Fixing Perfect Page 3

  Robin turned, grinning. “Dead last.”

  Sam twinkled back. “Good. Who got to go first?”

  “Kerry.”

  “Oh, boy, I bet he was excited.” Sam bent to straighten the cuff of his jeans. “I kind of rushed over. I think I remembered to put on all my clothes.”

  Robin laughed. “If anything’s missing, someone will let you know.”

  “Probably Kerry.” He straightened and looked over at Donovan.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  She studied his face as he watched the other man. No sign of jealousy. She sighed. Why had she even pretended she could expect him to care if another man talked to her? “Sam, do you know Donovan? He’s a photographer. He just joined the craft co-op.”

  Sam lifted his chin in greeting, though he waited a moment before saying anything. “Welcome. Are you part of the team or—?” He let his tone finish the question.

  “No, just came across it. I only met Robin a few days ago. Pretty cool to run into her twice.” He winked at her.

  Well, let Sam see that other men were interested. Then she remembered, and told Donovan, “Sam is my runner.”

  “I figured.” He shifted the camera to the other side of his chest. “I’m going to see if I can get a better vantage from across the field. See you around.” He strode off.

  After a moment, Sam said, “Nice guy.”

  “You didn’t take to him, either.” Though why she felt the need to defend Donovan, she had no idea. It wasn’t like Sam cared.

  “Hey, I said he was a nice guy.”

  Robin snorted.

  Kerry jostled Robin’s elbow. “Hey, Robin, you’re up. Come on! It’s your turn. Hurry up!”

  Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her from tipping over under Kerry’s enthusiasm. He followed her to home base, fetched her preferred bat, and stood behind her, the bat in his outstretched hand in front of her.

  Robin slipped her arms from the crutches, leaned back against Sam’s chest, and gripped the wood in both hands. Sam tucked the crutches against his hips. After he brushed her hair from her neck, he tucked his head against her back.

  Sam said, “Ready.” His arms went around her waist.

  She could stay this way forever. Sam’s forearms crossed over her stomach and his palms pressed against her ribs, the way Danny had taught him. Her crutches nestled in the crook of his elbows, so they wouldn’t fall, and neither would she.

  “Ready!” Robin called to the coach.

  “Batter up!” Danny wound and let fly a faster ball than his usual. Robin swung, but the ball continued to the catcher’s mitt.

  “Steady up.” Sam shifted against her back, and she felt his breath warm on her shoulder blades.

  How was she supposed to concentrate on a bit of rawhide and thread when she had Sam breathing deliciously down her neck? Ah, but she had to. This was not the place to lose her mind, as attractive as it seemed. She choked the bat again and called, “Ready.”

  Danny pitched.

  This time her swing caught the ball dead on, and it flew to the outfield. Robin squealed, dropped the bat and reached back with both hands.

  Sam fitted the crutches over her wrists and waited for her to get her balance before he stepped back.

  Robin had never mastered running, but she could hustle well enough. Her pace gave her time to watch as the outfielders tossed her ball to each other, stalling until she reached first base.

  Sam jogged beside her, more to give her the impression of speed than because he had to, to keep up. “That was a great hit. You’ve got some good arm muscles going there.”

  “Comes from having to use them to walk. You want to build up your pecs, I recommend crutches. Of course, your legs get kind of wimpy after a while.”

  He laughed as she touched first base. “There’s nothing wimpy about you.”

  Well, her heart might argue that. It still wanted his arms around her, no matter the reason. Then again, she didn’t want support. She wanted more.

  

  Out on the field, Sam caught three grounders and pretended to fumble them while the players headed off for first base. Once they were started, he’d give an easy toss to someone else on the field. Eventually, when the player got to first base, someone would pass the ball to the pitcher’s mound and let Danny stall. Sam let one fly ball land between him and Robin, making sure it wouldn’t hit her on the head. He tossed her the ball and she sent it on to the outfield, watched it travel between teammates until the player made it across home base, to the cheers of “home run!”

  When the game wound down Coach Danny gathered his team around him for a final thank you and prayer before they headed back to the bus. They’d go to the pizza parlor, and after lunch and video games, the bus driver would drop each player off in front of his or her home.

  Sam and most of the other runners, as well as the players’ families, followed on foot or in their golf carts. The parlor was three blocks from the field and as he walked, the photographer who’d been talking to Robin caught up with him.

  He wished the guy would find something else to do. Go take pictures of stunning models or something, anything to get him away from watching Robin with that look in his eye.

  Funny. He hadn’t known he could be so jealous.

  “You’re Sam, right?”

  As if Robin hadn’t introduced them just an hour before. Donovan barely glanced at Sam as he marched next to him.

  “That’s me.” Now he could leave. Sam wouldn’t mind.

  “Thought so. You’re Robin’s runner.”

  Sam nodded and glared at the coach’s back. Something about this Donovan guy felt like saw grass inside his sneakers, but maybe it was the way he talked about Robin, as though she belonged to him simply because—what? He knew her? Because he wanted to sell his work through the same co-op she did?

  “She’s a beautiful young woman. I told her I wanted to take some photos of her, but it seemed to make her a little nervous. She doesn’t seem all that shy, though.”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know too many women who like having their pictures taken.” His sister often hid her face or turned away when a camera lens pointed at her.

  “You don’t think it’s because of her disability?”

  Sam stopped walking, his hands clenched. “I think it’s because she’s a perfectly normal human being.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course she is. Well. More beautiful than most. Right?”

  “Look, I know that, and you know that. But try convincing Robin—” But no, he didn’t want this guy anywhere near Robin. “It’s just normal,” he finished, feeling he’d let his best friend down in his defense of her.

  “What would be best,” Donovan said, “is to fix everything for her. Her legs. So she can walk like anyone else. Run, play baseball the way she’s meant to. Live a normal life. You know. Be perfect.”

  And if he said a word of that to Robin, she’d deck him. Sam hoped he was around to see it.

  3

  Robin helped Kerry maneuver onto the bench next to her and waved at his mother to let her know he was fine. The young man’s hands shook with fatigue, but his face shone. “I was up first. I batted first today.”

  “You sure did.” Robin edged onto the bench next to him. It took a while, since she was almost as tired as Kerry, but he kept talking the whole time.

  “I made a homerun. I batted first and then I made a home run.”

  Robin grinned. “You did. I saw you. You did great.”

  “I did great. I was awesome.” He pumped his good hand in a triumphant fist.

  Robin wrapped her arm around his shoulder, partly from sheer affection, and partly to keep him from tumbling off the bench in his excitement. “You’re always awesome, Kerry.”

  “I know. You, too.” Kerry looked across the table and up a few seats. “Who’s that camera guy? He kept doing his camera all the game.” Kerry mimed focusing a camera and clicking the shutter repeatedly.

  Robin
glanced in the same direction.

  Donovan curled around his camera which sat on the table in front of him, his arms forming protective walls encircling it. As if he were waiting for her to notice him, he looked up.

  She nodded to him. “That’s Donovan. He wants to take pictures of the whole team.”

  “To put on the wall?”

  “If you want to.” And, of course, Kerry would want to.

  “Or maybe in the newspaper. Sometimes they put pictures of teams in the newspapers.”

  “Maybe they’ll do that.” She pulled her hair band out and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Donovan had to be the best looking guy on the island, and maybe that was why Sam disliked him on sight.

  Good. Maybe that would make Sam take a real look at her.

  She gave Donovan a warm smile and focused all her attention on Kerry, who repeated everything he’d already told her at least three times before the pizzas arrived. Robin served him two huge slices of pepperoni, tucked a napkin under his chin, and made sure his soda was capped and the straw was pushed all the way to the bottom of the cup before she started on her own lunch. When Sam slid in next to her, she leaned against his shoulder for half a second and grinned at him. “I saved you a slice of veggie pizza.”

  “You never have to save it. None of the kids like it.” He helped himself and took a huge bite.

  She shifted a little so her legs weren’t splayed out under the table. “Do you have to go back in to work today?”

  Sam swallowed. “Not until tomorrow afternoon. This morning was a sort of debriefing. And they offered some counseling as well.”

  “That’s good.”

  His jaw flexed before he said, “I told you. I don’t need it. I’m fine. No nightmares last night.”

  Her heart ached at the pain in his voice, which he wouldn’t acknowledge. “And if you did, would you tell me?”

  “Sure. I’d tell you. Don’t I tell you everything?”

  His low voice tickled her ear. She rubbed it and glanced up the table. One of the team moms sat next to Donovan, talking away and gesturing at his camera. Donovan turned away from watching Robin, and without the warmth in his eyes, she shivered.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam paused in the act of snagging another slice.

  “Nothing, really. Just—I don’t know. Lehanie and everything, I suppose.”

  Sam patted her shoulder absently before he turned back to his lunch. “Right. I don’t blame you. Everyone’s on edge.” He bent to give her a searching look. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to go in for the counseling.”

  “Why? I didn’t even know her.” Robin remembered the mother who had come into the shop with her three daughters. “But we should be on edge. We should be worried and sad and vigilant, looking for the guy. This isn’t something we can ignore.” The picture of Lehanie the news media ran constantly rose up behind her eyelids, the way it had been doing since Sam told her they’d found her body. Closing her eyes brought her picture up like a movie running in a continuous loop; opening them brought home the juxtaposition between the young woman’s reality and wherever Robin happened to be at the time.

  Sam gripped her hand. The warmth of his fingers helped.

  Kerry clambered off the bench, bumping Robin. “Sorry, Robin.” He swung his leg over, kicked her thigh. “Sorry. Sorry, Robin.”

  “It’s OK.” Robin shifted closer to Sam and grinned as Kerry grabbed Danny’s sleeve. “I got to bat first, Coach. You let me bat first. It was awesome.”

  “Who taught him his new word?” Sam asked.

  Robin bent close to him. “Me, I think. We keep telling each other we’re awesome.”

  “Absolutely true.” He lifted his head and his mouth pinched for half a second before he nodded at someone behind Robin. “Hey.”

  Robin turned to see Donovan had moved around the table and now stood next to her. She scooted away from Sam’s shoulder, again smiling at Donovan.

  “Hi. Mind if I sit here? I think the little guy isn’t coming back for a while.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped. “Do you mean Kerry?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t mean to belittle him. I’m having a hard time remembering he’s older than he looks.”

  “Maybe you need to try harder.” Sam’s hard tone cracked across the space, and Donovan hesitated marginally before he climbed over the bench and reached across the table for the pitcher of soda.

  “I will. I promise. I haven’t spent much time with handicapped kids, but that doesn’t mean I’m judging them.”

  Robin hoped she was the only one who heard Sam’s grunt of disbelief.

  Donovan’s gaze shifted to her, slid across her, and back. “I was wondering. He keeps saying he hit a homerun, but I thought he stopped on first base.”

  “Right. But he made it home, and any run is a homerun in Kerry’s vocabulary. Make that the whole team. Everyone hits a homer, even though nobody gets past first when they get their hit.”

  “OK, that makes sense. He obviously loves to play and loves to win. Except, neither team won. No one struck out, no one got tagged out, and every single player crossed home base.”

  Robin nodded. “Because it’s about playing, not about winning. Extreme Baseball has a very different focus from any other team game in the world.”

  “I guess.” Donovan took a long swallow. “It’s kind of nice.”

  His tone made her like him even more.

  Donovan set down his cup. “You do this every week?”

  “As long as the weather’s good, and on the island, that’s pretty much every week. We might miss three games a year due to rain. That’s about it. A few more last year, with all the storms.”

  “Right.” Donovan nodded and stood. “I’m going to go have a chat with the coach, see if he wants to set up some shoots. Before the game would be great. I’m thinking of giving each player a free copy, standard photo size, or a five by seven, maybe, and then if people want more, well, I can work out a deal. What do you think?” He glanced down at Robin.

  “I think that’s very kind.” And that he’d make a lot of money on it. Did he have any idea how self-serving he sounded? But then, he was a businessman, trying to get customers, like anyone else. And all her teammates would love having a picture of the whole team together.

  Sam relaxed as soon as Donovan walked away. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and then let it slide to rest near her waist. “I hope he takes the picture next week and disappears.”

  

  Becca snuggled next to Mr. Bird while he smoothed her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. Her daddy used to do that to her, after her bath, and he also tickled her until she squealed and couldn’t breathe for laughing. Then he’d read her a story before Mommy tucked her into bed and listened to her prayers.

  Everything was different since Mommy and Daddy made Lehanie give her to Mr. Bird. Maybe it was because she never had to take a bath, or put on clean clothes, or go to school, or because she never got to go outside. She missed those things, even though when Mr. Bird told her she didn’t have to do them, he made it sound like he was giving her a big old present.

  She missed Mommy and Daddy a lot, though, and Mr. Bird never explained that as something good.

  Now, she sat on the lumpy, skinny mattress, tipped toward Mr. Bird because his weight made a dip, and let him pet her. It made her feel closer to Daddy, like if she believed hard enough, he’d come instead and take her home.

  “You were a very good girl today. What do you want for a reward? Ice cream? An extra cookie?”

  “I want my mommy.” She stared up at the big man. He was taller than her dad, and he didn’t have a beard like her dad. He had light blond hair and blue eyes that made her feel cold sometimes. She snuffled and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

  Mr. Bird handed her a tissue and wrapped his fingers over hers and helped her wipe. Her daddy did that, too. “I want my daddy. I want to go home.”

  “I know, baby.” He folded the ti
ssue over to hide the snot and tossed it into the can pushed up to the wall. It bounced out, but that didn’t matter, because the can was too full to hold anything else. Mr. Bird never emptied it. “And they’ll be back pretty soon, I promise. But right now all I can give you is something sweet.”

  “Why couldn’t you let Lehanie stay with me? She takes care of me when Mommy and Daddy are gone at work.” She hunched her shoulders. “Sometimes I get scared.”

  “I know.” He patted her shoulder. “See, Lehanie had to do a job for me. And she did great. She was beautiful.” His eyes went funny, and he stroked her hair. “Beautiful black hair, she had.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Becca was being a grumbly old bear, and she knew she shouldn’t, but Mr. Bird never cared, anyway. “She had red hair.”

  Now Mr. Bird looked right at her, and the funny look went from his eyes. “I fixed her.”

  Becca didn’t understand how red hair had to be fixed. Her hair wasn’t black, either, and Mr. Bird didn’t mind. “Why do I have to stay here?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Mr. Bird smiled. “You’re going to help me, too. Not just yet. I have to get everything set up. Don’t worry, though. I know exactly how you’re going to help me. You look just like her.”

  Becca liked helping. “Daddy says I look just like Mommy.”

  “No. You look like my robin. Only she has black hair.” Again, he stroked her hair.

  Becca wondered if it turned black under his hand.

  “But right now, I want to do something nice for you. What do you want? I have cookies and ice cream.”

  “My daddy likes to read me stories.” She told him about her daddy all the time, but he never remembered anything.

  “I guess I can do that. Go brush your teeth and pick out a book. After that you’ve got to go right to bed.”

  She slid off the mattress and hurried to the bathroom. She had a little trouble with the cap on the toothpaste tube, but soon she finished her job and she hurried back.

  Mr. Bird had turned off the extra flashlight.

  “I don’t like it dark.” She climbed back onto the mattress and put her arms around her knees. It made her feel safer to curl into a ball. As soon as Mr. Bird left, there wouldn’t be much light in the room at all, except for one yellow bulb right up in the ceiling, and it scared her.