Page 77 of The Scout

She rolled onto her toes and swiftly kissed me. Back on solid footing, I smacked her on the ass. “Okay, I love you. See you later. And Cash?”

“Yeah?”

“I do think practice makes perfect.” She giggled and scurried out of the room and down the steps.

God, I loved this woman.

* * *

Freshly showered, I sat at the kitchen table, looking at a few scouting reports. Yes, I was technically on personal leave, and despite not being the only scout for the Hawks, I wanted to make sure no potential player had been overlooked. I also wanted to check on who was going to approach Jimmy because there was no way that wouldn’t happen.

Word traveled fast. Curiosity about him being my son would get them to the park, but after they saw him pitch, any scout would realize his potential. The kid had the control of a minor leaguer. He had natural talent, was smart, took direction well, and worked hard. There was little not to like about him. That was why I knew everyone would strike while the iron was hot.

There were a lot of talented kids around the country, but only a few truly stood out. That was why when that diamond was found, contracts and early commitments were so important. Last year, a high school freshman committed to a college to play ball. So many people thought it was absurd for a fourteen-year-old to do that, but regardless, it happened. All they needed to do was a quick internet search, and all skepticism would be laid to rest.

Opening up my email, I saw a couple of them were from Vince, one from my dad (which was instantly deleted), several from coaches from various schools wanting me to take a look at players they thought had potential, and a couple from colleges inquiring about Jimmy. Not because I was a scout but because I was his parent. According to what I read, he would most likely be able to write his own ticket. Despite my having enough money to pay for his schooling, I knew that Hannah would love it if he got a scholarship.

Meanwhile, I still thought he could go straight to the pros, but that wasn’t my decision or Hannah’s to make. It was Jimmy’s. Needing to make notes, I got up and grabbed a large spiral notepad from the coffee table and flipped it open. Rather than find a blank sheet of paper, I found a sketch of a building that left me awestruck. It was a beautifully intricate drawing of a modern skyscraper that seemed to touch the clouds. The attention to detail was remarkable. I couldn’t help but admire it. Then I noticed Jimmy’s name in the bottom right corner of the page.

As I continued to turn the pages, I came across a modern take on a farmhouse, complete with a barn. It was beautiful. Letting my imagination wander, I thought maybe I could buy land and have this house built. Because how cool would that be? I knew my kid had talent on the field, but after seeing this, I knew why Hannah wanted him to go to college.

I set the book back down, leaving it open to that page to remind me to talk to Hannah about it. Then I got up, grabbed a scrap piece of paper out of the junk drawer I found in Hannah’s kitchen, and jotted things down. In one of Vince’s emails, he asked if I could take a look at a kid who played in a travel league two hours south of Blossom Berry Falls. Since he’d been so understanding, I replied that I would. Then there was a knock at the door, and as soon as I heard a high-pitched bark, I knew my friend and his sidekick had arrived.

Pulling the door open, I found my buddy standing on the porch with a rolling suitcase and small duffel bag next to him, Thor in his arms.

“Hi. Come on in.”

He put down a tail-wagging Thor, who instantly scurried off to lie on a small throw rug near the sofa. “Hi, he’s exhausted.” Cal brought everything inside and set it by the door. “This is a nice place. So different from yours.”

He wasn’t wrong. Hannah’s home was inviting and cozy. Mine was large and stark. I grabbed us each a bottle of water, and we sat down on the couch. Curiosity got the best of me, so I rushed to ask what was so urgent.

Cal got up and went to his suitcase. When he came back, he handed me a turquoise envelope, a little tattered on the corners. “When you told me about that box of fan mail, I took it upon myself to look in it. I didn’t want to send it only for you to be disappointed. I knew you were stressed out.”

I nodded a couple of times and let him continue.

“You had a few marriage proposals, lots of pictures, a pair of lace thongs, which were from that high-end store, you know the one ...”

I had no clue, so I stared at him, wondering how he did, but no way I’d ask.

He snapped his fingers and announced, “La Perla.”

As if that helped me, which it didn’t.

“I didn’t see any letters from Hannah or about you being a dad, but I saw this. Didn’t want to risk sending it and knew you’d want it.”

I took the card from him, slid it out of the envelope, and smiled. On the front was a turtle who had a bandage on one of his arms. Big, bold letters at the top said, WISHING YOU A SPEEDY RECOVERY. Opening it, I skipped the preprinted part and read the handwritten words on the blank side.

Dear Mr. Jameson,

I’m sorry you got hurt. I hope you get better soon. I’m a pitcher too. Not like you because I’m only 11. My mom told me that you went to school with her. So cool. And you were the best pitcher on the team. We live in Blossom Berry Falls, Virginia. Her name is Hannah. My name is Jimmy. I heard on TV that you might not be able to play again. Total bummer. Even if that happens, you will still be my all-time favorite player. I hope to be like you one day.

Your biggest fan,

Jimmy Hall

The words blurred, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. If I’d only seen this card. Yes, I would have missed eleven years, but at least I would have known. Another wave of regret washed over me like a tidal surge—once again thinking about all the lost time, the moments I could never get back, and the absence I unknowingly left in his life.

“You okay, man?”

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