Straight from the Heart (16 page)

The Mavericks were something out of the twilight zone of sport. Their defense had more holes than Swiss cheese. Their team batting average lingered pathetically around a buck ninety-eight. While their neighboring team in South Bend drew legitimate crowds, the Mavericks’ fans followed them as a source of comic relief.

Jace was introduced into the lineup in June. With Rebecca keeping a watchful eye on him, he resisted the urge to rush back into the game full force. He knew he risked injuring himself again if he pushed his knee too hard, but he was eager to prove himself. Lacing on his spikes meant his comeback was under way. One of the goals he had set for himself following his accident was within reach, and he wanted to reach for it with all he had.

Rebecca monitored his progress with mixed feelings. The professional in her wanted to help Jace achieve his goal, to bring him back from his injury as quickly as was medically prudent, to keep him in top form so he could return to his former level of play. The woman in her was not so eager for that to happen. She caught herself being overly cautious in his therapy because a part of her didn’t want him to go back to baseball. Baseball had taken him away from her once. It would do so again.

Their personal relationship had reached a plateau. They saw each other regularly. They were friends. They were lovers. They had yet to have that talk about the future. Rebecca studiously avoided the topic. She told herself that if Jace made no promises, then neither of them could feel badly if things didn’t work out in the end. Somehow the thought didn’t offer much comfort.

So they went on in a kind of limbo through the summer. They spent as much time together as their demanding schedules would allow. The Mavericks’ road trips often kept them apart for days at a time. When Jace was in town, his free time was divided among Rebecca, Justin, Hugh, and his inventions, and Muriel and the gradual renovation of her house. But for the most part, his focus was on baseball.

Unfortunately for the Mavericks, Jace’s intensity was not reflected in their record. One talented, dedicated player couldn’t win games when there were eight other guys on the field to mess things up.

“The big question is, can they keep up their record-setting pace?” Dominique asked as the group took their seats in the box Jace had reserved for them along the third-base line. “The Mavericks have a shot at the all-time Class A record for games lost in a season.”

“I have complete faith in them,” Dr. Cornish announced, adjusting his royal blue cap to cover his growing bald spot.

“Will you listen to that Muriel play?” Hugh said dreamily, as if “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” were a love ballad.

“Mom, look! It’s Uncle Jace!” Justin hung over the railing, waving his oversize fielder’s glove at Jace.

Jace glanced over, waved, and grinned at them, then turned his attention back to the warm-up routine. He snagged a throw from the first baseman and rifled it to second. Rebecca watched him with respect and awe for his athletic ability. Even with a brace on his knee, his every move was marked by an innate sense of grace and power. And he looked great in pinstripes too.

She shook her head in amazement as she studied his uniform. The team couldn’t even manage to get their outfits right. The royal blue logo sewn across the front of their shirts was missing the “s.” It read “Maverick.” Apparently no one cared enough to fix them.

As the rest of the team straggled toward the dugout, Jace trotted across the warning track toward the stands, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of Rebecca and Justin waiting for him, smiling at him. Not even knocking Gooden’s fast-ball out of the park in the ’88 All-Star game had felt as good.

Rebecca was a vision in a silky salmon-colored tank top and a loose-flowing summer skirt that was white with salmon-colored flowers on it. Justin was adorable with his gap-toothed grin and oversize Mavericks’ cap. As he approached the railing, Jace reached up and tugged the boy’s cap down over his eyes.

“Hi, sport. Want me to knock one out of the park for you today?”

Justin yanked his cap back up and stared at Jace as if he were Santa Claus. “Would you, Uncle Jace? That would be so cool!”

“I’ll try.” Jace turned and pointed toward the left field fence. “See that sign for the Studebaker Museum? I’ll aim for that.” He looked up at Rebecca with warm blue eyes. “How about you, beautiful? Anything I can do for you?”

“Come out of the game in one piece,” she said, laughing.

“No sweat.” He smiled. “I’ve got the greatest physical therapist in the world, you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep. You know what else?” he asked, beckoning her to lean over the railing so he could whisper in her ear. “She’s fantastic in the sack too.”

The flush that stained Rebecca’s cheeks matched the roses blooming in the fabric of her skirt.

“You should have worn a hat,” Jace said, teasing. “I think you’re getting a sunburn.”

He winked at her, waved to the rest of the group in the box, and jogged away.

“I’d turn pink, too, if I had him whispering sweet nothings in my ear,” Dominique said, crossing her long, bare legs. She wore a yellow romper that displayed her dark complexion to perfection. A straw hat shaded her exotic face from the afternoon sun.

Rebecca’s expression was wistful as she watched Jace join his teammates. Sweet nothings weren’t what she wanted to hear from him, and yet she was the one keeping him from saying what her heart longed for.

From the first it was vintage Mavericks baseball. Outfielders collided into one another and dropped fly balls. The second baseman threw a ball into the stands on a double play attempt and beaned a priest. The score was six to nothing at the end of five and a half innings. Jace had gotten two hits but had been left stranded on base both times. The most entertaining part of the game when the Mavericks were at bat was watching their batboy—Merlin the robot.

Jace had dressed Merlin up in a catcher’s chest protector and taped a Mavericks’ cap to the robot’s bubble head. The little machine bustled up to home plate as Jace was warming up in the on-deck circle, shooed the umpire and catcher out of the way, and proceeded to clean the plate with a hand vacuum.

The laughter of the crowd segued into cheers as Jace stepped into the batter’s box. He was the team’s only bright spot, and he didn’t disappoint his followers. He took a two-and-one pitch down-town—popping it over the sign for the Studebaker Museum on the left field fence. As he rounded third base, he grinned and waved to a wildly cheering Justin and Rebecca.

At the top of the sixth, the left fielder started breathing into a paper bag between pitches. He had to be assisted from the field by his hypnotist when he dropped a pop fly, allowing a run to score. Not long after that, Turk Lacey was called in from the bull pen to take over on the pitcher’s mound.

After throwing two smoking strikes, he threw three wild pitches—one of which bounced off Merlin, making the robot light up and spin around. The batter warded off the sixth pitch, hitting it in self-defense—right back at Turk. Turk caught the ball, turned, and for no earthly reason fired it to third base, catching Jace a glancing blow off the head.

Rebecca’s heart shot to her throat as Jace went down like a felled tree. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was over the railing and running toward him. She pushed her way through the circle of teammates who stood around him, glancing from the groaning Jace to Turk Lacey.

“Jace!” With no regard for her skirt, she knelt in the dirt beside him and pulled his cap off. An angry red abrasion marked the spot where the ball had scraped his temple. Every ounce of medical knowledge she possessed flew out of her head. All she could think of was that she loved him and he was out, cold as a mackerel. What if he never woke up? Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Geez, Spacy,” Jerome Tarvin said, peeling off his cap and running his fingers back through his greasy black pompadour, “why’d you have to go and bean the only decent player we’ve got?”

Turk’s bushy mustache twitched worriedly beneath his goose-beak nose.

The team’s manager joined the group as Dr. Cornish knelt by Jace. “Is he okay, Doc?”

“I don’t know.” Dr. Cornish took Jace’s pulse and lifted one eyelid to check the response of his pupil to light. “Jace? Jace, can you hear me?”

Jace opened his eyes but couldn’t quite focus them as he looked at the doctor. “Would that I were a glove upon thine hand that I might touch thy cheek,” he recited in stilted tones. “Did I get all the words right this time, Mrs. Brutworg?”

Dr. Cornish looked up at the manager. “He’s been knocked silly.”

Rebecca bit her lip and stroked Jace’s hair. “Jace, sweetheart, it’s me, Becca.”

“Becca.” He smiled inanely as he continued staring at Dr. Cornish. “Will you go to the prom with me?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as they helped him up and walked him to the dugout and down the hall to the locker room.

“I’m all right,” Jace protested as he took a seat on a rubbing table in the trainer’s room, which was located between the locker area and the showers. He shook his head to clear it, then winced and cradled it in his hands as it began to throb.

“Where are you?” Dr. Cornish asked calmly as he checked Jace’s reflexes.

“The locker room in Mishawaka.”

“Who are you?”

“Jace Cooper.”

“Do you think the Kings will have a decent shot at the pennant?”

“Well—”

“Stop it!” Rebecca shrieked.

Both men turned to stare at her, stunned right down to their socks. Rebecca never shrieked. She couldn’t remember ever having a totally irrational moment in her life. Well, she was having one now.

She threw a wet towel at Dr. Cornish. “How can you ask such a stupid question when Jace could have a concussion? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Rebecca, he’s going to be just fine.” The doctor spoke to her slowly and carefully, as if he thought she were dangerously unbalanced and would go stark raving mad at the slightest provocation. “There’s no sign of a concussion.”

Jace motioned Dr. Cornish toward the door as Rebecca started crying in earnest. The doctor shrugged and beat a hasty retreat.

Easing himself off the table, Jace took Rebecca gently in his arms. She buried her nose against the shoulder of his dusty uniform and sobbed.

“You scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Jace said sincerely. He stroked her ebony hair and offered her comfort.

“Why’d I have to go and fall in love with
you
?” she asked angrily. “You make me crazy. I’m
never
crazy.”

“No, sweetheart,” Jace murmured, kissing her ear, “you’re never crazy.”

“Why’d I have to fall for a man with such a dangerous occupation?”

“Baseball isn’t dangerous, honey. This was a freak accident.”

She scowled up at him. “This
team
is a freak accident.”

“You’ll get no argument about that,” Jace said. “With any luck, I won’t be playing with this team much longer.”

Rebecca let her head fall back onto his shoulder again. For a long moment she didn’t say anything, just leaned against him, listening to the showers dripping in the next room. When she did speak, it was a truth she hadn’t wanted to reveal to him.

“I don’t want that either,” she said softly.

Jace moved back a step and stared at her, feeling betrayed. “You don’t want me to go back to the Kings?”

“I want you to succeed, Jace. I really do. But part of me is so afraid I’m going to lose you. I’m afraid that once you go back to Chicago, you’ll forget about me.” She let her gaze drop to the royal blue pinstripes on his shirt and the logo with the missing “s.” “I don’t know if I could go through that again, Jace.”

“Look at me, Becca.” When she didn’t raise her head, he gave her a shake. Startled, she stared into his eyes. “There’s no way you’re going to lose me. I love you. I’d marry you tomorrow if it weren’t for the season and my career being up in the air and the fact that I don’t have a penny to my name. Say the word, and we’ll get engaged right here and now.”

But Rebecca couldn’t say the word. It was stuck in her throat. Jace was offering to make a promise, and experience had taught her he wasn’t terribly good at keeping them.

“What do you want, Becca?” he asked tiredly.

Everything. Nothing. She closed her eyes against the confusion. She hadn’t had a moment’s peace since he’d come back to Mishawaka. Her heart hadn’t had a moment’s rest since he’d left seven years ago.

“Just hold me,” she whispered as tears squeezed between her thick black lashes and streamed down her cheeks.

Jace cursed himself. What kind of man was he, pushing her when she was feeling frightened and vulnerable? A frightened and vulnerable man, he supposed.

He held her for a time, savoring the feel of her in his arms. She felt so right there. She fit against him perfectly, like the piece that had been missing from the puzzle of his life for a long, long time. She was afraid of losing him? The thought of going back to the life he’d had without her terrified him.

He wouldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t let that happen now that he was so close to having it all. He had nearly thrown his life away once. Now he’d wrestled every demon he had and put his life back on track, never to be derailed again.

He only wished Rebecca would see that and believe in him.

“I’m sorry I fell apart on you like that,” she said, lifting her head from his shoulder.

Jace gave her a gentle smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Even you are entitled to get a little wacky every once in a while, Miss Levelheaded. I’m flattered you went wacky over me.”

Rebecca sniffled and chuckled and reached a hand up to brush his smoky blond hair away from the welt on his head. “Speaking of wacky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m going to have a doozy of a headache, but I promise I’m not going to start talking with a hand puppet or anything like that.”

“Good.” Her eyes flooded again as she murmured, “I love you.”

“I know.” He also knew the prospect didn’t exactly thrill her, but he silently promised her that would change. He was winning all the other battles he’d begun after that horrible night on the expressway in Chicago. He would win this one too.