Seems Like Old Times (40 page)

Tony looked at Vic,
then
smiled
broadly, slapping his attorney on the back. "It sounds very plausible, Mr.
Manning."

"Excellent."

"Does this mean I don't have to get a job in
baseball? I can go back to my ranch?"

"You can do anything you'd like. But I thought you
loved baseball."

"I do. And it was a great part of my life. But it's
time to move on. It's time to go home again."

Manning nodded. "Good. I’ll inform Judge Powell of
what's happened here,
then
we'll go to my office to
work out the details of the settlement. Shall we meet in, say, a half
hour?"

Tony agreed, shook hands with Manning,
then
gave Vic a big hug. "Excuse me. I've got to make a phone call."

He took out his phone and called Lisa's number. Her
answering machine picked up and he hung up. Damn, why didn’t she pick up?
Actually, why should she? She was close to the top of her profession, and still
moving up.

He stared his phone. He wanted to tell her his news,
listen to her reaction. She knew exactly what she was doing when she put that
piece together on Ben. And the irony of it was she'd done it fairly--that was
what Dr.
Durelle's
colleagues saw and reacted to.

That piece of film more clearly than anything showed her
talent, and her heart.

When he'd watched her in the past, night after night on
TV, telling news stories and, at times, commenting on them, he'd seen a
beautiful, ambitious,
self confident
woman. What he
failed to see, or hadn't allowed himself see, was a woman with intelligence,
passion and talent for her work. She could do anything she set for herself.
His own
Lisa Marie could hold her own with the best of them.

An
all encompassing
pride swept
over him.

He loved her and he knew he always would. But Miwok would
have stifled her. If they'd married at age eighteen or nineteen like he had
wanted, he would have taken her to every pit stop through the minor leagues.
How long would such a life have satisfied a woman like her? How long before she
would have resented being tied to him that way? How long before that resentment
turned to hate?

Or, if they'd married that young and they'd pursued
separate high-pressure careers, would their marriage have survived it? Youthful
marriages were the shakiest under the best circumstances.

He could see all that now, years later...years wiser.

When he did marry, he'd made a botch of things with
Catherine. She, too, had been beautiful and ambitious, and still was. She had
wanted to get ahead, but instead of doing it on her own, she’d tried to use
others.

Strangely, the bitterness he'd carried for so long against
both the women he'd loved was gone now. Catherine shared a son with him, and
she did love Ben. Lisa shared his past, his present, and maybe, someday, they'd
meet again. If she ever came back home, he’d be here for her if she wanted him.

He glanced at the phone, then picked up the receiver and
punched in her number.

"This is Tony. I wish I could talk to you in person
right now, but I recognize how busy you are so I better give my news to this
machine if I want you to hear it, right? Anyway, Lisa...I got Ben back. You did
it. The
Durelles
and their friends learned some
things about themselves they didn't like. And Catherine's decided kids are too
much work anyway. So Ben's coming home. I don't know how to thank you, Lisa,
except to say, thanks.

"I can see why you love your work,
Lis
'--you're a pro. I admire what you're doing. Hell, I
admire you...

"Well, that's all I wanted to say. Just, thank you,
and remember if you ever get tired of the rarified air up there and want a
little oxygen remember your friend Tony okay? Shoot, I'm making a botch of
this. What I'm trying to say is, I'm always here, okay?
If
you ever need me.
Not that I imagine you ever will. I guess you've only
got one way to go, and that's up. So...good luck, and lots of happiness to
you...I love you...Knock 'em dead,
Lis
--, I mean,
Lee.
Knock'em
dead, Lee."

He hung up the phone, and shut his eyes a moment. Then he
went in search of his father to make the happy trip home.

o0o

It was late when Lee returned to her apartment. She could
scarcely believe the continuing praise she'd been receiving about the baseball
segment. People were saying it had more emotion and more heart than anything
they’d seen on One Hour Report in the four months it’d been on the air--and,
they liked it. They liked it a lot.

She took out her cell phone and turned it on. She’d had to
turn it off to do some interviews for her next show. It kept beeping and
interrupting her.

She went through her messages one by one. When she heard
Tony’s tape, she played it again.

She sat on the sofa, the phone with his message in her
hand. Right before she left the studio that evening, her agent show up,
irritated he couldn’t get through by phone, but so ecstatic he could scarcely
contain his serious, cautious, legalistic self and let her know he’d received
an inquiry from
60 Minutes
. A major milestone in her goal toward
becoming a lead network news anchor was to get a reporter’s position on a
network news show. Now, one of the Big Three news organizations was actually
making inquiries about her.

It was everything she’d always wanted. She should be
proud. She was proud, in fact.

She walked to the windows and looked out on Central Park.
It was a beautiful bit of nature in the middle of one of the most dynamic,
exciting cities in the entire world. To live overlooking Central
Park,
and to work on a major network news program were her
goals, her dream. And it was within reach, finally within reach.

If Judith could see her now, what would she say?

Would Judith finally say, "Good job, daughter?"
Or would she find something else to criticize?

She felt as if she’d spent a lifetime scaling an enormous
tree. Out on a narrow bough was an apple of solid gold. After much climbing and
backsliding and scraping of knees, she’d finally reached that apple. She had
her fingers around it, and all she had to do was pluck it and it would be hers.
Everyone told her she should want that golden apple, and eventually, she'd even
convinced herself. But far below her, at the tree’s trunk, she saw a man, and a
loving little boy...

She raised her eyes to the Manhattan skyline, as thrilling
to her today as it was the first time she saw it. These past months since
Judith’s death had forced her to look back on her life, to remember her years
of trying to make up for her mother’s disappointment in her, and to face things
about herself that she’d been unwilling to face before. Finally, she’d come to
understand, and with understanding, to forgive or at least accept, the way she
had lived her life.

She’d achieved a lot. She could be proud of the national
prominence and wealth she’d acquired by strength of will, hard work, and a bit
of dumb luck.

And yet, one thing about the past stood out with crystal
clarity. As she pondered it, it told her everything she needed to know. It was
simply that, despite all her success, she had never been quite so happy, or her
days quite so filled with the joy of simply being alive, as she was many years
ago in a small town called Miwok, as she was when Tony loved her.

Spring training had come to Miwok in the pale green and
pink pastels of lawns and flowers, and the white pants and colorful jersey tops
of Little League teams. Watching his team, Tony felt as if he, too, had been
reborn. He slid the outfielder's mitt onto his hand, pounded his fist into the
pocket a couple of times,
then
ran onto the
sweet-smelling grass.
Time for fielding practice, teaching
the best way to scoop up a grounder and use two hands on a fly ball.
No Willie
Mays' style "basket" catches allowed. The coaches started with the
fundamentals, getting the ball from second base to first, or third to first,
throwing,
batting
, base running. Nobody had to teach
base stealing--the boys did that naturally. The ability to hit a small sphere
with a thin, cylindrical club has been said to be one of the most difficult
feats in all sports. Tony didn't know about difficult. To him, it was heaven.

This day, everything learned at the
team's
earlier practice sessions would be tested. It was their first spring training
game. The season opener was only three weeks away.

The Tigers, Ben’s new "major league" team, was
warming up in the infield. Suddenly, Ben left short stop and ran over to his
father.

"What're you doing?" Tony yelled, waving his
arms in exasperation. "You belong back there. The batter's at the plate.
He's going to hit the ball any minute now!"

"Dad, look." Ben pointed to the stands.

High in the bleachers, a woman
sat,
a hot dog in one hand, a coke in the other, and a Tigers baseball cap on her
head.

"Holy Christ," Tony said, staring at her,
unbelieving. He peeled off his gloved, tossed it into the dugout and started to
walk toward her,
then
he started to run. She put down
her coke and hotdog and scrambled over the seats down to him.

Just seeing him again was enough to make her head spin and
her face break into a broad smile. She was on the second step from the bottom
as he reached the stands. He stopped running and looked up. She stopped
crawling over benches, and looked down.

He pushed back his cap.
"Hi,
there."

She lifted her cap off, nearly crushing the bill in her
fingers. Her hair was in a French braid, and she wore a light blue blouse and
white slacks. "Hello, Tony."

"This is sure a surprise. I guess you're here to see
how Miriam's doing, right? I run into her now and then. She's sure proud of
you."

"She's part of the reason." Her breath was short
and shallow. "Isn't today the start of the spring training games?"

He looked over his shoulder at the kids on the field as if
having to check that they were still there.
"Yeah, as a
matter of fact."

Her heart thrummed so loudly she was sure he could hear

it
. "Well, then."

"Then...?" He waited. "I don't get
it."

She tried her best to act nonchalant. "I can't
remember when I enjoyed anything as much as I enjoyed baseball with you and Ben
last spring." Her blue eyes searched his face for understanding. "I
didn't want to miss a second of it this year."

His heart leaped, but then he frowned, refusing to let
himself believe the words he was hearing her say. "But baseball goes on
for months."

"I know." Her gaze didn't leave his.
"That's the best part about it."

His throat felt dry. "You can't mean you'll be
staying all that time."

Somewhere she found the strength to step down one more
stair
and lift her hands to his shoulders. "I’m not
working in New York City anymore. I asked for a transfer to San Francisco, to
be a West Coast correspondent, and they gave it to me. So, you see, I’ll have
plenty of time."

He placed his hands on her waist. "You transferred
out here?"

"Yes."

Disbelief and more than a little confusion filled the dark
brown eyes she loved. "You've left it?
Your dream?"

Understand,
her mind pleaded. "There are other
things, I've learned, that mean more to me."

 His hands gripped her tighter at the look in her
eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I’m sure," she whispered. "I just
hope I’m not too late."

He moved closer to her, his hands spread wide against her
back. She swayed closer at his touch. "I watched you walk away from me
three times in my life," he said. "If you’re here with me, it's for
keeps."

"I know."

His eyes narrowed. "I mean, year 'round. Even in
winter when there's nothing but," he shuddered, "basketball."

She laughed. Her eyes grew moist as she slowly ran her
fingers against his thick, straight hair, watching the way it shimmered in the
sunlight. "I like basketball."

He jerked his head away, studying her hard,
his
expression solemn. "I need all of it, Lisa.
Marriage, kids, Miwok.
I'm too old for half way deals. I'd
rather have no deal."

"I know."

He frowned, still not able to believe her. "There are
times I can scarcely breathe I get so full of feelings for you, but I've had to
learn to live without you."

She knew this side of him, the caution,
the
fear of trusting. Teaching him to trust again had to start with her. "I
love you, Tony Santos. I've spent a lifetime growing up without you, and I
think it’s time to change that."

She could see the hope growing in his eyes.

He shook his head as if he were afraid to believe her,
afraid to trust. "I'm a has been ball player, I run a postage stamp size
ranch, I've got a kid who's almost a teenager, an old car, no frills and lots
and lots of baseball. That's it. No fame, no fortune."

Her eyes slowly took in every inch of his face, the face
that had haunted her memory for so many years. Then she smiled. "You’ve
got something else."

"Oh?"

"My
heart,
and I can’t live
without it any longer. It’s been a long journey finding my way back to you,
Tony Santos. But I’m here, and if you’ll have me, I want to stay."

His expression was solemn. Her Tony, who had always been
the one to laugh so easily, to smile, to touch, stared at her as if he was
afraid to hope. "I think I've loved you from the first day we talked, so
many years ago," he said. "The hell of it, Lisa, is that I still
do."