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“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry. I so did not mean to do that.”
The lady behind her was sincere. Peyton could tell as she turned and looked at her. Her eyes were big, her hand covered her mouth as she looked at Peyton’s soaked shirt.
“It’s okay,” Peyton heard herself say. She was a little bit tempted to lash out at the lady, to talk about her, or rake her over the coals for the way she had talked about Owen and Bryce.
But that wasn’t giving grace. It wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t living the way Jesus lived. It was living according to her flesh, living the way she felt, instead of what she knew to be right.
“I didn’t realize the lid was loose, honestly, and I forgot all about it sitting in my lap—”
“It’s okay,” Peyton insisted, with her hand up, stopping the lady from saying anymore. “We all make mistakes. Everybody has accidents. That home run was pretty exciting anyway.”
“That was my son!” the lady said, barely containing her pride.
“That’s great. I’m sure he’s probably one of the boys on the team that my son looks up to.”
The lady beamed, nodding. She glanced at Bryce, and maybe there was a little bit of derision in her eyes, but not quite as much. He had turned and was watching them, and while the lady’s eyes widened at his face, she didn’t make any comments.
Instead, she turned back to Peyton and said, “Which one is yours?”
“The one that dropped the first flyball,” Peyton said, her chin lifted. She kept a smile on her face and reminded herself that Jesus loved this woman, and no matter what her response was, she would not be offended.
She would not be offended, and she would try to love.
Her heart beat hard though, and her stomach clenched and unclenched, like her fist wanted to do.
Not because she was still tempted to hit the woman, but she needed a release for her nervous energy.
Was the woman going to call her names and blame her for the fact that the team was behind?
“Has he ever played ball before?” the woman asked, blinking, as she remembered exactly who her son was.
“No. He and I have spent some time behind my shop pitching the ball back and forth, and we practice batting a little in the park. But I’m a single mom, and his dad is not in the picture, and I don’t know anything about baseball.”
“That’s too bad. It looks like he needs a little bit of help.”
Peyton bit her tongue and nodded her head, her smile feeling a little strange, but it was still there. “This is his first game. I know he was nervous.”
“Maybe I’ll talk to my son about helping him some.”
“That would be sweet.”
The lady nodded, and Peyton turned back around and sat down, sitting a little closer to Bryce in order to avoid the ice and soda that was now on the bench beside her.
Bryce didn’t say anything, and the game ended without any more excitement. Their team won by two runs.
Peyton smiled and nodded at the ladies as they filed off the bleachers. Then she and Bryce stood facing each other.
She couldn’t leave until Owen had gone in and the coach talked to the team.
Bryce watched the women walk away before he spoke. “What did they mean about Owen dropping the ball?”
She explained what happened, and he nodded, his eyes dark.
“You handled that really well. I... I was ashamed of my thoughts after I saw how you acted.”
“You would have been ashamed of my thoughts as well. Because I was thinking how nice it would be to turn around and grab them by the throat to knock their heads together, but that was mostly when they were talking about Owen and how he didn’t deserve to be on the field and then later when they were talking about you.”
“Harsh.”
