Page 10 of The Curve
* * *
Of courseI’m sorry Atticus broke his clavicle. What kind of a woman would I be to think otherwise? Except it’s such an enjoyable day I can’t deny his injury has worked in my favor. While the kids are occupied with a once-in-a-lifetime baseball game with their favorite players, he and I sit together in the sun. We’re on the low comfy chairs he was sweet enough to think to bring.
The picnic basket he pulled from his trunk was a surprise. Even though there’re barbecues lining the open field and tables of food provided, Atticus said he wanted something better. He raided his mother’s refrigerator for what’s proved to be the best finger food I’ve ever eaten.
The rolling, grassy hill leading down to the field and the groves of Pecan trees that surround three sides provides a beautiful backdrop. He chose a spot for us that isn’t easily seen by the crowd. Not the kids running around the open field or the adults watching. We can see it all, but they can’t see us.
“Looks like Mallory’s having fun,” he says offering me another bite of his grandmother’s fudge.
I can tell he’s enjoying me savoring his family’s cooking. A small sound escapes my lips as the fudge melts on my tongue. The look I get from him and the tensing of his jaw makes me want to rip his clothes off and lay on top of him.Stop it!
Returning my attention to the game, I watch as she guards second base. The Maverick second baseman stands to her right, and they’re having a conversation while the batter walks to the plate. I turn to Atticus.
“You have no idea how much today means to us both. That girl there…” I say pointing to a laughing Mallory, “…I haven’t seen for a long while.”
His eyes on Mallory. “Because of the burn?”
“That and more.”
“Where’s Mr. …” The corner of his mouth lifts. “I don’t know your last name.”
God with that smile I’d spill state secrets. “Bay. Charlotte Bay. And he wasn’t my husband. Mallory’s father is deceased.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago.”
“It must have been hard on both of you.”
“Mallory never knew him.”
He looks surprised at the comment. “Why’s that?”
I take a beat before I decide to continue. What the hell do I care if he knows the real me? There’s no reason to hide my past, I’m not ashamed. And he’s going to forget it all in a day or two anyway.
“I was seventeen when I met Will. Let’s just say I let my heart make the decision I should have used my head for. Or maybe it was something south of that.”
“That’s pretty common at seventeen,” he says.
“True. But my choice had unintended consequences. I became pregnant in my senior year. The day he found out I was pregnant and keeping the baby he said he wanted nothing to do with us and took off with his friends. That was the last I saw him.”
“What a prick,” he says with disgust.
“He was just too young. He was a child himself.”
“That’s kind of you. Really kind. But how did he die?”
“He and his friend got drunk that night and hit another car.”
He lets that sink in for a moment. It kind of feels freeing to tell my story. I haven’t in a long time.
“Does Mallory know the circumstances?”
“Not everything. She knows that we weren’t married. I’ve showed her a picture in the yearbook because in this age of computers I knew she’d go digging. But I left out the part that he ever knew or had a bad reaction.”
His nod tells me he agrees with my decision.
“I told her he died in an accident before I had a chance to tell him I was pregnant. That way she’s been able to keep a positive picture of him in her mind. I don’t want her to ever know the details.”
