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I see him visibly deflate. “I’ll tell you everything.”
I shake my head. “Not now. Today is about Mitchell.”
He nods, suddenly looking world-weary and tired. “Okay.”
The Jacobsons show up and I see them look into the stands, so I wave. They see us and smile, and they climb up next to us as their son, Alex, runs to the dugout.
“You guys beat us here,” Katie says, as she balances a baby on her knee. Jake has a different one strapped to his chest, and a slightly older one is clutching Mr. Jacobson’s hand. Trixie and her massive dog climb up too and they sit down, side by side. Sally slurps his tongue up the side of her face, which makes her laugh.
“Well, you had more to pack,” I say lightly. “That’s why we beat you here.”
They all settle down at various points around us, and then I realize what they’ve done. They’ve formed a protective bubble around Ethan. He has no idea that’s what they’ve done. There’s one empty spot to the back left corner of the bubble, and I smile to myself as Shy stomps up the steps and takes that spot. He grabs my shoulders, gives me a squeeze, and points over my shoulder toward the field.
“That one with the curls, that’s my granddaughter,” he says.
“She’s got your smile,” I tell him.
“She’s a beautiful young lady, all right.” He beams with pride.
At the last minute, Ethan’s mother appears, looks into the stands, spots us, and climbs up. I move over to make room for her next to Ethan, but she sits on my other side and bumps me so that I scoot closer to him.
She looks around at all the people staring. She heaves out a sigh. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she suddenly says very loudly. She motions toward the field. “There’s a whole lot more to see out there.”
Embarrassed gazes jerk toward the field, obviously feeling guilty for being called out for their rude staring.
She leans toward me and says, “You’d think they’d never seen an ex-convict before with the way they’re acting.”
“Ma!” Ethan hisses.
“What?” She leans toward him. “Wear it with pride, or they’ll feed it to you with shame, son. You did your time, and now you’re out.” She motions to the field. “Don’t let any stupid gossip ruin this for Mitchell.”
And that comment—that is what pulls Ethan out of his funk.
He’s totally engrossed in the game. He occasionally calls out words like “way to watch” and “good look.” But I have no idea what any of it means.
He leans toward me. “Haven’t you ever been to a baseball game?”
“Never,” I admit.
“Why did you come?” he asks, and I can hear the uncertainty in his voice, which nearly kills me.
I give him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Because you invited me, dummy.”
Mr. Jacobson chuckles from his seat in front of us, but he doesn’t turn around.
“I’m still in like, Abigail,” Ethan says quietly.
“Me too,” I reply, and I smile at him.
It’s not until the game is over that Ethan truly tenses up. We are standing next to the fence waiting for Mitchell to come out of the after-game meeting, when a man and woman walk up. The man is red-faced and primed for a fight.
“Now, Derrick,” Ethan’s mom says, as she steps between him and the man. “This is not the time.” But Ethan reaches out his hand, holding it suspended, waiting for the man to take it. Instead, the man slaps his hand down. Ethan lets out a heavy sigh and squares his shoulders.
“Derrick,” Ethan says with a nod. Then he addresses the woman that’s holding on to the man’s arm. “Imogene. Hope you’re doing well.”
“You have some nerve coming here,” the man they called Derrick says, seething with anger.
“My son wanted me to come and watch him play ball,” Ethan explains, his voice perfectly neutral. He holds his hands out to the sides. “I don’t want any trouble.”
