Ghapter 13: The Right Coach

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

16:52 HRS

Laura makes a beeline for the back door with the trio of men following close behind as Mac stops on her way to the pantry and hands two loaves of bread to Trish as she backtracks to answer the ringing wall phone.

Harm has one foot over the threshold when his wife stalls him, the telephone receiver resting on her left shoulder, she says simply, "Admiral Leyendecker."

Sighing, Harm smiles at Laura. "Start without me, sweetheart. I'll be out in a bit."

"You sure, Uncle Harm?"

"Yeah. He's coming by the office next week. He just wants to discuss his itinerary. Give me 25 minutes, and I'm all yours."

Laura nods. "Okay, Grandpa can throw wiffle balls at me."

Opting for the extension and the primacy in the master bedroom, Harm says over his shoulder, "Let A.J. give you a few pointers. He used to play baseball."

"You did? Like on a real team?" Laura eyes the man with newfound admiration and excitement.

Chegwidden grouses, "I still do. Every chance I get."

"Okay then, come play with me." Laura declares eagerly as she peers over the porch railing to double check to make sure there is no one in harm's way before she drops her crutches, one after the other over the staircase railing and watches the metal walking aids land on the soft sand far below the Rabb's back porch. She releases the latch on the safety gate at the top of the stairs and slowly begins her dissent with her patient dog there and ready to assist with her furry shoulder barely caressing the girl's left side providing her with a gentle reminder not to lean too far in that direction as she uses the opposite handrail for support.

Suddenly observing her slow progress, and her rather stiff-legged gait with fresh eyes, Chegwidden questions, "Wouldn't it be easier to take the sticks down the stairs with you?"

Not even a third of the way down, Laura glances over her shoulder and shakes her head. "Not yet. Charlie and me are practicing stairs when I go to therapy on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. We do it with the leg brace and the crutches, but without Candy. They have stairs in the therapy room just to practice on. I can go up alright. Going down still makes me nervous. I'm getting stronger, but I still feel like I'm going to topple over and go headfirst down the stairs. The staircase in the therapy room is a lot shorter than this one. Charlie won't let me fall, but at least if I ever do, it's not so far to fall. He says, I'm not allowed to go down these stairs yet… Not with my crutches. I know, this way is slower, but I still feel safer." She hugs the railing. "You can go first if you want. Candy will move for you if I tell her to."

Three easy paces behind her, Chegwidden shakes his head. "Take all the time you need. Yell if you start to feel wobbly."

"I'm good. Uncle Harm wanted to put a ramp out here, so, he checked on it. The Americans with Disabilities Act has rules for all kinds of accessibility stuff. It says that, for a ramp to be safe, it needs to have a foot of ramp for every inch of rise. Uncle Harm says it's a little bit more than 12 ½ feet down, and that's a ramp that's more than 150 feet long! He drew a bunch of sketches. He was gonna make a ramp that went halfway down and then turned and went the rest of the way down so that the end of the ramp would have been turned back up underneath the porch. I told him he should just make it go straight. He laughed and said if he did that, he might as well just make it a slide because the end would be way out in the ocean. That sounded kinda fun to me, but Aunt Mac said 'no."

Chegwidden smirks. "I bet she did!"

"A ramp that long and twisty looked like too much work to me, but Uncle Harm said he didn't care about that. If I needed it, he would build it. I don't need it. He made the stairs good. They aren't too steep. Noah crawls down like a little crab. He hardly even slows down now. He's not scared of the stairs anymore. That's why the gate is up top."

With her well-timed reminder, Frank turns back and secures the latch at the top of the stairs and, it isn't until this moment that the retired admiral in front of him realizes just how deep set and slow rising the staircase really is. Still, just to be on the safe side, he glances Frank's way with a raised eyebrow.

Frank shakes his head. "I've heard her yell when she does need help. She is not averse to asking. She just won't do it unless she needs to. She's good."

A.J. watches her lead with her good leg, relying on it and the railing to keep herself stable each time her left foot drops the short distance to the next step; the careful movement making it appear as if she's doing a kind of lopsided hop, but he also notices that she's meticulous about reestablishing balance after each descent. When her feet finally do find the sand, She finds a smidgeon more confidence as she picks up speed and maintains only minimal contact with the porch railing as she steps around the side of the porch to retrieve her crutches.

A few feet from the bottom of the stairs, Frank retrieves both a regulation baseball and several plastic wiffle balls from the sand near the base of a t-ball stand. Touching the top of the ball post, he comments, "This is new."

Laura nods. "Uncle Harm bought it for me. I told him all I wanted was a new bat, but he said this might help even more. I can swing the bat good now, and I only fall over about half the time, but I still can't hit the ball when somebody throws it. He says maybe I'm not ready for that yet."

A.J. grimaces. "You fall over when you swing the bat?"

"Yes, sir. Not half as much as I used to, but sometimes."

Frank interjects proudly, "She fell down the first three dozen times she swung a golf club too. She kept getting back up. She wouldn't quit. Eventually, she found her own footing. Now she's my favorite golfing buddy."

Arms crossed over his chest, Chegwidden eyes the girl with speculation and orders, "Show me?"

Laura studies him for a quiet second before she shrugs and momentarily disappears under the porch to grab her wiffle bat. Re-emerging and dropping one crutch to the ground, she allows the other to dangle loosely by the cuff from her left forearm.

Both men watch as she approaches the stand, swings, and misses the ball that Frank already has waiting there for her. After which, she quickly drops the bat, stepping back on her right heel to maintain her balance and narrowly avoids landing on her backside.

When he's certain she's going to remain upright, A.J. picks the bat up, and returns it to her. "One more time." He says, as he gently tugs the dangling crutch away from her arm.

Laura waits for him to step clear and gives it another go. The bat slices through the sea air with an undeniable woosh, but she still narrowly misses contact with the ball, and stumbles, but before she can go down Chegwidden reaches out, quick as lightning, and grabs a fistful of material at the back of her jacket, keeping her upright.

When her feet are under her again, he trades the crutch he still holds for her bat and walks away with it without a word. As he steps down the beach toward the water's edge where the sand is wet and hard packed, Laura stares after him in mild confusion. When he realizes that she hasn't followed, as he intended, he crooks his finger.

Glancing at Frank once, Laura shrugs and complies without complaint.

Understanding that the game is afoot, Candy eagerly trots after Laura; pausing only long enough to snatch the undisturbed ball from its post, and then charges in her young mistress's direction with the pilfered treasure held securely in her mouth.

Laura chuckles when A.J. takes the ball Candy offers him and then wipes his hand on the leg of his cargo pants without comment. "Sorry, she slimes everything." She rubs the dog's ear affectionately. "My life is covered in dog drool."

"There are worse fates. Life is always better with a good dog at your side."

Laura nods eagerly. "True."

"Do me a favor, darlin. Walk down the beach." He points in the direction he wants her to go.

Laura squints but shrugs again and does as she's been told.

He watches as she goes; her dog strolling along beside her. He lets her walk parallel to the water's edge for a good 30 yards before he calls out, "Okay, now, turn around and come back to us."

By the time Laura returns to Chegwidden, her grandfather is standing beside him looking every bit as curious as she feels.

"Mr. A.J. How come you made me walk all the way down there just to turn around and come back?"

He squats on his heels, bringing himself down closer to her eye level "So, I could watch you."

"Watch me?"

He nods. "I wanted to see you how you move on reasonably level ground."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"You're doing it your way."

When she wrinkles her nose, uncertain how to interpret his answer, Chegwidden adds, "Your left hip and leg are a little stiff, but I'm guessing you already know that. When you swing this bat, you're giving it all you've got, but your hips aren't quite following through."

Laura frowns in uncertainty.

He offers her a rigid smile. "It takes more than just your arms, to swing a baseball bat properly, girl." He touches her gently at the waist. "From here up, you're good. Your arms, your shoulders, and your back all communicate with each other and work nicely together. From here down, you've got several things to work out."

Laura catches him by surprise when she laughs. "Mr. A.J. You just told the story of my whole life!"

He frowns; more disturbed by her summation than she is, "Not your whole life story, just one small part of it, Laura."

"I hope so."

"I'd put money on it, kid. Lots of money."

"That makes two of us." Frank winks at the girl.

Laura smiles. "Can you help me be a better baseball player?"

Chegwidden shrugs. "I can try."

"I'm listening."

"Number one, I understand why you're practicing on the loose sand. It hurts less when you fall over, right?"

Laura nods eagerly.

"You can start by moving down here to where the sand is wet. It won't hurt that much more, and you'll probably fall over half as often. Up there on the dry sand, the ground as always shifting beneath your feet. You've got no traction."

Laura nods again. "Okay. What else."

"Your stance is disgraceful

"What's that mean? I never heard that word before?"

"What? Stance?"

"Uh huh."

"The way you stand when you swing the bat."

"I just stand like I always do."

The breeze tousles her hair and pushes her bangs into her eyes and Laura makes quick work of searching her jacket pockets and coming up with a bobby pin to correct the problem as he chuckles dryly.

"Yeah, I noticed."

"The way I stand is wrong for swinging the bat?"

"Boy is it, and I'm not sure how much we can change and still keep you upright, but you're hardly managing that now. I think I can help you out some, if you're not too scare to try."

Laura immediately shakes her head. "Show me."

Chegwidden defers to Frank briefly with half a glance, and Frank nods, motioning, "By all means."

A.J. rises to his full height and steps around behind the girl, offering her the bat. When she immediately chokes up on the handle, he gently repositions her hands, widening the gap between them.

"Uncle Harm told me to hold it like that."

Chegwidden nods. "Yeah because he thought it would give you better control of the bat, but he's wrong."

Laura scowls and A.J. snorts before he clears his throat and corrects himself. "Well, he's not exactly wrong. That generally does give a hitter better control over their bat. You just don't really need better control of the bat. Your biggest problem is that slight time lag before your lower body decides to cooperate with your upper body."

"How am I supposed to fix that." Laura asks plainly.

"You may not entirely fix that, but it will get better with practice. That's true for anybody; not just you. You'll just have to do it over and over and over again until it starts to feel normal. He nudges his right foot between both of hers, widening the small gap present there. "You'll help yourself out immensely if you can put some space between your feet. You need a wider support base."

Laura squints. "Charlie says my feet are too wide apart when I walk."

A.J. shrugs. "Charlie might be right too, but we're not walking. We're swinging a baseball bat. Different rules."

Laura giggles. "Okay. What else?"

"Switch hands for me." He says, repositioning her so she can bat with the opposite hand.

"Okay, but how come? I'm right-handed. I can swing harder."

He nods. "Yes, but you pivot better to this side, and you swing so hard that you nearly fall over every time you don't connect with the ball. You gotta meet the ball first, kid. Worry about that before you concentrate on knocking one out of the park. Just meet the ball. That's all you gotta do, and don't get upset if you've got a little less power in your swing. There are plenty of right-handed people who bat left-handed. Until you get the hang of it, if we can't make your bottom half move faster, maybe we can slow the top half down so that the rest of you can keep up."

Laura cocks her head to one side, obviously thinking it through. "Okay, it's worth a try. What next?"

"Here, watch me. I'll show you a good stance and we'll see how close you can come to it and still be on your feet and comfortable."

"Okay."

Inside the house, and momentarily on hold with one hand over the receiver, Harm pokes his head out the bedroom doorway. "How's she doing out there?"

Mac shrugs from her place in front of their son's highchair as she slides the tray into place for the hungry boy. "So far, so good. Chegwidden seems to be trying to get her to emulate a proper hitter's stance as best she can. Occasionally, she looks a little confused, but she seems receptive. She's making an effort."

Harm nods and disappears behind the bedroom door again, returning to his call as the other end of the line is picked up again.

Twenty minutes later, even though she's standing at the kitchen sink, watching Laura and Chegwidden though the open window – even though she sees him gently toss a ball her niece's way, Mac still jumps in surprise at the soft thunk of a baseball connecting with the swinging children's bat; and the squeal of pure joy that immediately follows that sound instantly brings a trace of moisture to her eyes.

Done with his call and busy quickly picking up the toys scattered all over the living room floor, Harm recognizes the sound as well and immediately meets his wife's gaze as he trots to the back door.

Mac nods and whispers in awe, "She did it, Harm. She hit the ball!"

Harm quickly abandons the half-filled basket of toddler's toys. "How much help did she have?"

Mac shakes her head, smiling radiantly as she and Trish each scoop up a child and rush to join him. "Between the two of them, she's certainly had plenty of coaching, but she did it by herself. Frank is sitting on the steps watching. Chegwidden tossed the ball. She swung, she hit the thing, and she's still upright!"

Harm jerks open the back door and allows the women to quickly precede him as he shouts comically, "Hey! What's the big idea? Who told you that you are allowed to actually hit baseballs out here in my backyard?"

While Candy chases after the lost ball, bounding through the waves, Laura stands on the beach, turns her face to the sky, and bellows, "Uncle Harm, did you see?"

Harm sidesteps Frank on the stairs as he races down and lifts the girl's feet off the sand. "No, sweetheart, I didn't see it, but I heard it! Aunt Mac was watching through the kitchen window. She saw."

"I can't believe I did it! I finally hit the ball!" Laura laughs and throws her arms around his neck.

Harm laughs and holds her close as the others gather around. "I don't know why you can't believe it. You should. You did the work, kid. You earned the reward."

The excited babies babble noisily just to compete with the adults and Trish steps forward, warmly embracing both Laura and her son.

Chegwidden thumps Laura on the back with pride and smirks. "I told her to turn away from the house. I was more concerned about the windows than the possibility of losing the ball to the tide."

Mac kisses her niece and waves the comment aside. "Don't worry about the ball, sir. We'll get her some new balls."

Frank laughs, "I'll buy her baseballs by the bucketful!"

Shannon cheers, clapping her small hands together happily "Bay baw!"

Chegwidden shrugs, "Yeah, but I missed the damn ball. That thing is probably long gone, and that dog thinks she's been designated catcher. I don't think she's gonna come back without it."

Laura laughs. "Oh, yes she will. It's not at all hard to get Candy to come back. All you have to do is yell 'treat."

Effectively demonstrating her point, Noah loudly yells his version of a word that is spoken multiple times daily in his house, "Tweat!" and, even with the slight mispronunciation, Candy's head lifts in response.

Before the happy dog comes splashing back to shore, where she shakes water from her coat in every conceivable direction, showering them all, she also manages to snag Laura's wayward ball from the rolling surf.