42 by Aaron Rosenberg

straighten just as Miller stepped through the door and joined him. Miller didn’t look pleased, exactly, but Rickey didn’t think he looked furious, either.
    They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Miller sighed and shook his head. “I question your bedside manner, Mr. Rickey,” he commented, “but they’ve agreed to set up a committee of self-policing. We’ll call it the ‘Don’t Spoil Jackie’s Chances’ campaign.”
    Rickey nodded and offered his hand. They had listened after all! “Thank you, Mr. Miller,” he said. “I’m sorry; the spotlight will be on us.”
    As they shook hands, Rickey allowed himself to feel a tiny twinkling of hope. This just might work after all!

    Jackie stood in front of the cozy house on Pepper Street, holding his little boy and kissing him good-bye. After a second, he handed the cooing baby off to his mother, who received a kiss from Jackie as well before she headed back inside. As the cabbie carried his bags out to his taxi, Jackie turned to Rachel, alone at last.
    â€œPromise me you’ll write,” Rachel demanded. It killed her that she couldn’t go to Florida with him this time, but Jackie Junior was still too young to travel that far safely. It would be better for him if they stayed here, with Jackie’s mother. Better for him, but not for her.
    Jackie gave her a smile. “When did I ever not write?” he asked gently.
    But Rachel wasn’t about to let him blow her off. “I want you to know I’m there for you,” she explained. “Even if it’s words on paper.”
    Jackie took her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest. “Rae, you’re in my heart.” She could hear it thudding, as if confirming that was true.
    Even so, she sighed. “You’re getting close now,” she warned him. “The closer you get, the worse they’ll be. Don’t let them get to you.”
    â€œI will not,” he promised. “God built me to last.”
    He pulled back just far enough to kiss her, and she returned the kiss fiercely.
    â€œSee you in Brooklyn in eight weeks,” Rachel said when they finally broke for air.
    Jackie frowned. “It might be Montreal.”
    But Rachel didn’t believe that, not for a second. “It’s going to be Brooklyn,” she told him. “I know it is.”
    Jackie nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. The taxi honked, and he glanced toward it, then back at her. “I’ve got to go, Rae.”
    She nodded and hugged him one last time, then stood back and watched him head toward the waiting car. But she just couldn’t let him go that easily. When after a second Jackie stopped and looked back at her, she flew toward him, and soon he was catching her in his arms, squeezing her tight. She didn’t want to see him go, and she knew he didn’t want to leave her. But he had to, at least for now.
    â€œGo,” she told him. “I’ll be right here for you. Go, and hit one out of the park for me.”
    He smiled at her again, and it showered a warm glow of light upon her heart. “Rae, I’ll hit every one out of the park for you.”

I t’s a pipe dream, Mr. Rickey.” Durocher and his boss were eating at the Tivoli Hotel in Panama City. At least, Durocher was eating. Rickey had barely touched his food. It was March 18, 1947. Spring training was just about to start, and they were talking about the most distinctive and controversial player in their organization. Sometimes Rickey thought Jackie was all he ever talked about anymore.
    Right now he was staring at his top coach. “Is that your attitude toward Jackie Robinson?”
    Durocher groaned. “I don’t got an attitude toward him. I’ll play an elephant if he can help us win. To make room for him, I’ll send my own brother home if he’s not as good. We’re playing for money, Mr.