Covering Home (17 page)

“Come on.” Wendy stood and motioned for her to follow. “We’re on the home stretch. You can do this.”

“Right.” Britt grabbed her briefcase and followed them off the train.

Shin greeted them with his trademark smile. “Welcome, everybody. What would you like to know about first?”

“Britt?” Paul asked. “Do you want to start with a quick tour of the Dome?”

She smiled at Shin and Jason. “Perfect.”

They followed Shin into the Dome while he explained the benefits of the architectural design. Britt stood inside the entrance and marveled at the complex steel and plastic-like membrane that spanned the baseball field.

“There isn’t a wall behind that last row?” She pointed to the gap between the seats and the posts that supported the roof. Branches from cherry trees poked through the opening, their blooms a refreshing splash of pink against the gray steel and concrete.

“No.” Shin shook his head. “This design is, how do you say, good for the earth? Heat from the sun warms the Dome, but clean air flows in from the outside.”

“Wow, that’s clever.” Britt scribbled a few notes while Paul turned on his camera. Weston scrambled to get a microphone in place. “So how is playing here different than the other domes?”

“The crowd is more relaxed. The ball travels differently, sometimes home runs are hit through that open space and land outside.” Shin grinned. “Fun for the kids.”

Britt couldn’t help but smile back. “What kind of a workout do you have planned for these guys today? Is this optional?”

“These players need extra batting practice. Not optional, but I will go easy on them. Would you like to see?”

“Yes, please. Could we also have a tour of their dormitory?” Britt asked.

Shin nodded, glancing over Britt’s shoulder. “Here’s Caleb now. I think he should show you where he lives. He’s an excellent tour guide.”

Her pen fell from her fingers. She kneeled to retrieve it and found herself nose to nose with Caleb, his hand brushing hers as they both reached for the pen.

“I got it,” she said.

“Here you go,” he said at the exact same time.

Her heart fluttered as she stared at the blue dry-fit shirt molded to his defined chest.

She stood up, clearing her throat and looking everywhere but at him. “I—I think we could see it, uh, later. I mean, if you’re busy now. There’s plenty to cover here.”

“It won’t take long. I can have you back here in time to see the end of BP,” Caleb said.

“Why don’t you scope it out and decide from there?” Paul suggested. “It’s not like we can come back tomorrow if we miss something. It’s better to play it safe.”

That’s what I’m trying to do!
Britt wanted to scream. Instead she shrugged. “Fine. Let’s see the dorm.”

Caleb led the way back toward the door, pushing it open and holding it until she followed him into the warm spring sunshine. He flashed a smile that made her pulse stutter, but she vowed to play it cool.

He tipped his head back and stared at the sky. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Britt shrugged, tapping the end of her pen against her notepad. “I hadn’t really noticed.”

He glanced at the pen and then at her. “For real? You didn’t feel a giant weight lift from your shoulders when you stepped off the train?”

Britt glanced at the red brick train station nearby. “Not really.”

“I feel like I can finally take a deep breath when I’m here. Tokyo is so intense and chaotic. All the incessant noise and neon lights—feels like those buildings are closing in.”

“So you enjoy living here in Tokorozawa?”

“It’s growing on me.”

“Do you think you’ll stay?”

He studied her, those brown eyes roaming over her face. She tried not to squirm under his probing gaze. “Off the record?”

“No, all of this is on the record. I’m a sportscaster, remember?”

“How could I forget? I thought maybe this was unofficial—no cameras or mics.”

“We’re doing one of those in-depth stories you’re so fond of. The daily life of an American playing baseball in Japan.”

“Sounds scintillating.”

She ignored the sarcasm and checked the time. “Seriously, let’s get moving. Where’s this dorm of yours and why do you live there?”

“What’s the rush? Got a hot date?” He fisted his hands on his hips.

“As a matter of fact, I do. With my luggage. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Wait. Tomorrow? I thought—we had more time.”

Maybe she should’ve broken the news gently. “Joe Caswell has meningitis, not the stomach flu, which means I’m probably covering Opening Day in California next week. Marne promised me I could spend Easter with my family.”

“Right.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He turned down the asphalt path that circled the dome. “The dorm’s this way.”

“Caleb, wait.” She jogged to catch up, tucking her notepad against her chest. Falling in step beside him, she touched his arm. “Why do you say it’s nothing when you’re obviously annoyed?”

His eyes flitted to her hand on his arm but he stepped around her and kept walking.

Oh brother
. She did not have time for one of his tantrums. “If you’re going to ignore me, this interview is going to be a little difficult.”

He stopped and whirled around, his nostrils flaring. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like nothing’s going on between us?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I’m not pretending.”

He closed the distance between them in three quick strides. “But you’re acting like that kiss meant nothing.”

The memory of his lips on hers made her heart pound a little harder and she fumbled her words. “I— I didn’t say anything about the kiss. I’m—”

“But you’re still leaving tomorrow?”

She sighed. “Look, I get it. The timing stinks. I didn’t know Joe was going to get sick and screw up our whole itinerary. But can we please talk about this later? I’m on a tight deadline.”

He stepped back, nodding. “Absolutely. I’d hate to keep you from your work.”

His words stung, like icy drops of freezing rain on a bleak winter’s day. “Please don’t do this. You have to separate your personal problems from your professional life when you’re on the mound, right?”

“So now I’m a personal problem? Great.” He stormed off in the direction of a four-story cement building flanked by more flowering cherry trees.

“You’re exasperating, is what you are,” she called after him.
For the love of Pete, make up your mind.
She’d convinced herself in the wee hours of the morning to give up on the idea of a relationship with Caleb. Because, really, who started something that seemed destined to fail from the beginning?

He whirled around, palm flattened against his chest. “
I’m
exasperating? Who just said an interview was more important than a relationship?”

“That’s not what I said,” she growled.

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, let’s.” She followed him to the front door, her gut churning. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend her last afternoon. But she had a job to do. Why couldn’t he understand?

He punched a code into a key pad on the wall.

“You have a secure entrance?”

“Keeps the crazed fans out.” The lock clicked and he opened the door without looking back.

“Oh.”

“Down here we have a basic kitchen, a bathroom and a lounge with a TV and an Xbox. There’s foosball and a ping pong table, too.” Caleb checked off the amenities, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you play?” She surveyed the quiet lounge, envisioning spirited competitions between the players when they weren’t on the baseball field or in meetings.

“Ping pong?” Caleb shrugged. “I can hold my own. Why?”

“Just wondered. It seems like communal living breeds competition.”

“You’re right. There’s informal tournaments and stuff going on whenever we can.”

“Well, good. At least I got one thing right today.” She scribbled a few more notes and a reminder for Paul to get some footage of the lounge. “Does everyone live here?”

“Only the single guys. Married players are allowed to live with their families, obviously. Aaron and Heather rent a condo not far from here.”

“This would never fly in the Major League.” She whipped out her phone and snapped a couple of shots. Her brothers would get such a kick out of this set-up.

“Probably not.” He waited while she took another picture. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you my room.”

She smiled at the double-meaning underlying his words and deposited her phone back inside her bag. “Wow, that’s quite the invitation. You sure know how to keep a girl guessing, don’t you?”

He narrowed his gaze. “I can’t show you anyone else’s room but my own. The other guys aren’t here.”

“It’s a good thing I trust you, then, isn’t it?”

“Follow me.”

Britt climbed the two flights of stairs at a safe distance, the heels of her boots clicking on the linoleum. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, and the off-white walls were free from marks or blemishes. “It’s so clean.”

“There’s a small staff that handles that. We each have two chores we’re responsible for and that rotates from week to week.”

Britt stopped on the top stair. “You’re kidding. Chores? Isn’t baseball your job?”

“Yes, but it’s for the good of the order. All for one, one for all.” Caleb stopped at the first door and put a key in the lock.

She had to write that down.
Chores.
Imagine the blowback on American baseball teams if they were assigned housing and required to help keep it clean?

“Knock, knock.” Caleb twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

“What’s up?” Ben sat in an overstuffed chair in the corner, looking like he’d just stepped off the golf course.

“Hey, Ben. I didn’t know you were here.”

Ben stood up and stretched. “Hi, Britt. Yep, just seeing the sights in Tokorozawa. What are you up to?”

“We’re here for a tour of the players’ dorm and getting some shots of the Seibu Dome.”

Ben cut his gaze toward Caleb. “Is that right?”

Caleb shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms over his chest. An awkward silence hung between them.

“Well, don’t let me interfere. I think I’ll wander down to the lake and maybe give Lisa a call.” Ben moved toward the door.

“The lake?” Britt asked.

“There’s a lake and an indoor ski slope not too far from the golf course. Get your tour guide here to give you the scoop.” Ben winked and slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Caleb uncrossed his arms and cleared his throat. “So here it is. Home sweet home.”

Britt took in the navy and white striped duvet cover on the double bed, the bedside table which held only a small lamp. A tall chest of drawers stood opposite the bed. Two framed photographs claimed space on the otherwise empty surface. An oval mirror hung above the dresser, while three shelves filled the wall between what she assumed was a closet and the bathroom. Books, another picture frame, and a replica of the Liberty Bell sat on the shelves.

“Are you a reader?” Britt moved closer and read the spines, all lined up in descending order from tallest to smallest.
The Seven Habits Of Highly Effective People, Cobb, Ball Four, The Boys of Summer, Bang the Drum Slowly,
and
The Message.

“Most of my books are on my phone or iPad now, but those are a few of my favorites.”

“All baseball, with a little personal development and a modern translation of the Bible thrown in.” Britt smiled over her shoulder. “Is your faith important to you?”

“Used to be. I’m not so sure anymore.”

She studied him. “You’re not sure if it’s important or you’ve discarded it completely?”

He frowned. “Church was a priority growing up. My parents made sure we had a solid foundation. But gradually baseball took over.” He stared out the window. “I guess you could say me and God had a falling out after Amanda died.”

Britt nodded. She could definitely relate. She’d let all kinds of things come between her and her relationship with the Lord, particularly her resentment over the loss of her mother. Sensing now wasn’t the time for a spiritual pep talk, she turned back toward the shelf and ran her finger over the Liberty Bell. “What’s the story here?”

Caleb didn’t answer and she stole another glance at him. He sank onto the end of his bed. “It’s a reminder of the sweet spot, a time in my life when everything was going my way.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Every boy who plays Little League makes up scenarios in his head … where he’s the hero who saves the game.” Caleb raked a hand through his hair. “I’m one of the lucky ones. My boyhood dream came true. For a little while, all was right with the world.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

He bit his lip and stared at the bell. “I was on the mound in Philly, one great pitch away from winning the World Series. My whole family was there, which hadn’t happened since I was in high school. Amanda flew in for the game. After we won, we celebrated for hours. Days, actually.”

“I bet that was incredible.”

“The time of my life. I bought that bell when my family was touring Philadelphia, a souvenir that is equal parts sentimental and painful.”

Britt sat on the edge of the chair Ben had vacated, pen poised over her notepad. “What’s painful about that memory for you?”

“A week later, my world fell apart.”

Empathy flooded through her.
Poor guy.
“Is this about Amanda?”

Caleb nodded, picking at a loose thread on the duvet cover.

“We don’t have to—”

“No.” Caleb’s head shot up, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I want you to hear this.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe if you hear the truth, you’ll understand why I behave the way I do.”

Her scalp prickled. “The truth?”

“Ben and I played golf earlier today. He said a few things that really got under my skin. As usual. But he’s right. I’m done keeping a secret that benefits three of the most self-absorbed people I’ve ever met, one of which is dead.”