Stealing Third (17 page)

“Oh,
I see how it is. Thanks a lot, Coach,” Pete jokes, making everyone laugh again,
and taking with it any leftover tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders since
last night.

“Speaking
of wanting to tell you something,” Mom says, somehow putting the tension right
back in. “Can we have a minute to speak with you alone, sweetie?”

My
heart drops in my chest. Here it is. The inevitable talk I’ve tried so
hard—misguided as it was—to avoid for the last year.

I
take a deep breath, remembering what I really want, above all else, is for my
parents to be happy. I smile.

“Of
course. How about we take a walk?”

Waiting
for Emily to finish saying goodbye to her parents in private, I lean against an
old oak tree and take a deep breath, both relieved and surprised at how this
day has turned out. Definitely not what I expected when I woke up this morning,
that’s for sure.

I
tip my head back and soak up the last few minutes of daylight. The sky—streaked
with varying shades of pink, red, and orange—fades into the dark blues, purples
and blacks of dusk, as the faint crackle of a campfire, further down the trail,
can barely be heard above the laughter of everyone gathering around it. 

A
perfect summer night.

“Hey,”
Emily says, walking towards me with her hands tucked into the back pockets of
her jean skirt, somehow managing to look shy despite being the boldest girl I
know.

I
push off the tree and close the short distance between us. “Thought you might
want this,” I say, pulling the faded red hoodie from my shoulder and wrapping
it around her bare arms. “So…” I whisper, even though I’m not sure if I should
ask or if I should wait for her to bring it up. “How’d it go?”

Emily
drops her eyes to the ground, looking like she’s on the verge of tears. Oh,
crap. I should have waited.

I
pull Emily into my arms, and hold her tight until she tips her head up and looks
at me through her lashes, her eyes filled with joy instead of tears like I
expect.

“Tyler,
it was amazing.” She smiles, her whole face lighting up. “I was certain, no,
more than certain, resigned my parents were coming to tell me they’re calling
it quits and getting a divorce, but they didn’t. I mean they’re not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”
Emily shakes her head as we start to walk down the trail, hand in hand, her
excitement barely contained in her step—which is actually more like a skip than
anything.

“They
said over the last few weeks they’ve finally been able to focus on their
relationship
without any other distractions, and after a few big fights, and some sessions
with a marriage counselor, they’re doing better.”

“Wow.”

“I
know, I can’t believe it. I mean, I know they have a lot to work on, but
they’re working on it. Ya, know? And they seem happy.” Emily’s voice softens.
“Really happy, for the first time in, like, forever.”

I
wrap my arm around Emily’s shoulder as we continue down the dirt trail. “That’s
amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank
you,” Emily says, snuggling deeper into the crook of my arm. “Except, I have a
lot of work to do to help repair my relationship with them, since the truth is,
I’ve been the main ‘distraction’ for them over the last year.” Emily frowns,
looking guilty. “But… we’re going to do family counseling when I get home,
which I think will be really good for all of us.”

I
lean down and kiss her on the top of her head, loving the way her eyes crinkle
when she glances back up at me, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her.

“So,
how’d you manage to get my sweatshirt?” Emily asks, tucking her hands into the
floppy sleeves and burying her nose to take a deep breath.

I
raise my brows, giving her a crooked smile. “You mean
my
sweatshirt?”

“Oh,
no, you lost ownership of this baby the moment you gave it to me,” Emily
laughs, wrapping her arms around my waist, and resting her chin on my chest.

I
brush my thumb across her smiling cheek, not at all surprised by how fast I’ve
fallen for this girl. This amazing, beautiful girl. “Funny. I could say the
same thing about my heart.”

“That
you lost ownership the moment you gave it to me?” Emily says, her smile soft,
her eyes sparkling.

“Maybe
even before that—if I’m telling the truth,” I admit, without reservation. No
more games.

Emily
lifts up on her toes and brushes her lips against mine. “I know exactly what
you mean, Slugger.”

The
sexy way her nickname for me rolls off her tongue knots my stomach with want. I
pull her body into mine and crash my lips into hers, relieved we don’t need to
sneak around or worry about someone cutting it short and busting us.

“Oh.
I almost forgot to tell you,” Emily says, pulling away suddenly, and breaking
it up all on her own.

Seriously?

“Hey,
I was in the middle of something here,” I tease, kissing down her neck and
making her squirm. “Can it wait?”

“Dad
knows.”

I
stop my assault on her neck. Knows what? About last night?  My heart picks up;
surprise nearly knocking me over that he didn’t take a wooden bat to my knees
after finding out about Emily and I half dressed and going at it in the
outfield.

“Is
he…pissed? Never mind.” I wave away my stupid question. “Of course he’s
pissed.” I hang my head, readying myself to hear exactly how mad he is. “So? Do
I need to transfer schools? Join witness protection?”

Emily
laughs at my paranoia. “He’s not mad at all.”

My
jaw goes slack. “He’s not mad? At all?”

“No—I
mean, he’s definitely worried because he doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s not
mad.”

Lose
me? Wait. What?

“We’re
not talking about your dad finding out about us last night, are we?”

Emily
clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp before breaking out in a fit of
giggles. “No. We are definitely
not
talking about that. Do you really
think you’d still be walking?” she asks in all seriousness. Her question making
me laugh—considering that’s exactly what I figured would happen if he ever
found out.

“No,
he knows about you having to choose between med school or baseball.”

I
choke on my laugh. “But…how?”

“After
our talk, we ran into Doc and he went on for almost half an hour about what a
bright future you have in medicine. I guess Dad put two and two together—you
know—that it has to be one or the other. But don’t worry; I reminded him we had
six more weeks here before anything needed to be decided.”

“Actually…
a funny thing happened last night. At the prospect of losing both, I finally
realized exactly what I want to do.”

“Tyler,
that’s amazing!” Emily jumps into my arms, a wide grin spreading across her
face. “So? Is it gonna be Tyler Ford, MD? Or Tyler Ford, MVP?”

“I
decided it’s going to be Tyler Ford, M—”

“All
right, you two,” Lucy says, appearing from behind a group of dense trees
further up the trail and interrupting us. “Enough kissy face already—you have
all summer. So come on, everyone’s waiting for Camp Champ’s newest couple.”
Lucy gestures back up the trail where the campfire is burning brightly just
beyond the trees. “Well…second newest.”

I
set Emily back on the ground, but keep my arms wrapped tightly around her.
“Second newest, huh? Who’s the other lucky couple? Todd and his bod? ” I joke,
earning a snort from Emily.

“Close.”
Lucy laughs. “It’s Todd and Jenny. And they’ve already named themselves
‘Hottiebody.’”

“But
that doesn’t even make sense,” Emily says, laughing.

“I
know, but I don’t think Todd gets how the whole name mash thing works, and
Jenny doesn’t seem to care she’s so happy.”

Glancing
down at Emily as she giggles with her friend, I make a mental note to talk to
Todd later and remind him of the rules. Rule number one: don’t get caught.

“I’m
happy for them, and I think ‘Hottiebody’ is the perfect name,” Emily says.

“It’s
all right, but it’s definitely not as good as ours,” I say, winking at Lucy
since I have her and Kaitlin to thank for the name.

Emily
whips her head back and forth between Lucy and me as she bounces on her tip
toes. “We have a camp name? But we’ve only been a couple for, like, half a
day?”

“That
didn’t stop ‘Hottiebody,” Lucy laughs.

“True,”
Emily concedes. “So? Who came up with it?

“Are
you kidding?” I gesture to Lucy with my head. “She and Kat had that locked down
before you and your parents got done talking this afternoon.”

“But
we were only gone for, like, an hour.”

I
smile at Emily’s surprise. She should know better than anyone what her two best
friends are capable of. “I’m telling you, locked down. I was afraid if you were
gone much longer, they were going to start planning our wedding.”

Emily
laughs at my joke, but the funny thing is I’m not kidding. I think they decided
on pink bridesmaids dresses.

“Well?
What is it? No. No, let me guess,” Emily says, rolling her eyes towards the
sky, thinking. “Is it Tily? No, Tim and Lilly already have that name. Um…is it
Emler? No.” She shakes her head. “That sounds too much like glue—which, Lucy,
our future kindergarten teacher might like—but it would never fly with Kat.”

“Should
we give her a clue?” Lucy says, bouncing like one of her elementary aged
campers who has to go to the bathroom, obviously dying to tell Emily.

I
sling my arm over Emily’s shoulder. “Nah, she’ll figure it out soon enough,” I
say as we round the corner and the light from the campfire bounces off Emily’s
cheekbones. Her smile as radiant as ever.

“There
they are,” someone shouts over the noise of a dozen small conversations
happening around the giant fire. “Forevers is finally here!”

“Ford…Evers…Forevers.”
Emily smiles up at me, her eyes twinkling. “I kind of love it.”

“Me,
too,” I say before leaning down and pressing my lips to hers, eliciting a round
of shouts and applauses from our friends.

Me,
too.

“Good
game,” I call out over the noise echoing through the stadium as I slap number
forty-two on the back. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

With
a quick nod, I grab my bag, toss it over my shoulder, and step out of the
dugout, readying myself for the press.

“Ford,
Ford! Over here!” someone shouts, as the blinding light from multiple camera
flashes leaves spots behind my eyes and a smile on my face. The rush of it
never getting old. Not like me, anyway.

A
small tug on my sleeve distracts me momentarily from the pressing issue at
hand.

“Can
I get your autograph?” A boy, about twelve years old asks, holding out my
rookie baseball card and a thick black sharpie. I take the card from his hand
and run my thumb across its shiny surface, a million memories of that first
year rushing back to me all at once.

I
kneel down so we’re face to face, remembering what it was like to be his age,
dreaming of being a major league baseball player someday. “So, who should I make
it out to? Future MLB star?”

“Tommy.”

“Tommy,
huh?” I smile at the kid, decked out in the team’s jersey, a matching hat, and
batter’s glove. “I bet’cha didn’t know I have a brother named Tommy,” I say
signing the card and handing it back.

“Actually,
I did know that because I’m one of your biggest fans,” he says, slipping the
card into a small plastic protective sleeve before putting it into the tin box
he’s holding. “I also know your batting average, your runs batted in, your
saves—you name it. I know it.” 

I
give the kid a quick head rub and jostle his hair. “Wow, that’s pretty
impressive,” I say, chuckling at the idea I have fans at all.

“Thanks,
Mr. Ford.”

“You
can call me Tyler next time you see me, okay, Tommy?” I hand him back his pen
and point him in the direction of Lou, the team manager. “Go tell Lou I sent
you, and I bet he’ll be able to get you a signed team ball to add to that
collection of cards you have there.” I gesture to his box.

“Really?”
His eyes light up. “Thanks, Tyler!” he says before scuttling off into the crowd
towards Lou, and leaving me to at least a dozen microphones, digital recorders,
and cameras being shoved in my face. Back to work.

“Dr.
Ford. Dr. Ford,” a reporter shouts, gaining my attention. “Dr. Ford, you know
Pete Mickelson better than anyone on the team since you came up with him
through the minors and then got your rookie breaks together. Can you elaborate
on his probable diagnosis, and if you believe he can overcome this injury?”

“Yeah,
is his career done?” another reporter shouts before I can answer the first.

“All
right, all right. One at a time.” I point at the first reporter again. “Go
ahead.”

“Thanks,”
he says in a thick New York accent as he maneuvers his microphone closer.
“Since you yourself endured the same injury after your second year with the
Yanks—effectively ending your baseball career—can you elaborate for us the
amount of rehab this will take for him to make a full recovery? And is it even
possible?”

I
adjust my tie at the insinuation my injury ended my baseball career, when in
truth, after working with the amazing team of doctors that helped me recover
after I tore my ACL, I decided I wanted to finish my pursuit of medicine. My
true calling.

“Pete
Mickleson incurred an anterior cruciate ligament injury today, and though a
deeper evaluation will be needed, it is my professional opinion he will indeed
need surgery, which I will most likely schedule for sometime next week. That
being said, Mr. Mickleson is in peak health and I expect he will make a complete
and full recovery.”

“Dr.—”

I
hold up my hand, to stop any further questions. “There will be a full press
conference tomorrow afternoon where all questions will be addressed,” I say,
seeing my little girl running down the hall towards me, her lips as bright red
as the tips of her mother’s hair the night we met. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

“Daddy!"

“Hi,
honey,” Emily says, kissing my cheek before I scoop up our daughter and give
her a hug. “Please tell me Pete’s going to be okay—Kaitlin is seriously freaking
out.”

“Not
to worry, Pete’s going to be fine. I’ll give Kat a call from the car and
explain the procedure. He’ll be as good as new when I’m done with him, I
promise.” I smile at my wife as the worry on her face for our friends washes
away, before turning my attention back to the wiggle worm in my arms. “Now, a
more pressing problem is how you, little missy, are ever going to fall asleep
tonight. I can practically smell the sugar coming out of your pores.”

“Grandma
and Grandpa let me have three popsicles
and
a cotton candy.”

I
roll my eyes. Of course, they did. And that explains the red lips. “Remind me
to thank Coach for that later.”

“Grandpa
said you’d say that,” Ellie informs me before falling into a fit of giggles.

“All
right, my little slugger,” Emily says tickling Ellie’s side. “We need to get
you home and in bed—you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Ellie
lays her head on my shoulder as her laughter dies down. “Do I have to go,
Daddy?”

Rubbing
small circles on our daughter’s back, Emily smiles up at me, her grin still as
light and bright as it was nearly twenty years ago when I first laid eyes on
her.

“What
if nobody likes me?” Ellie whispers, owning my heart like no one other than her
mother ever has.

“You
know what, sweetie?” I snuggle my head against hers before wrapping my arm
around my wife’s shoulder and walking us out of the stadium and to our car.
“One time your mommy didn’t want to go to camp either, but she was glad she did
because not only did she make lots of new friends, she also made memories that
will last her forever.”

“Really?”
Ellie looks up at me through her lashes, smiling. “Forevers?” she says with a
small lisp.

“Forevers.”

The End