Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Brooke
I’m really glad Nate wasn’t at church this morning.
That’s a horrible thing for me to think. I want everyone to go to church, really. It’s just ironic that with so many Baptist churches in our county, he has to attend mine.
Well, his mom is a member there and he did go there growing up. So yes, it’s my personal problem.
“I think that one’s good, sweetie.” Mama steps beside me and takes the dish from my hand. The same Pyrex I’ve been scrubbing for so long that my hands are now wrinkled from the running water. She turns off the sink and starts drying the dish. “You seem stressed.”
I shake my head.
“You didn’t say much during lunch, and you didn’t eat much either.”
“I wasn’t that hungry.” Not totally true, since I could go for a snack about now.
“Does it bother you that Timothy is going to work with Nate today?”
I pause from rubbing my wrinkled hands together.
“Timothy told me,” she confesses.
I roll my eyes.
“What’s it going to hurt? He’s the best person to help him with ball. What’s more convenient than a pro baseball player we all know and love living at the end of the driveway?”
“Love?”
Mama touches my elbow gently. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She sighs. “Like.” Her voice is sarcastic and drawn out.
I smirk.
“Seriously, I think it’s good for him. Your daddy never played sports, and your brothers haven’t in ages.” She leans closer and whispers, “They weren’t the best either.”
She leans back against the counter and I laugh. “I guess you make a good point. I want Timothy to do well at anything he decides to do.”
She smiles. “And that’s why you’re a good mother.”
“I hope.” I turn my hands over and make fists. Their current condition is a good way to fight against touching Nate.
Timothy runs in, letting the screen door slam behind him. His breath is heavy when he stops.
“What have you been doing?” I ask.
“Conditioning.” He stretches one arm across his chest and twists.
“Excuse me?”
“You know, running. Getting ready to practice.” He does a few more random stretches, then opens the refrigerator.
I raise an eyebrow at Mama. She winks, and we both try not to laugh.
“I’m going to run home for the car.”
Timothy gives me a thumbs-up with a bottle of Gatorade sucked to his mouth.
We walked over for lunch after changing out of our church clothes. It would be easy to ride the four-wheeler, but I don’t want my hair knotted.
On second thought, I’d best check my overall appearance.
I go in the carriage house and hurry to the bathroom. My lipstick is gone and my foundation could use a touchup. I quickly redo everything but my eyes and pull my hair into a high ponytail. Then I take it back down. I wore a ponytail yesterday.
Groaning, I drop my head on the counter. It shouldn’t matter if I wear back-to-back ponytails. This isn’t Mean Girls .
Am I subconsciously hoping Nate will touch my hair?
I shudder and raise my head. Then I inspect my face once more to make sure I didn’t mess up my forehead.
Timothy is waiting on the front porch when I get to Mama’s house. He runs to the car before I can fully stop. “What took you so long?”
I frown. “Nothing?”
“Did you have to poop?”
“Timothy!”
“Well, did you?” He hops in and slams the door.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. You didn’t eat much at lunch.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
He buckles his seat belt, making me proud. I wasn’t going to insist since we’re maybe a mile at best from our destination, but it’s nice to know I taught him safety. I buckle mine too.
“You’re wearing lipstick.”
“As I do every day.”
“But you only put it on in the morning.”
I put the car in drive and stare ahead. I refuse to be interrogated by a second grader. He takes the hint and doesn’t say another word until we turn into Nate’s drive.
Timothy opens the door and jumps out with my brother’s old glove and a ball. That’s all we could find short notice, but I assured him Nate would have baseball stuff.
Nate comes from the backyard, smiling. “I was fighting off a nap. I thought y’all weren’t coming.”
“Mama had to put on makeup.” Timothy smirks at me.
“Um, I put on Chapstick.” Not a total lie, since my lipstick is tinted Chapstick.
“It looks nice,” Nate comments.
My cheeks heat up and I turn my head.
“Let’s get started.” He claps his hands together, bringing me back to attention.
We follow him down the slope to the backyard, past several blackberry bushes. An old metal building comes into view when we get to the clearing. He leads us to it and lifts the rolling door effortlessly.
My mouth drops as I scan a room of baseball equipment, complete with a pitching machine and batting cage. In addition to that is free weights, an exercise bike, and a TV.
“Wow.”
“Jonah had the house in great shape, but this was an old shop. I slowly had it renovated after buying.”
“Who did it?”
“A moving company brought my own equipment, and Jonah helped with facilitating it all. He knew a really nice guy who turfed the church soccer field and Evalene Mayberry’s carport.”
I lift my chin, curious as to how Jonah had a hand in this and I didn’t hear about it. His wife and business partner, Carolina, isn’t exactly Fort Knox when it comes to keeping things hush.
Metal clanks, and I crane my neck. Timothy’s head pops up behind a counter.
“Timothy, stop snooping, son.”
“Sorry, Mama. He has a kitchen too.”
I turn to Nate. “Really?”
“A mini fridge full of sweet tea and Mountain Dew, plus a microwave.” He shrugs. “The previous owner had a wet bar, so I decided to leave it partially intact.”
I laugh.
“The sink has come in handy when I need to clean my balls.”
I choke and cough loudly. He means baseballs.
“Want some water?”
I nod. He goes toward Timothy and returns with a bottle of water. A new bottle, without his germs.
I chug it like I’m stuck in the Sahara.
“Better?” Nate asks.
The bottle is half empty when I lower it and nod.
“Good. Make yourself at home. I’ll get Timothy started.”
He leaves my side, and I survey the area. There’s a well-worn couch near the TV. I sit on it and turn so I can watch where he’s taking Timothy.
They start at a wall filled with bats. Timothy’s face lights up when Nate pulls down several smaller ones for him to try. Not that I would recognize any of them, but I’m sure they’re Nate’s from over the years.
His mom never had a lot of money, but she spared no expense when it came to helping supply him with baseball equipment. He might not have had the flashiest or newest supplies, but he always had what he needed. Even when she didn’t.
I always admired and respected her sacrifices for him. Little did I know I’d one day be a single mom to a son.
They settle on a bat and go to the cage. Nate adjusts a tee and sits on a bucket nearby. He explains some things to Timothy, then stands and helps him position the bat.
Out of nowhere, my eyes start to water. I stand and exit through the smaller door on the opposite end of the building. It’s all I can take seeing them together like father and son.
All the whys and ifs that plagued me for years hit me like a head-on collision. If I had to put myself through a CT scan right now, I’d find plenty of internal damage.
* * *
Nate
Maybe it’s because I’m not used to younger kids, but Timothy is impressive to have never played ball.
He has great hand-eye coordination and picks up on everything I teach him quickly. His form is already good, and he’s showing a lot of potential.
I need to find Brooke. I bet she’d like to see how well he’s doing.
“Hey, you want to show your mom what you learned?”
He nods enthusiastically.
I stand from sitting on a bucket and scan the shop. There’s no sign of Brooke, and I don’t hear anyone.
“Let’s find her.” I lift the batting cage net, and Timothy follows me outside. The sun is lowering and it’s cooling down.
“You think she ran home to cook dinner or something?”
Timothy shakes his head. “Mama never leaves me for too long, especially not with a stranger.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
He wavers his head. “Technically, no, but how well do we really know you?”
I laugh. He’s a sharp kid, and funny.
“Your mom and I actually go way back.”
“Didn’t you grow up here?”
“I did. And we used to go—” I clamp my mouth shut and clear my throat. “To school together.”
He smiles. “What was Mama like back then?”
“Nice, fun, beautiful.”
He smiles wider. “She’s still nice and beautiful, but I don’t know about the fun.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she worries a lot.”
I speed up toward the front of the house, relieved to find Brooke sitting in her car. If I keep talking, Timothy might figure out pretty quickly we were more than classmates.
He sees her at the same time and runs toward the car. I follow him, matching my steps to his with my long legs.
“Mama!” He opens her door.
She jumps and catches her breath.
“Were you going to leave me?”
Brooke shakes her head and starts to cry. She pulls him in her lap and hugs him close. “Never. You know better than that.”
He pulls back, and I take a step away.
“You know I would tell you if I went somewhere, even to the house for a minute.” She glances at me, then back at him. “But if I did go, you can trust Mr. Nate. He’s a good man and not a stranger.”
Timothy nods his head, then smiles up at me.
Now I want to cry.
“Uh, he’s looking good in there. I thought you might want to see.”
“Thanks.” She smiles and dabs at her eyes. “I just needed some air.”
“Then why did you get in the car with the windows up?” Timothy asks.
Brooke climbs out and sighs. I pull Timothy to the side so she can shut the door.
I’ve never been a parent, but I totally get needing some time alone. Before and after games, when my shoulder flares up, and many times right after our breakup.
The three of us walk in silence downhill toward the shop. I notice our shadows side by side. A weird emotion creeps up.
If I had to describe it, I’d say jealousy mixed with regret.
What if I had fought for Brooke when she broke up with me? Drove to see her instead of just calling and texting all the time?
I might could be her husband and Timothy’s dad.
Even worse, what if I’d left when I’d planned on it the last day I was with her? I’d surprised her at college and stayed the night in her dorm. Nothing happened—that night.
It was the next afternoon when I should’ve already been back in Atlanta. Instead, I’d lingered around because she didn’t want me to leave.
She’d wanted everything as badly as me.
However, being the guy, I should’ve backed down. That’s on me. Nothing was the same after that day, and our relationship lasted only another month.
It was the last time I saw her in person until she was hanging on the fence in her bathrobe.
We enter shaded territory, and I’m no longer haunted by our shadows in perfect sync. I shake off the idea that this could be my family as soon as my feet cross the threshold of my personal training facility.
Brooke and Timothy are here for one reason. Baseball. Nothing more, nothing less.
I offered to help him, and they took me up on it. He’s doing a great job, and I want to see him succeed, as I would any young kid with a passion for the game.
“Come on, Timothy.” I lift the net for him and bend under it. Brooke stares at me from the other side like she’s done hundreds of times before when I played. She remembers it too. I can tell by her eyes.
I give her a half smile before forcing my focus on Timothy and the batting tee.
The. ONLY. Reason. I’m. With. Them.
Focus .
“All right, King of Swing, you ready?”
“King of Swing?” Timothy laughs.
“Yeah, every good baller needs a nickname.”
He laughs and so does Brooke. The air lightens a little and I can feel the tension leaving me slowly. I put a ball on the tee and resume my spot on the bucket.
Then I make a silent pact with myself to stay there. No getting close to Brooke in any way. No more wondering if there’s a dad in Timothy’s life. Even though I suspect whoever his dad is, he has at least some natural athletic ability.
I’ll be the bucket man and nothing else, even if it kills me.