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PENELOPE

TEN YEARS AFTER THE WALK OFF

JANUARY

W e’re about ten minutes away from being shuffled into the studio to get ready for tonight’s show. I’m in my office, working on some last minute notes, thoroughly distracted by the sight of my husband sitting in his office across the bullpen. His sleeves are rolled up, glasses perched on his nose, and the overhead lighting is calling attention to the little bits of gray that have begun to appear at his temples. He looks up and catches my eye, throwing me a wink that makes me melt. I’m so distracted by the sight of him, I almost don’t hear my phone ringing.

“This is Hutchinson.”

“, this is Dianna Rollings. Do you have a moment to talk about the show tonight?”

Diana has been my contact in Cooperstown all throughout the planning of tonight’s show and the lead-up to On the Field’s Hall of Fame special. The final voting is in, and she’s calling to give me the updated list of inductees, and final vote count to announce later in the show. At the end of the call, I quickly hunt down Morgan, still going strong as executive producer of On the Field , and pass along the final list. Her eyes scan the page and meet mine for a split second before a grin spreads across her face.

“You should be the one to do it, ” she says as Jake walks up behind me, trying to sneak a peek at my note cards before I tuck them into the pocket of my skirt.

“Do what?”

Jake asks, his voice a rumble just behind my ear that still sends a shiver all the way to my toes. He presses a kiss to my cheek as he straightens his tie before helping me into my blazer.

“Oh, nothing, ” I brush away the inquiry with a wave of my hand. “Something for another show.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Jake draws me toward him and pulls me in for a kiss in an attempt to get me to spill my secrets, but I won’t take the bait. I break the kiss and straighten his tie, giving him a pat on the cheek before turning on my heel and walking off toward the studio. Jim gives me a questioning look as I take my seat beside him and I have to school my features into something a little more professional and a little less just-made-out-with-my-husband-in-the-office. I clip on my microphone, straighten my notecards, and then the cameras roll.

“Good evening, and welcome to On the Field . I’m Hutchinson, and joining me tonight are Max Harrison and Jake Hutchinson. We have an exciting show for you tonight. As you know, this is our Hall of Fame show. We have the lists in front of us of the upcoming Hall of Fame inductees, and it’s truly a privilege to be able to make this announcement tonight. Max, take it away.”

Jake is next to me, shuffling through his notecards, a furrow in his brow as a muscle tics in his jaw. I reach out my hand to slow his movements, he looks at me and tilts his head to the side, an unspoken question hanging in the air between us. He doesn’t have the list. I didn’t give it to him. I haven’t given it to him for the last handful of years. This is Jake’s fourth year of eligibility for induction into the Hall of Fame. He had a brilliant career that was unfortunately derailed by a series of arm injuries. We’d been hopeful that he’d make it in after his first year on the ballot but tempered our expectations.

Each year when voting rolls around, Jake signs out of his social media accounts, and avoids watching anything other than our show. He doesn’t like to hear his career rehashed – debate over whether or not he deserves to be elected. I think he does. But I don’t get to vote. Jim is wrapping up reading the list of honorees, congratulating each one on this well deserved honor. This years’ class is small, but power packed.

When Max finishes with the list of honorees, he throws to me to introduce the discussion portion of the show. But what only Morgan and I know is, there’s another name on the list. I pull my notecards from my skirt pocket, and with them, a very discreetly folded handkerchief, a gift from my brother-in-law James and set them on the desk in front of me.

“Thank you, Max. And, I apologize, I gave you an incomplete list. There’s one more member of this years’ Hall of Fame class.” Max and Jake give me twin expressions of confusion, Jake’s eyes meeting mine as if pleading for some unspoken…something. I can’t even look at him. I force myself to face the camera. To keep it professional. I clear my throat and try to swallow around the emotion that wells up as I begin to read my notes.

“With a career 2.55 ERA, two Cy Young Awards, an All-Star start, and World Series MVP….it is my distinct honor, ” I turn to Jake, who looks stunned, as tears slip from my eyes, “to announce that you, Jake Hutchinson, have been elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame.” Max stands and applauds, the crew behind the camera joins in, and I turn to my husband, tears in his eyes as he wraps his arms around me and buries his head against my shoulder, body shaking with tears.

“You earned this, Stormcloud. I’m so proud of you.”

JULY

It’s a beautiful sunny day in upstate New York. The whole family has driven over from Saratoga and have taken up an entire row on the lawn. Bright blue sky overhead, big fluffy white clouds, and the backdrop of the stage. Row upon row of chairs is set up on the expansive green lawn, and as my gaze drifts up to the stage, I can’t help but think of all the years I spent sitting at home with my dad, watching this ceremony on television.

We’d get home from church, and mom would let us eat Sunday dinner in the living room while we watched. I always loved watching the announcement of the living hall of famers in attendance, dad would comment on which ones he’d seen play. The ones he grew up watching. The ones who weren’t included amongst their ranks, but should have been. We’d watch the speeches of the incoming inductees, both of us crying through the whole thing.

We always said we’d be here together someday.

I never imagined I’d be here without him.

And I never imagined I would end up sitting in the section reserved for the family of the inductees.

We find our way to our seats, and Junie fidgets beside me, she’s restless and looking for her dad. I reach into my ‘keep the kid occupied’ bag and hand her a book and a bag of grapes. Satisfied, she settles into a seat beside Mackenzie, who helps her sound out words as she reads aloud to anyone willing to listen. So, everyone.

My phone pings with an incoming text from Jake, after making sure the family is situated and someone has an eye on my daughters, I excuse myself to go find him backstage. He’s standing in the back of the tent, alone, going over his speech again. He is surrounded by a sea of hall of fame baseball players and I do my very best not to stop and introduce myself to every man in this tent. I’m here to see my husband.

“Jake? Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His brow is furrowed, lips turned down in a scowl. This should be one of the best days of his life, yet he looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Looking up and meeting my gaze, his features soften. Brow smoothing out and a small smile replaces his frown. He frames my face gently with his hands and draws me forward for a kiss. I twine my arms around his neck and stretch up on to my toes to meet him.

“I didn’t want to go out there without doing that first.” He smiles as he wraps me in a hug, gathering me into his chest. He holds me tight, my head pressed to his chest, and I can feel his erratic heartbeat. He breathes deep and matches his breathing to mine. I feel him relax in my arms. “Thank you.”

“Knock ‘em dead” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You deserve this. Soak it all in.”

I make my way back to where the family is waiting for me. My brother Peter, looking more and more like our dad with every passing year, gathers me in a hug and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “How is he?”

“Understandably nervous, but he’ll be just fine.”

“I have no doubt. And how are you?” He gives me a very pointed, big brother look.

“I’m trying really hard to hold it together,” I laugh as a tear slips down my cheek and I swipe it away. “But, I’m good.”

How can I not be? On a day like this, surrounded by family, and generations of baseball history? How can I not be okay? A hush falls over the crowd as people begin to take their seats, the master of ceremonies takes the stage, and I take my seat – Leigh and Juniper are seated on one side of me, and Jax on the other.

The living hall of famers file out and take their seats. Legends, all of them. Men that I grew up watching or heard stories about from my dad. Men that Jake looked up to and learned from. And now, my husband will be among their ranks.

A hall of famer.

I couldn’t be prouder.

There’s no greater honor in baseball than this, and I am thrilled we get to share this with our family.I sit, flanked by my daughters, and the rest of our row is filled with family. Junie sits beside her cousin Alice, who drove up from her fine arts college to be here, and next to her is Mackenzie, fresh off of an international friendly with the national soccer team. Sam and Ben are sandwiched between James and Mandy, chattering excitedly about the baseball players they’ll get to see today, including their uncle Max. Maxwell Harrison was elected to the Hall in his first year of eligibility and has been working with us on On the Field ever since.

Leigh is talking to the people around us, ever my social butterfly. She turns and faces the stage as we’re welcomed and given a history of the Hall of Fame and Museum.

And then the moment we’ve been waiting for…

Jake is the last to give his speech. When he steps to the podium, his gaze scans the crowd until he finds me. Finds us .

Jake didn’t share any of his speech with me ahead of time, but it’s what I expected. He thanks his parents and siblings, coaches and teammates. And then…

“I owe a debt of gratitude to a man who isn’t with us today. To a man who watched me when I was a struggling minor leaguer and reminded me of the joy that I was missing. The joy that I’d let drain out of me. A man who made me feel like a star when I was facing being cut from the roster. A man who, in one fleeting moment in my first spring training, completely changed my life. And whose example lives on in his daughter.”

I can’t look at him.

I can’t.

Because if I do, my already slipping composure will dissolve completely.

“And to my wife,” whatever illusion of composure I thought I had is gone now. “The woman who gave me what I never knew I needed: stability. A home. The woman who helped me come to terms with the grief I experienced after my injuries. The woman who taught me to cook.”

This draws a laugh from the crowd.

“You brought Sunshine back into my life.”

“Leigh and Juniper, my precious girls. , my Sunshine. As wonderful as this honor is, I consider it the honor of a lifetime to be your father. Your husband.”

The crowd goes nuts. I stay seated as the audience around me erupts. Someone pats me on the back, Jax reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. And Jake, his eyes scan the crowd once more and land on me. He presses his hand over his heart and gives me a nod.

At the end of the night, exhausted from celebrating and full from the delicious meal we enjoyed with this year's inductees, we drive home and after sending the girls to their rooms, I join Jake on the deck.

He pulls me down onto the swing beside him, and gathers me into his arms, holding me close and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Crickets chirp around us, and stars glitter in the sky overhead. The sound of a baseball game floats out the screen door and fills the air around us. I lean into my husband’s embrace and close my eyes, wrapped in the comfort of home and baseball and family.