The clanging of his head striking the metal pipes under the sink sounded like a church bell leading Terry Wallace to come within a hairsbreadth of launching into a profanity-laced tirade, but he caught himself at the last minute just barely holding it in.
"You o.k. under there?" said a voice from outside.
"Yeah, Grandpa, I'm fine."
"Hit your head didn't ya?"
"Yes, I did."
"Bet that hurt like Hell."
"Grandpa! Watch your language. There are kids around. Why do you think I wasn't cussing a blue streak?"
"Ha! Kids these days are too soft. A few little curse words gonna ruin them for life or something?"
Terry slid out from under the sink where he had been trying with mixed results for the past hour to fix a leak. His grandfather, a cantankerous old man, staring his seventy-ninth birthday square in the face looked down at him.
"No, Grandpa, but we should still set a good example for them. This is a daycare, after all, people count on us not just to watch out for their kids, but to be an example of good behavior."
"I'm too old to worry about setting examples for a bunch of kids. You need to invest in earplugs for the little suckers."
"I'll add it to the list along with new plumbing for this entire dump. I have no idea how Mom kept this place running."
"Did you fix the leak?"
"It will hold for now, but we need a professional to do the job right."
"So hire a pro."
Terry didn't even bother to reply. He knew all too well that their current budgetary situation precluded any such extravagances like hiring a real plumber.
When he had gotten the call a year earlier that his Mom was in the hospital having suffered a stroke, Terry Wallace had been trying to live his dream. He had just been promoted to the next level in the Houston Astros system, "A" Ball in Davenport, Iowa, it was a jump over the rookie league where he had started. It seemed like maybe things were finally taking off for the twenty-two-year-old after four years of playing in the low minors. The lack of power in his swing had made him harder to notice than the big boys who swung for the fences, but Terry had tried to make up for it with speed and defense. He was starting to make contact more often at the plate, and if he got on, he knew he could make the pitcher nervous with his ability to go to second with even a small jump. He was never going to be a big money player, but he thought he was beginning to carve out a niche of his own.
Then the phone call came.
He had rushed back home to find his Mom clinging to life with his grandpa sitting by her side. Terry had already lost his Dad to a heart attack when he was still in high school. It seemed ridiculously unfair to now be sitting by his mother's bedside watching her slip away too.
"Mom?"
Her voice was so weak he had to lean in to hear her speak.
"Terry, Baby...I was afraid...I wouldn't get...to see you..."
"I'm here, Mom. The doctors say you need to rest if you're going to get better," he lied.
"Don't...pa...patro...patronize me...I know this is it...I need something from you, Terry. Please...Don't let them close my school...so many folks...depend on...us...please."
The daycare school had always been his Mom's dream. She had opened it with his father's help when Terry had been just two years old. He had been one of its first students. His mom had called it "Grandma's House" because she wanted to invoke an image that was safe in the minds of the little ones that went there. The school had grown slowly bringing in kids from the surrounding neighborhoods until, eventually, they had enough income to expand adding a Pre-K classroom as well as building a full-size outdoor play area complete with swings, jungle gym, and a merry-go-round. Terry's grandpa had built a sandbox large enough to accommodate a couple of dozen kids at once.
Grandma's House had flourished for a time, but when they started to open bigger, fancier franchised daycare centers nearby it had begun to eat into their clientèle. By the time Terry had graduated from high school, the business was starting to decline, but if his mom had felt any pressure, she never showed it. The woman loved children, and they seemed to gravitate toward her as well. She was determined to give them the best care she could, and she always tried to make the school a welcoming and happy place.
"When these kids come here, especially for the first time, their going to be scared. A lot of them have never been away from their moms and dads, so we owe it to them to make this transition as easy as possible," she had told Terry one sunny afternoon.
Terry had listened and been proud of what his mom was accomplishing, but the school had never really been his dream. He had wanted to be a pro ball player from the time he was in Kindergarten. If he wasn't the most gifted athlete he certainly worked hard, and that perseverance started to pay off by the time he was a freshman at Donner West High School. He had learned early on that with his frame he would likely never hit for power, but he was fast and had a good glove. That combination of defense in the outfield and base stealing ability had caught the eye of a few scouts, and Terry had been selected in the late rounds of the Major League draft.
After his Mom's death, Terry had tried in vain to find someone else to take over the business, but other than his grandpa whose health wouldn't allow it, there were no close relatives or friends who were interested. He couldn't blame them giving the declining attendance. The idea of selling had occurred to him on many occasions, but he had promised his mother on her death bed to keep the school open. It didn't seem right to go back on that promise.
"Earth to Terry? You going to answer the phone or what?"
"Huh? Oh! Right..." said Terry realizing he had been daydreaming and that the phone in his office was ringing.
He shut the door behind him dropping into the chair by the desk. The old wood creaked beneath him, and he wondered if it would continue to hold his weight.
"You should have at least replaced the chair, Mom," he thought absently.
"Grandma's House! This is Terry speaking."
"Terry! My friend! How's it hanging brother?"
"Miguel? Oh Wow! It's so good to hear your voice. Things are...Um...Good. How about you?"
"I can't complain. If I can just get my curveball over a little more consistently, I think I can start turning some heads around here."
Terry had met Miguel Esperanza while playing rookie ball. Miguel was a left-handed pitcher with a wicked fastball, but some serious control issues. The first time Terry had batted against him in practice Miguel had drilled him so hard in the head Terry had seen double for a full day afterward. The two had become roommates and close friends on and off the field. The one thing Terry missed almost as much as playing the game was his friend, Miguel.
"What can I do for you, Miguel?"
"I do need a favor. My sister, Gabriella, lives in your area and she just lost her job at the Super-Mart. I was hoping that you could give her a chance at your place. She studied "Early Childhood Education" at the university but had to drop out when my mom got sick. She knows her stuff though when it comes to kids."
"I don't know, Miguel..." waffled Terry.
He could barely afford the people he had on staff now.
"Come on, Dude. I swear she is aces! Just give her a chance."
"I tell you what. Send her over and let me meet her. We will see where it goes from there, O.K.?"
"Thanks, Terry, I knew I could count on you. Shit! I got to go, Man! Batting practice is starting. We miss you around here!"
