by Mary Campisi
“How about that?” His voice dipped with affection for his niece. “The only one with common sense around here. Come on,” he released her and gestured to her chair. “Sit down and tell me your version. I’ve already heard your husband’s.”
“You…talked to Nate?”
He handed her a glass of iced tea, grabbed his own, and sank into the chair next to her. “Of course I went to him, and I was all set to throw my best right hook. Don’t give me that look; that boy was limper than overcooked spaghetti. I could have taken him, thought about it, too.” He eyed her over his glass. “Nobody’s going to bring grief to my Chrissie, and then he started talking and I realized he wasn’t the one keeping you two apart.” He eyeballed her long enough to make her look away. “It’s you, Chrissie, you and your damnable fears. If you don’t set things straight, and soon, it’s going to be your mother and father all over again.”
“Don’t say that.”
“What’s with not telling him about the baby? He’s the father, for Chrissake, and you kept it from him?” He shook his head and sighed. “Not good.” At seventeen, Harry’s girlfriend had told him about their baby, but she hadn’t given him a choice in what happened. Money and a controlling father had taken that choice from him.
“What did he tell you?”
“Enough for me to figure out you two need to square things now before the hurt thickens up and you can’t get past it.” He clasped her hand and squeezed. “I get the whole trust thing with the ex-girlfriend and the pictures. I’d be suspicious even if there weren’t pictures; hell, I’d be suspicious of anyone looking a second too long. Don’t be like that; it will eat you up and make for a miserable life.”
“He thinks Mother was behind this.” Her words filled with anger and resentment. “And it took me awhile but I agree. I called her and of course, she denied it, but she had that guilty sound in her voice, even from hundreds of miles away.”
“I’d sure as hell trust that husband of yours over your mother.” Gloria and her manipulations really had no limitations, even to the point of risking her daughter’s happiness. “I hear that pain-in-the-ass ex-boyfriend of yours graced you with his presence.”
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “He met Lily.”
“Ah.” So now he knew about Charlie and his other life. “What did Wonder Boy have to say about that?”
“Nate didn’t tell me specifics, but I guess Connor was trying to figure out which side of the gene pool Lily had come from, since breeding is more important to those kinds of people than relationships and family.”
“Those kinds of people? I hope you haven’t lumped me into that category.” Damn straight, he did not want to be thought of as a nose-in-the air society type who made associations based on breeding and background. Not that anyone would ever make the mistake of classifying him that way, but still, it needed saying.
She actually laughed. “Of course not. You put your heart and feelings ahead of what society says are important. I wish there were more people like you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure that would be a good thing, but thank you.” He sipped his tea and let the warm breeze roll over him. Leaves would turn soon and a chill would capture the night air, followed by frost, then snow. Another season would pass with Charlie gone from them. “It’s peaceful here; no hustle-bustle, traffic jams, people stacked on top of one another in living quarters twenty stories high, fighting for the same air. I’d like to see this place in the spring, when everything is new and fresh.”
“You could buy a place up here, you know. Real estate is cheap and even though the places aren’t new, there are plenty of tradesmen looking for work. This would make a wonderful vacation spot and that way I’d get to see you.”
Now why hadn’t he thought of that before? He bet Greta and the kids would love this place. Why was he thinking about what Greta and the kids would like? That was crazy and he squelched those thoughts before they took root in his brain and spread. “I’ll think about it. Right now, I want to talk about you and your husband. I want you to go inside, put on a fancy outfit and that shiny stuff on your lips, and pack up your junk. He’s coming for you at four o’clock.”
“What?” She sat up, bit her lower lip. “He’s coming?”
Harry didn’t miss the breathiness in her voice. Fear? Anticipation? Hope? Probably all three. “Yup. I told him to be here at four o’clock sharp to take you home.” He paused, leveled her with a no-nonsense stare, and said, “Your home, where the two of you belong, where you’re going to stay from now on. Period.”
“And he agreed?”
“Of course he agreed. Poor sap just needed a little push to open his eyes, and I,” he grinned and jabbed his chest, “used my excellent relationship skills to show him the way and give him that push.”
Christine squeezed his hand and said, “Do you really think he’ll forgive me for not telling him about the baby?”
“He already has.”
Chapter 14
Nate stepped out of the truck and grabbed the bouquet of sweetheart roses. That had been Harry’s idea. Women love flowers, he’d said. You can’t go wrong with roses. As soon as Harry left the shop, Nate went home, cleaned the bathrooms, threw in the first of six loads of laundry, and ran the dishwasher. He tossed out pizza boxes, empty beer cans, and something covered in slime that might have been lettuce. These last several weeks had been a blur of misery that blinded him to the pigsty he’d been living in. Christine was not coming home to this, that was for damn sure. He opened several windows to let out the staleness, changed the sheets, and filled a few vases with hydrangea blooms he cut from the bushes outside. At 3:15, he showered, shaved, and put on a pair of dress slacks, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tie. He made it out the door with the sweetheart roses with ten minutes to spare.
Now he stood outside his mother’s house, sweating from too many clothes and a nervousness that threatened to consume him. What if Harry had been wrong and Christine wasn’t interested in moving forward just yet? What if she needed more time? What if she didn’t want more time, didn’t want him? What if she planned to have the baby on her own? Maybe even head back to Chicago where the child could be raised in wealth and privilege? The “what ifs” pounded his brain, giving him the beginnings of a headache. There was only one way to find out his wife’s intentions and it sure as hell wasn’t by standing outside. He opened the back door and entered the kitchen.
Lily spotted him first. “Oooh, fancy,” she said, running toward him with a big grin on her face.
“Hey, kiddo.” He gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek.
She smiled and dipped her nose in the roses. “Mmm. They smell good.” She lowered her voice to a half-whisper. “Christine’s getting all pretty for you, and Mom made you manicotti. And a salad, I think.”
“Where is Mom?” He smelled her handiwork in the kitchen: manicotti, meatballs, bread.
Lily fingered a rose. “She ran to the store with Uncle Harry. They said you needed food.”
“Why would they do that?” Probably because they figured out he wouldn’t have been to the store, and maybe didn’t have more than beer and butter in the fridge.
She shrugged. “Uncle Harry said you looked like a sad sack.” She scrunched up her nose and asked, “What’s a sad sack?”
Damn that Harry. “Just a person who’s sad.” The first thing Harry needed to learn about saying anything within earshot of Lily was that she’d expect an explanation.
She studied him, pulled her bottom lip through her teeth, and said, “You don’t look sad. Not anymore.”
“Right.” He winked and flipped a pigtail over her shoulder.
“And I know why!” Her lips pulled into a wide smile. “Christine’s going back to your house today. The floors are all done, like brand-new. And Uncle Harry said you’ll probably stay in bed for a week.” She scratched her jaw, looked at him. “You’ll get hungry, Nate.”
Double-damn that man and his mouth. “He was just teasing.
You know how Uncle Harry likes to do that.”
Lily giggled and nodded. “Yup. He’s silly.” She grew quiet for eight seconds before she headed for the stove and said, “I’m hungry. Look what Mom has on top of the stove. Can I have a meatball?” Nate set the bouquet on the table and moved to the stove where he lifted the lid on the pot and peeked inside. “You can have one.” He spooned out two meatballs and set them in a dish. “Don’t try to steal mine.” She giggled and forked a chunk of meatball.
“Hello.”
Nate swung around so fast he almost spilled sauce on his shirt. Christine stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, looking beautiful and shy. Maybe she was as nervous as he was.
“Hi,” he said, handing the dish to Lily, no longer caring if she ate one meatball or ten. He moved toward his wife, slow, cautious, desperate to touch her, afraid to move too quickly. They had another chance to make things right, and he was not going to fail this time. His gaze darted to her belly, shot back to her face. She was carrying his baby. Her eyes grew bright as she reached for his hand and placed it on her belly.
“You’ll make a wonderful father,” she whispered.
“I love you.” He brushed his lips against her mouth, slow, longing, needful.
“Hey, kiss on the neck, like you’re supposed to do.” Lily stood a foot away, waiting for them to follow her instructions.
“Okay, okay.” He kissed Christine’s neck, trailed his lips along her jaw and ended with a deep kiss on the mouth. When he pulled away, he faced his little sister and said, “It’s okay to mix things up once in a while. Just so you know.”
She pulled on her pigtail and considered this. “Once in a while,” she repeated and then, “maybe.” Nate grinned and held out his hand. “Come here, we want to tell you something.”
Lily bounced forward and clasped his hand. “A secret?” she whispered.
He glanced at Christine, who nodded and said, “More like a surprise. A very happy surprise.” She slung an arm around Nate’s waist and he pulled her closer.
“You, Lily Desantro are going to be an aunt.”
Her blue eyes grew wide, her bottom lip quivered. “An aunt?”
Nate nodded and said in a gentle voice, “Christine and I are going to have a baby.”
“A baby!” She flung her arms around them and buried her head against her brother’s chest. “I’m going to be an aunt. I’m going to be an aunt.” Her head bobbed up. “When?”
“By Christmas,” Christine said.
“A Christmas baby,” Lily murmured. “In your tummy, right?” She pulled back to examine Christine’s belly. “Where’s the part that looks like a big ball?”
Nate stifled a laugh and said, “That will come soon enough.”
Lily leaned close to Christine’s belly and whispered, “Hi, little girl. I can’t wait to meet you. I’m Lily. I’m your aunt.”
“Uh, Lily, how do you know Christine’s going to have a girl?”
She looked at her brother and a smile spread across her face. “It’s going to be a girl, you’ll see.”
Nate glanced at Christine who shrugged. Girl, boy, he didn’t care as long as the baby was healthy. How many times had he heard that line? Enough to make him wonder at its sincerity, but now that he was the one expecting the baby, he got it. Oh yes, he definitely understood the honesty of that single sentence.
Lily spent the next several minutes considering names, all girls’ of course, and taking pictures of Christine’s still-flat belly. “I want to show her what she looked like when she was in your tummy.” Click, click, click. “Smile, Nate. Do you want your baby to think you’re a sourpuss?”
Thankfully, they were spared more picture-taking when Uncle Harry and Miriam walked in the back door, carrying bags of groceries. “Well, if it isn’t the Prom King,” Harry said, grinning at Nate. “I didn’t know you owned a tie. Or is that the one you wore at the wedding?”
“Shut up.” The guy could be a real smartass.
Harry laughed. “You know I’m only joking. If I didn’t like you, I’d ignore you.” He threw Christine a knowing look. “Ask my niece about that one.” Ah, Nate bet he was referring to that jerk, Connor Pendleton. Christine fidgeted and shot Harry a look Nate was beginning to recognize as seriously ticked off.
“Guess who’s going to have a baby?” Lily grabbed Harry’s hand and coaxed him toward her sister. “See?” She pointed to Christine’s belly. “She’s right in there.”
“A girl, huh?”
“Yup.” Lily nodded and snapped another picture. “A little girl.”
Nate glanced at his mother who stood at the kitchen table, clutching a handful of bananas. Damn, but he could tell from the way that bottom lip quivered, the tears would start soon. Maybe if he and Christine hurried, they could get out of here before the dam broke open and his mother flooded the kitchen. She sniffed and cleared her throat.
“Harry and I picked up a few things for you.” She paused, wiped her eyes. “Who wants to be bothered with shopping when you have more important things to do?” What she meant was, I know you have nothing but beer in your refrigerator and no inclination to fill it tonight. “And I made you manicotti and meatballs.”
“Thanks.” He grinned and added, “The meatballs were really good, weren’t they, Lily?”
“Nate!” She set her small hands on her hips. “That was our secret.”
“Ooops.”
Harry kissed Christine on the cheek and murmured, “I’m happy for you, kiddo.”
“Thank you, Uncle Harry.” She hugged him and said, “For always being here for me.”
“You know it, kiddo. Now go home with that husband of yours and don’t make me come here again to play mediator, or next time, I’ll charge you.”
He turned to Nate and said, “It doesn’t count if you buy a woman flowers and leave them on the kitchen table. Now give her the damn things and throw in a few sweet words.” He winked at Christine. “Women like that, don’t they, Chrissie, the mushier the better.”
Harry would have continued on if Lily hadn’t darted in the middle of his comments and announced she was starving. That changed the focus from Nate and Christine to food, which was where most subjects ended up in this house. Nate took the opportunity to snatch up the groceries, the manicotti, and whatever other goodies his mother had packed and wave good-bye. When they arrived home, he insisted on carrying Christine over the threshold; this was a new beginning for them, one that would be filled with memories, love, and stories to tell their children in years to come.
An hour later, they sat at the kitchen table, a tray of manicotti, salad, and a vase filled with sweetheart roses between them. Christine forked a piece of manicotti and slid a smile at Nate. “Your mother’s outdone herself again.”
“Doing for others is like her oxygen. Take that away and she’ll wither.”
She reached for his hand, squeezed. “She seems excited about the baby.”
“Oh, she’s excited. I’ll bet she already pulled out her knitting needles. Once she finds out if it’s a boy or girl,” he stopped, “do you want to know the sex of the baby?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There are so few things in this world that are pure surprise; let’s let our baby be one of them. Is that okay?”
He slid a smile her way, his voice low and intimate. “Sure. Let’s be surprised.”
“Nate,” she traced his wedding band with her index finger, “we’re going to have to talk about what happened between us, how we got so far apart.”
“I know.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I was miserable without you.” He brushed his fingers along her neck, trailed them over her collarbone to her chest, settled on her belly.
“Uncle Harry’s the one who made me see things the clearest, imagine that?”
“Yeah, he’s not as crusty as he makes out.”
“He seems different somehow, calmer, more level-headed.” She paused, as if considering the reasons for th
e shift in his behavior. “I wonder if he’s seeing Greta.”
“Your old cook?”
“Right. I wonder….”
Nate kissed the tip of her nose and said, “Harry’s a great guy, but can we not talk about him right now? I haven’t been alone with you in weeks, haven’t tasted you in longer than that… ”
Christine pulled away so she could look him straight in the eye. “I know you’re a man of action, but we’re going to talk about what happened and how to avoid it in the future.”
His lips twitched. “So, no action first, talk later?”
“Uh, no.”
He nodded. “Okay. Here’s what I’ve got. I’m going to trust you from now on, even when it kills me and goes against every defensive tactic I have. Trust doesn’t come easily for me, and aside from my mother, Lily, and Jack Finnegan, I don’t trust anybody very much. But I’m going to trust you, no matter what, because I love you and I want us to work more than anything.” He blew out a long breath and said, “I’ve never promised that to anyone. And tomorrow morning, I’ll come to your office and we’ll fill out the loan work for the furniture business.”
She leaned forward, placed a soft kiss on his mouth, and murmured, “Thank you. I don’t know much about how to have a relationship either. I didn’t see it growing up, and I fought it as an adult because I didn’t want to get hurt. But what I learned is that opening up to hurt is part of the equation, just like trust is.” Christine framed his face with her hands. “I love you, Nate Desantro, now and until I draw my last breath. I promise, from this day on, I’ll trust you, no matter what.”
“From this day on,” he repeated.
She wrapped her hands around his neck and whispered, “Now, you can take me to bed.”
***
“Are you warm enough, Mrs. Blacksworth?”
Elissa tucked the afghan around Gloria and stepped back to inspect her work. Oh, but she was attentive and interested and quite sympathetic to her employer’s plight. A woman with cancer all alone? No husband? No child to help her? How tragic. Indeed. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
