His Secret Child by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online Page A

deeply, then shoved gently against his chest. If she didn't put a stop to this now, she would live to regret it.
    "Go home, Caleb." She laid her hands on his chest. His heart drummed beneath her palm. "I don't want another one-night stand."
    Caleb adjusted his aviator sunglasses as he got out of his Porsche. He hadn't actually thought much about stopping by to watch Danny's team this afternoon. In fact, he had decided that maybe Sheila was right—that he shouldn't let the boy become too attached to him. But bored out of his skull, he'd hopped into his car and driven away from the farm. Somehow he'd wound up passing by the grammar school and noticed the boys playing ball. He'd practiced ball out there in Old Man Pickens's field. Some of the happiest days of his life had been spent in Little League.
    Rubbing his right arm as he propped his hip against the hood of the car, he searched the group of boys. It wasn't hard to find Sheila's son. Not only was he a couple inches taller than most of the other guys, the boy's jet-black hair curling out from beneath his ball cap glistened in the late afternoon sunlight.
    Caleb kept his distance for quite a while, not wanting his presence to create a scene. He watched the boys and their coach, noticing that Danny seemed to be the chosen pitcher for the team. Caleb's own position. From the first year in Little League until his final year with the Braves. He'd possessed a natural talent that had made him practically a legend by thirty. He had lived for the rush, the unparalleled high, of pitching a great game. But his pitching days were over.
    Lifting his useless right arm, he stared at the crippled appendage as if it weren't a part of his own body. A stupid accident. One vital error. A split second and it had all ended. He'd told himself repeatedly that he was luckier than his girlfriend Kimberly, and his teammate Wes Shatz. After all, he had survived the boat wreck. They hadn't.
    Caleb watched the practice progress as Coach Lawley stood on the sidelines, instructing the young ballplayers. The man spoke with a soft, authoritative voice. Caleb's gut instincts told him that Pat was the right kind of man to be coaching a bunch of kids. He seemed to be adequately knowledgeable about the game, firm in his discipline but still patient and understanding.
    At one point, Lawley removed his cap, scratched his head and spit on the ground. He glanced around the parking area, as if searching for something or someone. When he spotted Caleb, he smiled and threw up his hand. Caleb nodded.
    As he made his way toward Caleb, Lawley continued making comments to the boys—giving them direction and praise. He came up beside Caleb and offered his hand. The two men exchanged a cordial handshake, then Lawley looked out into the field where his boys were playing their hearts out, as if this practice were a title game.
    "I appreciate your stopping by, Mr. Bishop. The boys will be thrilled."
    "Caleb, not Mr. Bishop."
    "Yeah, right. Caleb. I wouldn't mind your giving me a few pointers on how to help these boys. Some of them are good players but a few would be sitting on the bench all the time if they were on someone else's team. I try to give every boy a chance to play during each game."
    "Little League needs more coaches with your attitude, Pat," Caleb said. "Those kids will learn soon enough that winning is the name of the game. Too bad they can't just enjoy playing while they're kids. Guess Little League hasn't changed much in all these years, huh?"
    "I'm afraid not. Most of these kids are playing for their dads, and too many fathers are trying to relive their childhoods through their sons." Pat shook his head sadly. "And the boys whose fathers don't have the time to coach a team, or be on the board, or who aren't the coach's buddy, are often passed over, whether or not they're good players. I'm afraid the Bulldogs is comprised of boys the other teams didn't want."
    "I find that hard to believe." Caleb watched Danny