Pitcher's Baby (3 page)

The office is empty of visitors, except
for a single woman standing at the counter. I don't recognize her. I'm about to
ask Mrs. Smith where my dad is when the strange lady steps back, turning toward
us. The side of her mouth rises slightly in what some would consider a grin. We
stand there while she rakes her gaze over us, a bright glint in her eyes. After
telling Mrs. Smith thank you, the strange lady strides pass us, gesturing for
us to follow her. We both do, not knowing in that moment that our lives are
about to be changed forever.

I like to believe that if either of us had
known who she was before we left the security of the office, maybe we wouldn't
have followed her so willingly, but that is a lie and I know it. We would still
have followed her, because at the time, in the back of our minds, we had both
always wondered curiously who our mother was. Not the stories we had been told
over the years, but who she really was. What was she like? Why didn't she want us?

“Hey, guys.” She pulls the waist of her
pants up before squatting down eye level with us. “We’re going to go on a fun
trip, like a vacation. Doesn't that sound fun? You want to see the ocean, don't
you?” she asks us excitedly.

“Yeah,” I reply, catching easily onto her
excitement and looking to my brother, begging him with my raised eyebrows to
agree. I have never been to the ocean before, and she was making it sound like
so much fun.

“Who are you?” Aaron asked curiously. I
watch her open her mouth to answer, and then before she gets the chance, she’s
cut off by another stranger in the driver's seat of a car that looks a lot like
a truck, an El Camino, as I would later learn it was called.

“Dawn! Come on! We have to get on the
road,” he yells.

That name, Dawn, hits me like an electric
shock all at once. Could this be
the
Dawn? The same
phantom woman my dad babbles on and on about every time he drinks more than 6
beers? My mother? She exists? I dreamed and fantasized about the day she would
come for us, never truly believing that day would come.

“You’re my mother?” I ask her, even though
I already know in my heart she is. She nods her head, causing her slick,
straight, blonde hair to fall across her face, temporarily shielding my view of
her. She runs her long red nails through it at the scalp, pushing it back out
of her face and gazes up at me from under her eyelashes, like she is afraid of
my reaction to this news. The resemblance is uncanny. I always thought I
favored my daddy because I have his darker skin tone, even if mine is more
white than his. Being a quarter black gave me just enough whatever it was that
if I stood in the sun for more than five minutes I tanned darker than most of
the white girls who spent all summer sun bathing. It also bleached my hair to a
startling snow white blonde every year.

 I gaze back at her. A fluttering starts
in my chest. I don't immediately recognize it as what it is—hope. My lips
stretch across my face, wide and welcoming. ‘I have her eyes,’ I think, looking
into hers. We three all share the same large, round, doe-like shape, but mine
are a lighter brown color than hers, resembling warmed honey rather than hot
chocolate. Aaron looks from me to her and back to me, his mouth dropped open
slightly.

“Yes, baby. I am your Momma.” She reaches
for Aaron’s hand, pulling us both toward her car. “Come on. Let’s go before
Frank gets mad.”

“Where is my daddy?” Aaron asks after we
climb in the backseat. His voice is just above a whisper, almost like he is
afraid to speak up. My brows draw together. We have literally just found our
mother. We have a mom now! So why is he so scared? I take his hand in mine to
try to comfort him like Daddy does after we have a bad dream.

“He’s at work, Tiger,” Mom says, turning
in her seat to see us. “He said to tell you to have a good time and he will see
you both when you get back.” Her words sound funny to me—not in a bad way, just
different from what I am used to hearing. “Let’s have fun, okay?”

Chapter Three

Lucas

I wake the next morning and lie in the bed
thinking about the night before. Today is our day off from playing, so I had
planned on doing some running around and handling a few errands, but now I’m
thinking about hanging around the house and waiting for Aaron to get home.

I crawl out of the bed and head to the
kitchen. Charlee looked like she hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while, and if
she is anything like Aaron, then breakfast is her favorite meal of the day.
Pulling out the bacon and eggs, I get started on cooking.

“Mmm, do I smell coffee?” Charlee asks,
walking into the kitchen and rubbing her eyes. Her hair is in a bun on top of
her head and tiny wisps frame her face. The dark circles around her eyes have
faded with a night’s rest, but I can still see the shadow of them lurking
beneath the surface.

“Yep, by the stove. Do you want cream and
sugar?” I ask, turning away from her so she won’t catch me staring. The truth
is, even under the dark circles and the greasy, nappy, hair, all I can see is a
breathtaking angel. She looks exhausted and in desperate need of a vacation,
but there is absolutely no denying her beauty.

“Please.”

I pour her a cup of coffee and add a
healthy dose of cream before passing it and the sugar to her with a spoon. She
takes it greedily, sipping the warm liquid. I hear the front door open, and
Aaron calls through the house, “Charlee? Lucas?”

“In the kitchen,” I yell, turning back to
the stove.

“What’s this? Breakfast and my favorite
girl in the world?” Aaron asks, picking Charlee up and twirling her in the air.
She laughs and giggles uncontrollably before slapping him on the back and
demanding he set her back down.

“Stop, you nut job,” she says, slapping
him repeatedly.

“Where is my princess? Uncle Aaron needs
some sweet love, since you’re so abusive,” he says, sitting Charlee on the
countertop.

“She’s still sleeping. She had an eventful
night last night.”

“Asleep? It’s after ten. Time for sleeping
beauty to rise.” Aaron takes off running down the hall to Charlee’s room, and
five minutes later, he returns with a squalling baby girl.

“Shh . . . it’s okay, princess. Uncle
Aaron’s got you.” The baby doesn’t seem to care one lick about getting woken up
from her peaceful slumber, and she has no problem telling the world about it.

“Charlee, how do you make it stop?” She
just laughs, holding her ribs tight while Aaron bounces up and down, trying to
quiet her screaming daughter. I take pity on him after a few minutes and offer
to take the baby from him. He happily passes her off to me.

Laying her stomach down against my
forearm, I let her tiny head rest in the crease of my elbow while my hand holds
her firm on her bottom. I swing her back and forth while I warm a bottle from
the fridge, passing it to her mom to check the temperature before I offer it to
the baby girl.

“How the hell did you do that?” Aaron asks,
dumbfounded.

“I guess you just gotta know how to handle
the ladies, bro,” I tease him, earning a chuckle from Charlee.

Turning the baby over, I cradle her in my
arms and offer her the warm bottle. “Quel est votre nom, tout-petit?” I ask
her.

“Everly,” Aaron says, understanding my
question while Charlee just stares at me like I’ve grown an additional head in
the last two seconds.

“Everly, huh? I like it.”

“Everly Grace Cooper. That is her name. If
that is what you were wondering. I don’t speak that much French, but I’m sure
if I spend enough time around you, I’ll brush up on my high school version soon
enough.”

“Cooper? You didn’t give her her father’s
last name?” Aaron asks, confused.

“Nope.”

The way she says it leaves no room to
elaborate or question her further, even if I want to. Setting the bottle on the
counter, I place Everly on my shoulder and pat her back until she releases a
burp that would shame most men. The bacon is sizzling on the stove, but my
hands are full, so Charlee takes over cooking, and by the time I’m done feeding
Everly, breakfast is done.

“What do you have planned for today?”
Aaron asks Charlee after making himself a heaping plate of seconds. Charlee is
still nibbling at her first plate of eggs and bacon. She seems completely
uninterested in eating, like she is lost in her own thoughts.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just hang out
around here. I don’t really know anything about the area, and even if I wanted
to get out and explore, I don’t have a car yet.”

“Char, I’ve told you a million times
already not to worry about that kind of stuff. I already added you to my bank
account and had my accountant print you your own debit card. Use it for
whatever you need. God knows, there’s enough money in it for the both of us and
then some. You can use my Tahoe or the Altima. It’s up to you. I can’t drive
them both, so just pick one. Seriously, let me take care of you guys for now. I
know how stubborn you are and how much you like to do shit all on your own, but
sometimes you gotta take a helping hand.”

“Okay, sheesh, whatever you want as long
as I don’t have to sit through another of your long ass speeches.”

“Fine. I love you, Brat.”

“Love you too, Nerd.”

I try to remain as inconspicuous as possible
during their exchange, not wanting to intrude on a family moment, but Everly
begins crying, and this time, I don’t think she wants anything but her momma. I
pass her off and watch as she heads down the hall toward her room.

“Please tell me I don’t see what I think I
see happening here,” Aaron says, looking at me watching his sister walk down
the hall.

“What?” I ask.

“How long have we known each other?”

“I don’t know. Three years?”

“Yeah, and in three years, I have never
seen you look at a woman. I’ve never seen one so much as catch your eye, and
yet my sister hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet, and you can’t take your
eyes off her.”

“It’s not like that, man.”

“Is it not? I don’t really care. I’m not
here to tell you or her what to do. I’m only going to say this: She has been
through hell, and I mean hell, over the last year, and it took a lot out of her
to come to me for help. Don’t fuck her up worse. She needs friends right now.”

“Man, you don’t need to say anymore. If
anything—and I mean anything at all—comes of this, you know I will take care of
her.”

“Alright, bro. Now tell me, how did you
get Everly to be quiet? I swear that baby hates me.” I can’t help but laugh at
that.

“I’ll never tell.”

“French fucker, you’re supposed to use
your powers for the good, man.”

“I did. The baby stopped crying, didn’t
she?”

“I guess. What you got planned today? You
up for a shopping trip?”

“Shopping? Where? Don’t you have enough
shit?”

“Not for me, asshole.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Just let me shower.”

“All right, I’m going to break the news to
the twin. If you don’t see me in thirty minutes, come find my body. I don’t
know why she has such a problem with accepting help.”

“No worries. I’ll bury you deep and make
sure she doesn’t serve any hard time.”

“Thanks, man. You’re a real friend.”

After I load the breakfast dishes in the
dishwasher so Clarisa doesn’t murder me, I grab some clothes and jump in the
shower. I can hear Charlee and Aaron arguing back and forth with each other in
her room. I understand her reasons for not wanting the help and wanting to do
everything on her own. I was the same way for a while, but now she has a child,
and it’s time to realize that not every person in her life wants to hurt her.
Some genuinely care and want to help.

I’m dying to ask what happened with her
and the baby’s father, but I feel like that is a story she should share when
and if she feels it’s necessary. It’s abundantly clear that they are not
together and that he left her in a crappy situation. I hate that for her and Everly.
It reminds me so much of my own childhood and the days following my adopted father
leaving.

I was young and I don’t remember much
about him, but I do remember the tears—the endless tears my mother tried to
hide from me day in and day out while she sat huddled over the kitchen table,
staring at stacks of paper that I now know were late bills. I don’t know how
she managed to pull herself out the enormous debt he left behind and managed to
still give me everything I wanted or needed, but she did, and I will forever
love her for it.

Chapter Four

Charlee

Apparently, I’m going shopping today.

I tried to argue my way out of it, but in
the end, he pulled the one card I couldn’t fight against.

Everly.

She deserves it, she really does. I only
brought what I couldn’t live without when I left Alabama. At the rate she’s
growing, she will be out of her three month clothes in the next week. She needs
more diapers and wipes, and her Uncle Aaron wants to buy it all.

“Please, Charlee. I missed the baby shower.
Let me buy her some stuff,” he begged.

My shoulders sag forward. I can’t deny him
on my best day, but bring Everly into the mix, and fighting is pointless. I know
it. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he says, grabbing me and
pulling me in close for a tight hug. I let him wrap his arms around me, fighting
the urge to push away. Luckily, he releases me before the instinct to run away
becomes too much to bear.

“Lucas is showering now. He’ll be ready in
about twenty minutes. How long will it take you?”

“Lucas is coming? Why?”

“I don’t know. I asked him. It’s our only
day off this week. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I guess. How do you
know him?”

“Seriously, Charlee, I’ve told you about
him a million times. We met in the minor leagues and got drafted together. He’s
my closest friend. Hell, he’s my only true friend other than my beautiful
sister.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. Okay. I’ll be
ready.” Aaron leaves me to finish getting ready, and twenty minutes later, I’ve
managed to get dressed and resemble a human being of sorts. My hair however is
just too much to worry with right now. I spray a heavy dose of dry shampoo into
the roots and then try to tame the wayward curls with a pick before I give up
and pull the mess of it up in a sloppy bun on the side of my head. It will do
and this way I don’t have to worry about Everly trying to pull my hair out
while I feed her. I just need to finish getting Everly’s stuff together, and
I’ll be good to go. Dropping her off in the living room with Aaron, I start the
tedious process of packing a bag for a baby.

I’m on my way to grab Everly’s diaper bag
that I had left in Lucas’s bedroom the night before when the bathroom door
opens. When Lucas steps out, my jaw hits the floor. I don’t think I have ever
seen a more beautifully sculpted male body in all my life. He’s all lean and
tight. I never would have guessed what he hid underneath the suit and tie the
league forces them to wear. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and is
drying his hair with another one. Steam bellows out around the door, cascading
him in a hazy glow. I stand there staring at him for at least two minutes
before he notices me.

Long, lean arms lead straight into well-rounded,
muscular shoulders. I see the markings of a tattoo starting at his collar bone,
but I can’t make out what it is unless he turns around. I don’t want him to
turn around. I don’t want him to move.

I count eight sexy, hard as steel abs
before my eyes reach the rim of the towel and I can’t go any lower. The slit in
the towel opens, and I see his thigh sneaking out, teasing me. Now I understand
why they say pitchers use their legs as much as their arms when pitching. His
legs are like a work of art. I wish I had my camera and could somehow convince
him to let me photograph his body, but I pawned it a month ago for diaper money,
and my phone camera wouldn’t do his body the justice it deserves.

My gaze travels slowly back up his body,
and on my way up, I can’t help but notice the tent now centered at the apex of
his thighs. My gaze shoots straight to his face. He raises his eyebrows, and I
can physically feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I’ve never in my life had any
man evoke a reaction in me before. Normally, I went along with the kissing and
the pawing in a desperate attempt to feel something—anything—but one look from
Lucas Bouchard, and I feel everything.

My tangled insides are trying to crawl out
from within my stomach. My heart rate increases and my cheeks flush. I don’t
know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I’ve never been caught ogling a man
before, and if I had, it never would have bothered me like this.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I squeak,
and he raises his eyebrows again, giving me this panty melting smirk. I wish I
could slap myself upside the head right about now.

“I mean, we’re ready—to go shopping.
Whenever you are . . . um,” I swallow hard, and my gaze shoots straight back
down to the ever-growing erection under the soft gray towel. “um . . . dressed?”
I ask.

I don’t know why. Of course he needs to
get dressed, but God, right this second, I’d really love to know how his hands
feel on my body. I’d like to see if it’s possible for him to make me feel
anything more than just the sight of him already has.

I stand there waiting for God only knows
what until he finally clears his throat. “I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” I say, and yet I still can’t move.
My legs won’t obey my brain, or maybe my brain won’t tell my legs that they
need to move. I don’t know what is going on, but at this point, I’m pretty sure
Lucas thinks I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

“Did you need something else, Charlee?” he
asks, taking a step into the room. He’s two feet away from me now, and I swear
it’s like all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out. I can’t breathe, yet
he’s still coming closer. With each step he takes, my heart leaps against my
ribs until he’s right next to me, and the only thing separating us is a sliver
of space so minute, I doubt a fly could squeeze through. He reaches his arm out,
and I tense without meaning to, because this is the answer I’ve been wanting.
Will his touch affect me the same way his presence does, or will it be worse?

Only he doesn’t touch me.

Of course he doesn’t, stupid girl. Why
would he want to touch you?

He reaches right past me, grabbing his
shirt off the bed and sliding it over his head. My legs finally decide to
listen to my internal command, and while he’s distracted with a shirt halfway
on, I make my escape down the hall.