Out of Left Field by Liza Ketchum Read Free Book Online

child from another—” She sinks onto the bed beside me. “I just remembered something. Right before the accident, Pat asked me to take a personal day. Said he wanted to talk to me about something. I had it all set up. I thought he was feeling romantic, or maybe he had decided on early retirement…Maybe he planned to tell me about this.” Her face is pinched. “That’s the worst thing, Bran—so much we’ll never know.” She grips my hand. “We’ll get through this somehow.”
    “Hope so.” I let her hold on. We both need the lifeline. “What did the lawyer say?”
    “Not much. Pat visited the lawyer’s office the week before he died to write a new will. The lawyer we used was on vacation, but Pat wanted it done in a hurry, so he met with whoever was free.” Mom plucks lint from my blanket. “The lawyer pitied me, that I didn’t know about this will. It was humiliating.”
    “Pity sucks. Coach is like that, too. I see it in his face: ‘Poor Brandon.’ Especially when I screw up. I actually wish he’d just yell at me.”
    “Did you go to practice today?” Mom asks.
    “Canceled. Lucky for me.” I don’t tell her the pool’s contaminated, or that I’ve been swimming like an old tugboat. She has enough to worry about. “So let’s hear the bad news. Did Dad win the lottery, leave everything to this stranger?”
    “Not exactly.” Mom goes to the window and looks out, as if there’s something new to see out in the courtyard. “The latest will is almost identical to the one I have here except that it includes Pop—a surprise. And there’s this strange addendum.”
    I wait.
    “You’ll hate this.” Mom takes a deep breath and faces me. “There’s a sealed letter to Patrick, Junior, ‘last known address,’ etc., just as it was written in that Probate document. The letter stays with the lawyer. But Pat actually wrote that he leaves his other— son ”—she stumbles over the word—“his Jackie Robinson baseball card.”
    “What the hell!” I jump to my feet. “But that’s—”
    “I know. His prized possession.”
    This room is too small. Now I do need Cora’s class—except I might hurt someone. “Marty was right.”
    “What do you mean?” Mom looks like a forlorn kid, but I can’t comfort her now.
    “Bad luck comes in threes,” I say. “So this has to be the end. Right?”
    She doesn’t answer. “Right?” I demand.
    “The lawyer asked a strange question,” Mom says at last. “She wondered if Pat had mentioned any medical concerns.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know. Just that he was so eager to revise his will—and he seemed intent on finding this other child—young man—soon.”
    My voice is croaky. “Nothing else?”
    “His love for us. I have a copy of the will in my room if you want to read it.”
    “No thanks.”
    “Don’t be bitter,” Mom says. “We had your dad. He was a wonderful husband and father. This boy—man—lost out.”
    “That’s not my fault.” I join her at the window, crank it open. “I don’t get it. Why now? Dad leaves Canada, never sees the kid again—at least, as far as we know—and then suddenly, after almost thirty years, decides to find the guy?”
    “I wondered about that, too. And also…” Mom’s voice trails away. A cardinal lands on the branch of the oak tree and cocks his head, checking us out with one beady black eye.
    “Your dad loved the cardinal’s song,” Mom says, her voice gone soft. “He said it reminded him of the woods behind the house where he grew up.”
    As if he’s heard her, the bird bursts into song. “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” A chill slides down my neck.
    “He’s trying to tell us something,” Mom says.
    “The bird?”
    “No,” she says. “Your father.”
    Phone call: Cat in Baddeck, to Quinn on Digby Neck, Nova Scotia
    Hey, bro. Okay to talk?
    No news. I searched everywhere. Even looked in your baby book—
    You’ve never seen it? In the den, behind the sofa. You were a cutie. A towhead.