"Hey, I got by." She passed back the cigar. She didn't know why she'd told him, except that it was quiet here, and he listened well. "The thing is, Jared, I've been thinking more about my father in the last day or so than I have in years. You can't imagine what eight thousand dollars would have meant to me ten years ago. Five." With a shrug, she pushed back her hair. "Hell, there was a time eight dollars would have made the difference between— Well, it doesn't matter."
Without thinking, he laid a hand over hers. "Sure it does."
She frowned down at their hands, then slowly, casually, slipped hers away and stood. "The thing is, I have Bryan to think of. So I'll talk this over with him."
"Let me state the obvious again. You've done a terrific job raising your son."
She smiled. "We've raised each other. But thanks. I'll be in touch."
"Savannah." He rose, faced her on the path. "This is a good town, mostly a kind one. No one has to be alone here unless they want to."
"That's something else I have to think about. I'll see you around, Lawyer MacKade."
Jared hadn't been to a Little League game in years. When he pulled up at the park just outside of town and absorbed the scents and sounds, he wondered why. The single swatch of wooden stands was crowded and noisy. And kids who weren't on the field were running and racing behind the low chain-link fence or wrestling under the shade of the stands.
The concession hut drew others, with the smell of steaming hot dogs and sloppy joes.
He pulled his car behind the long line of others along the bumpy shoulder of the narrow road and walked across the uneven grass. He had an eye peeled for Savannah, but it was little Connor Dolin who caught his gaze.
The pale-haired boy was waiting quietly in line for food, staring at his feet as a couple of burly older kids harassed him.
"Hey, it's nerd brain Dolin. How's your old man like his cell?"
Connor stood stoically as they bumped and shoved him. The woman ahead of him in line turned and clucked her tongue at them, which had no effect at all.
"Why don't you bake him a cake with a file in it, butthead? Bet a wussy like you bakes a real good cake."
"Hey, Connor." Jared stepped up, aimed one look that had the two bullies scrambling away. "How's it going?"
"Okay." Humiliation had stained his cheeks, fear of abuse had dampened his palms around the money he clutched. "I'm supposed to get hot dogs and stuff."
"Mm-hmm." In the way of males, Jared knew better than to mention what he'd just seen. "How come you're not playing ball?"
"I'm not any good." It was said matter-of-factly. He was much too used to being told he wasn't any good to question it. "But Bryan's playing. Bryan Morningstar. He's the best on the team."
"Is he?" Touched by the sudden light in those shy gray eyes, Jared reached out to flip up the visor of Connor's ball cap. The boy jerked instinctively, went still, and reminded Jared that life had not been all ball games and hot dogs for this nine-year-old. "I'm looking forward to watching him," Jared continued, as if the moment had never happened. "What position does he play?"
Ashamed of his own cowardice, Connor studied the ground again. "Shortstop."
"Yeah? I used to play short."
"You did?" Astonished by the idea, Connor just stared.
"That's right. Devin played third, and—"
"Sheriff MacKade played baseball?" Now the astonishment was mixed with a pure case of hero worship. "I bet he was real good."
"He was okay." It pricked the pride, just a little, to remember he'd never been able to outhit, or outfield, Devin. "How many dogs you want, Connor?"
"I've got money. Mom gave me money. And Ms. Morningstar." He fumbled with the bills. "I'm supposed to get one for her, too. With mustard."
"It's my treat." Jared held up three fingers at the vendor as Bryan worried his lip a
nd stared at his money. "This way I get to hang out with you and Ms. Morningstar."
Jared handed the boy the first hot dog, watched him carefully, deliberately squeeze on a line of bright yellow mustard. "Are your mother and sister here?"
"No, sir. Mom's working, and Emma's with her down at the diner. She said it was okay for me to come down and watch, though."