The Good Mom (14 page)

“Cool.” He grinned at Brandon. “Good job.”

“Exactly,” Brandon agreed.

“What's that about?” Ashley snapped.

“I played Mercutio,” Aidan explained to Brandon. “I got to die in this really excellent sword fight scene we choreographed.”

“That's who my friend Cho is playing,” Brandon said excitedly.

“It's a St. Bart's tradition for the first-year students,” Aidan said matter-of-factly to Ashley.

“But they're so young! Just babies!”

Brandon groaned while Aidan just laughed.

“You two are ganging up on me,” she said.

“No,” they said at the same time.

“When can I have my phone back?” Brandon said to Aidan.

“When you pass your first math test,” Aidan said without missing a beat.

“And then I can have my phone?”

“I won't be here to keep it from you,” Aidan said.

“Good,” Brandon retorted.

Aidan nodded calmly. “You done with dinner?” He pointed to the clock. “Because we need to start studying.”

She watched the two of them walk away, the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

Life was changing, and it was bittersweet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
IDAN
CAUGHT
HIMSELF
SMILING
, which was a very strange feeling these days. Ironic that now that he was leaving Boston, he was beginning to appreciate some of the things about it that he'd either never noticed before, or that he'd looked down upon.

The city's ballpark, for example. Gram was owner and CEO of the New England Captains baseball team. Had been since Aidan was young, when she'd inherited it from his grandfather, a man that Aidan barely remembered in person. During his lifetime, Aidan's grandfather had been a fixture in the media. In those photos, he wore a business suit, a hat and a perpetual frown. A self-made man, he'd been in the trucking business. And he'd encouraged all his children to study medicine, presumably as affected by his son's death as Aidan's grandmother was. Aidan's aunts and uncles were all doctors, and married to doctors, just as Aidan's parents were.

Aidan was taking a break from all that. A six-month-long break, he hoped, and maybe more, depending on what he decided on the trail, eventually, once he got there.

But for now, he drank in the excitement that was Lansdowne Street before a big home game. Vendors were selling the distinctive blue Captains caps with the white letter
C
. The smell of sausage and pepper grinders filled the air. Also big, doughy pretzels, with lots of salt. Throngs of people—families, couples, groups of friends, young and old—crowded the street, now reserved for foot-traffic only. Most people got into the spirit and wore Captains-themed clothing. His grandmother made a fortune on that stuff.

Aidan also knew that she was leaving most of her huge fortune to charity. Years ago, he'd been part of a big family meeting where she'd informed them all that it was never her intention for them to be so wealthy that they were tempted not to work, not to continue to “improve humanity,” as she put it. She took fierce pride that
her
progeny—she, a second-generation immigrant to America—continued with the “improvement of mankind.” And thus, some of Aidan's cousins worked in research—high-tech drug development—others were highly respected medical specialists. His uncle was chief of staff at Wellness Hospital. An aunt was one of the top breast cancer doctors in the city.

He doubted
they
ever took an afternoon off to watch a Captains home game.

Chuckling to himself, aware that he probably looked like a maniac, he walked alone, swept along with the happy crowd into the front of the monstrous stadium located in the heart of the city.

When it was his turn at the entrance gate, he held out his ticket to be scanned, then was inside the massive lower floors. There were storefronts for programs, caps, popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs. The groaning organ music played loudly, making him smile with the childhood memories of coming to a game and sitting with his grandmother.

He stopped off to purchase a program with a half-size pencil nub—the better to keep score with—and then on a whim, bought a hat, too. Two hats. One for him and one for Ashley. He'd noticed that while Brandon seemed to live in his beat-up Captains hat, Ashley didn't wear one. She would need a hat for the game, though, to show her team pride. It was practically a rule at Captains games.

Enjoying himself, Aidan headed up the escalator to the section of the park where his seat was located. First base line, directly over the Captains dugout. He was glad he'd bought the cap, because his seat was in full sun. But it was the shock of stepping out from the cool, shady overhang and facing the baseball diamond that made him blink. The field was so green, so wide. Batting practice was going on, and quite a few kids were seated with their baseball gloves aloft. Sometimes a foul ball was tipped into the stands, to the kids' delight.

Aidan took his seat and opened his program. Crazy, but he felt like keeping score as he'd loved to do when he was a kid. With his pencil nub, he began copying the players' names in the starting “batters order” displayed on the big screen across the field. He didn't recognize any of them. Damn, when had he stopped following his favorite sport? He really should do more of the things that
he
enjoyed doing...

“Bee-yah hee-yah!” A concessionaire, a thin guy in his twenties carrying a tray of freshly poured brews, stood at the top of his aisle.

Aidan flagged him down. The guy deftly descended the cement stairs, and Aidan handed him cash in exchange for a beer in a plastic cup bearing the Captains logo. He could almost taste the cold brew in anticipation. When a hot dog vendor came by, he'd grab one of them, too.

He sat through batting practice and then a display of local kids showing their marching band skills. Just when he was wondering when Brandon LaValley would make his appearance on field, Aidan saw him.

The announcer called out his name, and the entire stadium stood and cheered. Aidan's jaw dropped. He had no idea how well known and beloved the kid was by fans. Brandon raised his gloved hand and waved to the crowd.

And then, on the big screen where the scores were shown, a video played.

“Please direct your attention to the scoreboard while Brandon LaValley, childhood cancer survivor and spokesperson for the Sunshine Club, tells us about the contributions that you can make. Friends of the Sunshine Club will be appearing in the aisles to take your donations. Please give generously.”

And then men and women, who had been previously carrying trays of pretzels and popcorn, walked the aisles with canisters. Attendees dropped loose change inside, occasionally bills. Aidan checked his wallet, took out a ten and stuffed it inside.

All the while, the video of Brandon, talking about what the Sunshine Club had meant to him, played overhead.

Aidan couldn't believe it. He was in shock.

The scruffy kid, the lazy student who seemed to want nothing more than to get his phone back, was a citywide celebrity? A true fundraising phenomenon?

His grandmother's machinations made sense to Aidan now. She wanted this kid on board with her organization, and to stay there.

Slack-jawed, Aidan sat with his half-eaten hot dog.

His grandmother had gotten Brandon the ball-boy job. Gotten him into St. Bart's so he could pursue his dream. Kept him working just enough that he wasn't overexposed—one weekend home game a week was enough, apparently. Aidan ran a quick calculation of what he was bringing in, in exposure and donations and goodwill, to Gram's pet charity.

The Sunshine Club was her baby. Gram liked to mention—and Brandon had in his talk, as well—that there was still a long way to go and a lot of work to be done.

Aidan had been railroaded into helping Brandon for his grandmother. He'd known it, of course, but he hadn't realized the scope and impact of it until now.

Ashley had been caught up in it, as well.

Aidan sat there in the sun. A couple sat beside him—between him and the aisle. The empty seat for Ashley was on the other side.

The woman in the couple smiled at him. “Are you a friend of Ashley LaValley's?”

She was probably asking because these were likely the “ball boy” seats, designated for family of the volunteers.

Aidan cleared his throat. “Yes. She's coming later.”

“Our daughter is a team ball girl.”

Aidan glanced out at the field. The players were being introduced. “The Star-Spangled Banner” would be played soon. Brandon was lined up, cheering as the New England players entered the field, one by one. A young woman stood by Brandon; she looked college-age.

He wondered if she was a Sunshine Club alumna, too. He didn't ask her parents, though. He didn't want to be impolite.

He settled his cap lower on his head, sank into his seat—as uncomfortable as it was—and picked up the stubby pencil. His way of coping with the world had always been to buckle in and work, and that's what he was doing now. Shutting out everyone and everything but the game, the score sheet and the nice day.

Alone, among thirty-eight thousand people.

That's all he'd wanted when he'd come home. Peace. Maybe that's all he'd ever wanted.

* * *

A
SHLEY
FINISHED
HER
last client. She was getting better at her job, was starting to fit in better. One client had booked ahead with her for a five-week appointment, and that made her feel great. It was different working here, but it was giving her confidence that she was good enough. She knew it was crazy to feel insecure, but sometimes she couldn't help it.

“What are you doing tonight?” Kylie asked conversationally as Ashley cashed out her money for the day.

“I'm going to the Captains game,” Ashley admitted as she pocketed her envelope.

Kylie brightened. “That's fun. I love Captains games.”

Ashley just smiled. She'd rather skip it, given a choice. Captains games made her uneasy, in a lot of small ways.

The beer drinking. Her son on the field, getting so much attention and television exposure.

Early on, she'd been in constant panic that Brandon's father's family would see him, hear him, notice the resemblance. It was hard not to.

The older Brandon got, the more he looked like his father.

Ashley shivered. She'd never actually met his father's family, or even knew anything about them, and the opposite was true, as well—they didn't know about her or Brandon. She assumed they were local people. She'd barely known Brandon's father—but he had to have some family nearby. Didn't he?

It was her worst nightmare. She'd always been terrified that if they found out about her, they would think she was unfit and take Brandon away from her. She knew Brandon eventually needed to know about his father, and be given the chance to find his family, if he wanted to. But not now. Not while he was so young. She'd wanted to wait until he was older. He'd had so many health problems in his young life, she'd just wanted to be sure she could always protect him. She'd heard so many horror stories. She would never knowingly set up a scenario where she would be powerless to help him.

Except...Brandon had asked his aunt this summer if she knew who his father was. Was he a doctor, too? Lisbeth hadn't known—but she had told Ashley what her son had asked.

“He's deceased,” Ashley had told Brandon honestly. She'd been as honest with him as she could be.

But it was almost a certainty that someday he would push her to reveal more. She was lucky she'd gotten out of that conversation—that revelation—for as long as she had. She knew it. But what could she do?

Sighing, she headed downstairs and walked the half mile to the baseball stadium. She'd worn jeans with a pretty blouse and a light jacket—the day was sunny and warm, but in the shadows it could be a bit cool. As she got closer to the stadium, she could hear the roar of the crowd, and her heart plummeted.

But she'd promised Aidan. He was sitting alone in her seats. At the thought of his handsome face and the little center of happiness she felt when she was around him, she found she had a reason to keep walking.

She wouldn't mind sitting close to him. Rubbing shoulders a bit. The warmth of his body beside her.

The man at the entrance scanned her ticket and sent her on her way. She hurried past the beer stalls, the line of people watching the game from the food area.

From the top of the stairs, she glanced toward the two seats she was usually given whenever Brandon worked a game.

Aidan sat there, wearing a blue Captains cap. She smiled and felt an inner warmth at the sight of him.

He raised a beer cup to his lips and took a long swallow.

Just like that, she froze. Backed up.

And stepped on somebody's foot.

“Hey,” said the man behind her. “Watch it!”

She couldn't turn around and go back up the steps—there was a line of people behind her trying to get down.

She dug her nails into her palms and kept moving forward. The field, so green, was ahead of her.

She got to the end. A security agent nodded to her. “Ticket, please?”

She showed him her ticket, and he pointed her to the empty seat beside Aidan.

When Aidan saw her, he stood, smiling. She walked past him, brushing his chest. Felt the back of the hard metal chair at the back of her thighs and sat, shaking.

He took out a blue Captains cap and settled it on her head. “For you.”

She sucked in her breath. She was grateful he'd thought of her, but she was feeling overwhelmed at the moment and couldn't speak.

Aidan peered at her. “Are you okay, Ashley?”

She shook her head.

“What's wrong?” He put the back of his hand to her forehead. It felt cool and...nice. She leaned her head forward, into it.

A chuckle sounded from his throat. “You don't have a fever.”

“No,” she muttered.
Oh, what the hey.
She needed to tell him. “I'm an alcoholic,” she whispered, leaning closer to his ear. She didn't want it broadcasted. “It's kind of hard for me to come here sometimes.”

That was only part of the reason it was hard to come here, but it was all he needed to know for now.

He looked at her with grave eyes. “I'm sorry. I'll get rid of this.”

His half-full cup of beer was in a holder between their seats. He put the lid on it, then slid the cup under his seat.

“You don't have to do that,” she said.

“I would pour it out if I could, Ashley.”

“Really, I don't want to stop you from enjoying yourself.”

“I'm enjoying myself now that you're here.”

She smiled at him. He really was growing on her.

He put his arm around her chair, around her. Then he put his head close to hers. She had the sense that he would make sure that she was safe. That no one else would hear them.

“Do you go to meetings?” he asked in a low voice.