“This isAmerica.”
Henry gave him a sideways glance. “What, are you angling to teach geography next?”
Smartass. “They can’t do the beautiful game like this, Henry.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re within their constitutional rights to be bad at baseball.” There was a beat. After a moment Henry said, “Couple years ago the school started a lacrosse program. It’s popular. Season runs at the same time as baseball.”
“So all the athletic kids went out for that instead,” Ty extrapolated. Henry nodded. “So why evenhavea baseball team?”
Henry gave him a look. “This isAmerica.”
Fine. Ty probably deserved that. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When’s the season start?”
“First game is Friday.”
So they had four days to teach these kids enough skills that they didn’t die of embarrassment. Ty took a deep breath. “Okay, then. We’d better get started.”
Ty was good with kids. His team back in Chicago said it was because he was one himself, but really kids were just easy to like, easy to understand and get along with. All you had to do was talk to them, show an interest in things they liked, listen thoughtfully to what they said. Treat them like people.
Teenagers were not like kids. Teenagers were like aliens. Ty did his best, but having been an alien in the past did not prepare him to deal with them now.
Dustin and Butch—who was all of five foot three and maybe a hundred and ten pounds sopping wet; Ty couldn’t make this up—were supposed to be practicing fielding grounders, but they could barely be torn away from their conversation about a girl named Lila. Danny was so distracted looking at the clouds he almost got beaned by a pop fly, and only Ty shouting “Heads up!” at the top of his lungs saved him from a concussion.
He didn’t catch the fly ball either.
And then there was Jeremy, their aspiring catcher, who took one look at the mask and took an actual step backward. “I’m not wearing that.”
Somehow Henry managed to answer without pinching the bridge of his nose. One day Ty was going to figure out how he did it. “You are if you want to play. League rules. Sorry.”
“Coach.” Jeremy lifted the mask by its strap with one finger. “It’s giving Hannibal Lecter.”
Never mind—now Henrydidpinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m way too young to feel this damn old.”
Ty turned his laugh into a cough that might’ve fooled the kids but didn’t get past Henry, who skewered him with a knowing glare.
By the time practice finished, Ty was reasonably certain the kids at least knew therulesof baseball. He was less convinced they would follow them. When the last of the kids’ parents left the parking lot, Ty heaved out a breath and asked Henry, “Do high school games have a mercy rule?”
“Nope.”
Jesus.
“You want to come over for a beer?”
“Absolutely.”
A beerturned out to come with homemade burgers on the grill and a garden salad in every color of the rainbow. Ty kept Henry company while he cooked, and they made small talk about the goings-on around town. It was nice—normal, like what Ty might’ve done with his coworkers back in Chicago, except none of them had a backyard this big.
“So,” Henry said when they’d loaded up the dishwasher and Eliza had excused herself to go watch her guilty pleasure TV show, “this is the part where I admit to ulterior motives.”
“I already signed up for free labor.” Ty finished off his beer and set it on the table. “Schedule’s still wide open.” He’d gotten as far as filing for bereavement leave, so at least he’d have a job to go back to when he returned to Chicago… theoretically. Assuming it got approved and could be extended more or less indefinitely.
Henry set down the bottle of beer he’d been nursing all night. Ty wondered if he even liked the taste or if he kept it on hand as a social expectation. “Thing is,” he said, “you remember I told you about Margie?”
“The lady with the cryptic pregnancy?” Ty said. “Yeah, Coach, we were just talking about her five minutes ago. My memory’s not that short.” Besides, cryptic pregnancies fascinated him. All those people who didn’t realize they were expecting until all of a sudden they were in labor? So cool. From a medical perspective, anyway. From a personal standpoint, Ty was pretty glad he didn’t have the equipment for it. And from a professional standpoint, helping someone deliver a baby they didn’t know they were having was kind of a lot.
Henry nodded. “Yeah. So anyway, she’s a part-time teacher. Elementary school health.”
The past few years had made Ty a little cynical. “Wow, this state allows elementary school health classes?”
