Chapter 21
twenty-one
“I knew I’d seen that key before.” Noah slammed the truck door and slung his duffel bag brimming with baseball gear over his shoulder. The sun, low in the sky, cast a warm glow over the community ball field—and Noah’s clenched jaw. “You found it?” Elisa tilted her face to the coming twilight, drawing a deep breath as she leaned one hip against her car door. The warmth of the evening did wonders to relax her tension. Before meeting Noah for the game, she’d spent the day at the Blossom, cooking for the lunch rush and giving the police her statement on Lucius. Now she wanted nothing more than to soak in a bit of Vitamin D and forget how the fate of the diner hung?—
He shoved a piece of paper in her hands.
She glanced down. The words on the card swam together and she blinked as realization dawned. Her breath hitched. “The next clue? You already got it?”
“The key was in Grandpa’s desk drawer. I knew I saw it that day you picked me up for the lighthouse.” Noah set his bag on the gravel and pocketed his keys. “I ran back up to the church this morning and Mr. Bolding let me in the baptistry area again. Sure enough, the clue was taped on the staircase railing.”
She jerked her head up.
He lifted one hand. “The only reason I didn’t call you was because I knew you were at the Blossom.”
Warmth spread through her chest. He thought she’d be mad at being left out. Before she could wonder if it was a good idea to do so in public, she stepped into a hug. “I’m not mad.”
His arms came around her immediately, embracing her with muscle and masculine soap and all things Noah. She spoke into the space where her mouth pressed against his neck. “That was a good call. I couldn’t have gotten away from the diner today, and I would have been stressing making us wait.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re not upset.” He pulled back a little, smiling down into her face. Tired lines creased his forehead. She knew the feeling.
His voice drew husky. “I missed you today, by the way.”
The admission warmed her more than the sun. “Same.” Guess he wasn’t worried about anyone seeing them—though they were partially hidden from the field by the cars.
Just in case, she stepped back a little and held up the paper. “I’m really proud of you, for the record. And you didn’t even have to sledgehammer your way through the wall.”
“I was considering that, if the key didn’t show up.” Then his flickering smile waned. “But did you read it yet? Because we have a new problem.”
She was so excited he’d found the clue on his own, she hadn’t even thought to. She looked back down at the scribbled writing.
How quickly Time passes
On tiny wings of Silence
Oh how it Waits
And oh how it Hopes
Cloudy as a silver lining.
She looked up and pursed her lips. “This is even harder.”
“Exactly.” Noah shouldered his bag again. “This whole hunt has felt like nothing but two steps forward, one step back.”
That last clue actually felt more like three steps back, but she didn’t see any point in raining on Noah’s already cloudy parade. She studied the words again. “It’s obviously not from the Longfellow poem. And this one doesn’t even seem to reference the poem like the others.”
“I thought the same.”
She read it through three more times, the words bouncing around her brain but refusing to land anywhere. “There’s some odd capitalization going on—maybe that’s something.”
“Like an acrostic?”
“Yeah. TSWH.” She tilted her head.
“Treasure Seekers Were Here?” He snorted.
“Maybe its directional? Like North, South, East West. So this could be… The South West…Hill? Haven?” She frowned. “I feel like we’re getting colder.”
“Maybe it stands for This Seriously Was Hard.”
Elisa elbowed him. “That Seriously Was Horrible.”
“Agreed.” Noah snapped a picture of the clue on his cell. “Let’s look at it again tonight when this is over.” He nodded toward the ball field. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Elisa shoved the card into her back pocket. The thrill of the hunt still lit something in her, but over the past twenty-four hours, it had felt more like a smolder than a spark. The clue deserved her full attention, yet one thing chafing the back of her mind was the fact that she’d had to cook again—which meant Delia wasn’t trying to find another replacement chef. Was Mama D feeling gun-shy after Lucius’s betrayal?
Or was she closer to selling than Elisa realized?
She tried to shove aside the wondering and fell into step beside Noah as they headed across the parking lot toward the bleachers peppered with pre-game fans. A handful of kids rushed past them clutching snow cones, and the scent of hot dogs hung heavy near the already-buzzing concession stand.
“The missing key worked out, and we’ve come this far. We’ll think of something.” She forced brightness into her words that she wasn’t feeling. One of them had to stay positive, though, and of the two of them, she was the most equipped at faking it.
“If anyone can figure it out, you can.” Noah navigated them past the row of concrete bathrooms and the announcer’s stand, where Mayor Landry was putting on a wireless mic. “I believe in you.”
No pressure. She smiled even as her stomach flipped. His pronoun choice was clear. You . Not us. She appreciated the vote of confidence, but she felt off her game lately.
And too much was riding on this deadline for her to be less than sharp.
Elisa stepped through the field gate Noah held open for her, glancing up as he stopped and adjusted the brim of his hat. His motions were jerky as his gaze flicked over the growing crowd.
He was definitely stressing over more than the final clue.
Elisa shifted her bag to her other arm. “Maybe a fun break will help us reset. Get the mental juices flowing again.” Across the field, Cade stood in the dugout with a clipboard while Linc took a few practice swings with a bat.
Noah didn’t seem to be in a hurry to join them as he slid on a pair of dark sunglasses. “Maybe.” A muscle in his jaw tensed as he looked over his shoulder to the dugout. Owen and his brother Sawyer had joined the players packed inside, along with Zoey, Pastor Dubois, and Trish. “Not too sure about the fun part. Like I tried telling Cade earlier—I haven’t played since I was a kid.”
“No one will judge you if you’re rusty.” Elisa nudged him with her elbow, hating the strain in his expression. “They’ll be too amazed at my skills in the outfield to notice, trust me.”
He didn’t smile like she’d hoped.
“Hey.” She frowned, catching his sleeve. “You okay?”
He lowered his glasses, looked at the filling bleachers, then positioned himself so his back was to the stands. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
“Not any more than me bragging about my fielding ability from fifteen years ago.”
That got a tiny smile from him. “It’s just…bad memories. I quit baseball right before—” He swallowed.
Elisa turned to face him, shading her eyes from the sun now shooting crimson and violet hues across the sky. “Before what?”
Several seconds passed. Then he slid the shades back on. “Before my dad quit on us.”
Ahh.
Elisa nibbled on her lower lip. There was so much she wanted to say, but he probably didn’t want a sermon—or a psychologist. Still, he needed truth. “You know…” She touched his arm. “…just because you stop doing something doesn’t mean you’re a quitter.”
“That’s not what I was told.”
She couldn’t read his eyes behind the glasses. “By who?”
“Teachers, my mom. Pretty much anyone who knew my dad.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest, spreading his feet wide. “I refuse to be like my father.”
“Your father?” Elisa reeled back. “You couldn’t be more different than him.”
“I’d like to think that.”
“Whether you believe me or not, you don’t have to play softball against your will.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Both of those things can be true, you know. You can have noble goals and not play a sport you don’t like.”
“I never said I didn’t like it.” Noah’s phone chimed from his pocket, and he pulled it free. He glanced down at the screen, then over at the dugout. “We’re being paged.”
Elisa followed his gaze across the field to where Cade waved the clipboard and pointed dramatically to the dugout, then his watch. “Better keep him happy. His dad is the mayor, you know.”
Finally, a full smile from Noah. Mission accomplished.
Elisa started to head toward the others when Noah touched her shoulder, halting her progress. “Hey.”
She turned to face him, glad he’d taken the glasses off again.
“Thanks.” His gaze, soft but serious, swept across her face, darting once to her lips before landing on her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He was going to be okay. She squeezed his hand. “Me too.”
Noah slid his glasses back on. “And not only because you’re allegedly a wonder in the outfield.”
“Oh, sugar, just you wait.” She winked at him as she pulled her glove from her bag and thickened her accent. “I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.”
* * *
Noah shouldn’t have worried about being rusty. But Elisa definitely should have.
So far she’d caught two of the fly balls that headed her way, dropped two others, and missed three entirely. But the crowd rallied, cheering every time she made another error. She’d finally stopped turning red and started bowing instead, causing even more uproar. They adored her.
He knew the feeling.
Noah bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as he led off from first base. They were only playing six innings, thanks to Cade’s common sense prevailing. “Come on, Trish!”
Bottom of the sixth now, they were down by two, and Trish was at bat. She was the only woman there playing in a micro tennis skirt, but she sure could run.
Cade buffed the ball on the sleeve of his shirt. “You know you only get three strikes, right?”
Trish smirked back at him. “Won’t need them.”
Cade wound the pitch and Trish hit an easy grounder past first base.
“Yes!” Noah hauled himself to second as Linc scooped up the ball in the outfield and threw it to Sawyer—but not before Trish pounded past the bag.
She tossed her flaming hair over her shoulder as she sidled back to take position on the base, winking at Sawyer. “Maybe you’ll get me next time.”
Oy . The woman never stopped, but at least it seemed like she’d given up on flirting with Noah. He turned his attention back to the mound, where Cade pitched the next underhanded ball to Zoey. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Cade had stacked his own team with Linc, Pastor Dubois, and Sawyer, while Noah was given Zoey, Trish, and Miley—who surprisingly made a mean shortstop. Cade’s lead would have been much higher if not for Miley’s defense.
Zoey struck out, leaving him stuck on second and Trish on first with one out.
Noah clapped his hands. “It’s all right, we’ll get it back.” Hopefully, or Cade would never let him live it down.
Anticipation pulsed in Noah’s veins, and he shifted his weight, wondering how far he could lead off to third before Cade noticed. The earthy scent of the field was like a long-forgotten cologne, the adrenaline rush a legal stimulant. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, mixing with the murmurs of the crowd and the echo from cheap static-filled speakers.
He’d missed this.
Elisa stepped up next to bat, pausing to tuck her hair behind her ears. Mama D hollered something encouraging from the stands that got lost in the wind. Elisa shot him a look, and Noah nodded his confidence in her. Good grief, but she was cute in her ripped jeans and T-shirt. He kind of wanted her to hit a homerun so he’d have an excuse to publicly scoop her up on his shoulders. That parking lot hug hadn’t been enough.
She wiggled one sneakered foot into the dirt for grip as the crowd began to drumroll-stomp their feet on the bleachers. Cade threw the pitch.
“Strike one!”
Noah led off another foot. Cade cast him a warning glance over his shoulder and Noah shuffled a few inches back toward second. Pastor Dubois, playing shortstop for Cade’s team, shook his head and grinned.
Maybe Elisa had been right. Maybe stopping something didn’t equate to quitting. Noah was here, wasn’t he? He didn’t have to look back on those days on the diamond with defeat. He could simply recognize how fun it was to play. Could choose to remember who had shown up for him all those games—Grandpa—rather than on who hadn’t. In fact, if Noah closed his eyes, he could almost still hear Grandpa’s husky voice rising above the others. “That’s my boy!”
He’d always had a home, even during those years he’d been gone from Magnolia Bay.
Maybe it really was time to make this place home again.
Crack .
He opened his eyes in time to see Elisa’s second pitch flying hard and fast toward right field. The crowd screamed. “Run!”
Noah let out a whoop and took off to third, sensing more than hearing Trish flying behind him. He slid into third, his knee scrubbing hard on the dirt as the ball whizzed past him—and kept going.
Owen, playing third baseman, had missed.
The crowd lost their minds. “Go, go, go!” Noah jumped to his feet. Even Farmer Branson stood, frantically waving a straw hat and hollering with the others.
Noah headed hard for home plate, glimpsing Elisa rushing to second from the corner of his eye. He slid again, already anticipating his need for some Tylenol, as the ball flew by and smacked soundly into the catcher’s glove.
“Safe!” Mayor Landry roared, the mic buzzing with feedback.
Noah half-limped toward the dugout, grinning despite the mild throb in his leg as Zoey slapped him a high five. He grabbed a Gatorade and tipped his hat to Cade on the mound, who pointed at him in warning. As he chugged a long sip, his gaze roamed the stands. Sitting behind Farmer Branson’s wide hat was Isaac Bergeron, eating popcorn near Sadie and Pastor Dubois’s wife.
Mental note—no scooping Elisa on his shoulders after all.
He turned his attention back to home plate. Miley was up next. Two strikes later, she hit one over the back fence that brought both Trish and Elisa home with her.
They’d won.
Mayor Landry shouted the final score over the speakers, and Mama D let out a piercing whistle between two fingers as the crowd bellowed. Noah rushed from the dugout toward Elisa, his knee a distant distraction as he hauled her into his arms. Forget Isaac in the stands. This was more important.
“We did it!” Elisa came eagerly into his embrace, lifting her feet off the ground as Noah tightened his grip around her waist and spun.
He didn’t want to put her down. “Nice moves out there.”
“Told ya.” She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, either, sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek. She must not be worried about her father seeing, either.
Though he probably shouldn’t push his luck. Noah reluctantly returned her feet to the ground, the impression of her lips lingering on his flushed skin. “You were right about a couple of things today.”
“Oh yeah? Can’t wait to hear.” Her eyes shone up at him, and his earlier feelings about home shifted up another notch in priority. Yeah. He was about to make some changes. He’d wasted enough time.
Heart light, Noah turned to receive the various high fives and fist bumps offered from the other players, laughing at Linc’s genuine scowl and Cade’s mock frown.
“Good job, Mr. I Haven’t Played in Forever.” Cade fist-bumped him. Somehow, the guy’s white T-shirt and faded jeans had stayed pristine, while dirt caked the length of Noah’s entire left leg.
“Not bad, huh?” Noah clapped Owen on the shoulder. “Like riding a bike.”
“That explains it, then.” Owen stumbled forward under Noah’s hand, grinning. “I fell a lot as a kid.”
The din subsided as those in the stands began shuffling off the bleachers. The players in the dugout gathered their gear and discussed which pizza joint to hit up next. Cade walked backwards next to Mayor Landry, who wore a patient expression. “Concession sales were hot tonight, Dad. We exceeded expectations by almost double.”
Elisa waited by the dugout entry as Noah threw his glove into his bag. He wanted to go for pizza with the others, but he also really wanted to take her somewhere alone. Not that he was dressed for it—and not that he could currently afford it—but images of a steakhouse and candlelit tabletops filled his thoughts.
But that was okay. If his new goal went as planned, they’d have plenty of time for that later.
Suddenly, a slow, rhythmic clap rose over the surrounding conversations, until the chattering around Noah stopped. He zipped his duffel bag and turned toward the sound.
A lone figure leaned against the field gate, still applauding. The man straightened when Noah met his gaze and strode toward the dugout, hands now shoved confidently into the pockets of his athletic jacket.
A sudden freeze washed over Noah, shooting ice into his fingers and toes. He blinked, but the image didn’t vanish.
The silver-haired man, roughly an inch shorter than Noah, stopped in front of him with a cocky grin. “Looks like I finally made it to one of your games.”
Dad.