Page 102 of First Love, Second Draft

“Why won’t you just admit that you still love Noah? Why won’t you give him another chance?”

Gracie jumped from the bed. “Why are you doing this? You never liked Noah. Now you’re suddenly the president of his fan club? For crying out loud, you’re the one who introduced me to Luke and told me I should move on with Luke.”

“I know. But...” Mona sighed. “Did it ever occur to you maybe I’m wrong sometimes?”

“It’s sure occurring to me right now.” Gracie stomped to the closet and grabbed an armload of clothes, hangers and all, and hurled them at her suitcase.

“When I told you to move on it was because I thought you were miserable. Then Noah came back, and you were different. Both of you were different. And it took me a while to realize that you weren’t actually different. You were the same. Except maybe a little different. Or maybe I’m just the one who’s different.”

“Haveyougotten into the peppermint schnapps?”

“Just hear me out.”

“Then try to make sense fast. I’m hitting the road in five minutes.” And she was going to need every one of those five minutes to figure out how to get her suitcase closed.

“Wouldn’t you want Morris back if you could have him?”

Gracie tried bouncing her knees on her suitcase to close it. “Talking... about a dead cat... from my childhood...” Oh forget it. The suitcase wasn’t closing. “...is not what I had in mind when I told you to make sense.”

“What I’m saying is I’d forgotten what it was like when you and Noah were together. How much fun you had even when you drove each other crazy. It used to drive me crazy. But I don’t know, seeing how happy Matt is with Rachel... Seeing how you two looked dancing together at their wedding... It just made me think there’s still reason to hope.”

“For what?”

“A happily-ever-after. And not just for you. For everyone. Even me.”

Gracie shoved half of the clothes out of her suitcase so she could start tugging the zipper closed. “Well, don’t waste your hopes on me, Sis. Hate to break it to you, but Morris is dead. And so is my marriage.”

Gracie ended the call, lugged her suitcase to her car, and drove to the hospital. After a quick visit with Dad, she was driving to Tennessee, finding herself a quiet little place to stay, and hunkering down until all the World Series hoopla was over.

But twenty-five minutes later, as soon as she stepped into Buck’s room, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

64

Sports talk radio:

David: Have you ever seen a crazier World Series than what we’ve witnessed this past week?

Brad: Never in my life.

David: What do you make of Dusty’s surprise move to not only bring Parker back on the roster for this final series, but place him as the starting pitcher in the eleventh hour?

Brad: You know, the way I see it, it’s the type of move that can only go two ways. Either Dusty walks away with a World Series ring and looks like the most brilliant manager to ever wear a baseball uniform. Or he walks away looking like the world’s biggest village idiot. Basically it all boils down to how Parker performs tonight.

David: And how do you think he’s going to perform?

Brad: Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He hasn’t pitched in over a month. Last six games Dusty has kept him locked up in the bullpen. And you have to remember, Parker was getting his butt handed to him on a platter by the end of the regular season. So why start him tonight in St. Louis? I don’t know. On the one hand, he’s had a month off. His arm ought to be rested. On the other hand, he’s been gone for a month! Nobody even knows where he’s been. What’s he been doing? Is he even ready to pitch?I guess we’ll see. All I can say is hold on tight. This wild ride isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

David: You’ve got that right. Stay tuned, listeners. When we come back, we want to hear from you. What are your thoughts on tonight’s game? Does Grandpa Parker have what it takes to pull off a World Series win and be a hero one last time?

65

Noah’s ears still rang from the rock music that had blared earlier in the clubhouse. Hey, whatever pumped up his teammates. He propped his foot on the bench next to his locker and tied his cleats, glad for the silence. The solitude.

The nice thing about being the starting pitcher for game seven of the World Series is when you tell everyone to leave you alone and not talk to you, especially reporters, they listen. Well, everyone but your catcher.

“How you feeling?” Rooster straddled the bench next to his foot.

Noah shrugged. “Good. I think.”

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