Page 9 of Inherited Light
I wiped the remaining sawdust off the leaves and laid them on the counter, tapping a tiny nail into the bottom of each leaf. I would use the nail to hold while I stained the leaf and then use it to affix the leaf to the stem. Carving relaxed me usually, but this morning I didn’t feel relaxed. I was nervous and kept checking the clock, not wanting to miss breakfast or Little League.
Last night I had hoped since Cinn was in a bit of a drugged stupor she might tell me how Cat ended up in a wheelchair. She shook her finger at me and said if I wanted to know the answer to my question, I would have to ask Cat. Her one brow furrowed into a frown when I told her I would be taking her out tonight. I couldn’t figure out why, nor would she tell me, but I suspected it had something to do with Cat being her friend and she didn’t want her little brother to screw up her friendship.
I texted Cat last night when I arrived home from Cinn’s to tell her she would be okay once she got a good night sleep. We ended up texting for hours, about everything from music choices to political views. It surprised me she had many of the same views and likes as I do. Then again, we’re both Hispanic and we like the music of our culture. The one subject we never touched was what happened in her teens. I can remember her being at our house as far back as Cinn leaving to play with the bands when she turned fifteen, which meant the injury or illness happened at some point after she stopped coming around.
Since she’s older than I am, I never thought twice about not seeing her around school. She would have graduated long before I made it to high school. I set the parts of the flower out to dry and wiped my hands. If my nose could be trusted Miss Mary was up and cooking bacon. I grabbed my shirt and tugged it on, took my keys, and jogged down the steps to the café, two at a time. I would still have time to finish the flower, after Little League and a quick visit to Cinn’s, since there will be hours until my date. I liked the sound of the word date. It had been way too long since I’d been on one, but I hoped with all my might that tonight ended my losing streak, forever.
“Come on, Javier, you can do this,” I yelled, clapping my hands from the dugout as my youngest player came up to bat. He was nine, but didn’t look a day over six, and lacked confidence in his baseball ability. Regardless, he was my favorite player. He always wanted to learn, improve, and be the best team player he could be.
The pitcher wound up and threw the ball, Javier using every bit of concentration he had to decide if he should swing or not. At the final second, he swung the bat and the wood knocked as it connected with the ball.
“Run, Javier!” I yelled, clapping enthusiastically. He ran for first and with the ball still in the air, he rounded the base and headed for second. His foot touched the base at the same second the ball hit the second baseman’s glove, and the ump yelled, “Safe!”
The members of the Little Ivywood Roosters who remained on the bench jumped up to whistle and cheer as Darren strode to home plate with confidence. We were down to the final out of the game, but we only needed one run to tie the game and two runs to win it.
“You’ve got this, Darren,” I called, clapping in rhythm to the feel of the crowd. “Take it slow and easy. Don’t swing until you feel it.”
Darren dug his feet into the dirt and lifted the bat up, the tip wiggling in the air a little as he waited for the pitcher to get ready. The ball left the pitcher’s glove and it was outside, but Darren swung at it in a desperate attempt.
“Strike one!” the ump yelled, as he stood near the catcher.
I started clapping again, trying to get Darren to focus on my voice. “It’s okay, shake it off, Darren. You’ve got this. You know he likes the inside. Just be patient and you’ll get the right pitch.”
He nodded once, letting me know he heard me and waited in his stance. The ball sailed past again and he didn’t swing, instead trying to jump out of the way at the last second, but the pitch hit him on his shoulder. Darren dropped the bat as the ump pointed for him to jog to first base. He stood with one foot on the base and took his batting glove off.
I left the dugout and jogged to first base. “Are you okay, buddy?” I asked as he tucked his glove in his back pocket.
“I’m fine, Coach Dalton,” he said, twirling his arm around to the side, and back and forth, so I could see the shoulder still had good range of motion. “Tell Franny she needs to be careful on the inside with this guy. He’s all over the place. I think he’s tired. Tell her to knock it out of the park so we can go get pizza.”
I nodded my agreement and jogged back to the bench as Franny swung the bat a bit to warm up. I leaned down near her ear when she stopped swinging. “Darren says careful on the inside. The pitcher is losing control. If you think you’re going to get hit, dive for the ground, got it?”
She nodded and I patted her on the shoulder. “He also said to knock it out of the park, he’s hungry.”
She giggled in the way only a nine-year-old girl can giggle and ran to home plate. I joined the rest of the team on the bench and clapped a few times. “Down the middle and away,” I yelled as she took her stance, waiting for the pitch.
The first two pitches were outside and low, which gave us 0 and 2 as he wound up again. The pitcher let go of the ball and I noticed the twist on it immediately, so did Franny. She swung and the bat hit the ball with a loud crack. All three runners took off for their next base, the adrenaline rushing through their little bodies as they pumped their legs around the diamond, paying no attention to where the ball was, concentrating only on home base. Javier crossed first and jumped out of the way, so Darren could slide into home, too. The rest of the team was yelling and cheering as Franny ran for all she was worth. The ball sailed over her head and the catcher grabbed it just as she slid in, touching her hand before it hit the base.
“Out!” the ump yelled enthusiastically as we poured onto the field from the dugout. The kids grabbed Franny as she brushed the dirt off her uniform, spinning her around in a circle. Once their celebrating was out of their systems, they lined up to walk the game line, shaking hands with the Martindale Mariners.
I brought up the rear, patting kids on the shoulder. “Good game guys,” I said, because it had been and it could have gone either way. “Way to play your hearts out,” I said, as they all trudged along, crestfallen by the loss. “You did a great job today,” I assured several who were near tears. “Thanks for being such good sports,” I said to others who had their shoulders slumped, but still traipsed through the line. I kept my eye on their coach at the end. He had a scowl on his face, and refused to acknowledge any of my players. He acted like a seven-year-old instead of a twenty-seven-year-old.
Xavier Carellton chapped my hide, to the max. His coaching technique involved yelling at the kids as much as possible, and putting them down more often than he lifted them up. He expected to win every game, and put too much stress on his players. A loss devastated them, and chances were good he probably required multiple extra practices the next week. I hadn’t quite figured out why he kept coming back to coach, or why they let him. It’s a volunteer coaching position and anyone would be better than he was at coaching the team.
After a few more players passed by, we were face-to-face, and his scowl became full-blown anger. He grabbed my hand in a handshake which nearly crushed the bones. He held me there, his face so close to mine I could smell whatever putrid thing he’d eaten for breakfast. I wanted to yank my hand from his, but he refused to let go, his beady brown eyes trained on me in a deadly glare. “If you’re smart you’ll cancel your date tonight. Lina is my girl and I’m not handing her over to some skinny, worthless kid like you. She needs a real man, which I happen to be. Take your little victory here today and run home to mommy, because if I catch you with my girl, I will kill you. Got it?”
He let go of my hand and shoved me in the shoulder at the same time, essentially knocking me off balance. I let myself fall, but before my butt hit the ground, I was up again, wiping off my hands. He laughed around the sneer on his face, and hustled his players toward the Martindale bus. My eyes remained trained on them for a few more seconds, the exchange rattling me.
“Coach Dalton?” Javier asked and I glanced back to my team. “I don’t think he should say he’s going to kill you.”
His hands were trembling and I groaned on the inside, wishing these kids hadn’t overheard his threat. I tipped Javier’s baseball cap down and forced a jovial tone to my voice. “Don’t let him bother you. He talks big, but he won’t actually kill me. You’re right though, he shouldn’t threaten people, so please don’t repeat it, ever. Got it?” I asked the team, taking time to stare down each one of them. Heads nodded up and down, so I clapped my hands once. “Good, now, enough about him, let’s go eat some pizza and enjoy our victory!” I said, holding my hands up in the air.
They all followed suit, clamoring around me as their parents waited for us after leaving the bleachers. I promised I would meet them all at the pizzeria, but when I got in my truck, I had to take a few deep breaths. Was Cat really Xavier’s girlfriend? He does live in Martindale, which is closer to where she lives than Little Ivywood, but she doesn’t seem the type to step out on someone, especially someone like Xavier. I shook my head and started my truck. More than likely, he had to strut around like a peacock because my team beat his on the field. I followed the parents out of the parking lot and vowed to put it out of my mind.
Chapter Five
I drove into the lot at the humane society and parked by a car. I had an hour before I had to pick Cat up, but I wanted enough time to get the BMW uncovered and ready for the trip to her house. She lived on the outskirts of Little Ivywood, almost to Martindale, where Cinn teaches. It meant I needed a good fifteen minutes to get there, and didn’t want to feel rushed.
“Taking the car tonight, Lorenzo?” my dad asked and I glanced up, surprised by the intrusion to my thoughts. He had Annabelle on a leash and she immediately wiggled down to the ground when she saw me.
