Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2)

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  The subject was dropped.

  * * * *

  I tugged my tie off and unbuttoned my one good dress shirt, rolled them into a ball and tossed them into the backseat of the Jeep. I pounded the steering wheel. After waiting an hour, the loan officer at the bank had returned to tell me, “I’m sorry Mr. Faye. There’s a matter of your lack of credit history and short time with your current employer.”

  In other words, declined.

  I’d taken the morning off from work for nothing. In a hurry to get on the clock, I changed into my work clothes in the bank’s parking lot. It was cold, and some chick beeped at me, but I was too preoccupied to care.

  I was going to start my own business and get Claudia that ring, but I couldn’t do either without a loan.

  At work, Bones plied me with his dirty jokes all day long, but he couldn’t pull a laugh out of me.

  When we finally called it a day, he followed me out to the Jeep.

  “Come on.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go for a beer. I’m buying.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” I said. I had AutoCAD class. I wasn’t in the mood for that either.

  “Wrong answer, Ace.” He hopped in the passenger seat before I could stop him.

  Over drafts at Black Crows, a small local tavern, we talked about Pace, agreeing that signing the contract with the Mad Monkey might’ve been a mistake.

  Courtesy of Pace, our band name was shortened to YCOG. Nobody knew what the fuck it meant, but I’d given up caring. Since we had started headlining at the Monkey, the camaraderie between the four of us had taken a nosedive. We had stopped writing our own stuff to accommodate Pace’s requests for a larger catalog of covers. The joking banter and easy bond we’d shared over the past year had thinned. All of us were a little more on edge. There was no such thing as winging it and having a good time anymore. It was all about getting it right. Getting it perfect. With our minds focused, the extra rehearsals, and fear that we’d look like fools, the commitment made us better. But at what cost? I’d taken up playing as a way to help me cope with losing Julia, but now it was like we were handcuffed to the Monkey. We were Pace’s bitches. That was the last thing I wanted to be.

  Bones grunted. “He’s got us by the short hairs.”

  “Yeah, and I have more important stuff to worry about than keeping Pace happy.” I took a swig of my beer.

  “I don’t much like the asshat myself, but there’s something up between you and him. Spill it.”

  I twisted my mug from side to side. “We were both involved with the same girl.”

  “At the same time?”

  I shook my head. “She started hanging out with him right after she broke it off with me. I always hated that guy—not just because of her, but because he had no respect for anything or anyone. He acted like the world owed him something, and we were all there for the taking.”

  “Fuck him and the BMW he rode in on.” Bones turned to face me and leaned heavily into the bar top. “That’s not what’s really on your mind, is it? I haven’t seen you so hangdog since before the little woman showed up and hung the moon for you.”

  “She’s pregnant.” The secret leapt from my tongue.

  He sat back and raised his beer. “Congrats, Daddy-O.” Bones clinked his glass to mine and took a slug of beer. The salutation conflicted with his sour expression.

  I tilted my own glass, staring down at the foam-ringed brew. “You have a kid. What’s it like?”

  Bones and his ex-girlfriend had a daughter together. Ashley was five.

  He shifted in his seat. “Be prepared for lots of things to change.”

  “I never wanted kids. I was going to start my own business, flipping houses or something, and once I had nice little nest egg, I’d do some traveling, ya know? Never even been out of the country.” I slanted back in my seat and exhaled slowly. “But the bank won’t give me a loan, and her old man hates me. Wish there was a fucking reset button.”

  “Too late for wishful thinking,” Bones replied. “It ain’t no big thang, Ace. You’ll be like most of us reluctant dads. You’ll learn trial by fire. You get the hang of it after a while.”

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

  “Shit, I’m probably the last guy to give you advice.” He skimmed a hand down the back of his head. “Talk to R.J. or Keith.”

  “No, they’re not like me,” I said.

  “And I am?” He laughed. “I’m flattered, Ace.”

  “Both R.J. and Keith were married a couple years before popping out kids. Yours wasn’t planned. That’s the perspective I want to hear.”

  “Before I say anything, know I love that kid—wouldn’t give her up for the world.” Bones leaned an elbow on the bar top and pointed a finger at me. “You’re gonna love your kid, too, more than you can imagine, but hot damn, littles turn life upside down and inside out. From the moment we brought Ashley home, Stacey changed, and all we ever did was fight. Everything I did became about how I measured up as a father: what time I came home, how much money I made, what I did with my free time. It was a lot of pressure. I mean, I think I got it pretty much figured out now, but at the time, I wasn’t ready for it full on throttle like that. It’s why Stacey and I didn’t make it.”

  If the footing of Claudia’s and my relationship hinged on the way I handled fatherhood, our future didn’t look promising.

  I let my head lull to my right shoulder, staring at the mirrored wall behind the bar, but all I saw were Dylan’s eyes, dilated with fear. The day I’d watched him, he’d taken off, headed for the road, and I’d been so angry with him that when I’d caught him I shook him and yelled. Dylan’s shriek stopped me. I’d felt like a stranger in my skin. I’d behaved exactly as my father would have. It was sobering to know a little kid could drive me to behave in a way I most despised—acting like my father. I was surprised, but I should’ve have been. I had my father’s ill-tempered DNA running through my veins. Nothing would ever change that.

  I looked up at the noisy entrance of a small group of girls.

  “Hey, I know you guys.” A dark haired girl tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re YCCB …or something.”

  Bones guffawed. “Sweetheart, when we’re not playing, we’re just a couple of cranky bastards.”

  She introduced herself as Amy, but I didn’t catch her friends’ names. “We don’t go to the Mad Monkey much anymore unless you guys are playing. The owner is a creep,” she said. “He’s very handsy.”

  Bones and I exchanged glances. Like I needed more reasons to hate on the guy.

  “You girls pull up a chair and join us. We’re celebrating.” Bones motioned for the other girls to come closer and called the bartender for a round of shots.

  Not wanting to look like a pussy, I swallowed my protest.

  “What are we celebrating?” Amy asked.

  Bones slapped my back. “The fucking circle of life.”

  Shots in a dark, seedy pub with strangers was exactly the kind of celebration the regeneration of the Faye name deserved. I remembered the disapproval in El Capitán’s eyes. I’d been tainted in those eyes before, but I’d worked to prove myself. His respect had grown to mean something to me, but in the light of the current situation, I was back, mired in the heavy black tar of self-righteous judgment. There was little chance I’d ever be free of the blackened stains of his opinion. He didn’t think I was capable of taking care of Claudia and the baby.

  As much as I wanted to fight it, it wasn’t hard to see he was right. I was loosely patched together. I had no business being anyone’s father.

  I thought about the whale again. I imagined it had made back into the open waters.

  I hoped it did.

  Chapter 19 • Claudia

  My cousin stacked the dirty dishes on the counter to my left as I lowered a baking dish into the hot soapy sink water, scrubbing at the baked on bits of food. It was Christmas Eve, and the entire Chiametti clan had gathered for our traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes.


  “We missed your young man on Thanksgiving,” Aunt Giana said hugging my shoulders. “I’m glad he’s joining us for this holiday.”

  As tradition after dinner, the women cleared up while the men lingered at the table, talking. Except for Toby. He was off in another part of the house.

  That was okay. At least he was here unlike Thanksgiving when neither my father nor Toby were willing to call a truce, and like the Red Cross, I’d had to cross battle lines to eat turkey with both camps: once with my father’s family and a second time with Toby and Aunt Joan.

  It was only tears and guilt trips that brought the two together inside my house for Christmas. Although we dined together, Toby and my father sat on either ends of the long table and didn’t say a word to each other. No one seemed to notice that Toby barely ate, and as soon as he was able, he escaped with my cousins’ kids, Frank and Paul, the 8-year-old twins, and 11-year old Laurie Ann.

  “Honey, your boy is such a dolly. And so cute.” Aunt Lucy nudged my shoulder while I continued washing dishes.

  “Gorgeous,” my cousin Jeannie said, as she deposited a dirty platter into the soapy water in front of me. “He’s so good with kids, too. The boys have been glued to his side since they got here.”

  “Tell us what the scoop is,” Aunt Giana prompted.

  “What scoop?” I asked, playing naive. I knew exactly where the conversation was headed. I’d watched it play out numerous times over the years with my cousins. Tonight was my turn.

  “He’s the first young man you’ve brought home.” She looked at my other aunt. “Am I right, Lucy? Did you ever think our stuffy brother would allow his baby girl to bring a boy to Christmas dinner?”

  “No, you’re right, Gia. I swear I never thought I’d see the day,” Aunt Lucy chimed in. “This is a big step for our family.”

  Aunt Giana turned back to me. “You know, your cousin Ralph’s wedding was over four years ago—”

  “No. It hasn’t been that long. Has it?” Aunt Lucy interrupted.

  “Yes. Little Christopher is almost three now,” Aunt Giana said, her voice edged with mild impatience, a Chiametti family trait. “As I was saying, before I was interrupted, we’re due for another wedding in the family.”

  Giggly squeals diffused the sisterly squabble, and Toby came into the kitchen, one twin under each arm and Laurie Ann trotting up behind them. The boys were squirming and giggling in Toby’s hold.

  “Claudia, look what I found in the garbage.” He presented the two boys to me. “Someone threw out two perfectly good boys.”

  Young Laurie Ann stared up at Toby with luminous, adoring eyes. I knew exactly how she felt.

  I felt happy and warm in his love for me. Somehow despite the uncertainties, that was more than enough. I inhaled with a sense of enthusiasm. My aunts would soon get their wish for another wedding. My ring would be ready next week. My father only needed to make the announcement.

  “Frank and Paul, perfectly good? Bless you, Toby. No one’s ever called them that.” Jeannie smiled at him. “Boys, go wash up and put your pajamas on. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  Toby lowered the boys to their feet. “Better do what your mom says, guys. Santa’s on his way.” He prodded the boys, and playfully tugging Laurie Ann’s ponytail, left the kitchen with the younger ones in tow.

  A smile stayed on my lips while I drained the sink and set about wiping the counter.

  From over my shoulder in the loudest whisper possible, Aunt Giana said, “Oh, and he likes kids. He has ‘future daddy’ written all over him.”

  Her words made a whorl of pleasure abound in my chest. I’d heard the baby’s heartbeat at my last OB/GYN visit, and I absently laid a hand on my stomach, envisioning Toby happily being twisted around the small, delicate finger of a little girl who shared the same blue-grey eyes.

  “I’ll bet it’d be fun to make babies with him,” Aunt Lucy added.

  “Luciana!” Aunt Giana swatted her sister with the dishtowel.

  Nonplussed, Aunt Lucy caught my shoulders. “Don’t mind your silly aunts, Claudia sweetheart. We all know you’re going to finish school, become a doctor, and have a family when you’re good and ready for it. You’ve really worked hard, and we’re so proud of you.”

  She gave me a quick hug before leaving the kitchen. If I wanted proof that marriages could be successful, I only had to look to my wonderfully effusive aunts and their dotting husbands. Grinning, my gaze followed her only to collide with my father, cane in hand, stooped in the doorway.

  “We leave for church in thirty,” he clipped and turned away. His tone pricked the balloon buoying in my chest, a reminder that, in my current situation, my family’s pride was mislaid.

  I stole a few minutes to wrap a few remaining gifts, and Toby followed me up to my room. With the kids gone, he’d become my shadow.

  “I talked to Eddie yesterday,” I said. “His mother invited him and Ray for Christmas dinner. I guess Diane has a heart after all.”

  “When did you talk to Eddie?” Toby had wandered over to my desk and was inspecting the titles on my bookshelves, his hand on a book.

  “I ran into him in town. I bought him a cup of coffee and a doughnut.”

  “Terrific, you treated him like I treat the homeless guys who sleep on the benches outside the Delfino office,” he snarked.

  “You buy coffee and doughnuts for homeless people? That’s sweet,” I said.

  “They’re guys who are really in a need of a handout as opposed to someone like Eddie who is capable of working and buying his own coffee and doughnuts.” With a huff, he turned to my bookshelf.

  I stared at his back. “Eddie needs someone to talk to, a role model. Maybe you—”

  Toby let out a disgruntled sigh. “He’s probably playing you, getting you to feel sorry for him just to get in your pants.”

  After a night stonewalled by my father, Toby was edgy.

  I rested a hand on my hip. “You think I wouldn’t know if he were doing that?”

  “I’m just saying there’s nothing you like better than rallying for a lost cause, but sometimes your good intentions blind you to the truth.” There was a lot of truth to his statement, but I felt my back go up.

  “I’m definitely a little wiser these days. Thanks in a large part to your teachings ‘o wise one,” I retorted. “Still, I feel bad for Eddie.”

  “Forget about that kid. He won’t amount to much,” he said with a rigid consternation to his voice.

  Every part of me wanted to protest. Along with my good intentions was a strong sense of intuition. It hadn’t taken much prodding to get Eddie to unfold, and I sensed from my short time with him he felt unimportant. It was painfully obvious he needed guidance. I doubted he was getting that from anyone around him, least of all Ray or Diane.

  But it was Christmas. I inhaled, forcing my brewing argument to settle down, saving it for another time. I waved a roll of curling ribbon in surrender and pointed at my desk. “Can you get the tape in the top drawer?”

  En route, he became distracted by the image on my laptop screen. “What’s this?”

  “That’s what our baby looks like right now.” I started to think of it, as her, and her as Bella. I was sure she was a girl, though, I didn’t share that with anyone, not even Toby. Not yet.

  “This thing with the oversized head, curly tails, and arms like fins? That’s not a baby. That’s a gelatinous deep-sea creature.” He stared at the screen, openly disgusted. “I’m glad that thing isn’t growing inside me.”

  “Oh, lord.” I burst out laughing. “That’s why women are responsible for the brunt of procreation. Now how about that tape?”

  “What’s this?” He was distracted once again, only this time by the mish mosh of medals and ribbons I’d thrown into my desk drawer. “Why do you have them stuffed in there?”

  “I’ve been meaning to find a box and stow them out in the garage.” I marched to his side and tried to shut the drawer, but his hands pushed mine away.

/>   He fished through the pile, untangled a gold and blue ribbon, and strung the ribbon over my head. The heavy, molded medallion seated itself against my chest.

  “If these were mine,” he said, “I’d figure out how to accessorize my every day clothes with them.”

  “That’s certainly an interesting idea.” I fingered the medallion as he continued pillaging the drawer.

  He pulled out a framed proclamation with my name penned in bold cursive and set it out on my desk. “I’ve always had the hots for that smart girl.”

  I didn’t want to remind him that the girl who won those awards wouldn’t have given him the time of day, nor would she have found herself pregnant and rushed to the altar. I took off the medallion, tossed it back in the drawer, and then tipped the frame over, face down. It wouldn’t help to reflect on that girl. I had wished her gone.

  And she really was gone. Long gone.

  I took his hand and pulled him back to task. “When the holidays are over, I want to go upstate and meet your brother. We’re engaged now. No more excuses.”

  “Not in the dead of winter.” He sat down on the mattress and watched me wrap the last gift. “It’s a long drive upstate, and you never know what the roads are going to be like up there this time of year.”

  “Okay, March then.” Not wanting to leave it to chance, I took out my phone and opened up the calendar app. “Let’s go the Sunday after my birthday. That’ll give us plenty of time to fill out the visitation forms and get them in.”

  “A trip to prison. Can’t think of a better way to spend your birthday weekend.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

  “It’s my birthday, and that’s what I want.” I patted his knee. “Speaking about what I want, I know you don’t usually go, but late night Christmas Eve Mass with my family is a tradition. They have a full choir, and the music alone is worth it. It’s beautiful. Say you’ll come with us.”

  I craved the serenity and hopefulness typically brought on by the season but had been in short supply the last few weeks. I was certain holding hands amid a choir singing “O Holy Night” would invoke some holiday spirit in us.