Chapter Twenty Four - The Tango of Love, Lies, and, Self-respect...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




The gun, Doug knows, has become a part of Serena, an extension of her will to live, and possibly, to kill. It would be so easy to wrap her small trembling hands with his and shoot this man. Adrenaline takes over, a lethal dose fueled by the dark side of his fear. He is high on rage, teetering on the frayed edge of a single moment. Tormented, he struggles to focus. Everything happened so quickly, so perfectly, until an enraged and weaponless Mark charged his wife like a rabid animal.

It’s been a good run, Doug thinks, allowing his index finger to slide over Serena’s and graze the steel curve of the trigger. In his mind’s eye, he sees the first line of his life’s fallen story, the all-important hook. On the outside, Doug Davis had it all. The air is misted with dirt and malice. No one would have guessed him capable of killing, even in self-defense. Everything reeks of cheap whiskey, of this sick man’s breath. But the villain had plagued the English teacher for too long…

“Put your filthy hands up.”

Lori. Lori? She’s alive, here to rescue them. It’s what she does. The woman is amazing at what she does. His mind staggers to the realization.

“Don’t shoot him, Serena. He’s not worth it.”

Doug embraces his trembling wife.

“Besides… ” Lori goes on, gun arm extended, “he’s accrued enough charges to spend the rest of his sorry life behind bars.” The detective, sharp and beautiful, is bookended by Leon and John. The crime trio had, somehow, survived the bomb. Had Serena tipped-off Lori in the cottage? He swallows another round of guilt. What have you done? He had blamed her in the car, after Mark pulled off the wig. Despite being fooled by the Nathan-ruse, Serena had led all of them to safety.  Doug should not have pointed a finger at her.

“She said put your hands up.” Leon uses his size to command compliance, lumbering closer to Mark.

The desire to finish this psycho off itches in Doug’s trembling hands. “I’m thinking our loony toons friend here will plead insanity if he lives, Detective Hearns.”

“He may, but it won’t fly in the courtroom.” She takes a step towards Mark. “The willful, premeditated, and deliberate murder of his mother sort of puts a damper on things.”

“Stop talking about me as though I’m not in the room,” Mark rants, raising his hands in cooperation. “I’ll have you know that it was Little Miss Serena who persuaded me to come here so she could show me what’s inside that worrisome head of hers.”

Leon snaps the handcuffs on Mark’s wrists, shoves him towards the Taurus, and pins him against the driver’s side. “How about you make your life easier, and start with the bomb, Mark. First things first.”

They’re trying to force a confession, Doug thinks. He tightens his coat around Serena, kisses her damp head.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hearns,” Mark spats, “but aren’t you the one who has something to confess around here?”

Ignoring the question, Lori asks, “Did you map out the steps to kill your mother while in rehab?”

“Do you always choose to sleep with married men?”

Leon jerks Mark’s arm up. “Answer her question.”

“I’m going to go get our car, you guys,” the young officer says, darting off.

“Was this part of your original escape plan?” Lori repeats.

Mark’s constrained body impedes his ability to make eye contact. He cranes his neck in the direction of her voice. “I think I’ll exercise my right to remain silent.”

“If you were smart, you’d exercise your right to spit out your guilty-as-hell confession and cling to your one ray of hope,” she paces behind him like a caged animal, “A plea bargain. The penalty for premeditated murder tends to be rough.”

The night is veiled in fog. It stands still and listens to the hidden truths, and to the lies they gave life to. His failure to be there for his wife when she needed him is not the truth, nor is divorcing his son by being unfaithful.

He actually convinced himself, and Serena, that it was in his son’s best interest to work with Lori alone, in lieu of the crime team. Trapped in denial, he truly believed he was doing the right thing. Well, perhaps truly is a strong word, Doug tells himself; because lurking in the shadow of that truth was an attraction to Lori that he willingly chose to nurture.

Gently, he caresses Serena’s thumb and attempts to lower the gun. Why hasn’t he felt the same attraction for her? Regardless, things are back under control. There’s no need to be impulsive now. Lori is in charge.

Back under control.

Doug whispers the words and adjusts to a calmer mindset. His old life is still within reach. A knot of tension loosens in his shoulders, at the base of his neck. It’s time to pull himself—and his wife—back together.

Wrestling from his hold, Serena takes him by surprise. She stands up and points the gun at Mark. “What did you say to my son after you forced him into your car?”

Doug gently touches her shoulder. “Serena, we’ve got it under control. This guy hasn’t a prayer.”

“I have a few of my own prayers to tend to, Doug.” She moves closer to Mark, close enough to touch. Doug follows her. How can he not? His wife, a woman who barely tolerates squirt guns, is angry and holding a loaded .38.

“I asked you a question, you pathetic excuse for a human being.”

“Pathetic excuse for a human being?” Mark digests the words with a meditative blink followed by an uncomfortably long pause. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that, Mrs. Davis?”

Tears threaten, but Serena blinks them back. “Are you asking me to feel bad for you?” Her normally beautiful face curls in a snarl. “After everything you’ve done to us? To my family? You want me to feel bad for you?”

“I’m asking you to think about Doug beating the shit out of Josh every time he fails, and I don’t necessarily mean with his fist. Words are weapons, Serena… remember that.” Mark twists to face her, despite Leon’s grip on him. “I’m asking you to imagine Doug telling your son he’s a fuck-up every single time he makes a mistake and, just for good measure, abandoning him in the cold of the woods just to teach him a lesson.” He begins to cry. “I’m asking you to understand that it wasn’t me who took your child that night. It was the face of my fear, my hurt, and my desperate need to control what can’t be controlled.” He bangs his head on the car door. “I was supposed to be the cool snowboarding instructor offering a night lesson.”

“Tell me!” Serena screams.

Leon glances at the gun in Serena’s hands, then to Lori.

“Serena,” she says, “I want you to listen to me.” She holsters her weapon, holds her hands in the air.

“Shut up!” Stabbing the night air with the .38, Serena’s eyes narrow. “What you’ve done to my marriage… You’re almost as bad as he is, Detective Hearns. Maybe worse.” She squares her feet, swallows. “Now tell me, Mark. Tell me what you said to my son, or so help me—”

“That’s just it,” Mark says. “Don’t you get it? I don’t remember because it wasn’t me in that car with Josh.”

Serena retreats a step. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Mark grins. “It was Steven, Mrs. Davis.” His laughter is colder and darker than even the night itself. “It was Steven all along. You want to know what happened? Ask him the next time you see him… And be sure to give him my regards.”

“Get this lunatic outa’ my face, Leon,” Lori snaps. “Handcuffed or not, he’s dangerous. I’ve called in a crew, Stateys… Restrain him in the Mustang until they show.”

“What happened in that car before the accident?” Serena persists, the gun extended still.

Officer Wynan pulls up with the Mustang and Leon escorts the criminal to the vehicle.

“I can’t remember!” Mark shouts, laughing. “But he does, Mrs. Davis! He knows!”

Doug places a gentle hand on her shoulder and, together, they watch Leon force Mark into the backseat of the Mustang before a gigantic Leon slams the door shut, locks it and stands on guard outside of the car.

Tears streaking her face, Serena hands the gun to Lori. His coat hangs big on her.

“Thanks for all of your help,” Doug says. “We were a good team.” His wife nods pensively. “Hey, honey, cheer up. At least we got him.”

“You did a great job hanging tough during that miserable ride,” Lori adds. “Especially you, Serena. Most people would have cracked under the pressure. You thought of a way out. That’s something to be proud of.”

“It sure is,” Doug agrees.

Serena’s watery gray eyes settle on his. “When it comes to protecting our child, there’s always a way out, Doug.”

“I’m proud of you, Serena.”

“I know you are… and I appreciate the compliment. But your actions, Doug, do not support what you’re proud of and, for that reason, you’re going to have find another woman to be reckless with… Lori, perhaps you will be the lucky winner.”

“Serena, listen to me. Your husband and I don’t belong together. Don’t be fooled by one careless and stupid night. I’d like to say that I’m sorry to you but, somehow, I don’t think it will cut it. Choose your marriage. And for the sake of your child, choose love.”

“I’m not sure that you’re a credible source to preach on love, Lori, but I’ll tell you this. My choice to respect myself reflects my love for Josh more than you’ll ever know. The rest will just have to fall into place… or not. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I need to freshen up.”

His wife walks away.

WINNING BIG

For a small town, the baseball players of Sutton sure know how to win big.


The Sutton Youth Baseball League tournament teams, under the direction of President Joseph Charielle and Vice President Sandy Burke, have competed aggressively for the past three years. In 2009, the nine-year-old all star team won the Cal RipkenWestern Mass State Championship and went on to finish 3rd in the Regional Finals. In 2010, the same group (now 10 year old team) again won the Western Mass State Championship and advanced to the Regional tournament, placing 5th. Also in 2010, the 9-12 age groups all advanced to the final championship game in the Uxbridge tournament, with the 10's and 11's winning the tournament. Additionally in 2010, the 9 year olds placed 3rd in the state tournament and the 11 year olds 5th. Finally in 2010, the 11/12 year old teams won the Blackstone Memorial Day Tournament for the second year in a row.



So… what’s their secret?

As an involved parent and third-year scorekeeper for the league, I’ve seen a lot of baseball. Fusing my observations with a laid-back interview with the league’s President, I thought I’d spread some good news. After all, the Red Sox have been slow to deliver.

According to Charielle, the key to successful tournament play lies in priming pitchers at an early age. By signing on to tee-ball by age five, teaching the right way to throw during Farm League, and allowing developmentally-ready ball players to move up to Minors by age eight, young boys come to the field seasoned by the time they’ve lost a set of molars.

This sounds so simple, like placing your glove down to catch a grounder. But what about the bad bounce? Just when we think we have baseball all figured out, we’re thrown a curve ball. We forget to consider the whole picture.

That’s where the coaching staff and Board of Directors come in.

The Board of Directors (Joe Charielle, Sandy Burke, Julianne Genatossio, Mike Cotoia and Brian Hebert) work endless hours on field maintenance, rosters, team scheduling, parent questions, league insurance and national chartering to keep the league strong and focused on their first priority—the kids.

Under SYBL provisions, the tournament coaches are required to hold a Ripken certification—one prioritizing good sportsmanship. Furthermore, Sutton coaches tend to rise through the ranks with their own kids; thereby gaining valuable experience along the way. The League strives for consistency, along with happy coaches. A bigger challenge, according to Charielle, is to keep the kids playing. As early as age eleven, players often stray from the sport, pursuing interests that supersede a love for baseball.

A love for baseball.

How do coaches manage to keep that passion alive?

I’ve attended enough baseball games to be as pumped-up about these athletic leaders as an enhanced Manny. I’ve watched Coach Cotoia step up for the safe third-base runner on the opposing team, and listened to Coach Genatassio encourage his new pitcher, despite the pocketful of veterans who could have played the position more competitively. Thanks to Coach Girouard, our boys are still shaking off mistakes and they can count on Coach Burke to recognize a great play made, regardless of whose team they’re playing for.

SYBL coaches practice integrity, on and off the field, and though they’re not perfect (who is, really?) they’re passionate about the needs of their players. They lead by example. And so shouldn’t we, the parents.

Parent involvement accounts for an added strength of the league. Community events such as Earth Day Clean-up and Opening Day are centralized at Hough Field, where the smells and sounds of baseball float through the air like an infield fly. Here, the children of SYBL see parents and coaches working together.

The Concession stand is stacked higher than a Yankee’s payroll. The candy is plentiful. The drinks are varied. The grill is massive. When it comes to cooking a burger, Coach Hebert sizzles. In short, a spirit of team work and generosity dwells at Hough Field.

Friendships are built. Memories are made. And the Sutton Youth Baseball players, along with competing, are winning big.

That’s something to be proud of.





Amy LeClaire

amyleclaire@hotmail.com