A Great Catch (10 page)

Yanking off his cap, he knocked it against his thigh and jammed it back on his head. “All right, boys, let’s play ball!”

As the afternoon sun swung high into the sky, Carter’s stomach began to protest. Based on the slow response of the outfielders, he knew he wasn’t the only one ready for lunch. With a wave of his arm, he called them in and watched his team file off the field. Muttering under their breath, they headed toward Manhattan Beach without waiting to see if he planned to have lunch with them.

Only Ducky remained. Carter’s best friend downed a dipper of water from the Red Wing crock they’d brought along, then wiped his wet mouth on the sleeve of his jersey. “The boys had a point.”

“Not you too. I’ve about had enough!” Carter yanked off his hat, took the dipper, and poured its contents over his head. Water streamed over him, cooling his face but not his temper. He shook his head, and water splattered into the air.

Ducky jumped back. “Hey!”

With a sigh, Carter sank onto the bench. “Sorry.”

“For what part? Getting me wet or getting angry at me because I think the boys had a point?” Ducky tossed a baseball into the air.

“Both.”

“I reckon if you’re going to teach her to play, you might need some help.”

“But you said—”

“I said they had a point—not that I agree with it.”

“And you’re willing to help?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for lost causes.”

“Is that a fact?”

“I’m friends with you, aren’t I?”

Carter chuckled and then grew silent. Whippoorwills called from the trees, and the sun beat down on his head. Truth gnawed at his gut. “I couldn’t tell Emily no. She wants this game so much.”

“That’s why she offered to play?”

His lips curled and he stood. “Nope. That part was my idea.”

Ducky lifted an eyebrow.

“If you spent one evening with her aunts as chaperones, you’d understand why I jumped at the chance to see her without them around.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Carter picked up the baseball bats and stowed them in a gunny sack. “Besides, it will be fun to see how she does when she’s not calling all the shots.”

Ducky drew his hand down the sides of his mustache. “For some reason, I don’t think your little suffragist would like the sound of that.”

Slinging the gunny sack over his shoulder, Carter grinned. “Trust me. It’s for her own good.”

After exiting the streetcar in Council Bluffs’ Haymarket Square, Emily waited while Lilly disembarked with ten-month-old Levi in her arms. Storefronts with one, two, and three stories stretched the length of Main Street. The steady clopping of horses’ hooves on the paved brick streets mingled with the voices of the patrons on the sidewalk.

Lilly bounced her squirming baby. “When did you say your grandmother and brother were meeting you for lunch?”

“In about an hour. At noon.”

“Good. Then we have enough time to get you a few baseball-playing essentials.”

The mention of baseball set Emily’s nerves tingling. “Like?”

“A sensible pair of shoes.” She plopped Levi on her hip and strolled down the sidewalk. “Do you even own a pair of laced-up Oxfords?”

“What do you call these?” Emily paused and lifted her skirt to display her bow-topped shoes.

“They have heels.”

“Of course they do.”

“Do you plan on running in those?”

Emily dropped her skirt, and they resumed walking. “Guess they do make it hard.”

“Let’s stop in at Ben’s office. He lets me keep a pram in the back room. We’ll have a little time to shop before lunch.”

Shielding her eyes against the sun, Emily scanned the street for Lilly’s husband’s law office. The building, one of the newest, featured gothic brickwork and arched windows. Five years ago, she’d have never guessed Lilly would marry into one of the city’s most influential families.

Lilly tickled Levi under his chubby chin. “If we’re lucky, Ben will offer to keep this little wiggle worm while we shop.”

“How likely is that?”

“It depends on if he has any pending cases. Between his father and the railroad, there’s always something going on.”

“You’ve done so well fitting into his world. Has it been hard?”

Lilly switched Levi to her other hip. “Yes and no. For example, I find it hard to turn over my Levi to anyone else’s care even though he has a perfectly wonderful nurse. Of course, Ben’s mother handpicked her. She couldn’t let me do something so important.”

Emily smiled at the sarcasm in Lilly’s voice.

Levi pulled on the brim of Lilly’s hat, and she pried his chubby fingers free. “I simply like having him with me. And it’s been hard to go from being Marguerite’s maid to having maids of my own, but people are people. They want the same things.”

“Like?”

“To love and be loved.”

“What about the people who only want to make a difference in the world? The people who are willing to forgo their own needs for the good of mankind?”

“Or womankind?” Lilly gave her a sidelong glance and opened the door to Ben’s office. “If you get right down to it, they still want to be loved.”

“I’m not sure a person can always have both.”

An hour later, with Levi sleeping in the pram and new shoes purchased, Emily and Lilly went their separate ways to their lunch appointments. Emily hurried to the restaurant Martin had suggested. Inside, he and Grandma Kate waited at a table in the center of the dining room.

Martin drew Emily into a warm embrace. “How’s my little sister?”

Emily swatted his arm, then bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek before sitting down beside her brother. “Have the two of you been having a nice chat?”

Grandma Kate laid her crinkled hand on Martin’s arm. “It’s been good to catch up. With your father away, Martin’s been so busy I’ve hardly talked to him.”

“I’ll second that.” Emily smoothed her napkin across her lap.

Within minutes, a waitress appeared and took their order. No one needed a menu. While not as fancy as Louie’s
poisson en papillote
on Lake Manawa’s Manhattan Beach, the Main Street Café’s pot roast, complete with carrots and potatoes, couldn’t be trumped. Soon the three of them were feasting on generous portions and chatting between bites.

Martin pointed to Emily with his fork. “Grandma tells me you’re planning an exhibition game with Chicago’s Bloomer Girls.”

“I am. The Manawa Owls have agreed to play against them.”

“And she says you’ve elicited the support of your club and contacted the team manager to arrange the whole thing. Very impressive.”

“Thank you. Now I simply need to find a business to sponsor their traveling expenses.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I should have guessed you had a reason to request lunch with your big brother.”

“It’s a hundred dollars. If Daddy were here, I’m sure he’d offer to cover it.” She speared a carrot and popped it into her mouth.

“But he’s not.” Martin steepled his fingers over the remnants of his pot roast. “I’m not certain this is a viable business venture. If some men find out our company supported your suffrage association’s game, they might be inclined to stop doing business with me.”

“Martin,” Grandma Kate said as firmly as a schoolmarm.

“Someone has to tell her. Dad gives into her whims at the drop of a hat.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, do you have to be so difficult? This is important to her.” Grandma Kate turned to Emily. “I’ll give you the money. When do you need it?”

Martin slammed his napkin on the table hard enough to make the water in the glasses ripple. “Don’t make me the bad guy. The company isn’t doing that well, and I daresay neither are you. Have you looked at your finances recently?”

Emily blinked. Was her grandmother in trouble? Carter hadn’t said anything.

“As I told you before, that discrepancy is being handled with the bank. It’s none of your concern.” Grandma Kate broke off a piece of bread. “I’ll hear no more of it. Now, Emily, tell Martin the rest of the story about the game. He’ll be proud of you.”

Martin’s eyebrows furrowed. “There’s more?”

“She’s going to play with the Manawa Owls.” Her grandmother smiled proudly.

His eyes narrowed. “Play what?”

“Baseball, of course.”

“Emily? Our Emily? She can’t walk a straight line, let alone run bases.” He laughed and appeared to wait for his grandmother to join him. She didn’t. “Who are you kidding, sis? The only thing you can throw is a fit. Tell me how you got into this. I’ll take care of it and get you out. No need to make a fool of yourself publicly.”

“I’m going to do this.” Emily pushed back from the table, opened the chatelaine purse clipped to her belt, and withdrew a dollar. She tossed it in the center of the table.

Martin grabbed her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m buying lunch, as I’m certain you don’t have enough money for that either.” She yanked her arm away and turned to her grandmother. “I’ll meet you at Bayliss Park, Grandma. I need some air.”

Grandma Kate nodded. “I imagine you do.”

Kate watched her granddaughter exit the café, then released a long sigh. “You hurt Emily’s feelings.”

“I’m only trying to protect her. Someone has to.” Martin downed a glass of water.

“Protect her from whom?” Kate laid a wrinkled hand on his arm. “She’s an adult now. Not your little sister. She has dreams. They’re real. She puts her heart and soul into everything she does—especially this fight for women to have the right to vote. But this time, she has another reason to do this as well.”

“Such as?”

“Carter Stockton.”

“She fancies him?” He laughed, long and hard. “You’re kidding.”

“No, but I believe he did the fancying first.”

“Carter? But Grandma, how could that be possible? He’s—”

“Not another word, Martin.” She folded her napkin and set it beside her plate. “Let her become the woman God intends her to be, and stop trying to make her back into your little sister.”

Even though Emily prayed for rain, bright sunshine and perfect temperatures greeted her as she stepped out of the cabin. A goldfinch landed on the grass in front of her and tipped his tufted head. He too probably thought she looked ridiculous wearing dark blue bloomers gathered at the knees. They showed off her black stockings and the laced-up Oxfords she’d purchased with Lilly yesterday. Perhaps she should change back into a skirt, then at least she’d have an excuse when she tripped.

Martin was right. She had no business doing this.

“Emily,” Aunt Millie called across the lawn. “Come join me for breakfast.”

She pressed a hand to her quivering stomach. The girls often complained of having butterflies. Hers were more like big, hairy moths. Maybe toast would settle the queasiness. Then again, so would an unexpected thunderstorm, which would prevent her from meeting Carter to begin practicing. As she made her way to the outdoor table, she glanced toward the sky and sighed.

Not a cloud in sight.

God was not listening.

“Don’t you look sporty,” Aunt Millie said, pouring her a cup of tea. “I asked for tea this morning. I didn’t feel like coffee. I hope that’s all right.”

“Perfect.” Emily sat down and sipped from the cup her aunt poured.

A few minutes later, Britta sauntered over. “Everyone else has already eaten, but if you’re ready, I’ll bring you some pancakes hot off the griddle.”

Emily stifled a moan. Imagining the heavy flapjacks sitting in her stomach like a weight—a dead weight—made her even more nauseous. “I think I’ll just have toast.”

Britta scowled. “Do you think a piece of toast is going to hold you over if Mr. Stockton has you running around bases all morning?”

“I’ll take an apple with me too.”

“At least I’ve got the picnic lunch packed you wanted.” She clicked her tongue and returned to the kitchen inside the cabin.

Aunt Millie leaned closer. “Dear, I’m glad we have a few minutes alone. I bought you something, and it arrived yesterday.”

“Aunt Millie, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, but I had to do something.” She dug in her pocket and removed a tin. She held it out like a prize on her crinkled hand for Emily to see the label. “I ordered it from the catalog before you met Carter, and now that you have, I do believe there’s all the more reason to use it.”

Heat infused Emily’s cheeks. “Aunt Millie, that’s—”

“Sears Bust Food for, uh, enlargement of the bust. A wonderful blessing for a girl like you that isn’t as endowed as some.”

“You expect me to use that?”

“Absolutely, dear. You have to understand the male of our species. Your uncle Josef had quite a fondness for my ample bosom. You see here, it says it is ‘unrivaled for feeding and developing the bust, arms, and neck.’”

Emily swallowed hard. What was she going to do with this? She couldn’t refuse a gift, but this was no ordinary gift. And while she wasn’t as voluptuous as some of the girls in the club, she certainly wasn’t a flat-chested schoolgirl in need of Aunt Millie’s bust food.

Britta returned, and Aunt Millie thrust the tin onto Emily’s lap. Quickly she slipped it into the pocket of her bloomers seconds before Britta set a plate of buttered toast on the table.

“I packed a good lunch for you and the young Mr. Stockton. Fried chicken, biscuits, apples, and chocolate cake. Now, Miss Emily, you let Mr. Stockton choose first. I don’t know if he’s a breast man or a leg man.”

Emily spewed tea across the table and covered it with a series of coughs. “I’m sorry. I choked.”

Aunt Millie patted her hand. “It’s okay, dear. It’s all this talk about b—”

“Baseball,” Emily said. “It’s because I’m so nervous about my first practice.”

Her aunt’s eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, dear. Whatever you say.”

“You want me to say what?” Emily stared at Carter. They stood beside first base on the Owls’ field, where he tossed a ball in one hand, a smug expression on his face.

Anger simmered inside her. He was out of his mind. She didn’t care if she needed his Manawa Owls to play the Bloomer Girls’ team, she was not going to repeat the “o” word to him or anyone else.

“It’s for your own safety.” His arms now barred his chest like a fortress. “I need to know you’re going to listen to me out here.”

“I already told you I’ll listen.”

“Not good enough.” His voice dropped deeper. “You don’t say it, you don’t play.”

She could finish the unspoken words herself. This was his world, and the cocky athlete wanted her to know he was in charge. If she didn’t play, then his team didn’t play. Without an opposing team, there’d be no game.

Her willingness to do anything for the cause wavered. This was asking too much. But a fraction of a second before opening her mouth, she stopped. Perhaps she was wrong. What had the others given up in the fight? Families? Comfort? Acceptance? Was it her turn to sacrifice?

“Well?” He thumped his forefinger against his bulging bicep.

She glowered at him. “Fine.”

“Then say it.”

“I’ll obey you.” She nearly choked on the words.

Carter gave a chuckle and squeezed her shoulder. “There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

She shrugged off his hand. “Did I hear you say something about going back to the shooting gallery?” She forced a sickeningly sweet smile. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t miss this time, Mr. Stockton.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “Emily, I really do need you to do what I say out here. You might not see a ball coming your way, and if I yell directions to you, I need you to obey without a second thought.”

“And you received no satisfaction from making me say that word.”

He held up his finger and thumb pinched together. “Maybe a wee bit. Ready to start?”

“Why don’t you just order me to do it?”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I pushed you too far, but surely you realize I’m not like that. I wouldn’t be here if I was.” He tossed the ball from his right to his left hand. “Let’s start with something easy—catching.”

“Carter, you might as well know that nothing requiring my mind and the rest of my body to cooperate is easy for me.”

“Then we’ll take it slow. I promise to be a patient teacher.”

“I think I could try any man’s patience.”

He grinned. “I don’t doubt.” Moving several yards from her, he held up the ball. “Now, we’re going to warm up slow.”

Carter tossed an underhanded throw toward her. Emily’s heart quickened. The ball flew through the air like a bat swooping in on an insect, and Emily closed her eyes. The ball thudded at her feet. Did she hear Carter moan?

“Emily, a great catch starts with keeping your eyes open.”

“That’s easier said than done.” She picked the ball up and lobbed it back. It fell short of him by a good yard.

Carter sighed.

“What was wrong with that?”

“You throw like a girl.”

“I am a girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” He gave her a cockeyed grin and bounced the ball in his hand. “Keep your eyes open this time, okay?”

“You.” She pointed a finger at him. “Throw nice.”

Carter tossed the ball in a high arc, and she stepped forward with her hands outstretched, eyes wide. The bulky leather glove he’d given her refused to move fast enough. Instead, the baseball bit into her sweaty right hand. She winced and dropped the ball. “Ow!”

“Use the glove to catch the ball. Use your other hand to throw it.”

“But this thing is huge! How can I catch anything?”

Carter jogged over to her. “Ninety percent of any game is knowing you can do it.” He tapped her head. “You need to believe you can do this.”

She dug the toe of her shoe into the soft dirt. “Carter, you don’t understand.”

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “I’m not going to give up, and neither are you. That was the first of a hundred throws you’re going to miss today.”

“I won’t miss every one of them!”

He laughed. “See, you’re already thinking like a winner.”

An hour later, Emily felt like she had indeed missed at least a hundred throws. But she’d also managed to catch enough that her confidence grew a fraction. Her throwing, Carter insisted, was still pathetic, but he said they’d work on that tomorrow.

Emily rubbed her aching shoulder. Why would anyone want to do this every day?

Carter jogged over and glanced up at the sun. “Ready for lunch?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She trudged to the basket, the new shoes pinching with each step. Surely at least two blisters had formed on each foot.

Carter lifted the basket from her hand and led her to a spot under an oak with a view of the rippling lake.

She caught a whiff of the tangy water on the breeze as he spread the tartan blanket in the grass and set the basket on top. Then, offering his hand, he helped her settle beside their lunch.

Her body protested at the movement, but she tried not to wince.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow. Maybe we should go for a swim later on. The water would help ease your muscles.”

Emily opened the basket’s lid and took out the chicken Britta had packed. “I’d like to, but I can’t. The girls are meeting to discuss publicity for the game.”

“Are you coming to our game tonight?” He spread a napkin over his lap.

“I don’t know if I’ll get back from town by then.”

He gave her a mock frown. “I guess I can’t have all of your time.”

“I’ll try to do both.” She withdrew two apples, tossed him one, and bit into her own. Sweet juices burst on her tongue and a drop eased its way down her chin. She hurried to catch the liquid with her napkin.

“Emily, don’t you want to ask a blessing before we eat?”

“Oh.” She dropped her hands, apple and all, into her lap. “You’ve worked me so hard, I’m muddleheaded.”

“Sure, blame it on me.” He took her hand in his.

The warmth of his touch made it hard to concentrate on the words of his prayer. She forced herself to focus as he thanked God for their new friendship and the food. When he asked God to give them both patience, a smile played across his lips. He was certainly going to need an extra helping of that.

She held out the chicken, and to her secret delight, he selected a leg.

The next hour passed all too quickly. Carter regaled her with stories about his teammate’s antics, which left her sides aching. Emily shared a few stories of growing up as Martin’s younger sister. A true prankster, Martin always had a habit of bending the rules, and Carter seemed to enjoy hearing about his former classmate’s antics.

Bit by bit, Emily found herself forgetting she was in the presence of a man and thinking simply about being with Carter. When he laughed, his dark curls bobbed. She ached to brush them off his forehead and to see how springy they were.

“So how long have you known Ducky?” She pushed a strand of her own windblown hair out of her eyes.

“Since the first day of college. He was my roommate. When we graduated, neither of us was ready to give up baseball.”

“Would you like to play professionally?”

“Sure, along with every boy in the country.”

“Why didn’t you try?”

“Who says I’m not trying now?”

“Are you?”

“Not this minute.” He grinned and took a swig of lemonade from his tin cup.

“What would your father say if you were successful?”

“I doubt if he’d care. He’s got Nathan, big brother extraordinaire. The perfect businessman and the perfect son. According to Nathan, I’m expected to join them in the family business after the season.” He forked the final bite of his chocolate cake.

“But that’s not what you want.”

With a shrug, he deposited his dappled blue and white enameled plate into the basket. “You can’t always get something simply because you want it.”

“But you’re so good.”

“It’s been my experience that being good at something is seldom enough.”

“So you’re not going to try? You’ll never get there if you don’t fight for it.”

He bristled. Tossing in her empty plate, he closed the basket with a huff.

“Carter, I’m sorry. I overstepped.”

“No, you said what you were thinking. I want you to be honest with me.” Irritation edged his voice. Then, with a sigh, he continued. “What made you such a fighter? And don’t tell me it was that women should have the right to vote. Remember, I knew you back before you were involved in suffrage work.”

“I’m not sure. Martin says I was always a scrapper. I think life didn’t always seem fair to me.”

“And it’s your job to right all the wrongs.”

“Something like that.” The difficult strand of hair broke free again. She reached for the pins tucked in at the nape of her neck to secure it in place.

“Don’t.” He stilled her hand.

“Pardon?”

“I like the wind blowing your hair that way. It matches you. Unpredictable. Alive. Resilient.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed her knuckles with a kiss. “You can’t fix every problem in the world. Especially mine.”

“Carter—”

Pinning her with his gaze, Carter silenced her words. Her chest tightened at the sadness she saw swirled within the caramel depths of his eyes, and she wanted to say or do something to ease the pain he wasn’t yet willing to share. But what could she say that she hadn’t already said? No matter how much Carter might want to play professional baseball, it seemed he felt it was beyond his grasp. Why was that?