The Heart Of The Game (6 page)

The locker room that for the past two weeks had been a rush of boisterous energy was now subdued. Walsh, the Giants’ manager, wore his stoic face as he fielded questions from reporters in the press alcove. Cody wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. How did a man explain how a game that had such great momentum in their favor had swung so far the other way? How the team that was in first place in the league had lost? You couldn’t point to one factor. No one could. Sure, there’d be the usual barking of the sports announcers and press pointing to this thing or that, but in the end, they’d just been outplayed. If it’d been bum calls or just luck, Cody would’ve been steamed. But the Dodgers had played better.

Still, it felt rotten to lose.

Worse, he wouldn’t know, perhaps for weeks, maybe months, if the Giants would keep him on the team. Not knowing was a damned bummer way to head into the offseason.

When Cody got to his locker, he stared for a moment. Marty, the clubhouse guy, had put a cold bottle of Dr Pepper on the top shelf. Marty was from Billings—Montana born and bred—and even though Cody had only been called up a few weeks ago, Marty always made sure to have a cold one waiting at the end of the games. That was Montana manners for you. And Marty had a fascination for the pro-rodeo circuit. Cody’s back-to-back championships had scored high with the down-home Montanan, maybe higher than a great slugging percentage or a solid batting average. More than seven years had passed since Cody’s rodeo days, but that didn’t matter to Marty. Once a champ, always a champ he’d said the first day they’d met.

Cody dug out the check he’d written that morning to tip Marty. It probably wasn’t as big as the checks from the high-salary players, but it was the fattest check Cody could afford to write. He’d written out checks for each of the trainers that morning too. Without them, he would’ve had a hard time getting over the battering any catcher took in the game, especially a catcher who’d spent way too many of his younger years riding broncs.

Bronc riding delivered brutal pain, but baseball had its own knocks. No one could really tell you what it felt like to catch fastballs that neared a hundred miles an hour or to be slammed by an errant pitch—there weren’t words for pain like that. It hadn’t helped that he’d taken knocks in the polo match the day before. Damn thoroughbreds didn’t handle like a Montana quarter horse. But those knocks hadn’t affected his game tonight. Good thing, or he would’ve carried that guilt for the rest of his life. But he was sore in muscles he’d forgotten he had.

Reporters trawled the locker room looking for stories. Cody decided to skip a shower. He made a hurried change into his jeans and headed for the parking lot.

In the players’ parking area, the fog-chilled evening wind made him wish for the blessed heat of the shower. He fumbled for his keys as he sprinted to his truck. He was getting soft. In Montana, October nights could drop to fifteen degrees. And a winter night could drop below zero in a couple of hours. No one talked about the cold back home—it’d be like a fish talking about water. The cold was as much a part of Montana life as the rodeo and fly fishing.

Cody stopped beside his truck. Next to the sleek sedans and sports cars of his teammates, the road-worn, ten-year-old pickup looked out of place.

“You never get used to it.”

Alex Tavonesi’s voice came at him from behind. Cody whipped around and studied Alex. “Losing’s not my best skill,” he admitted.

Alex caught up to him. “I meant the fog. I’ve lived here all my life and it still chills my bones. We usually don’t have so much in early October, but the weather’s been strange the last few years.”

He was glad Alex wasn’t making conversation about the game. No words would seam up the hollow feeling of losing a game like that, of losing a chance to go all the way.

“Come up to my place in Sonoma,” Alex said. “Warm you up for a few days. You can stay over for my sister’s wedding.”

Alex’s sister was marrying Cody’s favorite teammate, Kaz Tokugawa, in three weeks. But weddings weren’t his thing. He’d hoped to bow out, send a nice gift and a card. But if he was honest, Alex’s personal invitation had some appeal. His city apartment was getting to him. Four walls, even if one was glass and looked out over the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge, became confining. He liked open space, country, and room to move.

When he didn’t answer right away, Alex added, “How about Thursday the twenty-ninth? Scotty’s coming up with Chloe. And I’ve challenged him to a billiards tournament. Play for my team?”

Cody found himself nodding yes and saying thanks, even though avoiding family events had become a well-honed skill. Yet with other teammates around, he’d survive the wedding.

“Great game today.” Alex extended a hand and, bemused, Cody shook it. “You brought your best, and it showed.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” But it still felt rotten that his best—that the team’s best—hadn’t been good enough.

“And that was some serious riding you did yesterday. Thanks for stepping up. Meant to tell you, but you disappeared.”

He had. The posh setting of Zoe’s family’s compound and the chatter of the well-heeled socialites and their fawning escorts was foreign territory. But most of all he hadn’t liked the hollow feeling ricocheting in his gut as he’d watched Zoe interacting with her family, a very small part of what was apparently her very large, too many to count, family. The hugs, the laughter, the easy smiles... It was like watching a commercial for everything his family wasn’t.

But like a wolf drawn to the lure of a warm fire, he feared he wouldn’t be able to resist the allure.

Cody hesitated before turning onto the tree-lined lane leading to Trovare. He’d managed to excuse himself from the pre-wedding festivities—and should’ve found an excuse to skip the wedding as well. But the warmly worded email from Kaz made him change his mind. At least that was what he told himself as he’d packed an overnight bag that morning. He’d never been to a wedding and didn’t want to believe that Zoe’s appearances in his dreams could lure him to an event he’d managed to avoid for twenty-six years.

He crested the hill. And braked.

The photos he’d seen when he’d looked up Trovare on the Internet hadn’t come close to capturing the majesty of the place Alex called home.

The medieval-style castle with its high stone towers and walls should’ve looked out of place in the Sonoma countryside, yet it didn’t. The castle presided over the acres of vineyards and distant mountains as if it had been there from the beginning of time.

At the sound of tires on gravel, he shot a glance in his rearview mirror. A couple in a Mercedes convertible had pulled up behind him. He took a last look at the castle from a distance and then nosed his truck down the curving drive.

About a hundred yards from the castle, a valet flagged him down, checked his name off a list and announced his arrival into a headset.

“Follow the signs to parking in the south lot, Mr. Bond. There’ll be a staffer there to guide you. And have an awesome day.”

Cody hadn’t gotten used to the way Californians called most everything awesome. But with the bright sun blazing across the autumn reds and golds of the vineyard and glinting off the stone walls of the castle, it just might be an appropriate word for such a day.
If
he could settle the strange feeling lurking in his gut.

The valet started to wave him forward, but stopped to tap the side of Cody’s truck. “Great hitting in that last game. Sorry about the Series, though,” he added with a shake of his head.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Cody put his truck into gear and followed the signs to the parking area. Not as sorry as I am, he thought. Or maybe he was—fans took playoff losses hard. He’d been a fan before he was a player. As a boy, when he’d watched his favorite team go down with a close loss, it’d taken him weeks to recover.

As he drove through the shadow cast by the high walls of the Trovare castle, he was pretty sure it’d take more than a staffer to guide him through the event ahead.

Another valet took his bag from him as he exited his truck.

“Welcome, Mr. Bond. We’ll send this up to your room.” He glanced at the phone clamped to his clipboard. “Ceremony’s starting in ten, so someone can show you to your room after.” He pointed to a gravel path lined with pots of blooming flowers. “Once you cross the drawbridge, walk through the great hall and out to the courtyard. It’s well marked.”

The great hall? Of course there’d be a great hall in a castle.

Cody followed the path. A laughing couple walked a few yards ahead. The woman leaned on the man’s arm as she struggled to navigate the uneven surface in stiletto heels. They looked like they’d stepped out of an ad for a clothing designer. Cody smoothed his hand down the sports jacket he wore and fought the urge to head back to his truck. He’d rather face a bucking bronc or a jacked-up bull than go where his feet were leading him. But damn, he liked Alex and Kaz. And Scotty would be there. And the wedding would be over in a flash. Plus he was looking forward to the pool game Alex had promised for later in the evening. But Zoe’s face rose in his mind, just like she’d featured in his dreams. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that seeing her again was as much of a draw as being with his teammates. And he tried never to lie. Especially to himself.

“Yo! Did a few games in the stadium already damage your hearing?”

He hadn’t heard Scotty approach him from behind.

“Where’s Chloe?”

“Bridesmaid.” Scotty waggled his brows. “No men allowed in those rituals. I went out for lunch—fresh-caught halibut, grilled peppers, sourdough bread. If you’d come up yesterday, I wouldn’t have had to eat alone.”

“If I’d come up yesterday, I’d probably have fled by now.”

“Hey, it’s a
party
. True love and all that.” Scotty grinned. “Our boy Kaz is a nervous wreck. You’d think he was pitching the last game of the Series.”

Cody forced a laugh.

They reached the drawbridge, and Cody stopped walking. And stared.

“Uh huh. My first reaction as well,” Scotty said. “Crazy what a dream can turn into. Wait till you see the rest of the place.”

Cody followed Scotty across the bridge, through an entryway, and into a massive room. A long table at its center was flanked by round tables staggered closer to the walls. Light from hundreds of candles danced and sparkled, shooting rays of color across the room. The large space seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the party to come. Uniformed waiters moved quietly, placing name cards in front of each of the hundreds of plates. Cody fought against the hushed voice that whispered that he didn’t belong in such a place and once again bit back his urge to return to his truck—take a drive in the hills—and walk off the tension building in him.

Instead, as he followed Scotty through the room and toward the massive arched doorway at the opposite end, he focused on the colorful, old-style murals covering the walls. Knights and ladies and angels wound through rolling vineyard scenes. A little white dog painted near the door caught his eye. Dogs he could relate to. He started to ask about the dog, but Scotty tapped at his watch and rushed him into the courtyard outside.

An usher directed them to sit in the area reserved for close friends and family of the bride. Scotty protested and insisted on sitting on Kaz’s side of the courtyard.

“Good thing Alex is in the wedding, or he’d have to sit in the middle of the aisle,” Scotty said. He stared at Cody. “Why are you so tense? This is just like every other wedding, only bigger. And more expensive.”

Cody blew out a long breath and surveyed the crowd. “Right. Every other wedding.”

“Man, you’ve been to tons of weddings before, haven’t you?”

Cody turned back to Scotty. “Nope.”

“Okay, you’ve been to at least one. The same principle. It’s—”

“Nope.”

Scotty frowned. “You’ve never been to a wedding?” His eyes bugged wide.

Cody shook his head. “Not a one.”

“I’ll have to study up on your avoidance techniques. Could use a few with this crowd. Not a fancy-party guy myself.”

The folding chairs squeaked as Cody and Scotty sat down. They looked like giants compared to the people seated around them. Cody shifted in his seat and looked forward. Kaz’s dark-haired, small-statured Japanese relatives filled the first two rows of their side of the courtyard. Evidently Kaz had gotten all the height genes in the family.

Cody did a quick calculation and estimated more than two hundred people sat in chairs facing an archway decorated with flowers he didn’t recognize.

“Looks like spring with all these flowers,” Scotty said with a glance at the garlands that curved along the stone walls of the courtyard. “But I love fall and winter,” he added over the hushed tones of the gathered crowd. “I mean, I crave the time off. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m already itching for spring training.”

Cody was more than itching. He’d rested for a week, watching the Series and studying every move of every player. The Dodgers’ Series win didn’t dissolve the knot of remorse filling him, but it helped. At least the Giants had lost to the world champs. Two days after the Series ended, he’d started his off-season workout. Alex had offered to show him some of his own routines while he was up at Trovare. Any tip or practice Alex Tavonesi suggested, he was ready for.

The murmurs of the crowd shifted as Kaz, Alex, and a man Cody thought had to be Kaz’s brother walked from a side door and stopped on the right side of the archway. A robed minister joined them as music swelled from a small orchestra playing on the steps just behind the arched opening. As one body, the crowd stood, catching Cody off guard. He nearly knocked over his chair as he pressed to stand. He steadied the chair and turned to face the direction everyone else was looking.

A small girl stood at the back of courtyard, between the two sections of guests. She tapped a hand to straighten the circle of flowers on her head, spilling petals from her basket at the same time. She grimaced and the crowd laughed. The girl hiked up her pale dress and squatted to scoop the petals back in.

“That’s Matt’s daughter, Sophie,” Scotty whispered to him. “She’s a kick. Just like her dad.”

Relief flooded Cody. He’d forgotten Matt would be there.

Sophie trounced down the aisle, throwing the petals out as if they were fastballs, grinning all the way.

The music shifted in tone and pace, and Cody turned once again to the back of the courtyard.

His throat went tight.

There, dressed in a pale green flowing dress with a crown of flowers on her head, stood Zoe. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight poured in from a high window in the castle walls and lit her face.

Radiant
.

Zoe had been lovely in his dreams, in his memories and fantasies, but nothing had prepared him for her to look like a goddess. Or for the dizzying buzz in his head, in his chest—hell, in his whole damned body.

He put a hand to the back of the chair and felt it wobble. Using the practiced focus that allowed him to drown out unwanted noise when he stood at the plate, he swallowed in a long, slow breath.

It didn’t help.

As if following some sort of cue, Zoe started down the aisle. She walked with a killer combination of athletic strength and floating grace. The tremble in the hands gripping a bouquet of flowers was barely noticeable. But it made him want to rush into the aisle, scoop her into his arms and carry her away somewhere. Anywhere.

Scotty nudged him. “You’ve got it bad, my man.”

He shifted and found Scotty staring at him. Whatever “it” was, Cody wished his emotions weren’t so damned easy to read. But pitchers and catchers spent long hours learning to read each other, sending signals beyond the obvious calls for pitches and strategies. Cody shrugged and watched as Zoe walked to the end of the aisle. And tried to pretend that the sway of her hips didn’t have him reliving one of his raciest dreams.

When she reached the left of the archway, she turned to face the crowd. A gentle smile curved her mouth, a smile that reminded him of women in Renaissance paintings. A smile that hid as much as it conveyed. The bouquet in her hands still trembled. Only very slightly, but his heart did a little flip for her. He knew what it felt like to stand in front of lots of people and have emotions you couldn’t hide be on full display.

She scanned the crowd, and for an instant her gaze found his. In that brief moment, he felt held. Captured. Hell, maybe even owned. It was a weird feeling, one he hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to classify or gauge. Her smile didn’t alter as she flicked her gaze to the aisle, and he shook off the odd sensation. The music swelled and the crowd turned their focus once again to the back of the courtyard. Reluctantly, Cody pivoted with them.

Alex and Sabrina’s cousin, Alana, made her way down the aisle. Alana’s hands didn’t tremble; she had the bearing of a woman accustomed to attention, a woman comfortable surrounded by pomp and glamor. She nodded and smiled at guests as she passed by and winked at Zoe when she took her place beside her. Zoe’s lips turned up with a wavering smile, and Cody found himself wanting to know what she was feeling.

“Kaz is gonna fall over if he doesn’t unlock his knees,” Scotty said with a grin. He nudged Cody again as he pivoted toward the back of the courtyard. “Here’s my girl.”

Chloe walked the aisle with the same easy poise that Alana had. But her eyes were on Scotty. It was as if she didn’t see the crowd, as if he and she were the only two people in the courtyard. As if they shared a secret world that Cody couldn’t even imagine.

A whisper went through the crowd. Cody recognized the next woman walking down the aisle from the movie he’d seen the previous week.

Cameron Kelley wasn’t the box office draw that Sabrina was, but her beauty and excellent acting brought a similar power to the big screen. He’d thought the magic of Hollywood played a role in making Cameron appear ethereal, but now, observing her in the flesh, he saw that she really was as lovely as she appeared on screen. Still, his heart didn’t tick up a notch when she passed him and Scotty. None of the other women had the radiant glow that Zoe had, the sizzle that reached straight into him, stirring his emotions. Not one even came close.

Sabrina appeared next, with a man Cody didn’t recognize. Lace and yards of some sort of filmy material and a long veil only enhanced Sabrina’s mysterious, dark beauty. The man held out his arm and Sabrina took it, smiled and then locked her eyes on Kaz.

Cody turned to see Kaz’s reaction. A look washed over Kaz’s face that made Cody’s stomach lurch under his ribs. He turned back to Sabrina, but not before seeing that a tear made its way down Zoe’s cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, lowering her eyes to the flowers in her hands.

Why people put themselves through such ritualized public torture, Cody didn’t know. But he could feel energy filling the room, like a stadium filling with fans before a big game. He hadn’t considered the value of rituals before. Well, other than personal ones. God knew, players each had their own rituals for prepping for a game, whether they admitted it or not.