by Karina Bliss
Picking up a cucumber, he started dicing it with ruthless efficiency. “He dumped me with Nana Jo a week after my mother died, then spent the next twenty-five years drowning his sorrows. Because let’s face it, wallowing in grief takes precedence over raising your son. So don’t expect me to get sentimental now.”
Joe glanced over, waiting for her to argue with him, but Pip didn’t say a word. Her compassion smothered him like a blanket. He threw down the knife. “I’m going to move back to the hotel for a couple of nights.” He knew he was hurting her—hell, he was hurting himself, but Joe couldn’t stop. “I need some space.”
In the bedroom, he packed his suitcase, throwing everything in as quickly as possible. Pip appeared in the doorway. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
As Joe went to move past her, she barred the door with one slim arm. “Please let me in.”
“I can’t.”
Pip dropped her arm and he left. She listened until the last echo of his footfall on the stairs fell away, and all she could hear was the sizzle of meat in the pan. Her appetite gone, Pip turned off the stove, then stood uncertainly in the kitchen. What the hell had just happened?
Shell-shocked, she wandered over to the couch and sat down, straight-backed, her hands in her lap. They’d made love on this, only twenty-four hours earlier. The phone rang beside her and she dived for it. “Joe?”
“Hi, Pip, it’s Sue.”
She struggled to sound normal. “Hi, Sue. I’m afraid—” no, not afraid “—Joe’s not here right now.”
Maybe he was sitting in his car, regretting his meltdown, too embarrassed to come back. Pip pulled the curtain aside.
“Actually, I’m calling to talk to you. How are things?”
No sign of his BMW. She let the curtain fall. “Great.” Pip wasn’t going to confide in Joe’s best friend. “Listen, I’m really, really sorry about Thanksgiving.” She tried to walk off her growing panic. How could Joe do this to her?
“Don’t worry, I chewed him out about that. What on earth was he thinking, sending you into one of our first family gatherings unprepared? I hope we didn’t ruin his chances with you?”
She couldn’t stop herself. “No, he’s doing that on his own.”
There was a brief silence, then Sue sighed. “I guessed as much. This is awkward, and Joe would kill me, but I have to say it in case you have doubts. He does love you.”
Pip stopped pacing. “Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Sue admitted, “but it’s obvious by the way he reacts to you.”
Did Sue mean the emotional withdrawal, the irrational defensiveness or the running away? A lump came to Pip’s throat. “You know what I miss most about family? The way they champion your cause no matter how badly you behave.”
“That information is for you, Pip. Joe told me you’re still making up your mind, and it might help when you’re weighing your options.”
Except how did you live with a man who hated being in love with you?
“And if you ever want advice or help with babies, call me. None of us start out experts.”
Tears pricked Pip’s eyes. “Thanks for your call.” She hung up and burst into tears. What did it say about her life lately, that a few kind words could reduce her to a blubbering wreck? But she was through pretending that she could cope with any curveball Joe threw her.
Wiping her face with her sleeve, Pip took a deep, sobbing breath, then fetched a box of tissues from the kitchen cupboard and blew her nose hard. It was time to stop wimping out on the truth.
Joe was never going to change.
Every time they came close to a breakthrough he pulled back. And with every withdrawal, Pip’s confidence crumbled under the weight of loving someone who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—love her back. The situation was tearing her up inside, undermining her independence, her self-respect and her equilibrium. Every quality she was going to need in abundance to raise this child.
Tears brimmed, but she blinked them away. She refused to settle for scraps. Well, if she couldn’t beat Joe, she’d join him. From here on in, her only priority was self-preservation.
“I HAVE TO BE HOME by five,” Kaitlin instructed Great-Uncle Sam when she climbed into his Mercedes after school the following Tuesday. Except he’d told her to drop the “Great” from Uncle Sam. She was happy to.
“It would have been a hell of a lot easier to meet at the hospital,” he said impatiently. “Why couldn’t your mom take you?”
“Syphilis.” Kaitlin had worked out her lie beforehand. “She’s at the doctor’s.”
About to pull into traffic, Uncle Sam stalled the car, then got all flustered and red when someone honked at him. He didn’t say a word all the way to Grandpa’s rehab center.
Kaitlin didn’t mind; she didn’t like him very much.
In the corridor outside Grandpa’s room, Uncle Sam stopped. “What I don’t understand is why you need to be here?”
“I’m the negotiator.” Before he could ask any further questions, Kaitlin pushed open the door. “Hi, Grandpa.” She bent to give him a kiss and felt his hand on her hair.
“Hello, Adam,” Uncle Sam said brusquely. “How are you feeling?”
A glint came into Grandpa’s eyes. “How…look?”
Uncle Sam opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Kaitlin and coughed. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “If this is about the solicitor’s letter, you’re wasting your time. I’m not backing off from legal action simply because you’re incapacitated.”
Grandpa nodded to Kaitlin. She cleared her throat. “Do you still want to buy that medal?”
Uncle Sam appeared confused. “My great-grandfather’s Medal of Honor,” she clarified. When he continued to look blank, she added helpfully, “You know, the one you wanted for your medal collection a long time ago because Billy Fraser saved your dad, only Grandpa said no. Way before you knew you were related. He’ll sell it now because he needs the money.”
“Kait!”
“Shouldn’t I have told him that?” Anxiously, Kaitlin slipped her hand in Grandpa’s, but though he squeezed it reassuringly, he kept staring at Uncle Sam.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” Uncle Sam frowned, then straightened his tie. “Of course, it’s hardly surprising you’ve lost any sentimental attachment, given Billy Fraser isn’t your father anymore—”
Grandpa made an angry sound. “Twen…thou.”
“What did he say?”
“Thirty thousand dollars!” Her grandfather’s hand jerked in hers and Kaitlin gave it a warning pinch. Dad always said to start the bidding high.
Uncle Sam snorted. “You obviously haven’t done your homework, Adam.”
“How would he?” she said hotly.
Uncle Sam looked embarrassed. “Aside from the fact that it’s grossly overpriced, there’s another—”
“What’s this, early visitors?” Pushing a meds trolley, Nurse Elaine entered the room. She smiled hello at Kaitlin, who tried not to act guilty. This meeting had been arranged in off-hours so Uncle Sam didn’t run into Dad.
Nurse Elaine turned to him. “I’m afraid only immediate relatives are allowed outside visiting hours.”
Uncle Sam sighed. “We’re related.”
“In that case, I’m happy for you to stay. But I’ll need ten minutes alone with Adam, if you don’t mind.” It wasn’t a request.
“Bossy…one,” Grandpa murmured, and Kaitlin got the giggles.
Nurse Elaine shook her head. “I heard that, Adam.” She winked at Kaitlin.
Outside the room Kaitlin stopped giggling when Uncle Sam narrowed his eyes at her. A crocodile at the zoo had looked at her like that once. “Does your father know about this?”
Kaitlin crossed her fingers behind her back. “Of course he does.”
Uncle Sam pulled out his cell. “What’s his number?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Then I’ll call Directory.”
Uncle Sam started punching in numbers. “Hello? I need—”
Kaitlin grabbed the hem of his jacket. “Dad sold his apartment to pay hospital bills, and Grandpa wants to sell the Medal of Honor and pay it back.”
“Cancel that.” Uncle Sam ended the call.
Kaitlin started to cry. “I told Dad’s secret to Grandpa and now I’ve told Grandpa’s secret to you.”
“Well, crying about it won’t un-tell it,” he said. “Come away from the door before your grandpa hears you.”
Gulping, she followed him down the corridor, where he pulled out a large white handkerchief and ordered her to get cleaned up. “You made a good start in negotiations. Don’t ruin it by turning female on me.”
Kaitlin sniffed. “Yes, I did.”
“Unfortunately, the medal’s not worth half that.” He rubbed his chin. “Does Adam have a plan B if I don’t buy it?”
“We’re gonna put it on eBay.”
“Then prepare to be investigated by the FBI, young lady.”
Kaitlin checked to see if he was joking, but Uncle Sam’s face was very serious.
“In the last few years, U.S gallantry medals have come under the protection of the Stolen Valor Act. Although its primary purpose is to stop people wearing medals they’re not entitled to, it also means gallantry medals can no longer be sold.”
His chest started to puff out and Kaitlin had to swallow a nervous giggle. She’d already noticed Great-Uncle Sam inflated like a rooster whenever he was telling people something. “In fact, it’s a federal offense punishable by fines of up to one hundred thousand dollars and a prison sentence of up to one year.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. Kaitlin lost the urge to giggle. “I don’t think Grandpa knows that.”
“I couldn’t buy it even if I wanted to.”
Kaitlin slid down the wall to sit on the carpet. “You can just give him the money, anyway.”
He snorted. “Thirty thousand dollars…just like that.”
“You have plenty, don’t you?”
“Not by giving it away.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“Half brother. And he’s trying to steal my inheritance.”
“No wonder Auntie Emily doesn’t want to live with you anymore,” Kaitlin said hotly. “You’re so mean.”
“Don’t disrespect your elders, young lady.”
She glowered. Grumpy old grump didn’t scare her.
Then Uncle Sam did a surprising thing. He sat on the floor beside her, using the wall as support when one of his knees clicked. “I want my life back. My wife, my daughter, everything the way it was before Mom’s letter blew it apart.”
“Then start being nice to people,” said Kaitlin, still bristling.
He grunted. “That simple, huh?”
She thought about it, then admitted, “Not for you.”
Uncle Sam barked a laugh. “You remind me of my daughter.” They were silent for a few minutes. “I don’t think Adam would take it, anyway. The old fool has too much pride.”
“He’s not a fool and you’re older than he is!”
“No, I’m a few months younger.” He looked pretty sour about it.
“It must be hard to think you’re oldest and then find out you’re not,” she conceded. Melissa was always trying to be in charge just because her birthday was a week earlier.
“Thank you, Kaitlin,” he said. “You’re the first person in your family to understand that.”
Uncle Sam’s face grew red as he used the wall again to push himself up. He straightened his suit, then reached down a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe there is a way for both of us to get what we want.”
The nurse popped her head into the corridor. “You can come in now.”
“Follow my lead,” said Uncle Sam.
Obediently, Kaitlin trailed him back into the room.
Grandpa looked tired, even though he’d only had to take medicine.
“I’ll give you thirty thousand dollars,” said Uncle Sam, “on two conditions. One, you sign it over as a gift, with that nurse witnessing, and two, you renounce all claim to the Carson necklace.”
Kaitlin decided Uncle Sam was a very clever man, but thought it only fair to point out the flaw in his plan. “But you said the medal wasn’t worth half that.”
Uncle Sam frowned at her. “Sentiment can inflate the market value.”
“You…feel…that…much…?”
“It astonishes me, too, Adam.” Fastening his suit jacket, Uncle Sam said briskly, “My father was one of the men Billy saved that day.”
“Mores…pity…” Grandpa sniffed.
“Well, it’s not just me who wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t,” snapped Uncle Sam. “Now do we have a deal or don’t we?”
“Necklace…back…Jenny.” The two men glared at each other.
“Fine,” said Uncle Sam. “I’ll go back to suing her.”
Dad and Grandpa were only borrowing the necklace, anyway. Kaitlin opened her mouth to remind Grandpa, then closed it. Maybe Uncle Sam wasn’t the cleverest person in the room.
Grandpa gestured to the drawer, and Kaitlin opened it and took out the large velvet box holding the medal. Uncle Sam borrowed some paper from reception and used hospital letterhead and his gold pen to write out all his conditions, then got Grandpa and Nurse Elaine to sign it. “I’m assuming you’re of sound mind,” Uncle Sam grumbled as he wrote out a check to the rehab unit.
Grandpa winked at Kaitlin.
She presented the box to Uncle Sam, who took out the Medal of Honor. The gold star spun on its navy ribbon before he carefully laid it on his palm. He looked at it the same way Grandpa did—like it was very precious.
“You know all about it, right?” she asked. “Around the star is a laurel wreath, and above that is an eagle.” Gently, Kaitlin stroked the bird’s outstretched wings. “And the lady in the middle is Minerva, the Roman goddess of warriors.”
Uncle Sam was staring at her funny. Kaitlin withdrew her hand. “Well, if you collect medals you must know that stuff,” she said awkwardly.
“Did your grandpa teach you all that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Uncle Sam looked over at Grandpa. “Adam, are you sure you want to do this?”
Grandpa’s bony shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Like…said…. Not…my…father.” His voice was croaky; he must have a sore throat.
Uncle Sam repacked the medal, then put the box in his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I forgot that my family wasn’t the only one screwed up by this.”
“Emily…back?”
“No. After the Thanksgiving debacle she filed for divorce.” Uncle Sam cleared his throat. “Your granddaughter suggested I start being nice.”
Grandpa laughed, which made Uncle Sam grumpy again. “Let’s go, young lady. I need to get back to the dealership.”
As they were leaving, Uncle Sam looked over his shoulder like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.
“It’s…okay,” Grandpa said, and Uncle Sam nodded.
On their way out to the car Kaitlin said tentatively, “Grandpa’s dying.”
Uncle Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “Yes.”
She was glad that someone had told her the truth. He opened the car door for her and Kaitlin decided she liked him a little bit. “Um, Uncle Sam, you can drop me off at the end of my street.”
He sighed. “So your mother doesn’t know about this, either?”
“No, sir.” Getting in the car, Kaitlin pulled the seat belt across her lap and grinned. “It’s our secret.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“PIP?” said Adam.
Because each labored word was laden with meaning, Joe had learned to interpret the nuances of his father’s speech. For the first day after Pip’s visit his father’s grunt had meant I like her. She’s wonderful. You’re a lucky man.
Now Adam was concerned. The translation: What’s wrong? Why haven’t you brought her
back to visit me? Why are you so unhappy?
Joe pretended not to hear. Why did his flight-or-fight mechanism kick in every time she got close? And how was he going to manage these feelings so he could live with them? Because if he didn’t, he’d lose Pip and their baby. Two nights of staring at the ceiling of his hotel room hadn’t produced any answers.
In stocking feet, he stood on one of Adam’s two visitors’ chairs, tacking Kaitlin’s homemade Christmas wreath above the door and trying not to knock off any of the precariously glued plastic holly or gold-dusted pinecones.
As long as he concentrated on practical tasks he had a sense of being in control. Glitter floated to the floor. “Hopefully nothing falls off this thing onto someone’s head,” he commented.
He missed Pip with a gut-wrenching ache, but without answers Joe knew he’d only make things worse, not better. And he only had one shot at this. Fortunately, she’d asked for one more night apart.
Jumping off the chair, he surveyed his handiwork. No amount of adjustment would ever make that thing symmetrical. Luckily, it only had to hang for thirteen days. He’d take it down on Boxing Day.
“Kaitlin would have come tonight,” he said, “but she and a few friends are going caroling at the local old folks’ home.” Joe packed away his hammer in the red tool kit he’d brought with him. “For their sake, I hope the seniors are all deaf, because not one of those girls can hold a tune.”
He’d got used to talking to Adam over his father’s three months in rehab. At first it had been small talk: “How ’bout those Giants.” When that ran out Joe had been forced to dig deeper. Adam’s response to a casual childhood memory had led to other recollections. Slowly, he’d filled his father in on the missed years.
Sometimes Joe wondered if he was trying to rub salt into the wound with these stories. He only knew he needed to tell them.
“Pip,” Adam persisted.
“Okay, we had a fight.” Joe brushed glitter off his navy polo shirt and discarded the light sweater tied around his waist. It was always too hot in here. “Nothing serious, but I’ve moved to a hotel for a couple of days to sulk effectively.” Pip had given him this, the self-awareness to mock his failings.
