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“If you think you’re ready.” Gabe moved the tee to the side and threw the ball to Jake. “Hang on, though. I want to tell you something.”
Jesse let the end of the bat rest lightly on the ground, turning back to look at Gabe.
“Hitting a ball that’s moving through the air is much harder than hitting one that’s on the tee, waiting for you. Don’t be surprised if you miss it, or it doesn’t go where you want it to.”
“Okay.”
“And just remember that if you keep practicing, you’ll get better, just like today, yeah?” Jesse nodded eagerly and got into position. Jake threw the ball fairly lightly and exactly as Gabe had predicted, Jesse swung and missed it by a mile. “See what I mean? It’s a lot harder, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got all the mechanics right, though, so just keep watching the ball and you’ll hit it eventually.”
Feeling my stomach growl, I said, “I’m gonna make some snacks.”
“Great idea.” Another smile from Gabe, another squeezing of my heart. God, how many was that today?
There was a narrow sliding door that connected the living room to the back deck that offered a great view of the yard. Even working in the kitchen, I could see what was going on outside. Over the next half hour, while I made garlic pizzas, it was pretty much swinging and missing or merely grazing the ball and dumping it at his feet. But to his credit, Jesse kept his temper and his commitment. In fact, he was relentless.
It was all a perfect distraction from the clawing fear that was lurking at the edge of my mind and I was incredibly grateful for it. For Gabe, and for Jesse.
I came back into the yard with cans of soda and the pizzas, just in time to hear Jake say; “Kid, I’m not gonna be able to move this arm tomorrow.” Jake groaned, rubbing at his shoulder, hamming up the pain.
Jesse grinned.
“I’ll pitch, if you’re too exhausted,” I said with a cheeky smile.
“Be my guest. Show us what you’ve got.”
“Eat up, Jesse. You’ll need your energy for what I’m about to give you.”
He giggled around a mouthful of garlic pizza and when we were properly fuelled again, I took the ball from Jake and went to the middle of the yard.
“You ready?”
Jesse nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said with a giggle.
“Right. Here goes.” I turned sideways, lifted my leg in a typical pitcher’s stance, and threw the ball. It must have been just the right weight for Jesse because he connected with it perfectly, sending it arcing high over my head to Jake.
“Is that the best you’ve got?”
“Trash talk from a third grader. Are you serious? That was just a warmup, buddy.”
The next pitch was a little faster and Jesse mistimed it. The same thing happened with the next few hits. Scratching his chin, Jake said, “You’re so close, bud. It’s just that your timing is the tiniest bit off. What about if your dad tells you exactly when to swing, so you don’t have to try and figure it out?”
“Okay.”
“Great pitching, Ally.”
“Aw, thanks!” I took the ball from Jake, got into my pitcher’s stance and let fly. Unfortunately, Gabe was maybe a little distracted. I mean, Iwaswearing a tight little shirt that experience told me he quite liked. He completely forgot to let Jesse know when to swing, so the ball sailed right past and thwacked Gabe in the chest.
“Fu— fudge!”
“Eyes on the ball, Walker.” I couldn’t help but grin.
