using. Dad, it wasn’t because of you or Mom, she started using before Mom cheated on you.”

Nic closed his eyes; he didn’t think his son knew why they’d divorced. He’d always told them that sometimes people grow apart ‘cause he didn’t want to place blame, have his kids look at their mother differently.

“Nicky, I should have been home more, it’s my fault not—”

“No, Dad, I asked her why she did drugs. She told me because it’s fun; all the cool kids do it. Her friend Wendy told me they did them to fit in.”

Nic sat in shock.
Did Chelsea take drugs because they were cool?
He looked at his son, tall for his age, good-looking and he wondered if Nicky felt the need to be cool.

“Drugs don’t make you cool, Nicky, they—”

“Drugs killed my sister,” Nicky spit out, “You don’t have to worry, Dad, I’d rather be a nerd gettin’ beat up every day than try that stuff.” Relief swept through Nic; his son was a shit liar, and he saw nothing but truth and anger from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Nic asked and watched as his son’s face blanched. Taking a deep breath, Nicky looked at his shoes. “Cause Chelsea and I had a pact never to rat the other out. It was the last secret I had of hers,” Nicky told him, stumbling over his words, trying to be the man he was turning into much faster than Nic wanted. So, he let him be, knowing his son wouldn’t want comfort right now, he’d want to put on a brave face.

Mon Dieu
, had his
‘tite ange
done drugs to fit in?

Clearing his throat, and trying to act like he wasn’t emotional about what he’d just told his father, Nicky straightened, and looked at the door to the ER. As he stared, Hope emerged from the back, an icepack on the back of her head, and Nicky thought not for the first time she was hot. But, she was too old for him, like, way too old, so he figured she’d be perfect for his dad, and if he wasn’t mistaken, and he didn’t think he was, his dad was already interested in her. Why else would they have spent three hours at the hospital on a Saturday?