Daddy Wanted

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“And no TV at home,” Rose added.

Savvy turned to Daisy. “Well, I’m thinking we may not even have to worry about sticks moving again, because you won’t be throwing any more dirt in Justin’s face, right?”

The little girl nodded. “Right.” She waited a beat, then asked, “Aunt Savvy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I still plant a flower for Mommy?”

Brodie tried to tamp down the surge of sadness rushing through him at her request. He was impressed that Savvy found the ability to talk without her voice breaking, because he wasn’t sure he could do the same.

“Yes, Daisy, you can still plant a flower for her,” Savvy said softly. Then she gave the girls a hug while Dylan apparently noticed Brodie on the porch and forgot about the rock in his path.

“Are we practicing baseball?” he asked, his entire disposition lifting with the question.

“That’s why I’m here,” Brodie replied.

Savvy shot him a look that told him he’d better cover why he was really here, and so he obliged.

“And I thought we might talk about your schoolwork, too.”

Dylan stopped his progression toward the porch. “My schoolwork?”

Brodie could feel more than see Savvy’s anticipation for his answer. But he’d prayed about this all day, and he knew God would help him say the right thing. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to help you practice baseball one day, and then help you with your school assignments the next.”

“But you’re a baseball coach,” Dylan said.

Brodie heard Savvy’s muffled laugh at his response. Did the kid think baseball coaches only knew anything about baseball? But instead of stating that he’d actually completed his bachelor’s degree in sports management, Brodie explained, “I am a baseball coach, but I also help teenagers with their school assignments.”

“Like a tutor or something?” Dylan asked with a scowl.

“You could call it that,” Brodie said, “but you could also say I like to mix both kinds of learning when I teach someone about baseball.”

Brodie sat on the step above Savvy now, and she turned to look up at him. He noticed that her eyes looked like melted chocolate in the afternoon sunlight.

“Two kinds of learning?” Dylan asked, and Brodie took his attention away from shades of chocolate to the boy standing in front of him.

“Physical and mental. They go together, you know. A baseball player—a good baseball player—can’t merely know how to play the game. He’s got to be able to think, to analyze the play and what should be done in any situation.”

“Like if you’ve got three balls and one strike, then you swing only at hitter’s pitches,” Dylan said.

Brodie grinned—he couldn’t help it. He’d seen yesterday in the storm that the kid had survival skills, but he also had baseball knowledge too. “Exactly.”

“I like to read sports books,” Dylan admitted. “I just don’t like to read schoolbooks so much.”

“I remember the feeling,” Brodie said. “But I can promise you, you’ll go further in life, and even in baseball, if you learn both.”

Dylan had been carrying his backpack, and he slung it on his shoulder. “I don’t have any homework or anything tonight.”

“Okay, then, why don’t we go to Hydrangea Park and practice throwing?” Brodie asked.

Both of the girls were still in the crook of Savvy’s arms, but they wiggled out and looked his way.

“Can we go to the park, too?” Rose asked.

“And play on the merry-go-round and the slide?” Daisy added. Then, realizing they were asking the wrong person, she turned to Savvy. “Can we, Aunt Savvy? Please? I promise I’ll try not to move my stick again this week. Or ever.”