THE FINAL SCORE

By: Kenda

 

 

The Final Score is a story within a story to some extent.  It starts during the brothers’ adult years, takes us back to an incident during their childhood, and then returns us to Rick and A.J. as grown men. The Final Score was inspired by the aired episode, Revolution # 9 1/2, and by my story, Revisit the Past. Revisit the Past is posted in the Simon and Simon Library under Cecilia’s Diary. There is also reference made in this story to the aired episode, Zen and the Art of the Split Finger Fastball, in which Rick and A.J. attended Fantasy Baseball Camp.

 

 

 

A.J. Simon was seated at his desk on this Thursday morning in mid- June. He was shuffling through a stack of client reports, sorting out the ones he needed to work on today, while setting aside the ones that were completed and could be filed.

 

The blond detective looked up when the office swung open.

 

“Oh, geez,” Rick groaned, as walked on stiff legs to the coffee pot.  “Damn, that hurts.”

 

As Rick filled his mug, he caught sight of his brother’s bowed head. "What are you smilin' about?"

 

A.J.'s grin broadened when Rick groaned while turning for his desk.  “Nothing. I’m not smiling about anything.” 

 

     The muscles in Rick’s back seized as he eased into his chair.  “Shit.  Oh, shit, did that hurt.” Catching sight of his brother again, Rick asked, "Just what's so damn funny?"  

 

A.J. couldn't help but laugh at Rick's foul mood.

 

"You.”

     “Me?”

“You're moving 1ike you're ninety-years-old this morning. What’s the matter, big brother? Too much baseball this week?"

 

Rick groaned again. "Don’t even say that word in front of me.”

 

“Baseball?”

 

“That’s the one. I swear, A.J., Abigail's gonna be the death of me yet. What she puts us through is inhumane. She’s a slave driver. She's a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s the devil in disguise. "

 

"Oh, come on,” A.J. chuckled. “I think you're exaggerating just a bit. It's not Abby's fault that you're out of shape."

 

"I am not outta shape! No man was meant to run around a baseball

diamond twenty times, do fifty push-ups, and field thirty ground balls, after he's already put in a ten hour day at work."

 

"You've never put in a ten hour day at work in your life," A.J. quipped.

 

“I’d come over there and belt you one for that remark, only it’ll hurt too much to stand up.”

 

A.J. smiled at the threat he knew to be an idle one. "Listen, despite all your moaning and groaning, you'll live. Last night was our final practice, and Saturday is the game. After that, it's all over for another year."

"Thank God. Every year I promise myself I won't let Abby talk me into doin’ this again, and every year I somehow wind up runnin’ laps and playing right field." 

"That's because every year we wind up owing Abby about fifty favors by the time this baseball game rolls around. It's kind of hard to say no." 

 

"Isn't hard for me to say no, little brother, but you sure have a problem with it. You’re the one that always gets us into this." Rick mimicked his sibling. "Sure, Abby, Rick and I will play in the charity softball game again this year. Of course, Rick would just love to play right field."

 

Rick glared at the blond man as his mocking came to an end. "You completely ignored me when I shook my head no while you were on the phone with her."

 

"How could I say no? We do owe her about fifty favors, and something tells me we're going to be in need of a few more before the year is out."

 

"All right...yeah, I suppose you have a point," Rick reluctantly conceded. "It'd be just like Abigail to be stingy where favors are concerned if we don't play in her stupid softball game."

 

"Oh, quit complaining. It's for a good cause." A.J. picked up a stack of reports and leaned across his desk. "Here, help me finish this paperwork. We've got an eleven o'clock appointment with Mr. Schenning at his office, then we have to see a woman named Judy Riley over at the community college about a potential job."

 

"Is there gonna be time for a nap in there anywhere?” Rick yawned, as he eyed the stack of papers he’d just taken from A.J. 

 

"No, but I'm sure you'll manage to take one anyway," A.J. retorted, while beginning his work.

 

Unlike his diligent brother, Rick stared idly at the papers on his desk. He reflected back on the past week of activities that had left him so sore.

This was the third year that Rick and A.J. had been members of the San Diego Police Department's softball team. The police and fire departments set aside one Saturday every June to play a softball game for charity. The money that was raised was given to an inner city organization that worked to keep youths out of street gangs, and interested in other, more wholesome, activities. Both the police and fire departments willingly participated in this worthwhile cause. Those members who didn't play ball, and weren’t on duty, were pressed in to service as ticket sellers, peanut and popcorn vendors, and hotdog and soda stand operators.

Rick and A.J. had gotten drafted on to the team in 1988, the same year they had worked a case that had them playing baseball at Fantasy Camp. Upon Abby's discovery that both brothers had played Little League ball, and then as adults had played in a softball league for a number of years, she let the detectives know she expected them to play on the team she had been drafted to coach for this charity event.

 

Right from the start, A.J. was enthusiastic about the idea, while Rick suspected having Abby for a coach was not going to be a pleasant experience. He was right. The first year he and A.J. had played, and each year since, there had been five practices leading up to the game. By the time the final practice came to an end that first year, Rick had told A.J., "Geez, Abby makes Coach Jensen look like Little Bo Peep." Hal Jensen had been the brothers' high school gym teacher and football coach. Rick had always said the man would have sent Hitler screaming for his mother, had he been in Germany during World War II.

 

Rick had soon discovered as well, that Abigail Marsh didn't believe in player-coaches, as Rick had been at Fantasy Camp.

 

"I'm the only coach here, Simon," she had informed the detective as he tried to weasel his way out of laps and push-ups. After two days of being dissatisfied with Rick's performance at second base, Abby had yelled from the sidelines, "I thought you had played this game before, Richard! My grandmother can field a ball better than you, and she’s eighty-years-old!"

 

A.J. had laughed from the pitcher’s mound. “Rick spent more time under the bleachers with Betty Carol Simmons, than he ever spent playing second base, Abby."

 

It was then that time Rick's permanent position became right field. A position he complained about every year, because of the lack of activity that came his way. Abby chose to ignore his grumbling, as she repeatedly pointed to right field and ordered, "Get out there, Simon, and look alive."

 

But, despite all of Rick's moaning and groaning, the brothers did enjoy themselves at this annual event, and at the practices that led up to it. The first year Rick and A.J. had played, the police department's team had lost by a heartbreaking score of six to five, with A.J. pitching the entire seven innings. The next year the department's team had won, again with A.J. pitching all seven innings. This year Abby had her heart set on another victory, thereby making her a, “hardened coach with a mission,” as Rick had told his brother one evening after practice. “A mission to cripple me for life, if she doesn’t kill me first.”

 

Focusing back on the stack of papers in front of him, Rick glanced at his watch. He knew he'd better get to work if they were going to be leaving the office soon.

 

The only thing worse than having Abby upset with me, is having A.J. upset with me, Rick thought, as he bit back another groan while reaching for his pen.

 

_____________

 

 

Saturday was warm and sunny, bringing with it perfect weather for a baseball game. It was eighty degrees by the time the bleachers began to fill at noon in anticipation of the one o'clock starting time. Rick was standing off to one side of home plate, eating a hotdog and watching his team take batting and fielding practice. A.J. was on the pitcher’s mound. He lobbed the ball softly across the plate so his teammates could get some good hits, and at the same time saving his arm for when he'd really need it.

 

Rick observed his various teammates, all dressed in blue jeans and each wearing a white Major League style baseball jersey that had written across the front in blue lettering, San Diego Police Department. The matching blue caps they wore had the initials S.D.P.D. across the top.  

Rick leaned against the batting cage while he appreciated the rear end of a female team member who was now at bat. He jumped when a voice sounded in his left ear. 

“Simon, what are you doing standing here? There's no one out in right field!"

 

"Geez, Abby, you scared the crap outta me." 

 

"Well?" Abby questioned. “What are doing just standing around?”

 

"I'm eatin’ a hotdog, what does it look like I’m doin’?"

 

Abby crossed her arms over her chest. “Eating a hotdog, huh? While your teammates are practicing?”

 

"You don't expect me to play on an empty stomach, do you? Even Major League players get to eat before a game, Abigail. Besides, nothing's goin' on out in right field. You can take my word on that."

 

"You should be taking batting practice then," the coach informed her player."

 

“I already did."

"You call that batting practice? You were only up to the plate once, Rick, and you struck out!"

 

"Well, now, I can't get a hit off my own brother, can I?” Rick licked ketchup from his fingers and tossed his empty hotdog wrapper in a nearby garbage barrel. “I mean, ever since A.J. was just a little guy and pitched to me, I've always struck out in order to make him feel good. If I got a hit off of him today, Abby, I'm likely to throw his whole game outta whack."

 

"Simon, you drive me crazy sometimes! That's the stupidest line of bull I've ever heard. Now get in right field!" 

 

The lieutenant turned and stomped away from Rick as A.J. approached. He was ready to give his arm a rest, and take a little batting practice from the cop that took over for him on the pitcher’s mound.

 

The blond man took the half empty soda container Rich handed him, draining the remainder of the Pepsi in four swallows.

 

"You know, A.J.,” Rick said, as he watched Abby sort equipment in the dugout, “I think Abby takes steroids."

 

“What?”  

 

“Really, I think she does. If you want my opinion, she's totally wacko over this stupid baseball game."

 

"She's just competitive, Rick. It's important to her that the department does well. Your problem is, that you like to get her dander up. I haven't heard anyone else complain about her."

 

"I don't like to get her dander up! She gets my dander up! Take now, for example. I was standin’ here minding my own business when she got all over my case just ‘cause I was eatin’ lunch.”

 

“You were supposed to be in right field.”

 

“A little family loyalty would be nice,” Rick growled. “Especially considering I let you finish off my Pepsi.”

 

“Oh, now that was big of you.”

 

 Before the bickering could continue, the detectives heard, "Rick!" "A.J.!" called from the stands. They looked up to see their mother waving at them.

 

A.J. smiled and waved.  "Hi, Mom!"

 

"Hey, Mom!" Rick called.

 

Abby had spotted Cecilia as well, and was headed to say hello to her. Upon seeing this, Rick said, "I’d better get to right field before Abby tells Mom on me.” He clapped his sibling on the shoulder. “Pitch us a good game, little brother."

 

"I'll give it my best shot," A.J. promised, as Rick jogged across the manicured grounds to take his position.

 

_____________________

 

 

At the start of the fifth inning, the police department was ahead by a score of three to one. Although the game was competitive, it was also fun. Friendly insults and teasing flew back and forth between the teams as the game progressed.

 

Those in attendance were primarily family and friends of the players, as well as members of the police and fire departments, and employees of other city organizations. Those factors caused the crowd to be rowdy, and join in on the teasing and good-natured cat calling. Abby observed all of this from the sidelines. She was pleased that, as usual, this charity event was a big success, and an enjoyable day for all in attendance.

 

A woman from the fire department team was on first base as their clean-up hitter took the plate.  The batter was a mammoth fireman from Truck Company 22, by the name of Dan. The man stood six foot four, and was two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. This was the same man who had batted in the team's one and only run. The pressure was now on Dan to drive in another run for the fire department, just like there was pressure on A.J. to keep the fire department’s score as it currently was.

Cheers and calls of encouragement could be heard for Dan, along with, "Come on, A.J., strike him out!"

"Get him out of there, A.J.!"

“Put him away, A.J.!”

And, one last shout that came from right field, "Come on, A.J., show him what you're made of!"

The count on Dan was at two balls and one strike when A.J. wound up and pitched a hard, fastball into the strike zone.  The blond man never knew what hit him. He would later remember hearing the crack of the bat, but had no memory of what followed.

Dan swung at the ball and connected solidly, sending a line drive straight at A.J.'s head. The detective hadn’t straightened yet from his pitcher’s stance, when the ball walloped him in the middle of his forehead. A.J.’s cap flew off as the force of the blow lifted him from the ground and threw him backwards. He landed behind the pitcher’s mound, sprawled on his back.

Rick had taken a few steps in from right field when his brother was beaned, then began running as he observed how still A.J. was, and realized that the blond was unable to rise. By the time Rick arrived at the mound most of the police department team, as well as some of the firemen, were standing in a circle around A.J.

Rick pushed his way through the crowd. When he arrived at the inner circle, he saw that A.J. had pushed himself into a half standing position. Abby and Dan were supporting the injured man by holding onto his arms.

"A.J., are you all right?” Abby questioned. “A.J., answer me! Come on, A.J., talk to me.  Are you all right? A.J., I think you'd better lie down."

 

A.J. staggered on legs that crisscrossed as though he were drunk.  Dan moved back as Rick approached and allowed the detective to grasp A.J.'s left arm. Rick realized then, that Dan had been supporting most of A.J.'s weight. Rick got a firmer grip on his brother, keeping one hand beneath A.J.’s armpit, while wrapping the other around his bicep.

 

"A.J.?” Rick questioned. “A.J., are you okay? A.J.?"

 

A.J. didn't respond to Rick, just as he hadn't yet responded Abby. His knees buckled as he staggered in a circle.

 

“A.J.? A.J., come on, answer me." Rick demanded, while giving his brother’s arm a firm tug.  “A.J.!”

 

A.J. finally turned at the sound of Rick’s voice. Immediately, Rick could tell that A.J.’s eyes weren’t able to focus on him.

"A.J., it's Rick. Come on, talk to me, little brother. Are you okay? A.J.?”

For just a brief second A.J. seemed to rise to some level of awareness.  He looked at his brother and mumbled, "Rick," right before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into Rick’s arms.

A fireman ran from the hotdog stand and identified himself as a paramedic, while a cop ran to one of the squad cars in the parking lot in order to summon an ambulance. The crowd in the bleachers murmured in hushed tones as they watched the upsetting event unfold before them. Cecilia made her way down to the field. She hurried across the diamond and knelt beside Rick and Abby. A.J. was unconscious and his face a pasty shade of white. The only color to his skin was the large red circle in the middle of his forehead where the ball had struck him.

 

The paramedic took A.J.'s pulse and lifted his eyelids to look at his pupils. "What's his name?” the man asked Rick. “A.J.?"

 

"Yeah." 

The paramedic spoke loudly to the unaware blond man. "A.J.! A.J., wake up! A.J., can you hear me?”

When the man got no response, he looked at Rick again. "You're his brother?" At Rick's nod, the paramedic instructed, "Try talking to him again. If we can get him to come around, and get him to stay with us, we’ll be better off."

Rick nodded his understanding. "A.J.! A.J., come on, wake up. A.J.! A.J., I need to talk to you. A.J., wake up! A.J.!"

 

While they waited for the ambulance, both Cecilia and Rick tried to get A.J. to wake up, but their efforts were wasted on the unconscious man.  A paramedic squad arrived ahead of the ambulance, and within five minutes time, A.J.’s vital signs had been taken, an I.V. of saline had been started, a cervical collar had been place around his neck, and the hospital had been contacted to notify them of an incoming head trauma victim.  Rick assisted the paramedics in keeping his brother’s spine straight as they log rolled him onto a backboard.

 

 It wasn't until the backboard was being lifted to a stretcher, that A.J.’s eyes opened briefly. However, he didn't seem to recognize his mother or brother, and after his eyes had lethargically traveled between the anxious faces hovering over him, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

After A.J. was put in the ambulance, Rick took his mother by the hand and led her to her Mercedes. He opened the passenger side door for her, then ran around to the driver's side and got in behind the wheel. Rick took the key his mother handed him, started the vehicle, and drove out of the parking lot with Abby right behind. He followed the ambulance to County General Hospital, praying throughout the entire drive that A.J. would be all right.  

 

 

"Mom! Hey, Mom!" ten-year-old A.J. shouted as he searched the house for his mother.  “Mom!”

 

"I'm out here, A.J.!" Cecilia called from the backyard.

 

A.J. ran through the kitchen and opened the sliding screen door that led to the patio. He bounded out into the June sunshine.

 

Looking up from the flowerbed she was weeding at the end of the patio, Cecilia smiled. "How was practice?"

 

A.J. smiled back. "Real good! Coach Krieger says we're gonna be a hard team to beat this year."

 

"That's wonderful news. You boys have worked so hard this spring. See, all that time you've spent practicing is going to payoff."

 

A.J. sat down on the step next to where his mother was working, his knees poking through the holes of his well-worn blue jeans. The boy watched his mother pull weeds and said quietly, "Mr. Krieger wants me to be the starting pitcher tomorrow."

 

Cecilia looked up and scrutinized her son’s face.  "How do you feel about that?"

A.J. didn't make a reply to his mother, and as the silence lengthened, Cecilia became certain that he wasn't going to.

 

Jack Simon had been killed in a car accident ten months earlier. A.J. had been with his father that night, and the months since that tragic event had been very difficult for the boy. The last thing father and son had done together was spend the morning sharpening A.J.'s pitching skills, then spent the afternoon at A.J.'s Little League game.  That day, Jack Simon watched for the first and last time, his youngest son pitch and win a baseball game. Immediately following Jack's death, A.J. wouldn't even mention baseball, let alone play it. Several months had passed before the boy finally picked up his mitt again, but even then he couldn't bring himself to pitch. Cecilia knew A.J. had refused to do so for his school’s intramurals team, and had chosen to play shortstop instead.

 

Seeing the pain on her son's face now as she awaited his answer, Cecilia knew the sorrow A.J. felt at his father's passing was far from dealt with. She gently laid a hand on A.J.' s knee as she moved to sit next to him on the step. "A.J.?"

 

A.J. looked down at his tennis shoes and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'll pitch. I told Coach Krieger I would. Rick's been helpin' me practice a lot this week, and he told me he's countin' on me winning the game tomorrow, so I guess I kinda have to."

 

"Honey, you don't have to pitch tomorrow if you don't want to. You and I can both talk to Coach Krieger about it. And Rick won't mind, either. He'll understand. He knows how difficult this is for you right now."

 

Evidently A.J. had already made a decision on his own concerning this matter. He looked at his mother and stated firmly, "No, Mom, I'll pitch. I want to. I'm gonna do it for Daddy."

Cecilia smiled softly at her son as she put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a little squeeze. "Daddy would be so proud of you, A.J. I have a feeling he'll see you pitch tomorrow."

"You mean from Heaven?"  

 

Cecilia's eyes blurred for just a moment with unshed tears. “Yes."

 

A.J. nodded. "Yeah, Mom, I think he'll see me, too. I like to think that anyway, even though I guess it sounds kinda dumb."

 

"I don't think it sounds dumb. I think it makes a lot of sense."

 

Again, A.J. nodded as he and his mother sat together a few minutes longer in the afternoon sunshine. Finally, the youngster changed the subject. "Where's Rick and Uncle Ray?"

 

"They went to the auto-parts store to get some things. Uncle Ray is going to help Rick give my car a tune-up."

 

"Is Uncle Ray still coming to my game tomorrow?"

 

"Of course, he is. He promised, didn't he? We're all going to be

there, sweetheart. We wouldn't miss the first game of the season for anything. Your mother can't wait to see her star pitcher take the mound."

 

A.J. rolled his eyes at his mom’s last remark. "Mom, I'm not that good."

 

"Sure, you are. And someday when you're a famous Major League pitcher, your old mother is going to sit in the stands and tell people how she used to diaper your bottom, and how you used to take your teddy bear every where you went." 

 

Mortified at that thought, the ten-year-old exclaimed, "Mom! Don't ever do that to me! Never!"

 

Cecilia laughed as she tousled her son's shaggy hair, then glanced at her watch. "It's almost four thirty. Mrs. Owens will be here to pick you up in an hour. You'd better get inside and take a shower, you're filthy. Did you pack what you needed for tonight?"

 

"Yeah, I'm ready to go.” A.J. was spending the night at a teammate's house, along with two other boys. Kind of a pre-game slumber party, as Cecilia thought of it.

As A.J. stood to go in the house and shower, Cecilia reminded him, "Don't forget to take your uniform. I hung it up on the back of your bedroom door. You won't be coming home until after the game tomorrow, so if there's anything else you need, don't forget to pack it in your duffel bag."

 

"Yeah, Mom, I know,” A.J. assured, as he entered the house. “I won't forget anything." 

 

Cecilia began gathering up her gardening tools. She put them away in the garage, then went into the house, too. She had a plate of cookies and plate of brownies to wrap that she was sending with her son, so Mrs. Owens didn't have to feed four hungry boys without some assistance.

 

As Cecilia washed her hands at the kitchen sink, she thought of how thankful she was. Even as short as two months ago, she didn’t think A.J. would be willing to play baseball this summer, let alone pitch.  As a result of his own inner tenacity, the boy had managed to conquer another milestone in regards to his father’s death. 

 

I’m so glad Ray kept his promise, and is here to see A.J. pitch the first game of the season.  Ray’s presence will mean so much to A.J., and it would have meant so much to Jack to know that Ray will be there tomorrow in his place.

 

Cecilia wiped her hands on a clean towel and then got out the wax paper.  To the sound of water drumming in the shower overhead, she wrapped the snacks she was sending with A.J. when he left the house.

 

 

 

_____________________

 

 

Noontime the following day, found Ray, Cecilia, and Rick sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch. A.J.'s game didn't start until two o'clock, so they were in no hurry to finish. 

 

Cecilia listened to Rick and Ray tease one another, and was once again glad that Ray had made this visit. He had stayed with her and the boys for three weeks the previous fall after Jack had passed away, and at that time he had told the boys he'd come back when the school year ended for another extended stay. It was then, that Ray had promised A.J. he'd be here for the first Little League game of the season. Cecilia was pleased to see Ray keeping that vow. With Ray, a promise of any kind couldn't always be taken to heart. 

 

Cecilia was brought back to the present, as Ray commented, "Ricky did a real good job on your car, Cece. I didn't do anything more than hand him a few tools. You've got yourself a heck of a mechanic here."

 

"That I do," Cecilia confirmed, while Rick beamed with pride. "Mr. Garwood raves about the work Rick does for him at the gas station."

 

Rick had turned sixteen in April, and had gotten a job at the corner gas station working after school, and on weekends. Now that school was out for the summer, he worked additional hours. Rick’s goal was to have enough money saved by his seventeenth birthday to buy a motorcycle.

 

Cecilia was proud of her teenager, and the way he was taking his job so seriously - somewhat of an unusual event for her Rick. She had also been surprised at how diligently he was putting most of his paycheck into the bank each week. Again, this was a side of Rick she hadn't often seen in the past. On the other hand, Cecilia realized her oldest was growing up, and that she was bound to continue to see changes in him as he finished out his high school years. Jack's death had changed Rick, too. She couldn't deny that. It seemed to Cecilia that Rick had left the last traces of childhood behind that night his father died, as he tried so hard to take Jack's place for both her and A.J. She had no doubt her husband would be just as proud of Rick as she was.

 

"Well, Ricky, maybe you’ll be a full-time mechanic in a couple of years, uh?" Ray asked. 

 

"College first," Cecilia said firmly.

 

Rick made a face at his mother's words. "I wanna travel, Uncle Ray. Just like you. I wanna see a lot of different places, do a lot of different things, even work a lot of different jobs. I don't think I just wanna do one thing all the time. At least not for a while, anyway."

 

Rick's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Ray was about to respond just as enthusiastically, when he caught the look his sister-in-law threw him that said, "Don't encourage him."

 

Ray cleared his throat. "Yes...well, Rick, you can see a lot of different things when you travel, that's true. But you never have a place you can really call home. I miss that sometimes. And some of the jobs I've had didn’t pay very well - hardly enough to get a room and eat on. Your mom's right. College is important. Your dad really hoped you'd go to college some day. He started saving for it when you were just a baby. You really should get your education first, then make a decision about traveling when you're a little older."

 

Rick simply nodded at his uncle's words, as he focused his attention on his ham sandwich. He had already had numerous arguments with his mother over the issue of college attendance, and wasn't about to get into another one in front of his uncle. Besides, Rick was wise enough to know what had just transpired. His mom had sent out strong signals to Uncle Ray concerning Rick furthering his education, and Uncle Ray had picked up on them and had been smart enough to play the game out to the end, choosing the words carefully that Cecilia wanted to hear. None of it really mattered to Rick, though. He had already made up his mind about college, and knew that he wouldn't be attending. At least not in two years, as his mother hoped. The teenager was thankful that before the discussion could continue, the phone rang. Cecilia got up to answer it. After hearing the caller’s request, she held the receiver out to her brother-in-law.

 

"It's for you, Ray."

 

Cecilia and Rick tactfully ignored Ray's conversation, as Rick helped his mom clear the table. Cecilia had just started washing the dishes, and had assigned Rick the task of drying, when Ray hung up the phone.

 

"I've got to throw my things together! I've got a plane to catch.

 

"What?" Cecilia questioned as she turned around, her hands still immersed in soapy water.  Ray had been visiting for two weeks, and had planned on staying another two, as far as Cecilia knew.

 

"That was a call from my partner. I need to get down to Aruba. He just heard there's big money to made with this year's seaweed harvest, and now's the time it has to be done."

"Wow!" Rick exclaimed, eyes twinkling. “Neat!”

"Today, Ray? You have to leave today?"

"Yep, Cece, I'm afraid so. There's lots of papers I have to sign, and lots of red tape I have to untangle before I can set all of this in motion.”

 

Cecilia shook her head at her wayward brother-in-law and his latest scheme. "Ray, what in the world do people even use seaweed for?"

 

"I don't know. Something important, I'm sure. I didn't ask. All I know is, there's lots of money to be made at it, and I've got to get a flight out today."

 

Cecilia had to bite her tongue to keep from making a sharp comment to Ray concerning all the other business deals he had been excited about over the years, that he was certain would bring him great wealth. Not once had he made much more than two hundred dollars, and more often than not, he ended up borrowing money from Jack in order to get himself out of some silly venture.

 

As much as Rick hated to see his uncle's visit cut short, visions of all the money Ray was about to make danced in his head. This was what Rick loved about his Uncle Ray. He was a free man, able to come and going as he pleased. A new adventure awaited him around every corner. This was what Rick saw for himself in just two short years.

 

"Come on, Ricky, help me pack."

 

Ray hurried from the kitchen with Rick at his heels. The excited teenager trailed his uncle to the upper story of the house, asking one question after another about the new business deal Ray was about to embark on.

 

Cecilia turned back to her dishes as the two left the room. Her jaw remained clenched, and pots and pans were banged louder than necessary, as she finished cleaning up.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Ray and Rick ran down the stairs carrying Ray's suitcases.

 

"Call me a cab please, Ricky. My plane leaves in an hour."

 

Cecilia stood in the living room waiting to confront her brother-in-law. “Ray, you promised A.J. that you'd be at his baseball game this afternoon."

 

Regret crossed Ray's face. “Ooops.  I guess with all the excitement, I forgot. Well, he'll understand, Cece. You just tell him Uncle Ray said good luck, and that I'll send him lots of money when I strike it rich."

 

Ray's words only served to make Cecilia angrier at what she perceived to be his total lack of responsibility. She was so furious with the man, that Cecilia knew if she said anything else to him right now it would be something that would cause a permanent rift between them. Because of that fact, and the fact that Rick was off the telephone and standing next to his uncle, Cecilia bit her tongue. She wasn't going to have it out with Ray in front of her teenage son. She knew anything she had to say to her brother-in-law at this moment wouldn't be nice, and Rick loved the man too much for Cecilia to subject him to a falling out between her and Ray.

 

"The cab will be here in a few minutes, Uncle Ray."

 

"Great, Ricky. Thanks."

 

“I wish you coulda' stayed longer."

 

"Me too, Ricky. Me too. But you understand, don't you? This is a one in a million opportunity, and it just came up out of the blue."

 

"Sure, I understand." 

 

Ray reached into his wallet. "To help you understand even better, here's this. You put this money toward that motorcycle you want.”

 

"Wow! Fifty dollars!” Rick held the bill between his hands and stared at it.  “Thanks, Uncle Ray."

 

"Ray!" Cecilia exclaimed. Ray ignored Cecilia as he handed Rick another ten dollar bill. "And you give this to Andy for me. You tell him Uncle Ray said goodbye, and to get himself anything he wants with that."

 

"Okay,” Rick promised. “I will." 

"Ray, no! Absolutely not! I can't--"

"Cece, don't worry, I'll be fair to the boys. When Andy is Rick's age, and saving for a motorcycle or a car, I'll give him fifty dollars, too."

 

“Ray, that's not what I was going to say. That's not the point. I don't want you giving either of the boys money. I don't think it's--” 

 

"Cece, come on. Let me spoil them a little. They're good boys."

 

Once again, Cecilia was both angry and disgusted. She wasn't sure if Ray realized it or not, but he was trying to buy the boys' love. At least as far as she was concerned he was. It appeared to her as though Ray was trying to make up for all the times he wasn’t there for the boys. Since his arrival two weeks ago, he had showered Rick and A.J. with expensive gifts that they didn’t need, and that Cecilia knew he didn’t have the funds for. He had also sent several expensive presents through the mail since Jack’s death. How she longed to say now, "Ray, the boys don’t want your money, or your gifts. All they want is you, and your time. I know you feel guilty because you hardly ever see them. It’s obvious to me. You know how much they need you now that Jack’s gone. Why can’t you settle down here in San Diego? Why can’t you be the man in their lives that they’ve been lacking since Jack’s death? Why can’t you be a father to them?"

 

But because her words would have no influence on Ray, and because of Rick’s presence, Cecilia kept her peace. 

 

A car horn blared from the driveway.

 

“There’s my ride,” Ray said.  “I’ve gotta go."

 

Ray gave Cecilia a kiss on the cheek without taking notice of her anger, and then hugged Rick.

 

"Tell Andy goodbye, and give him a hug for me, too,” Ray instructed Cecilia as he picked up his suitcases.

 

Cecilia nodded. "All right. Goodbye, Ray.

 

Rick walked his uncle out to the cab, prolonging the parting as much as possible. The teenager reentered the house when the cab finally disappeared down the street.

 

"Go put that money away, Rick, before you lose it. Then get ready to go, please. A.J.'s game starts in forty-five minutes."

 

Rick noticed his mother’s cold aura, but didn’t understand what her anger was over. 

 

Must be the money Uncle Ray gave me and A.J. Mom’s been on his case ever since he got her about buyin’ us stuff and spoilin’ us.

 

The teenager trotted up the stairs. He put the fifty dollars away in his dresser drawer, then pocketed A.J.’s ten so he could give it to his brother at the ball diamond. Rick put on a clean t-shirt and combed his hair, just in case there were any interesting girls in the bleachers today, then ran out to the car where his mother was waiting for him.

 

_____________________

 

 

A.J. was warming up when Rick and Cecilia arrived. They found seats

in the stands next to Bud and Edie Krelman.

 

At least one man has kept his promise to A.J. today, Cecilia thought.

 

Bud had made a big deal over this opening game, promising Jack Simon's youngest son that he'd be in attendance to cheer him on. Bud and Edie had four sons of their own, the youngest of whom were twins a year older than Rick. Cecilia knew Bud had sat through plenty of Little League games in his day, and was probably glad such obligations were almost a thing of the past now that his twins would be seniors in high school come September.  That reason alone made her all the more grateful that Bud had given up a Saturday afternoon to be here for a boy who wasn’t his.

 

Unlike that boy’s uncle, who couldn’t see fit to be here at all, were the woman’s bitter thoughts.

 

A few minutes later, A.J.'s coach called to the youngster to come in off the mound and rest until the game started. A.J. looked around for his family. He waved and ran to them when he spotted Rick and Cecilia in the stands.

 

The boy climbed up the bleachers and took a seat next to Rick.