The Prospect, Eliot Parker [free ebooks for android .TXT] 📗

clenched fists.
“And the message,” Shane mentioned as his voice quivered. “The yellow piece of paper with the initials that Mr. Miller gave me a while back…..”
Morton’s glance met Frank’s for a moment and Morton was hoping Frank would contribute something. Frank’s head lowered slowly, and he spoke in a soft, measured tone.
“It was a note to me, telling me what had happened, lad,” Frank replied, finishing the thought. “I served all the men at the mill their medicine and the medicine for their families. It was a slip to remind me to clear your daddy’s account from Harlan Shea’s register book.”
Relieved, the mayor reached for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face. After a few moments, Shane broke the silence.
“You could have done more to get Dad out of that building. Instead, you fled. You are a coward! An absolute coward! Do you know what it is like to be without a father? Huh! DO YOU!” Shane’s voice boomed and bounced off the rafters and throughout the warehouse.
“Thanks to you, I’m dealing with an emotionally unstable mother. We do not having enough money for anything. Baseball is our only hope…
“Huh, your only love? What about my daughter? Does Olivia not fit into your world?” Morton scoffed.
“GOD! You stole the future away from my mother and I that night. So now I know why you hate me. I am a constant reminder of that night; a constant reminder of the biggest mistake you ever made!”
“Let me tell you something son. We all make mistakes. The purpose in life is to learn and grow from those. I will never forget that night. But you weren’t there.” The mayor’s tone was becoming patronizing with each passing word.
“Yea, but you were, and you did nothing,” fizzled Shane.
“There was nothing I could do!” The mayor’s face was beat red, and the ridge of his nose was displaying a horrific mix of metallic blue and purple tones. “The fire was too great and had I been able to get some help, this damn thing would have blown up anyhow.”
“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” Shane reminded Morton, although the phrase appeared to be intended for everyone.
Feeling audacious, Morton Mitchell was determined to have the final word.
“Now you have a decision to make. What are you going to do? Can you stay in this town knowing that I am going to be in your child’s life forever? That’s just the way it is. I cannot redo or repay for what happened here, and your hatred for me will not change anything.”
“Mr. M…Mitchell, p…p…please, this i…is not helping,” stuttered Ryan, trying to begin a peaceful settlement to this crisis. Morton did not heed the advice.
“Common, Shane. You always have all the answers. Now choose. If you want to be with Olivia and your child, then I am going to be involved. If not, then that would suit me fine. But you and here are not going to run off to Huntington or Charleston or New York and leave me alone. I will always be her dad and will always be the child’s grandfather.”
“Is Olivia….pregnant?” The question came from Frank Miller, who knew nothing about the conception, but was stunned and wanted somebody, anybody to answer him.
Shane looked at everyone in the room, judging their expressions. It was truly a mixed bag of representations.
“She is pregnant. Olivia and I are having a baby.” Shane seemed exhausted at the possibility of having to explain the entire ordeal. “We are committed to this child and we are going to be good parents. But mayor, you are wrong about your daughter. She is strong, she is courageous, and she loves me. That’s right, loves me! And if we decide to kick your fat ass to the curb, then we will and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it!”
The mayor lunged forward, trying to reach any part of Shane’s body with his hands. This time, Phil Rodney grabbed hold of Morton’s waist, and held on for dear life. Chaz and Ryan stood in front of their friend, prepared to defend an attack if necessary.
“Enough! All of ya!” Frank screamed, finally calming everyone down. “Listen, we have something important to do this afternoon. Nobody is to discuss these here topics outside of this place, here me? I mean it too. We are here to help the Fall Festival not grind axes.”
In the midst of the speech, Shane had darted out of the warehouse entrance, marching towards town.
*********
As the blistering afternoon sun began to set behind the dry, rolling Appalachian Mountains, the gathering crowd in downtown Sheaville was cheering and clapping. Today, the town was coming to see their Loggers and help raise money for an event the entire town relished. Not only was the auction important, but also Sheaville was preparing for a three-game series with the Delmarva Shorebirds, a series that could earn the Loggers a chance to play the Charleston Alley Cats for the Appalachian Baseball Championship.
As Olivia prepped the microphone by tapping the end of it with her finger, Jack Busby was hauling out large bowls of red punch and soft drinks, along with some hamburgers and hot dogs. The refreshments proceeds helped support the Fall Festival event, and Jack’s infamous mouth-watering hot dogs and plump, juicy hamburgers were on full display.
“I sure hope those fuckers get here soon,” Biggie noted, standing next to Olivia and observing the television and radio reporters performing final equipment checks below the stage. “It may be time to get this party started REAL soon.”
Olivia stopped what she was doing, and glanced at her watch. It was five minutes until two o’clock. When she turned around, Shane skipped effortlessly onto the stage.
With his hair ringing wet and tee shirt soaked with sweat and tinged at the top with blood, the pitcher seductively slipped his arms around Olivia’s waist.
“Shane, not here,” Olivia demanded, hearing some stammering from members of the audience.
“I should be able to hug my girl anytime I want to.” Shane pulled backwards on Olivia, raising her legs off the stage platform and causing her to yelp. He was content to say nothing about what happened at the sawmill moments ago.
A reporter from WCHS radio pressed play on his tape recorder and hoisted his microphone high into the air. As far as he was concerned, Shane and Olivia’s tussle meant the beginning of the auction.
Biggie approached Shane. “When your peter goes down in your shorts, you’re to speak first, pussy. We need to get this started. These people are going to get hot and grouchy soon, Romeo.”
Olivia rested her hand on Shane’s forearm for a moment before as he loosened his grip and sprang to the podium. Shane hated public speeches. In fact, when he was a pitcher in high school, he dreaded the thought of speaking to anyone about anything related to baseball. Now, he was assigned the task of speaking to a multitude of supporters AND members of the media. Shane reached into an empty box sitting near the stage and slipped on a Loggers tee-shirt over his undershirt.
Stuttering, Shane managed a hello. The crowd responded in appreciation.
“Uh, I am Shane Triplet and I am, or was…or am still a starting pitcher on the Sheaville Loggers baseball team.”
The crowd once again whistled and cheered.
“Welcome them. Welcome them. Tell them the name of this event and what we are raising money for,” Olivia whispered forcefully.
“What are we here for?”
“To raise money for the Fall Festival, dumbass!” replied Biggie, whispering into Shane’s left ear.
From the corner of his eye, Shane saw Phil, Frank, Chaz, Ryan, and the mayor scramble to various positions in the audience. Frank and Phil stood in the back row, Chaz and Harry were cautiously looking for a route on-stage, and the mayor was inching his way closer to the reporters in attendance.
“We are glad you are here today to, uh, help us raise a little cash for the Fall Festival to be held…uh….real soon!”
Olivia rested her hand on her chin, rolling her eyes as she continued to squat near the stage floor.
Women and men of all ages began rummaging through their pockets, wallets, and purses, in anticipation of the auctioned baseball items to come.
Olivia slyly slipped a baseball onto the flat portion of the podium. “Here, go ahead and auction this.”
“Auction? I have never auctioned anything before,” he fired back.
“Chicken,” mumbled Chaz, who was now standing shoulder alongside Shane after making it onstage.
“Well folks, our first item is a baseball autographed by the entire team. We will start the bidding at $50.00.”
The chatter in the crowd ceased. Everyone looked around in disbelief.
During the moment of confusion, Walter Mann approached the stage and made his way to the platform, politely shoved Shane aside. Slipping a pink envelope into the pitcher’s hand, the manager rested squarely in front of the microphone.
“Sorry for that here delay folks. I am Walter Mann, the manager of this here ballclub. We’ll start pawning this baby at five bucks. Who will give me five?”
As the crowd refocused their attention to the stage, now occupied with four confused people, Sheaville’s residents began raising their hands in unison. The manager turned auctioneer leaned over to Shane. “you just gotta have an old pro do this thing, son.” He winked at Shane, who was still not sure what had just happened.
The baseball sold for more than $5.00. In fact, Mildred Thompson, a woman who lived in Sheaville her entire life and positively knew nothing about baseball, spent $35.00 on the ball.
Father Keith Francisco of the Sheaville Catholic Church pledged $40.00 for the next item, an autographed team jersey. Father Francisco had promised Olivia to buy something, since her family was faithful members of the church.
One by one, the auctioned items disappeared from the table and the money was pouring in. Walter was running the auction smoothly, leaving Olivia and Chaz to collect the money and Jack Busby to sell the concessions.
Shane spent the afternoon waiving at some individuals in the crowd, and hopping onto and off the stage to pose for pictures with kids and zealous elderly women who found his rugged good looks too enticing to ignore.
As the afternoon wore on, Sheaville citizens filled the platform jar with tons of dollar bills in all denominations. The grand prize, a set of tickets for the Sheaville-Delmarva series was still being auctioned.
Phil Rodney purchased the Delmarva series tickets, even though he and Frank Miller shared season tickets anyway. It was Phil’s intention to give the tickets to some of his loyal department store customers as a promotion.
Olivia was pleased and could not wait to tell her father, who suspiciously did not show up for his scheduled public appearance.
After Olivia and Shane quietly slipped off stage, holding hands as the half of the crowd lined up at Jack’s table to purchase some cold drinks and food. As Olivia lightly kissed Shane on the cheek, the pitcher detected lights and noise approaching just on the outskirts of town. Olivia followed his gaze and detected swirling lights coming towards them. No noise was made, but Shane felt his heart leap into his throat.
S…s…Shane, you and O…O….Olivia n…n…..” The stammering was coming from Ryan, who had exhaustingly sprinted towards them. Before he could finish, Phil Rodney emerged from the audience, completing the sentence.
“Shane, you need to leave. Go! Take Olivia with you. Frank and I are going to try and clear the street. Go! Now!”
Befuddled, Shane did not move. Olivia was looking around, silently demanding an explanation as the lights were now approaching the center of town.