Chapter Twelve
It ain’t the heat,
it’s the humility.
— Yogi Berra
They were barely buckled into their seats, the small jet taxing out to the runway, when Keely started in on him. She thought she’d shown remarkable restraint until then, but now she needed to know everything.
“What did Jimmy say? Did he get the order keeping Candy in Pennsylvania? How about a restraining order on Joey? I know that would be pushing it, considering the fact that you’ve actually invited the man to stay at the house, but did Jimmy even think of it? And what about—”
“I think I liked the silent ride to the airport better,” Jack told her, bracing his hands on the armrests as the jet lifted off the tarmac. “Oh, damn. I hate small planes. Damn Mort. He knows I hate small planes.”
“Really? I think this is great. Flying coach, now that I hate.” Keely looked out the window as the ground fell away beneath them, then grinned at Jack. “You’re white as a ghost. I don’t believe it. You flew all over the country when you were with the Yankees.”
“Yeah, in real planes, not tin cans. Jim Croce, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper. The list goes on and on. Celebrity, small plane, small plane crash. You’d think people would have learned by now.” Then he yawned. “But I’ll be okay. I downed airsickness pills right before we left. They make me sleepy enough that I probably won’t start screaming and kicking, demanding they land the plane.”
“Oh. Good,” Keely said, trying not to laugh. She looked over at him. Back stiff, head pressed against the headrest, hands, white-knuckled, gripping the armrests. “I can see how well the pill’s working so far. Should we join our hands in prayer, or do you think we can talk about Candy?”
He turned his head toward her. “Not funny. Everybody’s got a phobia of some sort. I’ll bet you can’t stand mice.”
“Actually, I had one as a pet when I was a kid,” Keely told him, accepting a glass of orange juice from the steward. “Aunt Mary didn’t want the responsibility of a cat or a dog. He was white, with the cutest little pink nose. I called him Mr. Squiggles. I really loved that mouse.”
“I’m happy for you,” Jack told her, tight-lipped. “Now, do you want to hear what Jimmy had to say, or can I just move to another seat before I choke you?”
“Sorry,” Keely apologized, not sorry at all. At least the man was no longer holding on to the armrests as if, if he let go, the whole plane would fall from the sky. “Please tell me what he said.”
Jack shifted in his seat. “Not much, unfortunately. What he did say is that he has no choice now but to make this all official. Inform the local child welfare authorities, stuff like that. We’ll be assigned a case worker, probably as early as Monday.”
“And that’s not good news?” Keely was pretty sure of his answer but had to ask.
“Not really. This is no longer Cecily dropping Candy off for me to baby-sit her for a few days. Now it’s official, like she is guilty of abandonment. After all, if Candy wasn’t abandoned, if I were just baby-sitting, then I wouldn’t be going for custody, right? Bottom line, the case worker might decide to place Candy in some foster home while Joey and I fight this whole thing out in court.”
“No!” Keely sat up straight, her heart pounding. “They can’t do that. Candy belongs with us—you. Jack?”
He reached over, took her hand. “Relax. Jimmy says it’s only one possibility. If we can show the child welfare people that Candy’s in a good, safe environment, well taken care of, then we’ve got a pretty good shot at retaining physical custody, at least for now. Damn, I wish Joey were dead broke instead of sitting on that cushy trust fund, because then he’d jump at my offer if I tried to pay him to make him go away. Because he doesn’t want Candy. He just doesn’t want me to have Candy.”
Keely blinked back tears, tears born of fear and her frustration at not being able to do anything to help. “You are going to keep fighting, though, aren’t you?”
Jack nodded, even as he yawned again. “I never give up without a fight, Keely.”
She knew what he meant. “Baseball. You didn’t give that up without a fight.”
He smiled, a sad smile, and rubbed at his forehead. “Baseball. God, that seems like two lifetimes ago. And not very important, to tell you the truth. But Candy?” He shook his head. “This is different. If anyone had told me, even a couple of weeks ago, that I’d care this little about baseball, or this much about one small, goofy little kid...”
“You love her, don’t you?” Keely asked quietly. “This isn’t just because Cecily asked you to take care of her, or to make Joey mad, or even because you’ve got nothing better to do and need something to take your mind off having to retire. You really love her. You’d do anything and everything it took to keep her.”
Jack’s eyelids looked heavy, and he was already near sleep. “Yes, I would. Anything,” he said around another yawn. “Damn, maybe I should have followed the directions and only taken one Keely, would you mind if we didn’t talk for a while? I’m really tired.”
Anything? He’d do anything? Is that what she was to him, a convenient anything? Is that why she was on this plane? How far would he go? Would he even make love to her, pretend to want her, even love her, in order to present that solid home life that would gain him custody of Candy?
“Sure, Jack,” Keely said, blinking back tears, watching as the steward handed Jack a pillow and a blanket. “You just sleep,” she said, turning to look out the window, “while I try to figure out why I shouldn’t be screaming for a parachute.”