Chapter 17
17
God doesn’t make mistakes.
Ashli Montgomery
A pple pie out of the oven? Check .
Steaks ready for the grill? Check.
Salad tossed and chilling in the fridge? Check.
Pan-fried veggies over low heat in the skillet? Check.
Kitchen table set for two? Check.
Candles lit? Check.
Teddy consulted the list Maree left for him for the twentieth time. His nerves rattled like a pair of maracas. Beads of sweat popped onto his forehead when her truck rumbled into the garage.
He met her there to help with the empty bins and containers she’d brought home from the festival. He smiled when she paused at the table, studied the vegetables cooking on the range, and returned her gaze to Teddy with a questioning eye.
After they’d unloaded everything, Baylin turned from Teddy and toward the stairs up to her room.
He clutched her wrist before she got away. With a gentle tug, he spun her to face him, just inches away.
“Hi,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart beating in his chest louder than a thundering herd.
“Hello,” she said. The cautious note in her voice stung, but Teddy forged on.
“I was wondering if you’d like to eat? Here…tonight?” He stumbled, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Please, will you have dinner with me?”
Baylin glanced to the kitchen, then into Teddy’s eyes, and moistened her lips, and gave a slight nod. A thread of hope fluttered through his body.
“Give me just a minute,” she said, still hesitant, but that was okay.
She’d agreed to spend time with him. Check .
When Baylin came down the stairs ten minutes later wearing leggings, an oversized flannel shirt, and big wool socks, Teddy was waiting at the bottom with a bouquet.
“Thank you. These are some of my favorites,” she said, holding the flowers close to smell their sweet fragrance.
“Anemones and roses… You talked about them the other day…when we were working in the garden together.”
“They’re lovely,” she said with her first smile, tiny though it was. “Did you get them from the greenhouse?”
“Yes. But full confession,” Teddy said, raising his hands in surrender. “Maree Davenport did everything else. And if anything is less than perfect, it’s my fault for not successfully following her directions to complete the final touches.”
Then Baylin smiled for real. The thread of hope surged into something much more substantial.
“You have great friends,” he said. “Nosy and pushy, but great.”
Baylin agreed with a song-like laugh. The world looked better and better by the minute.
Teddy smoothed a wave of hair from her face. “You’re stunning,” he said, taking her hand before she could respond and leading her down the hallway and into the kitchen. “I need to put these steaks on the grill. Maree left strict instructions: five minutes on the first side; flip for three more. I’ll be back. Please don’t go anywhere.”
When he returned exactly eight minutes later, soft music played from the kitchen radio, Baylin had poured two glasses of red wine, and she stood at the sink, looking out toward the barn. Teddy set the steaks on a cool burner, pulled the salad from the fridge, and stirred the vegetable hash for good measure.
“I think we’re ready,” he said. Baylin turned away from the window to give Teddy her attention. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered, drying her cheek with his thumb. “I never meant to hurt you. I should’ve made sure you knew what I do, and what that level of publicity means. Honestly, I convinced myself you already knew, giving myself a pass for not telling you straight. It was selfish... I just really enjoyed being plain old me for a few days.”
“There’s nothing plain or old about you,” Baylin said with a small smile and a beautiful blush. “It was a misunderstanding. I’m sorry I made such a big deal about it.”
“I’m not.” Teddy spoke before Baylin could shrug off the significance. If she didn’t care about him more than a little, then she wouldn’t have been upset.
“You’re glad I flew off the handle, reprimanded your new pals, and gave you a very immature cold shoulder for the past twenty-four hours?”
“I am,” Teddy said, with a slight cocky smile. He placed a hand on either side of her waist, pulling her closer. “It means I matter to you. And it brought us here…”
Baylin moistened her lips again. And like when she’d done it earlier, Teddy had to rein in the desire he felt for her. There was no doubt of their chemistry; they had it in spades.
Their night was about more.
“To dinner,” he said, grinning down at her. “Let’s eat.”
He’d chosen the small kitchen table over the stately dining room table to keep things cozy. He served dinner buffet-style, so the only things between their plates were their wine glasses, two candlesticks, and the salt and pepper shakers…leaving plenty of room to hold hands.
“Do you mind if I bless the food?” Baylin asked before they began eating.
“I’d like that,” Teddy answered.
“Dear Lord,” she began, bowing her head and closing her eyes. “You don’t make mistakes. You brought Teddy to the farm, opened my heart to his staying here, and made me accept his help this week. My life is better and richer for it. Thank you for that. Please guide us, guard us, and keep us safe…wherever we may go. Amen.”
“Amen,” Teddy echoed.
“Faith was sometimes all we had when I was a kid,” Teddy said, cutting into his steak. The only way forward — together — was to share his past, a past he didn’t talk about often. Not because he was ashamed or because it was tragic, but because it made people feel sorry for him, and he didn’t need nor want pity.
The dinner and all the help from Baylin’s friends were terrific, but telling his story was the grand gesture. He’d decided it last night, staring at the ceiling in the barn apartment, thinking of Baylin in the wee hours of the night. Letting her in was all he could give, and Teddy was determined to give Baylin — and their future — his all.
W hile they ate, Teddy described the slums where he grew up, on the wrong side of the tracks in a small town outside Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He told her about his parents, who loved him the best they could, but worked way too much for far too little and had little left for a rambunctious son.
Baylin seemed to enjoy his tales of playing street ball with the neighborhood kids every possible moment of the day, and even in the night when they found a park or field with lights. And she laughed outright when he imitated how he’d pronounced his name as a little boy, “Ted G’win, as in, Ted gonna win it all!”
He pointed out good things, too, careful not to paint a one-sided picture of a latchkey kid living a depressing existence on the poor side of town, even if that was most accurate.
“Baseball was your ticket out,” Baylin said.
“And I never looked back.”
“What about your family?”
“They’re good…better, at least. My first Major League contract got them out of debt and into decent housing. They’re proud; it’s a struggle to get them to take what I’d like for them to have. But they let me help support the boys, my two younger brothers.” Teddy smiled, thinking of the two hellions.
“Do they play baseball, too?”
“Oh, yeah. Dad loves baseball. We’re all named for legends of the game. He had us catching a ball by the time we could run, so I guess we never had a choice. But even if we would’ve had one, we’d have played. Our bats and gloves might’ve been cheap and second-hand, but we didn’t care.”
“Are your brothers as good at baseball as you?”
“Promise not to tell?”
“My lips are sealed,” she pledged with a zipped-lip gesture.
“I think they’re even better.”
“Where do they play now?”
“They’re a lot younger than I am; Lou is sixteen, and Mickey’s only twelve.”
“Because of your success, poverty hasn’t shaped them in the same way it affected you.”
Teddy shrugged; he was no saint or savior.
“Do you see them?”
“Not as much as I should. They come to a few games during the summers, and I try to make a few of theirs around my schedule. I could do a much better job of getting back to visit.”
“What makes it difficult to go?”
“I want to fix everything for Mom and Dad. I could if they’d let me.” He’d had the argument with his parents enough times to hear it play out in his mind, so even telling Baylin about it brought his frustrations to the forefront. “If they’d just choose to be happy, attempt to enjoy life. A new approach can do wonders.”
“That explains your unceasing determination to be cheerful.”
Was that a compliment or an insult?
Teddy examined Baylin’s expression, looking for signs of derision. He couldn’t find any.
Still, her insightfulness made him uncomfortable.
He stood from the table, cleared their empty plates, and refilled their wineglasses.
They worked in quiet tandem to put away the leftover food and load their plates and silverware into the dishwasher. He rolled up his sleeves to wash the pots and pans, and Baylin dried them.
When they’d finished cleaning up from dinner, Baylin led the way to the parlor.
Teddy followed her, carrying their drinks, the apple pie Maree had made, two plates, and two forks, which he arranged on the coffee table. Then he added wood to the fireplace and lit a fire.
Baylin settled on the couch, patting the cushion beside her for him to sit there.
Such a small gesture, yet it caused his heart to skip a beat. Perhaps his grand gesture would work…he prayed it would draw her nearer rather than push her away.
“My happiness isn’t fake,” he explained. “I love my life. It’s not as easy as the television makes it seem; I have to work on my game, my speed in the outfield, and my hitting all the time. Otherwise, I’ll lose my spot to one of the hundred — more like thousands — of guys who’d love a shot at it.”
“That’s why you’ve been working out in the barn.”
His head snapped up to meet her gaze. He’d been running the stairs, from the lower level of the barn to his condo and back down for forty-five minutes, pushing tractor tires across the open space, and logging five hundred sit-ups and one hundred pull-ups before they started farm chores each morning. He hadn’t realized she knew.
“I came in to feed the horses Monday and saw you,” she said.
“Did you now?” Teddy questioned, enjoying the way her cheeks burned at her memory of him shirtless in her barn. “Do tell.”
“Yes, well… I didn’t want to disturb you, so I immediately walked out.”
“Sure, you did,” he teased, tickling her as he gave her a hard time.
“I did!” She protested around her giggles. Then she tried tickling him back, which turned into wrestling on the couch. And since Teddy was bigger and stronger, the wrestling ended up with Baylin pinned and panting underneath him, eyes glossy and glistening with laughter, and Teddy way too close to losing control.
He tickled her ribs one last time to make her squirm, and then Teddy lifted himself off Baylin and went to tend the fire…the one burning just fine of its own accord.
Fine, Lord. Call me a coward. I’m a coward. I admit it…a weak, falling in love, goofy old fool.
“Is this week the longest you’ve gone without practicing?” Baylin asked. “Minus the game last night, which I’m guessing wasn’t much of a practice for you.” Her smarty-pants expression said it all. Busted.
“Nah, I guess it wasn’t,” he admitted. “But that guy got in my head… I wanted to beat him so bad that my nerves went a little wild.”
“Who? Michael?”
“That’s the one. I hated seeing him flirt with you on the field. I just lost it…saw red, the whole enchilada.”
He’d sat back down on the couch next to where Baylin sat facing him, criss-cross style. Teddy glanced at her, embarrassed by his behavior the night before.
She shook her head and laughed before putting his worries to rest.
“I told you: I’ve known Michael —and his entire family — my whole life. He’s just a friend. That’s all he’s ever been, and that’s all he’ll ever be.”
Teddy nodded, accepting Baylin at her word.
“It was quite entertaining to see your Bruce Banner slash Incredible Hulk transformation,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
“I can’t believe I let him get to me,” Teddy groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I mean, that’s why I choose joy… I choose to live in the moment because it keeps the wolves at bay.”
“On that we can agree,” Baylin said, unfolding her legs and moving forward on the cushion to reach the apple pie. She sliced it, putting a quarter of the pie on his plate and a smaller sliver on her own. Then she scooted to rest her back against the arm of the couch, still facing Teddy. He did the same on the opposite end.
“Growing up, I’d always planned on going to college for a business degree. I wanted to own my own flower shop back here in Green Hills someday. I had travel journals lined out for all the places I’d go first, though…so I could bring back the inspiration of the most magnificent flowers in the world. Everything crumbled my senior year. Just a few days before graduation, my grandpa died. He had an accident on the farm, doing a task he’d done a million or more times. In the aftermath of his sudden death, we realized my grandma’s struggles with memory loss were much more than mere forgetfulness. With Papa Joe gone, she declined faster than we could have imagined. By the end of that summer, we moved her into Memorial Care, the memory care facility in town. Being at home had turned unsafe for her. Taking her there broke my heart.”
“Is she still living?” Teddy asked, taking a napkin from under the pie plate and handing it to Baylin for her tears.
“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “She didn’t make it a full year after that.” She sniffled, dried her cheeks, and squared her shoulders, fortifying her brave front. “My parents had no interest in staying here; they’d never loved the farm or Green Hills the way Papa Joe did, the way I do. They wanted to sell the farm, pay off the debts, and put the rest of the funds in an account for my college expenses.”
“That sounds reasonable, so you could pursue your own life and dreams.”
“It does, and that was their argument. But I just couldn’t do it… I couldn’t walk away from our family’s legacy, the place I love more than any other on earth. I convinced them to let me try my hand at running the farm. We agreed to a five-year deal. At the end of the five years, I’ll have paid them for their share of the farm.”
“When does the lease expire?”
“August thirty-first…on my twenty-fifth birthday.”
“And that’s why finances are so tight around here? Because you’re paying off the lease in just five years?”
She nodded yes, taking a bite of her dessert.
“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Teddy said, impressed.
“Things have been tight,” she admitted before taking a sip of her wine. “But it’s been good for me. I had to be diligent, watch every penny, and weigh every decision.”
“Since I’m paying five hundred dollars a night to sleep with the horses, I’d say you’ve taught yourself well.”
She grinned at his ribbing.
“College helped; I had no clue how little I knew when I assumed responsibility for the farm. And I’ve had guidance and support from friends in the community.”
“Did you take classes online?”
“Yes, some friends from high school went to Tarleton State University in Texas, on rodeo scholarships. They told me all about the school before we graduated, so I knew it was an exceptional school for agriculture. I’d planned on Southern Methodist University in Dallas, where my mom and dad met, but I needed to switch degrees to Ag Business rather than Entrepreneurship. Tarleton offered the program I needed in a remote learning format and a late admissions process, so I wouldn’t have to sit out a year. I started on time that fall and graduated with my Bachelor of Science in Agribusiness four years later.”
“That’s an incredible journey,” Teddy said, even more impressed.
“Yeah, not the journey I envisioned in the beginning, but one I’ve loved.”
“Where were you planning to travel? To see the flowers?”
“Oh, wow! Let’s see…” A dreamy look drifted across Baylin’s face. “The Chelsea Flower Show, for sure. The lavender fields in Provence, France. I’d have toured galleries to see Monet’s Water Lilies, van Gogh’s sunflowers, and Georgia O’Keefe’s signature flowers. And those would’ve been a drop in the bucket of what was on my list.”
“You and those lists,” he teased. “Will you still go?”
“Maybe,” she answered, her expression one of mixed emotions. “I’d still like to have that flower shop in town someday; between weddings, funerals, holidays, and special events, Green Hills needs another one to keep up with demand. But the farm comes first, and I’m happy keeping my focus on it.”
She set her empty dessert plate on the table, swallowed the last sip of her wine, and pulled a quilt from a stack folded under the coffee table. Teddy carried the pie, their dishes, and the wine glasses to the kitchen. He stopped by the restroom, added one more log to the fire, and rejoined Baylin on the couch.
Instead of leaning against the arm, she curled up in the center.
“You can take off your shoes, ya know?”
The small nicety felt like a big invitation.
And when he got situated next to her, she fluffed the quilt to cover them both.
“Hang on,” Teddy said, leaning forward to take off the heavy sweater he’d worn all day.
“Another baseball shirt?” she teased when she saw the tee he wore under the sweater.
“When I got to college, the school gave us clothes. Lots of clothes! And not just baseball clothes, but extra shoes, joggers, shorts, t-shirts, sweatshirts, socks…even underwear. It was amazing. It’s all I wore. I mean, why spend money if I didn’t have to, right?”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Louisiana State.”
“LSU Tigers,” she said. “Didn’t you tire of wearing purple and gold every moment of every day?”
“Nope. Best of all, when I got to the minors, I got a whole new wardrobe.”
Teddy told Baylin about being drafted by the Braves in the 2017 Major League Baseball Draft, pick number 457. He walked her through his minor league career, describing each mascot so she’d know which t-shirt went with which team. He shared his elation at being called up to the big league in 2019, and he even mentioned the record he set for most stolen bases by a rookie.
They talked for hours. She never mentioned him going to the barn. Teddy never asked.
He noticed well past midnight that Baylin had drifted off to sleep leaning against him.
Teddy shifted her in his arms, imprinting the feeling of her snuggled in his embrace on his memory so he would remember it forever. His breathing fell into sync with hers, and eventually, he joined her in sleep.
T he sun, bright through the large parlor windows, woke Teddy first.
Their fire died during the night, but wrapped in one another’s arms under the blanket, they stayed cozy and warm. He had, however, lost feeling in one arm.
He adjusted her weight to be more fully on his chest so the blood would return to his fingers and hand. The jostling woke her…the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do.
“Good morning,” she whispered, rubbing her face against his chest like a kitten burrowing for comfort.
“Good morning,” he said through a smile he couldn’t contain.
“Sorry I fell asleep on you?—”
“I’m not,” he interjected.
“I believe we were up to 1957, when Porsche stopped making your car.”
“Boxy,” he reminded her.
“Believe me, I could never forget…named that because all ninety of the Porsche 550 models ever made achieved unprecedented success on the racing circuit, where Formula One racers hear or call box when they need to return home.”
“And because…” Teddy prompted.
“You’re highly successful in the batter’s box.”
“You were listening,” he praised, squeezing her tight until she giggled.
“I was listening,” she affirmed, snuggling even closer. “All seventy-five times you’ve told me.”
Teddy moved his hand over her ribs, threatening to tickle her for exaggerating so dramatically, but he switched gears instead.
“Wanna take a ride in Boxy?” he asked.
“Me?”
“I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people in this room, on this couch, and under this quilt.”
She giggled again.
“You mentioned having faith last night,” she said instead of answering. “Would you go to church with me this morning?”
“Absolutely.”
“Afterward, I need to run by the booth, make sure the kids will take it all down when the festival ends this afternoon.”
“Sounds good.”
“So maybe we could go for a ride together after that?”
“Perfect!”