Aaron laughed without humor.
“Too tired. Too hot. Bad knees. Didn’t feel like crowds.”
Then he looked at Noah.
“Dad could sit on that porch every Saturday watching you mow, but he couldn’t come watch his own grandson play ball.”
Noah flinched.
Aaron immediately looked guilty.
“I spent years thinking he didn’t care.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“I know.”
“It’s just…”
Aaron rubbed both hands over his face.
“I spent years thinking he didn’t care.”
Noah held out the glove.
At Franklin Field, we searched for almost half an hour.
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“Then maybe you should come.”
Aaron stared at him.
Finally, he took it.
At Franklin Field, we searched for almost half an hour.
A groundskeeper finally waved us toward the concession stand, where Mr. Vance had left an envelope in a sealed box months earlier.
Inside was a letter.
