Chapter Thirty-Three
Beckett
They say baseball is the great American pastime.
And I get it. Because honestly, it feels like an eternity has passed since Cash and I took our seats in Fenway Park to watch today’s Sunday matinee Red Sox game.
At first, I leaned into the excitement of it all. On my way into the stadium, I bought a baseball cap with a large red B on the front—for Boston, not Beckett—and a keyring boasting a pair of socks. Once we got inside, there were hordes of screaming fans and huge foam fingers and foot-long hot dogs—all of which I photographed and relayed to the McCarthy Clan group chat, to Callan’s delight (“Lethal!”).
But honestly, after three and a half hours sitting in a plastic bucket chair in the splitting sunshine, the initial high has worn off. My arms are as red as the B on my new hat, and my backside is so numb that I don’t think I’m going to be able to stand up when this is finally over.
Cash, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. He’s sitting forward keenly, elbows propped on his knees and his eyes shrewd under his ball cap. A ball cap which does not bear a B, like mine, because apparently, the Red Sox are a big rival of the pro team he used to play for.
As Cash watches, he’s relaying all kinds of statistics that may as well be recited in Mandarin for all I’m comprehending.
Apparently, it’s the ninth (or possibly ninetieth) inning, and there’s a lot on the line for the person who’s about to try to hit the ball with his bat.
He hits it, the stadium erupts in cheers, and I stumble a little numbly to my feet to join in with all the clapping.
Down on the field, the red-shirted players cheer and slap each other on the back in an apparent show of congratulations. I can only assume that they’re all so excited because the game is over.
Finally.
As he claps, Cash leans towards me. “So, what did you think? You enjoy it?”
I give him the biggest smile my lying self can muster. “Yes.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Becks.”
“I enjoyed the first… hour or two?” I amend, my expression remorseful.
He laughs. “That’s fair. It’s a long game in the first place, never mind if you don’t know the rules.”
“To be honest, it’s not all the game’s fault.”
Tonight is my spot at Lucky 13 Studios. I’ll be recording my song— Keeley’s song —for Ezra and Keeley, herself.
I’m both nervous and excited about it all. I haven’t performed any of my original music live in any capacity since Gran’s passing—thought I never again would. But here we are… plus I’m still riding the high of our incredible date on the fire escape the other night—and every night we’ve spent kissing and cuddling on the fire escape since—and I am insanely glad she wants to be by my side when I do this.
I can only hope she likes the song I wrote for her. I finished it this week, and I really poured my heart into it. Which was a cathartic experience I’m immensely grateful for.
Cash nudges my arm. “Excited to get home to Keeley?”
“Yup,” I respond, unabashed. “But I’m glad I came with you, for the experience. Thanks again.”
“Anytime, man.” We start making our way towards the exit. “So, what sports do you have in Ireland if baseball isn’t a thing?”
“Gaelic football, rugby, and hurling, mainly.”
“Hurling?” Cash cocks his head.
“It involves big sticks. Hard balls flying in the air.” I grin. “Helmets are necessary if you still want to be in possession of all of your teeth by the end of the game.”
This makes my new friend chuckle as he slaps me on the back jovially. “Ah, forget baseball, in that case—we have to take you to see a hockey game. I’ll get us tickets for the Bruins. I think that’ll be way more up your alley. ”
“Sounds great,” I tell him. My only ice hockey knowledge is from watching Mighty Ducks as a child, but it’s enough to make me want to go to a game.
“Perfect. Their season starts in late October, but we could go to a preseason game in September.”
I screw my nose up. “Unfortunately, I’ll be gone by then.”
Cash looks as genuinely disappointed as I feel. “I keep forgetting that you’re leaving after the summer.”
Wish I could say the same.
It’s feeling all too real that I’m leaving soon, especially as, earlier today, I got an email from the school where I work with some information about policy changes for the upcoming term. Boring stuff I don’t even want to think about.
Work has seemed so far away this summer, and I’m happy to keep it that way until I’m back in Ireland and actually have to face it.
Which is a little ostrich-y, I’ll admit. But they’re known to be nice birds, right?
Bit dim. But nice.
“Sure am… but I’m not ready to leave yet,” I find myself saying.
The admission surprises me—I’m usually so good at keeping how I feel bottled up. I guess I’m still getting used to the dam Keeley’s cracked open in me, just spilling things when I least expect.
It’s funny—when I arrived in Serendipity Springs, my only focus was on finding out more about my Gran’s time here. I saw it as a way to feel closer to her, and I think I convinced myself I’d somehow feel differently about her passing if I knew more about her story—about exactly what brought her here and why she left.
But as time has gone on and Keeley and I have put some of Noeleen and Douglas’s love story together, I realize I no longer need those answers. While it would have been nice to know what happened to break them apart—and why she left Serendipity Springs and never once talked about it—I’m no longer disappointed that we never found out.
Because what I have found this summer is about so much more than just Gran.
I’ve learned about myself. Learned about why I’ve been the way I’ve been for the last couple of years. Numb. Aimless. Throwing myself into a job that doesn’t inspire me, closing my creative channels that provoked all of my emotions. I thought that if I didn’t feel anything, I could be a pillar of strength for my family to lean on, but in that process, I ended up shutting myself off from moving forward in my life. Shutting myself off from my own happiness.
Now, I’ve opened myself up to my feelings—to happiness—again. And it’s Keeley I have to thank for it.
Because I also realize that there’s something else I’ve opened myself up to: love.
“Serendipity Springs has a habit of doing that to people,” Cash says, raising his shoulder in a shrug like he’s totally unsurprised to hear that I’m not ready to go.
“What do you mean?”
“When I first moved to town, I thought I would be there temporarily.”
“And then you met Nori?” I guess.
“Yes. Nori made me want to change my goals, my plans. And in the process of changing those, I changed. My life became something different than it had been before, or how I envisioned it being.” Cash looks at me again with that shrewd gaze of his. “And I became a better man for it.”
“I’m happy for you guys,” I tell him.
“You know, Nori says that, lately, Keeley is happier than she’s ever seen her.”
“Really?” I ask, unable to hide my stupid smile.
Cash nods. “She and Andrew weren’t a great match.”
I think back to my surprising conversation with Keeley’s ex last week—how he owned his past faults and seemed to credit Lisa with helping him work through it. Like being with the right person, the right match for him, made him a better person. Just like Cash said being with Nori made him change for the better.
“Yeah, I think she’s better off without him,” I agree.
“Or, just throwing something crazy out there.” His expression turns playful. “Maybe she’s better off with you , you doofus.”
His words feel like wind in my sails, inflating parts of me that felt flat and lifeless for way too long.
For so long after Roisin left me, I told myself that it was because I was a bad partner. That I wasn’t cut out to be with someone.
And while some of that is absolutely true—I wasn’t there for her emotionally when I should have been—that doesn’t mean I can’t change. That I can’t be good with, or for, someone else.
The reason I thought I made a terrible boyfriend was because I was closed off emotionally, but Keeley cracks open all of my deepest, darkest emotions without even trying. By just being her.
She makes me believe in better.
Believe I can be better.
Maybe it wasn’t so much that I was unfit for love, but that real love simply hadn’t found me yet. And what I feel for Keeley is undeniably real love.
It’s a startling realization that should have been simple.
What’s for you won’t pass you.
Maybe the flipside is: what’s not for you will just… pass.
Fate will have its way with you either way.
“Earth to Becks!” Cash waves a tan hand in front of my face, smirking. “Lost you for a moment.”
I blink. “Sorry, did you say something?”
His smirk gets impossibly smirkier. “I asked what time you’re meeting Keeley tonight, but you were too busy daydreaming about her to hear me.”
This makes me laugh. “Busted,” I admit readily. “And… seven.”
He grins as we walk out of Fenway Park. “Well, then, let’s hustle to get you home to your woman. And me to mine, of course.”
As we walk onto the street, I look up to see no less than three magpies sitting together atop a lamppost.
Three for a girl.
And there’s one girl I really want to see right now.
A girl who’s changed my life in so many ways.
I turn away from the magpies with a smile and give Cash my salute. “Lead the way.”