Page 54 of Bourbon Truths
I scanned the parents sitting in their camping chairs, lounging over coolers, and talking to each other while watching their children attempt to play baseball.
The first field was occupied by two teams wearing a hodge-podge of clothes, but you could tell one team was supposed to be yellow and the other orange. I didn’t see anyone who resembled Linda Duncan, so I turned my attention to the second field, where teams of gray and purple played against each other. There was a huddle of parents on one side, drinking from their water bottles and laughing, but I didn’t see Linda there either. I was about to turn to the third field when I heard a bunch of parents clap and start cheering for Madeline.
“Knock them in, Madeline!” a stout man called while he fist-pumped the air.
I spotted the little girl who’d been haunting my dreams. She wore a pair of jean shorts that were entirely too big on her and hoisted up around her waist with a pink belt. Her large purple jersey was tucked in, and the white shoes with pink laces she was wearing were marked with dirt.
She grabbed a bat from the ground and pushed up a helmet so she could see where she was going. She was tiny, too fucking tiny. It broke my heart in half.
“Come on, Madeline. You got this, baby,” said a woman behind me.
Just before I looked behind me, Linda Duncan brushed past me on her way to the field, holding a bag of orange slices. My heart seized in my chest as the widow of the man whose life I’d taken passed me, her brown hair lifting in the light breeze. She was still too thin, but from the brief glance I got of her face, the dark circles were gone and she wore a bright smile.
Confusion hit me hard as I wondered why she looked so free, so happy. I glanced over at Madeline, who held the aluminum bat in one hand and pushed on her helmet again with the other. Freckles graced her cheeks and a tiny smile spread across her face when she saw her mom walking toward the field. Madeline raised her hand and waved at her mom with excitement. Linda gave her a thumbs-up and pointed at the field.
With determination, Madeline nodded and lifted the bat, barely able to hold the metal tube with her little arms.
“Is that them?” Jett asked.
Not able to speak over the knot in my throat, I nodded and stepped closer as Madeline waited for a ball to be placed on the tee in front of her.
Runners loaded the bases, waiting for Madeline to take her chance at a swing.
“Play ball,” one of the coaches yelled.
Loading up, she swung, making direct contact with the tee and missing the ball completely.
“Strike one,” the umpire called, putting the ball back on the tee.
Madeline ducked her head as she realized she’d zeroed in on the wrong target.
My stomach pitched at the look of defeat in her stance.
Linda went closer on the sidelines and bent so Madeline could see her. “Baby, you got this. Keep your eyes on the ball and swing hard, just like we practiced. You can do this, baby.”
Madeline lifted her gaze to her mom, adjusted her helmet again, and nodded. She lifted the bat that was entirely too large for her and got in her stance.
“Play ball,” the umpire called again.
Madeline took a deep breath and swung again, this time making contact with the ball just as her helmet fell forward.
“Run, Madeline, run!” Linda cried.
Comically, Madeline lifted her helmet and looked around, finally spotting the ball she’d hit toward the shortstop. Like a baby giraffe running for the first time, she took off toward third base, colliding with her teammate in the base path. The crowd laughed as the coaches and Linda told Madeline to run the other way.
Madeline scrambled to her feet and cut across the diamond to the other side of the field, where she touched first base before the other team was able to toss the ball in the right direction.
The whole attempt had been a clusterfuck of “what the hell do I do with this ball.”
“That was funny,” Jett said to me. I could hear the smile in his voice, and fuck if my lips didn’t twitch to the side in amusement.
This was not what I’d wanted to see. I didn’t want to see Linda leaping up and down, cheering for her daughter with a carefree attitude. I didn’t want to see little Madeline prevail and do well. It was like they still had their husband/father, as if I hadn’t robbed them of one of the most important people in their lives.
“This isn’t right,” I mumbled to Jett, turning away.
“What do you mean?” Jett asked, walking next to me.
“They’re… happy.” I gestured toward them. “They’re fucking happy.”
