Chapter 34 Jesse

I 'd gotten one of the Books and Broomsticks coupons as part of Sam's mailer campaign. She'd even set up a way for people to book their "Thinning of the Veil" readings online using their coupon.

She is killing it .

I wanted to feel like I'd helped, but she was unstoppable when she wanted something. Impulsively, I scheduled a tarot reading for Halloween, or Samhain, as it said on the flyer. It was also smart of her to include a pronunciation key because I absolutely would have said "Sam-Hane" instead of "Sow-in." Anyhow, I booked the appointment under Captain Cerulean SeaWolf, the not-at-all-over-the-top name of the pirate in our now-shared book, and I had a whole idea forming for my Halloween costume.

I left the office to check on the floor when I saw Coach Brown chatting with Bryan at the checkout.

"Hey! Just the man I was looking for," Coach Brown called when he saw me approaching.

"Hey, Coach, good to see you again. How's that list coming?"

"Well, every time I check something off, something else gets put on, so I don't know if that's good or bad. Either way, Claire told me to invite you to dinner tonight. I told her it was short notice and you're a young man who probably has a social calendar to keep, so don't you go feeling obligated, but she is making pot pie. Just in case that sways your opinion."

The dark skin around his eyes crinkled in pride for his wife's cooking.

"I would be crazy to turn it down. What time do you want me there, and what can I bring?"

He assured me to just bring myself, but I'd already decided to at least pick up some flowers, if nothing else. The idea of sitting down and reminiscing about baseball actually filled me with warmth instead of dread for the first time since my injury.

I left Heather to close that evening so I could go home to shower and put on a button-down shirt of some kind. Claire was a stickler about dinner etiquette, at least she was when they used to host team meals, anyway.

I stopped in at our local flower shop and picked a bouquet that the florist assured me was a beautiful fall arrangement for Claire. Before I paid, I stopped in front of a Halloween display and knew that I had to get something for Sam and drop it off, even if I didn't get to talk to her. I had no idea what any of the flowers were, but they were labeled as Full Moon Magic, Witch's Potion Petals, and Wednesday Addams. The Witch's Potion Petals had a mixture of black and purple flowers with a couple of shockingly bright pink blooms. That one looked like it would fit right in at Broomsticks.

"Would you like these delivered? Or did you want to take them as well?"

"Oh, I guess I didn't even think of that. Yeah, actually, if they could be delivered just across the street to Books and Broomsticks ? That would be perfect."

"Absolutely! I was headed there after work anyway because I got their new flyer! I won't even charge you for the delivery since I won't need to add them to the truck tomorrow."

I just grinned at how perfectly that fell into place, and I figured I should thank my "people," as Sam would say. I left for Coach's house feeling optimistic that Sam would at least have a difficult time ignoring me after the flowers and the tarot reading I was scheduled for the following night.

"MRS. brOWN, THANK YOU so much for the dinner invite. You've saved me from a frozen lasagna."

I handed her the flowers and accepted her hug when she opened the door.

"Jesse Garrett, you know better than to call me Mrs. Brown. That was my mother-in-law, and God rest her soul, that's not me."

"My apologies. Claire."

"Better. And, if I hear about you eating frozen lasagna again, I'm liable to set up a dinner rotation with the ladies in my bridge club. So, you best learn how to cook, or you're going to have a whole host of elderly women knocking at your door."

"While that doesn't sound terrible, I promise I will try."

"Good. Now, come in and sit down and tell me what you'd like to drink."

She ushered me into their home, and while it was smaller than the one they'd had when they'd previously lived in Emberwood, it felt the same. It smelled like freshly baked bread and cinnamon. Claire was always dressed in her Sunday best no matter where she went, and tonight was no exception. She reminded me of Claire Huxtable more than a little bit.

Coach Brown regaled me with tales from the last decade of coaching, and it made me miss the game so much my chest ached. He was always the coach that cared about your mental state first and your stats second. The pot pie was also maybe the best thing I'd ever eaten, though I would never tell my mother that.

"So, Jesse. I know you probably expected me to ask about your knee, and I just want to let you know that I'm not going to. I know that if you could be playing, you would be playing, and I don't need you to explain it beyond that—actually, no one does, so you can tell all the busybodies in this town to stuff a sock in—"

"Gerald..." Claire said with a warning tone.

"Well, they can," he mumbled, and that made me smile a little.

"I'll try to refrain from using those exact words, but thank you for the sentiment. It has been, well, a rough year and a half."

"I believe that, son. I did want to know... are you planning to stay at the hardware store for your daddy long term?"

Isn't that the million-dollar question .

"For the foreseeable future, I think I'll be there at least in some capacity. I'm trying to work out what I'd like to do now that baseball is off the table." I was getting a lot better at admitting that out loud, and I kind of thought I deserved a therapy-gold-star.

"Would you consider putting it back on the table if it wasn't as a player?"

My eyebrows drew together of their own accord. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

He just held up a finger and shuffled through the doorway to their kitchen. He came back holding a thin packet. Once he sat back down, he shot the packet across the table toward me with an unexpected speed, and it fell into my lap.

"Sorry about that; aim's not what it used to be." Coach chuckled as I recovered it and started scanning the text.

It looked to be an informational packet for a new baseball rec league one town over.

"Cloverdale is starting a new rec league? Didn't Emberwood usually just encompass Cloverdale and Milton?"

"They did, but Cloverdale has had a mess of new construction homes and a population boom over the past several years, and they have enough kids to have their own youth leagues now for at least five sports. This will also open the chance for inter-league games."

"That sounds great, kids can always use more rec sports experience. Those were some of the best times of my life playing ball. But I don't understand how I would fit into that. Are you looking for volunteer coaches?"

"As it happens, the Parks and Rec department over there has asked me if I'd like to be the director of this here program. Not just for baseball, but for all their recreational sports. Now, I'm supposed to be retired, but it seems as if that's not in the cards. They'd like me to hire my own team to round out the department. I want you to be the assistant director of the youth sports division."

I was quiet for what felt like the longest minute ever. The first feeling that crept up when I thought about being around the baseball world again, even at the rec level, was fear. Fear that I'd see kids whose sights were set on the big leagues and see myself, and I worried that it would hold me back from moving on. But as quickly as that feeling came up, it passed. And I thought about the friends I made then, friends like Jer whom I still considered my family, and the feeling of Saturday games and cookouts afterward, and the feeling of spring evenings out on the diamond, practicing because I loved it. Those were the highlights of my childhood.

"Am I even qualified to do that? I have a degree in history..."

"Do you think there are many athletes who played at your level who would be willing to coach the next generation? Especially in a rec league where the goal is for all kids to be able to get the benefit of playing sports and not a fancy, expensive club league? I don't think anyone could give a fig what your degree says."

"I... I don't know what to say. I hadn't really thought about coaching because, up until very recently, even talking casually about baseball was too much. But I've been doing the work, and I feel like I'm in a much better place now than I was. So... maybe, yeah. Can you tell me more about what it would entail, and I can think about it for a day? Depending on the time commitment, I may need to talk to my dad and the store managers, but... the more this kind of sinks in, I think I'd like to give it a shot if I can."

"Wooo Pig Sooie!" Coach Brown hollered. A genuine laugh escaped my throat at that. I'd forgotten about his hog calls.

"Let the boy think about it, Gerald, before you go gettin' all over-excited," Claire admonished.

But honestly, it felt good to have someone that excited when it came to talking about me and baseball in the same conversation. The rest of dinner was a blur of nostalgia and anticipation for a future that might include me getting my passion back in one way or another. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, and I didn't try. I wore it all the way back to my truck.

I thought my face might split in half when my phone buzzed on my way home, and I saw a message from Sam.

SAM: These might be the witchiest flowers I've ever seen. The only question becomes whether I take them home or keep them at the store to add even more magical ambience to our Halloween displays. I voted for taking them home, but Zin says that would be selfish. She'll probably win. Seriously, though, thank you. They're perfect

JESSE: Glad you like them. Happy Almost Halloween

The single heart at the end of her message did more for my emotional state than I cared to admit. It also made me decide that I'd pick up one of the other bouquets when the flower shop opened and drop it off at her house in the morning. I kind of figured that for Sam, Halloween was a bigger deal than Valentine's Day anyway, and I wanted to make sure I knocked this one out of the park. Baseball pun intended.