“Good to meet you, buddy. Take a load off.” He indicated the matching recliner next to his. Both were angled toward the portable television in the corner.
“Kitty says you’re here on business?”
“My work brought me here, yes,” Gino confirmed.
“Well, I’m glad you have time for a little pleasure, too.”
Gino accepted the beer Kitty offered him and popped open its top. He raised the can in a toast. “To pleasure.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Mark took a long sip from his own can. He glanced at the muted television screen in the corner.
“How long have you known Megan?” he asked, his gaze shifting away from the silent screen.
“We’ve known each other…” Gino looked at the television. “Hey, that hit looks like it’s going all the way.”
Mark grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. The announcer’s voice blared out “…say goodbye to that one, ladies and gentlemen. It’s every player and fan’s dream—a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth.”
“All right.” Mark grabbed his beer and took another long swallow. “We’ll get these guys to the World Series yet.”
Kitty looked at Megan and rolled her eyes. “These boys have all they need—baseball and beer. C’mon inside. I want you to try this new dip recipe I made.”
Kitty started toward the back door, not noticing Megan’s hesitation. Megan looked at Gino stretched out in the lounge chair, his beer can balanced on his belly. He glanced up at her.
“It wasn’t even a pinch hitter,” Mark was saying. “It’s that burn with the lowest RBI in the league. He hasn’t had a home run all season. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Gino winked at Megan and smiled. She sent him a stern look signaling “that’s enough.”
“Megan,” Kitty called through the back door screen.
She started reluctantly toward the house, giving Gino one last look of warning over her shoulder.
Kitty was in the kitchen opening a bag of potato chips. “I’m really glad you came,” she said.
Megan stayed at the back door, looking out to the deck.
“Is everything all right out there?” Kitty asked. “You don’t think Gino feels out of place, being the new kid on the block and all?”
“Oh, no.” Megan turned from the door and walked over to the kitchen table. “Don’t worry about Gino. He’s very adaptable.”
Kitty placed the bowl of chips on the table. “And don’t worry about me. I won’t start sobbing into my Jell-O salad during dinner.”
“Everything’s okay.” Megan said it as a statement, but Kitty interpreted it as a question.
“Let’s just say I’m not the basket case I was this afternoon,” she answered as she opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of lemonade. She poured a tall glass for Megan. “I’m sorry.”
Kitty reached behind her for the glass of wine on the counter. “Sometimes, this whole thing gets the better of me.” She took a sip.
“Do you thing you should be doing that?” Megan blurted.
Kitty looked at her strangely. “I don’t see any good reason why not.” She waved the glass of wine in the air. “Cheers.”
Megan watched in alarm as her friend took another drink. She had to stop her, not only for her own health but for the health of her baby. But how? She couldn’t just tell her the truth.
She took a big breath. “Alcohol has been proven harmful to unborn fetuses.”
Kitty looked at her over the rim of her glass. Her eyes filled with heartbreaking confusion and pain.
“How could you say…?” Her voice cracked. She put down the wine.
“Listen.” Megan set down her own glass of lemonade. “You say you feel tired, moody, fat—”
“I’m aware of how I feel.” Kitty cut her off.
“They could be the symptoms of PMS.”
Kitty folded her arms beneath her chest. Her jaw was so tight, it trembled.
“They could also be the symptoms of pregnancy,” Megan added softly.
Kitty’s jawline went slack. “You, of all people, know how painful this is for me.”
“Have you gotten your period yet?” Megan pressed on.
“No, but—”
“So, how do you know you’re not pregnant?”
“I know,” Kitty insisted.
“How?”
“I don’t feel pregnant.”
“Have you ever been pregnant?” Megan countered.
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then, how do you know what it feels like to be pregnant?”
Kitty was silent.
“C’mon, let’s go get one of those home pregnancy tests. They’re supposed to be accurate.” Megan headed toward the door. She looked back at Kitty who hadn’t moved.
“If it’s negative…” Kitty’s voice trailed off.
Megan walked back to her friend arid put an arm around her shoulders. “What if it’s positive?”
“It’d be a miracle.”
“Miracles can happen,” Megan gently insisted.
“Well, I haven’t seen one lately. Have you?”
Yes, Megan thought, and, for a moment, she was back in Gino’s arms again. She looked into her friend’s eyes and smiled reassuringly. “Then, the odds are in our favor.” She squeezed Kitty’s shoulders. “Let’s go get that pregnancy test.”
Kitty’s expression was both hopeful and scared. “I’ve got three in the top drawer of my bedroom dresser.”
“You’ve been holding out on me all this time?” Megan turned her friend around and steered her toward the bedroom.
Kitty’s hands trembled as she held the first test strip. So great was her fear and hope, that she began to cry while waiting for the results. When it showed positive, her tears fell harder and faster, her knees buckled, her breath began to come in short gasps. Megan was crying almost as hard before the second test was finished. By the time the third test came out positive, the two women were crying and choking on their joy.
“It’s as if you knew,” Kitty sputtered. Her face was translucent, a masterpiece of happiness.
Megan took her friend’s hand. “I only wished for it with all my heart.”
“Hey.” Mark’s voice came from the doorway. He took in the tearstained faces of his wife and her best friend. “Is everything all right?”
Kitty, just beginning to retain control, started to cry all over again. Mark rushed to her side, his features tightening with worry. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Kitty wrapped her arms around her husband. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Before Megan reached the kitchen, she heard Mark’s wild whoop. Smiling, she crossed the kitchen. Again she heard another gleeful shriek. Only it didn’t come from the bedroom behind her. It had come from the backyard. Megan stopped smiling.
She hurried to the door, stopping short before the screen, her eyes widening. On the deck, Dolores was moving across the grass green carpet toward Gino.
“It’s him. It’s him,” she rejoiced before seizing Gino around the middle and wrapping him in a tight embrace. Elliot watched, looking as if he was sucking on something sour. His gaze lifted, and he saw Megan standing at the screen door.
She came out and stood on the deck. “I guess introductions aren’t necessary.”
With a pretense of embarrassment, Gino gently disentangled himself from Dolores’s arms. He looked above her to Elliot’s stoic stare. Gino shrugged sheepishly. “I’m often mistaken for Fabio.”
Dolores laughed, waving away his comment with a graceful sweep of her healed hands. The rings she wore on almost every finger caught the light of the sun. Her nails were lacquered a brilliant red.
“Do you know what I did today?” she confided to Gino. She raised her other hand and displayed it with a delicate twist of her wrist. “I had a manicure.”
“Your hands are lovely,” Gino assured her.
“Thanks to you,” Dolor
es gushed. She took his hands in her new ones. “Thank you for dancing into my life yesterday.” She beamed up at him until emotion overcame her once more, demanding another hug.
“Megan.” It was a summons. “I’d like to speak to you.” Without waiting for her answer, Elliot walked toward the front of the house. Megan glanced at Gino helpless in Dolores’s embrace, then started after Elliot, feeling equally helpless.
Elliot walked to the end of the driveway, then turned on his heel. Gravel skittered across the grass. He said nothing, his lips colorless. The breeze had stopped. Fury hung so heavy in the still air, Megan waited for it to curve the boughs of a sapling on the corner.
She didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something. “Dolores is going through her change, isn’t she?”
Elliot wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Explain to me again who this Gino is.”
Megan took a step backward, away from the aura of his anger. “He’s a friend.”
Elliot nodded as if he understood. Megan knew he didn’t. “Tell me.” He took a step toward her, bringing her back into the circle of his contempt. “Is he also a friend of my mother’s?”
Megan fought to stay even with his stare. “She seems to think so.”
“So, they’ve met?” he cross-examined.
“What do you mean by ‘met’?” She evaded his question.
“What I mean is—” his voice rose to the roar of a wounded animal “—why is my mother back there hugging some stranger who likes to sleep at my fiancée’s?”
He turned away from her. She saw his shoulders jerk once. She lightly touched his back and felt him stiffen.
“My girlfriend forgets to mention that a mystery man has moved in with her. A man does a bump and grind, then disappears, during Sunday dinner at my mother’s. That night my mother starts to sing ‘Great Balls of Fire.’” He turned slowly and looked Megan squarely in the eye. “My mother doesn’t sing.”
“Perhaps she never had a reason to before,” Megan offered.
“Well, she has a reason now.” Elliot puffed a breath of disgust. “She’s happy. You know my mother, she’s never happy.”
Megan had to smile. “But, Elliot, being happy is good.”
“Some stranger sashays across my mother’s shag carpet and, all of a sudden, she’s doing a Jerry Lee Lewis lounge act. That’s not good. That’s bizarre.” Megan laughed out loud. “I think it’s good to see your mother smile.”
“And my mother doesn’t hug,” Elliot went on. “But right now, she’s in a choke hold with Little Italy back there. How do you explain that?”
Megan half smiled. “hospitality?”
“Did you hear what she yelled? ‘It’s him!’ As if the Second Coming had started. You don’t find all this unusual, or am I the only sane person here?”
Megan’s grin vanished. “Did the doctor increase your mother’s estrogen supplements?”
“She thinks the man in her house yesterday and the man’ back there are one and the same. So do I.”
Megan’s stomach tightened. She chewed the inside of her cheek.
Elliot tipped his head to one side. Megan shifted beneath his study.
“My mother was made a fool of yesterday. Is it my turn today?”
“Let’s go back and join the others.” Megan attempted to change the subject.
He ignored her suggestion. “You’ve been different, too, for the last few days,” he remarked.
“Kitty made a new dip. Let’s go try it.”
“You’re jumpy, nervous, distracted—ever since your friend came.”
Megan took several steps backward. “I really think we should get back to the others.”
Elliot refused to let her leave, “That’s what he is, isn’t he—a friend?”
“Yes, that’s what he is—a friend.”
Elliot kept her centered in his sight. “Nothing less … nothing more?”
“I’m going back.” Megan started to walk away.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
She stopped. Her head pulled back as if she’d been slapped. Instantly she remembered the kiss, the taste, the touch of Gino. So vivid was the memory, his hands could have been on her now, smoothing the curve of her spine. She turned and faced Elliot, and if the guilt was not on her face, it was in her heart.
“How can you even ask such a thing?” was her automatic denial.
Elliot inhaled deeply as if struggling for control. “How can I not?” He crossed the space between them and grasped her arm. “Who is he, Megan?”
She looked up into his face. A muscle quivered across the length of his throat. She could feel his vulnerability as if she’d reached up and touched that trembling flesh.
She had never meant to hurt him, and she told him now.
His grip tightened on her forearm. “So, it’s true?”
“No” Her protest was loud and immediate.
He looked down at her, his eyes staying dark with doubt. He opened his mouth but didn’t speak. He dropped her arm and began to pace in a small circle.
She made a move toward him, but stopped The emotional distance between them was much greater than any physical closeness could gap. She watched him circle, wondering what she could say to him, what could she tell him to take away his anger, to bring back his trust?
There was only one answer: the truth.
Even the idea of it made her inhale sharply and hope for a sudden storm, a bolt of lightning, a wind so strong shingles would fly from the roofs, anything to avoid this moment. Elliot endlessly circled. Megan’s thoughts went round and round.
She’d hurt him. She’d broken his trust. She’d lied; she’d evaded. She was no better than the men who had wooed her mother, and then wandered off. She was no better than those she’d despised. Elliot deserved better.
He deserved the truth.
But what if he didn’t believe her?
He was the man she was going to marry. If he didn’t believe her, who would? She was to be his wife, and if everyone else said she was crazy, he’d say she was sane. If everyone else called her story a lie, he’d state it as fact. If everyone else laughed and pointed, he’d stand by her side.
“Elliot.” She reached out her hand, but he didn’t take it. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Chapter Nine
When Megan reached the backyard, she saw that Kitty and Mark had come out to the deck. Mark was lighting the grill. Kitty was sitting at the picnic table, smiling ecstatically. Dolores was there, too, her smile approaching Kitty’s rapture. Gino sat in between the two women, an expression on his face as though he’d eaten too many green apples.
“Okay,” Megan instructed Elliot. “Have a seat.”
“Megan,” he resisted. “Exactly what’s going on?”
She smiled reassuringly. “Just have a seat, and you’ll see.”
She stood in front of Gino and the others. “Dolores, you’re right. Gino was the one who came to your house yesterday.”
Dolores clapped her new hands together. “I knew it.” She smiled at Gino.
Gino looked at Megan with interest.
“As far as I know, the dancing was an impromptu performance. He has much greater gifts than that.”
“Amen,” Dolores said.
“For example.” Megan looked at Elliot’s mother. “He cured Dolores’s hands.” She looked at her friend. “And he made Kitty pregnant.”
There was a large crash as the platter of steaks fell. Mark came toward the picnic table, a long-handled spatula raised menacingly, his chest rising and falling beneath a chefs apron that said Best Beef In The East. “He’s mine.”
Elliot sprang up. “I want a piece of him first.”
Gino stood up and snapped his fingers. Both men froze midstep, their faces contorted with anger. Kitty and Dolores were also as still as statues. Megan waved her hand in front of Kitty’s eyes. Nothing. Not even a blink.
She looked up at Gino. “What’d you do?”
> “Let’s not worry about what I’m doing,” he said. “The question is what are you doing?”
“Elliot thinks we’re sleeping together. I have to show him you’re a genie.”
Gino rubbed his chin, then glanced back at Elliot poised with one hand curled into a fist. “You’d be safer with the imagined infidelity.”
“What?” Megan was indignant. “I should let Elliot think we’re having an affair when nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, there was that one kiss, but that meant nothing, absolutely nothing.” She gave Gino a sidelong glance.
“Of course, it meant nothing,” he too readily agreed.
“Two comrades merely celebrating a successful conclusion.”
“It’s not every day you create a child,” he observed.
“It was a kiss for good luck,” she offered.
“Just a way to say ‘job well done.’”
“I’m an engaged woman, after all.”
“I’m the future king of my kind.”
They eyed each other. Megan was the first to speak again. “So, there’s absolutely no reason for Elliot to suspect anything. My only choice is to prove you’re a genie.”
Gino looked at Elliot, then back at her. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“You’re taking a big chance.”
“I have to,” she said, resolved. “I don’t want Elliot to leave me.”
“You’re the master.” Gino snapped his fingers once more. The others came back to life.
Mark lunged toward him. “You low-down—”
“Mark!” Kitty vaulted between her husband and Gino. Mark stopped short. Elliot, one step behind him, crashed into his backside.
“I’ve never been with this man.” Kitty gestured toward Gino.
“No, of course not.” Megan came up beside her. “Kitty having an affair with Gino is as ridiculous as…as me having an affair with him or…or Dolores here.”
“Now, hold on,” Dolores protested. “I may be old, but I’m not dead.” She smiled at Gino.
“What I’m trying to say is … is …” Megan held out her hands as if trying to pluck the right words from thin air. She glanced at Gino who watched her with amused detachment. “Oh boy, I guess the only way to say this is to come right out and say it … Gino is a genie.”
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