Until There Was You(37)

And she always struck out. Never popped up, never grounded out. Nope, she went down swinging, which had a certain élan to it. She’d been hit three times, which had been thrilling, since it got her on base, even if it did leave a bruise. But she’d never scored a run, never driven in a run, never hit so much as a foul ball. It was something of a town legend.

Now, in the bottom of the second, she was up, facing José Rivera, the pitcher for Stubby’s Hardware and rumored to be third cousins with half of Major League Baseball.

Brianna and James were here tonight—Kate was first baseman for Guten Tag, an excellent one at that. Both kids were a little on the fringe of high school, and Posey was glad they were hanging out more, even if Brie pretended not to like James. Shilo was there, too, lying on his back in front of the kids, waiting for them to notice his giant belly, always ready for a scratch. When they failed to comply, he let out the occasional groan until finally, James rubbed the dog’s cow-like belly with his foot, earning Shilo’s croon of approval.

Posey stepped into the batter’s box. Her teammates all stood up and started clapping, their way of supporting the cause.

“Eye on the ball, Posey!” called Reverend Jerry. At the sound of his owner’s name, Shilo sat up and woofed.

“Swing away, Merrill!” This in unison from Jon and Kate, both fans of the movie Signs.

“History about to happen, Posey, hon!” Bruce Schmottlach, their oldest player at seventy-eight, had a batting average of .402. But he was a bit of a freak of nature in general.

Posey took a deep breath, dug her cleats into the earth and waited. She could do it. Even a foul ball would be a triumph. José let fly and she swung with all her might. Strike one. She’d been a little late, that was all. She’d swing earlier this time. She did. Strike two.

“Hang in there, honey!” Stacia called. One more pitch. She swung. “Strike three!” called the ump, and that was that.

“That was pathetic,” Brianna called. “Points for trying, though!”

“You’ll get it next time, honey!” Stacia called.

“Thanks, Mom.” Posey trotted back to the dugout, got on her catcher’s gear, and went back to home plate.

As the batter for Stubby’s came up, her face blazed with heat.

It was Liam. She hadn’t seen him since the Night of Drunken Sloppiness.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she answered, grateful for her face mask. “Didn’t know you were playing.”

“Mike Owens asked me to join. Hi. Liam Murphy.” He shook hands with Lou, the home plate umpire.

“Nice to meet you,” Lou said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Being catcher meant that Posey was eye level with Liam’s groin. Granted, she was squatting and garbed in padding, but the whole thing felt very sexual nonetheless. Then again, she guessed that she could watch Liam get an appendectomy and find it hot. Which was just pathetic.

“How good are you, Liam?” she asked as Liam took a practice swing. Oh, crap, that sounded really dirty. “At baseball, I mean?”

“Not bad.”

“Go, Liam! Knock it out of the park!” The women on Stubby’s were all leaning out of the dugout, and was it her imagination or was there more cle**age than usual being shown tonight?

Reverend Jerry, who was pitching for Guten Tag tonight and imagined himself quite a talent, glared down from the pitcher’s mound. “Prepare to feel the power of God’s wrath,” he said and fired off a pitch. Liam swung, and kablammy, it was gone.

“Not bad indeed,” Posey said. Liam grinned and set off around the bases.

He clobbered a triple in the fourth and a double in the eighth, driving in six runs altogether, and Stubby’s won, as they usually did. Liam’s teammates—especially the women—swarmed around him, and there was much patting of his back and stroking of his arms, much hair tossing and laughing.

“Gotta run. James and I have a yoga class,” Kate said, trading her cleats for Nikes. “Want me to bring Brianna home? It’s on the way.”

“Brie?” Posey asked. “What do you think?”

Brianna gave James a long, contemptuous look, then smiled. “Sure.” James flushed. Posey gave Brianna a hug, reminded her of their movie date on Sunday (another Twilight, but at least there’d be popcorn), and slung her bag over her shoulder, then stowed Shilo in the truck with a promise of a Whopper on the way home.

“I feel like we never see each other anymore,” Jon said as they walked over to Rosebud’s to buy Stubby’s a round.

“We had lunch together yesterday,” she said.

“True, true. How’s business? You get Vivian to sign yet?”

“Business is good,” she said. A young couple with uncommonly good taste had come this morning and bought four stained-glass windows, a carved mantel for their fireplace, and a concrete lion, which she and Mac would deliver tomorrow on the flatbed. “But no, Viv hasn’t signed.”

“A shame to have that place torn down.”

“Tell me about it. Is my brother meeting us here?” Posey opened the door to the bar, and the noise of the crowd and the spicy smell of buffalo wings enveloped them in a warm embrace.

“He sure is. There he is now, fighting off Rose.” Rose had tried to turn Henry straight in high school, and Henry was perversely fond of her, smiling as she flirted outrageously. Gretchen was there, too.