“Hi, Em,” said Howie, as he wandered up to the Hinton back porch.  “What are you doing?”

Emily was seated on the steps of the porch, similar to the one at the back of the Throckmortons’ house.  Contrary to the rule which dictated that Victorian homes be painted in three complementary colors, the two porches were painted just white with blue railings.  Of course there were plenty of colors in the vines and flowers growing in the garden.

When the farmer’s son wanted to marry and raise a family, he and his father built the two houses next to each other.  Back then it was common for the oldest son to stay on the farm and eventually inherit it, when the father retired or passed away.  Farmsteads with two houses side-by-side were not unusual.  The wives appreciated the companionship and help.  Life on a farm can be lonely.  The system worked great.  As the farmer got older, his son took over the heavy chores.  And the new wife had her mother-in-law to show her the ways of rural life.  It was a hard, yet fulfilling way of living.

 “Hi, Howie,” Emily looked up and gazed at Howie through her thick eyelashes.  She crinkled her nose, causing her freckles to fade across its bridge.

Flowers everywhere were in springtime bloom.  The sun was shining and there were only a few wisps of clouds high in the sky.  Across Cow Field, in the sycamore trees, robins and bluebirds were singing, and blackbirds were cawing.  Nests were hidden among the thick leaves.

Emily was sitting there enjoying all the sights and sounds and smells.  As usual she was wearing tennis shoes, jeans, and a white shirt with the tails hanging out.  Her strawberry-blonde hair was in its customary ponytail.  Snowball, her white cat, lay lazily sleeping on top of one of the porch rails.  The cat’s head was on one paw, while her tail and her other paw were dangling, unconcerned, over the edge of the rail, and her whiskers fluttered as she snored.

Emily showed Howie the new cleats she was coating with leather wax to protect and soften them.  This was the time honored method ballplayers use to protect their leather.  The shoes were black with large white laces.  They were small.  Emily had to shop in the young boys section of the sporting goods store to find shoes to fit her.  This embarrassed her.  Her uniforms were small, too, but they could taken in by hand.

“See my new cleats,” she offered them up for inspection.  “I saved the money and bought them myself.  Well…mostly,” she added truthfully.  “My dad gave me some of the money.  It was a reward!”

Snowball opened one eye and glared at Howie for interrupting her nap, as he leaned against the rail and examined Emily’s new cleats.  He made sure to check the bottoms to see if she had sharpened the spikes.  She did that once, after reading that Ty Cobb sharpened his to a point to better spike infielders covering the bases.  That was a painful summer for Howie.  Satisfied they are not been sharpened, he handed them back.

“Did you get these for winning the baseball game?” he asked.

“No,” Emily replied.  “It was a good game, though, wasn’t it?  I thought Coach Buggese was so funny wearing his hat backwards and crossing his legs.  And we beat Cornville; we’re the league champs!  I’ll always remember that.  Of course, we all have a trophy.”

“Ya,” replied Howie.  “Mom put mine on the shelf in the parlor.  It was a good game,” he continued.  “And you played an outstanding game at shortstop, Emily.”

“Oh hush, Howie!  I did terrible at running the bases.  I’m so ashamed that I fell for that bush league trick of Butch Pratt.  He is no gentleman!  And I know I lost the no-hitter for you.  I wasn’t paying attention when he was at bat, so when he shifted, I didn’t change my position.  The rest of the school may not understand that, but I do!  I was out of position.  Still you won it!  You were awesome!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Em.  I don’t know if anyone could have caught that ball.  Butch hit it pretty hard.  Besides, I am the one who let him hit it.”

“That’s right!” Emily agreed.  “And here I was feeling guilty about it.”

“I am never going to win with you, am I, Em?”  Howie grinned.

“It depends on what game you are playing, Howie,” replied Emily enigmatically, looking up at him, through her thick eyelashes.

Suddenly Howie felt breathless.

After a moment, he said, “Coach Buggese and I had a talk about you playing catcher.  And I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

“Howie, what did you do to the coach?”

“Nothing!  We just talked, but he said if I felt that strongly about it, you would never play catcher, again.”

He’s worried about me, Emily thought.  That pleased her!  She said, “I won’t mind not playing catcher again.  I admit I was a little scared.  Karen made Butch apologize for trying to run me down.”

Emily dipped the blue cloth she was using into the wax and continued rubbing her cleats.

“You know, Em,” said Howie, “that rag looks like the blue dress Karen Switzer wore to the game.”

 “It does?” asked Emily innocently.  “How peculiar.  I am afraid I didn’t notice it.  But I am sure whatever she was wearing was not to my taste.”  Then she gave the cloth a vicious shake and globbed more wax onto it.

“Just think,” Howie said, “Karen Switzer is Butch Pratt’s girlfriend.  They don’t seem much alike, do they?”

“I don’t know,” replied Emily.  “I think they are just perfect together.”  Karen together with anyone other than Howie was perfect to Emily.  Still, she felt badly about her suspicions.  “She seems like a nice girl,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Karen is a nice girl and smart, too, only not as smart as you, Emily.  She and I both missed a problem on Mr. Bishop’s test, but you aced it!

“I know!” Emily crowed.  “That is what I got rewarded for.  My dad said he couldn’t reward me with new cleats for baseball game, but getting the top score on a math test was different.  He said ‘that was worth a bribe!’”

Emily put the cleats down, jumped up and did a victory dance, through the garden.  Her ponytail was bouncing and she was twirling the blue rag over her head like a victory flag.  Then she danced and whooped and hollered all around Howie.

Snowball sat up yawning and watched, curiously, while Emily celebrated.

Howie ducked as a glob of wax flew passed him.  But he was grinning.  He wondered if he should try learning to dance by twirling a rag over his head.  Nothing else had worked.

  ”How did you do it?” he asked about the test.  I was worried you weren’t going to pass based on our homework discussions.  You didn’t cheat, did you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Howard Thomas Throckmorton,” Emily stopped dancing.  She put her hands on her hips.  “Do you have so little faith in me?”  She dropped the rag onto the ground, so she wouldn’t be tempted to flick him with it.

“Then how’d you do it?”

Emily got right in Howie’s face, and poked him in the chest with her finger.  She said, “I imagined the answers, Howie.  I looked at each problem and I thought, what color does this problem remind me of?  And then I wrote down the number that matched the color.”

“YOU DID WHAT?  That’s as bad as my mother and sister.  Do you know they believe that a person’s favorite color matches his personality?

Emily had the grace to blush.

“But numbers don’t have colors, Emily.  Word problems don’t have colors either.  They are just words, written down in black and white.”

“And black was the color of problem number three, Howie!  So the answer to problem number three was 6.  Because the number 6 is black, you see.”

Howie did not see!  But Emily stumped him.  He stopped and admitted, “6 was the right answer.  That is the one Karen and I both got wrong.  How’d you do that, again?”

“And the answer to problem number five was red,” Emily continued.

“The answer to problem number 5 was 4,” Howie insisted.

“That’s what I said.  The number 4 is colored red, and 3 is a yellow, 2 is a blue, and 1 is a white…and sometimes it’s a brown.  So you have to be careful there!  And of course, the number 6 is always black.  That’s not so difficult to understand is it, Howie?”

“THAT’S CRAZY!” Howie replied.  “What would happen if I changed problem number five so it had a different answer?”

“Then the color of the problem would change, of course!”

“I suppose if I saw a pretty girl.  And I added up the colors that she was wearing, they would add up to a perfect 10?” he asked.

“Howie!  What girl were you looking at?” wondered Emily, with tears in her eyes.  “I’m wearing blue and white.  Does that make me a 3?”

Even Howie knew better than to answer that question.  But if he had, Emily would have been pleased to know she rated much higher on the scale.

“You know, Em.  I am beginning to believe you’re right.  Girls do not need math!  Not if they’re going to use it to drive boys crazy.  They already rule the world; why give them anymore power.  Numbers having colors is unbelievable,” he shook his head.

Emily giggled.  “Mr. Bishop didn’t think so.  When I explained it to him, he decided he was going to experiment with it scientifically.  The next test we take will be color coordinated.  Thelma Takahasi volunteered to help, because she knows all about color coordinating.”  Emily wisely didn’t say anything about the article on color personalities.  “And that will help with her grade, some extra credit.  Mr. Bishop was so nice about it, I have decided I am going to work harder to get a good grade in math…or maybe, I will bake him a pie.  He offered to teach me how to use a slide rule, but I think it will easier to bake him a pie.  He likes rhubarb.”

“I refuse to believe you passed the test by matching colors, but there were too many problems for it to be pure luck.  You’ll just have to give me credit for teaching you, or next you’ll be telling me it was the thing about knowing something is right in your heart.  What did your father call it?

“Zen!” Emily told him.  But if he insisted on being so closed minded, he did not need to know about it.

“Then what?” Howie asked.

“Then…” Emily repeated, “Then are you proud of yourself for teaching me?”

She started dancing around again, giggling.

Snowball stretched and jumped down to get a closer look.

“Oh Em!”  Suddenly Howie looked dejected.  He moved Emily’s cleats aside, and sat down on the porch.  “Maybe I can teach.  But I can’t learn.  I know I am going to ruin my sister’s wedding.  What if I break on Aunt Mae’s foot?  Meg is still limping,” he added.

Emily stopped dancing and looked at him, puzzled.

“Em, I still can’t dance!” he uttered hopelessly, raising his arms in despair.

“Oh!” she sighed, and sat down beside him.  “Well Howie, dancing is really no harder than playing baseball.”  From her new found Zen wisdom, she told him, “You’re not able to dance because in your heart you don’t want to dance.  At least not as badly as you want to do other things.”

“You are not going to try to hold me under water, are you, Emily?”

“No silly,” she giggled.  “Besides I wouldn’t want a shark to eat you.  You have all those scraps on your elbows and knees and sharks come if they smell blood.”

“There are no sharks in Ohio, Emily.”

“Good!  And let’s keep it that way.  You will have to figure out some other way to learn how to dance.  Did your mother put hydrogen peroxide on your scrapes?” Emily wondered.

“Yes,” answered Howie, puzzled.

“And did they bubble?” she asked.  “I‘d loved to have seen that.”

“Emily!” Howie cringed.

Emily stooped, picked up the blue cloth, and returned to sit beside Howie.  She started waxing her cleats once more, carefully rubbing around the heels and completely ruining the cloth.

“What do you expect me to do to help you, Howie?” she asked quietly.  “If you don’t want to learn to dance, no one can force you.”  She did not look up at him.  She kept her eyes focused on her cleats.

Howie didn’t say anything.  Well maybe he muttered something, but Emily politely pretended she didn’t hear him.

She sighed and looked up.  “Howie, you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself.  You know if you put your mind to it, you can learn anything.  You’ve proved that, over and over again.  Let’s see,” she continued.  “What student in the school knows the most about space and stars and constellations?”

“I do,” answered Howie.  “You know I do!  We went all over with my telescope, remember?”

“And who is it that understands physics?” Emily cut him off.  “Although, why anybody would want to understand it, I don’t know.  But who is it?”

“It’s me,” Howie admitted.

“And who knows the most about medicine?”

“Probably me again.”

“Then there are grades.  Who has the best grade point average at Binnington High School?”

“That would be Karen Switzer,” Howie sighed.

“Oh!”  Emily paused to consider that.  “Well after all, Karen is a girl.  And that’s how it should be!”  Emily had to approve of this evidence of women’s superiority, even if it was Karen.

“Then there is baseball.  Who’s a started pitcher on the Binnington High School Varsity Baseball Team?”

“That would be me,” admitted Howie, “and three other guys.  There is Billy Higgins and…”

“Close enough,” said Emily, interrupting him again.  “And who can throw a knuckleball and a slider?”

“I can throw a knuckleball and a slider,” answered Howie proudly.  “So can Billy Higgins,” he added.

“Leave Billy out of this,” Emily ordered.

“And who just came within two outs of throwing a no hit baseball game, which was the best thrown game of the entire season?” she asked.

“Hmm!” replied Howie.  “Maybe I should play baseball at my sister’s wedding.  Instead of putting on a suit, I could wear my uniform.  And I could put on my cleats.  Then instead of stepping on Aunt Mae’s toes, I could slide into her with my spikes high.  At least I would injure her on purpose.  Or I could charge at her like she was a catcher…”

“Wait!”  Emily stopped waxing her cleats, and just stared at Howie.  She did not say anything for a moment.

Howie looked at her skeptically.  She didn’t really think he wanted to spike his aunt, did she?

Then Emily started grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s wrong, Emily.  Are you enjoying thinking about my humiliation?”

Emily put down the cleats, and the wax, and the blue rag.

She leaped off the porch and began, once more, dancing up and down, and whooping and hollering.

“Yes, Emily, I know.  You got all the answers right on our math test.  You beat us all.  But haven’t you celebrated enough?

She came back and took Howie by the hand.  “That’s not it, Howie!  What did that Greek guy say?  EUREKA!  I have found it!  I know how to teach you to dance.  Come with me!”  She ran off towards Cow Field, dragging Howie behind her, pausing just long enough to pick up her cleats.  Snowball followed leisurely behind them, while Buster watched them from the safety of his hole under the Throckmorton porch.

Soon they arrived at home plate.  “Close you eyes, Howie – and keep them shut.  I just want you to feel.  Think, hear, smell, and imagine, then tell me about it.

“What?”

“Trust me, Howie.  Just do it!”

“Okay!  I think…you are crazy.  I feel the warmth of sun and the wind on my face, and…the softness of your hand in mine.”

Flustered, Emily yanked her hand away.  “What else, Howie?” she whispered.

“I can hear the wind, as well as feel it…and I hear a crow.  And I can smell…you smell good, Emily!”

Emily stepped away from Howie.  “Now imagine, Howie.  And tell me what you are imagining”

“I can’t imagine why you are asking me to do this.”  Howie opened his eyes.

“Imagine that I’m going to hit you - hard!  Close you eyes!”

“No!  Don’t hit me, Emily!  See!  I have my eyes shut as tight as I can.  But I can’t imagine why.”  He chuckled.

“It is a good thing doctors do not have to be funny, Howie!  Or you would flunk out of medical school.  Howie!  I can see you peeking.  Close your eyes tight.  Now I will help you.  Imagine you are at your sister’s wedding.”

“Okay.”

“Can you see me in your imagination?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not wearing pink, am I?  No, never mind!  Do you see your Aunt Mae?”

“Yes.  She’s limping.”

“Howie!”

“Okay!  Yes, I can see Aunt Mae.  She looks fine.”

Now imagine the dance floor is a baseball field,” Emily continued

“Okay.”

“Can you see grass growing on it?”

“WHAT?”

‘Just do as I tell you.  Imagine grass is growing on it.

“Alright.  Can I open my eyes now?”

“No!  Imagine where the dance band is playing is the bleachers.  And the pitcher’s mound is right in the center of the floor.  And home plate is over by the wedding cake.”

“You know you have gone off the deep end, Emily!”

“Hush Howie.  That’s swimming, not baseball!  Can you make out the base paths?  If it helps, you can squint your eyes tighter.”

“Yes, it helps!  Now I can see base paths.  But why?”

“Doesn’t the minister kind of look like an umpire?”

“Emily!”  Howie opened his eyes in shock.

“Okay, maybe that’s going too far.  You can forget that one.  But you can see a baseball field on the floor at your sister’s wedding reception, can’t you?”

“Yes!  But why?”

 “Because Howie,” Emily explained, as they stood near home plate, “the answer to your problem about learning to dance is…you are going to play baseball with your aunt at your sister’s wedding!”

“You’re crazy, Em!  I can’t play baseball at a wedding.”

“Howie, every step in dancing can be explained in terms of baseball.”

Howie looked at her like she was crazy. “I don’t believe it.  There’s no dancing in baseball!”

Emily didn’t answer him.  She bent down and began putting on her new cleats.

She stood back up.  “Okay,” she said.  “Tell me a dance you need to learn.”

“Emily?”

“Just do it!”

“Okay, I need to learn to waltz.  One, two, three…two, two, three.  Something like that.”

Emily thought hard for a moment.  Then she narrated, “It’s a high pop-up to shallow left field.  What do you do?”

“Well, I…”

“Call it out!” commanded Emily.

“The fielder circles on the grass,” Howie called out.

“Good!  But you are circling the wrong way.  Circle the other way.  Keep circling.” Emily started to chant, “Left, two, three…right, two, three…left, two, three...right, two, three.  Well?”

“I’m doing it, Em!  I’m doing it!”

“Of course you are!   Now try it with me.  But remember I have my cleats on and I can defend myself!”  Emily put Howie’s right hand on her waist, put her left hand on his shoulder, and took his left hand in her right one.  “Okay, let’s begin.  It’s a high pop-up to shallow left field.  Call it out!”

“The fielder circles on the grass,” Howie called.

“Left, two, three…right, two, three…left, two, three...right, two, three,” Emily joined in.

He was doing it.  Occasionally there was a misstep.  But Emily was wearing cleats and her retaliation was swift and sure.  Soon Howie’s feet where staying where they belonged.

They danced all the way from home plate around the base paths.  Emily began singing, “Take me out to the ball game – left, two, three… right, two, three...circle the ball, two, three.”

Howie just repeated, “The fielder circles on the grass.”  But he wasn’t much of a singer anyway.

They stopped when they arrived back at home plate – having touched all the bases along the way.  Snowball sat on the pitcher’s mound twitching her tail, and watching them.  Out of breath, they stood there giggling

“What other dances do you have to learn, Howie?

Howie listed all the dances that made Meg cry, “And last, but not least, my aunt wants to tangle.”

“It’s called the Tango, Howie!  That’s quite a list.  We better get started with the tangle…I mean tango.  Now, you’ve got me saying it!”

The “tangle” led them far afield and, before they knew it, they had danced through the Sycamore trees, ending up by the old graveyard.  They stopped there to catch their breaths.

“Howie,” Emily said, looking over the fence.  “I know I told you the next time I danced with you, it would be over someone’s dead body, but I didn’t really mean it.”

“Lets take a break,” Howie said, “and go in there.”

“What?” said Emily.

“I like graveyards,” Howie explained, as he creaked open the gate and led the way in.  “I think they’re peaceful places, and I like to imagine what the people who are buried in them were like.”

The graveyard started out years ago as the Binnington family’s private graveyard, but now it was a public one and others were buried there.  Some of the older tombstones had regiment numbers of soldiers who fought in the Civil War.

The grounds of cemetery were orderly and maintained, but most of the stones were old, and mossy, and weather stained.  In a far corner of the graveyard, under a bush, was a small rock on which was inscribed “Iggy” and instead of “RIP” it read “RIBBIT”.  This was a pet frog of Emily’s who died years before.  Howie arranged the funeral and burial, inscribing on the rock with his sister’s nail polish.

Howie walked up to a tombstone in the center of the cemetery.  “See, here is old Farmer Binnington.  He lived until he was ninety years old.”

Snowball jumped up to inspect it more closely.

“Look,” said Emily, as she reached down and traced the dates on the stone with her fingers, “his wife died so many years before him.  He must have been lonely.”

“And they had a son in the army who died during the war.  See, here is his military unit carved onto the stone.”

“Oh,” Emily gasped.

“What is the matter?” Howie asked.

“A baby died, a little girl.  It looks as if she was the youngest of their children.  How sad for the mother.”  How sad it would be to lose a child or a loved one to death.  Except for Howie’s grandfather, they were both fortunate not to have suffered so.  Respectfully, they left the cemetery; softly closing the gate behind them and latching it, after letting Snowball squeeze through.

It was nearly dark by the time Howie and Emily finally left the field and headed towards home.

Snowball remained behind to chase butterflies.

Emily had a few last instructions.  “Remember when you do the Swing,” she said, “first you step forward, and then you step back.  Think of trying to trick the pitcher into believing you are going to steal the next base.  Don’t worry!  You won’t step on anyone’s toes!  When you do the Shimmy, think of winning the game and the team celebrating by dumping the water cooler down your back.  And when you do the Jive, don’t shake both legs at the same time.  It doesn’t look polite.”

Both of them were a little sore, but they were satisfied!  Better than satisfied, thought Emily.  She had actually danced with Howie!

It was a good thing, Howie thought, that Emily had not sharpened her spikes.  She was quick to retaliate whenever she was kicked or stepped on, but that way he soon learned not to repeat his mistakes.

They said goodnight at Emily’s back porch.  That is, Emily said goodnight.  Howie was muttering under his breath “fly ball in the dirt high and away.”  But Emily knew he meant “goodnight, and thank you!”

Just before she went in, she saw her wishing star and the man in the moon peeking over the sycamores.  “Oh look, Howie.  There is our star.”

“That is Venus, a planet,” Howie reminded her.  “And the moon is waning.”

“Howie, you’ve still got no romance in you.  Venus is still the goddess of love and that makes her good enough to wish on.”  She didn’t care if it was a planet!  It was a magical night - a night for wishes.  And she was going to make one.

She went sat on the steps of the porch and took off her cleats.  Howie sat down beside her.  For some reason, they held hands again.  Probably they were just used to it, after dancing all afternoon.  “You are not sweating so much any more,” said Emily.

“What will you wish for this time,” Howie asked.  “Did your last wish come true?”

Emily remembered her last wish.  It was that Howie would love her new dress, and Karen Switzer ended up wearing it!  She reached out with her foot, and kicked that blue rag off the steps.  “I’m not sure what I will wish for this time,” she replied.  “But I know this.  It won’t have any blue in it!”

Howie looked puzzled

“Then I’ll make the first wish,” he said.  “I have to practice making a toast to the bride and groom at Meg’s wedding.”

“This I’ve got to hear,” said Emily.

“Hey, I can be poetic when the mood strikes me.”

“If I hear anything about “over the gums” or “here it comes”, I am lending you one of my Emily Dickinson books.”

“Just listen to this,” Howie replied.  Without realizing it, he took both of Emily’s hands in his.  Then he said, “I wish you long life and happiness, and a love that lasts forever; good friends when you need them and better friends when they need you.  I wish you wealth in the bank, but more importantly wealth in your hearts.  May you always be in love and stay in love.  May you have all the children that your arms and your hearts can hold, and all the health and life to enjoy them.  May your children live to honor you in your old age.  May you always have a sense of humor, but may you never need one.  I wish the years to bring you more joy than sorrow, but when sorrows come, may they leave you with room for even more joy.  May you grow more beautiful day by day, so that when you die people will not come to mourn, but to gaze and say, ‘Ah, what an exquisite jewel.”

There was silence for a moment.

“That was beautiful, Howie.  Did you write it?”

“Yes, I did,” he admitted sheepishly.  “I do love Meg and I want her to be happy, you know.  I just hope she can walk down the aisle.  She hurt her foot pretty bad, when we were practicing.”

“Maybe, I should loan her my cleats.”

“Don’t you dare,” begged Howie, rubbing the lower parts of his body.

Emily continued to sit on the porch for a while after Howie left.  Now she knew her wish!  She wished that someday she and Howie could share the same wish he would offer his sister.

When Emily entered the house, she leaned back against the kitchen door, humming to herself and waving 3/4 time in the air with her cleats.

Her mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner.  And she watched her daughter, bemused.

Emily smiled at her mother.  Then she executed a little waltz step and sang “Take me out to the ball game…left, two, three… right, two, three...circle the ball, two, three.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Hinton, “those are interesting lyrics.  Have you and Howie been practicing singing?”

“No, Mama,” replied Emily.  “We have been playing baseball.  AND IT WAS WONDERFUL!”

“Go wash up and come back.  Then you can help me set the table, while you tell me all about.”

When Emily came back, she had not only washed up, but she had combed out her hair, letting it fall gracefully down to her shoulders.  She had changed out of her tennis shoes.  And she had put on a skirt, even tucking her blouse into it.

“I thought I would dress for dinner,” She explained.  “After all, you and dad do it all the time.”

Easter continued smiling and watching her daughter.

Emily went to the silverware drawer and began collecting knives, and forks, and spoons.  Then she proceeded to set the table, still in ¾ time.

The mother eyed her daughter, speculatively.  There was an interesting sparkle in her eyes, a spring in her step, and a flush on her cheeks.  Emily looked much as she had years ago, when she first met a studious young law student named Ira.  She knew Emily and Howie often made up variations of baseball to play.  “What kind of game did you play today, Emily?” she asked her daughter curiously.

“It’s hard to describe,” replied Emily.  “It was kind of…a tangle!”

Mrs. Hinton smiled and shook her head.