“That’s all I’m good for, huh? Being your handyman?”
“Maybe.” I release my hold on her and she relents.
“Fine,” she huffs. “We missed you.Imissed you. The house is boring and lonely without you now and Emma had a half day today, so we grabbed a flight. Surprise.”
“Best kind.” I step back and look around me. “Where is the kid?”
Nola points a few rows back to where Emma’s sitting between two people I assume are her grandparents. She stands and waves with both hands. I wave back and laugh again.
“How long are you here?” I ask, looking back to the field where I know I’m needed.
“We leave Sunday mid-morning to make it for my parents’ anniversary dinner that night, but whatever time you can give me between now and then, I’m yours.” She says it like that’s the only thing in the world that she wants to be: mine.
In a swift movement, I dip her. My lips catch her surprise and I kiss her good. People around us erupt in cheers and it all goes hazy as I deepen it. Her hands cup my face and she pulls me closer. When I finally lift her, she pretends to beembarrassed and plays it up for the crowd. We are both not the same people we were six months ago.
Yes, she kissed a stranger at a bar, but that’s when I was the resident curmudgeon and she was the hesitant, rule-following type A. She carried out a dare and ran away afterward. Now she holds onto my hand, letting our fingers slip apart as I move for the railing.
“Gramps, nobody wants to see geriatric love!” Larsen shouts from the field. The guys around him snicker.
“I gotta go teach these boys some respect,” I say. “See you after the game.”
During the bottomhalf of the first inning, I’m the first up to bat. I walk up to the batter’s box and shake my hips, hitting my batting helmet twice, before taking my stance and giving a practice swing. The move has always been for Stella, to let her know I’m thinking of her as she watches from home, but today, it’s more than that. I do it because I’m happy. That’s when it hits me. I’m happily in love with my wife. That realization gives me a boost, and I hit an easy double on the first pitch thrown.
“I thinkyou’re a good luck charm.” I lean back against the railing and turn my face up to the sun. Its warmth washes over me. The ferry releases a prolonged horn blast, signaling our departure from Pier 50. There’s a jolt and we start gliding over Elliott Bay. A toddler near us shrieks in utter glee. We’restanding at the bow, Seattle to our backs and our destination, Bremerton, an hour to our west.
Nola leans on the railing next to me and glances over at the water below. “How do you figure?”
“Easy.” I tick the reasons off my fingers. “We won last night’s game, we won today’s, I hit a home run in both first-at-bats,andwe’re on our second day in a row of sunshine. I’m never letting you leave.” My attention turns from the cloudless sky to her studying me in a way that says she’s got a lot on her mind. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m feeling a little guilty we left Emma at her grandparents’ because she loves ferry rides.” She gives a one shoulder shrug and I know her well enough to know that’s not the full story but I don’t push.
Last night, after the game, we grabbed burritos from this little food truck that sits outside the ballpark. Sitting on a rickety picnic table, Emma was overhyped by both the win and staying up way past her bedtime. It was endearing how she talked me up to her grandparents—explaining how I wasn’t only the world’s best third baseman but I was also her former P.E. teacher. They were kind and asked me questions. There was an awkward moment when I asked if the Adler girls were ready to go home and Emma loudly announced, “I’m having a sleepover with Grandma Naomi and Grandpa John, but Mom’s going with you so you two can kiss all night.”
We did.
The next morning, we got up early and had omelets before going to the ballpark together. Walking into the stadium hand in hand, my brain slipped from the anchored reality I try to stay grounded in on game days. It was hard not letting my fresh feelings for Nola run away with me and picture moments like this being our normal life together.
After the game, I asked if there was anything she wanted to do today and she said she wanted to ride the ferry to Bremerton.
“Has Emma ever done this before?” I ask.
“Only a million times,” she says with a smirk, leaning into me.
“You seem sad?”
“It’s just a mom guilt thing I can’t explain.”
I pull her against my chest and we stand there, letting the sea air ruffle our hair, spindrift falling over us. Her breathing slows, and it’s the best feeling in the world, knowing I make somebody as comfortable as they make me. This is all I need for the rest of my life.
“You’re a great mom, you know that, right?”
She hums and tips up on her toes to give me a kiss. “Have you ever wanted to be a dad?”
“I feel like this is a trick question.” I say it lightly, and we both chuckle, but it’s a legitimate statement. We’re mid-thirties. I love her. I’m not sure if she loves me back, but she’s asking this, so I’m hoping it’s a good sign. However, she’s done the mom thing and the baby thing and I’ve heard Violet talk about how much harder it is to become a mom when you’re in your mid-thirties. Not just getting pregnant but the delivery too. Then caring for a baby when you’re older and more tired seems rough.
When I don’t say anything more, she clarifies. “I’m not judging. I’m just curious. You’re great with Emma and I didn’t know if that’s because it’s Emma or if it’s because you inherently like kids and would want one or two . . . someday.”
The wind’s picked up and the spray washes up more frequently, so we move down the ship to the starboard side and ready ourselves to see Bainbridge Island halfway throughour hourlong ride. We both stare out at the bay and I think about how to answer her question.
