Never a Bride

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “Sometimes I feel sixty,” Carlo admitted with a heavy exhale, although he was only two years older than Tomás. “It would be great to have you here, helping out. It would give me more time to relax.”

  Another laugh erupted from his brother, but it wasn’t harsh. “You, relax? If I know you, you’ve got plans all done up for expanding the business. Lord knows you’ve probably been hoarding away everything you make to do it.”

  He smiled. “You know me too well. But if you’re staying, I’d be glad to have you here with us full time. Maybe I’d finally have the time to use some of those dollars I saved to trade my mobile home for the one I’ve thought about for years.”

  His brother arched a dark brow and said, “Are you sure you want me around here? Paolo mentioned you and Emma had talked about going into business together.”

  He shook his head. “Paolo talks too much,” Carlo chided, but without any sting.

  “But is it true? You and Emma together? Business-wise that is,” Tomás clarified.

  Carlo nodded. “We had talked about it and I hope it’ll happen someday. Right now Emma is a big maybe in that plan, so let’s leave that for another time. As for you, would that beautiful woman and child you mentioned before be Jesse and her son by any chance?”

  Tomás looked away and his lips tightened into a thin slash. “She intrigues me and it’s not just that she’s beautiful. She’s strong, but I see the sadness there too. I’d like to take away that hurt and make her really smile again.”

  Carlo nodded and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands as he considered his brother. “She’s had a rough time. I’m sure you heard her story already.”

  “I knew Jesse before she married Ed. We dated a few times the summer you came down here to start the business and I was helping you out. It was nice, really nice, but it just wasn’t what I wanted back then. And now . . . the last thing I want is to take advantage of someone who might still be vulnerable, but that’s jumping the gun considering that I don’t know if I’m staying or going.”

  Just like Carlo didn’t know if Emma was staying or going in his life, so he understood his brother’s predicament. “When it’s the right thing to do, you’ll know.”

  “So will you, mano,” Tomás said and with a wave, walked out the door to get back to work.

  As Carlo watched him go, he hoped his brother was right.

  THE AMBIANCE IN THE room at the upscale inn was subdued and elegant. Antique tables and chairs were efficiently laid out around the wood-burning fireplace where a nice fire tossed out welcome warmth. The tables were set with fine linen, china, silver, and crystal for the well-heeled patrons who chatted in hushed tones over Thanksgiving meals. On walls of an indeterminate shade of white an eclectic mix of paintings hung discreetly. The artwork was from a gallery in town that specialized in up and coming local artists.

  The vibe couldn’t be any more different from the raucous get together that would be going on at Carlo’s family home, but this Thanksgiving treat had become a ritual with her and her mother once they’d managed to put their lives back together after her father’s betrayal.

  Emma raised her wine glass for a toast and as her mother did the same, Emma said, “To strong women.”

  Juliana repeated the toast, but there was something different in Emma’s mother’s gaze. The haunted look that had been there for so many years as they’d struggled to get back on their feet was finally gone and replaced by a brilliant sparkle in green eyes so similar to her own.

  “You look . . . really happy,” Emma said and thought that this new shine took years off her mother’s face. She could pass for a woman in her mid-forties although she was sixty. Plus her mother kept herself in good shape and had always managed to look fashionable even when they’d been dead broke.

  “I wish I could say the same about you, Emma. I can see you’re troubled,” Juliana said and set her glass back on the table.

  Emma shrugged and sipped her wine. “I’ve got a ton of work to do for the next few weeks. Just worried about making sure it all goes right.”

  “Connie’s wedding?” Juliana asked and Emma nodded.

  “That and a press conference for Jon’s company, not that I’m complaining. More work means more money in my pocket.” More money being of utmost importance since the day they’d discovered that her father had not only run off with another woman, but emptied all their bank accounts, including the one intended to pay for Emma’s college tuition. Since then she’d always been careful with her finances. It had let her buy her home in Sea Kiss and after that, she’d started setting aside money to open her own business one day. Maybe even that event planning business with Carlo.

  Her mother raised her glass, hesitated to peer at Emma over the rim, and took a sip before deliberately setting the glass down once more. Juliana avoided Emma’s gaze as she said, “I never thought I’d say this, but money doesn’t make up for not having someone special in your life.”

  There was a tone in her mother’s voice which both surprised and worried. “Why do I get the feeling that there’s something you want to tell me, mom?”

  Juliana’s head shot up as if in surprise, but then she met Emma’s gaze directly. “Because there is, Em. I’ve met someone and we’ve been seeing each other.”

  Emma jerked back almost as if struck by the news. During all of their weekly talks and occasional dinners, her mother had never mentioned a man. “How long have you been seeing him?”

  Juliana’s hand shook as she reached for a piece of bread and broke off a slice in a nervous gesture. “About six months –”

  “Six months!” Emma said in a strained whisper and leaned toward her mom. “Six months and you never said anything in all the times we talked?”

  Her mother’s surprise announcement was almost like a deception in her mind. They’d always been close and that she’d kept it a secret for so long . . .

  With a pained sigh, Juliana said, “I was worried you’d react just like this, Em. I know I made a lot of mistakes with your dad.”

  “You weren’t the one who made the mistakes, mom,” she said and laid her hand over her mother’s as it rested on the table, concern overriding her initial anger.

  Tears shimmered in Juliana’s green eyes, but she corralled the tears much as she had for so long during her marriage. “I shouldn’t have let him berate us the way he did. I should have stood up to him and I should have paid more attention to what was happening. I should have seen it coming.”

  “Mommy,” she began, sounding too much like the scared seventeen-year-old whose world had totally been turned upside down overnight.

  Her mother cupped her face from across the narrow width of the table and smiled. “It’s okay, Emma. We survived. It made us stronger, but sometimes I worry you equate being strong with being alone. I know I felt that way for a long time, but then I met Scott.”

  Emma’s throat was tight with emotion, but somehow she managed to squeak out, “Scott? Is that his name?” At Juliana’s nod, she asked, “How did you meet him?”

  “At work,” her mother said and Emma started to pick at her meal as she listened to her mother’s story about how Scott had been hired in another department and they’d run into each other at a party for a colleague’s birthday.

  “He’s nothing like your father,” Juliana said and forked up a bit of turkey and stuffing from her plate. After she chewed and swallowed, she continued. “I think I care for him and I’d like you to meet him.”

  Her mother with a man. Emma never could have imagined that this day would come. She’d kind of pictured the two of them alone together against the world and that word leapt at her again as it had when her mother had said it.

  Alone. Not that she’d seen her mother and her going all Grey Gardens, but she’d never pictured a man in their lives.

  Not even Carlo? the little voice chastised.

  With that weird kind of mind reading that moms seemed to possess, Juliana said, “Since you’re so busy with wo
rk, I assume you’ve been seeing a lot of Carlo. How’s he doing?”

  “Fine. Busy,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cranberry and turkey.

  “Hmm,” Juliana said thoughtfully, but it was obvious her mother wasn’t buying it. “I guess you’re going to his family’s house like you usually do?”

  “No,” she said and focused on the meal in front of her, avoiding Juliana’s intense perusal.

  “But you always go there –”

  “I’ve got too much work to do. Besides, things change, mom. Just look at you,” she said and hated the anger and upset in her voice, and immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m very glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy. I really am. I just need to get used to the idea.”

  “You will, but I need you to promise me something,” Juliana began and as Emma met her gaze, her mother continued. “Don’t be afraid to take a chance on Carlo. He’s a good man. One who will respect you and love you with all his heart.”

  Her brain knew that to be true, but her heart, a heart that had already experienced too much pain, was finding it hard to take the next step. But she knew her mother couldn’t be happy if she thought that Emma was miserable and so she relented.

  “I’ll try, mom. I promise I’ll try.”

  Chapter 9

  Carlo had endured a minimum amount of ribbing about Emma’s absence since Tomás had made it clear to all the brothers that the subject was off limits. His brother had also playfully reinforced that instruction with a threat about the kind of pain a Ranger could inflict and all of the brothers had listened.

  Carlo was grateful for that since it made it a little easier to deal with the situation. But as he sat there eating tasteless food that was anything but tasteless, he told himself to get over it and Emma and enjoy this time with his family.

  He was clearing off dinner plates from the table when the doorbell rang, surprising everyone in the room since the da Costa family had an open-door policy on holidays which meant you were invited to just walk right in. Carlo was closest, so he shoved the plates he held at his older brother Ricardo and went to see who would be knocking, ignoring the way his heart knocked unevenly as he hoped it might be Emma.

  He jerked the door open to find her standing there, nervously clasping her purse. “Emma?” he asked, surprised, but pleased.

  With a sharp jerk of her shoulders, she said, “Mom and I got done early and I wasn’t ready to go back to Sea Kiss yet. I hope you don’t mind that I changed my mind about coming. I’d understand if it was too late to visit.”

  “No, it’s not too late at all. We were just cleaning up and getting ready for the next round of food. You know how we love food and company. Come in. Por favor,” he said and held his arm out wide to invite her in.

  EMMA PEELED OFF HER jacket and handed it to Carlo. He walked into the front parlor and casually tossed it on top of the pile of coats already on the sofa.

  Carlo laid a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the dining room table which had been cleared of a traditional Thanksgiving meal of turkey and other American dishes. Years earlier Carlo had told her that when his grandparents had come from Portugal they’d insisted that the family learn to be American and honor American customs and traditions. For that reason, the da Costa family went all out to make sure their Thanksgiving was as American as the apple pie that would shortly be brought out for dessert. The only concession to breaking tradition was the assorted Portuguese pastries which graced every holiday table.

  A stilted silence settled over the normally boisterous clan as she entered the dining room and Carlo glared at all of them, clearly commanding his family to behave with his look. It was obvious that they hadn’t expected her to come that night.

  His mother was first to act. She jumped to her feet, walked over to Emma, and hugged her enthusiastically. “It’s so good to have you here, Emma.”

  “It’s good to be here. I’m sorry I missed dinner, but I already ate with my mother,” she said and laid her hand over her stomach.

  Ricardo jumped into the discussion. “If you ask me, you could use a little more meat on your bones. My brother too,” he said and poked Carlo in the ribs.

  “I think you’ve been eating too many of your own pasteis de nata, Rickie. Javi, tambén,” Tomás kidded. As Emma snuck a quick peek at Carlo’s brothers, Ricardo and Javier, it was obvious they were sampling a great many treats at their bakery and getting a bit round.

  “Basta,” Carlo’s father called out, drawing her attention as he sat at the head of the table like a king with his subjects.

  “Seems to me the Army must be pretty desperate to take a runt like you,” Javier kidded and wrapped a beefy arm around Tomás’s neck to give him a loving noogie.

  “Por favor. We have a guest,” their mother chided and slipped in between Tomás and Javier as they began to good-naturedly scuffle.

  Carlo’s father slapped the table in jest and in a booming voice said, “Por favor, Rosa. Boys will be boys.”

  Rosa rolled her eyes and Carlo did the same, dragging a laugh from Emma. “Some things just don’t change, do they, Em?” Carlo said.

  Having experienced many a holiday with Carlo’s family, she was glad that things had returned to the da Costa version of normal so quickly. She always loved being with his family. Even though things sometimes got loud and animated as it had before, there was no doubt they all loved and respected each other. It was such a difference from her own family and many a time it had made her wonder what it would be like to be a permanent part of a family like this.

  And being a part of her own family with Carlo, the little voice chided.

  Carlo’s family hauled out dish after dish of assorted Portuguese desserts. Rice pudding. Custard tarts. Flan. Carlo’s favorite bolo de bolacha, a cake-like dessert made with ground tea cookies, coffee, milk, and sugar. A few different baked bolas from his family’s bakery. Pots of espresso and bottles of port completed the dessert portion of the meal.

  Carlo grabbed a bola de berlim, the Portuguese equivalent of a custard-filled donut, and offered it to her. His arm brushed against hers as he reached for the dessert and his tension was impossible to ignore. Emma shot him a nervous half-glance, smoothed a hand down his arm, and offered up a smile.

  “This is your favorite, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” he said and she took a bite. After she murmured her pleasure, he placed the rest of the bola on her plate and cut slices of the bolo de bolacha for the rest of the family.

  “I remember this one too,” she said and motioned to another dessert that his mother passed over to them. “It’s like tiramisu,” she said and forked up a piece of the sweet.

  “You could say that,” he said and ate a big piece. “You did good, mamãe. It’s delicious.”

  “Obrigado, milho. You’ll have to take some of it home with you,” his mother said with a satisfied smile.

  “I won’t argue with you,” Carlo replied and for the next half an hour or so, the meal passed with playful banter and the eating of a ton of the desserts. Carlo and she passed on the sherry since they were driving, but not Paolo and Tomás who were Carlo’s passengers for the ride to Sea Kiss. Emma hoped the brothers’ trip home would not be punctuated with comments about her surprise appearance because that would only make the situation between them that much more awkward.

  As dessert wound down, Emma shifted uneasily in the chair and considered whether to make an exit as abrupt as her arrival. But she owed Carlo more and dutifully sat beside him while they chatted over dessert plates virtually licked clean and the glasses of sherry which were refilled a few times for the others while Carlo and she lingered over their demitasse cups of espresso.

  When his mother rose to start clearing off the dishes, Carlo also stood and Emma popped up beside him, knocking elbows with him as they both reached for the same dish on the table. They chuckled good naturedly and adjusted, picking up other plates to bring into the kitchen where his sisters-in-law were
busy packing away the leftovers and making doggie bags for people to take home.

  After they had finished, Emma stood by her chair awkwardly and said, “I guess it’s time for me to go home. Thank you all so much for a lovely night.”

  “It’s late. I’ll walk you to your car.” Carlo placed his hand at the small of her back as they strolled to the front door. He scooped her coat off the pile in the parlor and helped her slip it on. They were about to head out the door when his mother bustled out holding two large storage containers filled with the desserts as well as some turkey and stuffing.

  “Don’t forget your goodies and obrigado for coming, Emma. I know Carlo was very happy to see you,” Rosa said and bright color flashed across his face with embarrassment.

  “Obrigado, Rosa. It was my pleasure to be with all of you tonight,” Emma said graciously and accepted the containers from his mom. As always, she had truly enjoyed her time in the warmth and love of Carlo’s family.

  ROSA POKED CARLO IN the chest and said, “Take care of minha nina.”

  He feigned injury and kidded, “Ouch, mamãe.”

  His mother wagged her finger in his face before she waddled away to join the rest of the family in the dining room.

  They stood in the foyer awkwardly for a moment before Emma said, “I should go. It’s a long trip back to Sea Kiss.”

  “It is and we’ve both got tons of work to do in the next few days,” he said and opened the door. When she stepped out, he followed and strolled with her down the steps to the sidewalk. Almost reflexively he ran his hand across the azulejo of the Lady of Fatima worked into the retaining wall by the steps. Murmured a short prayer that Emma’s unexpected appearance was a good sign.

  Emma was silent as they hurried down the sidewalk and he could see Emma’s Sebring parked toward the end of the block. They were silent as they walked and at her car, they stopped and stood there uneasily again. He shrugged his shoulders against the slight chill of the late November night and said, “Thank you for coming. My family was really happy to see you.”