The war to end all wars has ended. Prohibition is in full swing. And the game William loves is under siege, rocked by scandals and monopolized by New York elites. He heads west after receiving an invitation to try-out for a minor league club owned by the National League's St. Louis Club, but neither his success on the field nor his accumulating wealth mitigate the memories of his past. When new traumas invade the Chalmers home, he grows desperate, and takes matters into his own hands. In this final book of the Diamonds Through Waterloo Series, William Jennings wrestles with accepting the truth of his heritage, the loneliness of loss, and the heartbreak of broken dreams, while still finding hope in the majesty and poetry of America's pastime.
The nearer William got to the table, the more curious he grew as to the identity of the other man seated with McGraw. His back was toward William, but something about him seemed familiar. His hair was bright red. He was in constant movement, his shoulders dancing to an unheard melody. When he stood and turned, William looked down, uncertain if these two men were aware of the irony about to be presented to them.
“Mr. Jennings,” McGraw said to William, “meet Hughie Jennings.” He extended his arm to his former Baltimore teammate, the former Detroit manager, the former attorney for Brother Thomas Kemp.
William nodded, grinned, and extended his hand. Judging by the look on Hughie’s face, he recognized William and seemed surprised, uncertain how to proceed.
“I have the strange feeling,” McGraw said, “that the two of you know one another.”
William looked at Hughie, who raised his hand to his mouth and pantomimed that his lips were sealed.
William turned toward McGraw. “We have met.”
“Really? Cousins, perhaps?” McGraw asked with a hint of irritation, glaring at his friend.
“In Scranton,” William said, “he helped me with some legal matters a few years back.”
McGraw crossed his arms on his chest, laughing. “You are his client?”
William shrugged. “Not exactly.”
McGraw turned toward Hughie. “And you never thought of mentioning this?”
Hughie held up his hand. “Ee-yah, Mugsy! Slow down. First of all, I didn’t know he was the same kid. How could I? A Jennings is almost as common as a Smith, and even if I knew it was the same kid, I couldn’t discuss—”
“Aah!” McGraw interrupted. “Your attorney-client privilege crap. I see. Well, he said he ain’t your client!”
Again, Hughie held up his hand. “He was the beneficiary of a client.”
McGraw cocked his head back toward William. “True, Kid?”
William nodded.
“And this client.” McGraw focused his attention back toward Hughie. “Do I know him?”
Hughie lowered his head, biting his lip. He raised his hands in the air. “C’mon, Mugsy. Really?”
“He was a mentor of mine,” William explained. “A Xaverian Brother at St. Mary’s.”
McGraw turned with a jerk, wide-eyed, asking William, “Thomas Kemp?”
“Yes, sir.”
McGraw dropped into his seat silently. He did not look angry. He seemed to be in deep thought—similar, William recalled, to how he appeared in the dugout during a game when trying to decipher an opposing hurler’s pitch sequence.
“You were raised there, Kid?” McGraw asked further.
“Yes.”
More silence.
Hughie placed his arm on William’s shoulder and gently nudged him toward the chair to McGraw’s left.
“The Beast,” McGraw said. “He was there with you?”
William looked at McGraw, then at Hughie, wondering whether McGraw’s “Beast” was referring to George. He assumed it was.
“Yes, sir.”