Page 153 of Confessions

They passed the park and Ben glanced at the baseball field. “Randy’s already here,” he said with a frown. “I really should stop—” Without waiting for her response, he turned onto a side street near the baseball diamonds and guided the truck to a stop near the curb. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Take your time. I’ll wait.”

Ben didn’t look convinced, but pocketed his keys and climbed quickly out of the cab. Attila, ready for adventure, leapt to the ground and took off at a sprint. Hands in his back pockets, Ben strode across the dewy grass to join a huddle of men and boys, some of whom were already tossing a ball around. Carlie’s heart twisted as she watched the sunlight gleam against his dark hair and his face break into a smile as he spied his nephew.

Ben was irrevocably tied to Randy, whether he knew it or not, and therefore tied to Tracy, as well. Carlie felt like a selfish fool for the jealousy that balled in her stomach. Randy needed him. More than she did.

Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she watched. Ben stood out in the crowd of men wearing warm-up suits, baseball hats and league jackets. In his faded jeans, rumpled leather jacket, T-shirt and aviator glasses, he looked more like a stuntman for a Hollywood film than a father.

Carlie couldn’t help but watch. A skinny kid with brown hair and an Oakland A’s cap ran up to Ben. Ben teased the boy and yanked off his hat to rumple his hair. The kid danced around him and made a big fuss over Attila, who barked and jumped like a puppy. Carlie’s heart cracked as she realized this should be her son—she and Ben should have had a child—a son or daughter—this very age.

Other kids raced over to check out the dog. Bundled in sweatpants and sweatshirts, with major league caps on their heads and huge fielding gloves on their hands, the boys were laughing and talking and shoving each other, their faces red, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

One big lanky kid threw the dog a ball and the anxious shepherd took off at a sprint. Excited voices and peals of laughter floated on the morning breeze.

Carlie felt numb inside. This was where Ben belonged. He glanced to the pickup and waved as he extracted himself from the group. She lifted her hand but he’d already turned away and helped sign the boy up at a table where mothers were sipping coffee while guarding application forms.

One mom offered him coffee and a smile; another was all business, pointing to the registration forms. Other boys had already batted and pitched while judges in windbreakers and baseball caps watched their performance from bleachers that needed a new coat of paint.

Tracy was there, too, wearing a baseball cap and hovering nearby and smiling up at Ben. It hit Carlie like a ton of bricks: she was the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. That thought made her stomach clench into a painful ball. Why wouldn’t she ever learn?

Ben said something to Tracy and she laughed. Then Randy han

ded his uncle a ball and they started playing catch, Ben squatting like a catcher, Randy winding up to pitch.

If only their own child had lived! Knowing that she had to leave before her raw emotions started to strangle her, Carlie hopped out of the truck and trudged across the wet grass. She would explain to Ben that she could walk back to the apartment. The hike was less than a mile and the exercise would do her some good. She could leave him here with his nephew—where he belonged—and she wouldn’t have to torture herself any longer.

Randy was just getting ready to bat for the judges. Carlie was close enough to hear Ben talking to the boy.

“Remember—eye on the ball,” Ben encouraged, his face as intense as if his own son were trying out. “Address the plate and don’t let that pitcher scare you.” Ben took off his glasses and gave the boy a wink.

“I won’t.”

“You can do it,” Tracy encouraged, straightening the boy’s sweatshirt. “You’re the best, honey.”

Was it her imagination, or did Carlie see Randy’s back stiffen a little as he walked to the short line near the on-deck circle.

“He’s just got to do well,” Tracy confided in Ben. She was so nervous, she was chewing on her polished nails. “Jerry Tienman is here and he’s the coach I want for Randy.”

“Is he who Randy wants?”

“Of course. Tienman is the best coach in the league and last year, over half his team became all-stars....” Her voice drifted off as she noticed Carlie approaching. A web of tiny lines formed between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Carlie said, forcing a smile as she caught Ben’s attention. “But I’ve got to go.”

Ben glanced from Carlie to the plate. “This’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Randy would really be disappointed if you left,” Tracy cut in, and Carlie felt like a heel.

“Really. You stay here. It’s okay. I’ll just cut through the park. It’s only a few blocks.”

Ben’s lips tightened. “Just hang in here, okay?”

“Really—”