The Shortstop's Redemption

By Joseph M. Orlando

There is no available information at this time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 5, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469106595

Joseph M. Orlando

Joe Orlando is a litigation attorney. Designated a “Proctor in Admiralty” by the Maritime Law Association, he has represented fishermen, blue water seamen, and other maritime workers for over thirty-seven years. Born in Gloucester, Massachusetts, Joe has spent his life on Cape Ann. Married to Connie for forty-one years, Joe is the father of three—Amanda, Lisa and Joe Jr.—and is the grandfather to six boys.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

All eyes were on him. He could feel it. Still, his decision was made. He had come home and home he would stay.

As casually as he could manage, he leaned on the chain-link fence down the leftfield line under the big oak tree. His eyes were riveted on the back of the twelve-year-old shortstop. As the youngster crouched in the ready position before each pitch, he saw the number eleven on his back. Between innings he had watched the boys trot on and off the field. The first hint was the graceful movements, so easy and smooth. Then he saw the jet-black curls and the blue eyes. Finally, the coach had called his name when he had made a good play.

Great play, Jamie, the coach had called.

‘Jamie,’ he thought, ‘not Jim or Jimmy.’ Mentally, he shrugged. There weren’t a lot of good memories for the youngster’s mother in those names. So, she called him Jamie.

A pop-up was hit down the leftfield line. The third baseman ran straight back and the leftfielder came across. ‘They won’t get it,’ he thought. Then he saw the shortstop streaking towards him. He was fast and sure as he ran directly at the fence and the thirty-six year old under the oak tree. Alarmed, he readied to call out when it appeared the boy would crash into the fence, but before he could speak, the youngster slid feet first, kept his focus, caught the ball, and popped up directly before him at the fence.

Their eyes met and the man found himself hoping; but, he saw no flicker of recognition in the boy’s eyes. The crowd of two hundred roared their approval as Jamie raced the ball back to the infield. Disappointment was ridiculous, he knew, but that’s what he felt.

He doesn’t know you, Jim.

The voice had him bounding off the fence and rising to his full six feet, three inches. Carol? was all he said.

She smiled wryly, Why are you surprised? I go to all of his games. She studied him. I’m all he has. He heard the accusation in her voice.

Jim nodded. I know. He paused to appraise the petite redhead with the luminous green eyes. You look good, Carol.

She ignored the compliment. A quick glance at him and she saw he still had the broad shoulders, slim waist and the rugged good looks. But, she noted, his eyes were different. Jim Cheverus’s eyes, the windows to the soul, had once gleamed with confidence and certainty. She re-called being lost in those deep blue eyes. Now, she saw a wariness. The confident, almost cocky, quirk of his mouth had been replaced by a grim determination. Carol knew Jim had fallen on hard times, but was surprised by the sadness, the disappointment she read in his eyes. She chased away the thought. What are you doing here, Jim?

He looked into her eyes, saw the confusion and the fear. I’m home, Carol. I’ve come home.

Her expression told him that she saw trouble behind that statement. Her eyes clouded with a mix of remembered pain and fear.

Can we talk, Carol?

Instinctively, her head shook but she saw his eyes and knew he meant what he said. She exhaled a deep sigh.

Not here. Jamie will be in bed by nine. Come to the house at 9:30.

She turned to walk back to the bleachers, knowing that the gossips already had plenty to chew on.

Carol?

Anger filled her as she spun back to face him. Don’t come early, she blurted. I don’t want Jamie meeting you until we’ve talked.

Okay, Jim nodded as he watched her turn and walk back to the bleachers packed with the moms, dads and siblings of the other players.

Carol threw a wave at Jamie who looked from his mother to the tall man at the fence. Again their eyes met and Jamie’s were narrowed in suspicion at the man who had upset his mother.

‘He already distrusts me,’ Jim thought. ‘Smart boy.’

CHAPTER TWO

Carol Harding sat with her father, Charles Harding, in the living room of their three-bedroom colonial in the village section of Manchester-by-the-Sea. The feisty fire chief held back nothing of his anger at Jim Cheverus.

How could you invite him to this house? He raged.

Carol managed a tight smile in the face of her Dad’s wrath. He’s Jamie’s father.

A blaze of anger shot through his eyes. Father, he snorted. He has no right to make any claims. He fought to keep his rage in check, not wanting to have Jamie wake at the sound of his voice. Chief Harding rose and stalked the small living room. Carol watched the short, powerfully built, sixty-year-old man, who had been father to both she and Jamie, redden.

Please don’t do this, Dad, she exhorted. I know how you feel about Jim. She paused to collect herself. I’m not happy he’s here either. But he’s here and he is Jamie’s father.

That bastard. Chief Harding spit the words.

Carol grew quiet. Then softly she said, That’s what they call Jamie.

Carol’s words stopped her Dad’s rage cold. Chief Harding nodded and eased himself into a chair. He glanced at Carol and met her eyes. He offered a smile that told Carol that he understood her dilemma, but one that told her he hadn’t forgotten the pain Jim Cheverus had visited on his family.

Chief Harding rested his head on the cushioned seat back and thought of his grandson, asleep in his bed. Jamie was the joy of his life. Then, his thoughts moved to Jim Cheverus and an old anger bubbled to the surface and he was back to a time, only thirteen years ago, when Jim Cheverus was Cape Ann’s biggest star and Carol was hopelessly enthralled with him.

She was nineteen years old and hadn’t received a call, letter or even a postcard for the entire baseball season. Jim was climbing in the Cardinal’s farm system, having played the season in AA ball, two steps from the major leagues. Ticketed for AAA the next season, he returned to Gloucester full of himself. Certain he was a year from the show, as he called it, Jim Cheverus was home a week before he called Carol, whom he had dated steadily the previous winter.

Afraid she would lose him, she submitted to his every demand. And, he played fast and loose with her heart.

When Jim left in February for Florida and spring training, she was pregnant and unmarried. He simply did not return her calls and pulled out of her life. In short, he left her to fend for herself.

Charles Harding remembered his daughter’s humiliation well. While he cherished Jamie, he burned with a hatred for Jamie’s father.

At 9:30 p.m. promptly, Jim Cheverus knocked on the door of Chief Harding’s house.

Carol opened the door at his first knock and led him to the living room. Jim didn’t kid himself that her quickness to answer was borne of eagerness to see him. No, he knew she wanted him off of the front porch and out of sight from the ever vigilant gaze of her neighbors. ‘One of the many charms of small town life,’ Jim thought wryly.

The living room was comfortably furnished. The floors were a glistening hardwood with a colorful oriental rug set between the overstuffed couch and chair. A stone fireplace set off the cream colored walls. ‘Homey,’ Jim thought. Jim’s eyes settled on Chief Harding, who stood by the fireplace. The Chief’s jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed.

Hello, Chief, Jim offered.

An almost imperceptible nod of the head was the Chief’s only response.

Please sit down, Jim, Carol said coolly. Dad, please sit and join us.

Carol turned to Jim. He has been father and provider to Jamie. And I would like him here.

Thus, his unasked question answered, Jim settled in.

Can I offer you a drink, Jim? Carol offered, with an icy courtesy.

Lemonade would be fine.

Dad?

I’ll have a bourbon.

Carol left to prepare the drinks.

I hear you’re on the wagon, the Chief stated directly.

Jim nodded and smiled. Yes, I’ve been sober for a year.

Should I applaud? the Chief asked with contempt.

Jim bit back his response. I didn’t come here to argue.

Just why are you here, Jim? Carol asked as she entered with a tray. And why now? She sat on the couch with her father and across the coffee table from Jim. She studied him as she sipped her glass of lemonade. She observed his discomfort and found herself enjoying watching him squirm under their gaze. Carol again noted how different was his demeanor. Those fiery blue eyes had lost their youthful cockiness. Still handsome, the set of the jaw and easy smile had been replaced by a reserve. Today, Jim Cheverus was certain of nothing. ‘He’s seen some hard times,’ she concluded.

Jim leaned forward in his chair and focused his eyes on Carol. Still petite, she had become more shapely and, he thought, more attractive than ever. Her green eyes shone at him, more curious now than afraid. She was, after all, on her turf with the Chief beside her.

Carol, I’m sorry for everything. He paused and choked. I hate what I did to you.

She fixed him with a cool stare. You hurt me bad, Jim. But I got Jamie. She hesitated. And after twelve years I’ve begun to live down the insults and slights. She sipped some lemonade. So, if you feel better now you can go on with your life.

He hadn’t thought he could feel worse than he had over his abandonment of Carol and his baby. Now, under their cutting glare, he felt cheaper than ever.

He swallowed. I deserve that… Jim didn’t get out the balance of his thought.

You deserve a lot worse than that, you scum, the Chief raged. They laughed at her and they pitied her. His face flushed in anger. Carol reddened at the outburst.

The Chief wasn’t finished. The mean ones called her a trollop, chasing a rising star. The kinder ones said nothing. They just ignored and avoided her.

Carol put her hand on her father’s arm. Dad, she said softly.

No, Carol, he has to hear it. He turned back to face Jim. The Chief’s eyes burned in fury. They called Jamie a bastard.

Jim winced. The pain just poured out of the Chief. His anger was justified, his love for Carol and Jamie evident.

The Chief rose and swallowed the last of his bourbon. I can’t look at him anymore. I’m going for a walk. He moved quickly to the door.

Dad, Carol called.

The Chief stopped and turned to face her.

Please, stay calm. Remember your heart.

The Chief nodded. I won’t be long. He paused and cut a hard glare at Jim. Carol, be careful. And he left.

The sudden silence was deafening. Carol watched the door for a long moment, then turned back to Jim. Their eyes met and hers shot ice.

Can I tell you a story? He asked.

Will it explain why you’re here? She demanded.

He nodded.

She sat back, curled her feet below her. Tell me your story.

Jim swallowed hard, looked down at the floor and began.

I was twenty-three years old and everything was possible. He sipped some lemonade, which he didn’t taste, then raised his eyes to her face. He hated that his hands shook and his throat caught.

I was the hottest prospect in the Cardinal’s system. ‘One year from the majors, they said.’ A sure thing. He shook his head. I was so full of myself. So, instead of working hard and getting my rest, I partied. Every night there were girls in the stands, outside the player’s entrance, in the hotel lobby. His voice softened. It was a dream come true and a disaster. He paused and swallowed. His eyes saw the scene so long ago. I drank and I screwed and I drank. And everything went wrong. I hurt my knee and I drank. In the course of one season I had become an alcoholic. He sighed.

I was so close, Carol. So close that it could have been. Instead I fell backwards into the bottle and out of baseball in three years. He snorted. From prospect to nothing, just like that. He snapped his fingers as the regret showed in his eyes.

When I thought about baseball, I drank. When I thought about you and Jamie, I drank.

He looked up at her. I was too ashamed to come home.

He sipped his lemonade deep in thought. My mother told me that you had named the baby, James, after me. She told me how your dad was taking care of you. He paused. At first, it was convenient not to do the right thing. Then I was too ashamed to face you.

Why didn’t you call me? She asked without emotion.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I thought that you tried to trap me. I figured that if I didn’t call, you would have an abortion and the problem would go away. He shook his head. Instead you surprised me.

You thought I would kill my baby? She asked incredulously.

He nodded.

You coward! she charged, fire in those moss green eyes.

He nodded. I certainly was.

She studied him, surprised by his admission. So why are you here?

Carol, I bounced around the country using every baseball contact I had. I screwed up job after job and burned bridge after bridge. He exhaled. Two years ago I hit bottom. I had no friends left, and I was just a drunk on the street.

What happened? Concern traced across her face.

A group of punks jumped me and beat me senseless. When I woke up I was in St. Mary’s Hospital in full blown withdrawal. He looked at her. It was horrible. He shivered at the memory.

I was in a de-tox ward. His eyes went cold. People screamed constantly, I had hallucinations. He paused. It was hell.

Carol felt a pang of pity, her eyes softened and remained on Jim.

I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. I was sweating incredibly. I had spasms and these awful visions. He paled at the memory. One day a social worker came to see me. His eyes found Carol’s. She was like an angel. He paused and swallowed. Carol, I was at the bottom, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to live. He sipped his lemonade. The self-loathing was unbelievable.

Carol watched him closely, but said nothing.

She held my hand and talked to me. He paused. She even prayed with me. He shrugged. It helped.

Yes, it does, Carol offered softly.

One day she asked me if I wanted to straighten out my life. He paused. I told her everything.

What did you tell her, Jim? Carol asked softly.

That I destroyed all the good in my life. He took a deep breath. I told her about Jamie.

Carol nodded, but said nothing.

She helped me to see that I can’t fix the past, but that the future could be anything I had the courage to reach for.

They sat in silence as he sipped his lemonade.

When I got through that, I made two promises to myself. I was never going to drink again. He smiled. And I haven’t. And when I was clean and sober for one year I would come home and try to do the right thing by Jamie and you.

Carol studied him in silence. Her intent green eyes narrowed in thought.

Jim, I’m happy that you’re getting your life together. But, as for Jamie and me, I think it best that you stay away. We don’t need you in our lives. She said it matter-of-factly and without anger or malice, which made it hurt more.

Her words hit him hard. He sat back with his eyes on her.

Carol, I know you have every right to be upset, still, wouldn’t it be better for Jamie to know his father?

A bolt of anger shot through her. His father? She asked, her voice edged with sarcasm. Do you mean the father who ignored his existence for twelve years?

Carol…

She ran over his entreaty. Do you mean the father that left Jamie’s mother to be labeled a tramp and he a bastard? A long buried anger erupted to the surface. Is that the father you mean?

Carol, I…

She would have none of it. You told me about your life. Her eyes showed rage as her hands crushed a throw pillow that had set decoratively beside her. Let me ask you. Would you be here if your life hadn’t crashed? She demanded. What if you were a star major leaguer like Derek Jeter; would you give Jamie a second thought?

He sat quietly under her barrage. The blood drained from his face and his hands went white from the grip he had on the chair’s arms.

Softly, he spoke. I’ve asked myself those questions. He paused, his eyes on her as he read the pain underlying the anger. I don’t know the answer, he acknowledged in a voice no more than a whisper. Where moments before he had witnessed the Chief’s outrage, now he saw Carol’s pain. ‘What did I do?’ He thought.

His answer caught her by surprise. She studied him as she visibly calmed. At least that’s honest, she stated simply.

Competing emotions tore at her. Just looking at Jim brought back the pain and humiliation. She recalled the scared young girl who cried herself to sleep as she prayed that Jim would call for her. The pathetic twenty-year-old who named the baby James in some deluded hope that the gesture would bring him to his senses.

She thought of the Chief, her proud father. He had suffered with her as he tried to shield her. Never did he condemn her. Somehow, this gruff, hard man had overcome his personal embarrassment as well as the pain of losing his wife to a slow, painful death, to be father to Jamie and emotional support to her. With his help she had completed her education and had been certified as a teacher. The Chief’s influence had been instrumental in overcoming objections to her appointment to fill the open kindergarten teacher’s position, where she had blossomed. Carol and Jamie had stayed with the Chief. They were a family. Carol adored and deeply respected her father, and Chief Charles Harding hated Jim Cheverus.

Then there was Jamie. Her son who felt the absence of his father progressively more and more. She had fielded the questions, the questions Jamie never asked his grandfather; her handsome son with the longing in his eyes. Jim Cheverus had been everything the Chief hated. Jim Cheverus had been pain and humiliation for both her and her Dad. He had deserted Jamie and because of Jim Cheverus, Jamie had been labeled a bastard. Still, Jim Cheverus was Jamie’s father, and Jamie wanted his father, and Carol wanted to give Jamie his father.

Sensing her uncertainty, Jim tried to reassure. Carol, I am truly sorry for the pain I’ve caused all of you, but that isn’t me anymore. He swallowed nervously. I have a job and I’m active at Alcoholics Anonymous. He paused. I’ve regretted what I’ve done and how I hurt you and abandoned my son. Everything your Dad thinks of me was true. But I want it to be different. He felt his mouth go dry, swallowed and closed his eyes as if to say a short prayer.

When his eyes opened, Carol saw desperation in those deep blues. Please give me another chance with Jamie. He fought back the emotion. I promise you, he swore, that I won’t hurt Jamie or you ever again.

Playing for time, Carol asked, Where are you working?

The question threw Jim. He wanted, no, he needed an answer. Yet, something told him not to press.

I’m the assistant golf pro at Bass Rocks Golf Club in Gloucester.

Golf? How did you get that?

"The pro