ball from one palm to the other. Finally he spotted Pete coming up the walk. Jamming the worn baseball into his pocket, he trotted to meet him. “Hey, Pete, out for your evening constitutional?” He affected a British accent and grinned at his own joke.
Pete offered a weak laugh in reply. “I walked over and saw Libby. I needed to let her know the Rowleys sent me the train tickets for our trip back home.”
Bennett stifled a growl of irritation. Of course the Rowleys would send the tickets to Pete—good ol’ trustworthy Pete. “I saw you heading off earlier, but I couldn’t holler in the middle of the game.” He experienced a twinge of conscience with his little white lie and hurried on. “And phew . . . my team didn’t do so great tonight—lost by seven runs!” He made a sour face. “But Sunday afternoon we’re planning a rematch, and we need a decent pitcher. Wanna play?”
Pete’s eyebrows lowered a fraction of an inch. “Me? Pitch?”
Bennett laughed. “Didn’t you pitch for us back at the school? You’ve got a good arm.” Pete couldn’t play catcher—it required squatting, something not easily done on his artificial leg. And he wasn’t the greatest baseman or fielder with that peg making him clumsy. But he’d proved he could plant the tip of his peg leg in the dirt and throw a ball hard and fast right over the smashed tin can that served as home plate.
Bennett smacked Pete’s shoulder. “ ’Course, Libby could pitch better than the numskull who pitched for us tonight.” Bennett never would understand why Libby had such trouble throwing a ball; she could hit a tree dead center with a penknife.
Pete rubbed his lips together. “Sure, Bennett. I’d be willing to pitch for you, if the others won’t mind.”
“They won’t mind.” Between now and Sunday he’d talk Pete up so much they wouldn’t even flinch when he limped out to the mound. And as soon as the other fellows saw Pete in action, they’d realize he wasn’t so different. Then they’d be willing to let him pledge the fraternity. Bennett grinned, thinking how flabbergasted ol’ Roy would be to see Pete and him showing up for meetings.
Pete shifted his weight to his good leg, grimacing a bit. Bennett frowned—Pete better not do that during the game. “We’re planning to play right after lunch.” He pulled the baseball from his pocket and bounced it in his palm. “One o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
Bennett plopped the ball into Pete’s hand and then scuttled backward several feet. He hunkered into the catcher’s position and cupped his hands. “Put ’er in here, pal.”
Pete examined the seams, laid his finger precisely between them, and fired the ball back to Bennett. Bennett rose, grinning, and shook his right hand. “Good one!” He hissed through his teeth. “That stung! You’ll be ready Sunday.”
With a short laugh, Pete closed the distance between them. “I’ve been walking to the chapel around the corner from the campus for services on Sunday mornings. Do you want to meet for breakfast and go over together before the game?”
Bennett shoved the ball back into his pocket. Trust Pete to bring up church. “Nah. You go on without me. I like to sleep in on Sunday mornings.”
“You sure?” Pete’s face twisted into the same look Aaron Rowley had always worn when Bennett tried to play sick on Sunday mornings. Bennett disliked the expression even more coming from his friend. “Now that we’re settled in here on campus, it would do us good to go—to feel like we’re part of a church family.”
“Libby going?”
Pete shrugged. “I haven’t asked her yet, but I’m sure she will. I don’t know why she wouldn’t.”
“Well . . .” Bennett stuck out his jaw and folded his arms over his chest. “I’d rather sleep. Gotta get up early for my classes all week long, and gotta get up early Saturday to get to my job.” He’d been hired by the school’s groundskeeper to help with yard maintenance. After the man found out Bennett had done similar chores at the orphans’ school, he’d hired him on the spot. Apparently a lot of the students at the college had never lifted a shovel or weeded a garden—spoiled namby-pambies. “I don’t wanna get up early my only day off.”
Pete didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “All right, but when we go home for Matt’s wedding, Aaron and Isabelle will expect you to go to church with them before we head back Sunday afternoon.”
“Yeah,