Out of His League Page 11

  Brandon shrugged. “Well, I came in here last week. The day I met you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like to remember.”

  “You like to remember when you were sick?”

  “My mom was with me all the time then. My aunt and my grandmother were, too. Everybody wanted to help me. And I prayed to get better, and I did.”

  Jon eased his shaky knees into a chair and imagined Brandon as a younger kid, Bobby’s age at the time Jon’s mother had died. It was too much for him to comprehend.

  The kid picked up a TV remote. Last winter, a group of local hockey players had been filmed visiting this very community room, signing caps and T-shirts for the kids and posing for photos as they gave interviews to the local newscaster. Jon had watched it at home on the television news, feeling slightly sick, thinking that could never be him in the hockey players’ role. When his mom was sick, Jon would have hated cameras in his face. Hated public figures showing up to give him “joy.”

  How could there be joy when people were sick and dying in front of you?

  And now he was going to be one of those people? Or, he was considering being one of those people. He hadn’t taken the jump into being one of them yet.

  He shook his head. This was the truth behind the ambivalence that he hadn’t been able to articulate to Brooke. It wasn’t that he was against charity. He did charity appearances, but quietly. Not in front of the cameras, and never in front of sick families. Ever. It just hit too close to home.

  But he remained in the adult chair in the sunny children’s room and watched Brandon hold out the TV remote and flip through channels, stopping only when he found a television station playing cartoons. Just as if the kid was at home, spread out on his own comfortable couch. Maybe Jon could handle coming here if he thought like that. There had to be something to the fact that he was with Brandon, himself a cancer survivor, while Jon had recently undergone a cancer scare himself.

  He concentrated on relaxing his muscles into the chair. He let go of the proverbial pole keeping him close to the dock, and he waded through chest-high water, to the deep end of the pool.

  But he heard movement at the door, and immediately he recoiled. A little girl, her skin bloodless, her head covered in a pink Captains baseball cap, had a thumb tucked in her mouth and her head leaning against her father’s shoulder.

  Jon stood, walked past them without looking and went back into the hallway. He sucked air into his lungs, but the corridor smelled like...chemicals. Syringes. Disinfectants. All the smells he associated with that time in his life when his family was in pain. All of those feelings he so studiously steered clear of. So reflexively avoided, his entire life.

  How could Lizzy even work in a place that contained these things?

  Brandon appeared at his side. “I know it’s hard, Jon, but you have to keep a smile on your face.”

  Jon looked down at the kid. “A very good point. Which is why I’m leaving, buddy.”

  “Wait, Jon. I bet you can find something to smile about here,” Brandon said.

  “Is that what you do?” Jon asked. “Find something to smile about?”

  “My mom says it helps people. Everybody likes to see a smile.”

  “Sometimes, kid, there’s nothing to smile about.”

  “Oh, you can always find something. Did you see the cartoons on the TV?”

  Jon shook his head. “That little girl looked...too sick for cartoons.” She wasn’t going to make it. He just knew she wasn’t going to make it. It was like watching an execution in process and he was powerless to stop it.

  It made him angry. Sick inside and wanting desperately to take action, but what?

  Maybe he should just do the damn bachelor auction. Stand up on a block and let them bid on him. It was abhorrent to him, like Lizzy had said and, yet, easier than trying to smile in the midst of so many terminally ill kids.

  The man who’d been carrying the sick girl came into the hallway and approached Jon, looking hesitant. “Excuse me, but I’m a big Captains fan. I recognized your hair. Are you...?”

  “Yes, he is,” Brandon piped up.

  The man smiled at Jon and held out his hand. He seemed exhausted, tired and worn-out. “I just want to say thank you.”

  Jon kept his hand at his side. “Why? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah, you do, every time you pitch. My family has been here...lots of days and nights this past summer.” He raked back his hair with the hand Jon hadn’t shaken. “Rebecca...she’s my daughter...she likes to sit with me and watch your games on television. It takes our mind off the chemotherapy, and...it’s our escape. Our joy. No matter what happens, whether we win or lose, I’ll always remember those good times spent with her. You helped bring that.”

  Jon’s throat tightened with emotion. Never, not once in all his years playing baseball—a kids’ game, once you got right down to it—had anyone ever said something like that to him.

  “May I say hello to Rebecca?” he asked in a low voice.

  The man brightened. “Please. Come in and meet her.” He turned and held out his hand again. “I’m Frank, by the way.”

  The same name as Jon’s brother. It had to be a sign. Jon returned Frank’s handshake and followed him back to the community room.

  Rebecca was inside, sitting limply in the corner of the couch. Her pallor was gray and her eyes seemed lifeless. But her dad sat beside her and lifted her onto his lap. “Becky, this is somebody we’ve watched on TV together. Jon is a Captains player.”

  Becky removed her thumb from her mouth and silently regarded Jon. A slight smile crossed her face. She didn’t seem to have much energy, but she slowly placed her small hand in Jon’s outstretched hand.

  When she weakly clasped his fingers, Jon could feel the wetness from where her thumb had been in her mouth. But she didn’t take her hand away. She left it there in his.

  Jon sank to his knees. He stayed with Becky and her dad until Becky fell asleep. They’d shared no words. Brandon’s cartoon played on in the background.

  “Thank you,” Becky’s dad, Frank, said quietly to him. “This means a lot to us.”

  Jon nodded, feeling the lump in his throat. But at the same time, he felt...at peace, which was odd. He felt more true to himself, as well. He didn’t want to leave Becky and Frank just yet. Their presence fed something authentic in him. But another little boy came into the community room, with both parents and what looked to be a grandmother walking beside him.

  It was the grandmother who recognized Jon first. Apparently the stretch of “Captains Nation” extended to all generations, and both sexes in New England. The grandmother excitedly talked to Jon about watching Captains games with her own father, which led to her telling the sick boy about the great-grandfather he’d never met, and an exciting baseball game they’d been to together, just after World War II.

  Jon loved the history. He’d grown up hearing these stories from his own dad and grandfather, and it made him feel good to think about his connection to the team this way. He loved the smiles that he and his team affiliation got from the family, who had definitely not been smiling when they’d entered the room. They asked Jon why he was here, and Jon introduced them to Brandon, who was immediately in his element telling the other little boy exactly how he had been in his shoes once, too.

  An hour later, when Jon left the community room, he was still dazed. Maybe a bit shaken, but refreshed. His experience talking with those families had shown him an entirely different perspective on his life, one he’d never anticipated.

  He felt like his world was expanding. That he was bigger and more influential than he’d realized, but in a humble way that gave him quiet satisfaction and lifted his spirit.

  Those kids and their families had helped him to see himself in a different light.

  Astonished, he stood before the elevator bank.

  “The next time,” Brandon said to him, “you should bring some T-shirts or something like that with you.�
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  Jon turned to him. “The next time?”

  “The kids will like meeting you, Jon. You’re good at talking to them.”

  Yes. Yes, he was.

  And he was going to do something about it, too. He nodded to Brandon. “Can you take me to the lady who’s in charge of the Sunshine Club?”

  “Okay.” Brandon showed him down a corridor to a small side wing. He pointed. “There are offices down there.”

  Jon checked the nameplates on the doors until he found a public relations manager.

  Susan Vanderbilt wore a badge indicating that she worked for the hospital, but rather than wearing scrubs or a nurse’s uniform—so prevalent on the ward—she was dressed in a professional skirt and blouse.

  She recognized Jon right off the bat, which was helpful. Still, Jon introduced himself, shaking her hand, and ignored the flirtatious smile she initially gave him.

  “I would like to help out with the Sunshine Club,” he told Susan. “I hope it’s okay, but I just spent time in the community room with young Brandon here. Brandon is a Sunshine Club graduate.”

  Susan’s hand lingered in Jon’s. She was definitely interested. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, however I can be of best use to the program. I’m interested in fund-raising, but to tell the truth, bachelor auctions aren’t my style.”

  “I do have another opportunity,” she blurted out. Her face lit up like fireworks. “Vivian Sharpe, one of our board members, has asked me to organize the production of a commercial television video. I hadn’t thought of using Captains players—we were planning on taking the cameras on the floor and filming the staff interacting with patients—but I’m liking the idea of trying you out instead.” She put her finger to her lips and stared at him as if picturing him on television. “I’m liking it very much.”

  “Vivian is my team’s owner,” Jon said. “I, uh...think I could do a video for her.” Was this a gift horse or what?

  Susan eyed him up and down. “Are you comfortable on camera? Because the purpose is to bring public awareness to the Sunshine Club. We’ll be embarking on a fund drive this month, and if all goes well, you could be the face of the campaign.”

  A campaign? That involved much more than a single shoot on a single day. A campaign was more permanent. More...out there.

  His palms felt sweaty. Now what?

  Brandon nudged him.

  “Ah, tell me what the campaign involves,” Jon said.

  “To begin with, we’re talking two weeks to shoot video footage. Starting next week, you’ll come in every other weekday for a full afternoon. We’ll take time with some of the kids. Now and then we’ll bring in different media—a camera crew, of course, and maybe some reporters or bloggers. It’s a long-term commitment, if you have the availability.”

  “It’s the off-season.” Jon thought ahead to his pitching sessions...maybe he could duck out for a few afternoons a week. Max had said it was important to show a high profile with Vivian, after all. He would need to explain to Coach Duffy, but for this, he would understand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Brandon tugged on his shirt. “I can help, too!”

  “Is he your boy?” Susan asked.

  “No, his aunt is a doctor at the hospital. Like I said, he’s a graduate from the Sunshine Club. He helped me today with the kids.”

  “I’m a survivor,” Brandon said to her. “Jon needs me to help him!”

  Susan gazed at him. Sadly, what Brandon had said was true. Jon shrugged. “The kid’s good. He’s smart and perceptive. I would welcome his help.”

  Susan bent to Brandon. “If your parents agree, would you like to work with us?”

  “My aunt will let me.” Brandon’s eyes were wide. “I want to do it!”

  Susan straightened, smiling brightly at Jon. “If you give me your email, I’ll forward everything you need to know.” She handed him a business card.

  He would send her contact info to Brooke tonight. “That, ah, sounds great.”

  Susan peered at him. “Forgive me for asking, but if I’m remembering correctly, weren’t you planning on cutting your hair for charity?”

  “I...was,” Jon said, “but we since we didn’t make the playoffs, I don’t think it would go over well if I tried to do that as a fund-raising event.”

  “Hmm. Yes, I know we’ve had Boston sports players shave their hair on camera, but I was actually thinking about something different for you—it doesn’t require publicity, but would still help the kids. You see, we work with a charity that takes donated hair and makes wigs for the young cancer patients. If your hair is long enough, you could do that.”

  She took out a pen and another card, and jotted down the information for him. “If you decide you want to check it out, tell them I referred you.”

  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  Susan smiled. “It’s great to have you on board, Jon.”

  * * *

  JON WAITED UNTIL Brandon returned to day care. Then he went into a bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It still felt odd to have his finger unsplinted. There was a red gash beneath the simple bandage the doctor had affixed. Jon stuck the bandage back on his finger and flexed his hand. It was stiff but okay.

  He was lucky and he knew it. He had been given a fresh chance at achieving his goals.

  Get serious. Do the community service. Learn the new pitch.

  Some of the kids he’d seen today wouldn’t get the chance to grow up and work on their dreams. He was blessed. And it was time to do something with that.

  On the way out of the hospital, he stopped in front of the coffee shop. In a private place by the corner, he opened up the voice mail that Lizzy had left him.

  The date and time were a few hours after he’d left the rehab center. Lizzy, he thought. I’m sorry I didn’t know you called me.

  “Hi, Jon,” Lizzy had said. “I’m truly sorry over...the way I was harsh with you. I don’t mean...to be prickly.” A measure of silence passed. “Um, thank you for coming to Brandon’s rescue. It’s been a really hard day, and we’re grateful.” She had sighed audibly. There was a longer beat, and then a whispered, “Take care of yourself.”

  The recording ended.

  His heart pumping, Jon listened to it two more times. He especially liked the ending. He felt good when she said, “Take care of yourself.”

  Instead of deleting the message, he saved it.

  He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood there for a moment. Lizzy had obviously softened toward him. He felt an overwhelming urge to see her and talk to her about what had happened to him today. She alone, among everyone else he knew, would understand.

  First, he would grab a coffee on the way out.

  But as soon as he walked inside the café, he saw Lizzy. She was dressed in her surgical scrubs, and her back was to him. Her hands were curled around a cup of what was likely coffee.

  It was fate. For a split second Jon was happy, until he noticed the man seated opposite her. He had a tray before him, eating lunch, and he also wore hospital scrubs.

  Jon paused. He’d assumed Lizzy was more of a loner at work, but no. She was sitting with a handsome, serious-looking guy. His hair was cropped short and he wore glasses. His arms were bare under the scrubs, and it was obvious he worked out. The guy was no slouch. He was in shape, but brainy and serious. Like Lizzy.

  Jon stood frozen for a minute. Felt self-conscious about his long hair, scruffy razor stubble, and the T-shirt and jeans he wore. Not to mention his lack of an advanced college degree.

  Was this a boyfriend of hers, or just a colleague she was having lunch with? Jon edged closer.

  Lizzy and the doctor weren’t talking. They seemed to be sharing a comfortable silence, which was even worse. At least if they had been talking, Jon could have told himself the guy was just a blowhard. Comfortable silence meant...intimacy. And there was no conflict between them, unlike the supercharged tension that always sizzled between Jon and Lizzy.

/>   Jon had no right to care, about anything she did.

  He stalked over and chose a bottle of iced tea from a display case in the corner, then walked to the cashier and paid for it. A slow, sad U2 song came over the store speakers—“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” The soundtrack to his life.

  When he was out the door, he glanced back through the windows. Doctor Serious was throwing Lizzy’s empty coffee cup away for her. Definitely intimate.

  Jon was an idiot. He needed to get her out of his head. He had let her take up residence there for too long, and it was no good for him.

  Because he was fine. He would be even better, once he got his contract with the Captains re-signed.

  Get serious. Do the community service. Practice the changeup. Stay out of the way of sportswriters and media people.

  And women who got too far into his head.

  * * *

  ELIZABETH KNEW THE moment Jon had entered the coffee shop. Her skin seemed to prickle, and she couldn’t stop squirming. Her hormones always seemed to alert her when this guy was around.

  Without turning, she could see his reflection in the mirror facing her table. Jon was behind her, staring at her and Albert. They were both halfway through a double shift, and they’d just finished the same case—a heart bypass surgery that had been particularly grueling, though more so for Albert than for her. He’d been the lead surgeon. Usually, surgeons and anesthesiologists were cut from completely different cloth—if anesthesiologists tended to be quiet and settled, surgeons were often more animated and dynamic. Surgeons cut. They developed and pioneered new methods to cut, while anesthesiologists kept their focus on the patients’ medical well-being and stability.

  Albert was different, though. He was quiet and ordered, like her. Focused and in his own world. He never spoke loudly. He valued peace. The right way of things, as he described it. Often, when they were together, they each remained quiet, contented in their own thoughts, unthreatened yet...comfortable in their separateness. Albert did not upset her. He did not challenge her.

  Unlike Jon.

  She watched him watch her, in the mirror. His face was...well, he looked shaken. Right away she noticed that his bandage was removed, which was surely his reason for being at the hospital. His hair hung loose and his jaw was flecked with dark, dangerous stubble—sexy stubble she wanted to rake her fingers over—and his lips were...mashed together and angry. Seeing her bothered him.