spit.
“What?”
“The next one’s going to be on the outside corner.”
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 49
49
“Come on, Eli!” It was the pitcher. He was about the same age as Jake, with the same ruddy features, but with a good fifty pounds less bulk. “That ain’t fair.”
Eli chuckled. “Throw what you want, Robert. I’m just trying to even the odds a little for big brother here.” Turning back to Jake he repeated, “Watch for the high lob, outside corner.”
Jake scowled and took a couple more practice swings.
“But he knows you told me.”
Eli shrugged. “It’s your choice. I’m just making a suggestion.”
Jake looked back at Eli again, obviously sizing him up.
Then, turning, he gripped the bat, crouched down, and got ready to swing.
Up on the mound Robert turned the ball around and around in his glove. Then he rolled his head and squinted at the plate. Apparently this was all part of his pitching ritual—
more for superstition and luck than expertise and concentration.
“Come on, Jake!” one of the kids from his team cried. “Lay into it! Rip a good one!”
Conrad watched. Obviously, no one knew for certain what Robert would throw to his brother. Still, given Jake’s batting average and the amount of muscle and flesh that he had to move, the big guy needed all the help he could get. But the fact that Eli had broadcast it for everyone to hear made an outside lob anything but likely. Or did it?
After finishing his ritual, Robert finally tossed the first pitch of the game.
Anticipating an outside corner lob, Jake stepped forward.
He guessed correctly. He took a hefty swing, grunting like a wounded beast, and to everyone’s astonishment, he connected.
The bat cracked and the ball sailed high into the sun.
His teammates clapped and cheered. So did those in the bleachers. So did Eli.
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 50
50
And Jake? Jake stood, absolutely mesmerized, watching the ball slowly arch over the right field fence and roll to a stop in the farmer’s field.
“Run, Jake!” a boy on his team cried. Others joined in.
“Run, Jake! Run!”
But Jake did not run. Instead, he turned to Eli who continued to watch and grin from behind the backstop.
“Run!” By now his entire team was shouting. “Run, Jake!”
Realizing he still held the bat, Jake dropped it to the ground. It rang with a metallic clunk. But instead of heading for first, he started toward the backstop.
“Run, Jake!” By now the crowd had taken up the cheer.
“Run!”
But Jake did not hear. Instead, the big man lumbered around the backstop. Eli met him, laughing and slapping him on the back—until Jake threw his arms around him in a monstrous, life-threatening hug. By now everyone was laughing and cheering. Even the other team. Even Conrad. Because, whatever gift Eli may or may not have, and regardless of his seriousness of purpose . . . there was a playfulness about him.
A love that was contagious.
v
“Dad, you promised. Daddy . . .”
The nurse had been kind enough to track down something for Julia to eat . . . a little toast and some orange juice. Her head had quit spinning, and now she sat all alone in the room, just her and her father. Eventually, she knew, they would ask her permission to pull the plug. What legal procedure they would follow, she hadn’t the foggiest. But that was okay. Right now there was only the rhythmic hiss of the respirator, the green glow of the monitors above him . . . and her memories.
“Sweetheart, not now, I’m expecting a very important guest to be coming over.”
“But you said I could. You promised.”
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 51
51
He looked so small in the bed with its crisp, white sheets.
So lost and vulnerable. The thick, hairy arms—“ape-man”
arms she used to tease him—the ones that had carried her, had wrapped around her in the backyard hammock, protected her during scary movies . . . now they lay unmoving with IV
needles stuck in and
“What?”
“The next one’s going to be on the outside corner.”
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 49
49
“Come on, Eli!” It was the pitcher. He was about the same age as Jake, with the same ruddy features, but with a good fifty pounds less bulk. “That ain’t fair.”
Eli chuckled. “Throw what you want, Robert. I’m just trying to even the odds a little for big brother here.” Turning back to Jake he repeated, “Watch for the high lob, outside corner.”
Jake scowled and took a couple more practice swings.
“But he knows you told me.”
Eli shrugged. “It’s your choice. I’m just making a suggestion.”
Jake looked back at Eli again, obviously sizing him up.
Then, turning, he gripped the bat, crouched down, and got ready to swing.
Up on the mound Robert turned the ball around and around in his glove. Then he rolled his head and squinted at the plate. Apparently this was all part of his pitching ritual—
more for superstition and luck than expertise and concentration.
“Come on, Jake!” one of the kids from his team cried. “Lay into it! Rip a good one!”
Conrad watched. Obviously, no one knew for certain what Robert would throw to his brother. Still, given Jake’s batting average and the amount of muscle and flesh that he had to move, the big guy needed all the help he could get. But the fact that Eli had broadcast it for everyone to hear made an outside lob anything but likely. Or did it?
After finishing his ritual, Robert finally tossed the first pitch of the game.
Anticipating an outside corner lob, Jake stepped forward.
He guessed correctly. He took a hefty swing, grunting like a wounded beast, and to everyone’s astonishment, he connected.
The bat cracked and the ball sailed high into the sun.
His teammates clapped and cheered. So did those in the bleachers. So did Eli.
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 50
50
And Jake? Jake stood, absolutely mesmerized, watching the ball slowly arch over the right field fence and roll to a stop in the farmer’s field.
“Run, Jake!” a boy on his team cried. Others joined in.
“Run, Jake! Run!”
But Jake did not run. Instead, he turned to Eli who continued to watch and grin from behind the backstop.
“Run!” By now his entire team was shouting. “Run, Jake!”
Realizing he still held the bat, Jake dropped it to the ground. It rang with a metallic clunk. But instead of heading for first, he started toward the backstop.
“Run, Jake!” By now the crowd had taken up the cheer.
“Run!”
But Jake did not hear. Instead, the big man lumbered around the backstop. Eli met him, laughing and slapping him on the back—until Jake threw his arms around him in a monstrous, life-threatening hug. By now everyone was laughing and cheering. Even the other team. Even Conrad. Because, whatever gift Eli may or may not have, and regardless of his seriousness of purpose . . . there was a playfulness about him.
A love that was contagious.
v
“Dad, you promised. Daddy . . .”
The nurse had been kind enough to track down something for Julia to eat . . . a little toast and some orange juice. Her head had quit spinning, and now she sat all alone in the room, just her and her father. Eventually, she knew, they would ask her permission to pull the plug. What legal procedure they would follow, she hadn’t the foggiest. But that was okay. Right now there was only the rhythmic hiss of the respirator, the green glow of the monitors above him . . . and her memories.
“Sweetheart, not now, I’m expecting a very important guest to be coming over.”
“But you said I could. You promised.”
hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 51
51
He looked so small in the bed with its crisp, white sheets.
So lost and vulnerable. The thick, hairy arms—“ape-man”
arms she used to tease him—the ones that had carried her, had wrapped around her in the backyard hammock, protected her during scary movies . . . now they lay unmoving with IV
needles stuck in and
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