Renee Andrews - Daddy Wanted

“I threw dirt in Justin’s face,” she said.

Brodie watched Savvy inhale, her head tilting as though she were deciding what to ask next. And she asked what he’d have asked.

“Why did you throw dirt in his face?”

“Because he said I couldn’t plant a flower with everybody else,” Daisy said.

Savvy had been leaning toward the girls, but she straightened and glanced at Brodie.

He took that as his turn to jump in. “Why did Justin say that?” he asked.

“Because the flowers are for mommies, and he said I don’t have one anymore.”

“Tho Daisy threw dirt at him,” Rose said. “And moved her thtick.” She looked at her sister. “Ith Daisy in trouble?”

“No,” Savvy said firmly. “No, she isn’t. Daisy, did the teacher ask why you threw dirt at Justin?”

Daisy shook her head, her eyes blinking several times to apparently hold back tears.

“Daisy, I’m coming to the school in the morning, and I’ll explain why you were upset with Justin.”

Brodie watched Dylan approach, his head looking at the ground as he trudged along, kicking a rock in his path. Apparently, Daisy wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day.

“Justin shouldn’t have said that,” Savvy continued, paying more attention to the child in front of her than the teenager moping along the driveway, “but next time, when someone says something that upsets you, you shouldn’t throw dirt in his face. You should tell the teacher and let her handle it.”

“Then Justin would move a stick?” Daisy asked.

Savvy nodded. “I would think so.”

“Mine just moved from green to yellow,” Daisy explained. “That’s a warning. You get a warning before your stick goes to red. When it goes to red, you get time-out at school.”

“And no TV at home,” Rose added.

Savvy turned to Daisy. “Well, I’m thinking we may not even have to worry about sticks moving again, because you won’t be throwing any more dirt in Justin’s face, right?”

The little girl nodded. “Right.” She waited a beat, then asked, “Aunt Savvy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I still plant a flower for Mommy?”

Brodie tried to tamp down the surge of sadness rushing through him at her request. He was impressed that Savvy found the ability to talk without her voice breaking, because he wasn’t sure he could do the same.

“Yes, Daisy, you can still plant a flower for her,” Savvy said softly. Then she gave the girls a hug while Dylan apparently noticed Brodie on the porch and forgot about the rock in his path.

“Are we practicing baseball?” he asked, his entire disposition lifting with the question.

“That’s why I’m here,” Brodie replied.

Savvy shot him a look that told him he’d better cover why he was really here, and so he obliged.

“And I thought we might talk about your schoolwork, too.”

Dylan stopped his progression toward the porch. “My schoolwork?”

Brodie could feel more than see Savvy’s anticipation for his answer. But he’d prayed about this all day, and he knew God would help him say the right thing. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to help you practice baseball one day, and then help you with your school assignments the next.”

“But you’re a baseball coach,” Dylan said.

Brodie heard Savvy’s muffled laugh at his response. Did the kid think baseball coaches only knew anything about baseball? But instead of stating that he’d actually completed his bachelor’s degree in sports management, Brodie explained, “I am a baseball coach, but I also help teenagers with their school assignments.”

“Like a tutor or something?” Dylan asked with a scowl.

“You could call it that,” Brodie said, “but you could also say I like to mix both kinds of learning when I teach someone about baseball.”

Brodie sat on the step above Savvy now, and she turned to look up at him. He noticed that her eyes looked like melted chocolate in the afternoon sunlight.

“Two kinds of learning?” Dylan asked, and Brodie took his attention away from shades of chocolate to the boy standing in front of him.

“Physical and mental. They go together, you know. A baseball player—a good baseball player—can’t merely know how to play the game. He’s got to be able to think, to analyze the play and what should be done in any situation.”

“Like if you’ve got three balls and one strike, then you swing only at hitter’s pitches,” Dylan said.

Brodie grinned—he couldn’t help it. He’d seen yesterday in the storm that the kid had survival skills, but he also had baseball knowledge too. “Exactly.”

“I like to read sports books,” Dylan admitted. “I just don’t like to read schoolbooks so much.”

“I remember the feeling,” Brodie said. “But I can promise you, you’ll go further in life, and even in baseball, if you learn both.”

Dylan had been carrying his backpack, and he slung it on his shoulder. “I don’t have any homework or anything tonight.”

“Okay, then, why don’t we go to Hydrangea Park and practice throwing?” Brodie asked.

Both of the girls were still in the crook of Savvy’s arms, but they wiggled out and looked his way.

“Can we go to the park, too?” Rose asked.

“And play on the merry-go-round and the slide?” Daisy added. Then, realizing they were asking the wrong person, she turned to Savvy. “Can we, Aunt Savvy? Please? I promise I’ll try not to move my stick again this week. Or ever.”

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