Promise Forged, page 6
“I could keep you here covering town hall and let Meredith over there follow the team. Bet she’d find the human-interest stories. Or better yet, I’ll get stringers in each town. Save the paper a boatload of money we’re throwing away on you and your outlandish expenses.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I’ve written good stories covering the games.”
“Sure. Play-by-play is exactly what our readers want. Has them racing to the stands to buy the paper. They can get that on the radio.” Ed shook his head. “We’ve got to offer them something they can’t get anywhere else. There’s too much competition for anything less.” He crossed his arms and leaned over his desk. “Look, kid, I know this isn’t your final destination. But if this is all you’ve got to pour on the page, it will be. Now get out there, and find me something I can print.”
Jack strode from the room, easing the door shut behind him rather than slamming it like he wanted. He walked across the small newsroom to the reporters’ bays, strides hamstrung like his writing. Four desks set in a square formation, phones and piles of papers marring each surface. He grabbed the gray fedora from his desk, slammed it on his head, and headed out the door.
“Where you headed?” Doreen Mitchell, the receptionist and gal of all trades, queried before he could sneak away.
“Out.”
“Told you couldn’t find a story again?” The light of sympathy in her gaze was the last thing he wanted.
“Research.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll be back in an hour.”
“You’ll need this.” She tossed him a pad and pen. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
What he really needed was every bit of luck he could get.
Main Street didn’t look alive, not in between festivals. The cherry blossom festival had ended in April, and with it the tourists had abandoned the town until the next festival in July. Now the regulars focused on work—long shifts at the factories on the outskirts of town that the town fathers had turned into munitions shops. All civilian activities had morphed into something that aided the war effort.
Then there was him. Stuck hunting for a ridiculous series of human-interest stories about girls playing softball. Good grief. Made him want to hunt for another line of work. Until he considered his options, that was. Spending all day standing and sweltering in a superheated factory wouldn’t work with his knee any better than combat.
His was in a lose-lose situation. No getting around it.
So write stories about the girls he would. Even that was better than covering another town hall meeting.
He continued down Main Street, looking for anything that would prompt a story idea. The suits in the haberdashery’s window looked outdated. Nobody had parked cars in front of the First Bank of Cherry Hill. He walked past more establishments. Jorgenson’s Furniture. Behr’s Soda Fountain. The five-and-dime. He stopped to scan the five-and-dime’s window, but nothing caught his eye.
Jack Raymond did not struggle to find topics. But the Jack Raymond of old also didn’t have women unaffected by his presence.
He stopped cold. Where had that thought slunk from?
He needed to clear his mind of one Katherine Miller. She was practically in diapers. Hadn’t even graduated from high school.
But he couldn’t clear his mind of her when her profile languished in his notebook.
Ed was right. Each of his reports focusing on the game alone fell flat. They were accurate reflections of the game but missed the heart. With a girls’ team, that should be easy to capture. The way they gave their all to every play. The way they raced around the bases, tongues caught between their teeth as they determined to make it to home regardless of what stood in their way. The way they played hard after the game.
There was a thought.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking, head down in concentration. His mind played with the idea. Some of them played mighty hard. In violation of the rules. . .
The sound of heels clicking along the sidewalk registered right before he collided with someone. He looked up and stopped. Looked like he’d conjured up a Blossom, just not the one that filled his thoughts with her athletic form and smile.
A woman sat on the ground shaking her head. For a moment he hoped he’d see auburn curls under the sporty hat. Instead a soft brown bob peeked out.
Faye Donahue shook her head then stared at him with doe eyes. “Mr. Raymond, would you mind assisting me to my feet?” A flirty smile had him grinning in reply.
“Certainly.” He pulled her to her feet, surprised by how light she felt. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a softball player. It would take more than your tap to hurt me.” Faye brushed off her skirt. “Well, good day.”
“Wait.” Jack tapped his pad of paper. “Would you like a cherry Coke at Behr’s? I wondered if I might profile you, the team’s dazzling pitcher, in my next article.”
“Any plans to highlight my tomboy antics?”
Jack winced as she threw his words from the prior article back at him. “Or should I tell everyone you performed in a circus?”
“I thought you might focus on the beauty kit. You know, ‘avoid noisy, rough, and raucous talk and actions. . . .’ ”
“I like your sense of humor. Looks like I’ll need to be more over the top.” He opened the door to Behr’s and let her proceed. “How about a banana split?”
❧
Kat didn’t think she could take another moment. When awake she practiced or played in games in Cherry Hill or on the road, always surrounded by her teammates. When at home, the Harrison children kept things hopping at the house. The only place she could relax was church. Even there, she sensed people watching her—mainly with curiosity, but some looks bordered on hostility. She went to worship and remember the great sacrifice made for her.
Right now she needed peace and quiet away from others. Even an hour would do.
She hurried down Main, a tote slung over her shoulder, wearing a simple skirt and blouse. Just once she wished she could wear shorts or pants in public, but this summer she had to follow the rules. At all times. The consequences of not obeying—being sent home to Dayton—were unacceptable. She might long for some peace and quiet, but she loved every moment on the diamond. That magical experience of playing a game she loved in front of fans who wanted to see the AAGPSL teams play continued to make her feel alive.
Ahead of her a group exited the drugstore, and she slowed to let them past. A laugh caught her attention. Faye leaned on Jack Raymond’s arm, giggling as he gestured while they left the store. Kat’s heart stalled, and she quickly turned to look into the store’s plate glass window. Her heart tightened, and she struggled to pull in a breath. The crazy reaction only reinforced her need for time alone.
The couple strolled past, but Kat kept her focus on the window. After they’d walked down the sidewalk, she turned to watch and caught Jack looking over his shoulder at her. He tipped his hat, and heat crawled up her neck.
Argh. She turned and stomped toward the park.
“Stupid girl,” she muttered as she marched. This had to stop. Time to get a grip on her zigzagging, roiling emotions.
Kat reached the park and slowed her pace. A picnic table sitting in a pool of dappled sunlight pulled at her. A breeze blew through a stand of elms a few feet away, taking the edge off the heat. Children ran around a merry-go-round, their laughter filling the air. She sank onto the bench, and a bird tittered from a branch overhead.
Stillness settled over Kat as she soaked in the atmosphere. She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and quieted her heart.
Father, I’m sorry I’ve let so many days pass without making time with You a priority. Forgive me? Make me hungry for You. Prompt me until I can’t let a day end without seeking You.
She kept her eyes closed and waited. The silence and peace enveloped her. Something rubbery plunked against her thigh. She opened her eyes, looked down, and found a dodge ball next to her.
Chucking it to a young boy who stood a few feet away watching her, she then opened her bag and pulled out her Bible. Kat opened it to her favorite passage, Psalm 40.
As she read yet again the words she’d memorized, they resonated in her spirit.
“I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.” Her eyes scanned down to verse 4: “Blessed is that man that maketh the Lord his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies.”
She tilted her face toward the sun. Lord, help me to always trust in You, first and foremost in my life. I don’t want to live like the proud and find myself pulled away by any god other than You.
Any god other than Him. What did that mean? It wasn’t like she would walk away and abandon God or stop going to church. What was a god? Something people exalted in their lives. That made the possibilities almost endless.
Softball?
Kat cringed. Softball was a game. Not something she worshipped. Then she considered every day that she’d made time to practice. Rushed to pack a bag and catch the train that would take her to the next city and the next game. Maybe the thought wasn’t as far-fetched as she’d like. Father, forgive me.
Verse by verse she meditated on the psalm, celebrating the way the words came to life with meaning. When she reached verse 10, she stopped and read it again. “I have not hid thy righteousness within my heart; I have declared thy faithfulness and thy salvation: I have not concealed thy lovingkindness and thy truth from the great congregation.”
The words stabbed her.
How many times had she failed to speak up when given the opportunity to share the goodness and faithfulness of God? To explain the great kindness He showed in His efforts to draw people to Him?
Maybe the reason she played on the Blossoms was to reveal His righteousness and faithfulness. She studied the thought, let it penetrate her heart.
Had she ever bothered to help her hosts beyond the basic role of a guest? Mrs. Harrison lived on the edge of poverty, overwhelmed with her household of children, yet had opened her home anyway. Kat vowed to find ways to help her. She needed to live beyond her comfort and take advantage of each opportunity God gave her.
God had her in Cherry Hill for a reason. One that extended far beyond playing a game. She knew that to the core of her being.
Now she needed to live like she believed it.
“Ah, so this is where you hide.”
Kat started, hand placed over her heart, at the sudden deep voice. She spun on the bench and found herself staring into Jack Raymond’s dark eyes. “What are you doing here?” She refrained from asking where Faye had gone.
“Thinking.” Jack shrugged, his hands tucked firmly in his pockets. “May I join you?” He sank beside her before she could protest, even if she’d wanted to. “You are a puzzle, Miss Miller.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You seem so above the competition that pushes so many of the girls on the team. But you’re still filled with passion.”
“I love softball.”
He nodded. “That’s clear from the moment you step on the diamond. Why? It’s a game.”
Kat shrugged. “I’m here for a reason.”
The look he shot her told her exactly what he thought of that statement. A bit too obvious. “Everybody is.”
“No. I mean I believe God has me here. I’m not sure exactly why, but I intend to play as hard as I can for as long as I can.”
“With a war raging across the world, I doubt He cares all that much about your softball games. He’s a bit distracted by weightier matters.”
“Do you really believe that?” Kat studied him, longing to know the answer.
“Yes. I can’t see how things could be different.”
“Do you go to church?”
“Sure.”
Kat considered him a moment. Was this one of those times God wanted her to say something? Or should she let it drop? His face seemed open, as if he wanted to hear what she’d say. Please don’t let it be one of his reporter tricks designed to get a rise out of me to give him plenty of information for one of his articles. “If God cared enough about each of us to send His only Son to die for us, then I think He cares about what happens in our day-to-day lives. I was just reading a psalm that talks about God listening to us when we cry to Him. It didn’t say anything about the request needing to be a certain level before He notices.”
The words settled in the air around them for a minute. The silence felt comfortable, nonthreatening. As if she were talking to her brother Mark about a weighty topic.
“You know this won’t last.” Jack broke the silence, his gaze gauging her reaction.
“Why do you say that?”
“If more fans don’t fill the seats, the league won’t make it past this season. Simple economics at play. If there aren’t enough tickets sold, there isn’t enough revenue to cover the costs, let alone make a profit. The town fathers can’t support it for long without some financial payback.”
“It’ll come.” It had to.
Eight
“Do you think he meant it?” Rosie lolled against the bench in the Blossoms’ clubhouse.
“Of course he did.” Lola chomped on her gum, the grimace pasted on her face. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out there aren’t enough people in the stands most days.”
“Ladies, please watch your tone.” Joanie paused in doctoring a strawberry on Faye’s leg and gave Lola and Rosie the evil eye. “You needn’t worry about the business structure of the league.”
Kat listened to the exchange between the players and chaperone but didn’t agree with Joanie’s conclusion. If there weren’t enough spectators, there wouldn’t be a team. Much as the experience stretched her, she didn’t want to return to Dayton and spend the rest of the summer playing an occasional game with the boys and helping Mother around the house.
With her older sister, Josie, and her kids back home while Art served in the army, home felt cramped. Add in Mark and his crazy hours at the National Cash Register Company working on his top-secret project, and she might have a bit more privacy living with strangers. Well, not actually.
No, this summer formed an opportunity to stretch her wings and fulfill a dream.
There must be something they could do to keep the league viable. “Are we active enough in the community?”
Her teammates turned and stared at Kat.
“I think my photo’s in more than enough ads.” Faye posed, arm pulled back as if to throw, big grin plastered on her face.
“Well, I think you’re a beast, not sharing more of the camera time with the rest of us.” Claudia stuck her tongue out at Faye. “Do you have to hog so much?”
“Some days you girls are too much for a body to handle. Worried about who has the most pictures in the paper. Good night.” Joanie shook her head. “Y’all need to pack and be at the train station in two hours. I’m taking a break. See you at the station.” She grabbed her hat and purse and huffed out of the room, letting the door slam behind her.
Lola plopped down next to Kat. “You’re a cute kid, but what on earth do you think we could do?”
“Make more community appearances, maybe?”
Faye shook her head. “We’re already running all the time. If we’re not practicing, we’re packing for a game. If we’re not in town trying to humor our host families, we’re on a train headed to another small city that looks an awful lot like Cherry Hill. I barely find time to sleep as it is.”
Others nodded and murmured among themselves.
Maybe she should wait until she had a well-formed idea to share with them. Kat stood but sat down again as Addebary barreled into the clubhouse.
“Girls, if all goes well with our trains, we’ll play the Rockford Peaches tonight. They’re a good team, so I want to see your best. All of it. Every slide you’ve held back, make it tonight. We’ve got three games to beat one of the leading teams.
“And we’ve got company on this trip.”
Excitement rippled through the room. Kat couldn’t imagine who would join them and why the others would think company was what they needed.
“Jack Raymond will join us on this trip. He’ll be with you all the time, except when you’re sleeping, of course.” Addebary stared at each of them. “No fraternizing with the reporter in any kind of intimate way. He is here to learn more about each of you for a series of special stories he’s writing. If it’ll get more fans here to watch you play, it’s a good thing. Now get going, and don’t forget your gear.”
After a mad scramble, the room emptied, except for Kat. She remained rooted to the bench, leaning against the cold, metal locker. Jack Raymond. Traveling with them. That annoying, self-absorbed reporter. She wouldn’t have a moment’s peace with him there determined to make her a star. She couldn’t take it. Not now.
All the peace she’d clung to since her time with God in the park threatened to abandon her. God, help me cling to You and Your peace.
❧
Traveling on a train with that gaggle of girls. He must be desperate for a story. Jack had written a puff piece on Faye Donahue and left it along with his profile of Katherine Miller on Ed’s desk. The man would have to be satisfied with them for now.
In his small apartment, really just a room behind a garage, Jack busily stuffed clothes and underwear in a satchel. Three days. Then he’d return to his abode if Ed didn’t send him on to the next road series with the Blossoms. Some American dream. A twelve-by-twelve space with a bed, dresser, and hot plate. At least his dreams exceeded the scope of this town. Someday he’d shake the dust from his shoes and return to a real city. He could already smell the Windy City’s unique, deep-dish pizza and numerous hot dog stands.
