Promise Forged, page 8
“I’d like it, too.” Kat hugged Dolly. “I didn’t know you were a Jewel.”
“I didn’t either until two days ago. One day I’m in Racine; the next I’m on a train to Joliet. I didn’t even know such a place existed until this season.” She tried to act nonchalant, but the slump in her shoulders told Kat the change was lonely.
A throat cleared behind Kat, and she turned to see Joanie standing there, arms crossed and a frown on her face. “Joining us, Miss Miller?”
The tone in her voice irritated Kat. She made a decision and turned back to Dolly. “Where are you going for dinner?”
Dolly’s eyes widened, and a spark filled them. “The gals picked a favorite hangout across from your hotel. Maybe it’s strategic for times like this.”
“I’ll see if I can slip away.”
“Katherine Miller. The team is leaving. Now.”
Kat squeezed Dolly one more time then stepped away. “I’ll try to make it.”
Dolly winked at her then hurried to join her teammates.
❧
The kid was scheming. It was as clear as the score on the scoreboard that Kat was up to something with that Jewel. He vaguely remembered seeing them together at spring training.
The chaperone really should temper her harsh edges, because Kat bristled each time she issued a demand. He couldn’t imagine living under the rules, especially with the strict limitations. Kat’s age seemed to keep her separated from her teammates, and Joanie didn’t help matters any. He hadn’t figured out her angle yet, but he would. Maybe it was as simple as being a frustrated ballplayer.
Whatever the cause, he followed Kat for a bit before deciding he’d rather walk with her.
“Miss Miller.”
She spun around at his words. “Please don’t call me that. She’s”—Kat jerked her chin toward the chaperone—“the only one who calls me that.”
“Bad connotations.”
“You could say that.”
“Sorry about the loss, kid. You kept it close.”
She snorted. “Until the last inning. How do we do that? We’re so close to winning, and then we self-destruct. It’s so frustrating.”
“How about dinner? I’ll distract you from your loss.” He raised his hands before she could protest and put on his most charming smile, the one Polly used to liken to William Holden’s. “We can call it an interview if that makes you feel better.”
Kat stopped and studied him a moment before a gleam appeared in her eyes. “If you can talk Joanie into it, I’m in. And you have to take me to the restaurant next to our hotel.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
Jack considered her words. An angle. Somewhere in them. Suddenly he knew. “So you can meet Dolly.”
“Shh.” Kat looked around, probably not realizing how guilty her actions looked.
“All right. You’ve got a deal. Clean up and meet me in the lobby. I’ll talk to Joanie.” His charm always worked on her. “We’ll get you out for some fraternization.”
Jack cooled his heels in the lobby while Kat changed. As he waited, he scanned the newspaper. The Joliet outfit wasn’t much bigger than Cherry Hill’s but seemed to have more true news stories. The war had heated up in Africa, and he longed to cover the story. He imagined hot sand pelting his face as he hunkered down behind a sand dune. There had to be a way to get to the real action, stop covering the foolishness of the AAGPSL, and cover something that mattered.
Maybe the letter he’d sent off to the United Press International would amount to something this time. A guy had to hope.
Kat swept down the stairs, gorgeous in a fitted blouse and billowing skirt. Delicate slippers encased her feet, and the curls on her head dripped at the edges. She had no idea she stole his breath. When was the last time he’d felt this way about Polly? Maybe it was a good thing—a very good thing—that she’d ended their tentative relationship. Kat’s eyebrows shot up as she caught his gaze. He wiped his expression of surprise and offered her his arm.
“You look great.” Her hand rested lightly on his arm, so he tucked his hand on top. He wouldn’t let this bird fly away.
A soft smile touched her lips, easing the shadow that rested under her eyes. “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat and ushered her to the door. “I hear the restaurant next door is good.”
“Let’s go.” She grinned at him, an impish look. “I hope you brought plenty of cash. I’m as hungry as a horse. Losing does that to me.”
Having her on his arm, he didn’t care about a job overseas or the state of his cash. He only wanted to prolong the moment. They teased each other as they walked across the parking lot.
“The crowd seems enthusiastic.” Kat’s steps stuttered as if she had lost her footing. He glanced at her, surprised to see her cheeks devoid of color.
“Are the rumors true?” She licked her lips, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. “Will they close the league if attendance doesn’t improve?”
They reached the restaurant, and Jack opened the door. “Mr. Wrigley’s got his eye set on making money. That’s the ultimate goal of any venture like this.”
“I wish playing a good game were sufficient.” Kat bobbled through the door then waited for Jack. “He’s changing the league’s name. Like substituting the word baseball for softball will suddenly draw hundreds of people.”
“What could it hurt?” Something had to change. Today’s game had more fans than most. He wondered if that was a feature of Joliet or meant a positive change for the league as a whole. For Kat’s sake, he hoped it signaled a league-wide change.
Kat remained silent, and he glanced at her. In an instant he realized he might as well disappear. Her attention focused on a table in the back. “Dolly!” Kat squealed and hurried to join the girl at the table.
He’d been a means to an end.
Too bad he wanted more.
Much more.
The realization stopped him. Cold. It would never work. He had to distance himself from this kid before he forgot she was too young and his cynical self was no good for her.
“Are you joining us, Jack?” Her dimple appeared as she grinned, all worry about the league seeming to evaporate as she joined Dolly and her teammates at the table. “There’s even a seat by me.”
“No thanks. I’m not interested in being a fifth wheel.” His pride couldn’t handle it. A few of the Jewels batted eyelashes at him, and he reconsidered. What would it hurt? Jack grabbed the chair, flipped it around, and straddled it as Kat’s eyebrows shot up.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Accepting your invitation after all.”
She turned her back on him and launched into an animated conversation with Dolly. After a few minutes of trying to follow their banter, he gave up and focused on the cutie next to him. He was the only man at the table, surrounded by women. Even if Kat avoided him the rest of the evening, he liked the odds. Jack reviewed the small menu. Looked like ethnic food—Slovenian—filled the options. Good thing he was ready to try something new.
“So what are you doing with her when you could be with me?” A brunette winked at him.
He wanted to laugh at her brashness but decided to play along. “I’m her ticket to break free.”
The woman considered his words. The candles flickered, sending shadows flitting around the table. A waitress came along and took their orders.
“I can’t understand why she’s more interested in Dolly than you. Her loss.”
“Dolly seems like a good kid.”
The woman snorted, charm school forgotten or abandoned. “It’ll take awhile for her to fit in with the team. I don’t know why they decided to shift players at this point in the season. Not great for team unity.”
“They’re trying to keep the teams balanced.”
“So they say.”
The candles flickered again, and Kat stiffened next to him. “Oh no.”
Jack turned to see what had her on edge. Joanie strode toward them, a grimace fixed on her face.
“Katherine Miller, you know the rules. There’s no fraternizing with another team’s members. Come with me.”
Kat’s chin jerked up, and he sensed her turmoil. Would she acquiesce or let the woman have it? He knew which he rooted for, but Kat didn’t have it in her.
ten
Two more games, split between a win and a loss, and the Blossoms headed back to Cherry Hill. Not a moment too soon. Kat didn’t know how much more of living under Joanie’s microscope she could handle. If she’d understood how quickly one simple dinner would put her on Joanie’s list, she might have followed the rules. Instead she now had to check in with Joanie first thing in the morning and clear all of her nonpractice and nongame activities.
But it had been worth it. She’d needed the time with a friend. Someone who cared about her and not about how she played that day.
Kat didn’t think this string of games would ever end. She didn’t want to spend another night trying to sleep on a train as the team traveled to the next city. Instead she’d end up watching one or two groups play cards, while another group belted out song after off-key song. Then they’d stagger from the train in Cherry Hill with one day to recover before hitting the grind again with home games—and that only if she didn’t count the late-afternoon practice.
Her bed at the Harrisons’ home was all she wanted. The privacy of a room, no matter how small, that she shared with no one and could close the door of sounded so wonderful she almost cried.
Yet another sign the stress of travel and the game schedule had hit home.
She tried to stifle a yawn that threatened to break her jaw.
“Come here, kid.”
She looked down at Jack, his look inviting her to sit down even as his nickname grated. Joanie jumped to her feet, and Kat shuffled forward. The leash had tightened since her escapade with Dolly. Why couldn’t Jack find another car filled with new passengers to annoy rather than allow his presence to remind Joanie of Kat’s transgressions?
“Good night, Jack.” She whispered the words as she stumbled down the lurching car, settling in a vacant row. For once she wouldn’t fight a losing battle with a dozen soldiers for a seat. Tucking her purse under her head, she curled up on the seats. Not as comfortable as her bed at home. She closed her eyes against sudden moisture. What she wouldn’t give for one night at home, familiar food, and people who loved her for who she was, not what she did.
This was not the time to break down. Not where her teammates could watch. They didn’t need ammunition reinforcing the fact she didn’t have their level of sophistication. Some days she didn’t want their maturity. Other times she wished for the hard shell some of them wore. Its protection worked for them.
A weight plopped in front of her, rocking the seat back. She prayed it wasn’t Jack. No matter how much she pretended, he wasn’t one of her brother’s friends, someone she could pal around with and not wish for more. No, Jack had worked his way deeper.
Kat opened her eyes and relaxed when she caught Manager Addebary watching her. “Sir?”
“How you doing, kid?”
She pushed up to a sitting position, pulling on her A-Okay face. “I’m fine.”
He studied her in a way that suggested he saw through her words. “I hope so. Anyway, I have news for you.”
“You’re shipping me home.” She bit her lower lip to steel herself against tears.
“No. Not this time anyway. Too many escapades like you had with the Jewels and my hands might be tied.” He held up his hand as she started to protest. “Listen, kid, I understand. It’s been lonely for you. But rules are rules.
“Anyway, we got the list for the all-star game next week at Wrigley. You’re on the team. Just keep Joanie happy for a week, and you’ll play. You might volunteer for the USO dance, too. You know how she feels about those.”
“Yes sir.” She rocked on the seat. “Can I tell anyone?”
“I’d wait until it’s in the paper in the morning. No need for them to hear about it from you. Let others share the good news for you. Should keep things simpler around here.” He pushed up. “I’ve got a few more to tell. Keep up the effort, Katherine.”
Her eyes misted at the proud, paternal tone in his voice.
❧
Good for her. Jack wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t overheard the news. Instead he enjoyed watching wonder fill Kat’s eyes. She looked at him with a who me? shrug of her shoulders. Jack considered moving to the seat next to her and hugging her but kept his distance. She’d be embarrassed by the demonstration—even if he meant it in celebration
He winked at her and left it at that as soft color flooded her face.
She half turned away, as if to avoid seeing him, but not fast enough. Jack saw the grin and knew she enjoyed the mild flirting as much as the next girl. But since he’d met her in Chicago last month, there’d been no one else for him. He didn’t even miss Polly, which felt a little odd after spending time with her most weeks since he’d arrived in Cherry Hill. Still, her appeal had dimmed in Kat’s light. Kat fascinated him from the top of her curly head to the tips of her toes that knew how to slide into base as well as the next guy.
What a paradox.
And headed to the USO dance. Jack smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Kat in that environment. Surrounded by red-blooded American men headed to one of the fronts. Should be a shock to her system. It was one thing to do a victory formation at each game. An entirely different thing to be hounded by men who might not see a woman for months. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration since these men hadn’t shipped out yet.
The train slowed in jerks and starts. Jack rocked with the train and looked out the window. The northern Indiana landscape that surrounded Cherry Hill pulled into view. The town’s grove of cherry trees looked wilted under the intense heat, but the leaves fluttered. He hoped the breeze would cool him once he stepped off the train.
A glance at his watch showed he had time to swing by his room before hurrying to the newspaper to write tomorrow’s stories. Maybe that all-important letter from UPI waited.
He edged to the front of the car and detrained as soon as the last shudder swept through the cars. He tipped his hat at Kat and hurried down the platform toward the depot. As the sun blazed, Jack rolled up his shirtsleeves, juggling his satchel all the while.
By the time he reached his apartment, sweat rolled down his back. He’d need a shower before he worked his way to the office. His landlady had stacked his mail on the table as usual, and he grabbed it before collapsing on his bed. He flipped through the envelopes, stopping only when he found the one with the UPI logo. Tossing the rest of the mail on the floor, he ripped open the envelope.
Dear Mr. Raymond,
Thank you for your letter of inquiry. At this time we have no openings for reporters whose experience is focused on sports and women’s sports at that. We wish you the best in your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
The Editors
United Press International
Jack crumpled up the letter.
The contents shouldn’t surprise him. Why would a service like UPI take him seriously? He remained a small-town nobody covering a nonexistent sport. If things didn’t change soon, he wouldn’t even report on the league.
He needed to make something happen.
He wouldn’t leave his destiny in the hands of anonymous men sitting in some high-rise in a big city. No, he’d do what he did best. Write stories that garnered their attention. The kind of stories that made them sit up and notice his skills. And he’d ask Ed for a new assignment. One that better positioned him to leave.
In a rush he cleaned up, changed, and headed to the Cherry Hill Gazette. If he was in luck, Ed would be there and he could tackle the last item on his list.
He winked at Doreen. “That’s a smart outfit.”
The woman blushed to the tips of her gray hair.
“Is Ed in?”
“Gulping an antacid. Be forewarned.”
Jack patted her desk. “Thank you, ma’am.” He strode across the newsroom to Ed’s office. The door stood closed with the blinds drawn. Usually that signaled it was a good time to give Ed space. Right now Jack didn’t care. He rapped on the door and opened it before Ed answered. He sauntered into the room and plopped into the chair in front of Ed’s desk.
A fizzy glass bubbled on the corner of the battered desk. Ed had his back to the door, phone pinned by his shoulder against his ear. “Fine. Keep me updated.” He spun around and slammed the phone down. “Bureaucrats.” He looked at Jack. “What are you doing here?”
“Writing your lead article for tomorrow’s paper.”
Ed snorted. “Doubt that. You’ve got to give me more than these blow-by-blow accounts of the games.” He rubbed his hands across his balding scalp. “We’ll never fill the stands this way.”
“I wanted to talk about that. How about running a contest?” Jack laced his fingers and leaned forward. His mind raced as the idea came to him. “We could have a kiss-the-player contest. Sell war bonds in the process. A direct link to helping the war effort. More than the V formation and an occasional USO dance.”
“How do you get the players to agree?”
“The typical spiel about doing their part for the war.” Jack could even think of a player from whom he’d buy a war bond in order to kiss.
Ed cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”
“Marlene Dietrich and other stars have done it across the country. Why not our stars? Let’s paint them as the stars we want them to be. More than hawking groceries for Bill’s Market. Maybe it could be a campaign that culminates with the Cherry Hill Festival at the end of July.”
