Free Small-Town Mom by Jean C. Gordon Page B

Jamie at Karen’s matter-of-fact statement, as if Jamie might have been at church, hadn’t stopped going months ago.
    “Congratulations to everyone.”
    “Thanks,” the expectant grandparents said.
    Jamie stood. “I might as well give it a go.” She lifted her ball, sighted it with the head pin, took her four steps and let it rip.
    The pins flew with a resounding crash, reminding her of how, after John’s death, she’d projected her anger at him, the war, God and the world at large onto the pins. It had helped, in a fashion.
    The last pin standing wobbled and fell. A strike.
    Karen and Tom clapped.
    “Nice ball.”
    It couldn’t be. Jamie spun around.
    “Do you know Eli Payton?” Karen asked. “He’s our fourth.”
    Jamie swallowed. “Yes, he’s Myles’s guidance counselor.”
    “Then I don’t have to make introductions,” Karen said.
    “No, no need,” Jamie said, wondering if her clipped words sounded as rude to her teammates as they did to her. But bowling was her getaway from life’s problems. And Eli Payton had every sign of proving to be a problem. “I need to get something to eat. Do any of you want me to order you something?”
    Tom looked over at the line by the snack bar. “You’ll miss the rest of practice.”
    “I have a feeling I won’t need it.” All I’ll have to do is think of Eli and Myles and the rifle course at the American Legion that Myles is still bugging me about.
    * * *
    Eli watched Jamie weave her way across the bowling alley. She must not have asked who the fourth team member was. He hoped it wouldn’t matter. When Karen had told him Jamie was going to join their team, he’d thought it would be fun to spend some time with her socially rather than as Myles’s guidance counselor.
    “You ditching practice, too?” Tom asked, eyeing the score sheet with their averages on the table behind him.
    “The way I bowled last week, I’d better not.”
    “You’ve got that right.”
    Eli stepped down to the lane. Tom was a serious bowler. Eli enjoyed the sport, win or lose. He took his shot and hit the head pin dead-on, leaving a pin standing in the back row on either side of the lane—a seven-ten split. He moved aside to let the next bowler take the pickup shot.
    Tom waved him back. “You need practice on this shot more than I do.”
    All right. He had shot more than his share of splits last week. Tom didn’t have to remind him. He stepped up and put exactly the right curve on the ball so that it struck the ten pin on the right side and kicked it to the left. Eli held his breath. Not enough. The ten pin rolled back off the lane without hitting the seven.
    “Wow! I thought you had it.” Jamie placed her cheeseburger and drink on the table overlooking the lane.
    Tom cut short Eli’s enjoyment of Jamie’s compliment. “You should have gotten behind it more.”
    Eli bristled. “I know.” He didn’t need Tom telling him how to bowl. Or was it that he didn’t need Tom telling him how to bowl in front of Jamie?
    The sixty-second countdown to the end of practice ticked off.
    “You’ve got time for another ball,” Tom urged.
    Eli glanced back at Jamie, who was engrossed in her burger, before stepping to the line. He sighted his ball and threw. Another split. The counter hit zero, signaling the end of practice.
    “Too fast,” Tom said.
    Eli frowned at the ball return. Tom’s helpful advice might make for a long night.
    “Jamie, I have you up first,” Karen said.
    She put her food down and wiped her hands with a wet wipe she’d found in her bag and dried them with a napkin. Then she picked up her ball and with a smooth, graceful delivery, she shot a strike.
    “Way to go!” Eli boomed, moving to the edge of the molded plastic seat. He stopped himself from leaping up when he saw the members of the other team looking at him. Hey, there was nothing wrong with cheering on a teammate.
    Jamie turned and beamed at him. Well, at everyone. And his heart skipped a