“I was flunking math. She was assigned my peer tutor.”
“Oh,” I murmured, feigning mild interest.
“She was my first, but I wasn’t hers. She’d been with other guys.”
“How’d you do in math that year?”
He laughed hardily. “Chiametti, only you would think to ask a question like that, but for your information, I passed. She was an excellent tutor.”
“In more ways than one.” My mouth tipped up in a half smile. “What happened to her, to the two of you?”
“She went away to college in the fall.” He took a handful of my hair and ran the strands under his nose, as he often did, smelling my hair. It was an oddly endearing act. “I didn’t know shit about relationships at the time. Let’s say I got a crash course.”
Commiserating, I laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.”
“It wasn’t some epic romance. We didn’t go out or even hold hands. She barely acknowledged me in school. She tutored me, and we fucked.” I flinched at his choice of words, and his chin dropped. “It was just a thing.”
I breathed out, trying hard to let the details roll off of me. “Was there anyone who wasn’t just that to you?”
He gave me a sidelong look. “Just what?”
“Somebody who wasn’t just ‘a thing.’ Someone you had an epic romance with. Did you ever fall in love with someone, you know, before me?”
He let my hair slip from his fingers. “You know the answer to that.”
“You might fool some people, but I know you aren’t as impenetrable as you let on. There must’ve been someone who was special, someone you had strong feelings for. Maybe Hannah or Kate?” I was fishing, but I knew there had to be at least one that stood out from the rest.
“Not Hannah or Kate.” He leaned back putting an arm behind my shoulders, his thumb swirling circles on my upper arm. “There was one girl.”
I took a short, quick breath and asked, “What was her name?”
His inhale was slow, but long and deep, telling me this was a tough nugget to share. “Lacie,” he finally said.
I’d never heard the name before, odd for such an unusual name, especially in our small town. “What was it about her that made her special?”
“Nothing in the way you’d probably think,” he said. “She was kind of sad—her father was abusive—and I guess I just wanted to make her smile.”
My heart expanded, and I reached to sweep the hair away from his eyes. “Did you love her?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it was, it wasn’t anything like I feel for you. Not even close.” He enclosed me in his arms and pressed his mouth to the top of my head. “She ditched me for Rob Pace.”
“Robby Pace? Ugh. The girl must’ve been crazy to leave you for him.”
He didn’t smile as I thought he would. Instead, he looked at his watch and, with a sigh, stood. “Come on, it’s time.”
I followed him to the reception desk to sign in and then headed for the elevators. We waited for an elevator car, the smell of disinfectant in the air. Next to me, Toby jingled the loose change in his pocket. A large hollow opened in my chest.
Toby’s hand swept lightly down the back of my arm. It made my skin pucker with gooseflesh. “Claude, are we all right?”
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since our fight, but it already felt like weeks ago. In the heat of the moment, I’d been emotionally railroaded, and my hasty response to his old girlfriends had been childish to say the least. With my father’s crisis at the forefront of my thoughts, my interest in the girls who came before me fell away. I wasn’t sure what I would be facing once I got to my father’s hospital room, but the one thing I was sure of was that Toby seemed ready to stick by my side through all of it.
I tightened my fingers around his. “We’re great,” I said.
* * * *
There’s something about seeing a normally strapping, six-foot man lying pale-faced and helpless in a hospital bed, especially when that man happens to be your father. Dad slept a lot, and when he was awake, he said very little which told me the pain was bad. His doctor said that though he’d be uncomfortable they wanted him up and moving around as soon as he was well enough. They were already talking about moving him to a rehabilitative care center for some intensive inpatient recovery.
“How long before I can get back to my normal routine?” he asked. The doctor remained optimistic, but she told my father it was unlikely that he would return to his previous full range of mobility. I think, in his heart of hearts, my father believed he was going back to work.
With the extent of his injuries, it simply wasn’t possible.
Over the course of the next week, I popped into work sporadically and tried to keep up on class work while keeping my father company. My mother flew in midweek. Toby offered to go with me to JFK Airport to pick her up, but I needed some time alone with my mother to acclimate to her.
Mom stood at the baggage claim in typical business attire, a cell phone to her ear. Even after her flight dressed as she was, she looked dignified and capable. We were similar in height and build; I had the same oval shaped face, long neck, and high cheekbones doused with freckles, hers hidden under a layer of perfectly tinted foundation. Visually, though, we shared little else. In the same way that my father’s Italian family had prevailed in my life, so did their blood in my veins. My long, naturally dark hair was the opposite of my mother’s shoulder-length ash blonde bob; my skin a deeper tone than her fair-skinned German heritage; and my whimsical floral print dress in stark contrast to her formal, pale gray skirted suit ensemble, a white ruffled silk blouse underneath. Even my simple black flats couldn’t compare to her stylish teal high heels.
She tossed the phone into her bag and held her arms open to me. “Don’t just stand there! Give me a smoosh.”
I went to her immediately. Mom smelled like she always did—of Chanel No 5. She claimed the scent, along with the top-of-the-line facial moisturizer and makeup regime she regularly pushed at me, were basic necessities. At forty-four, she looked ageless. Perfect. When she squeezed me to her, hot emotion clawed at the back of my throat, unraveling my composure and coercing me into acknowledging how much I missed her.
We made the trek to the tiered parking area where my car awaited, and she listened, asking appropriate questions as I updated her on my father’s condition.
“While you’re running around, I’ll handle the household stuff and make sure you eat,” she said, and I smiled at her. My mother was talented in many areas, but her culinary skills were limited to heating up frozen, pre-cooked breaded items. We both knew she was here more as moral support than anything else. “I’m adept at moving dust around, and I have wicked mad takeout ordering skills.”
I laughed. It was possible that my mother was hipper than I was.
Midday traffic on the Belt Parkway was light, and we made great time getting back to Sayville. My mother sat quietly for a few minutes, taking in the familiar landmarks. I wondered if she missed any of it, but apprehensive of her answer, I didn’t ask.
“I hope I’m finally going to meet this Toby fella. It’s the first time I’ll meet a boyfriend of yours,” she said.
“Yes, you’ll meet him. He’s amazing and talented, and with Daddy in the hospital, he’s been so supportive.” A throng of pride fluttered in my chest. “He’ll be home from work soon, so we’ll stop by to say hello.”
We pulled up at Toby’s house a few minutes before he was due to arrive home. Mom’s realtor-trained eyes scanned the small, plain house. “Didn’t you tell me he’s a carpenter?” she asked.
“Obviously, the house still needs a lot of work, but he just rebuilt the porch,” I was quick to respond, pointing to the front steps. “He’s been making improvements inside, too. Wait until you see the kitchen.”
I unlocked the front door, and Bernie barked excitedly to be let out of her crate.
Startled, Mom stepped back. “What’s that?”
> “Bernie, our dog.” I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door and rushed to free her. She was happy to see me, but her floppy ears pricked with interest at the new person in the house. As soon as I let her out, she bypassed me and made a beeline for Mom.
“Oh!” Mom burst out, laughing nervously as Bernie gave her the standard fanatical, wet welcome.
“Sorry about that, Mom. Come on, girl.” I grabbed her collar and led her to the back door and let her out into the yard. Mom followed me several steps behind.
“The kitchen is lovely,” she commented, laying a hand on the granite countertop and taking in the aspects of the remodeled room. I made coffee, basking in the approval. “I’d like to see the rest of the house. Mind if I have a look around?” She was off, peeking through the front rooms on her way to the stairs.
“Toby hasn’t done any improvements upstairs.” I left the coffee to perk and trailed behind. “He works a lot of overtime and is taking a computer drafting class.”
She zipped through the rooms, nary a comment, good or bad, about the rest of the house. After the tour, we sat over coffee at the kitchen table. I made her sit with her back to the sliding glass doors so she wouldn’t have extended time to view the landscape-gone-wild thing that was happening in the backyard. The gardening we’d done two years ago had long been abandoned. Bernie had finally calmed and laid at Mom’s feet although her body twitched with anticipation as she watched my mother’s every move, looking for the slightest sign of encouragement. Several minutes after five o’clock, she cocked her head to one side and darted for the front door.
Toby was home. With a flush, I shot from my seat to follow Bernie.
“Hey, babe. How’s your dad?” He greeted me with a kiss at the door before lavishing Bernie’s head and back with an energetic rub down. He looked like he usually did when he came home from work—a fine layer of sawdust shavings flaked the whole of him, the dark blue-pocketed, Delfino Brothers company T-shirt tight across his broad shoulders, and his spicy masculine smell lying beneath the woodsy scent. The sight and smell of him normally made my heart swell, but that emotion evaporated as I imagined how his after-work scruff would color my mother’s first impression of him.
“Dad’s okay, but my mother’s in the kitchen,” I whispered, knotting my fingers together. “Are you ready for this?”
“To meet your mom? Sure. Lead the way.” He offered me his hand, his cockeyed smile reassuring.
I stalled. “It’s kind of a big deal, you meeting her.”
Big deal was an understatement. It was monumental.
The smile faded from his face. “Should I be worried?”
“No. It’s just that you’re the first boyfriend she’s meeting.” I fidgeted under his gaze. “It’s really important to me that she likes you.”
His blue-grey eyes surveyed me, taking in my apprehension. When his lips tightened, I chastised myself for not only opening the door to my insecurities, but for broadcasting them and pulling him down with me. I wished then I could pull them back and keep them to myself.
I drew back the state of calm, collected and in control and squeezed his hand in mine. “It’s not you. It’s just my mother—”
He silenced me with a quick kiss. “Relax. She’ll like me. If she doesn’t, I’ll take off my shirt.”
I barked out a laugh, shook my head, and drew him towards the kitchen. Mom looked up from her cell screen when we entered the room, and I made formal introductions. In what appeared more like standard business protocol than a social gathering, Mom stood and offered her hand.
“I’d give you a hug, ’cept I’m kind of workday grungy.” Toby took her petite hand and sandwiched it between both of his work-roughened ones, and smiling, he focused on her face. “I’m really, really happy to finally meet you, Mrs. —um, I suppose you don’t go by Chiametti anymore?”
The moment fizzled with awkwardness, and thinking my mother was going to leave him hanging, I was about to jump in when she finally answered.
“Not for some time. Call me Heidi,” she said. “Thank you for all you’ve done to help Claudia through her father’s injury.” There was nothing revealing in her body language to tell if she was being sincere or merely polite.
“I haven’t had to do much. Claudia’s a force all of her own. The hospital has her on speed dial. Nothing, and I mean nothing, goes down without her knowing about it.” His teasing belied the pride in his eyes.
Warm with his praise, I leaned into him. “Every patient in the hospital system needs an advocate. The doctor wants to move Dad to a rehabilitation center for a couple of weeks, but I’m trying to get the time reduced.”
“Reduced?” Mom’s brows rose. “Don’t push to get him home sooner than he’s ready. Let him get the care he needs until he can take care of himself.”
This woman was my mother, and yet, for the last five years, I lived on the outskirts of her life. She didn’t know what was best for my father. Or for me.
“He wants to come home. I want him home, too,” I replied with an edge of resentment.
“Why burden yourself? You have classes and your job.” Mom glanced at Toby. “And your relationship.”
Toby put his arm around my shoulders and tethered my composure.
“Whatever Claudia and her father decide, she’s got me and the rest of the Chiametti family behind her. We’ll get the ol’ man up on his feet.”
I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss that endearing face. With my mother watching, though, I only squeezed his bicep and grinned up at my sweet, sawdust-encrusted Prince Charming.
Appearing to accept defeat, Mom shifted to a subject she knew better than us. “Claudia showed me around the house. The bedrooms are small and sorely outdated, but I like the improvements you’ve done so far. Fixer-uppers like this have quick sale potential when marketed to the first-time homeowner. Have you considered selling?”
“This is his family’s house,” I interjected. “He’s not selling it.”
Scratching his head, Toby glanced from me to her. “Well, to be honest, I have been thinking about it.”
I gaped at him. “Since when?”
He reached for my hand. “Since my birthday, when we talked.” The softness in his voice reminded me about his appeal that night to move in together. “I’d like to improve this house, but the property is too small. I want something large enough that I can work on it, a place with wood floors and a fireplace so I can build a mantle.”
A bigger house meant room for more people. Like a family. Did it mean he’d warmed to the idea of getting engaged?
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Mom said, her using her cheerful seller’s voice. “I have several realtor contacts here on Long Island.”
“Will do,” he replied.
Noticing the time, I said, “We should go. We need to get to the hospital in time for visiting hours.”
“I’ll meet you up there after I clean up.” Toby swung a possessive arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.
* * * *
Dad looked haggard and weak when we entered his hospital room. He shifted with a groan to a semi-sitting position in the bed. Knowing my mother was coming, my father’s family had vacated Dad’s room. Mom didn’t have many fans among them.
“Daddy.” I kissed his cheek. “You look better today.”
“Liar.” He frowned and angled his head to see my mother behind me. “Heidi.” My mother’s name fell stiffly from his lips, and with a knot in my stomach, I stepped aside to let them greet each other.
The sight of him, pale and laid out, must’ve fostered my mother’s compassion. She put her hand on Dad’s arm. It was a brief touch, bordering on formal, but she smiled. “Looks like they have you on morphine. How’s the pain?”
“I’m fine. I told the doctor I didn’t need the morphine, but it helps me sleep.”
“What will they prescribe for the long term?” she asked.
“Whatever it is, I’m not taking it,” Dad said.
“Don, you will need to manage your pain at home. There’s no need to be a martyr.” I heard the intonation of contest in Mom’s voice.
Since they’d separated, they could barely speak two civil words to each other. I was ready to insert myself between them and slip back into the familiar-but-uncomfortable role of family diplomat when Toby walked in. Showered and handsome and unaware of the tension between us, he dropped a current issue of Maxim magazine onto my father’s lap. Mom raised her eyebrows at the scantily clad model sprawled suggestively across the cover.
“Hey, Pops,” he said, his greeting casual. “I scored a copy of this in the hospital store. Figured some ‘artistic’ photos like that one might give you some incentive to get you up and moving again.”
My cheeks warmed. My family never talked about stuff like that.
“Thanks for being so concerned about my rehabilitation. I’ll take a look at it later.” Dad slid the magazine under his plastic water pitcher. Despite the blatantly awkward moment, he patted Toby’s arm with quiet appreciation. “How’s work?”
“Great,” Toby said, settling down in the chair aside my father. With the potential for unease between my parents, I was never more grateful for Toby’s congenial personality. His presence added civility to our forced family reunion.
* * * *
I let my mother drop me off at work in the morning, so she could have my car to go shopping and visit the friends she still had on Long Island. At the end of my shift, I was packing up when I heard her voice down the corridor. Liz looked at me.
“That sounds like my mother,” I told her. Sure enough, Mom appeared in the office doorway, a big smile on her face. “Hey, sweetie!”
I introduced the two of them, but Mom was distracted. “Who’s the very attractive man I saw in the hallway, blond, thirtyish, about five-ten?”
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 14
