Texas

It was a last-minute decision but one that made sense. Gwendolyn and I are taking a road trip. We’re driving from New Jersey to Texas. More accurately, it’s a twenty-two-hour road trip with our parents and Marks.

I bought a brand new SUV with four captain chairs, all that fully recline, and a third-row bench that we fold, with enough space that Gwendolyn can put an air mattress back there. Annie and Marks are first on the rotation to catch some Z’s when we rolled out at ten thirty p.m. from Revolutionary Stadium, immediately after our last game in the series against the Orioles. We lost, but still won the series.

The decision to drive was based on mixed opinions about whether or not Gwen should be flying so soon after surgery. We were told it would probably be just fine, but probably isn’t good enough.

I drove until four in the morning, which is only an hour past when I would typically go to bed after a game.

Marks took the helm when we fueled up. Miss Deb and Gwendolyn loaded up two bags full of gas station food—food that the two of them swore they never ate unless they were on a road trip. Dad and Mom slept through that stop, and Gwendolyn and I took the air mattress. It was not uncomfortable, per se, but it certainly wasn’t the mattress I was used to sleeping on at home. That didn’t stop me from getting a full seven hours, which was how long Marks drove until we stopped for gas and food.

Dad offered to drive the next rotation, and I made up a lame-ass excuse so that he didn’t have to. His knee wasn’t completely healed yet, and I knew he needed to keep it up so it wouldn’t swell. For six complete hours, we listened to music, sang, and laughed.

We rolled into Walton at about midnight. Gwen and I stayed at her place since I would be getting up early to make sure I was at the hotel in Arlington by noon to meet up with the team.

That night, we lost our asses, and Gwendolyn insisted I stay at the hotel with the team. I can hate it, but it was a matinee game, so it made sense.

The entire Walton crew were in the stands for that game to watch us lose again. Gwendolen insisted I stay at the hotel again, but she stayed with me. I slept much better, and we won the last game of the series, which was awesome. Kind of sucked that none of the Walton crew was there to see it, but I’m sure Danny got it playing while he and Dad were roasting the hog.

Pope and I loaded up our vehicles with teammates to bring them back to our hometown to eat and drink, and have a good time. All four Steel brothers, their wives, plus Amias and Max and their wives and kids, followed us in four different vehicles so that they could get the players back to the airport in time to fly out at six tonight. Blew my mind that AJ, Nour, and Bennett didn’t cash back in their tickets and take advantage of the free ride to the airport and the day off in Tampa, but they weren’t about it.

“You guys get that Walton is in Bumfuck, Texas, right?” I ask.

“Locke, they’ve told you yes every time you’ve asked.” Gwendolyn laughs.

“All right, well, keep your fucking eyes open, because if you blink, you’re going to miss it.”

Ten minutes later, I point out the sign that reads, “Welcome to Walton.”

“Where?” AJ asks.

I glance in the rearview mirror. “Are you for fucking real, man?”

He grins.

“This is Main Street,” Gwendolyn says as we turn onto it. “Right there is Nan’s Diner. They have the best waffles on the planet.”

“And now Main Street is County Route 17.”

“When you said don’t blink, you really meant it,” Vander mumbles. He doesn’t seem all that pleased to be here. I mean, I kind of get it. I’ve never invited him to my hometown before, but I’m glad he’s here.

Gwen? I’m not sure how she feels, but she’s being a good sport. She’s got not a fucking thing to worry about, and she knows it, and so does Vander.

Three minutes later, Bennett leans forward and points. “Is that your high school?”

Gwen and I both laugh, and she says, “Sure is.”

“Dude, I want to see it.” AJ bounces up and down in the seat.

“You wanna see our high school?” I ask, wondering, What the hell?

“The place where Coach Locke turned out two pro players who ended up on the same team? Damn right, I do. Pull in,” he exclaims.

“We have a convoy behind us. When they all take off, we’ll bring you back.”

“No, fuck that. I wanna see it now.” AJ grips the head rest and shakes it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I mutter under my breath.

Gwen sighs. “Locke, just pull in.”

“No shit. I want to see the place the Walton cartel uses as its cover.” Nour chuckles.

“Fuck, fine, let’s do this.”

“Ballfield, man. I want to see the ballfield. Heard it was named after you.”

“Who the hell fed you that line of bullshit? It’s named after my old man.”

“Claim it, Locke. Same last name. More than I’ll ever have in the Bronx.” AJ sits back, finally chilling out.

I direct my eyes away from the rearview and to the field.

“Oh no, they didn’t,” Gwen whispers.

On the field, there is an arbor set up, with cherry blossoms weaved through it. Whitley, Chloe, CeCe, Cora, Whit, Pope’s kids, and little Aggie are all lined up on the first baseline. The girls are in sundresses, and the boys are in khakis and white shirts. Pastor and Mrs. B are standing on home plate, facing us, and our parents and Marks are all here, too.

“I’m pretty sure they did.” I kiss her hand.

Bennett reaches between us and snatches the key fob. “You two, take a minute. We need to get changed in the boys’ locker room, and you need to meet us there. Gwen, your mom is going to go with you to get ready.”

They all climb out.

Vander is last. “Happy for you two. Glad to be here.”

“Fuck, man. Me, too.”

I nod and smile at my girl. “Looks like we’re locking this down today. Any reservations?”

She shakes her head.

“Good, because”—I laugh—“this is?—”

“Perfect,” she finishes.

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”

“Me, too, but?—”

I bring her hands to my mouth and kiss the back of each. “Let’s do this, Gwendolyn York.”

***

Ten minutes later, I’m standing on home plate in a gray suit with my brother beside me. Pope, Vander, Danny, Amias Steel, Rome, AJ, Nour, and the rest of the team are lined up from second to third base. Bennett’s ass is on the first baseline, with the girls smirking at me, and I’m not even pissed about it.

There are a few people in the bleachers, too. Small town and all, it doesn’t surprise me.

When the “Wedding March” starts, I crane my neck to see my girl, and the song stops.

“She’s running, man,” my brother, Lance, taunts.

“She’s not running anywhere but to me. She’s just taking a minute.” I stop when I hear “Our Song” start and smile so big my fucking face hurts.

When I see her, she’s in a white strapless dress that hits above the knees. Her hair is in a French twist, and she’s got a little bit of makeup on. She looks amazing, but it’s her smile … brighter than the Texas sun.

Ms. Deb walks her to the other side of home plate, which is perfect with Gwendolyn being a lefty. Deb gives me a hug then a kiss before walking to her place beside Annie and Marks, next to my old man and Mom on the pitcher’s mound.

“Done many of these ceremonies over the years, but never on a ball field. Couldn’t say no when Whitley Anne, Theresa, Deborah, and Annie called and asked. I mean, I could have, but the Mrs. would not have been happy, and son, when I tell you a happy wife makes a happy life, it’s the second most important thing I’ll tell you today. The first is that there is not one thing in our lives that cannot be made better by the one thing that matters the most—love.”

“Amen!” Chloe Aiken yells.

Pastor B smiles and continues, “And when you doubt what I’ve just said, and you will, you bow your head and ask the Creator of love and life for guidance in all things.”

Gwen has tears flowing already; I’m not far from doing the same.

“I know we have a hog, all the fixings, and even Mary Anne’s famous banana pudding to get to, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

“Would appreciate that.” I smile at my girl, and she gives it right back.

“Repeat after me,” Pastor B continues, and I can’t repeat them fast enough.

“I, Leland Thomas Locke, take you, Gwendolyn Rose York, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto, I pledge you my faith and self to you.”

“Now, Gwendolyn,” he begins.

She shakes her head. “I got this.”

Pastor B laughs. “Then go right ahead.”

“I, Gwendolyn Rose York, take you, Leland Thomas Locke, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto, I pledge you my faith and self to you.”

Pastor B raises his hand. “These words are more than just a script; they are promises sealed with deep emotion and a sense of divine presence. To have and to hold signifies a promise of companionship and mutual support. For better, for worse, acknowledges the ups and downs that life will inevitably bring. For richer, for poorer highlights a commitment that transcends financial circumstances. In sickness and in health is a vow to stay by each other’s side, no matter what. To love and to cherish speaks to a dedication to nurture and care for one another. Till death do us part underscores the lifelong nature of this bond. Those of you in attendance carry the privilege to witness these vows and the responsibility to guide Leland and Gwen through any storm you may see in their way. Commit to this by saying we will.”

“We will,” echoes through the air.

He looks at us and smiles. “By the power vested in me by the State of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

We both step onto home plate, toes touching, smiling. I take her face in my hands and kiss my wife in a way that I hope shows how much I will cherish her now and always.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Leland and Gwendolyn Locke.”

Holding our hands high in the air, we turn as they whistle, cheer, and applaud.

“Wanna round the bases, Gwendolyn Locke?” I ask.

She grins. “You know I do.”

And we do that. We walk from home to first and make our way around the bases, stopping and thanking every person who came here today.

A foot from home, I swoop her up and carry her to home plate, kissing her again, but this time, with a little tongue.