Page 6 of Until Delilah

“That sounds like a wonderful idea while I help clean up the lovely dinner Mrs. Black made for us.” Delilah’s eyes land on me and she mouths thank you.

I nod to her as I stand. Beckham is already up and out of his seat. He certainly has a lot of energy for a seven-year-old. Not that I’m around many to know the difference.

Holding open the door for my new friend, I let him pass before I head around to the back of the garage to grab the baseball gear my dad always keeps on hand for when I’m here.

The moment I step outside the garage with a couple of gloves, a ball, and a bat, I see the love this kid has for baseball. It brings me back to when I was his age and my love for the sport. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d make a career out of it. That’s why I started the program at the elementary school and chose to coach one of the little league teams. I want to give everyone a chance at their dream like I had.

We start slowly tossing the ball back and forth to get warmed up and I gradually move back, creating distance between us and increasing my speed to see what the kid has. He’s good. Damn good going by the pitches I’m hurling at him. I’m not giving him my fastball, but I’ve had kids ten years older than him not be able to handle the pitches I’m giving him.

“Do you want to hit the ball some?” I call as I start back to him. He nods enthusiastically and runs over to grab the bat we left by the side of the garage.

“Are you planning on joining the school program or thinking about joining a little league team?” I ask as I come up beside him to check his stance. For being so young, he’s got it almost perfect. My gut’s telling me he’s going to go pro one day.

“Do you mind if I show you a better way to stand? It will give you more force when hitting the ball.” I ask because I don’t want him freaking out when I touch him. I’m not sure what’s appropriate or how he’ll react. I’m also not sure if whoever put the bruise and split lip on Delilah, hit him as well.

He moves closer, signaling for me to show him. I only give him a few minor tweaks before he’s standing in front of me perfectly. Did his dad coach him?

I don’t think Delilah’s married. Earlier at dinner, I didn’t notice a ring on her finger. Was he who gave her the black eye and split lip? Fury courses through me thinking about a man hitting her.

“Did your dad teach you how to play baseball?” I ask as I start to move back so I can pitch him the ball.

Beckham breaks his stance looking down at his feet for only a second and when he looks back up at me, his eyes are sad and older than any seven-year-old’s should ever look.

“My dad died when I was a baby. Last year my mom signed me up to play Little League back… that’s where I learned.” He swings the bat, and I can tell he’s impatient for me to throw the ball.

If his dad’s dead, who the hell beat up his mom?

I know I can’t ask any more questions tonight though. Even though he’s a sweet kid, I see that he’ll start to shut down if I ask too many questions. Instead, I have fun with him. It feels good to not worry about my shoulder and just play for the love of the game.

Twenty minutes later, Delilah steps outside with my dad and mom. They’d been watching us from inside, and I knew my time with him was coming to a close.

Delilah steps out into the yard and starts toward her son. “Beck, sweetheart, we need to go.” His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t protest. He simply gathers the glove he used earlier and places it on the table before he walks up to me with his mom coming in behind him.

He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Thank you, Mr. Black. That was a dream come true.”

Damn, this kid is awesome. “You’re very welcome. You don’t need to call me Mr. Black, though. You can just call me Max.”

He looks to his mom to see if it’s okay with her, and she nods.

“I think you made his whole year if not more, so thank you. I know it really means a lot to Beck.”

“Can I talk to you over here for a second before you leave?” She nods and her eyes dart to her son. I place my hand on her lower back, and she freezes, her entire body tensing for a moment before she moves off to the side and out of my reach.

I don’t know if I should address the issue of me touching her or not, but when she stands there as if nothing happened, I shake it off.

“I’m not sure how much you know about baseball, but your son has real talent. I know my mom talked to you about him maybe joining the after-school program or the Little League team. While I don’t know your circumstances, I think it would be extremely beneficial for Beckham to join the Little League team I coach.”

“Um… I don’t know.” She looks off into the distance. “We’re new and all, and I don’t really know my way around town.”

“That’s okay. It’s easy to find your way around. We meet up at the school to practice one day a week, although I’m thinking of making it two, and then there’s usually two games on the weekends. It’s at the park near the school, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

She twists her lips and then looks back to her son. “The thing is, I’m looking for a job and I don’t know what my hours will be like. Will he get in trouble if he can’t come to a game?”

“No, of course not, but I’m sure someone would be happy to take him if you can’t bring him. I’ll do it if there’s ever a time you can’t bring him.”

I remember the days when it was only dad, Mitchell, and I, and I don’t know how we would have got to our after-school sports or anything else we did if it weren’t for my grandma and aunts picking us up and taking us where we needed to be while dad worked.

“Beck would love it, and I’d like him to be able to make some friends here. He’s missing his friends from back home terribly.”

---