Promise Forged, page 2
Dolly looked away. “Wish I’d had that option.”
“You didn’t?”
“I needed to help at home. It happens when you’re the oldest of ten.”
Kat couldn’t imagine not finishing school or having that many siblings. Even if she married young and started a family like her older sister, Josie, she wanted to learn all she could so she could be the best wife and mother possible to her family. There was too much out there she didn’t know yet. And the thought of attending the University of Dayton where her father taught seemed like the logical next step after she finished her senior year of high school.
“Before you leave, we want to show you something.” Mr. Wrigley’s words pulled Kat from her thoughts. “This is the uniform the teams will wear.”
A woman stepped onto the diamond. She twirled a bat over her shoulder and preened as she walked in front of the assembly. Kat’s jaw dropped as she stared at the outfit. “We’re supposed to play in that?”
That was a dress. No other word described it. A short skirt in an ugly shade of peach, with a top that buttoned to the side.
Dolly sucked in air through the gap in her front teeth. “It’s awfully short. Can you imagine sliding into base?”
Kat shook her head, wincing at the image of the rash and bruise she’d get. A general murmur rose as the player up front continued to pirouette.
“That looks more like an ice-skating outfit than a softball uniform.” Kat bit her tongue rather than say what she really thought. Only a fool would design something like that and think women could play ball in it.
“Enjoy charm school. You report there in an hour.”
An hour? Kat groaned. So much for a soaking bath. She’d be lucky to get a shower and a meal.
Kat joined the flood of women headed to the hotel. She unlocked the door to her room and stumbled on a packet on the floor. She picked it up, back muscles protesting.
Charm school and dresses. Just wait till she wrote Mother a letter with those details. Maybe Mother’s friends would approve when they heard what was required after practice. What did charm school have to do with softball? Kat collapsed on the bed, packet in hand, and closed her eyes. A nap sounded so good, but there wasn’t time. Not if she wanted to clean up before dinner and charm school.
The scratch of a key in the door forced Kat to a sitting position. Nobody else should be in here. She scanned the room again. Nope, no unfamiliar luggage hidden against a wall or under furniture.
The door opened, and a suitcase pushed through, followed by a woman.
“Aren’t you cute?” A stocky woman with crazy, curly hair smiled at Kat as she wrestled the suitcase into the room. “Where are you from?”
“Dayton, Ohio.” Kat smiled at her. “My name’s Katherine Miller, but all my friends call me Kat.”
“Well, Katherine ‘Kat’ Miller, I’m Lola Leoppold from southern Indiana.” A soft twang peppered her words. “It’s a pleasure.”
Kat smiled. She might not have a room to herself, but Lola looked like the kind of person who’d make a good roommate. “What’s your position?”
“Whatever will get me on a team.” Lola hefted her case onto the second twin bed. “Wooh! Guess I packed too much. I’d think it contained rocks if I didn’t know better. I’ve got to get away from home for a while, and the pay’s good.”
Fifty dollars a week or more. Great wages for a girl who hadn’t finished high school. “It would be nice.”
Lola snorted. “Doesn’t look like you need the money.”
Kat looked down at her sweaty outfit. She’d worn this uniform all last season, and it had lost its new shine awhile ago. If Lola thought this made Kat look like she was made of money, there wasn’t much Kat could do to change that perception. A shiver traveled down her spine. Would everyone look at her so critically? Maybe she hadn’t prepared for the cutthroat environment.
“What’s in that envelope you’re holding?”
Kat looked down at the packet. “I don’t know. It was on the floor when I arrived.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Suppose I should be.” She didn’t open it. Instead Kat stared at it, imagining what it contained.
“You afraid it’s a letter sending you home?” Lola snorted. “It’s too early for that.”
Maybe, but still. . . Kat took a deep breath and tore back the flap. She slipped out the sheets then scanned the first. “It’s a handbook.”
“See, nothing to get worked up about. Let me see it.” Kat tossed the pamphlet to Lola, who opened it. “Here you go. ‘Your mind and your body are interrelated, and you cannot neglect one without causing the other to suffer. A healthy mind and a healthy body are the true attributes of the all-American girl.’ ” Lola batted her eyes then laughed. “What a bunch of hooey.”
“Regardless, this”—Kat waved a letter in the air—“says we need to be in the lobby in ten minutes for the walk to charm school.”
“Then you’d better run through the shower fast, sister.” Lola sniffed the air. “Or the charm will end before it begins.”
Kat grabbed a change of clothes and hurried to the bathroom. With her rough edges, Lola might not be the person she would have picked for a roommate, but she’d certainly keep the training experience interesting.
After a quick shower, Kat dressed and headed downstairs to join the group walking to the charm school. Mother had always stressed manners and acting like a lady. What could Kat possibly learn?
❧
Jack slouched in a chair against the wall. He’d picked it because of the tall, fake palm tree tucked next to the seat. Maybe if he was really good and lucky, the evening would pass without many of the players noticing him.
That he sat in the Helena Rubinstein Salon was proof positive he needed to keep his mouth shut. The next time he thought something mildly entertaining, he’d keep it to himself, not give Ed the opportunity to send him to the wolves, er, salon.
This did not qualify as sports reporting any way he looked at it.
It might make the society page if he were unlucky. The best hope was that Ed came to his senses and realized what a horrible idea it was to give column inches to charm school.
A primly dressed young woman ushered the players into a large room. She glided across the room like a pro, while many of the players clomped into the ballroom. Jack covered a smile. The instructors had their work cut out for them if they planned to remake all these ladies in less than a week.
“Are you always this impertinent?”
The soft, musical voice pulled Jack from his belief that no one could see him. He turned, and his gaze collided with the player from that morning. She was even younger than he’d thought, with an innocence that belied the fact coming to Chicago was probably the biggest thing that had happened to her.
Her jade eyes arrested him. They seemed to pierce through him, weigh him, and find him wanting. No woman ever did that.
Jack stood and found the girl was as petite as he thought. With creamy skin, red curls, and those green eyes, she looked like an Irish doll, one that barely reached his chest.
“Not really talkative, huh.” She crossed her arms and stared at him. “I can’t wait to see what you write in the paper. I’m sure each word will perfectly represent what is actually happening here.”
“Slow down. Take a breath.” He held up his hands. “I doubt you’ll see the article, and I only write what I observe.”
“A casual observer. Non-partial, no agenda at all.” She jutted her chin out, stubbornness oozing from her.
“Claiming you haven’t formed an opinion about me?” Jack flashed her his most charming smile. “I’m Jack Raymond.”
“Katherine Miller. And yes, I already know what I need to about you.”
“Ladies, if you’ll all find a chair.” The older lady at the front of the room, Helena Rubinstein maybe, clapped her hands as other staff shooed the players to seats.
“Time’s up.”
Katherine stared at him another minute. “Guess you’ll have to prove me wrong later.” She strolled to a vacant chair. The gals on either side highlighted her delicate beauty.
Jack chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck as he considered her words. He could think of a dozen ways to show her how her pulse could race in the presence of the right person. Katherine Miller was no different from the other women who succumbed to his charms.
The women stood to their feet, scraping hundreds of chairs across the floor. He shuddered and wondered how to escape the torture chamber.
About the time he didn’t think he could watch one more person walk across the room or endure another player being told everything wrong with her appearance, the session ended. The women left the building, many rushing out the door, all decorum taught in the last hours abandoned. A few stayed in their chairs, talking in small groups.
Katherine sat by herself, stiff and unyielding. He wondered what bothered her.
Only one way to find out. Jack walked over to join his star. “Molded to the chair?”
She frowned at him. “What?”
“Most people flew out of here the moment they were free, but you’re still here.”
“I guess I am. Your powers of observation astound me, Mr. Raymond.”
Point to the kid. “Jack. Call me Jack.”
“Maybe.” She grinned at him, a cute dimple appearing in her chin. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“A huge slab of pie.”
He could imagine she was hungry after the day of exercise, but as her gaze flitted about the room, something more underlined her request. “Let’s find you something to eat. Can’t have you melting away.”
One of the chaperones stood at the door watching the women leave. When Katherine saw her, she groaned. “I guess we’d better forget the pie.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rule number three. All social engagements must be approved by a chaperone. I can’t give them any reason to think I won’t make a good player or follow their silly rules.” She chewed a fingernail, and her shoulders sloped, all hints of perfect posture from minutes ago displaced.
Watching her he wanted to do something to take her mind off whatever had her tense. “Let me walk you back.” At least then he could try to entertain her.
A shy smile teased her lips. “I think that works in the rules.”
As they walked, he told her stories about different events he’d covered. He did his best to make every city hall meeting sound exciting or ridiculous. Ridiculous wasn’t too hard when he mentioned the feud about somebody’s goat eating the neighbor’s prize roses. Her laugh surrounded him, and the tension eased from her body.
They reached the door of the hotel, and she turned to him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Helping me forget that I could be cut tonight.” Her dimple reappeared for a fleeting moment. “Good night.” She slipped through the rotating door and disappeared into the lobby.
She might make this week interesting after all. He’d make certain of that.
Three
The next morning Kat stalked to Wrigley Field. Her body ached, each movement emphasizing the nonstop activity of the day before. It didn’t matter. Kat would leave everything on the diamond. No way would she be sent home without knowing she had done all she could to prove she could play.
Pandemonium reigned as the managers organized the girls into groups. Kat glanced into the stands and found Jack. This time he looked bored out of his mind as he slouched on the bleacher. A pad of paper sat next to him, pages fluttering in the wind, but a pen remained tucked behind his ear. He couldn’t write a story if it stayed there. Jack caught her watching him and winked. Heat climbed her neck, reaching her cheeks. She longed for a tan that would cover the color.
He leaned forward and motioned for her.
Kat sneaked a look at the coach and sidled toward the bleachers. “Yes?”
“Just wanted you to know you’re an even better player now than you were the first time I saw you play.”
“The first time? Yesterday?” What was the man talking about?
“No, several years ago I got to watch you back in Ohio. The only girl on a team of men.”
“That’s what I’m used to.”
“Not after this week.” He leaned back again, taking on a bored air. “You’ll be busy playing with the gals after this week.”
She wanted to believe he was right. But. . .too much could still go wrong. And too many other women here were too good at softball.
“Miller.”
Kat startled as her name was barked. “Yes, sir?”
“You here to play or watch the reporters?” A burly manager frowned and pointed back to the diamond.
“Here to play, sir.”
“Then get in line with the rest of ’em. This is worse than herding cats.”
Kat laughed at the image. She could just see the man trying to organize her tabby and calico along with another three hundred or so cats. A project destined for failure.
She gave the manager her full attention and soon fielded balls along with the rest in her group. Her field of vision narrowed until the white balls were all she could see. She anticipated where they’d roll and flew around her area, determined to catch each one.
The next time she caught her breath and looked in the stands, Jack had disappeared.
Her heart sank. She shook off the sensation. Why should she care if he sat there or not? Reporters didn’t understand softball anyway. When had one ever gotten the story right? No, in her experience, reporters undervalued any sport girls played. Why submit to more of that?
She didn’t need anyone to tell her she played well. Especially not a reporter who couldn’t play the game if his survival depended on it.
The morning passed in a blur of running, sliding, catching, and throwing. By the time lunch was served, Kat felt like she’d done everything she could on the diamond. Already she felt her muscles tightening. If she didn’t stretch, she’d stiffen too much to play in the afternoon. Kat gulped water as she sat at a table with Dolly and other exhausted players. Subdued conversation flowed as they ate and introduced themselves.
Some had journeyed from as far as Canada and Florida. The common consensus was that each of them had to make a team. The options back home didn’t satisfy any of them.
Kat looked around and noticed several people who hadn’t made appearances. “Where is everybody?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Dolly groaned. “Some got calls last night. They were sent home. Already. They really made cuts after the first day.”
Kat gulped. “Cut? Already?”
“Yep.” Dolly shivered. “Can you imagine? They must be serious about finding the best players. And quickly!”
That settled it. Kat would play so hard she couldn’t move if that’s what the managers expected. Guess it would prepare her for what she would face if she made a team.
No. Not if. When she made a team.
❧
Jack rubbed his head then slapped his hat back on. The sun pounded down, and he wished for a bit of shade. What he wouldn’t give for a desk back in the newsroom. The comfortable chaos sounded wonderful compared to the boredom of watching yet another day of drills. Spring training only accentuated his inability to play the game he had loved.
A breeze ruffled the newspaper on the bleacher next to him. He’d hunted and found a copy of this morning’s Cherry Hill Gazette, all for the spunky redhead. He couldn’t wait to toss her the issue and watch her reaction. There would be one. He had no doubt of that. Whatever it was, he’d wager it would entertain.
The managers ran the women through more drills. Jack winced each time he watched a gal throw herself into a slide toward home plate. He could only imagine the bruises forming under their shorts and pants. Nothing compared to what would happen once they wore those ridiculous uniforms Wrigley’s wife had designed.
He enjoyed sports as much as the next person, but the intensity on the field was mind-boggling. A couple of women almost came to fisticuffs over catching a ball.
Jack shook his head and waited for the practice to end.
Fortunately he didn’t have to cover charm school tonight. The images from last night still haunted him. Each gal had been evaluated, sometimes brutally. What had started as entertainment left him feeling bad for some of them. They couldn’t control what God had given them to work with. Tell that to the salon staff who took it as a personal affront.
Yet another reason to be glad God made him a man. No one cared if his hair was thick, thin, or spotty. His eyebrows remained untouched, and thank goodness he didn’t get told what cosmetics to use and where.
A shudder coursed through him at the thought.
This was supposed to be about softball. If last night was a realistic reflection, “powder-puff” accurately described the nascent league.
“All right. You’re done, ladies. I’ll see you in the morning.” One of the managers dismissed the gals. “And don’t forget your schooling tonight.”
Groans rose from the crowd. Many turned and shuffled out of the park. A few collapsed on the field. Jack scanned the group for one with hard-to-miss auburn hair. He’d watched her off and on, and now when he wanted to talk to her, it figured he couldn’t find her.
There.
He leaped to his feet and bounded down the last few steps, ensuring his path intersected with hers. “Hey, kid.”
She stopped, the weary slump of her shoulders making him wonder if he should leave her alone. “Yes?”
“Thought you might like to see the article I wrote.” He tossed the paper at her, and she caught it with sure hands.
