Her Veterinarian Hero, page 10
“You have an observant eye.” The knot in Tyler’s gut twinged. He’d become more observant the moment she’d come into his life, not that he would ever admit it.
Olivia picked at a fleck of orange paint.
“I know my way around a canvas, but that’s not quite what I do back home. I help people, mainly children, who are struggling. Creating artwork can help them express how they feel or what they’re worried or scared about.”
Tyler perked up. He didn’t know such a job existed. She certainly was intriguing.
“What kinds of things are they struggling with?” he asked.
“Depends on the client. Anxiety, grief, stress...all sorts of things. It helps shy children boost their self-esteem. It helps delayed children improve their social skills. It’s another tool in the toolbox to help children communicate.”
“Like Micah?”
Tyler hung a left toward the baseball field as Olivia managed a nod.
“It works best when the child doesn’t get annoyed with the art therapist. You can imagine how much success I’ve had with him, huh?”
“Have you tried it with him?” Tyler could imagine the challenges of doing therapy with a parent. When he was Micah’s age, he wouldn’t have taken to the idea about therapy, either, although anything would have been better than what both of his mother figures had done. Neither of them had even attempted to talk to him after what happened with his dad. Anything would have been better than pretending the pain wasn’t there.
“So,” Olivia said, the cadence of her voice nervously kicking up half a notch. “What kind of baseball team does Gary play for again? You know I’ve watched more professional baseball games in my life than I’d ever care to count.”
“I can imagine,” Tyler said, surprised by the sudden change of subject. If the topics of Micah and art therapy converged again, he realized he should tread very carefully. By the way Olivia picked at the paint on her fingernails, he could tell Micah’s therapy was a very tender point. “This isn’t a professional game. Far from it.”
She smiled at that. “In all the summers I spent here, my mother and I never attended a game. Can you believe that?”
“I can. This league is only two years old.”
“Is it a senior league?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, now I’m really curious.”
He pulled into a gravel parking lot behind several rows of bleachers. Some people were milling about as others spread blankets on the grass. Children scampered around, some flailing silver pinwheels. Tyler hopped out of the truck and retrieved two bottles of water from his tailgate cooler. He led them around the edge of the bleachers, and when they spotted the baseball diamond, he stopped.
“Don’t you love the sight of it?” he said. He’d always appreciated the twinge of excitement that took hold when he attended a baseball game. He appreciated how ingrained it was not just in American culture, but in his childhood. He and his dad had gotten in a lot of good years playing catch before the day came that divided his childhood into two distinct halves. The first half was the before, the second half was the after, and he did his best to avoid conversations that made him talk about it in any more detail than that.
Tyler drew a long, deep breath. Recently cut grass, freshly popped popcorn, sunscreen, dirt and the last rays of summer sunshine—all of it mingled in his nasal cavity at the base of his memory. All at once he was flooded not just with memories of playing Little League and spotting his dad in the bleachers, but of the life that he had experienced in the before.
Olivia drew her own breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “Baseball was such a big part of my marriage and Micah’s childhood I can’t keep from loving it. Without it now, I feel like I’ve been playing hooky from a part of my life for the past two years.”
Tyler had never heard anyone describe their life in that way, but it made a lot of sense to him. He’d been playing hooky from plenty of things since the after.
For a brief moment, as she stood beside him nearly shoulder to shoulder, everyone else seemed to disappear. It was strange to feel such a connection with another person, someone whom he didn’t know very well. It felt dangerous to get too settled, too comfortable with the feeling, because he didn’t know where it would lead from there. In the past, just hoping for connection had led to very painful places.
Tyler looked around, eager to snap out of the moment as quickly as possible. When he spotted a young girl carrying a candy concession box, he winked at Olivia. “Wait here a second.”
He jogged over to the girl and after a quick transaction, he slipped a package into his pocket and returned.
“Getting your box of Cracker Jacks?” Olivia said.
“Even better. Come on. The best seats are this way.” Tyler led Olivia toward a densely wooded hill beyond third base. “I used to come here with my buddies, back in the day.”
“I wonder if I ever saw you,” Olivia said. “Not here at games but around town.”
“Did you go to the Fourth of July parades?”
“Every year.”
“The Lollipop?”
“Of course!” Olivia said with a laugh. “It was always one of our first stops when we got into town.”
As he watched her match his stride, step-by-step, he thought her the loveliest woman he’d met in a long time.
The crowd was growing by the moment and Olivia had noticed.
“The bleachers are filling up,” she said. “We won’t get a seat unless we hurry. Are we sitting on top of the scoreboard or something?”
“Now, that’s an idea,” Tyler said. “Maybe next time.”
Once they’d gotten twenty yards from third base, he jetted left to the edge of the woods and up a steep, narrow path. A few grade school children dug in the dirt, but they popped up and ran back to the bleachers when they spotted him.
“You have certainly piqued my curiosity,” she said. “Where on earth are we going?”
The beaten path rose steeper. Tree roots arched out of the ground, giving conveniently placed steps to help them navigate, but it was still a climb that required them to grab tree branches along the way for support.
“Are you okay?” he asked, glancing back at her. She accepted his offered hand, and when he grasped her slender fingers in his, it felt as natural as if he’d already done it a hundred times before. He pulled her up the sharpest part of the incline and couldn’t help but think of the first time they’d met. Before he’d seen her face or looked into those deep, brown eyes of hers, he’d pulled her into his arms. He’d been scared witless, the gravity of the situation slamming his heart against his chest plate until he thought it would burst through. But now, without that element of danger, he could relax and enjoy the climb. He could enjoy the warmth of her hand in his as he anticipated the look on her face when she saw what was at the top of the hill. “Just a little farther now,” he promised. “It’ll be worth it.”
She hoisted herself up to the top with him. When they’d both made it to level ground, she gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it as they both caught their breath.
“Tyler,” she said, glancing around the wooded spot. “You certainly keep things interesting.”
It was cool in the woods, shaded from the setting sun. The low-hanging trees felt like privacy curtains against the rest of the world, and he could tell she was considering this. Quiet murmurs of the crowd awaiting the game faded to background noise as his ears pricked to her soft breathing. Her chest rose and fell slower with each breath, as did his.
Her smile faded as she felt the weight of his stare on her face. He thought he should tear his eyes away and get on with showing her exactly what it was he’d brought her here to see, but for a moment, all he wanted to do was stand quietly with her for as long as she’d allow. The moment was the most peace he’d felt since he couldn’t remember when.
Her skin had a shiny dew from the climb, and it brought out the highlights of her cheeks. For a moment he saw nothing else.
When his eyes met hers again, her lips parted. He thought she might say something, might ask why he’d brought her to this place, which had become a refuge for him in the first years of the after. But he didn’t want to think about that now or even explain to himself why he had brought her here when she would have been perfectly content to watch the game from the bleachers.
A beat passed and then another as her lashes fluttered up at him, a bit awkward perhaps, but trusting. She had trusted him to pull her off the ledge of Falcon’s Peak. And she had trusted him enough to talk about her struggles with Micah. The way she had confided in him, even if it was just a hint at times, he knew it wasn’t something he should take lightly. He didn’t want to do anything to break that trust.
All at once he felt unpracticed in how to behave around her, simultaneously wanting to draw her close while wanting to escape all the same. To keep the moment from stretching too long, he shuffled toward a nearby perch above a ten-foot drop.
“Best seats in the house.”
She balked playfully. “You know how I am around steep ledges.”
“Yes. Bold.”
His comment landed exactly how he’d intended when her face broke into a grin of agreement. She sat on the matted grass and dangled her feet over the edge as he sat beside her.
Looking up at the branches arching above them, she mused, “It looks like a natural pergola.”
“People used to prune these trees to make them grow this way. It’s not entirely natural.”
She stared up. “It’s beautiful all the same. These are definitely the best seats in the house.”
“You’re in for one of the best games, too.”
The baseball diamond was kept up well but it was old. The scoreboards at the back of the outfield hadn’t been updated in decades, and the concession stand looked like a stiff wind could topple it. Still, the eager fans, who had shown up in droves, didn’t seem to care. They cheered as a man around fifty years old ran onto the field.
“This is where they hold Little League games and community leagues. But the league playing tonight is...unique.”
His voice taunted as her eyes followed the man. He wore a vintage, white and blue-collared uniform shirt and pants, blue knee-high socks, and a blue-and-white striped flat-top cap. He even wore a blue necktie, end tucked between the buttons on his shirt. He tossed a baseball in the air and caught it as players of various ages, dressed in matching vintage uniforms, ran out from the dugout.
Olivia hooted with glee. “Is this a historical baseball game?”
“Surprised?”
“Delighted!”
The first batter, beautifully donning the opposing team’s white-and-red stripes, swung a few practice swings with an old-fashioned baseball bat. Even from a distance, the bat was noticeably longer and fatter than modern bats.
“He looks like he could crack it all the way to us with that thing,” Olivia said.
“The baseball is softer than what they use today. He needs that bat to propel it.”
“Are they playing by vintage rules?”
Tyler scratched his chin. “Yes, but I’m hard-pressed to remember them all. I know it’s underhand pitching only with no fast balls. Runners can’t lead off, and if a ball is caught on a bounce, it’s an out.”
“Interesting,” Olivia said. “What rules are those?”
“Circa 1870, I think. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yep.” She grinned. “I have to give it to you. In all the years of watching baseball, I’ve never seen a historical game.”
A sturdy man dressed in an umpire uniform brushed the dirt off home plate and called for the teams to play ball. The crowd cheered as the pitcher took the mound.
“Except,” Olivia said, “it’s a shame there aren’t any women on the field.”
“The women’s league plays on Saturdays.”
“Historical?”
“1940s.”
Olivia laughed. “I love that. We’ll have to bring Micah.”
She said it so casually, as if planning a future outing for the three of them was a natural extension of their time together.
“When I was a kid,” he said, “this place felt like my secret hideout.” He stopped himself, surprised he’d blurted out something he’d never told anyone. Sure, his childhood friends had come up here with him after they had ridden their bikes to the baseball diamond to play a game. They had taken breaks from the hot sun to hide in the woods and drink Dr Pepper. But he’d come here many more times alone, after those carefree years, and every time he had come here, he hadn’t told a soul where he was going. He couldn’t think what had come over him to blurt out his secret just now.
“Micah has been spending a lot of time in the woods behind Hattie’s cottage. I get the feeling he’s making his own secret refuge out there, to escape...”
“To escape what?”
“If I’m being honest, to escape me.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “I feel like the tree line between Hattie’s backyard and woods represents an invisible boundary I shouldn’t cross. I get the impression I shouldn’t go back there, at least not until he invites me.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” Tyler said, impressed she had the fortitude to understand a young man’s need for independence so well. “To consider that.”
“Thanks. What about your secret hideout? Did you come here a lot?”
“Uh. I guess.”
“Don’t you know for sure?” Her lips curled and he could tell she was teasing, not pressing him to divulge any trade secrets of his past.
He shrugged and looked out at the baseball diamond to recalibrate his feelings. Sitting and talking with her felt so easy, but that didn’t mean he could let his guard down. In his experience, love was a trap that blinded you to what a person was really like until things went pear-shaped. These moments were nice even if they wouldn’t last.
He caught a glimpse of Olivia’s perfect profile and had a hard time imagining her as anything other than what he saw. He tried to imagine her changing, showing true colors that were uglier than the rose-tinged ones he saw now.
“Being back here in Roseley...” she said. “If nostalgia isn’t a powerful thing.”
“It can hit you when you least expect it.”
“Gosh, yes.” Her face fell serious as she peeled at the label on her water bottle, fingertips scrapping over the plastic. “I can go about my day and then uncover an old note stuck in a book and...”
Whether or not she realized it, she was pulling away from him and he knew he was losing her to—
“Jeb?” he asked.
“And my mother,” she said softly. “They’re nowhere but they’re still everywhere, too. Thinking of Jeb isn’t nostalgia just yet. It’s still grief.”
Tyler sucked a breath, wishing he couldn’t identify with Olivia’s experience. They were both part of a club for which they didn’t want to hold a membership.
“Does it barrel at you like a freight train?” he said, sadly recalling those first few months after he’d lost his dad.
“Hmm, no.” Olivia paused for a moment before continuing slowly. “It sinks and sinks. Most mornings I wake up and remind myself that the only way through the day is to swim hard for the surface.”
“I’m sure it’s been...” What? What comfort could he offer? He knew what it was like to lose a parent, especially a parent who meant the world to you. But losing a spouse had to be different. He didn’t know anything about that. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how to. “Is there anything I can do?” he finally said.
“You’re already doing it.” Her voice brightened slightly. “Micah needs a place to go to find a new version of himself. Providing that environment at the clinic will work wonders. I know it.”
“He’d probably like it up here,” Tyler said, looking at the baseball diamond. “He’s the right age.”
“For a secret hideout?” He found her smiling now, and relief washed over him that they were wandering back to safer topics, ones that didn’t make his heart clench. “Most mothers are worried about the trouble their kid could get into,” she continued, “but most days my wish is for him to get back out into the world and stir it up.”
“He is. And on that note...”
“What?”
Tyler played with the soft register of his voice. “I think the time is finally right for...”
“For...” Olivia’s body stiffened.
“My favorite part of the evening, if you think you can handle it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OLIVIA STARED UP at him, uncertainty in her eyes. “I need to know what it is first.”
Tyler shook his head. “I think you already know what I’m talking about. From what I’ve gathered about you, I’d say you’re the kind of woman who has been thinking about it ever since we arrived. I know I have.” He fluttered his eyebrows wildly, letting her in on the fact that he was joking.
Olivia contorted her mouth and delivered a dry line. “I think your ego is severely misjudging my feelings right now.”
Tyler laughed and quickly pulled something from his pocket. He hid it behind his back. After a moment, he presented her with two balled fists. When she playfully tapped on his left hand, he opened it to reveal—
“Bazooka bubblegum? I haven’t had this in forever.” She snatched one, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. “Yum. It even tastes pink.”
“It’s the best, right?” He popped a piece into his mouth, savoring the flavor of childhood.
Olivia giggled. “The best.” She settled back on her hands as Tyler lay back in the grass and propped himself up on an elbow.
“Cheering is only fun when you’re surrounded by a lot of people,” she said. “The quiet is nice, though.”
“Do you get much of it?”
