by Fiona Lowe
In your life.
Melissa laughed. “Scott is all about sex and nothing about marriage.”
“So you love wedding gowns but you don’t want to get married?”
Melissa took a long slug of her drink. “Oh, I want to get married and I have my gown all picked out. I just need a single man in his thirties who doesn’t live at home, isn’t divorced, has a well-paying job, doesn’t have commitment-issues and wants to have babies straightaway.”
“Are you ordering him from a catalog?” Amy asked, thinking about Ben who’d clearly wanted to get married once but now, after the trauma of Lexie, she doubted he did.
“I wish. But I’m determined to avoid the heartache and financial problems that my eldest sister’s facing. My friend Emily and I made a pact to find two perfect guys by Christmas.”
“That’s not so far away.”
“I know it.” She sighed and drained her glass. “Here’s to finding a good man.”
Amy wondered if she’d already found one.
* * *
Scott tousled Lily’s hair before collapsing next to Melissa on the couch. The party was over and all the guests had left the house. “Man, I’m exhausted.”
She laughed. “Five-year-olds have more energy and stamina than I thought.” Her gaze drifted to Lily who was looking at a picture book. “Lily’s got your sense of rhythm. She’s a great little dancer.”
The compliment was unexpected and it warmed him. “Thanks. She likes to sing too, but sadly with her speech impediment singing in the shower’s going to be as close as that gets to a career.”
Melissa frowned. “I know you must have mixed with the crème of musical talent, but most of us who like to sing don’t have the ability to be soloists, Scott. Doesn’t stop us singing.”
Her words set him back slightly. He loved Lily to the point of pain and he wanted the best for her but part of him always went first to what she’d never be. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it in those terms.”
Melissa gave a wry smile. “Besides, if they allowed me to sing in the school choir, they’ll let Lily in if she wants to join in the future.”
“I’ve never heard you sing.”
“And you’re not going to.”
Her emphatic tone was an instant dare as well as a test. “Hey, Lily, do you want to hear Missy sing?”
His daughter jumped up from her book, a wide smile on her face and her brown eyes sparkling from behind her glasses. “Hot potato?”
Melissa tensed and for a moment he thought she was going to give an excuse.
“You’re a sly fox, Scott Knapp,” she muttered as Lily stood in front of her clapping with expectation. Then all her attention was on his daughter. “Lily, I don’t know that song so you need to teach me. You sing it while your daddy plays the music.”
Before Scott had reached the piano, Lily had started singing and dancing. She was kicking out her jean-clad legs with enthusiastic fervor and giving her own interpretation to the dance actions she’d learned from watching the DVD over and over and over.
Melissa watched Lily intently before standing up and smoothing down her bright green pants with rigid hands. “I’ll try but I’m not sure my dancing’s going to be as good as yours.”
She formed two fists and stacked them on top of each other and then in a delightfully husky but definitely off-key voice she sang, “Hot potato, hot potato.”
She hadn’t been exaggerating—she really couldn’t sing—and yet she kept on going, moving on to the next verse of cold spaghetti and flinging her arms out as wildly as Lily. After a rousing version of mashed banana she fell onto the couch with a giggling Lily and gave him a death stare. “Happy now?”
She’d stepped way out of her comfort zone so as not to disappoint Lily. He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her but he smiled instead. “Definitely amused.”
She pointed two fingers at him as if they were a handgun. “You tell anyone what you just heard and you’re a dead man.”
“Good to know.” But he’d just seen past the facade of the well-dressed, perfectly made-up woman who didn’t take any crap from anyone. She was like crème brûlée—once you cracked the hard topping, she was all soft inside. “Come on, Lil,” he scooped up his tired daughter, “time for a bath and bed.”
Melissa watched Lily snuggle into Scott’s chest and she had to rub her sternum to move the heavy feeling that had settled there. If Scott had thanked her once for helping him out today, he’d thanked her ten times but she’d loved being in the thick of the party action with the little girls. There’d been a couple of challenging moments when she’d had to remind one of the guests it was Lily’s party and she’d had to think on her feet when Eva Sorenson had asked why Lily talked funny and why she wasn’t wearing a party dress. Apart from that it had been lots of fun but now it was over and Lily was heading to bed.
This was her cue to depart.
She drained her glass of wine and stood up. “I guess I better leave you to it.”
“You don’t have to,” Scott said quickly, sounding like he really meant it. “I was hoping you’d stay for a thank-you supper. I’ve made a beef stew and I have a nice Zinfandel to go with.”
She thought about going home to her empty house. All that waited for her there was dusting and dishes and here was Scott offering to cook. “I guess I have to eat so why not?”
“Great.” He got a sheepish look. “How would you feel about reheating the stew and peeling the potatoes?”
“Hot potato,” Lily sang sleepily, not even lifting her head off Scott’s shoulder.
The heavy feeling in her chest gained another pound. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Thanks. I’ll be about twenty minutes.” He looked down at Lily. “Say good-night to Missy.”
“Ni-ni, Miffy.”
“Sleep tight, Lily.” She watched Scott’s retreating back for a few seconds before entering the tiny kitchen and turning on Scott’s MP3 player. A classical piano piece swelled in the cramped space and she started clearing away the remains of the party so she could find counter space to peel the potatoes. Just as she was opening the oven, a jarring rap song came on and she almost dropped the casserole dish. Rap? She wondered what else he had on his playlist.
Having completed her tasks, she opened the wine and took a wander around the small living room looking at photos, picking them up and setting them back down. There were a few of Scott and Lily together—at the park, at the zoo, with a Christmas tree—one with Lily and a man who looked like an older version of Scott and a larger group photo that she assumed was Scott’s extended family. She found herself looking for a photo of Lily’s mother and wondered if the picture she had in her hand was it.
“That’s my adopted sister.”
Scott’s quiet voice surprised her and she set the photo down before turning around feeling caught red-handed. “She needs a dust.”
“We all need a dust.” He poured himself a glass of wine.
“Will Lily sleep after all the excitement?”
“She’s a great eater and sleeper.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Now that I got to brag about at playgroup.”
If he’d taken Lily to playgroup then he’d probably been raising her alone for a long time. Screw waiting to be told, she’d just ask. “Does Lily see much of her mom?”
“She doesn’t see her at all,” he said curtly before walking into the kitchen.
She followed and leaned against the counter watching him slam the masher into the cooked potatoes, the muscles of his forearms bunching. He whipped butter and milk furiously into the potatoes, turning the three ingredients into soft, creamy mashed potatoes with a tension and fraught energy she’d never associated with him.
She set the table with silverware and trivets for the hot dishes, all the time think
ing about a woman who could dent Scott’s usually calm aura.
He brought over the stew, the mashed potatoes and a green salad and they served themselves from the center of the table. When they were both seated with steaming food on their plates, she continued from where she’d left off. “Why doesn’t Lily see her mother?”
“Because it’s better this way.”
He sounded so resolute. So hard. It struck her as being utterly out of character with the gentle and caring guy she was getting to know. She wasn’t certain she agreed with him on this parenting point. She’d had friends who’d been separated from one of their parents by the other and it hadn’t worked in their favor. “How is it better? I don’t know any kid who wouldn’t prefer to have both parents in their life.”
He put down his fork with a clatter. “I know you have strong opinions on just about everything, Melissa, but this time you don’t have enough information to have an opinion at all.”
She refilled his wineglass and then met his ire-filled gaze. “So tell me so I do.”
His mouth tightened. “It’s pretty simple really. Margaret doesn’t want to be part of Lily’s life.”
She didn’t know what to say.
He raised his brows. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.” She pushed a piece of beef around her plate. “How can a mother not want her child?”
“That’s the exact question I asked myself for two years but I’m over it now.” He fiddled with the stem of his wineglass. “Sure, I worry for Lily but answer me this—isn’t it better to have no mother than one who can’t hide her distaste and disappointment in you?”
An ache throbbed deep down inside her. “Your ex-wife couldn’t love Lily because of her Down syndrome?”
He shrugged. “Margaret’s a perfectionist. She’d be hard-pressed to love a normal child.”
“Then why did she have one in the first place?” Her words came out with an accompanying anger she hadn’t anticipated. An anger tied up with her own lack of a child.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We weren’t married when Margaret got pregnant. She’d just been accepted into the Ann Arbor symphony orchestra, second desk, which was step one of her plan to become first violin in an orchestra somewhere, preferably Boston or Chicago. Ironically, going on the dates, Lily was probably conceived the night we celebrated that success.”
Melissa’s stomach cramped. “So Lily wasn’t planned?”
“No. She was a total surprise and we got married. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy or an easy time. Margaret was stressing how she was going to keep up her practice, deal with touring and a baby. I couldn’t get her to see that between the two of us, we could balance our careers and one child. God, I remember saying, ‘You’re being a drama queen. How hard can one baby be?’”
Irony twisted his mouth. “When Lily was born needing far more help than the average baby, Margaret didn’t cope.”
“I can imagine it would have been a huge shock.” She hooked his gaze with hers. “I don’t think anyone goes into parenthood thinking they’re going to have a child with a disability.”
“You got that right, especially a woman who’d barely come around to the idea of being a mother, period, let alone the mother of a child who isn’t perfect.” He sighed, his eyes filling with memories. “She went on antidepressants so she could attempt to function and I picked up the slack. When Lily was six weeks old, Margaret’s doctor suggested she return to work in an attempt to help lift the depression. My next concert tour dates hadn’t been scheduled and my agent was arguing with venues so I took over at home.”
He rubbed his face and slowly shook his head. “I didn’t know what hit me. I had a wife who barely spoke to me, a baby with a heart condition that scared me shitless and a daily schedule of early intervention programs that exhausted both me and Lily. On top of all of that was the normal baby stuff like bottles and diapers.”
It was nothing like what she imagined being the parent of a newborn would be like and her heart went out to all three of them. “It sounds like a tough, tough time.”
He met her gaze. “I’ve had better days.”
She wondered if he’d been the one to pull the pin on the marriage. “How old was Lily when you separated?”
“We didn’t make it to her first birthday. When Lily was eleven months old, Margaret got on a Tuesday-morning flight to go audition for the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Lily and I waved her off from Detroit with a promise to meet her plane on Thursday. She never came back.”
Never came back. “But she’s seen Lily at least once since, right?”
He shook his head. “Margaret’s life is all about Margaret. Believe me, things are better this way. Lily needs to know she’s loved and adored and I love her to bits. She’s my joy and my delight. She makes me laugh and she teaches me more than I teach her.”
His love for his daughter rolled into her and she gave his hand a quick squeeze, hating how she’d been so quick to jump to conclusions about him the first night she’d met him. “And I’m guessing you haven’t had another concert tour?”
“Hey, I’ve played to many an appreciative playgroup.”
His irony downplayed the seriousness of his career-ending decision to raise his child. She thought about how much Lily had enjoyed her first party today even though she’d often been a beat behind the other little girls. The glow of delight on her face when she blew out her birthday candles stayed with her. “You’re the most amazing man I think I’ve ever met. You gave up your career for Lily.”
“Lily needs me.”
And there it was. The simple and yet heartbreaking truth. Sometimes life totally sucked. She stood up and went and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting to touch him. “So exactly how heavy a sleeper is Lily?”
He grinned up at her. “Very.”
“Good, but I won’t stay the night.”
“Thank you.”
His words should have reassured her. They almost did.
Chapter Seventeen
Boneless and panting, Amy eased herself gently off Ben, kissed him and then rolled in next to him. “That was a perfect afternoon delight. Thank you.”
He grinned, tangling his hand gently in her hair. “Anytime.”
She drew small circles on his chest, loving being cuddled up next to him. “It was especially thoughtful of you to lend my parents your bike so they were gone all day.”
“That’s me. Mr. Generosity.” He stroked her cheek. “I’m just trying to get in sweet with your dad so it doesn’t feel like Antarctic temperatures whenever we meet in the great room.”
Her heart trembled at his thoughtfulness and she had to work hard to ignore it. “It was nice of Ella and Al to invite them to supper too. It gives me a few more hours to work on Janey’s gown and then I’ll be ready for the final fitting.”
His green eyes hooked her gaze and took no prisoners. “You need to tell your folks about your job and the dress.”
She tensed, not wanting to have this conversation again. “I’ve told you why I can’t do that.”
“I know and I don’t agree, but you haven’t factored in the fact that Ella knows about the dress.”
Horrified, she sat up fast. “Ella knows?”
“Well I think she does. Last week I jumped into a conversation when Ella mentioned your sewing skills.”
“Last week?” She heard the screech in her voice. “And you’ve only just thought to tell me now?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You know how I feel about lying.”
“I’m not lying. I’m just not mentioning it.”
“Lexie didn’t mention her sexuality and it totally screwed me up. Tell your parents now before they find out and everything
is ten times worse.”
She pictured talking to her parents. Mom, Dad, I lost my prestigious job that makes you so proud of me and makes up for the fact I’ve hardly ever had a boyfriend and my personal life sucks. Oh, and I’m also being blackmailed by Jonathon and I can’t get an interview anywhere.
Nothing could be worse than that.
She bit her knuckle thinking about the lie Ben had unwittingly lived with and the fallout of it. “I’ll tell them about the dress. Happy?”
Reproach scudded through his eyes.
If she’d wanted absolution from him on that point, she didn’t get it.
* * *
“You ready, eh?” Al sat astride the monstrous bike with a grin on his face the width of Texas.
“My picnic will be squished as flat as a bug in those saddlebags,” Ella said, clutching her basket and at straws, while looking for a way to get out of this ride. “I’ll take the car and meet you there.”
“Oh, no. You promised,” Al said, getting off the bike with an ease that belied his age. “I guarantee you no squished subs.” He relieved her of the basket and carefully packed the sandwiches and drinks.
She held her hand out for the empty basket but he ignored her and instead strode up to her porch, denying her the excuse of retreating with it. As he bent over, safely depositing it under a chair, she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in black leather pants.
She’d known Al Swenson for most of her adult life and she’d never noticed his butt before. She immediately gave herself a shake. Today wasn’t the time to start noticing things like that.
He walked back to her and said, “Let’s rock ‘n’ roll.”
The idea of rolling made her more anxious than ever. “Where’s my helmet?”
“Aw, Ella, you’ll enjoy it more without one.”
“I’ll barely enjoy it with one.”
He unclipped it from the saddlebag and placed the helmet on her head, his fingers brushing her chin as he adjusted the strap. He leaned in. “Is it comfortable?”
“Yes.” Surprisingly, it was. She studied the bike. “Where do I sit?”
