might wanna work on your couch-side manner, doll. Either that, or resign yourself to throwing Tupperware parties the rest of your life.”
The sound of her agitated breathing filled the enclosed space. He glanced over, distracted by the rapid rise and fall of her white shirt pocket. There wasn’t much under there, but what there was had a damn nice shape.
“You know what I think?” she asked, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. “I’ll tell you what I think. I thinkyou’re the one who resigned yourself to throwing Tupperware parties.”
He snapped to wary attention.
“Figuratively speaking,” she added. “You resigned yourself to giving up college and playing baseball for a father you loved and respected. A father who, by himself, had neither the athletic talent nor the opportunity to escape Littleton—”
“You don’t know what—”
“A father who discovered,” she interrupted loudly, “that by living vicariously through his son, he could achieve his own personal dream. Even if that dream wasn’t shared.”
Joe’s heart had started racing at the first hint of her conclusion. He drove now on automatic pilot, turningleft into the entrance of a large apartment complex called Timber Trails. Crawling over concrete bumps he normally hit at teeth-jarring speed, he followed the winding driveway to building D and swung into a parking space.
How had Catherine guessed he’d wanted to go to college? No one but Mrs. Henkel had known about his hesitant desire, born during his senior year, to keep learning something besides baseball strategy, to maybe even help other kids learn, too. Mrs. Henke had thought he’d make a wonderful teacher and had gone to his house as a personal favor to crusade for acceptance of a scholarship.
Big Joe had laughed in her face. And God help him, Joe had avoided that wonderful old lady’s disappointed gaze and agreed with his dad.
“When did he die, Joe?”
He blinked twice and scrubbed his face in both palms.
“Your father, I mean.”
Lowering his hands, he stared at the dashboard and laughed bitterly. “Two months before the Astros called me up from their farm in Tucson, Mom found him underneath Ed Parker’s Buick with a wrench still clutched in his hand. Massive coronary, the doctors said.”
“Oh, Joe.” Her voice wrapped him in a hug.
“Two friggin’ months, Catherine. Seeing me play major-league baseball was all he ever wanted, all either of us ever worked for. Fat lotta difference it made. We’re all just pawns in the end.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t! This minute, this very second we’re living right now, is the only truth there is. Thecommercial was right. You’ve gotta grab all the gusto from life you can— when you can—because the best planning in the world won’t change fate.”
“So you don’t plan for the future,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “I guess that means you won’t ever buy a house, won’t get married again, won’t save for Allie’s college—”
“Leave my daughter out of this.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about your aversion to marriage.”
“Let’s not.”
“Allie needs a mother.”
“Allie has a father, dammit! A broken-down has-been who’s doing his sorry best to start a new career and take decent care of her. I sure as hell don’t want or need the burden of a wife on top of that.”
“Oh, that’s right. Why build a happy family when fate could turn on you and ruin everything?” Her neutral mask dissolved into disgust. “That’s a coward’s way of thinking. It puts the burden of responsibility for your actions on some nebulous scapegoat.”
“Wrong, Sigmund. That’s a realist’s way of thinking. But you go on scheduling every trip to the John if it makes you feel more in control. I won’t burst your bubble.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected. Anger probably. For damn sure not the gentle compassion softening her features.
“I got sidetracked from the real
The sound of her agitated breathing filled the enclosed space. He glanced over, distracted by the rapid rise and fall of her white shirt pocket. There wasn’t much under there, but what there was had a damn nice shape.
“You know what I think?” she asked, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. “I’ll tell you what I think. I thinkyou’re the one who resigned yourself to throwing Tupperware parties.”
He snapped to wary attention.
“Figuratively speaking,” she added. “You resigned yourself to giving up college and playing baseball for a father you loved and respected. A father who, by himself, had neither the athletic talent nor the opportunity to escape Littleton—”
“You don’t know what—”
“A father who discovered,” she interrupted loudly, “that by living vicariously through his son, he could achieve his own personal dream. Even if that dream wasn’t shared.”
Joe’s heart had started racing at the first hint of her conclusion. He drove now on automatic pilot, turningleft into the entrance of a large apartment complex called Timber Trails. Crawling over concrete bumps he normally hit at teeth-jarring speed, he followed the winding driveway to building D and swung into a parking space.
How had Catherine guessed he’d wanted to go to college? No one but Mrs. Henkel had known about his hesitant desire, born during his senior year, to keep learning something besides baseball strategy, to maybe even help other kids learn, too. Mrs. Henke had thought he’d make a wonderful teacher and had gone to his house as a personal favor to crusade for acceptance of a scholarship.
Big Joe had laughed in her face. And God help him, Joe had avoided that wonderful old lady’s disappointed gaze and agreed with his dad.
“When did he die, Joe?”
He blinked twice and scrubbed his face in both palms.
“Your father, I mean.”
Lowering his hands, he stared at the dashboard and laughed bitterly. “Two months before the Astros called me up from their farm in Tucson, Mom found him underneath Ed Parker’s Buick with a wrench still clutched in his hand. Massive coronary, the doctors said.”
“Oh, Joe.” Her voice wrapped him in a hug.
“Two friggin’ months, Catherine. Seeing me play major-league baseball was all he ever wanted, all either of us ever worked for. Fat lotta difference it made. We’re all just pawns in the end.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t! This minute, this very second we’re living right now, is the only truth there is. Thecommercial was right. You’ve gotta grab all the gusto from life you can— when you can—because the best planning in the world won’t change fate.”
“So you don’t plan for the future,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “I guess that means you won’t ever buy a house, won’t get married again, won’t save for Allie’s college—”
“Leave my daughter out of this.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about your aversion to marriage.”
“Let’s not.”
“Allie needs a mother.”
“Allie has a father, dammit! A broken-down has-been who’s doing his sorry best to start a new career and take decent care of her. I sure as hell don’t want or need the burden of a wife on top of that.”
“Oh, that’s right. Why build a happy family when fate could turn on you and ruin everything?” Her neutral mask dissolved into disgust. “That’s a coward’s way of thinking. It puts the burden of responsibility for your actions on some nebulous scapegoat.”
“Wrong, Sigmund. That’s a realist’s way of thinking. But you go on scheduling every trip to the John if it makes you feel more in control. I won’t burst your bubble.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected. Anger probably. For damn sure not the gentle compassion softening her features.
“I got sidetracked from the real
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