The Truth About Tara

The beach where he was renting a cottage wasn’t wide enough or long enough for running, so he’d jogged along the narrow road through the maritime forest that bordered the salt marsh. He’d also performed the series of shoulder exercises the team doctor had prescribed before the Mud Dogs released him, driven into Wawpaney to buy some toiletries at the drugstore and eaten a sandwich he’d slapped together.

The local newspaper he’d bought at the convenience store lay on the butcher-block kitchen table. He picked it up, struck again by how thin it was. It wouldn’t take long to read.

With the newspaper in hand, he headed out to the porch that was just steps from the bay. The low rent on the one-bedroom cottage hadn’t made sense until he saw the collection of modest homes on either side of a mile-long street that made up the community. If the houses hadn’t been parallel to the water, there’d be nothing special about them. As the Realtor in Onancock had claimed, however, the location couldn’t be beaten.

With a narrow expanse of beach just steps from the porch, the warm, salty scent of the Chesapeake Bay in his nostrils and the sound of the lapping waves filling his ears, Jack had to admit she was right. The setting would be even more perfect on a day that wasn’t overcast.

He was about to sit down on one of the plastic Adirondack chairs when he noticed two local girls in bikinis about fifteen yards away staring at him. From their gangly figures and coltish legs, he judged them to be about thirteen or fourteen. Their heads were together and their shoulders shook as though they were giggling. The thinner of the two broke away from the other girl and headed straight for him. She stopped just shy of the porch.

“Hey, mister, can I ask you something?” She was still giggling. The sun glinted off something silver and Jack realized she wore braces.

“Sure.” He figured the girls had some kind of bet going.

“Are you famous?”

Jack supposed it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that one of the girls had recognized him, although the world he lived in seemed very far away.

“Are you a baseball fan?” he asked.

She seemed surprised by the question. “Sort of. But I know you’re not a baseball player.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s baseball season right now,” she said. “You’d be playing. You wouldn’t be here.”

He nodded. Of course she didn’t know him from baseball. He’d made three appearances in the major leagues in nine years, none lasting longer than a few innings. Only the most hard-core fan would recognize his name. Even fewer would know his face.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not famous,” he said. “Who did you think I was, anyway?”

“We weren’t sure,” she said. “But we thought maybe Ryan Reynolds.”

“Ryan who?”

“Green Lantern,” she said.

“What’s that?”

She giggled again. “A movie about a comic-book character. Ryan Reynolds is a movie star.”

“Oh.” Jack didn’t see many movies.

She turned and ran back to her friend, sand kicking up under her feet. Jack sat down, aware his mood had darkened.

He wasn’t sure why. For as long as he could remember he’d dreamed of becoming a pro baseball player, not of being famous. When he’d brushed elbows with his superstar teammates during his brief stints in the majors, fame hadn’t looked attractive.

The most famous of them, a center fielder who’d won a couple of batting titles, had to switch hotels because of the autograph seekers who mobbed him in the lobby. Somebody had told Jack the player was a virtual recluse in the off-season because it was so difficult for him to go out in public.

No, it wasn’t lack of fame that nagged at Jack.

It was the reminder that baseball season was in full swing and he was here at an out-of-the-way beach community on the Eastern Shore instead of on the mound where he belonged.

“What now?” Jack asked himself sarcastically. “You’re going to start feeling sorry for yourself?”

That wasn’t his style. Neither was talking to himself.

He’d already identified the problem. He had too much time on his hands. Too bad he wasn’t one of the sun worshippers who could while away the hours on the beach. Another workout was in his future, but not until at least early evening when his muscles had recovered from his morning exercises. Swimming in the bay was tempting, but he feared his shoulder wasn’t yet up to it. He needed to curb his enthusiasm until he could meet with the fitness consultant the guy at the health club had recommended when he’d stopped by the night before.

Jack turned his attention to the newspaper, not exactly sure why he’d picked it up instead of the thicker regional paper. Reading that would have taken longer.

He skimmed a front-page story about a crabber who’d been harvesting the Chesapeake for almost fifty years, scanned a story about beach erosion and skipped a detailed account of the latest Northampton County Board of Supervisors meeting.

He flipped through the rest of the newspaper, finding little to catch his interest. He was about to refold the paper when two words in bold type jumped out at him: Volunteer Opportunities.

Of course. The answer to his boredom. He could volunteer.

He read through the listings, keeping a mental tally of activities that might suit him. Delivering meals to shut-ins. Picking up trash off the beach. Helping kids learn to read.

All the opportunities seemed possible, but none seemed quite right until he reached the last listing.

No experience necessary! Help needed at Camp Daybreak, a summer program in Cape Charles for children with developmental disabilities. You bring the energy. We’ll provide the guidance.

The listing included the name and phone number of a contact as well as other particulars about the camp. It went from 9:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. daily for the next two weeks and started...today.

This camp was, without a doubt, the one that Tara Greer’s brother, Danny, was attending.

Adrenaline surged through Jack for the first time all day. Not only might volunteering at Camp Daybreak bring him back into contact with Tara, he genuinely enjoyed being around children like Danny. Because of his cousin’s son, he even had some limited experience.

If volunteering awarded him a chance to change Tara’s mind about him, so much the better. He’d seen Tara again last night when he’d stopped by the fitness club. She’d been smiling and laughing, her upbeat personality and a good cheer shining through even as she pedaled faster and faster. He’d been tempted to stick around until her class ended, but was afraid she wouldn’t believe it was a chance encounter.

Jack leaped to his feet and went into the rented cottage to find his cell phone. One voice-mail message later, he disconnected the call and made a snap decision. Camp Daybreak didn’t end for another three and a half hours. Three and a half hours that would be interminable if Jack spent them here alone.

He had the address of the camp. Why not volunteer his services in person?

CHAPTER FOUR

CARRIE GREER FIGURED now was as good a time as any to get this over with. Actually, considering camp had started a few hours before and the children were settling down to lunch, it was past time.

If nothing else, the confrontation would take her mind off the approaching anniversary of the saddest day of her life and Tara’s odd plea to see a baby photo of herself. Carrie always had trouble sleeping in the days leading up to the anniversary. Last night she’d tossed and turned even more than usual, wondering what had prompted Tara’s request and worrying that her daughter hadn’t bought her explanation.

She shoved the problem to the back of her mind. Now wasn’t the time to obsess over things she couldn’t change, not when the director of Camp Daybreak was alone in the community center’s small office.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Tara.

“Sure thing.” Her daughter glanced up from the long table in the all-purpose room where she was helping one of the ten campers unpack his lunch. The other nine were happily munching on the sandwiches, chips, fruit and assorted goodies they’d brought from home in their packed lunches.

“Bye, C-Carrie!” Danny waved, his face wreathed in the biggest smile he’d worn since coming to live with her. Just as Carrie suspected, this camp was exactly what Danny needed.

She forgave herself for tricking Tara into volunteering by telling her Danny’s tuition would be waived. There was a kernel of truth in the claim, since the children of volunteers got the first week free. With both Carrie and Tara helping out at the camp, Carrie had a strong argument for not having to pay for the second week.