Chapter 9
Lukas
TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD
“Knock knock,” I call out, rapping my knuckles against Nana’s kitchen door. “Anyone home?”
“In here,” her frail voice replies. Clicking the door shut behind me, I kick off my boots, propping them up on her colorful woven rug so the snow doesn’t drip onto her tile.
With stocking feet, I pad through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room, turning the corner just as the applause sounds from the television in front of her.
“How’s my favorite girl?” I ask, reaching a hand out to squeeze her shoulder.
“Could be the owner of new kitchen appliances if I was on the show instead of this ninny.” She gestures to the television with a frail hand. “She said an entire set of kitchen appliances costs less than a thousand dollars. What world is she in?”
I smirk, taking a seat across from her on the couch, the plastic covering creaking under my weight. “Maybe it’s her technique, closest without going over, you know?”
She nods at that, pointing the remote toward the TV to mute it, then turns to me. “So, how are you holding up?”
“Doing just fine, keeping busy.”
It’s the answer I give automatically these days, whether I mean it or not.
I should know Nana sees right through it. She has that same gift that Mags does to get me to say what I really feel. I don’t even need to turn back to face her to see her eyes glaring at me over her bifocals.
I scrub a hand over the side of my face, feeling my beard bristle against my palm.
“I’m bored, Nana,” I whisper. “Restless. All I do is hang out at the farm. Wake up before dawn, feed the animals, dinner with my family, rinse and repeat. The highlight of my week is hanging out with you on Wednesday nights.”
She playfully scoffs. “You could do a lot worse.”
I chuckle at that. “Yes, ma’am.”
I busy myself by picking at a loose thread in the knee of my jeans. “Working on the farm is a fine job. I figured I’d end up doing it someday. I think … well, I just thought I’d live a little before those days came.”
It’s been close to two years since my baseball career died. My surgery was clean. They sewed me together brand new, I was told. “Range of motion is 100%, mobility intact,” the physical therapist said. What they didn’t say is I’m only as good as new to be a regular functioning citizen.
I learned the hard way I’ll never be as good as I once was. I'll be able to toss a baseball for my kid someday, no problem, but the days of one hundred and one mile an hour fastballs are over. I got the final writing on the contract release in the mail the other day.
“You know how I feel about you son, Coach said. I’d love to keep you on the roster and see if we can get you back in tip-top shape for next season, but unfortunately, it isn’t my call.”
Within three days of that call, my contract was sold out from under me, and the release arrived in the mail, stating they were cutting all ties.
I’m technically a free agent, but the last thing a team wants is some no-name rookie who’s been out of the game for nearly eight months.
Pitched one game in the Triple-As, but never made it to the Majors.
Nothing but a few local newspaper articles and a scar to show for it.
When I tear my gaze from the hole in my jeans, I look up to see Nana staring back at me.
“I wanted more for Magnolia. More to offer for our future.” The words burn my throat as I say them.
The plan was always for Mags and me to move back to Copper Ridge someday.
Ten or so years in the future when we were worn out and retired.
I planned to work on the farm as a hobby, relying on the income from professional ball to pay for everything else.
“Did Magnolia say you’ve disappointed her?”
I furrow my brow at that. “No. Mags would never say that.”
“I know,” she says softly. “After all, she takes after her Nana.”
I look up at that, and she winks at me.
“All I’m saying is that you should give yourself time. Of course, you feel restless, bored. You’re finding a new pathway in life. Anyone in your position would be pissed off, Lukas.”
I cock a brow at her cursing, and she rolls her eyes at me. “I’m seventy-eight years old, I could run circles around you, son.” I bark out a laugh at that, and once it fades, she’s back to staring at me. “It’s okay to admit you’re mad. No one will fault you for that.”
I soak in her words, nodding slowly. She’s right, I know that. But I’ve never been the type who liked waiting for life to happen. Baseball found me at a young age, and once I realized I had a chance, I ran toward that dream with all I had.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my Edward.” She nods to the framed picture of her late husband up on the wall.
Their wedding photo sits in the center, surrounded by frames of various shapes and sizes of the life they created together.
The wedding photo was always Magnolia’s favorite.
Nana is dressed in some lacy collared gown, and her grandpa is in his military dress blues.
“Stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be, but a good man underneath it all.”
I’m about to interrupt her, to tease her for picking on me, but she holds up a hand to halt me.
“He had a lot of pride, too much, at times. He was motivated by it, which meant he did everything he could to provide for us, to defend his country. Too much pride, however, can make us self-destruct. He was always so hard on himself; always holding himself to a level that no one else held him to.”
I remember the day Magnolia’s grandpa passed away.
He had cancer, and we all knew it was coming eventually, but didn’t know it would happen so fast. Maybe it’s the pride that Nana talks about, because up until the last day I saw him, he looked strong.
Held himself strong. He never asked for help, rarely took it if it was offered.
If we didn’t know about the diagnosis, we would have never known something was wrong.
As a teenager, I admired that about him. I wanted to be like that, to be able to hold it all in even when I was crumbling, to stay strong for my family, but I can see Nana’s point of it all.
“You feel weak right now, but that’s okay,” she says softly. “You will find your way, Lukas. You will still find a way to support yourself and Magnolia, to be happy. Don’t let your pride leave you feeling inadequate.”
She reaches for her cup of coffee that has likely run cold by now, bringing it to her lips for a sip. Once the liquid passes her lips, she grimaces, setting it back down. “The least you could do is get an old lady a fresh cup of coffee.”
I smile at that, rising from the couch and sauntering over to her. I reach for the cold cup from her hand, but before I pull it away, I lean over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nana.”