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She and Parker sat in the run-down dugout of the field. Ninth Street was one of Folsom’s many community parks, ranking among the less nurtured. The game didn’t play for nine innings. Rather, it continued until the girls on the field lost interest and formed a small cluster by third base, where they giggled and watched the boys.
The boys continued to perform and compete. They strutted like young peacocks for their female counterparts, and for every bit of fanfare their efforts were well rewarded with chortles and flirtatious finger waves.
Scout smiled at the display, envying it for the natural promenade it was. No matter how old she grew, she would always envy the secure freedom of regular children at play, something she never experienced on her own but always watched longingly from a distance.
When the game seemed to conclude, even the boys putting aside their gloves and bats to join the clusters of girls hanging in the outfield, Parker stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”
They walked along the path that bordered a pond. The breeze was stronger there, and Parker quietly slipped off his tweed jacket and slid it over her shoulders. They crossed a small bridge and stopped at the center to watch a gaggle of mallards swim by.
“The ducks will be having their babies soon,” Parker commented.
Scout adored seeing the new ducklings each spring. She always found it impressive that in the rush of the city, when a mother duck led her ducklings across a road, everyone stopped until the last little webfooted balls of fluff safely marched to the other side.
They followed the trail until it led them back to the ballpark. The sun was setting behind the trees, and the children were all gone.
“Are you hungry?” Parker asked.
“Sure.”
“Come on.”
He took her hand and led her out of the park. She wasn’t sure why she allowed him to hold her hand, but his lead excused her from thinking, and she welcomed his direction, found comfort in handing over control.
They walked to a middle-class section of Folsom, where several schools were located. The streets were cast in a late afternoon glow as the sun took up space somewhere behind the buildings that stunted the horizon.
“This looks good,” Parker said as they arrived at a church.
Scout smiled. It had been a while since they’d done anything like this, but she knew the drill. They entered the small church, and in the basement voices echoed as parishioners gathered and enjoyed a weekend potluck. A man with receding gray hair greeted them.
“Hello, welcome to Our Lady of Grace. I’m Pastor Dan.”
Parker placed his arm over her shoulders and extended his hand. “Hello, Pastor. I’m Parker and this is Scout.”
“Nice to meet you.” After shaking Parker’s hand he reached for hers. She shook. “You’re welcome to help yourself. Plates are over there, and feel free to walk around and meet the flock. In about an hour we’ll be holding a casual service upstairs. All are welcome.”
They nodded their thanks and made up plates. There were various home-cooked dishes sitting out in mismatched containers. Once their plates were filled, they found seats between two older women who asked various questions, some a bit intrusive about their relationship and some as simple as what they thought the weather would be tomorrow.
After everyone seemed to fill their bellies, Pastor Dan made an announcement, and the parishioners cleared their plates and moved to the upstairs of the church.
“Did you want to stay for the service?” Parker whispered as they tossed their plates.
Scout shrugged. It was expected, but no one would stop them from leaving if they chose to go, seeing it as being “Christianly” to share food with those hungry.
They quietly slipped out the side door just as a choir began to sing. It was amusing to her that they’d just found a good meal the way they used to, without spending a dollar. Especially since she now had a bank account holding hundreds of thousands of dollars, and Parker had a closetful of suits and had money as well.
Her jaw tightened at the reminder of the money Lucian put aside for her. Was that the price of his guilt? The price of her? No matter how far she’d fallen, her pride was worth more than the temptation of the money. She’d never touch a cent of it. It was ugly and offensive, and she hated him a little more for leaving it to her.
The sun set, and the sidewalks were no longer as congested. Scout pulled Parker’s jacket tight over her chest. “We should probably get back. It’s getting cold.”
He nodded and, without comment, they strolled in the direction of the apartment. At about a block away, his hand casually slipped into hers again and squeezed.
Scout still didn’t know what to make of this new, affectionate side of Parker. Perhaps he was only reacting to her outward breakdown. They had always been so respectful of each other’s personal space, but Parker seemed to be purposefully putting an end to the way things used to be. Again, she chased the thought away, needing this momentary reprieve from her mind.
