Fools Rush in(75)

The winning run was on first. Joe on third. Two outs. My seventeen-year-old nephew was at bat.

A tense silence fell over the crowd. No more catcalls, no more joking. My heart began to thud. Katie pointed out Danny to the boys, and even they seemed to sense the gravity of the situation.

Danny took a practice swing and stepped up to the plate. The Sleet’s Hardware pitcher squinted ominously, nodded, and then wound up and threw the ball. Danny swung so hard he practically spun around.

“Hee-rike!” called the umpire. An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd. A couple of high-school girls clutched each other’s hands.

My dad stood up. “Take your time, son,” he said.

The second pitch. Another huge swing, another miss. Strike two. I swallowed hard. “Come on, baby,” I whispered. Katie patted my leg.

Danny stepped out of the batter’s box and tapped his cleats. He stretched his arms behind him and stepped back in. His shoulders were tense, his face expressionless. The pitcher shook his head at the catcher’s first signal, then nodded. My heart was pounding so hard I felt ill.

The pitch blazed in. Danny swung hard. Bam! The ball sailed into the rich blue sky, up, up, up. By the time it landed, Danny was rounding second and Katie’s brother was headed for home, and the outfielder hadn’t even gotten close to the ball yet. The crowd was screaming, my parents jumping up and down, the high-school girls shrieking. I stood stock-still, speechless with amazement as I watched Danny run to home plate and his cheering teammates. A grand slam. My nephew had just hit a grand slam.

I looked over at Sam, who was applauding into his glove. He glanced over at the stands, and our eyes locked. Then Danny emerged from the crowd of his teammates and loped over to his dad. Sam shook his hand and then hugged him. My eyes filled.

Joe appeared at my side as I watched father and son in their Field of Dreams moment. “Great game, wasn’t it, Millie?” he said.

I shook myself mentally. “Oh, it sure was,” I replied huskily.

“Are you coming to the Barnacle?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. It was tradition for the winning team to buy the losers drinks.

“I think I’ll help Katie put the boys to bed first,” I answered. Katie was busy packing up the boys’ Matchbox trucks and cars into her bag. “I’ll stop by later, okay?”

“Okay,” Joe answered, kissing my cheek. “I’ll see you there.” He gestured to Tripod, who leaped up and followed Joe to the parking lot.

Climbing down the bleachers, I went over to my nephew, who was talking animatedly with my parents.

“Aunt Millie! Wasn’t that awesome?”

“Oh, honey, it was fantastic! I was so proud of you, I just about peed my pants!”

The lad hugged me, making me feel very short. He was at least six feet tall now. Sam joined our little circle.

“You going to the Barnacle, Dad?” Danny asked, his eyes still shining.

“You bet,” Sam answered. “You owe me a Coke.”

“Hal!” my father yelled to our neighbor. “Did you see my grandson hit that ball?”

“Looking like Ortiz there, Danny!” Hal called back. My parents said their goodbyes, and Danny went off to join his teammates.

“I can’t believe it,” Sam said dreamily. “My son hit a grand slam and won the game.”

“That must have been the best moment of your life,” I said, giving him a squeeze.

“I think you’re right,” he answered. “And thanks for cheering for me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, big guy! I’ve always been your biggest fan.”

Sam laughed and slung his arm around my shoulders. “Remember how you used to come to my football games? You’d sit there, reading a book the whole time, then tell me what a good job I did.”

“I watched!” I protested. “Whenever you had the ball, I looked up.” It was true—I’d go to the games (attendance was pretty much required, as my sister was dating him and held the coveted position of head cheerleader), but I’d always felt a secret thrill as Sam dodged his way down the field or intercepted a pass.

Sam slapped at a mosquito. “Too bad Trish—” His smile dropped.

I studied his face. “You wish Trish were here?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, I guess I do. To see her son’s big moment.”

“Well, you can have Danny call her later on, right? Or even right now, before you get to the Barnacle.”

“Good idea, kiddo. Thanks.”

“You know, dopey, Carol’s waiting for you.”

Sam jumped. “Oh, right! God, I almost forgot. Okay, I’ll see you later, right?”

“Right-o, matey.”

I helped Katie gather the last of the boys’ paraphernalia and scooped Mikey up. He buried his sticky little face in my neck, and I kissed his silky hair. “Ready for bed, sleepyhead?” I asked.

“I’m not tired,” he yawned, closing his eyes.

As we walked across the field, I glanced over at Sam, who was still talking to Carol. Their laughter floated over to us. Then Sam leaned in and kissed Carol, not a huge kiss, but definitely not just friendly, either. My step faltered.

It was just strange, seeing Sam with somebody other than Trish, I told myself. Carol was nice and all, but it didn’t seem…normal. Natural. They began walking toward the parking lot. Sam caught my eye and lifted his hand. Carol turned and waved, too.