Stone Cold (Camel Club 3)
CHAPTER 38
HARRY FINN WATCHED his youngest son, Patrick, swing and miss on a ball that was at eye level. Parents in the stands next to Finn groaned, the third strike was called and the game was over. Patrick had left the tying run on second and the winning run was standing in the boy’s cleats at home plate. The ten-year-old walked dejectedly back to his dugout, bat dragging, while the other team started celebrating. Patrick’s coach gave them all a little pep talk, the boys had their after-game snack, which for many was the highlight of the entire evening, and parents started rounding up their future all-stars for the ride home.
Patrick was still sitting in the dugout, his helmet and batting gloves on as though he were just waiting for another shot to put the ball over the fence. Finn grabbed a snack for him and sat down next to him in the dugout.
“You played a great game, Pat,” he said, handing the boy a bag of Doritos and an orange Gatorade. “I’m proud of you.”
“I struck out, Dad. I lost the game for my team.”
“You also got on base twice, scored both times and drove in three more. And playing center field you caught a ball that was actually over the fence with two men on and two outs. That saved three runs right there.” He rubbed his son’s shoulder. “You played a good game. But you can’t win them all.”
“Is this where you tell me losing builds character?”
“Yeah, it is. Just don’t make a habit out of it. Everybody really hates a loser.” He playfully slapped his son’s helmet. “And if you’re not going to eat those chips I’ll take ’em.” He grabbed the bag.
“Hey, those are mine. I earned them.”
“I thought you lost the game for your team.”
“The game wouldn’t have been close except for me.”
“Finally figured that out, did you? I knew you had the Finns’ brains in there somewhere.” He rapped his knuckles on the helmet. “And take this thing off, you’re hardheaded enough already.”
“Gee, Dad, thanks for all your support.”
“How about we grab some dinner on the way home?”
Patrick looked pleasantly surprised. “Just you and me?”
“Just you and me.”
“Won’t David be mad?”
“Your brother is thirteen. He doesn’t really like having his old man around all that much right now. I’m just not that cool or smart. That’ll change in about ten years when he’s in debt from college, can’t find a job and I’m suddenly brilliant again.”
“I think you’re smart. And cool.”
“That’s what I love about you.” As they walked back to the car, Finn lifted Patrick on his shoulders and took off running. As they arrived at the parking lot, a breathless Finn put his son down.
Laughing, Patrick said, “Dad, why do you keep carrying me around on your shoulders?”
Finn’s smile eased off his face and his eyes grew a little moist. “Because pretty soon I won’t be able to do it anymore, son. You’ll be too big. And even if you weren’t you wouldn’t want me to anyway.”
“Is it that big of a deal?” Patrick said as he munched on his chips.
Finn unlocked the car and threw his son’s bag inside. “Yeah, it is. You’ll understand really well when you’re a dad.”
They ate at a local burger place about a mile from their house.
Patrick said, “I love this food; nothing but grease.”
“Enjoy it while you can. When you get to be my age, it’s not that easy on the body.”
Patrick stuffed a french fry in his mouth and said, “How’s Grandma?” Finn stiffened just a bit. “Mom said you went to visit her. How’s she doing?”
“Okay. Well, actually not too great.”
“How come we never visit her anymore?”
“I’m not sure she’d want you to see her like she is now.”
“I don’t care about stuff like that. She was fun even if she talked a little funny.”
“Yeah, she was,” Finn said, staring down at his half-eaten cheeseburger, his appetite suddenly gone. “Maybe we’ll go see her soon.”
“You know, Dad, she doesn’t look very Irish.”
Finn thought of the tall, broad-shouldered woman with the sharply chiseled, near-gaunt features so many Eastern Europeans from that generation possessed. He could barely reconcile that image with the shrunken mass his mother had become. His son was right, she didn’t look very Irish, because she wasn’t. Still, Finn looked far more like his mother than his father. He said quickly, “She’s not. Your grandfather was Irish.” He didn’t enjoy lying to his son, but he knew the truth was not possible on this subject. Yes, his father, the Irish Jew.
“You said he was a cool guy.”
“Very cool.”
“I wish I could’ve known him.”
Me too, thought Finn. For a lot longer than I did.
“So where’s Grandma from, then?”
“Your grandmother was really from all over,” he answered vaguely.
When they got home Mandy met them at the door. After sending Patrick to get changed for bed she said, “Harry, you’re supposed to go into Susie’s class tomorrow. It’s parents’ career day.”
“Mandy, I told you I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.”
“All the other kids’ parents are doing it. We can’t leave Susie out. I’d go but I’m not sure cooking, cleaning and driving qualifies as a career.”
He gave her a kiss. “It does with me. You work harder than anybody I know.”
“You have to go, Harry. Susie will be so disappointed if you don’t.”
“Honey, come on. Give me a break.”
“Fine, but if you’re copping out, you go and tell her. She’s waiting up in bed.”
Mandy walked off, leaving Finn standing by the door. Groaning, he trudged up the stairs.
Susie was sitting up in bed, surrounded by her stuffed animals. She had eleven of them she kept on her bed; she couldn’t go to sleep without them. She called them her guardian angels. Around the foot of the bed were ten more stuffed animals. These were her “Knights of the Round Table.”
Her big blue eyes looked up at him as she got right to the point. “Are you coming tomorrow, Daddy?”
“I was just talking to Mom about that.”
“Jimmy Potts’ mom came in today. She’s a marine biologist.” Susie formed the words slowly while she scratched her cheek. “I don’t know what that is, but, Daddy, she brought live fish.”
“That sounds really cool.”
“I know you’ll be cool too. I’ve been telling everybody about you.”
“What have you been telling them?” Susie had no idea what he did for