Single (Stockton Beavers #1) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Roberta

"Bobbie Jo, it's two a.m. What are you doing down here?" Luke asks when he finds me in the kitchen.

It was late when he got home, and I pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk about David when my mind was all jumbled up and confused. So I snuck down here to write in my journal, which is what I've been trying to do for the last two and a half hours. My body's on high alert like I just downed three espressos. Usually, I'm able to collect my thoughts on paper, but tonight, even that's not working for me. I'm still wired, tense, anxious. I've scribbled everything out because nothing I've written makes sense.

I take in his messy hair and the wrinkled state of his tee and wonder why the heck I'm down here when I could be upstairs with his strong arms wrapped around me. I don't have an answer to that, and I need to keep writing until I do.

He ambles toward me, barefoot. "Come to bed."

"I can't, not yet."

"Bobbie Jo…" He reaches behind me to massage my shoulders, and I quickly shut the cover of my journal. "He's not coming back, not tonight, not ever."

But that's not what I'm afraid of. I stare straight ahead at the picture of Luke's father on the wall. When Luke showed me his statue on the square, he joked about having to grow up as the son of Mr. Beaver and what it would be like when he had kids of his own someday. After he said that, I was torn. Should I tell him or shouldn't I tell him? I was so conflicted I didn't even let him kiss me that night, despite how much I wanted him to.

He breaks in to my thoughts, stepping around to the other side of the table, getting me to look at him. "I didn't even know you were down here until my phone went off. My crazy manager felt the need to text me that I've been chosen as one of the Kings' September call-ups."

His good news gives my spirits a much-needed lift. "Oh, Luke. That's wonderful!"

I'm halfway out of my chair to give him a hug when he says, "Thanks, but I'm not taking the spot."

"What?" I ask, slumping back into my seat.

"It's an honor and all, but there's no way I'm leaving you and Mom."

"Luke…" I groan. "It's only for a few weeks, a month at most. We'll be fine."

"But what if it's not?" he asks. "What if I make the playoff roster and the Kings go all the way to the World Series? Then we're talking more like eight weeks instead of four. And that's not even taking next season into account. There's no way I can uproot Mom and move to New York. It's just not possible."

I clasp his hand. "That's why you have to tell Landry. He can help you. I know he can."

"No." He slips his hand out of mine. "Roberta, you know how I feel about this."

"But this is too big of an opportunity for you to pass up. You can't turn it down, Luke. I won't let you."

"But it's not just about Mom." He pins me with his gaze. "I don't wanna be away from
you
."

My heart beats strong and true in response because I feel exactly the same way. I don't want to be separated from him either. This life we've carved out for ourselves here in Stockton has become my whole world. But he's making a monumental decision without having all the facts.

I fidget, playing with the cap on top of my pen. "This thing with David…you think it's over, but it's not."

He shifts his head to the side. "What? Of course, it is. The ball shattered his hand. Even with surgery, he won't be able to hurt you ever again, I swear."

I hold my head in my hands. "But Luke, you don't know…" I moan. "David always wins. In fact, he's already won."

Luke laughs, breaking into a big grin. "You're letting your mind run away with you. I know you've been running scared for a long time now, but you don't have to be afraid anymore. Trust me. Things will look a whole lot brighter after a good night's sleep."

He offers me his hand, but I don't take it. "Tell me, Luke. What do you
really
want? Do you even know?"

He kneels down beside me, taking the pen out of my hand. "Yes," he whispers, his eyes changing from an intense amber golden brown to that tender shade of green I love. "I want
you
."

I have to just drop it on him. It's the only way I'll find out the truth.

"Even if I'm not able to have children?"

He falls into a stunned silence, and I have my answer. Pushing back my chair, I head to the window, putting some distance between us. As I peer out into the backyard, the outline of the miniature baseball diamond is visible in the moonlight. It's the one Luke's dad made for him, the one he no doubt wants to share with his own children someday, the children I won't be able to give him.

When he finally does speak, his question strikes hard and it strikes deep. "It's because of him, isn't it? Because of what he did to you?"

I have no reason to be scared anymore. David no longer poses an immediate threat to us. He can't hurt me. He can't hurt Luke—only I'm capable of doing that now. But it doesn't mean Luke's wrong. Taking a cleansing breath, I release the sigh that's pent up inside me. "Yes, David had something to do with it."

When Luke slams his fist down on the table, I jump. "I should've broken his other hand when I had the chance!"

But when he sinks down into my empty chair, the energy fueling his tough-guy bravado quickly fades. Luke's not a violent man. He's not like David. Out on the field tonight, I saw how guilty he felt for what he did to him. Even though it was a freak accident, he doesn't take joy in anyone's suffering. That's not who he is. And that's why I love him. And that's why, no matter how painful it is for me to say, he deserves to know the truth.

But the flicker of hope that's burning inside of him is slow to die. "But what if there's a doctor, a specialist somewhere, who can help you?"

And it hurts to have to extinguish it.

"Luke, there's something you should know. After I left David, I had a series of…what I guess you would call…rebound relationships. I was just in a bad place where I bounced from guy to guy because I was so mixed up inside. I was working for Arnold Heimlich at the time, and I started sleeping around with…some of the Kings."

He ducks his head, rubbing his hand across his jaw when it starts to hit home that some of the rumors about me are actually true.

"But I didn't fall in love with any of them. To me, they were more like flings than anything else. So no one was more surprised than I was when…" I trail off in order to gather myself. "When I ended up getting pregnant again."

The hand he was running over his goatee falls to the table.

"But you have to understand," I plead. "It was the wake-up call I needed. Even if I didn't care about myself, I had no choice but to pull my life together for the sake of the baby. It was my chance to start over. I pinned all my hopes on it."

"Who was the father?"

"Jake Woodbury."

Hearing that, his face remains blank. And now, this is where things get hard. I could just leave it there. I don't have to go on. And if it were anyone else, I probably would shut down and close myself off, hide from him what I don't want him to know—but I can't with Luke. He let me all the way in, and he deserves the same from me.

I lower my head. "But very early on, I suffered a miscarriage." I take a moment, digging deep to find the strength to go on. "The mental anguish I went through after that was the darkest period of my life. I know it sounds crazy, but in my head, I kept hearing David telling me:
it's your fault, Bobbie Jo, it's always your fault
. And I believed that voice inside my head because I had no one to tell me otherwise. Luke, you have no idea how much I wanted that baby after what happened with David… And when I lost it, it hurt…
it hurt so much
. I was experiencing a great deal of physical pain too, but the heartache hurt more. Aware of my medical history, my doctor was worried and he put me through a series of tests.

What he found out wasn't good. There was a lot of residual scarring in and around my uterus from the emergency C-section I had after what David did to me. I didn't even know because when I woke up in the hospital, all I was told was that's the way they chose to handle the stillbirth." I pause, my voice starting to tremble. "So when I got pregnant again…and eventually miscarried…" I stop, reliving it all over again in my mind. "The tests revealed that the placenta wasn't able to fully dislodge the way it was supposed to. A part of it was still attached to the uterine wall, to the scar tissue, with a very real danger of hemorrhaging." I take a deep breath. "I had no choice. I had to have a hysterectomy…so that's what I did. I didn't even think twice about it. I guess at that point I was ready to do just about anything to make the pain go away, regardless of what it would cost me."

Luke's brow furrows like he's not exactly sure what I'm trying to tell him, and it kills me to have to explain it to him.

A sob rises up in my throat. "Luke, don't you see? I can't give you the children you want. I can't give you a family. What I had done can't be undone." The tears start flowing in earnest now, and I can't hold them back. "It's just, at the time, I convinced myself that I was okay with it because I never thought I'd meet someone like you. I gave up on life, on ever falling in love again, on ever being happy again." I take a shaky breath. "And now, I'm half a woman…with nothing left to offer you."

"Don't say that," he cries, getting up and reaching for me. "You're everything I could
ever
want and more. Don't you know that?"

I shy away from him, not allowing him to pull me into the warmth of his embrace. "And do you really think I could be happy, knowing that you threw away your future on account of me? Luke, I refuse to hold you back. I want you to have everything you've ever dreamed of because you deserve it. That's why I want you to tell your manager yes. You owe it to yourself, your mom…
your dad
…to go and play in New York." I sigh deeply. "If you don't, I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself." Hugging my arms to my chest, I slowly back my way out of the kitchen.

"Roberta…" he whispers.

But with silent tears streaming down my face, I keep going. Once I get inside my room, I lock the door before throwing myself down onto the bed, tugging the sheets around me that are still warm from his body.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Luke

When you get to be around twelve or thirteen, don't even think about shaping your own eyebrows. Come to me and I will take you to have them done by a professional. The hair you pluck today, you'll be wishing you had back when you're older.

When life gets overwhelming, never lash out at those around you. Drive around. Crank up the music. Go for a walk. Words said in bitterness tend to leave a permanent mark. They're always the ones you wish you could take back.

Happiness isn't one big concrete thing that once you find it, you'll have it forever. It's more of a collection of fleeting, yet perfect, moments. Eating ice cream under the stars on a summer night. Tramping through leaves on a crisp, autumn day. Catching a snowflake on your tongue and laughing when you do. Fame, success, money, power—none of them will give you what you need—that pure, uncomplicated sense of bliss—that allows you to be able to live with yourself and forgive yourself for the choices you've made
.

I put down Roberta's journal. I stayed up all night reading it. When she walked out of the kitchen, I didn't know what to do, what to think, what to say. Then my eyes fell on the blue and green butterflies floating across the cover, and I just had to find out what was inside. She thought by telling me she couldn't have children that I wouldn't want her anymore, but I can honestly say, after reading all of her warm, funny, heartfelt entries to the daughter she'll never have, I want her now more than ever.

Her strength, her insight, her compassion—
her soul
—came pouring out onto these pages, and it tears me up to hear her call herself half a woman. She's a survivor, enduring the kind of hardship that would've broken the spirit of many. Yet here she is, still holding on, refusing to let go of that goodness inside of her.

The doorbell rings, and Mom's wail immediately reaches every corner of the house. I raise my eyes to the ceiling as her panicked footsteps start pitter-pattering frantically overhead. I don't know who's at my door at seven o'clock in the morning, but it's probably someone I don't want her to encounter. I can only hope Roberta stops her before she makes it downstairs.

The race is on as I sprint out of the kitchen. But when I catch a glimpse of who's standing on the porch, I groan. And my heart sinks even further when Mom comes bustling down the steps, making a beeline straight toward me.

"Lukey! What's going on? Did your father forget his keys again?" she asks all in one breath.

Her eyes are overly bright, signaling to me her brain is scrambling to make sense of things. Her cognition is never good first thing in the morning. Add in being startled out of a sound sleep, and I know there's no chance of hiding her condition. There couldn't be a worse time to invite this person in.

I cradle Mom's face in both hands. "Ma, listen to me. It's not Dad… It's one of his friends."

"His friend…?" she whispers. "He doesn't have any friends."

"Yes, he does." Even in the midst of impending disaster, she gets me to smile in spite of myself. "You like this man. You told me so yourself."

She scrunches up her nose. "I don't like men. They're loud and messy and…"

"You like me well enough, don't ya?"

Grasping my wrists, she lowers my hands from her face. "You're not a man, Lukey. You're my baby boy."

I close my eyes, her remark affecting me on a much deeper level after learning what Roberta told me last night. "I know," I whisper. "Why don't you go upstairs and find Roberta? Can you do that for me?"

"Who…? No, I wanna stay with you."

But I don't have much time to contemplate where Roberta is right now and why she's not down here. "All right, just let me do all the talking, okay?"

She nods. "Okay, Lukey."

My fingers dance over the keys of the security panel as I punch in the code. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to him if things go south, but here goes nothing.

Yet as soon as I open the door, Mom says in a hushed voice, "Wow… Would you look at that? There's a cowboy standing on our front porch! Where did he come from?"

Landry glances from her to me with a sadness in his eyes I've never seen before. "So…it's true, then?"

And just when I thought I'd escaped my nightmare, that terrible sensation of being buried alive at the bottom of that deep, dark well overwhelms me.

My mouth goes dry, yet somehow I manage to utter, "You know?"

"Your girlfriend told me."

"Bobbie Jo?"

His eyebrows shoot up, way above the rim of his hat. "Nah, I was talkin' 'bout your auction date—Heidi."

I bump my head against the doorframe and Mom sneaks past me. "Where's your horse? Did you leave him in the backyard?"

He sticks his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and just stares at her for a moment. "Well, shucks, Carla. I'm really sorry you don't remember me."

"Am I supposed to?" She scratches her head. "Who are you—the Lone Ranger or the Marlboro Man?"

He doffs his hat and holds it over his heart. "It's Mike, Carla…Mike Landry. We had so many good times together, you and your husband, me and my wife."

"Where is your wife?" she asks, looking around.

Landry crumples his hat against his chest. "She…she died, Carla."

"Oh, yeah? I think my husband left me for another woman," she replies matter-of-factly. "He's never home anymore. I don't know where he goes."

He lays his hand on her shoulder. "Your husband's a good man, one of the best I ever met." He winks at me. "And his son ain't too bad either."

"Landry! What are you doing here?" Roberta asks breathlessly. She stands in the doorway, amazed, still in the clothes she was in the night before. Her hair hasn't been combed. She has dark circles under her eyes. She's a mess. I'm a mess. Mom's a mess. From his perspective, this must look really, really bad.

"I came to have a heart-to-heart with your new boyfriend here. Mind if I come in?" He steps in between us, his boots jangling as he walks. "Carla, the house looks great, just the same as I remember. It really is like comin' home again. I only wish I made time at the beginnin' of the season to come and see ya."

Mom follows him in, and I exchange a worried glance with Roberta. "Is he just making small talk or does he really disapprove of—?"

"Of course, he disapproves of us," she groans.

"Yeah, but Heidi tipped him off, told him something was wrong with Mom. That's why he's here. To investigate. To see if it's true." I sigh. "And I'm afraid it didn't take him long to figure it out."

She rests her hand on her lower back, trying to piece it together. "His daughter just went back to school, and with his son away at college, he'd never just up and leave her."

"Well, he's here, isn't he?" I close the door and my mind jumps ahead, running through all the possible scenarios of what his showing up on my doorstep implies. Is he here to take Mom away from me, or is there some other reason behind his surprise visit?

"Single, why don't you take a seat?" he commands, his deep baritone resonating with authority.

My hackles immediately go up. Where does he get off, ordering me around in my own home? Reluctantly, I prop my hip on the armrest of the couch, half complying with his request. "It sounds like you're about to deliver some pretty bad news."

"I'm afraid that I am." He grimaces. "That's why I came to tell you in person. Did old Rex happen to contact you last night?"

I lean forward. "Yeah, about the September call-ups. Why?"

Roberta jumps in. "He's going to New York, Landry. We've already discussed it. I've got everything under control here."

"Yeah," he drawls. "Carla's burns healed up real nice, Bobbie Jo."

And it's like he's the one putting the cover on the well now, blocking out even the tiniest speck of light. Right now, I'm about ready to do whatever it takes to get him to back off. "Landry, we shouldn't have lied to you," I blurt out. "But Bobbie Jo's not to blame. It was my idea to keep quiet about Mom's Alzheimer's, not hers."

He broods as he painstakingly rolls up the sleeves of his plaid shirt, showing off the pitching arm that made him a household name. He's a guy who holds a lot of power over the direction of my life. How he decides to wield it will affect not just me, but the other two people sitting in this room.

In his eyes, I'll always be a kid. He first met me when I was playing with my Tonka trucks under the kitchen table. To him, I'll always have junior attached to the end of my name. He considers Mom to be one of his dear friends. If he feels like I'm in over my head, he's not going to rest until he eases his conscience about her living situation. But Roberta, he trusts. She's the only one who can sway him to my side.

He kicks back his heels and studies me. "So…if you were to play in New York, Bobbie Jo's just supposed to live in Stockton with your mama…indefinitely?"

I don't hesitate. I come right out and say what he needs to hear from me. "I don't want to play in New York."

"You don't?"

"Luke, shhhh." Roberta glares at me. "Landry, don't listen to him. Of course, he wants to play in New York."

"No…" I reiterate, making it as plain as can be. "I don't."

The corner of Landry's mouth twitches as he sits forward, swinging his hat between his knees. "Is that how you really feel, son?"

"It is."

Roberta sighs, shaking her head. "He's only saying that because he's afraid."

"Afraid?" Landry chuckles at her while shooting me a sideways glance. "I didn't tell anybody I was comin' to Stockton. But I made it a point to fly in 'cause I wanted to be here in case Nichols tried anything. Though, I needn't have worried. Your boyfriend slew Goliath—literally. If that didn't prove he has the biggest pair of balls of anyone I know, I don't know what does." He turns back to her. "So tell me what's he so afraid of, Bobbie Jo?"

"You!" She throws up her hands.

He looks at me in disbelief. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" she huffs. "Of you, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Landry, I know you mean well, but you can't go around dictating how other people should live their lives. Luke doesn't want to put his mom in a nursing home. And until the time comes when he absolutely has to, I support him one hundred percent."

My eyes flash to her agitated profile. When exactly was she going to tell me this? She never mentioned that one day her assistance might not be enough.

Landry, thoroughly chagrined, crosses his arms and says nothing.

"And another thing," Roberta goes on. "So what if Luke and I are dating? It shouldn't matter to you. You're not my boss anymore."

"Yeah, but I'm his," he says in response, getting more of a rise out of her.

"But that doesn't give you the right to—"

"Bobbie Jo." Landry halts her right there. "I'm not here about that. I'm here to tell Single that the Heimlichs wanna call up Rob Reardon, instead of him."

I blink, trying to take in what he just said.

He rests his hand on my back. "My sincerest apologies, Single. Rex spoke outta turn. Last night, over a few beers in the hotel bar, he was tellin' me what you did to Nichols like he couldn't believe it. I guess he didn't think you had it in you. But I knew. I knew it all along. I mentioned that you were on the list of names the Heimlichs were considerin', but I made it perfectly clear to him that things were still up in the air, nuthin' was final yet. But Rexy was feelin' guilty over how rotten he treated you all season, and he's never been one to hold his liquor. This morning when he told me he'd texted you about it as a way of makin' amends, I came right over." He grips my shoulder. "The Heimlichs are pretty sure the Kings are gonna make the play-offs, and they want Rob to get some postseason experience under his belt. As you know, they're groomin' him to be their up-and-comin' star." Landry sighs. "But, Single, I want you to know that I fought for you. I really did. I hope it goes without sayin' that I couldn't disagree more with the Heimlichs' decision."

"Oh, Luke," Roberta moans, her anger instantly receding as she pushes Landry aside and throws her arms around me. "This is so unfair. You deserve it more than anyone on that team."

"It's okay," I mumble through her hair. "I'm actually kinda relieved."

She steps back from me. "Please don't say that."

"Single…" Landry intervenes. "I know how much it meant to your dad, and now you gettin' so close after all that you've been through… I'm tellin' ya, it breaks my heart."

"Don't be silly." I wave them off. "There are things a whole lot worse that can break my heart, and trust me, this isn't one of them."

Roberta's eyes find mine. Her gaze is troubled, automatically assuming that I'm referring to what she told me last night. But she couldn't be more wrong. I just can't talk about it in front of Landry.

"Well," Landry coughs, seeing the way we're staring at each other. "Last night's sellout topped the season attendance mark the Heimlichs set for me, which means they extended my ownership agreement for three more years. And I promise ya, Single, you'll have a place in the Beavers' organization for as long as I'm a part of it."

I extend my hand to him. "Thanks, man."

He shakes it warmly. "About your mom…" He casts a glance to where she's rocking in place on the couch. "You're in good hands with Bobbie Jo. She's the best."

"She certainly is," I say, unable to wrest my eyes away from her.

She blushes, looking down at her hands. "So, that's it?" she asks.

"That's it," Landry responds.

She hands him his hat. "So, you'll be leaving, then?"

"And here I thought you'd wanna hear all about my date with Ruby," he teases.

"I thought it wasn't a date?"

"That night wasn't…but the time after that, and the time after that…"

She covers her ears as his eyes twinkle down at her. "All right, enough! I get the picture."

"She sure got this ol' cowboy to loosen up. I tried to take charge of her cancer treatments, and she soundly put me in my place," he chuckles.

But Roberta doesn't. "She's still receiving chemo?"

"Nah, scratch that," he says, placing his hat atop his head. "What I should've said was her follow-up care. She's been cancer-free for a little over a month."