Every woman there nodded.
And, in spite of anything any of them might say, that really told the truth about what had happened to their town.
Dessert started out a somewhat subdued affair, but Cassie’s homemade lemon pie was too fabulous to resist. Martha still didn’t join in much of the conversation floating around her, only enough to keep her friends from getting suspicious, but she was eventually able to let the affection and energy in the room take the edge off her defensiveness. She was able to feel a reassurance and security; it was what she bestowed on her children and what her friends, in their own ways, bestowed on her.
“I have an announcement to make.” Bonnie stood up, was looking around at each one of them, a grin on her face as her secret trembled on her lips. Beth’s knowing smile gave it away.
“You’re pregnant,” Randi said.
Turning her slim body right and then left in an exaggerated model’s gesture, Bonnie nodded. “Almost three months.”
“Congratulations,” Martha said, rounding the table to be the first to give her a hug. “Keith never said a word.”
The year before, Martha had come too close to having an affair with Keith Nielson. It had been a tough time, showing her things about herself she didn’t care to see. Now she was nothing but happy for Keith and his sweet wife. Martha almost laughed out loud.
“He didn’t know until last night,” Bonnie told her, and then looked at the rest of them. “You know I had such a hard time getting pregnant with Katie, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
“Or yourself, either,” Becca guessed. Bonnie’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. But not for long. The other women in the room weren’t going to allow that.
And before any of them left that afternoon, they had Bonnie’s shower completely planned—date, place, theme and all.
Despite everything, Martha was glad to be alive. To be part of it all. To live in a town like Shelter Valley.
FACING THE TALL first baseman from South Phoenix, Tim Moore wound up and put every bit of energy he had into the pitch. The guy was their number-four batter. He’d get him in three.
“Ball!” The umpire’s voice rang out embarrassingly loud.
“Shit,” Tim said, spitting at the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Your mama’s gonna be mad if she hears you talking like that,” Gray Woods, Tim’s catcher, said, coming up to the mound.
“Then it’s lucky for me my mama didn’t hear,” Tim snapped. Not that it mattered. Moms didn’t really do much about stuff like teenage boys cussing and looking at magazines. They left that junk to dads, which meant Tim could get away with it.
Gray leaned in. “He backed up from the plate.”
Tim nodded. He knew he’d thrown a strike. He couldn’t believe the ump had fallen for the visual illusion.
“He ain’t gonna hit it,” Gray predicted. “Don’t throw the next one so fast and the ump’ll see better.”
Tim nodded again. Chewed his gum while he waited for Gray to get back to his crouching stance behind the plate. He wound up.
“Stee-rike!”
Damn straight it was. This time Tim glanced at the bleachers. Mom was there, of course. She always was. Screaming her fool head off as loudly as any dad would’ve done.
And the pastor. He hadn’t missed a game this season, although it was only the first Saturday in March, so he couldn’t brag too much about that yet. And Keith Nielson was there, too. Ever since Tim had broken his leg last year and Keith had taken him and his mom to the hospital and then spent the night with them, Keith was always at his games when they played in Shelter Valley.
“Throw the ball!” some jerk from the bench hollered out.
Placing his middle finger just right, Tim held the ball up as though getting ready for a windup. He couldn’t tell if the kid knew what he’d done or not, but it didn’t much matter. Tim grinned, anyway. And threw the ball.
He struck out a total of sixteen guys during that multicity-league game. Not quite half of the at-bats, but he was getting close. And he’d pitched a shutout. Pretty good for a beginning-of-the-season game. Good enough to make it to the big leagues.
“Good game!”
“Way to go, buddy!”
“Congratulations, man!”