Fugitive Family by Pamela Tracy

Author:Pamela Tracy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2009-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

NINE

The snow melted; the mud stayed. Lisa loved it. Tucson seldom—and never in Lisa’s memory—got snow.

Growing up, Lisa thought snow meant the world had come to a standstill. Not in Sherman and certainly not during the final game of the season. The minister insisted that the show must go on, even if he wound up a little shorthanded. This Friday, Mikey’s mother had a cold and one of the outfielders had to work. They were the only ones they knew for sure wouldn’t be there. Perry took first base; Lisa had second. Gillian, complaining every step of the way, was in the outfield.

It was almost too cold to warm up. Gillian stood next to Lisa as Perry practiced throwing from first to second.

“If Greg doesn’t show up, I am not playing third,” Gillian groused, watching Lisa catch.

“The minister would move shortstop to third and do without a shortstop before he’d ask you to do that,” Lisa assured, tossing the ball back to Perry.

“How come you’re not assuring me that Greg will show up?”

“Because I don’t know if Greg will show up or not.” It took all of Lisa’s willpower not to check the parking lot again while Perry chased the ball. She’d already checked about twenty times. She also scanned the park. Except for the softball game, it was pretty empty. Gone were the skateboarders and bicyclists. There were a few families scattered about. One tried to make a snowman out of mud and snow. Another played a game of tag. A couple sat on a bench snuggling. A lone man leaned against a tree. Funny, with the park nearly empty, Lisa had the strangest feeling that she was being watched.

“Surely Greg’d call if he weren’t going to show,” Gillian said about the time Perry returned to first base.

Until yesterday, Lisa would have believed that, too, but he’d surprised her. He might move? Keep Amber out of school for months? Where was this coming from?

“I think he’d call,” Lisa finally agreed as the players moved to the dugout. “Hey, did he ever say anything to you last year about possibly moving?”

“They came well after Christmas,” Gillian said. “For the first two months Amber would pack all her belongings into her backpack at the end of the school day. It’s one thing you learn, teaching school, your attendance chart on Friday might not be the same as your attendance chart come Monday. After a while, I spoke to her father about it, and then it stopped.”

“You never told me about that.”

“Quite honestly, I forgot.” Gillian patted Lisa’s arm. “By the way, you can stop checking the parking lot. He’s here.”

Well, Amber certainly didn’t act as if anything were amiss. She managed to sprint from the brown pickup in record time, skipped in front of her father, mindless of the mud, and then crossed her arms and pouted right when she got to the dugout. “Where’s Mikey?”

“His mother has a cold,” Lisa said.

“So does my daddy and he’s still going to play.”

Behind Amber, Greg shook his head.

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