Better Than Perfect (4 page)

She read over her essay one more time. Not bad. Not perfect, but it gave a sense of who she was and why she would make a good teacher. She just had to attach the letter and hit Send.

She moved the cursor to just a click away from her future.

The phone rang, shaking her conviction. She saved the file and closed it without sending. She got up to find the cordless, but Zach poked his head into the kitchen.

“Mom. Phone.” He handed it to her on his way to the refrigerator. “It’s Russ Crawford.”

Russ was the Director of Player/Community Relations. He was the liaison between the Goliaths and her program. He lined up the players. She lined up the funding. He helped her communicate with the pros, and she helped them communicate with the kids.

“Bad news.” Russ had been working with Alice for the last five years, and he was always a straight shooter. “Cooper won’t be available next week.”

“What seems to be the problem?” She managed to maintain a professional composure. Even though he’d just told her she would be scrambling the next few days. At least now she knew where the nagging feeling had come from.

“Didn’t pass a drug test.” The frustration in his voice came through clearly. He’d worked too hard to restore the team’s image in the wake of the steroid era. “But don’t worry. I have someone lined up to fill in on short notice. You’ll love him.”

She had a feeling she already did.

“Who do you have in mind?

“Johnny Scottsdale.”

“He’ll do.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her. The idea of working with Johnny was tantalizing and terrifying at the same time.

“I know how much this program means to you.” Russ was a good guy. He knew his job was more about how the players could benefit the community and not how the charity work could further the careers of the players. “Harrison Foundation has done a lot of good for a lot of people.”

“That is the goal.” Alice rubbed her temples. “I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished in such a short time.”

“Seven years.” Russ reminded her.

“Has it been that long?” She’d been a widow for two years longer than she’d been a wife. Yet she remained close with her in-laws. They were still her family, and they would be lost without Zach helping fill the void from losing their only son.

“You’d just started your second year when I came on board.” Yes. That was when he’d hit on her. She’d used the excuse that she didn’t have time; she was too busy getting the foundation off the ground. Her son needed her.

He’d at least taken the hint. They’d been able to maintain a professional relationship.

She hoped she could be as professional with Johnny.

“Time flies.” In many ways it seemed like just yesterday when she’d made that one mistake that changed her life forever. Maybe it was a series of mistakes. Starting with letting Johnny go. Ending up naked in a hotel room with his best friend. And then marrying Mel when she felt she had nowhere else to turn.

“Don’t worry about a thing.” Russ said. “I’m sure Johnny Scottsdale will come through for you. From what I hear, he’s as solid as they come.”

You have no idea how solid he is.

Where did that come from? She had no right to think about how strong he was. No right to long for his arms around her. Absolutely no right to wish she could trade the last fourteen years for one more night in his bed.

“Does Johnny know he’s going to pinch hit for Cooper?” Alice spent way too much time around the game. She couldn’t help but use baseball clichés.

“He’s all set. Juan Javier told me he’s ready to step up to the plate.” Russ was just as bad. Came with the territory, she supposed. “I’d expect a call from him soon.”

“Do you happen to have an email for him?” She was a coward. She didn’t want to hear it in his voice that Johnny was still angry. Or worse, devoid of any feelings for her. “It would be easier to send him the information than try to go over it over the phone.”

“Sure. I’ll get it to you right away.” Russ must have been in his office, because her inbox popped up with an alert for a new message. All of Johnny’s contact information.

They ended the conversation with a bit of small talk before hanging up.

She opened her email program. Attached the necessary files and got no further than
Dear Johnny
in the body of the email before she noticed Zach standing there with an empty milk glass and the container of leftovers she’d planned on saving for lunch at least two days this week.

“So, I guess Johnny Scottsdale is going to do the camp after all.” Zach tried to act like he didn’t care one way or another, but he couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face when she nodded. “Cool.”

He set the glass on the counter and opened the fridge again.

“Zach, you can’t possibly be hungry.”

“I guess not.” He flopped down on the bench seat of their little breakfast nook. “Do you think Johnny would teach me how to throw a curveball?”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll stick to the basics.” Alice had done the research on protecting young pitchers. There was some dissention, but most of the experts were all about protecting younger players. “As part of the program, he’ll focus on proper mechanics of the fastball, and for those kids who are ready, I’m sure he’ll work with them on the changeup.”

“Yeah, but some of the guys…”

“Zach, even if he wanted to show you how to throw a curveball, I’m not going to let you work on it until you’re in high school.”

“I know.” His shoulders slumped. “Not until I have hair under my arms. So lame.”

“You do want to play in high school, right?” They’d been over this. He wanted to push his limits and she wanted to protect him. “Maybe even beyond?”

“Yeah. But what if I’m not good enough?”

“You are. You don’t need a curveball. Your fastball is solid and your changeup is coming right along.”

“You have to say that, you’re my mom.”

“I’m your mom, but I don’t lie to you.” Unless she’d been lying to him about who his father was.

* * * *

Zach couldn’t be more thrilled to have Johnny Scottsdale working at the minicamp. But nervous, too. What if he thought Zach was some annoying little kid who just tagged along because his mom ran the camp? He was
Johnny Scottsdale
. The best of the best. Perfect, even. “I was thinking maybe instead of participating in the camp, I could, like, help. Be your assistant or something.” He hoped she wouldn’t think it was a lame idea. “I mean, I know a lot about baseball already. And maybe I could work with some of the younger kids.”

“Really? You want to do that?” She sounded kind of surprised, but not in a bad way.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re always talking about giving back and stuff.”

“Good to know you’ve been listening.” She ruffled his hair. Kind of embarrassing, but he didn’t mind all that much. As least not when none of his friends were around.

“I just think that maybe it might be easier for kids to see someone more their age, you know.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea.” She gave him one of those smiles. Like she was so proud of him she might cry any second now.

“Yeah, okay. And if you want me to especially help Johnny Scottsdale, that would be cool.” Yeah, like he was fooling her with his pretending that he didn’t care one way or another.

“You want to help Johnny.” She had that weird thing in her voice. Like it had gotten caught on something sharp. “I think it’s a great idea for you to want to help out. But let’s not get too excited about working with a particular player.”

“He’s new to the team.” Zach tried to keep it cool. “It might help for him to have someone around who knows how we do things.”

“We’ll see.” Why did moms always have to say that? Why didn’t she come right out and tell him no? “But Johnny might be more comfortable working alone.”

“I just want to help.” It was true. But he also wanted to get to know Johnny. He’d always felt a connection to him that he couldn’t explain. Johnny Scottsdale had always played in the eastern part of the country, so Zach had never seen him play in person. But he’d seen him on TV. He was exactly the kind of pitcher Zach hoped to be someday. Johnny never got flustered. He never got upset when he’d pitched well, only to lose 1-0 because his offense couldn’t score any runs. He never blamed his teammates if they made an error behind him. He just shook it off and went out and pitched even better the next time.

“It’s great that you want to help.” His mom got that funny kind of look. “I’m sure we can find plenty for you to do. But don’t plan on following Johnny Scottsdale the whole time.”

“Yeah, I’m not a stalker.”

“I know. But if you get too excited about meeting him, it might make him uncomfortable.” She sounded like she couldn’t quite find the right words. “You know how you get embarrassed when people talk about you too much. Like when Nannie or Grandpa start bragging to their friends about you and you’re there in the room?”

“Yeah. Totally embarrassing.” Zach didn’t like having too many people look at him. And when he was playing sports he had to tune out the crowd. At least his mom wasn’t too loud. She’d just yell
Go Zach!
or something like that. Some kids’ parents got a little obnoxious. Trying to coach from the bleachers. Usually shouting the opposite of what coach told them to do.

“Well, Johnny’s the same way. He doesn’t play baseball because it makes him famous.”

“He plays because he loves it.” Zach could totally relate. “And because he’s awesome.”

“Just don’t tell him that.” She was probably joking, but it didn’t sound like it.

“So are you saying I blew it when I told him we we’re his number one fans?” Great, now he’d probably think Zach was a dork.

“No. You didn’t blow it. Just try to act like you don’t have his stats memorized and his poster over your bed.”

“I get it, Mom. I’ll play it cool.” He could totally do that. He was in eighth grade. Playing it cool was probably the most important thing they’d learned this year. How many times had he seen his friends make fools of themselves by letting a girl know they liked her? But then if they acted like they didn’t like her, her friends would come up and ask why he ignored her.

Zach was so confused, he decided it would be better to stick with baseball. At least the rules were clear.

* * * *

Sunday morning brought Alice’s father-in-law to her door. He came bearing gifts. Or rather, a gift for Zach. A new set of golf clubs.

“He’s outgrown his old ones.” Mel Sr. made the excuse before she could protest the latest offering. “We’ll donate them. Maybe we could start a program to get more kids playing golf.”

“You really don’t have to buy him so much.” Alice placed a daughterly kiss on his cheek. “He enjoys spending time with you.”

“Well, an old man can’t take any chances.” Mel stepped inside the foyer. “I don’t know how many more golf games we’ve got together.”

Mel Sr. had taken his son’s death hard. Even harder than the rest of them. He often shared his regrets with the two women in his life. He worried he hadn’t spent enough time with his son. Hadn’t told him how proud he was of him. He’d been too busy providing for the future; he hadn’t taken the time to live in the moment. So he tried to make up for it with Zach.

“Zach’s not going anywhere.” As soon as she said it, she realized she was a liar. If she went back to school, he’d move to Reno with her. She’d already determined which high school she’d enroll him in.

“Maybe not, but I’m no fool. He’ll find someone much more interesting to hang out with.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. Was he worried about Johnny stepping into Zach’s life? He shouldn’t be. Unless…

“Hey Grandpa, I’m ready for our tee time.” Zach’s golf shirt looked a little snug. He was already almost as tall as his grandfather. Harrison men weren’t known for their height. But they’d certainly made their presence known. Mel Sr. was still a big man in the financial world. Like that old commercial, when Melvin Arnold Harrison spoke, people with money on the line listened.

“Zach, are you sure you want to spend your Sunday morning with the old man?” Mel put his arm around the boy. Another inch and they’d be the same height. But she had a feeling Zach wasn’t even close to ending his growth spurt. He was going to be tall. Very tall. Well over the six feet her husband had aspired to in vain.