Chapter Twenty-Two
"I'm so sorry," Lauren began. "I should have told you way before this⦠In private."
Terry could see she was fighting back tears. Instead of feeling like crying himself, as he had at the hospital, he simply felt numb. Too numb to even say something at that moment.
"I intended to tell you after we saw Carly," Lauren resumed. "But it just kind of slipped out back there."
"Cancer?" he barely mumbled.
"I've got lupus. I've had it for years. It didn't get bad, though, until...until after the car accident. They think the stress of everything set it off."
"And it's life threatening?" he managed.
"I'm afraid it is. Most people with lupus survive, but I'm subject to blood clots. I've already had three bad episodes."
He could only shake his head.
"They've warned me," she continued grimly. "Another could be..."
He shook his head again. Their waiter came over to take their order. Understandably, neither of them were hungry right then, however, so they asked him to come back.
The restaurant he had selected was unique. It was a mixture of American diner with a retro look, yet had a definite European flavor featuring paintings of famous locales like the Eiffel Tower and the Danube.
"I almost told you in the parking lot the other day," she said.
"You mean when stupid me joked about you being in your prime," he replied glumly. "I'm sorry... I didn't know."
"Don't apologize. You
didn't
know."
"So this is what you meant weeks ago at your place when you said there were some things I didn't know."
"Yes," she answered softly. "I should have told you right then."
"Why didn't you?" he asked just as softly.
"I guess because I didn't know you well enough. I wasn't sure...how I felt."
"About me?"
She nodded.
"Why did you wait
this
long?" he asked her gently.
"I'm not sure.... Maybe because of the kids. I didn't want to spoil your relationship with them. With Billy. He's doing so much better."
"You thought I'd stop seeing all of you if I knew? Run away like Carly."
"Something like that," she replied somberly.
He could see she was fighting back tears again. He reached across the table and touched her arm.
"Speaking of the kids," he said. "Any plans?"
"You mean...if...?"
He nodded solemnly.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I was hoping my brother would take more interest, but he's got his own life. And, they're not so crazy about him either."
"Is he why you moved here?"
"Yesâ¦his being a doctor. With access to more current treatments than I could get in Texas."
"Has he helped?"
"He's tried," she sounded grim. "But short of a cure..."
"There's no chance...this whole thing's not some terrible mistake?"
"No. No chance."
"You look pretty healthy to me,” he said, smiling weakly while grasping for any particle of hope.
"I've been lucky so far. I've shown very few external symptoms, other than losing some weight. Which you might have noticed."
Indeed he had. The fact that she was slender, at any rate, which he'd assumed was a natural characteristic, not a symptom of some life-threatening condition.
He still had other questions. Things like medications and specific treatments. But he restrained himself. Really, what was the point at this particular time? The waiter came over for their order again, reminding him there was still lunch to try and salvage. Regardless of any lack of appetite either or both of them had.
They did manage to get through the meal, however, primarily by chatting about the kids.
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After lunch, he took her to her car, which like last time, was parked in the hospital lot. He parked his car and walked with her to hers. Once she unlocked her door, he kissed her tentatively. She pulled away almost immediately.
"You sure you want to do this?" she asked, sounding drained.
He looked at her briefly. Then he kissed her passionately, holding her very close. This time she responded, throwing her arms around him too.
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Terry's consecutive save streak ended that night. The explanation was simpleâonce the news about Lauren sunk in completely, he couldn't concentrate. He wandered around aimlessly the rest of the day. He couldn't eat, he couldn't read, he couldn't nap, and he even had trouble finding his way to the ball park.
When he entered the game to begin the ninth, Oakland led Kansas City 5-3. He faced six batters before Rick mercifully removed him. His problem was control of his pitchesâeither he wasn't able to locate the strike zone, or he sent them right down the middle. Three walks and three doubles put Kansas City ahead 7-5, a lead they never relinquished.
It was Terry's first major league loss.
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"I've made a decision," Carly greeted Murdoch after he entered her hospital room.
"What, honey?"
"Spoke to the doctor a few minutes ago."
"Yes?"
"I begin the drug program here tomorrow."
Murdoch was astounded. Here he'd been agonizing over the road trip about to begin (the hospital was his final stop before the airport, in fact). Like before the last trip, to New York, he'd even considered not going. Maybe try to arrange a personal leave so he could keep an eye on her. Or, at the very least, fly back once or twice during the trip. But now, unexpectedly, she provides the perfect solution at the ideal time. Where she would remain here, under close supervision. Where, he knew from personal experience with her mother's drug programs, his presence was neither required nor even welcomed.
'What made you decide, honey?"
"Lauren."
"Lauren?"
"Yes," she answered. "Lauren."
He didn't reply.
"If she can show all the courage she's showing in her situation," she continued, "least I can do is show a little in mine."
Murdoch gazed at her questioningly, so she elaborated. She told him how Lauren had helped her during the pregnancy, guiding her through that difficult period. How she, Carly, had run away after the baby was born. How she'd interpreted Lauren's recent reentry into her life as a definite omen. Then, lastly, Carly disclosed Lauren's current crisis.
"If I don't get myself straightened out," she declared, "I've wasted everything she's done for me."
As when she first told him of the baby, Murdoch put his arms around his daughter and held her several minutes. This time it was his eyes, not hers, which started to moisten.
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Terry began a new streak. Unfortunately, this one was negative. For the second consecutive time, he suffered a blown save. And this performance was no better than the prior.
It should have been easy. Oakland led 7-3 in the bottom of the ninth in Seattle. At the same stadium where he'd gotten his first save almost three months ago. The same sounds of a train whistle blowing greeted his entry into the game from the bullpen. The same late-night foggy condition existed as he stood on the mound with two on and two out. His first pitch hit the first batter, loading the bases. The next batter hit the next pitch to deep left field. This time Murdoch wasn't able to catch it, not when it landed halfway up the bleachers for a game-tying grand slam.
There was some good news. Franks, whom Rick summoned to replace Terry, got the final out of the ninth, and then pitched a scoreless bottom of the tenth. And Murdoch hit a two-run double in the top of the inning, propelling Oakland to a 9-7 win.
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"Make me a promise..." Lauren said to Terry, the two of them sitting with Karen and Tammy in the grandstand at Billy's Little League park.
"Sure..."
"No sympathy."
He nodded.
"I don't want you feeling sorry for me," she emphasized. "
Or
for the kids."
"I promise. No sympathy."
She didn't reply, but appeared satisfied with his response.
"Truth is," he grinned, attempting to lighten a tense moment, "the way I've pitched lately, I'm the one that might ask for sympathy."
She smiled. His gaze turned to Billy out on the mound. The game was in the first inning and the boy had started well, striking out the first two hitters. It seemed to Terry that the batters were having trouble seeing Billy's deliveries in the early evening twilight, since the sun had disappeared and it wasn't dark enough yet for the park lights to provide much illumination.
Terry had phoned Lauren from Seattle near the end of the series there, and she informed him Billy's team, "The Dodgers," was playing in the league championship game tonight, and Billy was pitching. Since today was an off day for Oakland and the next game wasn't until tomorrow night in Texas, Terry had gotten permission from Rick to fly to San Francisco this morning, then on to Texas later tonight.
"Feeling okay?" he asked Lauren after Billy fired a strike to the next hitter.
"Make me another promise..."
"Sure..."
"No hanging on every sniffle."
"Sure," he replied brusquely, a bit hurt.
"Sorry," she said, touching his hand. "Guess I'm a little worried. I saw the doctor this morning..."
She paused briefly. He wasn't sure whether it was for effect, or because Billy had thrown another strike.
"He told me I shouldn't get my hopes up," she continued. "That there are often cases like mine with very few symptoms, then practically overnight, the patient falls apart.... I don't want to fall apart."
He was aware of the tears in her eyes. But he also saw determination in them. Though several thoughts ran through his mind, he didn't verbalize them. Not that she would have been able to hear him right then, anyway. Billy had fired strike three for the third out, and spectators cheered. Karen and Tammy, both seated on the other side of Lauren from Terry, may have been the loudest, informing everyone within earshot that Billy was their big brother.
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There were two outs in the bottom of the sixth, the last scheduled inning of the Little League championship game. The Dodgers led 1-0, on Billy's run-scoring triple. Terry could see tension in the expressions of most of the people sitting nearby. Tension certainly having to do with the score, but probably more a reflection of the fact that Billy, with only one batter left to retire, was pitching a no hitter.
He fired a strike. Spectators applauded. Terry felt tense himself, as if he were the one on the mound, not Billy. It was completely dark now, well past twilight, and the park lights were in full force, which should have enabled batters to see Billy's pitches much better than earlier. Something not indicated, though, by the last five batters, all strike out victims.
Strike two. One more and Billy would have his no hitter and The Dodgers the championship. He wound up and threw the next pitch. The batter swung and lifted a little pop fly beyond the mound. Terry gasped, fearful the ball would drop before any of the infielders could get to it. But Billy, running back and reaching over his head and behind himself, snagged it in the webbing of his glove for the final out.
His teammates mobbed him, right there in the middle of the field, where he'd caught the ball. Terry, Lauren and the girls got up to join him, but sat back down following the introduction of an awards ceremony. In the next few minutes, Billy and all his teammates received individual trophies commemorating their championship. And Billy won a special plaque for being the league's most valuable player. On their way to the field, once the ceremony was over, Terry couldn't help beaming.
"Congratulations," he said to Billy, shaking his hand.
"Thanks, Terry," Billy replied, showing hardly any of his usual shyness. "For all your help."
"I hope just a little of your talent rubs off on me," Terry grinned, still gripping Billy's hand.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Murdoch rarely exchanged words with his teammates on the road. Or at home either, for that matter. Clearly he preferred his own company. Therefore, Terry was surprised when, during pregame batting practice in Texas, Murdoch approached him as he stood near the bullpen in left field.
"Thought you might be interested," Murdoch began. "Carly's doing good."
"I was wondering..."
"Your friend's been a solid influence."
"Lauren?"
"Yes, Lauren," Murdoch replied. "Carly told me about her...situation. Sorry to hear."
"Thanks."
"She got Carly to begin a drug program," Murdoch said.
Terry was surprised again, recalling Carly's staunch opposition. Murdoch told him she now resided in a very plain dormitory-style facility at one end of the hospital. And, that although her first few days at the program hadn't been easy, she was determined to finish.
"You able to call her?" Terry asked.
"Any night between seven and ten."
"What about visiting?"
"By appointment only. With the approval of the program administrator."
A fly ball from batting practice landed nearby and Terry retrieved it, tossing it back toward the infield.
"Oh...almost forgot," Murdoch chuckled. "She asked about her Uncle Terry."
"What you say?"
"That he looks kinda lost and could use some help, and might take him out for dinner."
"That an invitation?" Terry asked, surprised once more.