A Resurrection In Bonners Ferry

By Timothy L. Kabel

A Resurrection in Bonners Ferry is the story of Lawrence Greenwood, a federal parole officer living in Connecticut who has reached a crossroads in his life. He is turning fifty, his marriage to Nilda is in its death throes, and his career is winding down. Lawrence finds joy and comfort in the strong relationships he has built with his three children, Thomasina, Meredith, and Nathan, who is about to make his Major League debut as a pitcher for the expansion Kentucky Colonels. However, a twist of fate sends Lawrence's life in a completely unexpected direction.

Lawrence forges a new beginning as a farmer in Bonners Ferry, Idaho. He is surrounded by odd and quirky characters, including Martin "Soaring Hawk" Tuttle, an unwelcome squatter on Lawrence's land, and Abraham and Doreen Redfeather, a divorced Native American couple who become Lawrence's closest friends. He also meets the enigmatic Jasper Crowley, who appears at the most unexpected times. Lawrence encounters multiple complications in trying to live a simple life in the country. He explores a potential romance with his former protégé, Kelly Larson, and forms an unlikely friendship with Catalina de la Huerta, a former beauty queen who is now a veterinarian, as well as the younger sister of Nilda, who has her own mysterious past.

A Resurrection in Bonners Ferry is about second chances, new possibilities, unexpected romance, a return to a bucolic life, friendship, and baseball. Above all things, it is a tale of the enduring love between a father and his son.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662425981

Book preview

-1-

Fifty did not feel any different. Lawrence Greenwood opened his eyes tentatively, expecting to feel the full force of middle age crash upon him. Nothing happened. He took a quick inventory of his aches and pains. Nothing new had arrived since he climbed into bed the night before, at age forty-nine. He stretched slowly and quietly before glancing to his right. His wife of twenty-two years, the former Nilda de la Huerta, lay next to him. Well, not next to him, but in relatively close proximity. Lawrence realized that he now slept at the very edge of the mattress, with his left hand dangling off the side of the bed. Nilda slept, curled on her side, with her back facing him. Lawrence lifted the sheet to observe his wife. She was forty-two years old and remained a breathtakingly beautiful woman. This morning, she was wearing a pink nightgown, which had ridden up while she slept, exposing her bottom. Lawrence noticed a mark on her left cheek that appeared to be new. He reached for his glasses and rolled over to get a closer look. It was a tattoo of a pink heart, with the initials B. S. in the middle. Lawrence immediately realized that those were not his initials. As he was pondering this, Nilda woke up.

She rolled over and glared at him. His hopes for a birthday reprieve from her scathing rebukes were quickly dashed.

What the hell are you moving around for? I want to sleep. I’m tired.

I just woke up. I guess I’m excited from last night. I didn’t mean to disturb you.

Well, you did. You always do. I have a lot to do today to get ready for your dummy birthday party. I don’t understand why you have to have a party anyway. You’re not six years old, but whatever.

Lawrence started to protest but abandoned the idea. He had originally wanted a small party with some of his friends and his family, but Nilda had vetoed all those guests, which was a power that Lawrence was unaware that she officially possessed. Yet she wielded it like a saber. He had also wanted to smoke some brisket, sausages, and ribs and have a big dish of lobster macaroni and cheese. That idea was also expunged. Now, he would be standing over the grill making hamburgers for Nilda’s family on his fiftieth birthday.

I suppose you want to have sex for your birthday too. Come on. Let’s get this over with.

Nilda rolled away from him and pulled herself up on her hands and knees, pointing her rump at him. She gave a half-hearted wiggle.

Hurry up. I don’t have all day.

As romantic as this is, I’ll pass.

Really? Suit yourself. I won’t offer again.

Not to me, anyway, Lawrence thought.

Over the past several years, Nilda had come to view the ritual of giving Lawrence gifts on Christmas, his birthday, or any other like occasion as a drudgery. She approached it with all the enthusiasm of a Victorian-era charwoman cleaning a chamber pot on a warm summer day. She usually rushed into the store at the last minute and grabbed whatever she first saw, regardless of whether it was something that Lawrence either needed or wanted. His fiftieth birthday was something that she was viewing with dread. Much like her lackluster attempt at intimacy, she simply wanted it to be over.

Lawrence refused to allow Nilda’s lack of interest or enthusiasm in any aspect of his life to put a damper on his mood. His joy actually had nothing to do with his birthday. Once again, Nilda had hijacked his moment and had turned it into something about her. As Lawrence watched her flounce out of bed and stomp across the room, with her fresh tattoo glistening in the early-morning light, he strained to remember a time when things were at least tolerable between them. He thought about when they first met. Lawrence was now in his twenty-eighth year of working for the federal office of adult parole, first as a parole officer, and subsequently as a supervisor. Nilda had been a waitress at the diner in Stamford, Connecticut, where Lawrence usually ate his breakfast. Nilda had moved to Stamford, after living in New York City for a few months, since coming to America from Guadalajara, Mexico, with her boyfriend, Mauricio. Mauricio left her for another woman, despite the fact that she was pregnant. She moved to Stamford to stay with her aunt Migdalia. She waited on Lawrence on her first day at the diner. She was having a difficult time communicating with the patrons, as she was not fluent in English. As a result, she brought Lawrence two omelets instead of a tuna melt. The manager of the diner seemed to be annoyed with Nilda, so Lawrence told her not to worry about it and put in an order of rye toast so that he could eat one omelet for breakfast and have the other as a sandwich for lunch. Of course, Nilda brought him dry toast. She realized that he was being kind to her and began waiting on him every day. He helped her learn English, and after a few weeks, they began dating. Her residence with her aunt was tenuous, and she was not a legal resident. Lawrence fell in love quickly and believed that her volatility would subside as she matured. She had her daughter, Thomasina, a month after they were married. Lawrence adopted Thomasina and never regretted it. Nilda’s volatility did not subside; it actually intensified. And her disdain and disgust for Lawrence grew exponentially. What had started as a marriage of convenience for Nilda had eventually become a marriage of inconvenience.

Nilda constantly complained about Lawrence. It seemed that there was nothing about him that she liked. Lawrence was a heavyset man, and Nilda consistently heaped scorn and ridicule on him for that, despite the fact that he had been heavier when they married. A week before his birthday, Nilda had told Lawrence that he had let himself go in every possible way. When pressed for specifics, she shrugged.

I don’t have time. Go stand in front of the mirror with some paper and a pen and make a list.

An hour later, Lawrence called her to say that he ran out of paper and needed more. Nilda, as usual, was not amused. Humor went to her to die. She had no interest in Lawrence or anything that he said or did. Lawrence realized this but continued to make efforts nonetheless. His primary concern at this point was the children.

Thomasina was a bright, sophisticated young woman with a strong character and work ethic. As much as Lawrence had been worn down like a big sack of grist by the unyielding millstone of his wife’s disdain and disparagement, he plodded onward like an old plow horse satisfied with an occasional carrot. He frequently regretted his decision to marry Nilda but never second-guessed his adoption of Thomasina. Thomasina had graduated from Boston University and was now at the University of Washington Medical School in Seattle. Lawrence and Nilda had two biological children together, Nathan and Meredith. Meredith was almost eighteen and just graduated from high school. Although she excelled in academics, she had decided to become a chef and was accepted into the four-year program at the New England Culinary Institute in Montpelier, Vermont. Lawrence was an excellent cook himself and was very proud that his little girl was pursuing a career in something they loved together. Nilda was not of the same opinion.

You want to be a cook? Are you serious? You could be anything. You could be a lawyer and cook when you get home. You’re going to wind up fat, like your father. This is your fault, Lawrence. She is throwing her future away because you love her cooking so much. You’d eat anything—look at you! Your cooking isn’t so great anyway. For years, you have been bragging about your cooking. It’s okay, but we ate it because we were hungry. When your daughter is working in a diner and it’s too late for college, what are you going to do then, stupido?

Nilda was still upset about it a month after Meredith’s graduation. Nathan had decided against college as well, but that did not raise her ire, despite the fact that he turned down a full scholarship to Vanderbilt University. The reason was simple. Nathan was the top-ranked high school pitcher in the country two years earlier. He was selected as the number one overall pick in the MLB draft by the expansion Kentucky Colonels. He was awarded a signing bonus of eight and a half million dollars. Nilda was ecstatic and immediately bought herself a BMW convertible in bright red, with a black top. It had a vanity plate that read caliente. Technically, Nathan bought it for her, because she said that she deserved it for taking him to all those games. In actual fact, Lawrence had been the one taking Nathan to most of the games. Nilda had always maintained a very loose association with the truth and facts and frequently revised history in mind-boggling ways. True, she did go to a lot of games over the years, but they were mostly the local ones, not the ones that required someone to get up at four in the morning and drive three hours. Those fell to Lawrence. Furthermore, she was not the most attentive of spectators and often missed Nathan’s at bats as she was on her phone. On the rare occasions that Lawrence had to work and couldn’t attend the games, she was never able to provide accurate reports. Once, she told Lawrence that Nathan had pitched two innings and given up three runs. In fact, he had pitched six shutout innings.

Lawrence recognized very early on that Nathan had a gift, but Lawrence always thought that he would be an outfielder, not a pitcher. However, by the time he was a freshman in high school, it was clear that he was destined to be a pitcher. He still played the outfield on days he wasn’t pitching. He was an above-average fielder and a decent hitter, but he was a peerless pitcher. He made the varsity team as a freshman and was the number one starter for his next three seasons. He averaged 17.5 strikeouts per a seven-inning game and only allowed two earned runs in his junior year. In his senior year, he didn’t allow an earned run over 114 innings, just missing David Clyde’s all-time record. He also struck out an average of 19.0 batters per seven-inning game. He pitched eight no-hitters and allowed a total of four hits all season. Although he committed early to attending Vanderbilt, he was clearly going to be the number one draft pick after he graduated.

Lawrence had originally advised Nathan to attend college, as he was being offered a full scholarship. However, when it became clear that Nathan would be the number one draft pick and would be offered a huge signing bonus, Lawrence relented and agreed to let Nathan turn professional. Nilda had been in favor of it all along, partially because of her instinctive desire to take the opposite position from her husband whenever possible. In addition, the prospect of several million dollars being handed to them made Nilda positively euphoric. Naturally, this led to a brouhaha between her and Lawrence. She viewed the signing bonus as a boon to the family and determined that a new, larger house, in the mansion category, would be appropriate. Lawrence demurred, as he took the position that the bonus was Nathan’s and should be handled prudently. Once he made the major leagues, it would be a different situation. Furthermore, at this point, all three children were soon going to be out of the home. They had no pets. A larger house wouldn’t make sense, even if Lawrence and Nilda stayed together, which seemed unlikely. In what was a very rare occurrence, Lawrence put his foot down. He insisted that the overwhelming majority of Nathan’s bonus be set aside. Lawrence spoke to the owners of the Kentucky Colonels, who were actually colonels themselves, Colonels Francis and Norbert Buford, whose father, Colonel Beauregard Buford, had amassed a fortune selling country hams, bacon, sausages, and bourbon. His sons had carried on in his footsteps but had also diversified by purchasing several automobile dealerships in Kentucky.

The Buford brothers were jovial men who were excited about bringing Major League Baseball to their state. Francis was fifty-six years old and stood about six feet, three inches tall. His dark hair had started receding when he was in his twenties. Rather than attempting to combat this predicament with a toupee or a comb-over or some radical method, he simply shaved his head. That, along with his dark-brown mustache, which resembled a cat’s tail curling around his mouth, gave him an almost-menacing look. In addition to hams, he smoked long dark torpedo-shaped cigars, a habit he had picked up from his father. His formidable appearance did not end at his neck. He resembled one of his bourbon barrels with a set of arms and legs jutting out of it. With his immense bald head and massive body, he resembled a walrus. In reality, he was as threatening as a monarch butterfly. He oozed kindness and decency out of his pores as often as he did perspiration on a hot Kentucky afternoon. He liked to partake of his own hams, bacon, sausages, and bourbon, but not to excess. He was occasionally within shouting distance of excess, but he never actually went there. He lived life with gusto but was exceedingly considerate of others. He liked to say that he didn’t want his pursuit of fun to interfere with someone else’s. He had a slight stammer, which most people found to be endearing rather than annoying. Nilda considered it to be irksome, as she possessed very little patience and was intolerant of anything and anyone that did not provide her with immediate gratification. Lawrence and Nathan had grown very fond of Francis and his brother.

Norbert Buford was the perfect little brother for Francis. He was fifty-three years old and was like a bleeding heart plant. He flourished in his brother’s shadow, and his heart was visible to the world. Norbert was a rather-diminutive fellow, standing about five feet, nine inches tall, and weighing 160 pounds. He sported a mop of dark-brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and a full beard. He was lithe and quick in his movements. Norbert was a philanthropist and enjoyed building houses for Habitat for Humanity. Naturally, the press referred to them as the Walrus and the Carpenter. They were both affable men with quick wits, so they didn’t mind the appellation. Norbert wasn’t as loquacious and boisterous as his brother; he was more muted in tone and delivery than Francis. Although they were very successful and astute businessmen, they were, first and foremost, gentlemen. They truly loved baseball and felt honored to be owners and treated their players with kindness, consideration, and respect.

When Nathan was drafted, he was still a minor. Nilda expected that the signing bonus would be used to pay off the mortgage and other family debt, and also to purchase items that she felt that she deserved. In her mind, it was what she was entitled to, and it was only a drop in the bucket compared to the whole bonus. Lawrence refused to cede to her wishes. He viewed the signing bonus as Nathan’s money. He realized that there were no guarantees in life, and particularly in sports. Lawrence had tremendous faith in his son, but injuries and misfortune are possible for anyone. He insisted that the bulk of the bonus be set aside and worked closely with the Bufords to invest it prudently for his son. He allowed Nathan to take a small portion of his bonus to provide for his living expenses, as the Minor League salary would be relatively paltry. He also agreed to let Nathan buy a truck for himself and the BMW to mollify Nilda. Nathan wanted to buy a truck for Lawrence too, but he refused the offer.

Listen, son. At this point, you have to view this money as the fortune that will support you for the rest of your life. I fully believe that you will have an amazing Major League career, but there are no promises given. You can’t assume anything, and you have to guard that money. Now, when you make it to the Major Leagues for good, that will be something altogether different. Then, you will be earning substantial money, and how you choose to spend it will be totally up to you. You still want to be careful. You don’t need forty cars and a bunch of jewelry.

Okay, Fappa. I understand. I promise I will be careful with the money. So when I make it to the majors, I can buy you a truck?

After you win your first game, not a day before.

Nathan accepted the restrictions on his spending much more gracefully than his mother.

You are being ridiculous, Lawrence. You have no right to do this. It is his goddamned money, not yours. As always, this is all about you. You are selfish. I am his mother. If he wants to buy me a car or pay off the house for us, let him. It’s his money and his decision, not yours. You are only thinking about yourself. After all the sacrifices I made, I deserve this, and Nathan should be able to get me whatever he wants. If you don’t want your dummy little truck, be it, but you don’t have to punish everyone else. You think you are a saint or a millionaire. Well, you are neither one. You are just a big, fat loser who wants to be perfect, but you aren’t.

Nilda’s tirades on the subject would last for hours and sometimes occurred three or four days in a row. She was placated when she received her convertible, but it was still a bone of contention between Nilda and Lawrence, but as Lawrence liked to say, Nilda found more bones than a team of archaeologists. The thing that saved him from further abuse and scorn was Nathan’s success in the Minor Leagues. The summer after he signed, he went to the Rookie League, where he was clearly the best pitcher, not only on his team, but in the league as a whole as well. He turned eighteen after the season ended, so he was one of the youngest players in the league. The following year, he tore through the system. He started out in class-A ball and threw three straight shutouts, including a perfect game, in which he struck out twenty-three batters. He was quickly promoted to AA, where he finished the year with a 14–1 record and had an ERA of 0.67. He led the league in strikeouts. He attended Major League Baseball spring training in 2015 and dominated. There was a great deal of speculation that the Colonels would have him start the season in the majors. Since the Colonels were an expansion team, in their second year of existence, they were, to put it gently, horrid. Nathan would bring excitement to the team, which was comprised of mostly inexperienced young players, with some veterans on the downside of their careers. As one local scribe wrote, the only stars at a Colonels game are the ones in the sky. That would all change once Nathan arrived on the scene. The media began calling him Nate the Great during spring training. The fans and the media were clamoring for him to be on the team at the outset of the season.

The Bufords decided to take a cautious approach so that Nathan could get some experience at AAA. Lawrence was in complete agreement with them. He realized that Nathan would only have one Major League debut. If he wasn’t ready, the fans and media could turn on him quickly. Besides, the Bufords had hired Earl White Castle Pickens as the AAA pitching coach. Earl was called White Castle because when he was a Major League pitcher, he only featured a slider. It was all he threw. He occasionally threw a fastball, just to see if the batter was paying attention and to give the announcers something to talk about. His slider was so devastating and unhittable that he had been the top relief pitcher for four years in a row in the late nineties. He had been a pitching coach in the Major Leagues for the last ten years, most recently with the Baltimore Orioles. He had been fired at the end of the 2014 season, after having a difference of opinion with their star pitcher, Randy Jensen, who was called the Possum, for the same reason as the country singer George Jones: he looked like one. He had beady, close-set eyes and a long pointy nose. White Castle felt that Jensen needed to go after hitters more instead of nibbling at the corners. Jensen disagreed, claiming that he would be successful on his own. He had a record of 10–14, with a 4.98 ERA. He averaged 5.1 innings pitched per start. However, he was in the first year of a six-year contract, so he stayed and White Castle left. The Colonels swooped in and signed him. He was perfect for a new team, and more to the point, he was perfect for Nathan. White Castle had a unique arrangement with the Bufords and their general manager, Brett Hastings. Brett was one of the youngest general managers in the Major Leagues and was a big proponent of using analytics. White Castle was still relatively young and could relate to the younger pitchers. He had willingly embraced the use of statistics and analytics. In addition, he could work from experience and help his young pitchers with their mechanics.

It was for all those reasons that the Colonels hired him. Nathan was his pet project. Nathan had a fastball that touched 102 miles an hour but was consistently at around 98 or 99, even in the later innings. He also had a devastating nose-to-toes curveball and an above-average changeup. However, he had not mastered a slider. The thought was that having a respectable slider would give the batters so many options to worry about that it would put Nathan into another stratosphere as a pitcher. He was thrilled with the idea. White Castle began working with him in spring training. Nathan was a fast learner, and his slider had a nasty bite to it. After he worked it into a game with positive results, White Castle had him throw one inning of an outing using only the slider. He issued his only walk of the spring but then struck out the next three batters. After that, it was a viable weapon for him. What made White Castle’s arrangement unique was that he was hired to be the pitching coach for the Amarillo Armadillos, the AAA affiliate of the Colonels. However, when Nathan was promoted to the Colonels, White Castle would go with him. It was never a question of if; it was only a question of when. Nathan certainly could have started in the majors at the beginning of the season, but the Colonels were being cautious. Nathan grudgingly accepted it and dedicated himself to preparing for a rapid ascension to the Colonels. Nilda did not accept it.

Nilda did not understand the subtleties of the situation and had no desire to do so. She wanted her son to be in the Major Leagues as quickly as possible, primarily so that he could earn a Major League salary as quickly as possible. She carped about the decision to start Nathan at AAA as spring training was winding down.

This is not fair. He is their best pitcher, Lawrence. This is because he is half-Mexican. Those gringo, racist bastards are keeping him down because he is half-Spanish.

Nilda, I don’t think that’s the case. There are several Spanish guys on the team. They just want him to get some seasoning for a little while in the minors. He’ll be up soon. They don’t want to rush him. They feel if he’s not ready, it could affect his confidence and set him back.

Seasoning? What is he, a piece of pork? That is absurd! If he were all white, he’d be on the big team.

A few weeks later, someone sent her an article that suggested that the Colonels would keep Nathan in the minors for a few months so they could gain another year of control before he became a free agent. Her fury was revitalized.

Those cheap bastards, the Plumber and the Whale, they are trying to rob my baby boy. How could they be so cheap? They are cheap and racist. I should call them up and tell them what I think about them.

Nilda, once he gets to the majors, he will be fine. The Bufords want to keep Nathan with the team. They will probably give him a long-term contract a year or two after he reaches the Major Leagues. As long as he stays healthy, he will be fine and will earn a lot of money.

You really are an imbecile, Lawrence. That and you have no balls. You never stand up for your family. You never take your family’s side. You always side with strangers. You are a big, fat pussy. Everyone thinks you are a big, tough parole officer just because you deal with criminals and were shot once. I know better. You are a little bitch.

Lawrence had become immune to Nilda’s abuse. He had learned not to respond. He generally let her rant until she ran out of steam or found another topic. It all became moot, anyway, due to Nathan’s performance.

Nathan tore through AAA. With White Castle as his mentor, he became unhittable, figuratively and, in some instances, literally. For Amarillo, he went 10–0, with a 0.47 ERA. He averaged 20.4 strikeouts per nine innings. He clearly demonstrated that he was ready to make his Major League debut. The Buford brothers decided to call Nathan up on the Friday after the MLB All-Star game, which happened to be the day before Lawrence’s birthday. The team was on the road and would be playing in Boston, at Fenway Park. As usual, the Red Sox were battling the Yankees for first place. The Colonels were mired in last place, fifteen games below .500. The Bufords and Brett Hastings decided to bring Nathan up on the road to reduce the pressure on him. He would get two road starts in Boston and New York before pitching at home. Nathan was able to spend a few days at home before heading to Boston on Friday. Lawrence took the week off to be with him. Lawrence, Thomasina, and Meredith decided to ride up with Nathan on Friday afternoon. Nilda would drive up later, with her sister Consuela. Nathan was relaxed on the ride, but Lawrence knew that he was starting to focus. Lawrence drove so that Nathan could chew on his fingernails, something he had been doing on these drives since he was seven. Lawrence comforted himself with the fact that Nathan no longer chewed his toenails as well. They were able to park in the special lot reserved for players. After they entered the stadium, Nathan hugged and kissed his sisters. He hugged Lawrence and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He slipped an envelope in Lawrence’s hand.

What’s this, son?

Don’t open it until you’re in your seat.

Okay. You’ll be fine. You’ve worked hard to get here. Just do what you always do. I’m proud of you, and I love you.

Okay, Fappa. The game starts in four hours. Keep it short.

Lawrence and the girls watched him walk confidently to the players’ entrance. They walked around the stadium for a bit before they heard someone call out to them. It was Brett Hastings. He took them up to the special suite that the Buford brothers had reserved for the game. Lawrence had figured that they would have box seats, but this was an unexpected boon. The Bufords were already settled in. They embraced Lawrence and the girls.

Ready for the big night? By the way, Lawrence, a little bird told Norbert and me that tomorrow is your birthday. Here, we have a little something for you.

Francis handed him a box that was wrapped in brightly colored paper, with a large bow on top.

Wow. Thank you very much. You certainly didn’t have to do this.

Norbert smiled.

Nonsense. You’re all family now. Open it. What else are we going to do while we wait?

Lawrence opened the gift. It was a bottle of their special reserve twenty-five-year-old Trailblazer Bourbon, which had a picture of Daniel Boone on the label. It was a very expensive bottle, something Lawrence never would have purchased for himself, despite the fact that he loved bourbon, especially Trailblazer.

This is amazing. I’m very grateful.

Francis had one of the waiters take the bottle, which was in a cedar box, and run it down to Lawrence’s truck. Francis teased the waiter.

No sampling, young man.

He chuckled and gave the waiter a twenty-dollar tip.

After a bit, some food was brought in. Everyone ate, except Lawrence.

Thomasina smiled at the Buford brothers.

My dad gets too nervous to eat whenever Nathan pitches. He’ll eat later.

Meredith nudged Lawrence. Read the note, Fappa.

One day, years earlier, Lawrence had taken the kids to a baseball game, and when they were teasing him, he tried to say, Don’t pick on your old papa. However, he couldn’t decide whether to say papa or father, so it came out as fappa. Naturally, it stuck. Lawrence stepped over to the seats and pulled out the envelope. Thomasina and Meredith hovered nearby. Lawrence opened the note.

Dear Fappa,

I want to thank you for everything that you have done for me over the years. You drove me all over the world and paid for me to play travel baseball. I know that you often went without things so the girls and I could have what we needed and wanted. I appreciate you more than I can ever say. I love you, and I am dedicating tonight’s game to you. I never would have realized my dream if it weren’t for you. By the way, since I made it to the majors, we are going shopping tomorrow morning.

I’m proud that you’re my dad.

Love,

Nathan

-2-

Lawrence cried after he read the note. He always found it absurd that he, a big tough parole officer, cried at things like this. He hadn’t cried when he was shot, but a little note had him sniffing and blubbering. Thomasina took the note, and she and Meredith cried too. Norbert, Francis, and Brett stood by silently. Francis couldn’t take it.

My goodness. What’s the matter?

Thomasina handed him the note.

We are family now, remember?

Soon, all three of them were bawling too. Norbert composed himself first.

You have a special child, Lawrence. Actually, three special children.

I certainly do.

Lawrence was glad that Nilda wasn’t there to witness the crying. At that point, he was happy whenever Nilda wasn’t around. Lawrence and the girls agreed that it would be best not to share the note with Nilda. She definitely wouldn’t cry. She would be jealous and would demand to know why she didn’t receive one.

Brett went down to check on things in the clubhouse. The Buford brothers decided against doing so, as they didn’t want to make Nathan nervous. Brett came back and reported that Nathan was fine. The game was set for a seven thirty start. It was being broadcast nationally because Nathan was starting.

Nilda and Consuela breezed in at seven fifteen. They had clearly spent hours selecting and, subsequently, squeezing into their outfits. Lawrence observed them in silence. Nilda was thin but curvy. Her belly was taut, despite having three children, due in large part to the tummy tuck that she had recently undergone. The source of the funding for the tummy tuck was undisclosed. Originally, Lawrence suspected that Nathan had somehow given her the money, but he had not. Regardless, she was wearing a skintight black miniskirt and a sequined white bustier that bared her refurbished midriff. Both the skirt and the bustier were at least one size too small. Her large breasts were heaving from the walk, and it appeared as if a naked dwarf was standing inside her bustier, touching his toes. She turned around to survey the box and also to display her assets. Her behind resembled a giant plum wrapped in saran wrap. Her skirt was so tight every time she bent over, which was often, her thong would pop into view, as if it was a drowning victim breaking the surface to gasp for air. As usual, Nilda wanted the night to be about her. Consuela was cut from the same cloth as her older sister but was a bit more worse for wear. Her features were harsher than Nilda’s, and she was not as well-endowed, but she left little to the imagination. She was wearing a pair of shorts that made regular shorts look like long pants. They might have fit her when she was seven years old. Her butt cheeks protruded from the bottom of the shorts like twin soufflés. Her top was the opposite of Nilda’s. Rather than thrusting her breasts upon the world, she wore a sheer, loose-fitting crop top that was low-cut. The straps, which were the thickness of angel-hair pasta, were constantly sliding down her shoulders, like snow on a roof when the sun is beating down. She didn’t seem to mind, a fact that was emphasized by her omission of a bra from her wardrobe.

Lawrence absorbed it all in silent resignation. He was no longer embarrassed because it was beyond his control. He focused on the game. He was aware that Nilda’s breasts popped out of the bustier when she hopped up for the national anthem. He simply didn’t care. The other men attempted to avert their eyes, out of deference to Thomasina and Meredith, who were mortified, but it was difficult as Nilda and her sister seemed to be having a duel of exhibitionism. Lawrence and his daughters were relieved when the game started.

The Colonels had taken every precaution to provide Nathan with the best opportunity for success. In addition to having White Castle take over the role of pitching coach for the Major League team, they had taken Calvin Pierce in the expansion draft. This was his second year as the starting catcher for the Colonels. In 2009, he had been the MVP of the American League. That year, he hit .345 with forty-two home runs and 127 RBI. Since then, his offensive skills had diminished somewhat, but he was still considered the best defensive catcher in the game. He was peerless at calling a game, framing pitches and getting the most out of young pitchers. In addition to Nathan, the Colonels had two other tremendous young prospects, Tyler Hennessy, whom they had taken from Detroit in the expansion draft, and Enrique Pinero, whom they claimed from the Rangers. They were twenty-three and twenty-two, respectively. Enrique was slightly resentful of Nathan, as he believed he was just as talented. He wasn’t. Tyler was amazed at Nathan’s ability and felt that with the three of them, the Colonels could be on their way to building a competitive team. The Buford brothers and Mr. Hastings believed the same thing. Calvin believed that it was his job to lead his young pitchers to greatness. He truly looked like a catcher. He was about six feet tall, and he was built like a fire hydrant. He was one of the slowest base runners in the league and occasionally lost races to the Colonel, the team mascot, who was actually a college kid named Creighton who wore an oversize costume of a colonel, who was modeled after Theodore Roosevelt. He marched around the stadium and antagonized fans and players alike. His favorite foil was Calvin, and he would sometimes challenge the catcher to a race around the bases during the seventh-inning stretch. The Colonel never lost. Despite his lack of speed, Calvin was quick behind the plate and rarely allowed passed balls. He was also a decisive leader and took charge of the pitchers. Nathan had pitched to him exclusively in spring training, and they had built a solid rapport. It was clear that Nathan trusted his catcher and never shook him off once in the spring.

The only person who had a problem with this was Nilda. When Nathan came home during the All-Star break, she hounded him on the topic, as long as Lawrence wasn’t around.

Why do you let that old, chubby gringo tell you what to throw? You are the pitcher. You have all the talent, not him. People come to see you, not him. Do what you want, not what he tells you to do.

She made Nathan promise to shake Calvin off on the first pitch, to show him who was the boss. She even sent him a text reminding him while he was riding to the game.

The weather was perfect for a mid-July evening in Boston. There was a light breeze, and it wasn’t too humid. The Colonels had built a team that was young for the most part, and there had been an emphasis on defense. Mr. Hastings believed that they would eventually win with pitching, defense, and timely hitting. In the top of the first inning, they scored two runs. The leadoff hitter, Curtis Jones, the fleet-footed center fielder, lined a single and then stole second and third. After Miguel Costa, the second baseman, struck out, Zeus Garrett, the big young third baseman, hit a towering home run over the green monster. The Red Sox pitcher, Wayne Murray, got the next two outs on fly balls. Now it was Nathan’s turn.

Nathan strode to the mound. He was six feet, two inches tall. He was solidly built, and his muscles rippled under his skin, the way that fish move just under the surface of a lake during the summer. He was an extremely handsome young man, with closely cropped dark hair and brown eyes. His attempts to grow a goatee had not proved fruitful, so he was clean-shaven. He oozed power and confidence as he took the mound. He started warming up, stretching his powerful left arm between pitches. The Colonels’ road uniform was impressive. The uniform was copper colored, with Colonels written in cursive across the chest in silver. On each shoulder was a silver eagle, and there was another one on the cap, which was copper, with a black brim. On the back of Nathan’s uniform was the number 14, in silver. There was no name on the back. The Bufords were insistent on that topic. The pants were also copper, with a vertical silver stripe on the outside of the leg.

As Nathan reached the mound, a contingent of young women who were seated behind the Colonels’ dugout stood up and began cheering. They were waving signs, most of which read, Nate the Great. One of them held up a large sign that read, Nate, will you be my mate? She and a few others screamed.

Nate, we love you!

He ignored them. Nilda and Consuela did not.

Consuela, look at those putas.

Ay, si. What a bunch of whores. Look at how they are dressed.

I know. Disgusting. That one with the sign is practically showing all her tetas. Unbelievable!

Lawrence shook his head.

The Red Sox leadoff hitter, Spartacus Leonard, dug in. Just before Nathan took the mound, Francis passed out fitted Colonel caps for everyone and insisted that they all wear them. Nilda and Consuela protested, claiming that the hats would ruin their hair. Francis and Norbert would not take no for an answer. As they pulled their hats on, they each suffered a wardrobe malfunction, flashing their breasts. As they pulled themselves together, Nathan prepared for his first pitch. Calvin put down the sign. Nathan shook him off. Calvin put down the sign again. Calvin shook him off again. Nilda and Consuela looked at each other and smirked, conspiratorially. Calvin put down the sign again. This time, Nathan nodded. He threw a fastball. Spartacus, who was a switch hitter, was batting righty. He unloaded on the pitch and ripped a line drive off the green monster. It bounced back to the left fielder, Josh Malone, so quickly that Spartacus only got a single. The Buford brothers and Brett turned to Lawrence in disbelief. Brett spoke.

What the hell is he doing? He never did this in the spring. He can’t be shaking Calvin off. Spartacus is a first-pitch fastball hitter.

I have no idea what he’s doing. He never mentioned anything to me.

Excuse me, I told him to throw what he wants and not to let that fat, old gringo boss him around.

Everyone stared at her incredulously. Francis sputtered.

Holy shit. What the hell were you thinking?

He was going to say more, but the next batter stepped in. It was Pete Walker, who was a great hitter and also drew a lot of, well, walks. Lawrence glared at Nilda, who smirked and shook her shoulders. Calvin did not put down a sign. Nathan stared in. Calvin shook his mitt. Nathan threw a fastball that was high. The next two pitches were in the dirt. The fourth pitch, a curve, was on the corner, but it was called ball four. Nathan was in trouble that quickly.

Brett erupted.

Do you have any idea how much work we did preparing for this night? You are destroying everything by opening your big mouth. Jesus Christ, what a moron!

Nilda exploded with rage.

Let me tell you something, honey. I’m his mother. I will always stand up for my kids.

She turned to Lawrence, jabbing his chest with her finger, which caused her right breast to pop out of her bustier. The left one joined its twin.

And you, you’re going to let this bastard talk to me like that? Clearly, you have no balls.

She walked away and squeezed herself back into her top.

Consuela walked over to her. Are you surprised, Nilda? He never takes your side.

Lawrence was furious.

Brett is right. Calvin knows the players and the league. His job is to help Nathan do as well as he possibly can. You had no right to do that. Brett is Nathan’s boss.

Nilda strutted over to Lawrence and poked him in the chest. I have every right. I’m his mother, Gordo Mierde. She pinched his arm and twisted it. That’s for not backing me up. Come on, Consuela. Let’s go. Girls, you should come too.

Nilda and Consuela teetered out of the box unsteadily on their heels. Thomasina and Meredith stayed, anxiously staring at the field.

Calvin had stalked out to the mound, his rage barely under control. He stared at Nathan, his eyes smoldering.

Are you finished with this happy horseshit? You never shook me off in the spring, and if you’re going to start now, let me know, and I’ll have Remlin put the backup in. I don’t know what the hell got into you, but you made quite a mess.

Nathan regretted his actions and was trying not to get flustered.

All right, kid, are you going to listen to me now and throw what I say?

Yes, Cal. Absolutely.

Calvin smiled and patted Nathan’s shoulder.

Well, then, let’s dig you out of this shithole.

Calvin went back behind the plate, and the Red Sox’s best hitter, Benito Big Benny Salazar, dug in. He was an immense man who batted from the right side. He destroyed left-handed pitching. He looked at Calvin as he crouched behind the plate.

Hey, Calvin, I’m going to knock this little baby back to the minors with one swing. Nate the Not-So-Great.

Calvin ignored him. He gestured to Nathan to settle down. Nathan took a deep breath, and so did everyone in the luxury box. Calvin called for a curveball. Nathan nodded. The pitch came in. Big Benny guessed fastball and swung as hard as he could. He tapped the ball softly back to Nathan on two bounces. Big Benny fell down on one knee. Nathan whirled and threw to third. The third baseman threw to second, and the triple play was completed before Big Benny even stood up.

Calvin looked at him derisively.

You were saying, Numbnuts?

He met Nathan on the way to the dugout and gave him a high five.

The little group in the luxury box exploded in jubilation. Thomasina and Meredith hugged their father. Thomasina sighed.

Fappa, we’d better go find them before they get in trouble. We’ll be right back. He’ll be fine now. Eat something.

Before they left, Thomasina whispered something to Norbert, who nodded.

That’s a great idea, young lady. I’ll take care of it.

Lawrence and the others could see a discussion in the dugout. Calvin, White Castle, and the manager, Phil Remlin, were talking very seriously to Nathan. It ended well, with all of them smiling. Calvin led off the inning with a home run over the green monster. The next three batters went down quietly.

As Nathan was warming up on the mound, Thomasina and Meredith returned with Nilda and Consuela. They were agitated after the earlier argument. In addition, they had been heckled by the Boston fans due to their attire. They glared at Lawrence and Brett and returned to their seats. A moment later, one of the clubhouse attendants knocked on the door. He was carrying a big bag. Norbert thanked him and turned to Thomasina and Meredith.

I know you ladies are chilly. This might help.

He pulled out two beautiful Colonels jackets and gave them to the girls, who gratefully accepted them and slipped them on. He turned to Nilda and her sister.

Are you chilly too, Mrs. Greenwood?

Ay, yes, thank you.

Norbert handed Nilda and Consuela each a heavyweight pullover sweatshirt, which would keep them warm and also keep their breasts under wraps. They worked perfectly. Norbert reached into the seemingly bottomless bag and pulled out a jacket for Lawrence. It was identical to the ones the girls were wearing. The body was copper, in a fleece-like material, and the sleeves were white leather. There was a silver eagle on the back, with Kentucky above it and Colonels below it, in silver. The difference was that Lawrence’s jacket had his name embroidered on the right breast, and a black circle with a silver 14 in it on the left breast.

Wow, this is great. What a surprise!

Well, Lawrence, your daughters asked us to make that up for your birthday.

Lawrence hugged and kissed his daughters, and they all settled in to watch Nathan pitch. Nilda and Consuela sat apart from everyone else.

Brett walked over. Look, Mrs. Greenwood, I’m sorry if I offended you, but we want Nathan to be successful, and the best way for that to happen is to let Calvin call the pitches. Nathan can just concentrate on throwing them. Anyway, he got out of it with no damage, and he only threw six pitches. Also, that’s the first triple play in team history.

Nilda ignored him.

Nathan started the inning at ease and in command. His fastball was hovering near one hundred miles per hour, and his other pitches were sharp. He relied on Calvin to call the game. In the second inning, he struck out the side and only threw twelve pitches. He repeated the performance in the third inning. He only needed eleven pitches in the fourth inning. In the fifth inning, he hurled an immaculate inning, striking out the side on nine pitches. He had a total of fifty pitches after five innings. He struck out twelve consecutive batters, which set a new Major League record. Even the Fenway faithful cheered him as he walked off the mound. They realized that they were witnessing something special. There was no consideration of taking him out after the fifth inning. In the sixth inning, the Red Sox shortstop, Frankie Perkins, led off. He decided to bunt, to catch Nathan off guard and to break up his rhythm. He bunted the ball into the air. Nathan took a step off the mound and caught the ball. He struck out the next two batters on three pitches each, giving him fourteen strikeouts for the game. He struggled a bit in the seventh inning, needing thirteen pitches to strike out the side. In the eighth inning, the cleanup hitter, Chin Hu Shin, was able to make contact and popped the ball up. Calvin caught it five feet in front of home plate. The next two batters were called out on strikes. Nathan had nineteen strikeouts for the game, which was one behind the Major League record. He had thrown seventy-eight pitches through eight innings.

White Castle talked to Nathan and Calvin after the eighth inning. Calvin advocated for Nathan to pitch the ninth. The Colonels had scored two more runs and were winning 5–0. White Castle and Remlin decided to let Nathan try to finish the game. They had the closer, Jed Stuart, warm up, just in case. As Nathan took the mound for the ninth inning, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. They had conceded the game and were pulling for Nathan to get the strikeout record. Frankie Perkins led off and again tried to bunt. He was serenaded with boos and jeers. He made contact but hit the ball a second time. He was called out. The next batter was the catcher, Eduardo Oliveras, who had been overmatched all night. The first pitch was a changeup that drifted away from him. He flailed at it. The next pitch was a high fastball. Oliveras swung from his toes. The ball was in Calvin’s glove before he finished his swing. The next pitch was a curve. Oliveras leaned back, thinking it might hit him, but it broke over the plate for a called strike 3. Oliveras turned toward Nathan, removed his helmet and bowed. Nathan tipped his cap. The last batter was the second baseman, Danny O’Dwyer, who, like Nathan, was a rookie. Nathan fired a fastball down the heart of the plate. O’Dwyer left the bat on his shoulder. The pitch was clocked at 101 miles per hour. The next pitch was 102, in the same spot. O’Dwyer swung through it. The third pitch was a slider that was buried in the dirt. O’Dwyer missed it by two feet. The crowd gave Nathan another standing ovation, and the scoreboard flashed the fact that he had set the Major League record with twenty-one strikeouts.

He was swarmed by his teammates. The Bufords and Brett hugged Lawrence and his whole family, including Nilda and Consuela, who were no longer angry. Thankfully, they were wearing their new sweatshirts, so their jumping up and down did not cause embarrassment. They had not followed the game as closely as Lawrence, Thomasina, and Meredith; they had been whispering to each other and texting.

Nilda looked at Lawrence with a slight smile.

So he won, right?

Thomasina could no longer contain herself.

Jesus, Mom, how could you not know that? You two didn’t pay attention to anything. Do you know why they flashed Nathan’s name on the screen? No, of course you don’t. He set a record for the most strikeouts ever in a game. He also set the record for the most consecutive strikeouts in a game. You two were so busy chatting, flashing your boobs, and texting that you barely have any idea how amazing he was tonight, especially after you almost ruined everything with your awful advice. You two are ridiculous.

Nilda and Consuela stormed out of the suite without another word, not even a goodbye or thank-you to the Bufords.

Francis whistled.

Well, wasn’t that something? I’m going to have to ask you two ladies for your jackets.

Thomasina and Meredith looked surprised, and slightly offended, but they pulled off their jackets and handed them to Brett.

Francis smiled warmly.

Very good. Now, take these.

He reached into the bag and pulled out two jackets. They were replicas of the one Lawrence was wearing, except one had Thomasina embroidered on it and the other had Meredith.

We didn’t want to give you these in front of your mother and aunt, because we figured it would cause friction.

The girls thanked the Buford brothers for the jackets.

Lawrence and the girls stayed in the box for a little bit before heading to the car, where they would wait for Nathan. Meredith texted her mother, who said she was on her way home but would be stopping somewhere. Lawrence had finally eaten. The Bufords and Brett headed down to be with the team and to meet the media. They invited Lawrence and the girls, but they declined.

No, his sisters and I will wait for him outside. This is his moment.

After a long wait, Nathan emerged. Some of the young women who had been in the stands were waiting for him. They swarmed him. He gave autographs and was kissed by several of them. He finally made it to the car. He climbed in, smiling broadly. He had several pieces of paper and a small package in his hand.

Meredith hugged him.

Those girls almost kidnapped you. What’s all that in your hand?

Phone numbers. I’m not sure about this package.

He opened it. It was a pair of frilly panties with a phone number written on them. Attached was a note telling him to call the number to get what belonged in the panties.

Gross. Give me those.

Meredith threw them out the window, along with the phone numbers. Nathan did not object. They drove home celebrating Nathan’s success.

Hey, where’s Mom? She sent me a text, and I heard that she was there, but I didn’t see her after the game.

Well, son, she headed home with her sister, but I think they are going out, so she probably won’t be home when we get there.

I figured. Did she watch the game, at least?

Thomasina spoke up.

Sort of. She knew it was you, and she saw some of it, but she was talking and texting.

That’s what I expected, but that’s why we have Fappa. Calvin sent her a gift.

Really. What is it, son?

One of his old catchers’ mitts. He said if she wants to call my pitches, she should start getting ready to go into the game.

Lawrence and the girls laughed at that image.

They arrived home and went to bed. Nilda wasn’t home and didn’t answer their texts. Thomasina tracked her phone and found that she was at a bar in Meriden.

She’s probably celebrating your victory, little brother.

Right. I’m sure.

Meredith sighed.

She had better not sneeze. She will pop right out of her top again, and she might blow Consuela’s off too.

Thomasina snorted.

They probably won’t be on long, anyway. I’m sorry, Fappa. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.

It’s too late for that, honey. You kids have to remember that she’s your mother, no matter what, and you need to show her respect.

The next morning, after Lawrence rebuffed Nilda’s attempt to placate him with sexual favors, he sat up and watched her getting dressed. Although Lawrence knew that Nilda was relieved that he did not accept her invitation for a roll in the hay, she used it as an excuse to chastise him.

Hmm. You don’t want to have sex. Like you’re going to get a better offer. In your dreams, fat-ass. Face the facts, Lawrence. I’m way out of your league, but for some reason, you don’t find me attractive. Maybe you’re having an affair.

Nilda’s remarks were absurd on so many levels that it made Lawrence’s head hurt. In the past, he would have waded into the fetid swamp of her reasoning and debated her statements, point by point. He had finally abandoned that strategy. It would be like wading into a cranberry bog and attempting to gather the berries one by one. She could not fathom that her loathsome personality and cruel treatment of Lawrence had turned him off. She was still physically attractive, but as Lawrence often said, so are many venomous snakes. Even without the tummy tuck and the accompanying redistribution of fat to her rump, Nilda was beautiful. The renovations had simply increased the number of her admirers.

As she stomped around naked, she made comments to and about Lawrence. He ignored them, preferring to focus on Nathan’s game. He essentially tuned Nilda out. Suddenly, a shoe hit him in the back of the head.

Ow. What the hell did you do that for?

You need to listen to me, Gordo Mierde. Do not dismiss me. What, are you thinking about one of those bitches at your office?

No, Nilda. I’m thinking about Nathan’s night.

Ha. I don’t believe you. You are probably thinking about some gringa bitch at your office. Besides, don’t get me started about last night. I can’t believe you let that bastard talk to me that way, but again, you always take everyone else’s side against me. You’re just a big pussy with no balls. I’m warning you right now, you’d better be in a good mood tonight at your stupid little party. You’re not going to embarrass me again. Are you listening to me?

She was standing in front of him, naked. He was not enticed. He just wanted the ranting to stop. For a second, he thought about shoving her out of the window and into the rosebushes, but he decided against it.

Yes, Nilda, I’m listening.

Good. By the way, Brad is coming tonight. For some ridiculous reason, you don’t like him. I don’t want any of your moody shit. Do you hear me?

Yes, Nilda.

Brad was Badru Shehata. He owned a real estate office where Nilda and Consuela had worked on and off doing filing. Brad had recently divorced his wife and had begun asking Nilda or Consuela, or sometimes both, to help him by cleaning the house. They also attended various social functions with him so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

Nilda turned around to head over to her dresser. Lawrence focused his eyes on the tattoo on her ass: B. S. Mystery solved. The funding source for the tummy tuck was now essentially revealed as well. Nilda told him that she took out a loan, but Lawrence knew that was impossible. The prospect of grilling burgers for Brad while he squeezed Nilda’s buns was not appealing to Lawrence. He dressed quickly, as he was going out with Nathan. Nilda dressed quickly as well. She put on a tiny white skirt over a white thong and wore a white tube top that left her midriff exposed. She was not wearing a bra. Nilda seemed to have forgotten that she was a forty-two-year-old married mother of three.

Are you going someplace, Nilda?

Yes. It’s none of your business, but I’m going to play tennis with Consuela and Brad. I’ll be home for your stupid little party, don’t worry.

I’m not worried.

Lawrence walked into the kitchen. Nathan was sitting at the table, drinking cranberry juice.

Happy birthday, Fappa.

Thanks, Nathan.

Good morning, Mom.

Good morning.

Are you making breakfast, Mom?