Fixing Perfect by Therese M. Travis Page A

Your will for our teammates today, that they have fun, that they’re good sportsmen, that You keep them safe. But Lord, more than this we ask Your blessings for Kaitlyn George and for little Becca. Follow them. Keep them safe. Bring them home today to their families. And as always, we ask that You keep all our children safe. We ask this in Your name, Amen.”
    Kerry whooped and headed for the dugout.
    Sam leaned close to Robin. “Danny should have been a preacher.”
    “I think he was, once. He’s said a few things that make me think he was, anyway. Or studied to be one.” Robin tightened her hold on her crutches and started for the outfield.
    “He sure knows how to pray.”
    Robin watched him in between navigating the hummocks of grass and dirt. “You’re doing your best.”
    He frowned. “What’s that got to do with how the coach can pray?”
    As if she couldn’t read his every expression. “Nothing. It’s what you’re worried about, though, isn’t it?”
    He didn’t answer, just slipped his mitt over his fist and glared at home base.
    Robin stopped beside him and snagged her mitt from his back pocket. She’d never caught anything with it, not yet, but it had already molded itself around her hand. “Look, Sam, you’re not responsible for the universe. You found that baby. How can you say you haven’t done enough? She would have died if you hadn’t found her.” She made him meet her gaze, glaring her affirmation into his soul until he looked down, and nodded. “You’re not the only one God can use, but then, neither is Danny. He’s using us all, anyone who lets Him.” She shrugged. “Maybe even the people who don’t want Him to. He can use anything, can’t He?”
    A smile twisted up one side of his mouth. “He sure can.”
    “So now you’re taking a break. Did you even sleep last night?”
    “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t help it. I sat down to eat a sandwich and woke up with mustard on my face.”
    “That must have been pleasant.”
    “But Becca and Kaitlyn are still out there at the mercy of some sicko. Becca’s only five.”
    “I know, Sam. We all know that. And everyone is doing what they can. Those of us who can’t search are praying.”
    “Yeah, we need prayers.” He closed his eyes, probably lost in a prayer of his own for a few minutes. Robin let him do that work in silence. He’d feel better for it.
    “Batter up!” Coach Danny’s voice echoed across the field.
    Robin turned to face the game. “If anyone hits a fly, I want to try to catch it, OK?”
    “You got it, babe.”
    Her lips pinched, but she didn’t let him catch her expression. Maybe he didn’t know how it sounded. Maybe he didn’t mean to ram the word so deep in her heart she’d probably never be able to remove it, never be able to forget it. Babe . Like she was his, belonged to him, was beloved by him.
    I am Your beloved, that should be enough, shouldn’t it?
    Sometimes it actually was.
     
    
     
    Several parents took their kids home as soon as the game ended. The pizza parlor wasn’t any less noisy, but Sam still felt the yawning void that their absence left. He settled Kerry next to Robin, bent to tuck her crutches under the table where they wouldn’t trip anyone up and rose to find Donovan seating himself across from them. Sam clenched his fists.
    Robin wasn’t interested in Donovan. She’d made that clear.
    But Sam couldn’t stop disliking the guy. He sure didn’t want to explore how deep the dislike ran, find out if it had progressed to hatred. Or why.
    Donovan set his camera next to the parmesan. “I got some good pictures out there today.”
    Sam took a deep breath and ordered himself to at least be polite. “You got all the permission slips signed?”
    “All but a couple. I made sure not to get those kids in the shots. Not too hard, really. And both of those have gone home. Parents thought they’d be safer there, I guess.”
    “Do you blame them?” Sam met the