“If you wouldn’t mind, I have something to say,” I tell the panel.
“Go ahead, Hawk,” Mr. Walker says.
“I grew up in Richfield and the first Little League field was on a small piece of land my father let us play on. When I received my first paycheck, I came back here and established The Sinclair Fields, hoping they’d get used by aspiring softball and baseball players. Every year, I paid the youth center to keep the fields in the best shape possible. It was my mistake for not coming home every year because maybe if I had, I would’ve seen how the programs using my fields were being run.”
“What do you mean?” the chairman asks.
“The Little League system here is broken. Boys and girls are left out, parents squabble and bad-mouth each other and the players — and their coaches — demean the players. They don’t coach, they yell, and in my opinion are not qualified to coach youth sports. I know you can’t do anything to change the atmosphere, but I can.”
“Hold on, Mr. Chairman, he can’t change anything. He’s not even a resident,” Larsen blurts out.
I walk toward the table and pass out five copies of the agreement I had drawn up for usage of the fields. “Moving forward,” I say to the board and audience, “I will employ the necessary people to run the fields. They will oversee try-outs, appoint coaches and run the day-to-day operations. Coaches will be vetted and required to go through online training, much like the coaching staff from the school. The fields will continue to be free of charge to schools and Little League. However, parents are expected to treat children, as well as others, with respect and allow the coaches to coach and the players to play.”
“He can’t make these changes,” Larsen says.
“I’m afraid he can, Mr. Larsen.” The chairman shuffles his papers together. “I suggest you find a way to play nice in the sandbox, Mr. Larsen, otherwise it seems that your team might not have a place to play. This meeting . . .or whatever it was . . .is adjourned.”
When I go to the people supporting me, they tell me congratulations, although it’s not really a victory. I should’ve been paying attention to what’s been going on a long time ago, but out of sight, out of mind. Avery gives me a hug before she takes the girls to see their grandfather. I have to say that move by them earlier was brilliant and I wish I had thought of it myself. I know it wasn’t actually my sister’s intent, but I’m glad the twins did it.
After everyone files out, Bellamy and I are the last to leave. I hesitate for a brief moment before I put my hand on her back and guide her to the door. Our relationship — or whatever it is that we have going on here — is at a stalemate. Weeks ago, I was determined to kiss her and now I’m afraid to get attached, although I fear that I already am. My return to Boston is inevitable. It’s going to happen, and it seems unkind of me to start something with her that is only going to end in heartache for both us. Yet, the desire to be with her is strong and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hold back.
As soon as we step out of the conference room, we run into Matty, who is standing in the hallway by herself.
“Hey, Matty. Do your parents know you’re still here?” Bellamy asks. Matty, whose name I recently found out is Mattingly — I can only assume after Don Mattingly who was one of my favorite players of all time — looks like my nieces with similarly heart shaped faces and blue eyes. The only difference is that Matty’s hair is a darker shade of blonde, almost a light brown, and my nieces are blonde.
“Yeah, they’re outside.” She points to the window and I follow her gesture, stepping forward to look. They’re fighting. Arms are flailing about and I can hear muffled yelling. I frown and step back to where Bellamy and Matty are. “I was wondering if you have room on your team for me?”
“Excuse me?” I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I’m caught off guard by her question. Bellamy squeezes my hand and I find it calms me almost immediately. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“You did,” she says. “I’d like to come play for you.”
“But your dad . . . ” I cock my head slightly toward the window before looking back at Matty. “Matty as much as I’d love to have you—”
“Good, it’s settled. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Brett, you won’t have to.” The young girl bolts down the stairs and out the door before I can even finish my last thought.
“What just happened?”
“It seems that Matty is going to be a Mini Renegade.”
“But why?” I wonder aloud.
“It only makes sense since she’s been at every one of your practices.”
“I know.”
Bellamy steps in front of me and places her hands on my sides. “Maybe this is one of those gift horses you aren’t supposed to look in the mouth.”
“I’ve seen Brett’s team play. They can make it to the Little League World Series. I won’t even be around that long to see this team go that far. As much as I would love to have her, I think it’s a mistake.”
“Then you should go over there and speak with them, let them know your concerns. Clearly, she wants away from Brett — not that I blame her — but maybe if she knows it’s better for her to play with his team, she’ll stay.” I nod and pull Bellamy in for a kiss on the cheek, again.
On the way to her house, I ask her if she wants to come with me to the Larsens’. She passes, which I expected, but she asks me to stop by on my way back to let her know how things went. All the way over to Brett’s, Bellamy’s request replays in my mind. Stop by, don’t call. She wants me to come over, despite it being late. She’s going to tempt me and there’s no way I’ll be able to say no.
All the lights are on at the Larsens’ and their loud voices carry as I walk up the walkway. I don’t even want to know what the neighbors must think. It’s fear of the unknown and remembering the faint bruising on Annie’s face when I last saw her that has me pounding on the door. It swings open and Brett’s there, angry.
“What the hell do you want?”
“I came to make peace,” I tell him. “This animosity between us doesn’t need to be here, Brett.”