Angels Walking (27 page)

“Wow . . . we’ll be gone at the same time.” He slowed down, his eyes on hers. “Pensacola. That’s where your old boyfriend plays baseball.”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. They had discussed Tyler early in their relationship. “I mean, he’s hurt. But he lives there.”

Arnie seemed to mull over her words as they kept walking. “How did you know he was hurt?”

“Saw it on a newsfeed somewhere. Google, maybe.” She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she knew what Tyler Ames was doing. “Anyway, yes. He lives there.”

“Okay.” Arnie nodded slowly, his eyes straight ahead again. “Will you see him?”

She didn’t want to mention the private Facebook messages. One day, maybe. Not now. “I haven’t told him I’m coming.” She kept her tone light to cover up her guilt. After all,
she’d talked with Tyler on Facebook. But how could she tell him that? “I might look him up. It’s been a long time.”

Again Arnie took his time processing. “Should I worry?”

“About me seeing Tyler?” Sami laughed, but it fell flat. She was being dishonest and she hated it. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Not yet,
she thought.

“Okay.” Arnie smiled and resumed his earlier pace. “Just making sure.” They walked a few more steps. “The thing about this case is the amount of evidence. You know? Like I could take a lifetime gathering information.”

Sami tried to switch gears. Apparently they were done talking about Pensacola and Tyler Ames and anything remotely related to her. She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“The trick is knowing when I have enough information and making sure it’s the strongest stuff I can find. All within my deadline.” He shook his head. “It’s a great challenge, Samantha. Really.”

“I’m sure.” She volleyed feedback whenever the conversation demanded it. But her mind was no longer on a walk with her boyfriend along a moonlit boulevard toward a southern California pier. It was on a different, distant shore, two thousand miles away in Pensacola, Florida.

With a boy she had never quite forgotten.

JUST AFTER FOUR
o’clock Sunday afternoon, Sami’s American Airlines flight arrived in Pensacola. Despite Mary Catherine’s convincing argument and an entire day of arguing with herself, Sami still hadn’t decided whether she should see Tyler.
Sure, they’d talked on Facebook, and yes, he had straightened up. But that didn’t mean he had found his way back to the boy he’d been the day he boarded the bus to Billings.

If she looked him up, it was because she wanted to find
that
guy, the one she’d lost along the way. And even if she found him, the real Tyler, then what? She had Arnie. A serious boyfriend who wanted to marry her—even if she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about him. Either way, why seek out Tyler now?

But as soon as she completed that round of silent arguments, Sami would look out the window at a sky full of puffy white clouds and remember the feel of Tyler’s arm against hers, the way she felt in his embrace. The way she had missed him. And with the certainty of her next breath, she couldn’t imagine flying to Pensacola and not finding him.

She collected her bags, exhausted from the emotional tug-of-war. Maybe if she went by the baseball stadium she would have a sense of what she should do. She had nowhere else to go, nothing else on her agenda tonight. Tyler had said he was on the mend, working toward the Big Leagues again. He might even be at the facility now.

The forecast showed high seventies and blue skies. For a moment, Sami thought about renting a convertible. The sort of car she might have driven if Tyler were still in her life. But she settled on a sensible four-door sedan. Her client might think she wasn’t serious if she showed up with the top down, hair windblown. Ten minutes later, Sami pulled into the Bayfront Stadium parking lot. Only a few cars were parked near a side entrance.

The team might even be on the road. Sami used her
phone to check the Blue Wahoos’ schedule and what she found surprised her. Their season had ended weeks ago. She thought about the time of year. October. Yes, of course their season was over. Minor league baseball playoffs were a month before the majors. Any baseball fan should’ve known that.

So maybe one of the cars parked here was Tyler’s. If anyone was here on a Sunday night it would be him—working around the clock to get back on the pitching mound. Sami drove slowly toward the side entrance and parked her car near the others. Her heart pounded, and the palms of her hands felt damp.

Are you here, Tyler? Still working on your dream?
She cut the engine and stared at the entrance for a long time. Being here took her back, the way she knew it would. The crack of the bat, the smell of fresh-cut grass on the ball field. The stadium was beautiful and with her windows rolled down, Sami could hear the nearby surf. The view from the parking lot was spectacular.

Sami breathed in the sweet ocean air. She couldn’t come this far and miss her chance. The conversation might not go anywhere. It might be as shallow and matter-of-fact as the Facebook messages. But she had to find him, had to look into his eyes and see for herself if any remnant of the old Tyler Ames remained.

Once her heart was made up, there was no turning back. She climbed out of the rental, locked the doors, and headed for the entrance. Inside she found a security guard reading a book. He looked up, uninterested. “Can I help you?”

“My friend plays for the team.” Sami smiled, looking past
the guard station to a hallway and a series of offices. “I’m trying to find him.”

“Not many players here today. Just coaches mostly.”

“That’s fine. Maybe I could talk to one of them.”

The man squinted. “What player you looking for?”

“Tyler Ames. He’s a pitcher.”

He seemed to weigh her request. “Hold on.” He picked up a phone on his desk and turned his chair so she couldn’t see his face. It was impossible to hear his conversation, but after a few seconds he hung up and turned to her again. “Stay here. Jep Black’s coming out. He’s the manager.”

“Thank you.” Sami leaned against the door and waited.

A minute passed and then a squat man with a Blue Wahoos jacket and baseball cap approached her. He wasn’t smiling. “Can I help you?”

She held out her hand. “I’m Samantha Dawson. An old friend of Tyler Ames.” She smiled. “I’m in town on business. Thought I’d look him up.”

“Tyler was cut. He doesn’t play for us anymore.” The man looked guarded. “I’m sorry.”

Sami tried not to react. Tyler hadn’t said anything about being cut. He was on the mend, working toward the Bigs. She scrambled for something to say. “Did that . . . happen recently?”

“He was released the day after his injury.” Jep Black shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Sami. “Lousy deal. Tyler’s a great pitcher.”

None of this made sense. Sami chastised herself for not checking first. “Is he . . . playing somewhere else?”

“He’s still in town far as I know.” Jep lowered his voice.
“Last I heard he was working at Merrill Place—a retirement center.” He took a step back. Again he seemed careful with his words. “If you find him, tell him we’re pulling for him.”

“Yes. I’ll tell him.” She was stunned. Too shocked to do anything but find her way back to her car. “Thank you.”

Sami sat behind the wheel, not moving. Tyler was working at a retirement center? No wonder he hadn’t gone into detail or written back. How could he be working on a return to the game if he’d been cut? If no one else had picked him up? Of course they hadn’t. Especially after his injury. Sami used her phone to find the address. Then she punched it in her GPS.

Once Merrill Place was in sight, she parked along the curb across the street. So this was where Tyler worked. Doing what? As far as she knew he had no training in anything but baseball.

She closed her eyes and she could see him, just before he stepped on the bus that long-ago day.
I’ll prove them all wrong, Sami.
The memory faded and she opened her eyes. Merrill Place was an older, low-slung building with a simple brick sign at the front of the driveway.
Tyler, what are you doing here?

Sami pulled away and drove straight to the beach. She needed to think, to wrap her mind around what she would say if she found Tyler. She climbed out of her car and walked to a retaining wall. For a long moment she leaned against it, facing the water.

He hadn’t been completely honest with her after all. He’d said nothing about being cut from the Blue Wahoos or working at Merrill Place. Was he hiding something? He could be married for all she knew.

The breeze settled her anxious heart. Maybe it was none of that. Maybe Tyler was simply at rock bottom and he hadn’t wanted her to know.

For the next hour she walked along the sand, remembering her year with Tyler and the size of his dreams. They had been bigger than the Gulf of Mexico back then. So what about now?

Not until she had returned to her car was Sami sure she was ready to see him. Besides his parents, she might be the only person who remembered how badly he wanted to make it, how hard he would have to try to find his way back now that he’d been cut. She owed it to Tyler to stop in and talk to him, encourage him to fight for the chance to pitch again.

Even if it was the last conversation they ever had.

23

T
HE SHAKES HAD STOPPED,
but there was no escaping the prison of pain. Tyler pushed the mop over the vast floors at the front entrance of Merrill Place and tried to remember life before his torn labrum. He hummed “Amazing Grace” as he worked.

I once was lost but now am found . . .

He had a plan now. He would save his money and come spring, he would have half of what he needed for the surgery. Then he would take a few weeks off, drive to California, and visit his parents. He would explain the situation and tell them he was sorry. Virginia said apologies were free and people should use them more often.
A person can never say “I’m sorry” or “I love you” often enough.
Those were her words.

His parents might not welcome him, but Tyler was pretty certain they’d listen. At least that much. He would explain that he never should’ve allowed so much time to pass and then maybe they would forgive him. His parents would know
where he could turn. Which doctor might take payments. That sort of thing. Certainly someone in Simi Valley would remember him and repair his labrum—if he had at least half the money.

Get the surgery by April, and he’d have a year to come back, a year to find the speed and accuracy that had always defined him. Once he was pitching like himself, he’d start with the Blue Wahoos. If they didn’t want him, he’d contact every AA team in the country. Someone would take a chance on him. He was still Tyler Ames. Surely God had a plan for him. Tyler was actually beginning to believe that.

He had a million miles to go, but he was off Oxycodone and working out every day. He could never be perfect on his own—not in baseball and not in his daily interactions. He needed God’s grace to get him through. It had taken meeting Virginia Hutcheson to understand that. Even on his best days before his injury, Tyler Ames had been lost.

Now he was found.

The sound of the front doors caught his attention and he turned, ready to alert whoever it was that the floors were wet. But before he could open his mouth he felt the world tilt hard to one side. Standing there, her eyes locked on his, was the only girl he’d ever loved, the one he never expected to see again.

“Sami,” he whispered. He felt the blood drain from his face as he leaned the mop against the nearest wall and turned to face her.

“Tyler.” She didn’t move, didn’t say anything else. As if words might get in the way.

It took ten seconds before Tyler saw the situation through
her eyes. The great Tyler Ames, winner of the Little League World Series, was washing floors at Merrill Place, his damaged arm still in a sling nearly two months after his injury. He stood a little straighter and went to her. He hugged her, quick and awkward-like, the unconvincing embrace of distant acquaintances. He stepped back and found his smile. “Why are you here?”

“Business. I have meetings this afternoon and tomorrow.” She looked embarrassed for him, like even she didn’t know what to say.