Unfortunately, today she wouldn’t get there as early as planned. Her first order of business was to check on Dad. The phone hadn’t rung during the night. She’d tried to convince herself it was because he’d stayed asleep after she’d left his house. Suspicion that her assumption was dead false whispered in her ear like a tiny evil voice. Hoping to ease the tension gripping her neck, she rolled her head from side-to-side. She scrawled a note to Gaby to let her know where to find her. They’d reached a détente last night, but in order for the truce to last, she’d need to tread carefully. At least for a while.
The instant she walked through his front door dread popped up like a daisy, pushing against her heart. Dad sat in his La-Z-Boy recliner in the living room, a scowl on his pasty face. His lips were set in grim determination. For the first time ever, he failed to greet her with a smile.
Mal set her purse on the table closest to the door. Folding her arms over her chest, she met Dad’s bloodshot eyes where pain and remorse vied for space in the murky depths. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“No.” His terse response a clear indication of how much he was hurting.
“Is there coffee? Juice?”
Dad winced as he shook his head. Refusing to allow her frustration to surface, Mal regarded him for a moment, then turned on her heel and headed to the kitchen. He’d follow, or not. But it was up to him.
The kitchen was in shambles. Jesus Christ. What time had he gotten up? Cupboard doors stood open, and the trashcan rested on its side. Dad had gone on the hunt for his hidden stash of booze. The greenish pallor of his face was proof he hadn’t had any hair o’ the dog. She’d found everything last night. Mal righted the can before maliciously slamming every cabinet as she straightened his mess. She hoped his hangover was bad enough to feel each rattle and bang.
Mal jerked the coffee maker to the edge of the counter and spooned grounds into the basket. After adding water, then jabbing the start button, she shoved the machine back from the edge. Grabbing the cast iron skillet from where she’d left it when cleaning last night, she made a point to clang it onto the stove. A sense of gratitude rose over her anger. At least Dad hadn’t burned the joint down while on one of his benders. She’d lost count the number of times she’d found him passed out in the living room while one of the gas outlets on the kitchen stove merrily burned. Suppressing a shudder, she opened the refrigerator and rummaged around. Good, he had eggs and bacon.
After laying six slices of bacon in the skillet, she cracked eggs into a ceramic bowl and whisked them aggressively.
Dad shuffled into the room. The chair screeched across the linoleum floor, then creaked as he lowered himself onto it. “Do you have to make so much noise? My head is about to explode.”
Mal set the bowl aside and drew a deep breath as she reached for a towel. She spun around, leaned against the counter, and wiped her fingers. “I’m making breakfast for you, Dad. It requires a bit of noise.”
“Not as much as you’re making, girlie.” He eyed her suspiciously as he rubbed his forehead. “You’re doing it deliberately.”
She was, and a shadow of shame slithered up her neck. Her action was as calculated as Dad’s decision to drink again. It was beyond the time for a little tough love. Mal retrieved a bottle of generic pain reliever from the drawer next to the sink. She looked at the two she’d shaken into her hand, then glanced at her dad and shook out a third. She took a glass from the dish drainer, filled it with tap water, and crossed to the table. After slapping the tablets and water down on the table next to Dad’s hand, she waited at his side until he crammed the pills between his lips. His hand shook like an aspen leaf in the wind as he lifted the glass to his lips. Mal clenched her fists, fighting the urge to take the glass from his hand and help. No, dammit! He made the mess, he’d have to deal. Behind her, bacon sizzled in the pan; the pleasant aroma filled the air.
Dad swallowed hard, then coughed, pressing his hand against his mouth. “Mal, I—”
“After breakfast, Dad. We have a lot to talk about, but it will keep.”
“No, let me say this, girlie.” He pinned her with a shaky look. “I’ve disappointed you. When you needed me most, all your life, I’ve failed you. Now, you have the burden of taking care of your sister and me. I’m sorry.”
Mal turned her back. The contrition in his voice brought tears to her eyes. She busied herself turning the bacon, blinking furiously, and waited for him to continue.
“Your friend, Gunnar, said some things last night when he was helping me...um...clean up. I’m embarrassed he saw me at my worst.”
“Gunnar never mentioned you’d talked.”
“He’s a good fellow. A man you’d be proud to call friend.”
He was at that. Warm memories of last night were chased away by the realization that she’d been as needy as her dad. Poor Gunnar.
Dad continued. “He told me I risked losing you forever if I didn’t get my affliction under control.”
“Dad, what you have is addiction, not an affliction. Let’s call it what it is. That’s the first step, remember?”
Lifting strips of bacon, she laid them on a paper-towel lined plate. She dumped the eggs into the greasy skillet. The hiss and pop accentuated her dad’s tense silence. She stirred the eggs with a spatula, waiting for him to speak. Tapping the utensil on the edge of the pan, she laid it on the spoon rest before turning.
“You’re right. It is an addiction,” he said. His shoulders slumped. Huffing out a breath, he frowned. “Have I done it? Have I lost you forever?”
“No, Dad. I love you. That’s why I want you to get help. It kills me to see you like this. Embarrassed...sick. Let’s call your sponsor.”
“I’ve already spoken to Ike. Then I called Shade Tree Rehab. They have a bed open. I’ve made arrangements for them to pick me up this morning. I’ll be checking myself in until I get this... get myself under control.”
“Oh.” Relief lightened the cold fear that lurked in the pit of her stomach. She scooped the cooked eggs onto plates then carried them to the table. Returning to the stove, she started cleaning up her mess.
Dad stood, steadied himself. He walked to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup, liberally spooning sugar into the brew. He took a sip and grimaced. His eyes flashed to hers, accusation coloring them darker. Yeah, she’d made it extra strong. She’d need it, too.
“I’m sorry I won’t be around to help with the Valentine’s orders. I hate leaving you in the lurch like this.” He reclaimed his seat. “But I don’t trust myself. Even if I told Red and Molly at the tavern not to serve me regardless of how much I beg, the fellas at the Kwikie Mart don’t have any sense of loyalty to me. The bastards just want my money, and I’d be desperate enough to part with it.”
“I’d rather have you get help now. We can make it without you. Besides, I really don’t want you driving if you can’t control the urge to drink. It wouldn’t be safe for you or anyone sharing the road with you. It will be better this way.”
“Gunnar told me he’d help with deliveries.”
What? Surprised, Mal cast a glance over her shoulder. “When did he tell you that?”
“At three this morning.” He seemed to notice her shock. “You didn’t know he came back here last night? He slept on the couch. Scared the crap out of me when he followed me into the kitchen. We talked.”
Something trembled in her heart, swelling and growing, filling her with happiness. With admiration for a man she’d be content to just call a friend. But the emotion she felt now went beyond mere friendship.
Oh damn! She was falling in love with Gunnar.
She pressed a fist against her breastbone, as if holding the revelation close to her heart. What to do about the kind, wonderful man and how to treat their relationship confounded her. Dropping her chin to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, hell. She was going to go all Scarlett O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.
“I was looking for one of my bottles and cursing you for being so
damned efficient. Girlie, that man held my hand when it shook too much to get a stupid glass of water.” Dad continued, his voice less raspy than it had been. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Sat me down and read me the riot act about how badly I was messing up. Let me tell you...his version of tough love is a helluva lot harsher than yours.”
She slid into the chair across from him. “I’m glad he said something that got through to you.”
“He reminded me of the twelve steps, and I have to jump to number five right now.” Color flashed into his cheeks and ears. “Girlie, I’ve stolen money from you. Took it right out of your purse so I’d have enough to buy booze. I’m sorrier for that, for hurting you, than I am about anything else.”
Dad’s confession cleared up the mystery of her dwindling supply of cash. “Dad, did you take any money out of the cash register?”
“No, I never touched that. I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry, Mal.” His voice broke, and he put his hands over his face.
Reaching her hand across to him, she let it rest on the table between them. A corner of her heart splintered in the face of Dad’s remorse, and guilt quickly when she recalled she had accused Gaby of taking the money. She owed the girl an apology. She waited in silence for Dad to get control of himself.
He drew a shuddering breath, then dropped his hands to his lap. “Gunnar’s promised to help however you need him. Said he’d take care of you for me while I’m gone. Like you’ve ever needed taking care of. That shoe has always been on a different foot, hasn’t it?”
Mal’s laugh sounded bitter to her ears. “You did your best, Dad. We were both confused and hurt when Mom left.”
He lifted his fork to his mouth, the utensil wobbling in mid-air. He paled, then let the flatware clatter onto the plate. “I haven’t heard you call her Mom since you were thirteen.”
“I’ve learned some things about her in the last week. Things I know you were aware of, but for whatever reason, you protected her secrets.”
“It was for the best, girlie.”
“Probably. Thinking she was a cold, hard bitch helped me move on. Stop caring, you know?”
“So what’s changed?”
“You mean besides knowing she didn’t completely abandon me?” Mal paused, considering what had made the difference. “I don’t want to fail Gaby. At first glance, her life seemed wonderful, but she’s had as many problems as I have. It’s like she’s the common denominator. I can help her. I want to help her.”
Dad nodded. “That’s a start. It will be good for you to heal. It will be good for me, too. Harriet’s gone, and I know any chance I had to reconcile with her was lost long ago. It’s time for both of us to let go.”
Mal said nothing. She didn’t need to. Silence, broken only by Dad slurping his coffee, reigned.
He set his cup aside. “I’ll be gone at least a month. I’m sorry, Mal. For all the grief I’ve caused. For all the grief I’ve yet to inflict on you. But you’ll be fine. You have Gunnar and Gaby now. You don’t need me.”
She reached over to lay her hand on top of his shaky, clammy one. “I’ll always need you, Dad. I feel like we’ve turned a corner. Get better. Come back to us healthy. We’ll take it from there.”
* * * *
Mal had parked her butt at her worktable a soon as she’d arrived. Chloe and Gaby were assisting the customers. She glanced up each time the bell over the door tinkled, but immediately returned her focus to the task at hand. Which entailed creating special floral arrangements to fill the scads of orders that continued to arrive.
Checking her phone for new messages had become an exercise in futility. Several new emails but no phone calls. No text messages. No word from Gunnar at all. She shrugged off the threatening melancholy. No time for it today. Saturday mornings were most likely a peak time at a gym. Just like in her line of work. He was probably running his business.
Tapping the icon to place a call, she hesitated, index finger poised over the keypad. She needed to thank Gunnar for going above and beyond helping her dad. By the time the Shady Tree shuttle had arrived, Mal had been thirty minutes behind schedule. The driver had barely backed out of the drive when she’d raced to her car and exceeded the speed limit to get to the shop in time to unlock the door. Not wanting to tempt fate by driving and talking on her cell phone at the same time, she hadn’t tried to call him. Yet.
Arching her back to relieve the stiffness accompanying the hours of perching on the high wooden stool, she put a hand to the small of her back and rubbed circles into her sore muscles.
Gaby’s giggle floated into the back room. Mal smiled. In spite of her little meltdown last night, the girl had been in a surprisingly good mood when she’d arrived for work. She’d even teased about being forced to walk to work uphill in a raging snowstorm. The girl’s laughter continued and grew louder. She barged into the back room. “Mal! Look who’s come to visit.”
Gunnar hovered behind her sister in the doorway. A slow smile pulled the corners of his mouth up, the glow in his eyes illuminating them to the point of a desert sky. Mal’s heart skipped a beat.
“Hi,” he said.
Swallowing hard, Mal smiled back at him. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I come bearing gifts.” He held a cardboard carton from the bagel shop aloft in one hand, a to-go cup in the other.
“You brought me pastry?”
“A dozen bagels.” He grinned. “I couldn’t very well order flowers for a florist, could I?”
Her breath hitched at the deep, quiet caress in his voice. He’d sent flowers to so many other women in the months she’d known him. That he’d found a way to make this special for her tickled a spot under her heart.
“You brought bagels to a florist,” Gaby squealed. “That is so cute. Can I have one? Did you bring cream cheese?”
“Sure, knock yourself out. The store put two kinds in. Say Gaby, there’re plenty there. Why don’t you put them at the front counter and invite customers to help themselves. After you and Chloe get some, of course.” He handed the box to the girl.
Gaby hugged the carton, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Gunnar, I—” She snapped her mouth shut, then opened it and rushed on. “I’m sorry I acted like a spoiled brat last night. I’m not that way at all. Really.”
She cast a desperate look toward Mal who smiled her appreciation. Gaby released a hard breath, as if confession truly had been good for the soul. Mal met Gunnar’s gaze. He cocked an eyebrow up and gave a small shrug.
“Thank you, Gaby. Given the circumstances, your behavior was understandable. So, we’re cool now?”
Gaby’s long blond hair bobbed enthusiastically. “We’re good.”
“Great. Can you give me a minute with your sister?”
Gaby shot a glance toward Mal, the solemn look morphing into something nearer to affection. A gush of delight softened Mal’s heart. The day the attorney had dropped Gaby on her doorstep had altered Mal’s existence. For the first time, she’d begun to take a step toward forgiving Harriet’s abandonment. Mal’s gaze followed Gaby as she gave a little wave and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The knowledge that her mother had moved on to a second family, had another daughter she loved enough to keep, still stung. But Mal believed in second chances. Maybe her mother had, also. Which could explain why she’d entrusted her younger daughter into Mal’s care. Harriet knew what kind of person Mal had become. Probably understood that Malin might not have allowed her mother to intrude back into her life. It was almost a certainty Harriet would never have expected to have her choice of guardians for her much-loved second child come to fruition. Mal grieved for the missed opportunity of knowing the woman her mother had become. Maybe if they’d met again, they could have moved forward. Had some sort relationship. Seeing Harriet through Gaby’s eyes and through the evidence she’d discovered in her late mother’s home had been, well, eye opening.
“Hey, Earth to Malin.” Gunnar d
eposited the coffee cup on the table, then lifted Mal’s chin with his index finger, drawing her gaze to him. “Where’d you go?”
“What? Oh, I was just thinking about how my life has changed in the last week.” She grinned at him. “I was pondering possibilities.”
He dipped his head until his mouth hovered just over hers. The cinnamon of his toothpaste scented the very air she inhaled. His eyes gleamed. “I hope I’m one of those possibilities.” He took the pruning snips from her and set them aside.
She let her fingers drift along his smooth jaw. “Could be. We’ll never know unless you kiss me, though.”
“Your wish”—he feathered his lips over hers—“is my command.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
“Stop talking, Daisy Mae.” He sealed his mouth over hers, cutting off any further words.
She flexed her fingers on the firm muscles shifting under his T-shirt. Nudging her knees apart, Gunnar stepped between them then grasped her hips. He pulled her closer, her bottom balanced on the very edge of the stool. The pulse he’d awakened in her last night pounded to life, swelled up from her very center until her entire body trembled.
Mal strained against him, pressing her breasts into the heat of his chest. She toyed with the bristly short hair at the nape of his neck. Sensation replaced thought. She’d be content to let the kiss go on and on. Gunnar tightened his arms around her back and lifted her from her seat, fitting her along his body. He slipped his tongue past her lips, stroking it over hers.
The door between the shop and the workroom banged open. “Thanks for bringing—” Chloe spoke as she stepped into the back room.
Gunnar hastily set her down, knocking the stool over. As it crashed to the ground, he took two quick steps back.
Chloe’s eyes widened and color flared in her cheeks, a near perfect match for the crimson she’d dyed her hair in honor of Valentine’s Day. “Oh damn. This is why Gaby warned me to stay out.”
Mal was sure her cheeks were as pink as Chloe’s. A quick glance at Gunnar, who kept his back to the door, confirmed his discomfort as well. She dropped her gaze to his hips, then flashed back up to his face as heat grew to a raging inferno in her face. He shoved his hands into his pockets, but there was no hiding the hard ridge behind his zipper.
Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4) Page 17
