The more self-centered and egotistical a guy is, the
better ballplayer he’s going to be.
— Bill “Spaceman” Lee, pitcher
“So? What is it?”
Keely’s questioning voice came to Suzanna through the bathroom door.
Suzanna sighed, called out an answer: “I didn’t look yet.”
“You didn’t—oh, for crying out loud, Suzanna, let me in there.”
“No! That is, just a sec, okay? I’m building up my courage.”
The handle turned, and Keely walked into the bathroom. “You’ve been building up your courage since yesterday morning. It is now almost noon on Sunday. Rome was built quicker. Tim knows where you are now, thanks to my big-mouthed husband, and he knows you’ll be here tonight for the party. So look. We’ve waited long enough.”
“We’ve waited long enough?” Suzanna held tight to the pregnancy kit. “You’re already pregnant. You have no surprises left. You even know you’re having a boy.”
“The marvels of modern science. Now pull that thing open, twist it, bend it, say the magic words over it, whatever you have to do with it, and let’s see the results.”
“Jack told me you were pushy,” Suzanna said, grimacing. “But he said he likes that.”
“You’ll learn to love it, trust me,” Keely said with a laugh. “Now, let’s see what you’re supposed to see,” she added, picking up the empty box. “Okay, it’s a plus for pregnant, a minus sign for not pregnant. Not exactly rocket science. We can do this.”
Suzanna sighed. This was silly. She either was or she wasn’t. Waiting certainly wasn’t going to change anything; fervent prayers to the fertility gods weren’t going to change anything.
She turned the white stick over, looked at it, practically had to push Keely’s blond head out of the way to look at it.
“And we have a winner!” Keely said, grabbing a numb Suzanna in a crushing hug. “Oh, how wonderful! Our babies can play together.”
Suzanna put a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not. You weren’t feeling sick a minute ago, so you can’t feel sick now. That’s psychological. Trust me, there will be days when it’s not, but right now it is. Still, let’s get out of this bathroom and sit in the kitchen. I’ll make you some soup.”
“I don’t want soup,” Suzanna said as they entered the kitchen, feeling mulish. “I want to go to Philadelphia and murder Tim.”
Keely stepped away from the pantry, holding a can of chicken noodle soup. “Oh, I’m sorry, Suzanna. You’re really upset? I guess I think babies are such wonderful news that I just went a little nutso. You don’t want the baby?”
Suzanna sat down at the kitchen table. “Want the baby? Of course I want the baby. I want a dozen babies. It’s the timing that’s so terrible. I just don’t want Tim to say he wants me because I’m having his baby, or say that he wants the baby because I just happen to be having his baby, or that he—no, I think that’s it.”
She leaned her elbows on the table and sighed. “I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“Certainly enough for now,” Keely said, opening the can and dumping the contents into a microwave-safe container. “Will you tell him tonight?”
Suzanna blinked back tears. “I don’t think so. He’s probably angry with me by now, you know.”
“I know. Men get mad at us because they did something dumb and then we had the nerve to get mad at them for it.”
“That, too,” Suzanna said, summoning a weak smile. “But it’s that they lost to the Mets last night. He went 0-for-5 last night, Keely, with two strikeouts. You do know, of course, that that’s my fault? If they don’t win today, and at least get a split with the Mets for the series, they end up down two games after being tied on Friday night. Well, I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Jack’s the same way when the Yankees lose. I’ve learned to enjoy the game, and I know how much he loves it; but those two are so intense, aren’t they? It is just a game.”
“Keely, it was never just a game to Jack and Tim. Not ever.”
“Also true. I met Jack right after he had to retire, and he was miserable, I thought he was just spoiled and self-centered, but I slowly came to realize that to Jack, his life was over; his world had ended. If Candy hadn’t come along? I think he would have sulked forever. But the thing is, Suzanna, Jack learned that baseball isn’t all there is to life. He still loves the game, but there’s so much more now in his life. Candy, me, the baby. Aunt Sadie says the best thing that ever happened to Jack was tearing his rotator cuff. While I don’t quite believe that one, I do think he’s a happier man now than he ever was while he played. More... complete.”
“Tim’s always lived for the game. God, Keely, he married me because he was so afraid he might lose the game.”
“So he says,” Keely said, putting a bowl of microwaved chicken noodle soup in front of Suzanna. “So he says. But you know what, Suzanna? I think his subconscious is smarter than that. Somewhere, deep inside himself, that big dumb jock looked at you and outsmarted himself.”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind. I’m pregnant I get to say silly things once in a while. You’ll see, it’s in the expectant mothers’ manual. Now, eat up.”
* * *
Three out of four. They had dropped three games out of four to the Mets. What could turn out to be the most important series of the season, and they had blown it. Back out of the tie for first place they had grabbed on Friday, and now two full games out, with the Philly sportswriters already saying, “Choke city,” and “Not enough good pitching,” and, worst of all, “What’s up with Tim Trehan?”
Tim left Philadelphia behind him, gratefully, and headed up the turnpike to Whitehall.
By the time he hit the Quakertown exit, all thoughts of the game had fled, and he was wondering about his reception at Jack and Keely’s when he arrived.
Suzanna would be there. Jack had said that Keely had said that Suzanna had said she’d be there.
What if she wasn’t there?
And why there? Why with a house full of people, Aunt Sadie probably wearing one of those silly paper hats, a couple of leis, and a big button saying “Birthday girl” on it?
He didn’t need a crowd. He needed to be with Suzanna.
God, how he needed to be with Suzanna.
She, obviously, didn’t need to be with him. Because Jack had said that Keely had said that Suzanna had said she wanted him to come to the party, yes, but that she was still going to be staying in the guest room at his brother’s, and that he was to pretend everything was just fine between them for Aunt Sadie’s sake, for Mrs. B.’s sake, and not cause any trouble or she’d have to hurt him.
That was the message he’d gotten: she’d have to hurt him.
That was just a saying, an empty threat. He knew that. So why was he already hurting?
And why did he feel as though they had all reverted to elementary school? He told me to tell you that he said that she said—cripes!
Tim pulled onto the narrow macadam road that led back to Jack’s house and several other homes that were either brand new or under construction, and ended at the small bridge running across Coplay Creek to his own house.
His and Suzanna’s house.
The one she wasn’t in.
He was early—it didn’t take long to lose two-zip. He could stop in at the house, hope that Suzanna might be there. Drop off his bag. Glare at Lucky.
Looking to his left as he neared his brother’s house, Tim could see a huge black four-by-four parked in the circular drive. “Oh, great. Cousin Joey. The shorter the man, the bigger the vehicle.”
He pulled into the drive, figuring he might as well check to see if Suzanna was there, before making an ass out of himself, running through an empty house, calling her name like some pathetic loser.
Besides, it had been a couple of months since he’d seen his cousin, Joey Morretti. Used to be Joey called himself Two Eyes, back when he wanted to believe he was part of the Bayonne, New Jersey, Mafia. If there even was a Bayonne chapter of the wise guys.
Aunt Sadie had said Joey called himself Two Eyes so he could remember how many he had, a statement that pretty much summed up Joey Morretti.
Candy’s biological mother was Joey’s sister, Cecily, once known as the airhead of the family but now better known as the conniver, thankfully at a distance from Candy, both physically and legally. When Cecily had temporarily adopted the handle Moon Flower and gone off to Tibet to find herself—or so she’d said—she’d left Candy on Jack’s doorstep.
Changing Jack’s life forever.
Of course, along the way to his current happiness, Jack had found himself having to deal not only with Candy, and a fairly belligerent Keely, but also with Cousin Joey, who had tried to gain custody of the baby.
Which, Tim thought now, would have been about the same thing as handing the kid over to be raised by penguins or something.
Still, in the past year or so, Joey had changed. For the better.
“Like he could have gotten worse?” Tim muttered to himself as he got out of his car and looked at Joey’s license plate that read, STUDLEY1. “Cripes. Studley One? Studley five million and six, I would have believed.”
As he approached the door to his brother’s house, it opened, and Studley One came skipping out. “Hey, Tim-bo! Just coming out to check on my wheels. Can’t be too careful with this baby, ya know. I don’t want it boosted.”
Tim looked at his cousin. Still short, of course, but with his dark blond hair no longer dyed black to make him look more like the Italian side of his heritage. No longer dressed head-to-toe in black, either. Although plaid Bermuda shorts and black Banlon socks were never going to take the fashion world by storm.
“I think your wheels are safe here, Joey,” Tim said, adding to himself, at least the ones that haven’t already fallen off your trolley.
“Yeah, guess so. Hey, nice wife, Tim-bo. I brought a wedding gift with me, ya know, since I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
“Nobody was invited to the wedding, Joey. We eloped to Vegas.”
“Uh-huh, heard that. So, wanna know what it is?”
“What what is?” Tim asked, stepping left, then right, trying to get past his cousin. Suzanna was in there. If he had to pick his cousin up and toss him on top of his “wheels,” he’d do it.
“The present. Don’t you want to know what I got you guys? It’s one of those things that shoots salad all over the place. The deluxe model. Nothin’ but the best for my cuz, ya know. Besides, if you’re looking for Suzanna, she’s not here. She and Jack went to the store for more liverwurst for Aunt Sadie. Bruno already ate it all.”
“Bruno? Who’s Bruno?” If Suzanna wasn’t inside, he might as well stay outside. Because if he was in for lectures from Aunt Sadie and Mrs. B., he could wait to hear them.
Joey rolled his eyes, then hitched up his plaid Bermuda shorts. “Ya know. Bruno. Bruno Armano, my fighter. Well, used to be my fighter, until he went to cooking school. Now he’s assistant to the pastry chef in this really hotshot place in Bayonne.”
“There’s really hotshot places in Bayonne? Just kidding. So, your fighter, huh? Oh, yeah, I remember now. The mountain you tried to pass off as the muscle that was going to hurt Jack if he didn’t hand over Candy to you. I thought he was called Sweetness.”
“Yeah, well, not anymore. Seems someone asked him his name one night when we were hanging at a local bar—because we’re still friends, ya understand? I’m loyal that way, ya know. Anyway, Bruno says his name is Sweetness, and this guy, he takes exception.”
Tim was barely listening. He was too busy listening for a car to pull into the driveway, with his wife in it. “How so?”
Joey made a face. “People are strange, Tim-bo, ya know that?”
Tim looked at his cousin, noticing that he was wearing about half a dozen gold chains around his neck, one holding a large round charm that looked like it contained a tiny photograph of the cast of The Sopranos. “Yeah, Joey, I’ve heard that. I even believe it.”
“Well, this guy, this really strange guy, he takes exception to Bruno calling himself Sweetness, which was just his boxing name, ya know? Sweetness, the Beast of Bayonne. He says to Bruno, he says, ‘Hey, there’s only one Sweetness and you ain’t him.’“
Tim nodded. “Walter Payton, right. Chicago Bears. Hell of a player, and a real class act as a man. I can’t really blame the guy if he was a fan.”
“Yeah, that’s what the guy says. Football player. Damn phenom, Payton was, ya know. The best, just the best there ever was, right? We all know that. But Bruno, he don’t follow football; he don’t know nothin’, ya know? He picked the name Sweetness because he likes sweet stuff. So he looks at this guy, blinks his big dumb baby browns, and he says—‘Who?’ And the guy yells out.
“Heresy!”—and then decks him. Pow! You remember Bruno’s jaw?”
“Glass, right?”
Joey shook his head sadly. “Crystal. Down he goes, splat. When he got up, he said that’s it, from now on he’s Bruno again. So, he’s Bruno again. Don’t call him Sweetness, Tim-bo, not unless you want to see a six-foot, six-inch guy ducking behind Candy—for cover, ya know. According to Bruno, you never know when there’s another fan out there somewhere what could take exception.”
Tim smiled. Good old Joey, always good for a diversion. “I’ll remember,” he promised, then stepped past his cousin, who finally seemed willing to let him go, as he was already moving off to check his wheels. “Is the birthday girl inside?”
“No, the birthday girl is standing right here on the porch, waiting for her kiss. Terrible game, Timothy. I’ve seen better swings on a rusty gate.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sadie, I can always count on you for a pep talk,” Tim said, climbing the steps to drop a kiss on the woman’s papery cheek. Sure enough, there was the paper hat, the leis, the birthday button, the whole nine yards. “You look great. Not a day over ninety.”
She aimed a slap at his behind as he entered the house, then followed after him. “No need to be facetious, Timothy. And if you’re looking for your wife, she’s not here. And, if you’re planning to be sulky or nasty or anything else we don’t like, I’m warning you now that Keely, Margaret, and I, solely or once formed into a very small but very nasty mob, will throw you out of here on your ear.”
Tim turned to look at his aunt. “Jack said that Keely said that Suzanna said that I was to act like nothing was wrong. But you know?”
Sadie Trehan sniffed. “Poor, poor Timothy. We’re women. Of course we know. We know all of it, every last little detail. And I’m horribly ashamed of you, Timothy. I always thought you were the smart one.”
“No, you didn’t. You always thought Jack was the smart one.”
She leaned close to whisper, “I just tell him that to make him feel better.”
“But I’m supposed to be the handsome one. I kind of liked that.”
Aunt Sadie gave an exaggerated sigh. “You do know you and Jack are identical twins, correct?”
He gave her another kiss on the cheek. “What I know, old woman, is that I’ll never get anything past you, will I? Now, where’s Mrs. B.? I want to know what she’s told Suzanna about Margo.”
“The unwed mother, you mean? Margaret hasn’t told her anything. We’ve decided to leave that up to you. Ah, such a sad frown, Timothy. Were you hoping we’d do it for you?”
“Until this moment, no, I hadn’t thought about it. But if you guys want to, hey, that’s okay with me.”
“I’ll just bet it is. Don’t be a wimp. Ah, there’s Suzanna now; they must have parked out back and come in through the kitchen. I recognize her laugh. Make her cry, Timothy, and I’ll have to punish you.”
“You’d have to get in line, Aunt Sadie. Suzanna’s got first dubs. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”
Tim headed down the hallway toward the kitchen, pursuing the sound of voices, of laughter.
“Sure,” he muttered under his breath. “Happy, happy. Let’s all be happy.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mrs. Butterworth piped up from behind him, “Poor boy. And just think, only yesterday, all Tim’s troubles seemed so far away.”
He turned, slowly, and glared daggers at his old teacher. “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting days to say that one to me.”
“Hmmm, maybe years. It’s always the ones who ride the highest that have the farthest to fall. That’s not the Beatles. That’s the old pride cometh before the, etc. Oh, and you look terrible.”
“Only because I crawled here from Philly on my hands and knees. Is Suzanna in the kitchen? I thought I just heard her laugh.”
“Yes. She laughs, she talks, she is proving that other than her ridiculous notion that you’re one of the good guys, she is a sensible human being. You married her because she seemed the lesser of three evils, Tim? What were you thinking?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Thinking? I wasn’t thinking, Mrs. B. I was... I was temporarily insane. No sleep except for nightmares, my game was going to—”
Mrs. Butterworth made a face.
“—heck, going to heck. Reporters with their secret joke about the Trehan curse, and that was going to hit the papers any day if I didn’t start hitting again. And then there was Suzanna, smack in front of me like manna from heaven, and we had such a great time, and the next thing I knew...” He put up his hands as if to end, “And that was that.”
“What a sorry excuse for an excuse that was, Tim,” Mrs. Butterworth said, shaking her head. “An excuse, by the way, that mentions nothing about why you haven’t told Suzanna about your stupidity, and how lucky you are that everything worked out so well, that you now know that you love her. You know, Tim, all that mushy stuff?”
“I was working my way up to it?” he offered hopefully.
“Nope. Not good enough. You’ve had nearly three months to work your way up to it.”
“But I was getting close, honest. It was probably the Margo and Lucky thing that got in the way,” he said, trying again. “I didn’t want to confuse things.”
“And that’s just pitiful,” Mrs. Butterworth said, rolling her eyes. “Really, really pitiful, Tim. If those are your arguments, your excuses, then Sadie’s right. Unless you’re up to a siege, Tim, Suzanna is going to run, not walk, toward the nearest exit.”
Okay, this was good. Mrs. B. was going to give him some hints. She knew Suzanna; she was a woman. She’d tell him how to fix this.
“Siege?”
“You do remember your history, don’t you? Attacking forces surround the castle until those inside surrender?”
“Gee,” Tim said, his hopes not so high after that statement. “And here I left my catapult in my other slacks. What in he—heck are you talking about, Mrs. B?”
“Think, Tim. You need to lay siege to Suzanna. Not toss rocks from a catapult or starve her out, for goodness sake. Use your imagination. You have to lay siege to her heart.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall in the hallway and looked at Mrs. B. thoughtfully. “To her heart. Siege. So, what you’re saying is, I don’t go into the kitchen, grab Suze, take her outside, and tell her that I’m the world’s biggest jackass, but I love her?”
“That’s what you were planning?”
“Yeah, well... sort of. I mean, I’m not so sure it would work, and it probably won’t, but I’ve got to start somewhere, right? I decided on the drive from Philly that I can’t go too slow. It would drive me nuts.”
Mrs. Butterworth stuck her slipping glasses higher on her nose. “How did your gender ever think it could rule the world? Answer me that one, Tim. No, don’t bother. I taught history. I know how badly you men have been doing it. So, no, Tim. Caveman tactics... Well, they went out with the cavemen.”
“I thought sweeping a woman off her feet was romantic,” he said, laughter coming to him from the kitchen again while he stood there, feeling as if he’d stepped in quicksand.
“In some cases, yes. But you’re not one of those cases. You tricked the woman, Tim. You lied to her, if only by omission, and now you’re hanging on by a thread, boy. One wrong step, and it’s all over.”
He walked three quick paces toward the kitchen, turned around, walked back to Mrs. Butterworth. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Okay, okay. What do you and Aunt Sadie think I have to do?”
“And Keely,” Mrs. Butterworth reminded him. “It’s all three of us.”
“Three of you? Like the witches in MacBeth?”
“Don’t you sass me, Timothy Trehan,” Mrs. Butterworth said, wagging a finger under his nose.
“I’m not, I swear. I want your help. I need your help. But, first, are you also helping Suzanna? Because you can’t be pitching for two teams, Mrs. B.”
“I’m old. I can be anywhere I want to be,” she said rather smugly. “Now, here’s the plan.”
Tim leaned closer.
“You are going to court your wife.”
He backed up. “Oh, come on. That’s really your plan? This siege thing?”
“You have a better one?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “No. But I’d already thought of that one. Make nice, don’t push her, prove to her that our marriage was—is—a good idea. But you know Suzanna. She can be so damn... darn stubborn. It could take months. I’d hoped you’d have a better plan. A faster one?”
“Faster? Oh, I get it.” Mrs. Butterworth looked at him from overtop her glasses. “I suggest cold showers, Tim,” she said, and then she turned, sort of swirled an invisible cape, and headed back toward the foyer. He could almost swear he heard a witchy chuckle as she went.
* * *
Suzanna had seen Tim’s car parked in the circular drive and was grateful when Jack had driven around to the garages, giving her another moment or two before she had to face the inevitable.
The inevitable was that she was pretty sure she was going to melt like warm butter when she saw Tim, the jerk. And if she did that, not only would Aunt Sadie, Mrs. B. and Keely never forgive her, but she’d never forgive herself.
A one-sided love was doomed from the beginning. She’d figured that out during her senior year in high school, and then applied only to west coast universities, knowing that Jack and Tim were staying on the east coast.
Yes, a one-sided love was doomed from the beginning. She’d forgotten that somewhere during one crazy night in Pittsburgh, of all places. But she remembered it now.
Tim knew she loved him, as she kept reminding herself. He’d have to be completely unconscious not to know that. He’d always known.
And she’d always been his good old Suze.
He was going to come waltzing in here with his hangdog look, his eyes all puppy sad, looking so damn adorable, and push all her buttons, hoping she’d still react the same way she’d always done:
I fell asleep after practice, Suze. Could I copy your English homework in first period study hall? Come on, Suze, save my life.
Hey, Suze, you’re not going to believe this, but I’ve got a flat and my spare’s no good. I’ve got this date tonight? Jack’s already called dibs on Dad’s Chevy. Do you think you could swing it so that I could borrow your mom’s car? Help me, Suze, save my life.
All the way back to elementary school: Suze? Was today the day we were supposed to bring in popsicle sticks to make an African hut? Because, you know, I just plain forgot—hey, you brought extras. Good old Suze, you saved my life.
Every time, the hangdog look, the puppy eyes.
Every time, she’d give in, help out, “save his life,” come to the rescue. Break her own heart.
Now, there was a history to be proud of—if she were a masochist.
And here they were again.
He had to be expecting her to give in, having made him suffer for a couple of days. He had to believe she was too good-hearted, and too stupidly in love with him, to do anything else.
And he was pretty close to right.
Except, she’d learned a few things over the years. She’d learned that she could live, function, even succeed, without Tim in her life. That had been an important lesson.
If she had to, she could learn it again.
Because, no matter what, she was not going to hang on to him because there was a child involved now, not hang on in a marriage begun in deception, be the one giving love, always giving love, and getting Tim’s sincere thanks in return.
She’d “sincere” him, the bastard.
Oh, how she hated him! Oh, how she loved him!
Oh, where in hell was the man? Was he planning on hiding out in the living room or something, hoping she’d come to him?
Fat damn chance, bucko!
And then, suddenly, there he was. Walking through the kitchen and into the den, heading toward her, no sign of a birthday present for his aunt in his hands—undoubtedly figuring that she’d “saved his life” and signed his name to her own present. And he was right, of course.
She clutched Candy to her protectively, tight enough to make the child begin to struggle to be free. Clearly Candy wasn’t old enough to join the Association to Shun Tim Trehan, because the little girl was holding out her arms, squealing for her uncle to take her.
“There she is,” Tim said, grabbing Candy and kissing her. “There’s my girl.”
No, Stupid, I’m your girl.
Maybe shunning him isn’t enough. Maybe some rope, some honey, and a convenient anthill?
Suzann turned away, realizing she’d gone just a little hysterical. Now she was jealous of a sweet baby like Candy? What kind of sick, twisted, pathetic mind would even give out signals like that, let alone believe them, even for an instant?
Had to be being pregnant. Keely had sworn there would be changes in her moods and thinking processes that would sometimes startle her, surprise her, even embarrass her.
Being jealous of a baby because Tim had called her “my girl” had to be one of those hormone-induced aberrations.
Either that, or she was going nuts.
“Hello, Tim,” she said, lifting her chin, praying her tone was light, her smile at least halfway believable. After all, there were at least twenty-five guests milling around in the kitchen and den, all of them knowing that she and Tim were still relative newlyweds. She had no choice but to put a brave face on things, hope Tim did the same.
“Hi, babe,” he said, then winced. “Sorry. I mean, hi, Suze.” Then he bent down, still holding Candy, and kissed her hello. Smack on the mouth.
Suzann felt her stomach flip, and psychological or not, she went racing out of the den, heading for the powder room, where she promptly brought all of the orange soda she’d drunk on the way home from the store back for an encore.