Page 22 of Words Unspoken

Michael knew she had pitched for her competitive high school team. His private investigator had turned up the information because yes, he had yielded to the temptation of spying on her. Ann even had been offered a college scholarship to pitch. She had turned it down to come work for him and Michael had no idea why. Now he supposed he would never get to ask her.

“You what?” Max asked absently.

The pitch was made and sure enough, even though the batter jerked to try to get away, it hit him off the ankle. He danced around in pain.

“I pitched,” Ann said in satisfaction.

Michael made a motion with his arm. He already knew the answer but put in the question like he didn’t.

“Nope. Not windmill. Regular pitching. I was supposed to go to college pitching. They thought I might make it to the state ladies’ team and maybe even go national.”

“Why didn’t you?” Max asked, suddenly interested.

“I didn’t want to. I loved to play the game but to make it into a job? No thank you.” She smiled remembering. “I did recreational for a while but got so busy with work that I just gave it up.”

Michael thought that was a little sad. Ann had given up a sport that she loved.

“Mr. Ramesly? It is time for your speech therapy appointment.”

Michael grimaced but got up to dutifully to go with the nurse.

Ann immediately grabbed his arm. “Are you going to be okay?”

He nodded, gave her hand a squeeze then followed the nurse.

“Ann, I know you want to protect him after all he has been through. We all do. But we need to let him decide what he can and cannot do,” Max admonished softly.

“You didn’t see what he went through this morning,” frowned a concerned Ann.

“No, but I did find him capable of what he was up against this afternoon,” Max chuckled. “One of the nurses called him cranky pants.”

“What?” Ann was angry. “Who?”

“He deserved it,” said Max. “Plus, it motivated him. I would not get upset over it. The whole episode was good for him. Michael needs to do things for himself rather than being pandered to.”

Ann fell silent. Max was right. Eventually they were going to have to let Michael do things on his own. Maybe not everything though. “You are right, I suppose.”

“I am always right,” Max said confidently. “Except when I am wrong.”

Ann smiled. “Tell me about this girl you are engaged to.”

“My favorite subject,” he smiled happily. “Her name is Piaget, and she is the most talented, kind, amazing woman who for some strange reason, likes me.”

Ann watched Max get animated as he described the woman he loved. That was what she wanted. Someone who would be happier just for having her, for loving her. Her heart ached with a bit of envy.

∞

Michael did not envy the speech therapist his job. Ted shoved his glasses up his pudgy nose again and showed off the cartoonish picture cards proudly. He explained that while Michael would never be able to use the word cards, there was no reason that he could not learn to communicate with the picture cards.

“For instance, if you wanted an apple, you might grab the card that has fruit and show it to the person behind the counter in the cafeteria,” Ted held up the card for emphasis. Michael wondered if he had ever worked with adults before.

“Then the clerk might ask what type of fruit you wanted. You could point and nod until you got the apple.”

Maybe he only worked with mentally challenged or brain damaged adults.

Brain damaged like him. Michael resolutely pushed the thought away.

“Or you might want to take a walk. Then you could hold up the walking guy here,” Ted tapped the card.