The three of us stand together and look on while the twins throw the ball back and forth, missing with their aim more often than not. They’re laughing, though, which is what I remember most about my first few baseball practices. It was all about thefun for me. It forged a life-long love affair with the game. I want that great beginning for the twins.
“You want to grab a glove and join us?” I prompt Brandon. The silence had gone on long enough.
“Aww, I wish I could, man. But I just stopped in to talk to Linds about something.”
I glance to my right, where Lindsey is still crouched next to Holly. Her shoulders have risen, and I’m not sure whether it’s because she’s anxious about talking with her ex or because he called her Linds. Both, I think.
“All right, well, I’ll be out there running drills. If you change your mind, I have a spare glove in my black bag. I mean, unless you ran out and bought a brand new one.” I turn my back on him and shake with a short laugh. That’s all I can do to the dude, make jokes about his money and the way he’s trying to buy his boys’ affection. My jab doesn’t seem to faze him. It would be so much easier if I could punch him in the nose.
“Come on, Dale. I could use your help with this drill.” I urge Lindsey’s father to walk out to the middle of the field with me, and he obliges.
We gather the kids into two lines and walk them through a relay race where they have to run to the other side of the infield, then field a slow-rolling ground ball and throw it back. It’s going to be chaos, like it always is, but the kids will love it, and they’ll start working as a team to figure things out. Plus, it will give me time to keep an eye on the conversation happening between Lindsey and her ex.
“I don’t like the way she gets small around him,” I say to her dad as the kids get started. Already, both balls have been missed, and half of each team is racing to retrieve them.
Dale grunts and covers his mouth, though not well, and leans toward me.
“I hate the way he’s standing there breathing on this side of the ground.”
I flash my attention to him, a bit shocked and definitely glad his grandsons aren’t nearby, then we break into heavy laughter.
He shrugs.
“I said what I said. Never liked the guy. He doesn’t like sports. Who doesn’t like sports?”
It’s a fair assessment, especially from a guy who spent his life coaching and who raised two daughters who know more about baseball than most of the dudes doing color commentary on TV.
After a few minutes, it seems as though the conversation has ceased between Brandon and Lindsey, though they’re still standing next to one another. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and I’ve learned enough about her body language to tell she’s either fighting not to cry or holding in anger. I don’t know Brandon well, but he reads like a kindergarten book with his posture—smugly relaxed with his hands in his pockets, his sunglasses back over his eyes.
Lindsey bends down eventually, picking up Holly and feeling her bottom to see if she needs a change, and Brandon takes a few steps away to give her some space. My guess is he never changed the boys’ diapers, so he’s doesn’t know how to handle what Lindsey’s doing.
“Can you watch these guys for a sec?” I say to Dale.
He follows my gaze toward his soon-to-be ex son-in-law, then nods. I drop my hands in my pockets after tucking my mitt under my arm, then head toward Brandon, trying my best not to rush. I don’t want it to look like I’m rescuing Lindsey. I’m not. She can definitely take care of herself. But I need this guy to know that everyone is on her side.
Brandon tips his chin up as I approach, and I offer him my mitt.
“Want to join in on the fun?” I know he doesn’t. He hates that he’s stuck out here.
“Is that what they’re having? Fun?” He grimaces, then shakes his head at what seems to have devolved into a game of keep-away out on the field.
I chuckle.
“Looks pretty fun to me.”
I drop my glove to the ground and look on with him, standing beside him while Lindsey takes Holly to the van.
“You could have hired a real nanny, you know,” he finally says.
We eye one another, and he shakes with a smug, silent laugh, then turns his gaze back to the field. I keep my focus right on him.
“She’s great with my daughter. She’s pretty great with your boys, too.” I stare at him until he finally gives in and glances at me briefly.
“Yeah, that’s just it. They’remyboys. You get that, right?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple giving away the strain he’s feeling.
That’s what this is about. He’s jealous.
I bend down and pick up my mitt again, this time tapping his bicep with it, and forcing him to give it a good look.
