Not until later, when the doctor had checked Landon’s lung function enough to take him off the respirator, and even long after Cole had gone to Kari’s with his grandpa, and Ashley was alone once more with Landon, did she process all that had happened that night, the way God had worked a miracle in their midst. Landon was tired — something the doctor said was to be expected. His road to recovery was still ongoing — and even then there was the next battle. The one with polymyositis. But for now one very strong truth kept her company as she watched Landon sleep — finally free of the machines and wires. Everything but his IV bag.
Like in the days of 2 Chronicles, the battle had been won not when Ashley fretted over Landon or when she cried out for help or tried to figure out what she could do to save him. Rather the battle for Landon’s life was won while she merely took up her position at her husband’s bedside, and in the most simple way of all.
While Cole was singing.
LANDON HAD BEEN OUT OF THE HOSPITAL for two days, long enough that the doctor had cleared him to be at this evening’s baseball game. It was the last Wednesday in April, the last game in regular season. After eight years of batting practice and fielding practice and car washes to raise money for his team … after coming to this field several days a week every spring, it had come to this.
Cole’s very last Little League game.
From here they would move to another field. Some of the kids would play in the Amateur Athletic Union league and others would choose the more established Metro team. But this, their time together on this field, where they’d grown up from T-ball … after tonight this stage of their lives would be over.
Her dad and Elaine, her sisters, Luke, and their families — everyone had made it out for the occasion. Everyone except Dayne and Katie who were in Los Angeles working on a movie this month. Ashley looked around and she was hit by a realization. The kids were blissfully unaware of the lasts at hand, at the way the clock was stealing today a little too quickly. Of course they were unaware. Kids didn’t grasp the significance of the moment. But her siblings did. Cole was the oldest of the grandchildren, but their turns were coming. The last swimming lesson. Last soccer game. Last ballet recital. Kids didn’t stay that way … it was the hardest thing about being a parent. And moments like this they could only soak it in … hold onto every inning, the way the sun streaked through the distant trees and splashed light across the ball field, the crack of the bat, and the chatter from the dugout.
They belonged here today. Cole belonged here. But only for another handful of innings.
“Come on, Coley!” Devin was on his feet beside her. “Hit it outta the park, baby!”
Beside her on the other side, Ashley’s father chuckled. “That one’s going to be a handful, I have a feeling about him.”
“Me too.” Ashley positioned Janessa in her lap and pointed to the batter’s box. “Watch Cole, Nessa … it’s his turn.”
Landon was in the dugout, where he wanted to be. He had his inhaler with him, but so far Dr. Jacobs had him on enough steroids that he didn’t struggle to breathe. He only coughed every so often — and not like before his steroid treatment started. She watched him now, standing just outside the dugout, flashing hand signals to Cole. “That-away, Cole. Level swing … Just make contact, buddy. You got this.”
From the dugout, Cole’s teammates cheered him on, clinging to the chain link fence. “Come on, Big C!” Thomas bellowed at Cole.
“Yeah, come on Cole. You got this.”
The kids didn’t know the extent of Landon’s injuries, or the severity of his time in the hospital. No one did, really. They’d managed to keep it quiet, which was what Landon wanted. Whatever the future held, they would deal with it soon. Landon had more tests in a week, and a consultation about next steps.
Already Dr. Jacobs had ordered him off work. Depending on what the last few tests showed, Landon may have fought his last fire. Something neither of them had discussed yet. Landon wanted to focus on the baseball season for now. “I feel fine,” he told her on the way to the park. “I’ll be back to work in a few weeks.” He smiled at her, his hand on the wheel. “I’m not ready to think about the other options.”
Ashley was pretty sure she’d never be ready. And for now there was no need to think about it. She looked over the shoulder of the woman in front of her. Christine was the scorekeeper, and a quick glance told Ashley what she should’ve already known. It was the fifth inning, top of the order. Two outs. The team they were playing was tough, but the Yankees were up one run with three runners on base.
“You see what’s happening, right?” Kari leaned in from behind. “This is probably Cole’s last at-bat. One more inning and they can put this one away.”
Ashley stared at her son, and uttered the sort of prayer she often said when he was up to bat, or pitching, or before he took the field. Dear Lord … I know wins and losses aren’t the most important thing. But right now, I pray You would bless Cole beyond anything we could ask or imagine. Not for him, Father … but to show the world what a bright light can come from a boy just twelve years old — even here in the midst of a baseball game.
The first pitch came whizzing over the plate a little high, and Cole let it go.
“Steeeerrrrike!” The umpire pointed at the plate, indicating that the ball had been thrown perfectly.
Ashley raised one eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything. Strikes were in the eyes of the umpire. Anyway, Lord … thank You. No matter what happens with Cole right now, thank You for letting him play baseball. For letting Landon coach him. I’ll never forget this, Father.
She remembered Cole’s first basketball game six years ago, and how she had caught herself getting a little too involved, too enthusiastic. She’d tempered her courtside behavior since then, because what did it really matter how the ref called a game or whether a pitch really was a strike or not? What mattered was this … her family gathered around to watch, celebrating the spirit of the game and the kids who played it.
“Come on, Big C. You got this one.” Avery joined Thomas at the fence. “This is your pitch, buddy …”
Landon stood beside them. “Nice and even. Eye on the ball, Cole.” He clapped a few times, his sign of encouragement for Cole. “Here we go …”
The pitch flew from the mound, and this time Cole swung and missed. Two strikes. The next two pitches were in the dirt, and a third went over his head. Full count. And suddenly Ashley felt knots in her stomach. This was it … this was really it. She glanced at her sister Brooke to make sure she was videotaping. She was. Her eyes found Cole again, and she did everything in her power to memorize the moment. Cole at bat on this field they’d come to love … the field they’d played at with these same kids year after year after year.
“I can see it, Cole … this one’s yours.” That was it, all Landon said.
In a flash, the ball left the pitcher’s hand and raced toward home plate. As if the play were happening in slow motion, Cole took what looked like the perfect cut at the ball, his swing level and full, his hips turning at just the right time and then —
CRACK!
The bat connected and the ball was gone … it was gone as soon as he hit it, and everyone in both sets of stands knew it. People jumped to their feet and the Yankees dugout burst into shouts and hoots and hollers. And sure enough, the ball sailed over the fence and into the distant field where a couple of young boys — T-ball boys — ran after it.
“Homerun!” The team shouted in celebration.
All around her people were cheering and shouting Cole’s name. “That’s a grand slam, baby! Grand slam for the Yankees!”
Above the other sounds, Ashley heard the one voice that was only in the mix because God had worked a miracle that week. The voice of Landon. “Way to go, son! That-a-boy … way to go!” Landon led the team out of the dugout and onto the field toward home base as Cole followed the other base runners around first and second and kept running.
“Cole running!” Janessa po
inted at her brother.
“Yes, baby. Cole’s running all the way around!”
“Homerun!” Devin jumped up and down on the bleacher beside her. “My brother hit a homerun!”
Ashley brought her hands to her face and watched, watched every stride and the way Cole’s smile stretched beneath his batting helmet. The way his cleats kicked up the dust with each step and the joy with which he stepped on each base as he ran. She didn’t dare blink or look away or do anything but hold onto the moment. Past second base Cole pointed one finger to heaven — his way of thanking God, like he’d done the two other times he’d hit a homerun this season.
The entire team gathered at home plate, and Cole rounded third and headed toward them. Again he pointed up, and then he pointed at them, his teammates, the players he’d grown up with at this ballpark. All of them were there … Thomas and Avery and Mitchell … Nick and Michael and Derek and Eric. Kids who had learned the game together. Kids who had won and lost together, and who would now have to learn how to say goodbye together.
How to leave this Little League field and move on.
Cole’s sandlot boys.
As soon as he touched home base, the boys surrounded him, slapping his back and holding his hand in the air, pumping their fists and celebrating the win. The game wasn’t over, but fifteen minutes later, when Avery made the last out catching a pop-up at short-stop, it was. The Yankees had won … and as Ashley stood and cheered with the other parents, she didn’t mind the tears that streamed down her face. There was no telling what lay ahead for Landon. For their family. But tonight … on a warm spring Wednesday at the end of April, Cole had won his last Little League game.
Sometime after the last out, the T-ball boy who had found Cole’s homerun ball ran it over to him, his eyes big as he looked up to Cole. It was easy to read the admiration in his face, and Ashley listened from her place in the bleachers. “Here, Cole … you were great tonight!”
“Thanks, bud.” Cole took the ball and gave the boy a high five. Then without hesitating, he walked over to Landon and tapped him on the arm. Ashley knew what he was about to do, but his actions brought tears to her eyes anyway. Cole hugged his father for a long while. He said something to Landon, probably thanking him for coaching the season, and for being the best dad ever. The sort of thing Cole often said. Then he handed Landon his homerun ball. And after another hug, he ran off with his teammates.
Landon must’ve felt her watching, because he looked straight at her and held up the ball. Even from across the field, Ashley could see Landon’s eyes glistening. Because how many little boys had the chance to end their Little League career with a grand slam homerun? And because how wonderful it was that Landon was Cole’s father … and that he was here … alive for a game like this.
He tucked the ball in his pocket and returned to the boys — all of whom were forming a group so that the team photographer could snap pictures. Capturing the moment for the record books. Like the other parents, Ashley stayed while the league commissioner awarded the Yankees their first-place medals. And while the boys cleaned trash from the dugout. And as the dads joined Landon on the field raking down the dirt infield for the next game … the next team. Ashley watched all of it, watched while the boys hugged each other, all laughter and loud voices … replaying the highlights and Cole’s homerun again and again and again. No tears for these boys, not tonight.
It wouldn’t hit them until later — when they were home and sorting through their photos and trophies — what had just happened. That their time together was over. But maybe that was better. Because it allowed Ashley and the other parents to stand here, mesmerized … watching their boys in their Yankees uniforms collecting bats and working as a team this one last time. Until every last one of them gathered his gear bag and headed off with his parents. Until these Yankees faded from view and the field stood empty of Cole’s sandlot boys.
For now and all time.
Twenty-Two
BAILEY’S BEDROOM FLOOR WAS ALMOST PERFECTLY CLEAR. Brandon had helped a lot, as it turned out. Sorting through her things and organizing clothes into one corner of the room, school work and books in another, and memories — as he called them — in another.
It was early Wednesday afternoon, which meant she was leaving in four days.
She and her mom would fly out together, and her mom would stay most of the week to help her get situated and to assess the safety of her neighborhood and the walk she would have to take to the theater each day. Together they would take four suitcases, packed to overflowing. Until yesterday they weren’t sure if Bailey would have to live in a hotel for the first few weeks, but finally, around six last night, the production assistant called with good news.
“We found the perfect place,” his New York accent was thick, but Bailey understood every word. She held her breath waiting for the details. “It’s an older couple with an apartment three blocks down from the theater. He used to be a producer, and now he’s an investor. He and his wife take in dancers from out of town … with a couple restrictions.”
Bailey was thrilled. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “Go ahead.”
The man went on to explain that the couple wouldn’t tolerate drinking or smoking. “And here’s the one that usually makes them a tougher placement option,” he hesitated. “No guys in your room.”
A quiet ripple of laughter slipped from Bailey’s lips before she could stop herself.
“Hmmm … so that’s a no, I take it then.”
“Wait.” Bailey laughed again. “Sorry. No … I mean, it’s a yes. It sounds perfect.”
“No pets, either.” He was clearly reading from a list.
“Fine. I don’t have pets.” Her family did, and she would miss them … their four cats and two dogs. But she wouldn’t have considered bringing a pet to New York City. Bailey checked her notepad. She didn’t have any notes jotted down yet except one — the word perfect. “Is that it? What’s the rent?”
“Cheap. Just two hundred dollars a month.” He paused. “And it comes furnished. How’s that sound?”
“Like a dream.” Bailey was amazed, too baffled to believe the situation was as good as it sounded. “What’s the catch?”
“None.” It was his turn to chuckle. “Usually the dancers have one of those vices, you know … smoking or drinking. And if not, then they sure don’t want any parent-figure telling them they can’t bring guys into their bedroom. Last Broadway dancer to stay at the Owens house was three years ago.”
Bailey thanked the man, and he gave her the other details. The couple’s names, their address and phone numbers. He assured Bailey they’d be expecting her and her mother Sunday afternoon. They even had theater tickets to Mary Poppins and wanted to know if the two of them might want them — since they’d be out to dinner with friends that evening.
The phone call ended and Bailey rushed to tell her mom and dad. None of them could imagine a better scenario, and after she’d shared all the details, her dad did what they always tried to do when God had clearly answered one of their prayers. He put his arms around their shoulders, bowed his head, and prayed — the sort of moment she would miss like crazy once she was gone.
And she would be gone far too soon.
She checked the time on her watch — not quite two o’clock. Shopping could be done once she got to New York, but she and her mom wanted to make a trip to Target for a few last minute hair and makeup items — the things she wasn’t sure she’d find easily in Manhattan. “You in here?” Her mom sounded sad. It wasn’t something anyone else would’ve noticed. But Bailey was that close to her — and she was sure. Her tone wasn’t what it would usually be on a sunny spring Saturday morning.
“Yep.” Bailey poked her head out of her bathroom door. “Tackling the drawers in here.”
“Wow.” Her mom joined her, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Your room will be cleaner than it ever was when you lived here.”
“I know.” Bailey smiled. She stopped fo
r a moment and looked behind her at her clean floor and neatly made bed. Every drawer and inch of her closet had been gone through and organized. She faced her mom again. “I feel like I sorted through my childhood and said goodbye to half of it.”
“Me too.” Her mom’s eyes were filled with yesterday. “I can still see you in my arms, the day we brought you home.” She laughed, but it came out sounding something like a cry. “The nurse walked with us out to our little blue Honda, and we had to work to figure out how to buckle you in.”
“That must’ve been crazy … I mean, babies don’t come with a manual.”
“Exactly.” She shook her head, the memory still dancing in her eyes. “I remember the nurse sort of made a face like, ‘Good luck,’” her mom sighed, and folded her arms in front of her. “Your dad and I climbed in the car, and before he started the engine he looked at me and hesitated. Then he said, ‘I have no idea how to do this, do you?’ Well … after I laughed for a minute, I had to agree. I had no idea, either.”
Bailey loved this, when her mom remembered back to when Bailey was a little girl. “It’s weird, because I can’t remember any of that. But for you … watching me leave. All of that probably feels like it just happened.”
“Like it was last week.” She smiled, but a tear slid down her cheek. She laughed at herself, unable to stop the tears that followed. “I’m sorry, honey. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
“Ahh, Mom.” Bailey went to her and they hugged for a long time. “I’ll be back. You know that.”
“Of course.” She sniffed, trying desperately to keep the moment light. “It just won’t be …” She waved at the room behind them. “It won’t be the same.” She wiped her eyes and lightly she touched Bailey’s hair, her cheek. “I was up with you at three a.m., wondering what I was doing wrong and why you wouldn’t stop crying … and I sat on the floor, telling myself I would never find a way to potty train a one-year-old … and we worked through geometry problems on the dining room table until I thought the semester would last forever.”