Max didn’t hesitate long. “Sorry, fellas, I promised Marcia I’d take her to get ice cream. I guess I’ll have to catch the picture another time.”
The other boys didn’t stay to coax, but called good bye over their shoulders as they raced away toward the one theater the town had.
“Come on, Marsh,” Max urged. “Let’s get some ice cream. I’m hot.”
“Max,” Marcia’s words were a whisper. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the movies? I can wait.”
But Max shook his head decidedly. “Nope. I’d rather have ice cream than popcorn. I’ll race you there!”
As the children, breathless and hot from their run, turned the corner, Max bumped right into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I shouldn’t–” What he shouldn’t do was left unsaid, for he stared up into a pair of twinkling eyes and his own grew wide.
With an easy grin, the tall, lean man laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Son, I shouldn’t have been taking up the entire sidewalk.”
“Maxwell Burton!” The name burst from Max’s throat in a breathless gasp. “What . . . what are you doing here? Are the Sluggers playing nearby?”
A puzzled look came into the man’s eyes, though he didn’t lose his smile. “No, we don’t have any games this weekend. Are a fan of the Brookfield Sluggers?”
Max nodded. “Yes. I’m Maxwell Burton Reeves.”
“Reeves?” The ball player gave a slight start. “You’re not the son of Tim Reeves, are you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No wonder you look familiar. You’re the spitting image of your Dad.” He shook his head. “I should have recognized you right away. Where’s your dad anyway? Do you live here? Who is with you?”
“This here’s my sister, Marcia.” Max pulled his younger sister up beside him. “We’re living with our uncle and aunt here now. Dad and Mama–” He hesitated and tried to swallow the lump that rose in his throat while he blinked back the sudden tears. “They died several months ago.” His voice wasn’t quite steady and his eyes dropped to the sidewalk.
A hand was placed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Max, Marcia. Your father was a good friend and a swell ball player.”
For a moment there was silence and then Mr. Burton asked, “Say, do you kids like ice cream?”
“Sure we do. That’s where we were going.” Max, quickly recovering his usual poise, closed his hand around the bulge in his pocket. His ball was still there.
“Well, what do you say we all get some then, and have a nice visit. My treat.”
Once they were seated at a table with their ice cream, Mr. Burton, with a few skillfully put questions and remarks, soon had Max talking away. “I was going to ask my aunt Kate if I could go to your game against the Bentenville Indians a few weeks ago, but Uncle Eli came and we moved out here with him and Aunt Betsy before the match. Who won that game?”
“We did. It was close though, and for a while it looked doubtful, but our top hitter saved the day.”
Max sighed and took a bite of his chocolate ice cream. He wished he could have seen the game, but if he’d stayed at Aunt Kate’s, he wouldn’t be sitting and eating ice cream with his favorite player.
“Do you play ball, Max?”
“When I can. I don’t play in a regular team ‘cause there isn’t one here. Marcia pitches for me in the field behind the house when the other boys aren’t around.”
“But I’m not a very good pitcher,” Marcia volunteered shyly.
Mr. Burton smiled at her. “I’m sure Max appreciates your effort. By the way, are your aunt and uncle home? I’d like to talk to your uncle again.”
“You knew Uncle Eli too?” Max stared across the table at the friendly ball player. This day was getting more exciting by the minute. “But Uncle Eli didn’t play ball.”
“No, he didn’t,” Mr. Burton chuckled. “But I didn’t live in the ball parks. Your dad and I did many things together before we joined the team and often your uncle joined us.”
“Uncle Eli and Aunt Betsy are gone right now . . .” Marcia began.
“But they might be back soon.” Max wanted to spend as much time as possible with his hero and perhaps if Uncle Eli wasn’t at home yet . . . “We could always walk back home and wait for them if they aren’t there.” His dish of ice cream was almost empty. He had been talking so much that he was the last one to finish.
“I’d offer seconds on ice cream,” Mr. Burton said, “but if we’re going to go play some ball--”
Max jerked his head up, not noticing the chocolate ice cream he had spilled down his shirt. “Play ball? Us?”
“I don’t see anyone else around,” Maxwell Burton laughed after a quick glance about the nearly empty room. “Sure I mean us. Unless of course you’d rather not. I just noticed you had a ball in your pocket, and thought perhaps if your uncle and aunt weren’t home yet . . .”
Max couldn’t keep back a grin. This was better than any dream he had imagined. “Come on, what are we waiting for?” Springing to his feet, he was barely in time to catch his chair from crashing to the smooth floor.
Standing on the porch, Max heaved a deep sigh of contentment. It had been the best day he’d had for a long time. Not only had he and Marcia gotten to eat ice cream with Maxwell Burton, the ball player of his dreams, but Mr. Burton had spent half an afternoon coaching him on his ball playing. And if that weren’t enough, Uncle Eli and Aunt Betsy had invited Mr. Burton to stay for supper, and he had agreed.
“Have a good day, Max?” Uncle Eli let the screen door shut with a soft thud as he came out onto the porch. The lightning bugs were flashing here and there, cicadas hummed from the trees, and the first few stars peeked from the darkening heavens.
“It was the best, Uncle Eli. I’m glad we decided to come live here with you and Aunt Betsy. It feels like home.” His uncle’s hand rested on his shoulder. “And I’m glad I didn’t agree to go to the theater this afternoon with the boys.” Pulling something from his pocket, Max looked at it in the dim, solitary porch light. “He gave me a new ball, Uncle Eli, and he signed it too.”
The End
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