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She squeezed his hand and then turned her face forward again, not wanting to miss her son but also nervous that not only would the ladies behind her be angry if he struck out, but Bryce might think less of her as well.
After all, it was natural for human beings to love competence. It was also natural for them to shy away from incompetence. And when a person had children, the incompetence of their children reflected back on them. Their parenting skills, their genes, the way they’d been raising them. Maybe even their food choices.
People could judge a lot of things.
And that was their right, their prerogative. If that’s how they wanted to spend their lives, judging others, making nasty comments about them, that was their choice.
Even if they were directed at her.
Her worth was as a child of God, and that was her son’s worth, and Bryce’s worth as well. It wasn’t contingent upon what the ladies behind them said about him.
And maybe they just needed someone to love them, too.
It was easier for her to be strong and think about it that way when Bryce’s fingers were threaded through hers, and she felt like it was the two of them together and not her alone against the world.
Owen had come up to the plate. He swung at the first two pitches and missed both times.
“That’s the kid that couldn’t catch the ball.”
“The one that couldn’t throw it either. It’s hardly shocking that he can’t bat, either.”
Bryce couldn’t help but hear, she was sure. His fingers tightened around hers.
He shifted, and she looked at him, turning her head and meeting his eyes.
He had his mouth open like he was going to say something, but she shook her head gently and allowed a little pleading to enter her eyes.
His jaw clenched, but he closed his mouth and faced forward again, pulling her hand toward him, linking their arms together, and letting it rest on his lap.
There were still six inches between them, but she felt closer somehow.
Owen swung at the last pitch. Strike three.
She figured after the debacle in the field, he wouldn’t have the confidence to hit the ball even if he could.
Sometimes when something knocked a person’s confidence down, it was hard to get it back. Especially without help.
Bryce didn’t say anything, and neither did she. They watched another inning in silence, with Owen not making quite as many disastrous mistakes as he had with dropping the ball and throwing it backwards, but he made several mistakes that caused the ladies behind them to talk.
They said a couple of more things about Bryce, but it was pretty obvious to Peyton that Bryce was less upset about those than the comments that were made about her son.
Hopefully he realized the ladies didn’t know they were talking about her kid. Whether he did or not, he didn’t say anything, and she was grateful.
Their team was up to bat with bases loaded at the bottom of the sixth inning.
They were behind by two, and Peyton recognized the kid coming up to the plate as the one who had hit a home run at his first at bat.
He’d struck out the next time, and she was pulling for him to come back from that.
His first two pitches were balls. He stood with the bat over home plate again when the next pitch came through.
He swung at that one. The ball hit the bat with a resounding crack and flew over the home run fence.
The ladies behind them screamed, and they must have jumped to their feet in their excitement, because Peyton had been sitting there thinking that she was about ready to put on her jacket, when the ball flew over the fence, the lady screamed, and suddenly she felt wet and cold.
She jumped up, not because of excitement but because of the soda and ice that was dampening her shirt.
She yanked her hand away from Bryce’s and batted at her shirt, knowing it was pointless. She was just getting more wet and sticky as well.
