AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Seated on thebleachers despite the heat, Keely watched the end of the baseball camp later that day. Something in Nate’s voice when he’d talked about it over breakfast had told her how much the camp had come to mean to him. It was obvious he didn’t need her there, but if there was any chance that he’d invited her because it was special to him, she wasn’t about to ignore the invitation. So, once she’d finished with the smallest patch of sunflowers, an early yield variety that were ready sooner than the rest, she’d driven over to the school. Now, she watched Nate coach some of the older kids in an abbreviated game. She’d chosen a secluded part of the bleachers, grateful that many of the parents seemed to have moved inside the air-conditioned school by this point of the day.
On the field, he coached third while his team was at bat, talking to the runner who’d just stolen the base, no doubt reminding the boy of all his options for plays once the next pitch was thrown. Too bad life wasn’t like that, with a coach at all the landmarks to talk you through what might happen next.
For five years, she’d avoided reminders of Nate, and that included putting baseball mostly out of her life, save for one or two notable weak moments, like when she’d driven to San Antonio to watch him play. But she’d loved softball every bit as much as he’d enjoyed baseball when they were younger. Maybe more because for her, sports had been an escape from her homelife. For Nate, baseball had been a round-the-clock family expectation. It had never been enough for him to be good—to win local championships with his team or earn an athletic scholarship. The pressure had always been to play at a major league level. A pressure he still seemed to feel. She wondered sometimes if it was still really his dream, or just a need to wear the family mantle.
On the field, the base runner on third got his secondary lead. It wasn’t unreasonably far from the bag given his speed. She’d seen the kid steal third, after all. But he made the mistake of squaring his shoulders toward the catcher.
Nothing invited throws down the third base line quite like that. She’d been a catcher. She knew.
Sure enough the runner had to scramble to get back, dust kicking up from his quick shift. Despite his speed, that extra moment of pivoting one hundred and eighty degrees cost him. He was tagged out, costing his team a run that could have tied the game. Dejected, the kid looked ready to throw his helmet on the way back to the dugout when Nate intercepted him. Slinging an arm over the player’s shoulder, he had a talk with him that started off serious and—from his body language—seemed to end with a demonstration about keeping shoulders squared to the field rather than telegraphing his move to the catcher.
The player nodded, listening intently, and it warmed Keely’s heart to see how skillfully Nate rerouted the play into a teachable moment. She knew his dad hadn’t been as supportive with any of his kids’ mistakes on the field, robbing Nate of a lot of joy in the game and in his accomplishments.
It surprised her that the elder Ramsey was nowhere in sight. Even at the minor league game she’d watched in San Antonio, Clint Ramsey had been visible. He’d circulated among the other Last Stand attendees in a section of the field he’d reserved for them, shaking his head in disappointment every time a strike sailed past his son.
As if taking a pitch was a crime. It had ticked her off that night, but she hadn’t thought about that game much since it had ended with her darting out of the stadium fast so Nate wouldn’t spot her.
This time, she raised her arm to wave as they called the game. More parents were arriving to pick up their kids, and she had the feeling Nate would be swarmed by parents. But instead, his face lit up when he saw her and he charged up the bleachers, taking them two at a time, dodging people seated below her in the stands.
Pleasure curled through her at the way he zeroed in on her, singling her out in a public way. It felt nice, not just because she was starting to care about him again more than was wise, but also because she was used to being on the sidelines in their community. Her father’s behavior hadn’t endeared her family to many.
But having Nate’s eyes warm at the sight of her counterbalanced the people who made a practice of avoiding her. Her heart fluttered as he reached her and dropped onto the bleacher seat in front of her, looking up at her.
“You came.” He took her hands in his and squeezed.
His injured palm was still well wrapped, but there were subtle movements in the fingers now. A reminder that he wouldn’t be in Last Stand that much longer.
But even that sobering thought couldn’t quite steal the happiness she felt at being around him. She needed to enjoy it while she could. Enjoy the moment, the way he’d encouraged her to.
“I did,” she said simply. “I wanted to see how you handled keeping seventy-five kids entertained for the day.”
“Our final count was eighty-two.” The note of pride in his voice was well deserved. “And it’s a good thing I had a lot of help from Ty and Coach Jansen, or I wouldn’t have made it through the first hour.”
“Really?” She noticed he hadn’t let go of her hands yet. “Were the kids rowdy?”
“The kids were great.” A shadow crossed his face as he scowled. “But my dad showed up, insisting the camp become a Ramsey family undertaking, with him getting star billing of course, because his career was so much more notable than mine.”
She had to bite her tongue to keep the first words that came to mind to herself.How dare he.
“No wonder you don’t come home to Last Stand much anymore,” she said instead. “It can’t be easy being around him.”
Nate’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I don’t let him keep me away. Dad’s a blowhard, but I can deal with him.” He glanced down to where their hands were linked, then lifted his gaze back to her. “I’ve stayed away out of respect for you, more than anything.”
“Me?” She hated to think he’d spent less time with his family—his mother, mainly—because of her. “I know we ended things badly, but I hope you won’t ever let our relationship keep you from coming here whenever you want. Last Stand is your home.” She gestured toward the parking lot where half the locals seemed to stand around shooting the breeze as they packed up baseball gear or loaded kids into vans. “You’re well loved.”
A siren from downtown blared loudly, causing the small crowd left in the stands to look up for a moment. Keely and Nate both turned toward the sound too, but there were too many trees even from their vantage point on the bleachers, to see the firehouse.
Nate’s palm moved to her bare knee. “Thank you for that. I’d like coming back more. Maybe that will be easier now that the camp is taking off. I’d like to keep it going—”
Whatever he was saying was lost as a woman’s scream sounded from below the bleachers. A sudden, terrified shriek that quieted them and everyone else within hearing range.
Glancing down to the ground for the source of the sound, Keely spotted Alexis near the concession stand, clutching her phone, white-faced.
“Alexis?” She was already standing, her sisterly intuition telling her something was wrong. Had it been Alexis who screamed?
Eyes wild and unfocused, it took Alexis a moment to see her.
“It’s your flowers, Keely,” Alexis shouted in a strained voice, her fingers flexing around the screen in her hand. “The fields are on fire.”
