handed him the soda and sat down on a wooden deck chair. He lit a cigarette, and she pushed an ashtray toward him. They watched osprey swoop down at the water and then return to their bald perches across the water.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here,” she said.
“Nope.” The Chief was the only man in Quinn who Laverna could not intimidate.
“How do you know?”
“There’s only one thing you and I have in common, Laverna.”
“How is she doing?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” The Chief refused to make eye contact, and continued to stare out at the river.
“I’ve got nothing to say to her,” said Laverna. “I just need a body in the right field.”
The Chief puffed on his cigarette and finally turned to look her square in the eye. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“She’s scared of the ball. She covers her face with her glove and she won’t swing at anything.”
“Rachel isn’t scared of the ball, Laverna. She’s scared of you.”
“I’m not following.”
“If she does nothing, she can’t screw it up.” The Chief removed his ball cap. “She does nothing, because she doesn’t want to make a mistake.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Laverna looked out at the riverbank. A month ago, the crocuses had appeared, blue flowers pushed up through inches of whiteness and revealed themselves, polka-dotted the entire snowy bank.
“She doesn’t want to disappoint you,” he said. “I figure she’s done enough of that.”
“She disappoints me by not catching the goddamn ball,” said Laverna.
“Then why did you put her on the team?”
“I told you,” said Laverna. “I had no choice. There’s only so many women in this goddamn town.” They watched a giant gray log come down the river, dragging through the high grass along the shore. It was an ancient thing, riddled with holes from woodpeckers.
“You know she’s no good at sports,” said the Chief. “You’re up to something.”
“I guess I want to keep my eye on her,” Laverna confessed.
“That’s my job,” said the Chief. “You can stop doing that.”
“Can you blame me? I mean, Jesus Christ, she completely ruined my life.”
“That’s what kids are for,” said the Chief.
“You don’t have any kids,” said Laverna.
“Exactly,” said the Chief. “I wrecked enough things on my own. I’ve spent the last twenty years making it up to my wife.” He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. “I’m way ahead of you. Been playing catch with her for the last few weeks.”
“Tell your wife thank you for that apple stuff.”
“I will,” said the Chief.
“I never thought she would come back,” admitted Laverna.
“It would do you some good to forgive her,” said the Chief. “It might even make you a happier person.”
“You’re not exactly Mr. Sunshine,” she said.
“That’s because I’m still trying to forgive myself,” he said.
He left her there on the back porch. She heard him drive away, and she sat there and watched the river. There was no telling what could float by next.
The Flood Girls versus Quinn Lumber Mill
Jake predicted disaster. This was the first game of the season, and the Flood Girls were playing against another team from Quinn. The bleachers were completely full.
He arrived at the softball field at five thirty. The outfield was freshly mowed, and Jake could smell the grass from his seat on the far left of the bleachers. Bucky’s white sneakers were stained green from the clippings.
Jake watched as Bucky secured the padded, puffy squares to each corner of the diamond. He laid the flat mat of home plate after using his measuring tape, and nodded to Jake in the bleachers. He and Jake were the only paid employees of the league, and they behaved like professionals.
“Nice outfit,” called out Bucky. Jake wore his black sailor pants and a white shirt with epaulets. He knew that he looked like a sailor and didn’t really care. If there was a flood in Quinn, Jake was ready to command the ship.
“Thanks,” said Jake, ignoring the tittering among the crowd. He was used to such a reaction. “I wanted to make sure we matched.” And they did—Bucky wore his umpire’s uniform, also black and white, the shirt divided into vertical stripes. Bucky looked down at his outfit and shook his head.
Jake opened his scorebook, brand-new for 1991, and carefully inscribed the names into the boxes with a pencil. He had a special pencil case just for softball, and it contained eighteen pencils, two sharpeners just in case one malfunctioned. It also was loaded with cough drops, allergy medication, and