7. Chapter Seven #2
“My brother appreciates loyalty. I’ll leave this with Mr. Peterson and send a copy to your agent.
In the meantime, here’s a card you can use for expenses.
” She hands me the card, the second I’ve received in a few days.
I can’t help wondering why everyone is being so kind to me.
Because I’m good at baseball? I’m worth something to the team? I make them money?
My thoughts drift back to Evalina, how hard she must work to ensure her son is well cared for, and the mess I made for her. Has anyone ever slid a limitless credit card her way? Surely not.
“Mr. Keaton?” Mr. Peterson’s arched, wiry brow indicates I missed a question somewhere. “Is that agreeable to you?”
“I’m sorry, I missed the question.”
“I was saying I see no need for you to waste your time dropping in every few days. I can call you when I have updates, if you prefer?”
“Oh, yeah, that works. Thank you.” My brain scrambles.
How did life turn out like this in a matter of a few days?
Me, a stinking rich kid made richer by my athlete status, suddenly taking handouts from people?
My thoughts, again, drift toward Evalina’s struggles, but not for long before Eleanor stands.
“We should head to practice and speak with Coach Fuller.”
Pushing out from the desk, I groan. “Yeah, let’s get that fun over with. Incidentally, I have practice in the morning. Will you be attending those with me as well?”
“I’ll be everywhere you go but home. With the exception of your trip to meet Miss Renn this morning, of course.” Eleanor’s sweet smile is truly anything but sweet, but at least there will be someone around to keep me in check and in line for the foreseeable future.
It strikes me that Mr. Peterson didn’t ask anything about Eleanor, which probably means he already knew her. Which, of course, he had to for her to know I had a meeting with him. How does everyone else know my schedule before I do?
I ponder this along with Evalina’s situation all the way to the little league practice field where the Tadpoles learn all of the skills necessary to play baseball.
Of course, most of them play for the fun of the game, but some have real talent and could play longer term, well into high school and college, if they wanted to.
Some even pro. But the goal has always been to show kids how much fun the game is, how important sportsmanship is, and to respect teammates and other people.
Eleanor drives us there in silence, allowing me to process my entire life.
Could my father be everything they say he is?
Has he been a liar and a thief all this time?
No, I truly do not think so. Frustrating as he can be, my father could never do the things they claim.
Not the man who got me into baseball—though he did live to regret that one.
Not the guy who attended charity functions like they were his job.
Not Dad, who always put his family image first, no matter what.
He set high expectations, wanted things for me that weren’t my dream, but he was always fair and upright.
But he’s not here now. And neither is Mom. If not for Spencer, this would be impossible. I try to remember the last time I spoke with my father and realize it’s been almost half a year.
“Here we are. Do you need a moment?” Eleanor unbuckles and pauses with her hand on the door.
“I’m good. Let’s get this over with.”
Pushing out the door, I wait for her to join me before heading to Coach Fuller’s little office.
He’s paid a salary to run the team and the field operations so he can focus on the kids.
Thankfully, his pay cannot be impacted, thanks to it being a charitable organization under an entirely different company.
Mr. Peterson was right on with that suggestion.
Keeping the Tadpoles their own entity was the wisest thing he’s told me to do.
“Ah, Koa.” Fuller drops his clipboard and shakes my hand. “Glad to see you. I wanted to let you know I’ve been fielding questions from parents the past few days.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I rock back on my shoes and sigh. “I’m sure. I want to assure you that the Tadpoles are safe. Your pay won’t be impacted, and I’m happy to step back from the organization so that it—”
“What? No, that’s not—Koa, you didn’t let me finish.
” Fuller chuckles and crosses his arms. “They want to know if you’ll develop a second team.
Our roster is full, and they want their kids learning from us.
No one thinks you had anything to do with your father’s dealings, Koa.
We know you around here. We’d never think that. ”
Eleanor smiles and touches my elbow. “See, it’s not all bad. This is a good thing. It means your community supports you.”
“Who…who are you again?” Fuller asks, scratching his head.
“Sorry, this is Eleanor Dawson, sister of the team owners, and for the time being, my personal image consultant…apparently.”
“Got it. You make the bad news go away.” Fuller tugs his hat and gives his attention back to me.
“Long story short, I wanted to put the bug in your ear that the community would like you to consider another team, that’s all.
We know you’re going to be tied up for a bit, so we don’t expect an answer soon.
Still, it would do a lot of good for a lot of kids. ”
Hope blooms in my tightened chest. I swipe my blond hair from my face, which is beginning to stick to my forehead in the Georgia heat and humidity, and take a deep, relaxing breath. I still have this. At the end of everything, I still have Katie and Spencer and baseball, just like I always have.
“I’ll see what I can do. Pray this ends soon, Fuller. I’d love nothing more than to open a second team and really show kids what baseball is all about.”
“Well, I might have something to take your mind off your troubles. There’s a kid, Dustin, who shows real potential, but he hesitates.
He’s afraid of something. I can’t pin it down.
” Fuller whistles and shakes his head. “Boy, I’ll tell you, if that kid ever finds his confidence and really swings, that ball is out of the park.
Kid’s got skill he hasn’t even found yet. ”
Excitement loosens my chest further. Finally, something to focus on besides my crummy luck. “Are his parents asking for more help? I’d love a one-on-one with the kid, see what he’s got and how I can help him.”
“Actually, yes. His mother asked for more personal coaching. She’s willing to pay, but I told her I thought I knew someone who would probably love to do it for free. I hope that’s okay?”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’ve got nothing else this afternoon. I could stay, watch the practice, maybe get a feel for his strengths, then meet with his parents after.”
“Just mom, but I think that works. The other parents won’t mind you here if you want to watch from the stands.”
Judging by how miserable Eleanor already seems, I opt for the more comfortable option. “Actually, I think I want to keep the focus on the kids. I’ll watch from your office and take notes.”
“Perfect. You won’t regret helping this kid. I promise.” Coach Fuller smacks my back and heads out to greet parents and kids already arriving after school.
Eleanor stands beside me, looking out over the field. “This is a cool thing you made. And I say this as a fan, not just an image coordinator, but I think your community is going to forget about this way faster than you are. Ease up on yourself. It’s going to work out.”
All I can do is pray she’s right, because baseball is the only thing that has ever meant anything to me—outside of my family, of course—and I’m not sure what I would do with my life if it were taken away.