This isn’t the quality of cotton we have come to expect from Roma.” The owner of the textile factory, a Mr. Draper, shook his head over the pallets that had been delivered from the decks of the Cordelia.
Blanche stood uncertainly by the carriage. She didn’t know how to respond. In the past, her only business consisted of dealing with school supplies and food from the local mercantile in Roma. But from the time she had spent reviewing the accounts for Lamar Industries, she knew delivery of cotton played a big role in continued profitability. Was this kind of complaint common?
The chief stevedore shrugged. “I just load it and unload it, boss.”
“And I’m telling you, this isn’t what I ordered.” Draper’s voice grew agitated.
This disagreement was going around in circles, and she took a step forward. “Do you have a copy of the order you placed?”
“What’s that?” Mr. Draper switched his gaze to her. “Who are you?”
“I am Blanche Lamar. Captain Lamar was my father. I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding. The order might clear it up.”
Mr. Draper looked at Ike out of the corner of his eye, who nodded. Blanche stepped on her irritation. How long had Ike been handling business for her father?
“I have a copy in my office.” Mr. Draper headed for the small adobe building at the back of the property. “This way.”
Ike held a chair for her while Mr. Draper rustled through his file drawer. He laid a sheet of paper in front of her. “This is what I ordered.”
The handwriting was legible, but that didn’t make the meaning any clearer. She’d guess it referred to the weight and quality of the raw cotton. Did she have to understand the cotton business to operate a profitable steamboat operation?
Ike zeroed in on the heart of the problem. “You requested six bundles. We delivered the requested half dozen. Any problems you have with the product, you need to take up with the farmer.”
“And if I refuse delivery?”
Were all business owners this belligerent?
“That is acceptable, as long as you pay for the return shipment.”
Panic rose in her throat. She thanked God for Ike’s presence and calm demeanor. She didn’t know if she could speak.
The two men continued arranging the details while she tried to relax. She clasped her hands in her lap, tapping her fingers against her palm, settled her back against the chair, and let a smile play on her face. A lemon drop might renew the moisture inside her mouth. They could stop at the mercantile for some penny candy. She could afford that much. Visions of hard candy ran through her mind while she ran her tongue around the inside of her cheek. From the posture of both Ike and Mr. Draper, she guessed they had engaged in this duel of words many times before.
I still have so much to learn.
Including the information the lawyer would convey. As his associate had predicted, Mr. Carver didn’t return early. With the completion of today’s business, the Cordelia was ready to return to Roma. They couldn’t justify spending an additional three days in Brownsville so she could talk with the lawyer.
Ike shook Mr. Draper’s hand, and he turned to her. “Is that acceptable to you, Blanche?”
She hadn’t followed all the steps of the negotiation. “Th—that’s fine.”
“Good. Then we’ll be on our way.” They left the office by one of the many side streets in Brownsville. All roads led to the river eventually, at least they did in Roma. Follow the flow of traffic, follow the smells, follow the birds, and she would find the wharves.
“How do you want to spend your last night on land?” Ike had relaxed, perhaps glad that the business had finished.
The words sounded a gong in her heart. Was this her last time in Brownsville? She didn’t dare risk another trip down the river. One time had already turned her whole world upside down.
She also didn’t know if she wanted to settle in Roma; she had changed from the person she was. The meeting with the lawyer should have provided some direction, but for some reason God hadn’t allowed that to happen.
“What are you thinking?” Ike nudged her shoulder. “You went somewhere faraway.”
Blanche brought her thoughts back to the presence of Ike at her side, the community of Brownsville out before them. “You don’t have to keep me company. Did you already have plans?”
“Nothing, except this.” He reached into his pocket and flashed three tickets before her. “Ventura has invited us to join the Brownsville Bats for a baseball game.”
The carriage returned for them, and Effie sat next to the driver. “Have you told Blanche yet?” Her smile was as warm as the white cotton dress with gay red stripes she wore.
“Just now.” Blanche realized Ike’s clothes matched Effie’s, thin red pinstripes in his shirt and a red bow tie. “Someone should have told me to wear red.”
“You noticed.” Ike’s lips lifted in a lopsided smile. “The team’s colors are red and white.”
Blanche glanced at her black suit and decided that it would cover a multitude of sins, with all the dust and spills possible at a baseball diamond.
“You have been to games before.” Blanche made it a statement, not a question.
“As often as possible.” Effie’s light laughter rippled through the air. “You’re wondering why a blind woman wants to go to a baseball game.”
“The thought did cross my mind.” Blanche accepted Ike’s arm as he assisted her into the carriage.
“The ballpark, please,” Ike said to the driver. The horse moved at a slow trot.
“There must be more to baseball than watching men running around the bases.”
“Oh my, yes. A bag of peanuts and a box of Cracker Jack.”
“Cracker Jack? What is that?”
“A delicious snack that Elaine would never allow in her kitchen.” Ike rubbed his stomach in anticipation. “Caramel corn with peanuts. There is something to be said for the pleasures of childhood.”
“I can’t wait to taste it.”
“And hot dogs and pretzels and—”
“Stop! You’re giving me a stomachache.”
“Do you mind if we walk the rest of the way?” Effie glanced over her shoulder. “I enjoy a chance to stretch my legs. We’ll take a carriage back after the game.”
Blanche nodded. Soon the three of them were walking down the street, Ike’s hand tucked through the crook of Blanche’s elbow. He made her feel protected, special. Tonight he was offering her another new experience. “Effie, what do you think of baseball?”
“I love it. I hope you enjoy it. Have you ever played?”
Blanche paused in her steps. “What, me, play baseball? No.” Shock showed in her voice. “Girls don’t play baseball. Do they?”
“Maybe in the schoolyard. Even I have played catch.” Effie kicked a pinecone and caught it with her hand. “They tell me I caught nearly as many balls as the girls who can see.” Pushing her hands out, she said, “Here, catch.”
The pinecone brushed the ends of Blanche’s fingers before dropping to the ground. She giggled.
“I guess you won’t be catching any fly balls today.” Ike smacked his fist into his palm. “I’ll have to catch one for you.”
“Fly ball?” The image of a ball with tiny white wings brought a smile to Blanche’s face.
“Let’s get to our seats. I’ll explain it all to you.”
Their “seats” turned out to be bleachers. Blanche tucked her skirt beneath her, hoping to avoid soiling the fabric.
Peanut shells crunched beneath their feet. “Ah. The sound of peanuts.” Effie lifted the hem of her skirt and settled down next to Blanche.
“What do you want to eat? Hot dogs, Cracker Jack, peanuts? Candy?” Leaning in close, he whispered, “Beer?”
“Ike!” A giggle accompanied Effie’s reprimand.
“I take that as a no.”
Blanche considered. “I don’t know. They all sound good. Except beer, of course.”
“I’ll get one for each of us, together with Dr Pepper.” Ike left a handkerchief to mark his place, on Blanche’s right. “I’ll be right back.”
“Is he always like this before a game?” Blanche watched him half-run down to a vendor carrying a box full of snacks supported by a shoulder harness.
“Turn back into a little boy all over again? Yes. I think it does him good.”
Blanche leaned forward to see Ike’s retreating back. He encountered the vendor, the pitch of his head suggesting laughter, filling his arms with food. “He’s buying enough to feed everyone here.”
Effie laughed. “He does that on purpose. He sneaks it back on ship and then skips breakfast for a day or two. I think Elaine knows his secret, but she lets him get away with it.”
Blanche had brought sweets home from a friend’s house once or twice, but Mother had never caught on.
Impossible. In the short time Blanche had shared Effie’s cabin, she knew one or two of the places she kept special treats, and could guess at others. Mother must have known most of Blanche’s secrets, but she had pretended otherwise. The thought warmed her down to her toes. Mother had allowed her the small piece of childhood.
Ike returned with his arms laden with food. “Here’s a bag of peanuts for you, and one for Effie, and one for me.”
Removing a peanut, Blanche squeezed the shell. It crushed beneath her fingers, popping the nut onto the floor. The shattered shell clung to her skirt. She tried to pick it off.
“Just brush it underfoot.” Ike handed her another nut. “We get to make all the mess we want to here at the game.” He snapped a shell in half and dropped two peanuts into his hand before he dropped his shells onto the floor. Lifting his foot, he ground them into powder.
Blanche gingerly brushed off her skirt. She succeeded in getting the second nut. “It’s salty.”
“They roast and salt them before bagging them.” Ike popped another one in his mouth. “The game is starting.” Ike pointed to the field, where nine men had taken positions. The men tossed balls—at least Blanche assumed they were balls. It was hard to tell, as quickly as they sailed through the air. One man stood on a mound in the middle of the diamond, throwing to a man crouched behind a bag. They all wore matching outfits, white with the words “Brownsville Bats” emblazoned in red over a cartoon bat holding a baseball bat. Ike’s hat sported the same ridiculous picture.
Munching on their snacks, they talked and laughed while the team continued throwing balls. Everyone ignored what was happening on the field. Eventually they cleared the field and a brass band marched out.
“Ah, now we’re about to start.”
Mr. Ventura walked in front of the band. Spreading his arms like Blanche imagined a circus ringmaster might, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem.” Seconds later they were singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
As soon as they finished singing, the Bats returned to the field, joined by a man swinging a bat. On the first pitch, his bat connected with the ball.
“Leadoff home run. Not looking good.” Ike popped a piece of caramel corn in his mouth.
Effie patted Blanche’s hand. “Do you understand any of this?”
“Honestly?” Blanche shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll explain it to you.” Ike’s chest seemed to expand as he began explaining the system of hits, balls, strikes, and runs that made the difference between winning and losing.
“So they can make a run two ways. They either hit the ball over the fence into the crowd, where anyone can get hurt.” She pretended offense. A couple of balls had felt like they whizzed by her ears. “Or they can hit the ball and run to the base and try to make it around all four bases.”
Ike opened his mouth, as if ready to explain more. Shaking his head, he said, “There are foul balls and strikes and steals and… but that’s it in a nutshell.”
“And the Bats are winning. They have seven runs, and the Hurricanes only have six.”
“It’s a good thing that the Bats have the last at bat.” Effie popped a peppermint candy into her mouth. “The game is too close to pick a winner yet.”
The game ended with the Bats winning by a final score of nine to six. Smiles wreathed Ike and Effie’s faces, and Blanche felt sure she looked the same. “Come, let’s congratulate Ventura on the win.” Ike offered his arm, and Blanche accepted it.
“Are all the games this exciting?” Blanche heard the breathless sound of her voice, as if she had been the one running the bases instead of the teams.
“Some more, some less. Sometimes the pitchers keep the batters off base. That’s exciting, in a different sort of way.”
The three of them wormed their way through the crowd that was going in the opposite direction, surging toward the gates. Blanche was glad for Ike’s presence. Without him, the noise and the bustle might have paralyzed her.
“Ventura was successful in arranging games in all the towns between here and Roma?”
“They’re looking forward to it.”
“So am I.” If I’m here. Depending on what the absent lawyer had to tell her, she had to find work, soon. The trip on the Cordelia had been enough adventure to satisfy her for two lifetimes.
“There he is.” Ike pointed to the spot where Ventura stood in front of the Bats’ bench. Instead of the smile Blanche expected, a frown creased his face as he spoke with a young lad. He looked vaguely familiar; about the time they reached Ventura, Blanche placed him as one of the young stevedores who had helped unload the boat upon their arrival.
Ventura caught sight of them and gestured for them to draw close. “Jim-boy thought he might catch you here at the game. There’s been an accident.”