What These Eyes Have Seen: Short Stories

By McKamie Wilson

In this collection of fourteen short stories, you will meet people you know in your own family or from down the street where you live. They all find themselves involved in things they did not expect or want or even dream about. In one story, savor the moment as a son watches his traveling-salesman father create a unique exchange for sandwiches and cokes. In another story, a volunteer soccer coach/dad receives a compliment that makes him reflect on his life. In other stories, you will watch a son find a way to shape his own life, a major league catcher who may finally get caught, two stories about soldiers who discover that the end result of a firefight is not always as it appears on the silver screen, and another story about a soldier who passes along his family’s perfect use for eggs. Then there is the killer with a soft spot. You didn’t know he was out there, did you? As you read these stories, you may smile, you may get angry, you may shed a tear, but one thing is for certain, you will remember these characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647507336

McKamie Wilson

McKamie Wilson has been writing stories for sixty years. Born in Biloxi, Mississippi, he grew up in Decatur, Georgia, a small town northeast of Atlanta. He dropped out of Emory University after his first year to volunteer for two tours in Southeast Asia. As he says, “It was both the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. It’s where I learned that universal truth: lucky beats smart.” After retiring as a computer consultant, he focused on his storytelling. He lives with his partner, Charlotte, in Powhatan, Virginia. He enjoys hiking, photography, and baseball.

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About the Author

McKamie Wilson has been writing stories for sixty years. Born in Biloxi, Mississippi, he grew up in Decatur, Georgia, a small town northeast of Atlanta. He dropped out of Emory University after his first year to volunteer for two tours in Southeast Asia. As he says, It was both the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. It’s where I learned that universal truth: lucky beats smart.

After retiring as a computer consultant, he focused on his storytelling. He lives with his partner Charlotte in Powhatan, Virginia. He enjoys hiking, photography, and baseball.

Dedication

To Charlotte who pulled when I needed pulling and pushed when I needed pushing.

To Glen who read every word with a professional’s eye and a sister’s gentle encouragement.

Thank you both.

Copyright Information ©

McKamie Wilson (2021)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Wilson, McKamie

What These Eyes Have Seen

ISBN 9781647507312 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781647507305 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781647507336 (ePub e-book)

ISBN 9781647507329 (Audiobook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021909704

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

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Acknowledgment

As you read this, I am sitting here wearing that silly grin that people get when they finally do something they always wanted to do. When writers write, they do it alone. When the work is finished they think, I did it myself! But that’s not the truth. The truth is that everybody they have ever met or talked to or listened to or watched shares in what they write. Every snippet of conversation, every nuanced turn of phrase, every facial expression, every sunrise and sunset, every rise and fall in an overheard sentence, every smile, every frown, and every tear plays a part in what writers put in their work. Thank you, life.

There are special folks along this journey who, often in curious and unexpected ways, encouraged me to take the chance, nudged me along, and gave me the lift I needed to write the first or the next sentence. My mother and father turned me into a voracious reader early on and that started it all. My high-school English teacher, Edna Cotton, gave me an unexpected chance to write for the school’s monthly newspaper. To be read by others was amazing. And there were family members and friends who read something I wrote, liked it, and said so; thank you to Cathy Viale, Connie Treloar, Mary Jane Staton, and Janye Guinn.

Thanks to everyone at Austin Macauley Publishers, LLC. You turned my banging on the computer’s keys into a real book, especially my production coordinator, who calmly guided me through this whole process.

I raise a belated but eternal thank you to Connie Wilson who was always by my side, my muse, and my first editor. I am so sorry you did not get to enjoy this ride with me.

Of course none of this would have happened without support from the two people I needed the most: Charlotte Scott is my partner and first reader and Glen Finland is my writing guide and constant shoulder to lean on. Thank you both.

Chapter 1

Just Lunch

Charlie Gallen paused in front of the restaurant window just to catch his breath. He wasn’t nervous, he decided, more like apprehensive. No, not even that, really. Anticipation? Yeah, that was closer. It was sort of like the feeling he got when he stepped out of the dugout onto the field before a game starts. In those moments between the National Anthem and the first pitch, when a thousand questions and doubts swirled through his brain, even his blood seemed to make a roaring noise as it rushed through his body. It always happened like that! And he always loved it. And it always vanished in that split second when the first pitch slapped into his glove. Kind of a rush, he thought. But, why now? After all, it’s just lunch.

It’s just lunch, he repeated to himself. Would she like him? Ahhh…come on, Charlie. Of course she would. How could she not? He was good looking; some would even call him handsome. His Celtiberian roots went back to Mexico, back to the Conquistadores, and farther back even to warrior tribes in pre-Roman times. He stood six-three, weighed a bit over two hundred pounds, had curly blonde hair, and deep blue eyes that seemed to glow with intense curiosity and wonder. At twenty-nine years old, he was one of the highest paid catchers in major league baseball and after next season, he would become a free agent. His knees were still good, his hands still strong, and his fingers still relatively straight—for a catcher—and unaffected by any hints of arthritis. The only injury he had ever had was a head-to-knee collision at home plate that nearly perfect night in Atlanta. The result was a concussion that had ended his season in the fourth game of the league championship and left him with a thick scar above his right eyebrow.

He could still remember the sweet smell of the thick summer air that night, touched with the odor of popcorn and cotton candy and the fresh cut grass and dusky red clay of the infield. God, he loved it! He could also remember the sounds of the crowd and the face of the runner who had tried to take him out. He could recall the explosive force of the impact as he had tensed and shifted his weight into Randell Hutson, the player coming at him from third base at full speed. Charlie remembered thinking at that point: HOLD THE BALL! And that was the end of his memory. For him, the rest was blank. But he had seen the pictures. The Internet, MLB TV, ESPN, all the national sports channels, and the newspapers were full of videos and photos from every angle. It seemed that the cameras had been everywhere. The play had been broadcast repeatedly along with the additional footage of him lying unconscious across home plate with Hutson kneeling beside him as the paramedics were prying the baseball out of Charlie’s tightly clinched right hand. He had held the ball.

Sports Illustrated ran a still shot of the collision under the headline: 20 BEATS 40, referring to the amount of money in the two player’s contracts. Charlie made twenty million a year and he had tagged out the forty-million-dollar runner to win the game. Hutson, who rarely missed an opportunity to smile for the cameras, had come to see Charlie in the hospital and to sign the baseball given to Charlie by the paramedic. Randell and Charlie quickly became fast friends. In the following weeks and months of Charlie’s recovery, Randell had been instrumental in helping Charlie get in shape, physically and mentally, for the next season. In fact, it was Randell who had set this lunch up.

But that much-talked-about collision was five years ago, well in the past for an active player. He knew he could play at this level for another four years, maybe even six, and then what? He had thought about it often enough. He had never really known anything but baseball, so when the time came to quit the big show, he knew he’d probably coach college ball until he dropped dead during infield drill, like his high school coach did at eighty-three. Charlie had it made…and it had been so easy. From Little League to high school and American Legion, on to college ball and then straight into the Major Leagues; it was all a magnificent blur.

So why was it so hard to find the right person to share his life? It just didn’t make sense that love and companionship and sharing his life with that perfect person would not come just as easily. He was one of the most eligible bachelors on this side of the Mississippi; money never was and never would be a problem (he had accountants for that), and he loved women. He grinned at himself in the restaurant window. You don’t drink, do you, Charlie boy. And you don’t smoke. And you don’t gamble. But you do have that one little vice that has probably killed more men than all the wars the world has ever known. You definitely like the taste of a woman.

He inhaled deeply and slowly let the breath out. It’s just lunch, he repeated again, pushing open the thick smoke-colored glass door. He was early and the restaurant was slowly gearing up for the lunch crowd. He saw one of the owners he knew from the dozens of times he had been here. He nodded in the owner’s direction and smiled. It was the legendary Charlie Gallen smile, the one seen on billboards all around town and on half the busses running up and down Freedom Avenue. It was the smile that was guaranteed to warm the cockles of women’s hearts, and men’s too, if need be. Whatever cockles were.

Hey, Josh, Charlie said, turning the voltage up on his smile. Your sister’s husband moved out yet?

Naw, Josh said, pushing away from the restaurant’s long oak wood bar and walking in Charlie’s direction. But she ain’t seen him for a couple months if you’re interested.

Charlie had gone out with Josh’s sister Sarah several times. She was cute, had a terrific sense of humor, and fit right in with Charlie’s crowd. They had some good times, but Charlie couldn’t get past the fact that Sarah was still married to a state’s attorney, even if they were separated at the time.

I’m always interested, but the old guy’s got to be outta the picture first, Charlie said. I got no room for surprises, if you know what I mean. Especially surprises from sharks.

I hear that. Don’t nobody want surprises like that, Josh said shaking his head. But I’ll tell her you asked after her. She still likes you. Then, coming up close to Charlie and putting a hand on his shoulder, Josh leaned in to whisper in Charlie’s ear. Josh was in his mid-forties, very tall and very thin, and he had one of those close-cropped beards that looked like he hadn’t shaved since yesterday. It was very dark but patchy along the line of his angular jaw and it made him look older than he was. Charlie felt the stiff hairs of Josh’s beard touch his ear.

There’s a lady back there in your booth, Charlie.

My lucky day, Charlie said unable to turn his head toward the back of the restaurant because of Josh’s closeness. Randell had told him she was nice, but had refused to give Charlie any more information no matter how hard Charlie had pressed him. Just trust me, Randell had said from his hotel room in Tampa. Charlie had thought he heard an evil grin coming from Randell’s end of the phone.

Charlie, this ain’t one of your usual Park Avenue Princesses, Josh whispered. This here is a real lady. She’s different. I have seen her in here once before but she never looked like this!

Well, maybe it really is my lucky day! Charlie’s Hollywood-white teeth seemed to glow.

Josh pulled away from Charlie slightly, but remained close to Charlie’s face, way inside Charlie’s comfort-zone. There was a mocking seriousness in his eyes, Charlie saw. And there was something else in there too. Was it concern or was it Josh being his usual jokester self? This one here’s got teeth. And I should know. I been married three times.

What? Charlie said.

She got teeth! You’ll see. She got teeth. She’ll eat you alive! Josh pulled completely away from Charlie and turned back toward the bar. She got teeth, Charlie, Josh mumbled, more to himself than to Charlie. He shook his head walking away. You ain’t no match for this one, big man. You better hide, for sure…for sure.

That was