Seems Like Old Times (39 page)

Slowly, as Lee put the pieces together into one final
tape, the package was complete. She was pleased by it. Her fear that it would
backfire with the public had been put aside. True, the public was fickle, but
thirteen years as a newscaster had taught her how to slant the news anyway she
wanted and
have
the public think it was getting the
unvarnished truth. Journalism, especially TV journalism, was a lot more about
propaganda than anyone wanted to admit to.

Late Monday night, Tony phoned her. He was no longer in Arizona,
but back in Miwok. His 'hello' was so subdued she barely recognized his voice.
"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I've been better."

"Coaching?"

"Hell, I stunk up the place. My only hope is there's
some near-sighted major league manager out there who's really desperate."

"I’m sorry," she murmured.

"I called about the show you were working on, the one
about Ben," he said quickly. "My custody hearing is Thursday. You
aren’t still going through with Ben’s story, are you?"

She drew in her breath. "Of course I am. It will air
on One Hour Report tomorrow night."

"Shit. Can you pull it?"

"Pull it? Why?"

"It’s a bad idea. Catherine’s furious. Her lawyers
are howling. I don’t want to deal with it."

"I've seen these things work before. My own reaction
is that the piece came out really well. It doesn’t show you doing everything
perfectly. Trying to get back into baseball at age thirty-six isn’t easy, and
the camera shows just how hard it is for you."

"So on top of everything else, I get to look like a
jerk on national TV."

"You look...wonderful."

His shock at her words came through the phone lines, even
though he didn’t reply. She guessed he didn't know what to say to that, and
neither did she. But she'd told him the truth.

"Don’t show it, Lisa."

She bit her bottom lip a moment. "It's a good
story."

"I’ve changed my mind about it."

"Don’t worry. It’ll be fine."

"Lisa..."

"It’s too late, Tony."

"I don’t want to chance it!"

"I’m sorry."

"Damn it, will you listen to me. I don’t want the
goddamned thing on the air. We’re talking about my son."

"I know what I’m doing, Tony."

"
You fucking
well
better!" He hung up.

Her heart pounded. She would show it, no matter what Tony
or anyone else said. She was proud of the segment. She felt as if she’d devoted
her life, her dreams, her youth, everything, to her career. In this segment,
though, she felt as if she’d gotten back, a little bit at least, of her soul.

o0o

Tuesday, she nearly collapsed from nervousness. What if
she was wrong and Tony was right? What if the segment made it even harder for
him to get Ben
back.
Who was she to interfere?
Or to open herself up this way?

She'd never done anything so nostalgic or emotional
before. She was letting people see a whole new side of her. Would they laugh?
She’d lectured Tony on not being afraid to show himself openly. She needed to
take her own advice--let Lee Reynolds’s heart show, for a single ten minute
segment.

For the first time since One-Hour Report began, her legs
felt wooden as she walked to the staged TV set. To viewers, it looked like a
large, expensive chamber. In fact, it was about eight feet across and plywood.
Cameras aimed at her, lights blared white hot. Aaron Josephs kept giving her
odd looks as if pleading with her to loosen up. She couldn’t. When the show
began, her hands shook so badly she had to fold them and keep them on her lap
or anyone would have known that there was something terribly wrong. Somehow,
she got through the first forty-five minutes of the show. Jake Metcalf leaned
back in his chair, smiling broadly as he conversed with his two assistants.

Although the segment break seemed endless, at the same
time, hearing the producer’s voice in her earpiece giving the ten-second
countdown to show time made her jump with nervousness. Coming up was her
segment.
Hers alone.
Josephs sat back and watched
along with hundreds of thousands of viewers.

The commercial ended. The camera light came on.

Looking into the lens, Lee Reynolds sat poised and
self-assured. She smiled and took a deep breath as she read the teleprompter.
"Hot dogs, peanuts, and baseball.
What could be more
American? Today, the popularity of baseball has reached new heights. From
sandlots to major league diamonds, more people than ever before are playing and
watching the sport. For many, organized baseball begins with Little League. And
for some, it's more than just a game..."

The tape rolled.

[Wide-angle short of California coast hills, small town
nestled in valley, zoom in for close up.]

 This is Miwok California.

[Street scenes of Old Town, using rose tinted filters.
Quiet streets, kids on bikes, casual, slow paced.]

 Located just thirty miles north of San Francisco,
Miwok has been spared most of the hubbub, turmoil and strife of the city and
its surrounding Bay Area communities like Oakland and Berkeley. Instead, the
residents of Miwok live a quiet, safe existence, much as they did many years
ago.

[Park scene, kids playing baseball.]

 In this town, Little League flourishes. Ben Santos
is the shortstop on a team called the Bruins....

[Camera zooms in on Ben standing between second and third
base, staring hard at the batter.]

Against the background of a Little League game, Lee's
voice-over quickly described Ben’s family situation--the custody trial and the
decision that Ben would live with his mother, and visit his father, former
major-league player Tony Santos, four weeks each year. The large,
white-pillared, formal house of Ben's mother and new step-father, Dr. Graham
Durelle
, was shown. The house stood in stark contrast to
shots presenting the casual ambiance of the Circle Z and the Little League
game.

[Cut to video of Tony and Ben together at Little League
game.]

Tony Santos gave up his career to raise his child in the
best way he knew how. He isn't sure what caused the judge to take his son away
from him. He doesn't know if it's because he's a single father who never
remarried, or because his small ranch doesn't bring as much profit in a year as
Dr. Graham
Durelle
makes in a month performing
p1astic surgery for the rich and famous, or—and he personally doubts this—if it
was simply a cage of ugly, old-fashioned prejudice against the son of a Mexican
ranch hand.

[Scenes of Tony diving for halls,
colliding with the catcher at home plate, standing in the batter's box.]

 He believes that if he can become involved in
baseball, perhaps as a coach this time, instead of just a small horse rancher
from a tiny town called Miwok, he might have a chance of winning Ben back. So
he practices long hours, and hopes for a miracle.

[Scene of Tony striking out at the
plate.]

But baseball is a game in which miracles do happen.

[Scene of Ben hitting a homerun and
running the bases.]

And spring training is a time for growth, a time for
change, and a time for hope.

[Scene of Ben sitting on front steps of
enormous
Durelle
mansion holding a baseball.
He tosses his baseball into the air and catches it, over and over. The camera
pulls back and the image of Ben becomes smaller and smaller as the scene
fades.]

The tape ended. The light on the camera aimed at Lee
flashed on. She blinked, then released her clenched
fingers,
and, unsmiling, faced the camera. "This is Lee Reynolds in New York,"
she said, her voice throaty. "Good night."

As the camera switched off, the released tension of the
live show broke loose. People laughed and shouted at each other and the
dismantling of the set began.

Her co-host, Aaron Josephs, shook her hand heartily for
the Little League piece, while several women who worked the
Kyron
and other equipment came over and told her how moved they were by Ben's story.

Jake stopped her as she was going to take off her make-up.
"You better watch out, Lee."

"What?" She was shocked. Had the complaints
begun already? "What do you mean?"

"Any more schlocky pieces like that and you're going
to have to turn in your Ms. Hard-ass badge. Good work!"

He strode off down the hall, leaving Lee gaping at him in
astonishment.

o0o

That night, when she got home, her answering machine was
filled with messages from friends and colleagues, as well as Miriam, Cheryl and
others in Miwok telling her the piece about Ben was beautiful and touching.

The accolades continued the next day. Scenes from the film
kept playing over and over again in her mind. Miwok had put on its best face
for the film crew. It looked beautiful.
So green, so many
flowers, the broad oaks, the bays, the weeping willows, the colorful gardens.

Only one thing marred her happiness. Despite all the
congratulations, the one reaction she most
wanted,
didn’t come. She received no word from Tony.

Tony Santos appeared at the courthouse Thursday morning.
Vic was with him. The day after the airing of the One Hour Report segment, Tony
had received an offer from a minor league team to be a coach. He had three days
to give them his decision. He was thankful the offer gave him something
definite to tell the judge. If it meant keeping Ben, he'd coach the Devil
himself.

Tony had brought some evidence regarding Ben’s wishes to
offer the judge. He had a stack of letters from his son. One, in particular, he
hoped the judge would read. It was the reason Tony had gone back to baseball.

He ran his fingers over the small packet of pencil smeared
envelopes. He lifted a letter
out,
the one post marked
November 10th, opened it, and skimmed it once more. Ben wrote that his mother
was being quite nice to him, and Dr.
Durelle
was as
well. He had lots of games and toys, and he got to ride in a Mercedes to school
and back each day. But then he asked about his horse, Evening Star, and about
the ranch, and his best friend, Zach, and his room, and his old
toys...."She's nice to me, Dad," Tony's gaze slowed as he neared the
end of the letter, "and I think she's trying real hard to make me happy.
But this isn't home. She says it is, but it isn't, and you're not here. I miss
you. Sometimes I even cry. I know nine year olds aren't supposed to cry, but I
can't help it. I hope you don't think I'm a baby. I just want to come home.
Can't you do something? Please, Dad, I don't like it here. Tell Star not to
forget me, okay? I love you. Ben."

Tony stared at the letter a long moment, then, his lips in
a grim line, he carefully refolded it and tucked it back into its envelope.

Ben had also sent a couple of letters to Vic, and Tony had
those with him as well. Ben asked Vic to be sure to take care of Tony, much to
Tony's amusement and heartache. He'd never realized his son worried about him;
he had thought only fathers did that.

He'd gotten a number of calls about Lisa's show on Ben,
telling him how much the callers admired what he was trying to do, and
expressing how bad they felt about the custody fight. One aspect of the show,
though, embarrassed him. He wasn't being half so noble in going back to
baseball again as the show made him out to be. He loved baseball. It had been
his life as far back as he could remember. To be out there again, to smell the
clean air and pine tar, to feel the smooth, warm leather of the glove, the
springy grass under his feet, to have the camaraderie of the other players,
were things he loved. He was grateful to realize that some teams still wanted
his help, even if it was as a scout or a coach and no longer as a position
player. And yet, to realize he couldn't play well any longer, to come face to
face with his own aging and mortality, that part was painful.

Etched forever in his memory, too, was that last scene of
Ben, tossing his baseball and looking so alone as he sat on the stone steps in
front of that enormous house. That image of his son bolstered Tony's
determination to do all he could to get Ben back, and for that he applauded
Lisa's program even more.

His attorney rushed down the corridor toward him, a big
smile on the man's face. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Santos," Manning said,
"but I was on the phone with Mrs.
Durelle's
lawyer. Good news. Mrs.
Durelle
is dropping her
case."

Tony slowly rose to his feet. "What did you
say?"

"You've won. All they're asking is that the joint
custody
stand
so that Catherine will continue to have
some say in her son's upbringing, and that you let Ben spend some time each
summer with her. Other than that, he'll live, full time, with you."

"I don't get it. Is this a trick?"

"Apparently not.
It seems a
number of Dr.
Durelle's
associates, friends, and
patients were not pleased with his wife's behavior, both the way she abandoned
her son when he was an infant, and the fact that she took him from his father
now. I guess all that targeted publicity in Beverly Hills for the TV story
about Ben paid off. Lots of
Durelle’s
friends watched
it. As much as they sympathized with his wife’s position, they seemed to think
it wasn't 'fair.'

"Dr.
Durelle
has always
prided himself on being absolutely upstanding and fair in everything he ever
did. Having received so many critical calls from people he thought well of has
greatly disturbed him. In addition, it seems Catherine's perception of how much
fun it would be to raise a son was at great variance with how difficult it, in
fact, is. She's decided motherhood isn't for everyone and, in particular, not
for her. Does all of this sound plausible to you, Mr. Santos?"