LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Scout snapped.

      She knew she wasn’t herself. Fine. But everyone was treating her as if she was somehow different from her two sisters, who had also lost their father. Different from everyone else who had been at the funeral and was grieving.

      Why were they doing that?

      “It’s the drugs,” Samantha explained to Roy and Lane.

      Drugs. Of course. That’s why she felt this way. Numb and foggy. As if she had no power over her mind and body.

      “You drugged me?” She asked the question of Samantha, but she could see Lane wince.

      “Honey, you needed something,” Lane said, apparently defending what had obviously been Sam’s call. “It’s just a Valium to relax you. Now come on. Let’s get you in the car.”

      They had drugged her. Her sisters had done that. Scout planned to be very angry about that as soon as she could think again.

      “Was she here?” Scout asked suddenly suspicious of everything. Now that she knew she’d been drugged, who knew what kind of evil her sisters intended. “Yes,” Samantha said matter-of-factly. “I told you she would be.”

      “I don’t want to see her,” Scout said.

      “Too bad, Elizabeth,” a woman from inside the limo said. “I’m your mother and, whether you realize it or not, you need me right now.”

      Scout shook her head. “Did someone just call me Elizabeth?”

      A leg, then a body and then a head got out of the car. Suddenly Alice formerly-Baker-now-Sullivan was standing in front of Scout. The traitorous mother she didn’t want to see.

      Not today of all days.

      She hadn’t been able to stop her mother from calling these past few months. Not that Scout had had much to say to her. It seemed Duff had, though, because they’d spoken a lot.

      “Yes, I called you Elizabeth. Because it’s what I named you. Now let’s get in the car and do this thing. You look like you could drop at any moment. Have you eaten anything in the past four days?”

      Scout looked directly at Samantha. “I’m going to need more drugs.”

      Samantha had the nerve to smile.

      They all got into the limo and Scout made a point of sitting across from her mother so she wouldn’t have to touch her, but that made it difficult not to look at her.

      She’d caught a break when Alice and Bob had been in Europe and couldn’t make it for Lane’s wedding. Scout gave her mother some credit for not causing Lane any grief over the speedy wedding, knowing it had been important to her for Duff to see his middle child marry.

      As a result she hadn’t seen her mother in almost two years. Not since the last time Duff had forced her to go visit. Those visits would always end with Scout leaving early because the sad truth was, she and her mother had nothing to say to each other.

      Alice was still beautiful for a woman in her sixties. Duff had married later in life, and he always said it was because he’d been waiting for Alice to grow up. He used to say he wanted to marry the prettiest girl he ever saw and it just took fate and time awhile for them to meet.

      “Was she in the limo on the way to the grave site? Did I somehow miss that?” Scout asked Lane, trying to understand how she was now in a car with her mother. Her mother, who she had been hoping to avoid for as long as she could.

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” Alice said. “Bob drove me to the funeral and will meet up with me at the stadium. I just couldn’t tolerate seeing you standing there so lost. I thought driving over to the stadium with you would be best. I’m sure I’ll say something to anger you, which might give you the jolt of energy you need. You look positively frightening, Elizabeth.”

      Raging anger cleared away her drug-hazed state. Her mother was right. “Don’t call me Elizabeth,” Scout growled. “You know I hate it.”

      “Yes. You do.” Her mother sighed. “I’m sorry, Scout. I’m truly not here to make this day harder for you. I’m here because you need me.”

      Scout snorted. “I do not need you. I do not need anyone. Apparently all I need is some Valium.”

      “Look, guys,” Sam said, “can we not do this now? We’re all grieving, and we’re all sad. Let’s just get through the rest of this day together.”

      “Why is Mom sad?” Scout wanted to know. “She left Duff for Bob. Bob isn’t dead.”

      Alice closed her eyes as if she were searching for inner strength. It was a look Scout knew well because she was the one who often put that expression on her mother’s face.

      “I know this is hard for you to believe but I did love your father for a very long time. We just couldn’t make it work. We’re not the first couple in history to have that happen and we won’t be the last. You’re twenty-nine years old. Not a child. It’s time for you to understand that and grow up.”

      Scout shook her head. “I’m sorry...was someone saying something just then? I am, like, really messed up.”

      “Play your games, Scout. It won’t matter to me. I’m not going anywhere and you’re going to figure that out very quickly.”

      “Why not, when I so desperately want you to go?”

      “Because I’m the only parent you have left. Deal with it.”

      Scout had something to say in retaliation but the words got lost in the fog. The sadness was back.

      Duff was gone.

      And nothing was ever going to be the same.

      * * *

      JAYSON LEBEC STOOD back a little from the crowd gathering at the entrance to the stadium as mourners continued to arrive. Seats and tables had been set up. A full lunch service had been catered. Many mingled on the baseball diamond to talk about one thing and one thing only and that was the late great Duff Baker.

      In some ways it still seemed surreal that Jayson was back here in Minotaur Falls. That he was now the manager of the town’s Triple A baseball club and filling the shoes Duff had left empty.

      “Hey, I know you. You’re the Face Guy.”

      Jayson turned at the use of his infamous baseball name and saw Reuben, the general manager of the Rebels, and Greg, the new head of scouting. Greg was pointing at him and smiling.

      “I’m right, aren’t I?” Greg asked.

      He was. It was Jayson’s claim to fame in baseball. In his debut game in the majors he’d run down a fly ball as hard as he could and lost track of his position on the field. He ended up slamming face-first into the right outfield wall. The harsh part was that the padding that should have offered some protection had fallen off in that particular spot so his face had made direct contact with the brick behind it.

      The brick won. His face lost. He did, however, manage to hold on to the ball.

      The doctors had to induce a coma to allow his brain to heal. Then came the job of the plastic surgeons putting his face back together. In total, he’d had five different surgeries.

      Of course, because of some lingering aftereffects like dizziness and blurred vision, he would never play again. Which was why he didn’t actually like being called the Face Guy.

      But in baseball once you had a nickname, it stuck.

      “Jayson LeBec,” Jayson said holding out his hand. He knew Greg by reputation as a former Major League pitcher. Greg was older, probably in his midfifties, and had been long gone from the game by the time Jayson arrived.

      “Greg Adamson,” Greg said as he shook his hand. “I guess we’re both new to the Rebels organization.”

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