Sit, Stay, Love Page 16

  Mitch nodded. “I heard about it on the radio.” He pulled at his chin, fingers scrabbling over his stubble in a gesture that she’d seen Cal use. “Hate to think of the poor dog scared or being mistreated. That’s why I’m still awake, to be honest. Been bunking in Meg’s room on an air mattress. Haven’t slept much since I heard. How did it happen?”

  “Because I wasn’t being careful,” Cal snapped. “It was completely my fault.”

  Mitch didn’t say anything.

  Cal looked at the clock, which read close to two a.m. “I’m going to go to the hospital first thing tomorrow and see Sweets. Is it okay to borrow your car again?” he said to Gina.

  She nodded.

  “You can drive over with me,” Mitch said. “Doctor’s supposed to give us a report in the morning.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Cal said.

  “No offense, but you haven’t been here, son. There’s a couple of particulars about her medicines that need clarifying. Not sure you’ll know what to ask.”

  Cal’s eyes blazed. “I haven’t been here? That’s rich coming from a guy who was AWOL for my entire life.”

  “I wasn’t dishing up guilt, just stating facts.”

  “I don’t need you to get me up to speed. I don’t need anything from you.”

  Gina wished she could drag Cal back to the car, to undo the horrible scene unrolling before her. She was not sure if she should stay or leave. It was like watching two cars collide.

  Mitch wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushing the unfinished sandwich aside. “That was a different situation and I’m not making excuses for it. Dealing with the present scenario now. You weren’t here and Oscar needed help so I stepped in. It wasn’t easy for him to accept assistance, but he did, for Sweets’s sake. Maybe you should too.”

  “I don’t have to accept anything from you.”

  Mitch sighed. “I’ve been a jerk in my life and I let down a lot of people.”

  “You got that right.”

  He stood. “But now I’m doing the right thing. I got a second chance to be a good man and I’m going to do it, even if that makes you uncomfortable. Chances like that don’t come along every day.”

  Cal folded his arms, muscles corded, jaw tight. He stared at a spot somewhere over his father’s head.

  “Anyway,” Mitch said, “I’m leaving for the hospital at eight. I’ll see you over there.” Mitch walked down the hall and she heard the soft click of the door, the squeal of the air mattress as he lay down.

  Cal stood frozen. “This is unreal. Now he’s decided to become a good man.”

  “Or at least do the right thing.”

  His head snapped in her direction. “Is that supposed to make it okay, what he did? Am I supposed to forget that he abandoned us, just because he’s decided to be noble now?”

  “Not forget.”

  “But?”

  “Maybe just allow him to do good now.”

  “I don’t trust him to do good. He’s a deadbeat.”

  She walked over and touched a hand to his chest. “And he can never change?”

  Cal remained silent, staring down at her hand. “Why would he?”

  “I don’t know him, Cal, and I didn’t suffer what you did, but I can tell you this, people can change for the better. You are not the same Cal Crawford I met in your mansion that day.”

  He looked confused. “My pitching is better. I’m back on top.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You have allowed yourself to be great,” she said with a smile. “And I’m talking about outside the baseball arena.”

  “If we’re not talking about pitching, I don’t follow.”

  She ticked off the items on her finger. “First, you decided not to leave Tippy at the pound. Second, you’ve bent over backward to do nice things for me, and third, you were incredible with those kids at beep ball.”

  His brows crinkled. “That’s just small stuff.”

  “No,” she said. “That is the big stuff, the blessings that people will never forget.”

  “Some doughnuts and pitching to kids?”

  “Yes sirree.”

  “I don’t understand some of the stuff you say, Gina, but I sure love to hear you say it.” He allowed a small smile and a huge sigh. “Sun will be up soon. You’d better get some sleep.” He carried her bag to the small room she had occupied before. “No turn-down service here, and there’s probably not much of anything in the fridge.”

  “That’s okay. I packed all the leftover doughnuts. I’ve got three in my purse.” Along with a bag of dog treats. The thought made her heart ache.

  He laughed, then shook his head, a sad smile creeping over his face. “Seems like I should see Tippy scooting down the hallway wearing those crazy socks.”

  Her eyes filled. He went to her then, arms strong and warm around her.

  “Thank you for being here,” he said, voice muffled in her hair. He nuzzled down until she felt his lips brush against her neck. “You were so good to Tippy.”

  She froze, pushing him to arm’s length. “Don’t you talk like that, Cal Crawford.”

  “Like what?”

  “As if Tippy’s not coming back.”

  He blinked. “I don’t want that to be true, but… ”

  “But what? Is that what you think?”

  “It’s just what happens.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It is with me,” he said, flinging an arm to take in the ranch. “My dad, my mom, maybe Sweets.” He exhaled and the bitter tone dropped away. “They leave me.”

  Naked grief shone in his expression.

  “Listen to me, Cal.” She reached up and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head and forcing him to look at her, her mouth close to his. “Tippy is going to come back, and I will never stop being your friend.”

  He quirked her a doubtful look. “Sure you will. When this is over. If we get Tippy back, she’ll return to my father. You’re going to go be a teacher and I’ll play ball. We will never see each other again, Gina, that’s what happens. That’s what always happens.”

  “My Nana taught me that when God gives you a friend, you hang on to them.” She stroked his cheek. “I will be your friend as long as you’ll let me, even if we’re not near each other geographically.”

  A friend? The word thrummed through her. Looking into those gleaming brown eyes her heart yearned for more from him, but she knew he could not give it. He would not put down his baseball and glove long enough to let love in, and she wouldn’t allow another man to distract her from her God-given calling to be a teacher. Famous athlete adored by millions. Dog-loving wannabe teacher who made pierogis on the side. Love couldn’t bridge those two different worlds, but friendship could.

  “My friends seem to come and go, too” he said, stroking her arm. “I sure couldn’t find many when I lost us the championship last year.”

  “I’m a better friend than that, and besides, all of your baseball glory doesn’t mean much to me.”

  He smoothed her hair with his palms. “No? Because my pitching is fierce at the moment, but you never know about tomorrow.”

  “What do I care if your screwball goes bad?”

  Slowly, a wide smile crept over his face and he laughed in a way that almost filled up the too-silent corners of the old house.

  Eighteen

  The next morning Gina stumbled into the kitchen to find a note on the table with her name on it. The house was still and she realized Mitch and Cal must have left for the hospital. Her car was gone. Cal had been unwilling to ride with his father.

  Heard from Sg. Lopez. They questioned Tom Peterson and searched his home/van. No sign of Tippy. He says he had nothing to do with it. So does Harvey the Falcon. People have been calling the tip line like crazy, but no hits so far. They’ll keep looking. Falcons have offered a $5,000 reward. I’ll keep you posted.

  Her heart sank with each word. No Tippy. Was it the same scenario as it was when people went missing? When each day, each precious ho
ur meant it was less likely the victim would be found unharmed? She swallowed hard and forced herself to go take a shower. The hot water did not chase the worries away. Tippy. Sweets. Cal being in close proximity to his father. Cal would need to go back soon and so would she. What if there was still no word about Tippy?

  The ringing of the phone made her turn off the water, wrap herself in a towel, and splash down the hallway as fast as she could go. It was the police. She knew it. Snatching up the phone, she swiped the wet hair out of her face.

  A cheerful female voice chattered into the receiver.

  Somewhere around the fourth sentence, her brain activated properly. “Did you say hot dogs?” she repeated.

  The voice on the other line paused. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were Sweets. I was double checking the barbecue situation for today’s practice game at the ranch.”

  “Practice?” At the ranch?

  “Oh, wait. I guess Sweets didn’t tell you. Can I speak to her?”

  Gina explained the situation to Jennifer, who she finally remembered meeting at the beep ball practice. Sweets must have not informed everyone of her illness so Gina did, keeping the details to a minimum.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jennifer said. “I hadn’t heard. We’ll cancel, of course. If I call right now I can get everyone on the phone probably. Some of them are coming from quite a ways so I’ll have to hurry.”

  Another defeat. All those little kids amped up about their first “real” practice at the ranch only to have it all cancelled. Sweets and Oscar would move mountains to keep that from happening. But what could she do to change that? Alone and barely able to make toast, without even a car to fetch groceries.

  “No,” Gina heard herself say. “There’s no need to disappoint the kids.”

  “But how can we do this without Sweets?”

  “Don’t worry. You just bring plenty of volunteers and we’ll provide the food, just like Sweets told you.”

  “We?”

  “Um, yeah. We’ve got some helpers around here somewhere.” If one counted Potato Chip the horse and a grumpy cat. “When did you say you were coming?”

  “Noon. But really, maybe it isn’t a good idea. Oscar was really excited to set up this practice game, but we can reschedule for another time.”

  “Not necessary,” she said. “Noon it is.”

  “All right, if you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely. I’m totally positive. Lunch at Six Peaks Ranch, practice game to follow at two o’clock sharp.” Gina hung up the phone and checked the time again. Nine o’clock. In exactly three hours a team of hungry eight-year-olds, their parents, and a truckload of siblings would be coming to the ranch to enjoy a game and the culinary delights of Gina Palmer.

  “Okay,” she said. “We can do this.” Feeling a ripple of determination mixed with terror, she squelched back to her room to find some clothes.

  Cal paced the hospital lobby until Oscar arrived with Mitch.

  “Son, there was no need for you to come,” Oscar said. “Sweets is gonna pitch a fit when she hears you left spring training.”

  “Let her,” Cal said. “You should have told me.” He would have added to his lambasting, but Oscar looked tired, old. What scared him the most was the expression of unchecked worry on his unshaven face.

  They took the elevator upstairs.

  “I’m going to grab us some coffee,” Mitch said. “Be back in a minute.”

  When he left, Oscar smoothed his scruff of hair. “Before you start in, I don’t like taking help from Mitch any more than you would, but fact is I can’t drive and they won’t let me stay the night so I gotta get back and forth. Mitch called me up, dunno how he got wind of it, but there wasn’t anybody else who could do it so easily and Sweets said she didn’t want the church people waiting on us hand and foot. Only got twenty people in the congregation, and they’re busy trying to help the pastor’s family ’cuz their baby came three months early.”

  “I wasn’t going to criticize you for letting my dad help.”

  “You were thinkin’ it, I can hear it in your voice. Anyway, don’t bust my chops. Feel bad enough I can’t drive my own wife where she needs to go. Makes a man feel old. Useless.”

  Like a pitcher who can’t throw. Cal’s anger died away. “No busting chops. Tell me about Sweets.”

  “Dumbest thing,” he said. “She fell over a rake in the garden and broke her ankle. While she’s been lying here in the hospital, she got the pneumonia.”

  “How serious?”

  “Serious enough,” he said.

  Mitch returned with cups of coffee, which Cal declined. After a deep breath, Cal followed his uncle into the hospital room.

  Sweets was sleeping. Cal was struck by how small she looked, how fragile. The antiseptic smell of the room, the bland beige walls, sent him reeling back to his mother’s long battle with breast cancer. The same feelings of helplessness and despair welled up.

  Sweets opened her eyes. “Is that Cal?” she said, blinking. “I must be dreaming.”

  Mitch handed her the eyeglasses on the little table and she put them on.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s me.”

  She shot a poisonous look at Mitch. “Well, I see someone has spilled the beans.”

  Mitch had the decency to look chagrined.

  “You should not have left spring training, Cal Forrest Crawford. That was a reckless and unnecessary thing to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come here, boy, and let me get my hugs since you’ve been foolish enough to come.”

  He bent down and put his arms around her spindly shoulders, pressed a kiss on her papery cheek, and fought to keep the worry from his face.

  “What’s this I hear about Tippy?”

  Cal shook his head. “You heard that already?”

  “I can’t stand that dog, but if she’s not returned so help me I will get out of this bed, drive to Scottsdale, and find her myself. Your mother loved her.” She sniffed. “And, truth is, I guess I didn’t exactly hate her either.”

  Cal took her hand. “We’ll find her. You concentrate on getting well.”

  She sighed. “Might be easier for me to take up professional baseball. You guys need a catcher?”

  “You’re a fighter, Sweets. You’re going to beat this, just like you beat everything else.” He desperately needed to hear the certainty in her voice, the spirit.

  “I’m not sure this time, Cal,” she said, crushing his heart a little bit more.

  He grabbed her hand. “God, please take care of Sweets.” At first he hadn’t realized he’d said the words out loud, until a look of wonder washed over her face.

  “My sweet boy,” she said in a whisper. “That is the best medicine I could ever be given.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes and he went alternately cold then hot. Had he really prayed? Had God heard? He wasn’t sure. All he could do was stand there dumbly and hold onto his aunt’s hand as if he were an eight-year-old child again.

  The doctor came in to conduct the exam and the three men stepped into the hallway. When the report came, it was not encouraging.

  “She’s weakened from all the chemo treatments and we’re having trouble getting a handle on the infection,” the doctor said. “We’ve started a new, more powerful antibiotic, but it’s our last option.”

  “Could she get better care at another hospital? A private facility?” Cal blurted.

  The doctor arched an eyebrow. “She’s getting stellar care here, Mr. Crawford. We’re one of the top medical facilities in Northern California, believe it or not.”

  “I’m sure she is,” he said, realizing he’d offended. “I apologize. I’m just worried about her. I want to help in some way.”

  “The next few days will be critical, and when she does go home… ” he eyed Uncle Oscar. “She will need care. A nursing home, perhaps.”

  “No,” Oscar growled. “No nursing home. No way.”

  “I understand you live in a very small trailer,” the
doctor said to Oscar. “That’s going to be hard for your wife to get around. She’ll be using a walker for a while and you’ve got some front steps, I understand.”

  “I’ll put in a ramp. It will be okay.”

  “At the minimum, she’ll need nursing care, physical therapy at the hospital, so there will be plenty of driving back and forth required. Can you provide that?”

  Oscar’s mouth worked, stark helplessness in his grimace. “I’ll do it. Somehow.”

  Inwardly Cal groaned. He would not want to insult his uncle for the world, but how could he make sure Sweets got the care she needed? They thanked the doctor and he left. The three of them stood in silence.

  “Uncle Oscar,” Cal said. “You’ve got to let me help.”

  “No nursing home,” he snapped. “Just like I said. I’m going to take care of her.”

  “All right. Then you both come and live at the ranch for a while until she’s better. I will hire in-home nursing care.”

  “I don’t need your money and I won’t take charity.”

  Cal ground his teeth. “It’s not charity. You are my family. You taught me to play baseball. You and Sweets are the reason I got my shot in the majors.”

  “You’re my son. That’s why we care for you,” Oscar huffed. “Sorry, Mitch, but I always thought of him that way.”

  “You were more of a father than I ever was,” Mitch said.

  “A father doesn’t expect to be paid back for loving his kid. It’s not like a transaction.”

  “I know.” Cal prayed, in that moment, for a small measure of his mother’s empathy and tact. “Please come stay at the ranch and let me hire a nurse, not because I owe you, but… ” he gulped. “Because I love you.”

  Oscar’s cheeks reddened. “I appreciate that son, but what’s next? You gonna retrofit the ranch? Hire me a driver?”

  “If you need it.”

  “Don’t need outsiders doing my job. I’m her husband and I’m gonna take care of her. Not outsiders, hear me, Cal?”

  “Then I’ll do it.”

  “You can’t. You gotta contract.”

  “I’ll break it. I’ll walk away.”