Home Run: A Novel (24 page)

Cory listens to the man detail the story about his childhood abuse and abandonment. The suffering he went through after moving from home to home. After losing both parents. After losing everything.

The man details each step taken on the downward spiral and then documents how God rescued him.

How God loves him.

But that’s him
, Cory thinks.

All this time, and he still feels different from this man.

Tim and Mary and Carl and Mac and Keith and Marnie might all be in the same boat, but it’s different with him.

Maybe I’m unreachable
, Cory thinks.

Maybe it’s going to take a miracle to get to me
.

His time served in this place is almost finished. Then he’ll go back out and resume a life that none of these people understand. A dream of a life that just got derailed a bit.

The dream is gonna continue, and Cory’s gonna be fine.

Cory Brand is always fine.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Closer

J. T. walked up to Cory after the Tuesday night step study and handed him a folded sheet of paper. “Well, this is your eighth week.”

In some ways, Cory felt like he’d been back in Okmulgee much longer than that. But he also felt like it had just been yesterday that he was cruising in the Corvette with Clay until the tractor showed up and ruined their day.

“Is it really? Wow.” Cory opened the document and could see the letter written to verify he had gone through eight weeks of recovery. It was signed by J. T. himself. “Well, it looks official.”

J. T. gave him a weary old grin. “Your mandated time is up, Cory, but I hope you keep coming back.”

“Okay. Right. Thanks.”

As Cory headed outside of the church to the still night breeze, he talked and chatted with some of the guys he’d grown to admire.

For a second he thought of the way it used to be in the fancy Grizzlies clubhouse. Eighty-five thousand luxurious square feet and not a close friend to find anywhere. Yet here in this town, surrounded by men connected by the hurts, hang-ups, and habits of their lives, Cory had found some true teammates.

I’m even beginning to think like they do.

He knew it was more than just rhetoric.

These guys were doing more than simply reciting some lines they’d learned to make themselves feel better. Cory wasn’t there yet, and might never get to where they were, but he still could admire the change in their lives. Each man’s story had been incredible.

So yeah. Maybe there is something to celebrate, even if I’m not where they’re at.

Cory felt good. He felt excited to leave this place in a better condition and get back to playing baseball. He needed to get back to the life he knew.

A part of him felt like celebrating, but he could hold off.

He could depart knowing that he’d allowed himself to chill on the boozing and to relax and let go.

Cory didn’t need a drink tonight. There’d surely be some of that ahead, when he was back out there on the road, a weary warrior doing his job. For now, he could take a break.

An hour later, as he walked to fill up his bucket of ice for the soda he was drinking in his room, his iPhone buzzed. He could see Helene’s name on the screen.

Finally
.

“Where have you been?” he asked. “I’ve left six messages. I got my walking papers tonight.”

“Yeah, listen, I only have a minute,” Ms. No-Nonsense-Like-Always said. “I’ve got bad news. You’re a free agent.”

Cory dropped the empty bucket and heard it bounce on the cement floor.

It had been two weeks since he’d talked with Helene. Two weeks.

“What happened?” he asked.

This is what happens when you step away from the world you know and love and once owned.

“Truth is, they haven’t missed you that much the last two months. You’re too much trouble.”

Well, please, Helene, don’t hold back on how you’re feeling.

Cory cursed and looked out to the dark countryside beyond the motel. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’ve made other inquiries—”

“I can’t
believe
you let this happen, Helene.” Before she could say anything else, Cory hung up.

She was supposed to be doing her part while he was stuck in this town. But like everybody else he knew, she let him down.

The only person who can get things done is me. The only person I can truly trust and truly expect to figure things out and do them is me.

Me.

Cory went to his room and grabbed the keys to his truck. He was finished celebrating recovery. Now it was time to celebrate being a free agent.

The bartender at Hank’s Tavern sees Cory coming and lines up a couple of shot glasses on the bar. This is when Cory knows that the rest of the world knows. That’s the way things are now. You knock a batboy in the nose. You knock over a tractor in the middle of Oklahoma. You knock a know-it-all father in the middle of a game.

Everybody finds out about the knocks as soon as they happen.

Thankfully, nobody knows about a college kid knocking up his high school sweetheart just before he was drafted by the majors.

It’s fine by him to keep a few things secret.

He downs both the shots and tells the bartender to give him another round.

He’s got some catching up to do.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Force-Out

Emma had feared this moment for ten years now.

Ever since she first held on to that precious little crying soul she named Tyler, Emma had dreaded telling him the truth about his biological father. Not because she was ashamed of who he was or what had happened.

But because a part of her always feared that somehow, in some way, telling Tyler might also mean losing Tyler.

That’s crazy. This is crazy. Surely Tyler’s fine.

But she’d checked the house twice and had called the cell phone he was supposed to have on him when he was away, and so far Tyler was nowhere to be found.

Emma had arrived home that evening from doing errands to find a newspaper on the kitchen counter. This was odd, since they didn’t get a paper, and Tyler checked out news online if he was interested.

The headline had said it all: CORY BRAND PUTS FAMILY FIRST.

Underneath was a detailed article on Cory Brand’s journey from all-star to disgraced major-league player in recovery. The way the writer made it sound, this was some sort of pilgrimage Cory had made back to Okmulgee, to the town he left and the love he abandoned.

It talked about Cory wanting to make things right—wanting to focus on his family.

Then it mentioned his son, Tyler.

It mentioned Tyler’s name as if it were public knowledge.

Nobody knows about this. Nobody except Karen and Clay.

There was a reason Emma left this town after Cory bailed. She didn’t want to be stuck around here with people knowing the truth. Everybody would have known, too.

Just like they do now.

She couldn’t believe Cory could betray her. That he could betray them. That he could do something so malicious and hurtful to Tyler.

I thought he was changing. I thought there was a chance …

Emma cursed her own foolishness even as she tried to think of what to do. She called Karen, who had just arrived home from the grocery store.

“Karen—do you know where Tyler is?”

Karen sounded nonchalant as she said, “I don’t know—let me ask.”

When Karen got back on the line, she sounded different. “I’ll call you right back.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Carlos,” Karen said. “He looks like the kid who stole from the cookie jar.”

Emma wasn’t going to wait around for Karen’s explanation. She grabbed her keys and went out to her truck to go looking for Tyler. She checked the garage, and her assumption was right. Tyler’s bike was gone.

He’s gone looking for Cory.

She never thought things would end like this. She assumed that Cory would eventually disappear, go back to his fancy life and leave them behind. Then the worries and weariness she had carried around would subside.

Driving toward downtown Okmulgee with the sun fading away, Emma prayed out loud.

“God, keep Tyler safe. And if—if he ends up finding Cory—help them—let Cory just—”

She couldn’t finish the words she wanted to say. But God knew what she was thinking.

Let Cory just stay away from him.

God knew exactly what she had felt ever since Tyler was born.

Keep Cory far away from Tyler.

It was the thing she feared the most. That Cory would suddenly turn on a light switch and realize what she had known for the last decade. That this wonderful kid was the brightest spot in a dark and dreary world.

And if Cory suddenly realized that too … with all his money and fame and clout …

Keep Cory’s hands off him. Keep him away, Lord. Please.

He heard the song playing in the jukebox and couldn’t believe it. Then again, this was what they called karma. This was what he found in the back of bars.

The first time Cory remembered hearing this song—
really
hearing this song—was when he was driving away from Okmulgee and heading to his future. He’d never been a big Elton John fan, but he paid attention when he started talking about staying on the farm and listening to his old man in the classic “Good-bye Yellow Brick Road.”

It felt fitting. Pretty much every part of his life was in the gutter. His family life. Check. His personal relationships—whatever few he really had. Check. His career.
Thanks for letting me know, Helene!
Double check. His soul. Check.

It was going to take more than a couple of vodka and tonics to set him on his feet again. Forget the tonic and load up on the vodka, sir.

Yep. I’ll be getting that replacement. And yeah, there’s many of me to be found.

Some clueless, carefree kid suddenly sucked into this machinery and thrust into the limelight.

Go to work, Cory. And if you don’t produce, you go back to Okeymoky or wherever you come from.

Face the heat and face the stares and face the horrifying expectations.

And do this even though you’re just a kid out of college who is still sort of dumbstruck and lovestruck and headstruck.

Nobody understood except the guys who filled his shoes. And now somebody was going to fill his jersey and his lockers, too.

He pointed to the bartender and lined up another. Seven shot glasses were lined up in victory, and he’d only been here an hour and a half.

They were going to have to take him out of here on a stretcher.

Just take me out the back so it doesn’t show up on YouTube tomorrow, please.

He nodded at the fine form of the bartender, who was going to get the biggest tip of his life tonight, and then he took another shot.

Smooth as water.

There was a commotion at the door, and Cory heard someone yelling and saying “him.”

Then an unmistakable voice shouted out “Coach” several times.

Standing there with a big man with bigger cowboy boots was Tyler.

“Found him looking in the windows,” the cowboy said to Cory.

“Tyler,” Cory bellowed in a voice that even surprised him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

For a moment Tyler just stood there, looking frightened and clueless. Cory could feel the wave of shame and fear deep inside.

“Do you hear me?” he shouted, cursing loudly. “Get out of here.”

He hadn’t meant to yell so loud. Or to use that kind of language.

The boy in front of him looked crushed.

Crushed and scared.

For a moment Cory turned around, angry that the kid had come out to find him. He cursed and gritted his teeth.

Of all the times and in all the places …

He could feel the panic and the loss of balance and his world suddenly crumbling around him. For a moment Cory didn’t know what to do.

For a moment he could hear his yelling and cursing father, and he was back at the farm with his old man screaming at him.

Then he realized that the old man screaming wasn’t his father.

It’s me.

He turned in horror, realizing what had happened. He was only half there, but the half of him that understood was horrified. Cory turned to say something to Tyler, to apologize to the kid and try to make it up to him …

But Tyler was already gone.