Understanding hit her. That’s when his letters stopped.
“The PT who worked with me to get my mobility back is now one of my best friends. And he saved my life. In doing that, he made quite an impression on Em.”
How did a PT save his life? She wanted to ask, but they were in dangerous territory.
The Gil she knew was an amazing pitcher. The scouts were all over him that summer they were together. Everyone expected him to be drafted straight out of high school.
If Gil sensed her discomfort, he didn’t capitalize on it. He kept talking, his voice steady. “Rotator cuff tear, and my career ended before it began. My shoulder was never going to be stable enough for anyone to take a risk on me as a pitcher.”
“I’m ... so sorry.” She was. Baseball had been his life. She had to say something, but all she could do was apologize. Again. “I’m so very sorry.”
Gil didn’t shrug off her consolation. He took it like he was soaking it in. “Thank you. It wasn’t a great time to be me. I was lost for a while. All I’d cared about was baseball. It was all I wanted.”
That hurt. If anyone had asked her, she would have told them that fifteen years ago Gil Dixon had not one but two loves.
Baseball. And her.
Gil kept going, pouring salt in a gaping wound. “Suddenly, as a senior, I needed to apply to go to college, I couldn’t use myright arm, and I had no idea what my future was going to look like. Tim, my PT, was in his late twenties. He was cool. Had his life together. I didn’t think I’d ever have anything like what he had—a job he loved, a gorgeous woman in his life who he later married, stability. He was always smiling. Always in a good mood. Naturally, I hated him.”
Gil delivered the line in such a matter-of-fact tone that it took a second to register. When it did, Ivy set her mug down hard. “You hated him?”
“Completely. But he grew on me. And while I didn’t know it, he prayed for me. Good thing too, because the night I decided life wasn’t worth living, I called him, and he talked me off the ledge.”
Emily’s eyes were shimmering. “You can imagine how that impacted me.”
Ivy’s breakfast sat like a boulder in her stomach. He’d lost his future with her and his baseball career within a few weeks of each other. And he’d been so shattered, he’d considered ending his life.
Guilt clawed at her and doused the tiny flicker of hope that had burned. She could apologize. She would. But nothing would ever be the same. There was no going back. Some things couldn’t be fixed.
Gil gave Emily a shoulder bump. “I’ve grown up a lot since then.” Emily snorted. Gil ignored her. “There are far worse things than losing out on a major league career. I went to college a year later than my friends. Double majored in computer science and criminal justice with a minor in history. Took random electives and discovered things I was good at that had nothing to do with baseball. I was twenty-four by the time I graduated from college.
“Then I graduated from the police academy and joined the Chattanooga Police Department. I enjoyed it, but after four years on the force, I applied for the Secret Service. And that’s how Iwound up here.” Gil finished off a bite of toast. “And as much as I’d love to stay here and chat with you lovely ladies, I’m afraid we need to head to the police station.”
“The police station?”
Gil looked at his plate, then back at her. “The man who attacked you died this morning. It wasn’t the bullet. He was stable, then he was gone. Possible heart attack. The ME will do an autopsy to confirm, of course. Morris got an ID on him last night. His name was Larry Briscoe. I was going to meet Morris this morning to interview him, but since we can’t talk to him, Morris wants you to look at photos of some of Briscoe’s known associates. See if any of them look familiar.”
Ivy’s head spun. Had she killed him? Gil said it wasn’t the bullet, but getting shot could have caused him to have so much stress that he had a heart attack.
If Gil noticed her turmoil, he didn’t let on. “No one expects you to recognize men who were wearing masks. But it’s possible you’ve seen some of his known associates around. At a coffee shop or a grocery store. A restaurant you frequent or a gym. Anywhere they might have been watching you.”
Ivy grimaced. “I’ll try, but I don’t think it will be much use. I work. I come home. I go to church. I leave. I do most of my shopping online, I order takeout. I’m not likely to recognize anyone.”
“What do you do for fun?” Emily asked.
“I don’t do fun.” Ivy said the words lightly. She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. She had her calling. She’d made her choices.
“Why not?”
“I love what I do, Emily. Didn’t someone once say that if you love your job, you’ll never need a vacation? Or you’ll never work a day in your life? I enjoy my work. I’m good at it. We’re making a difference. The sooner we bring our prosthetics to the market,the sooner people will have a better quality of life. I’ve been busy for the past few years, starting the business, growing the business.”
Emily frowned. “I don’t think it’s a secret at this point that we’ve followed your career. And it’s impressive. Not that we’re surprised. You were always destined for greatness. But you have to do something other than work.”
“I tried that, early on. But I learned that people don’t understand when you have to stay late or put in extra hours over the weekend.” And by people, she meant people of both the male and female persuasion. “I started the company while I was in grad school. After you turn down enough invitations to parties and events, they stop coming. And I didn’t mind. I was busy. Then I moved our operation here, and it’s been wide open since. I barely have time to eat and sleep.”
As she talked, Emily and Gil alternated between looking at her and looking at each other. She had no doubt there was some serious twin telepathy happening, and it probably didn’t bode well for her.
Emily spoke first. “That’s not a healthy way to live.”
