“I’m fine with that.”
Michael’s eyes darted away evasively. “She’s also very spiritual, if you catch my drift. Intuitive. Very into nature.”
‘Tree hugger?“
“No, nothing like that. She’s—”
“A witch?” Sean supplied.
Michael’s eyes shot back to his. “Madonn‘, she told you?”
Sean nodded.
“And it doesn’t freak you out?”
Sean shuffled his feet evasively. “I don’t really get it, but if it makes her happy…”
“My sentiments exactly,” said Michael, looking relieved. “Hey, if you can get past the witch stuff, you’re already light-years ahead of most guys. I salute you.”
Sean frowned. “Don’t salute me yet. I brought her to O’Toole’s last week.”
Michael’s mouth fell open. “O’Toole’s? Right around the corner?”
Sean nodded again, more forlorn this time.
“What are you, out of your fucking mind?”
“I know, I know,” Sean muttered.
“Gemma at O’Toole’s is like me rushing Kristie Yamaguchi. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wanted to take her to see some Irish music.”
“Who was playing?”
“DeValera’s Playground.” Sean sighed.
“They’re good. Theresa’s thinking of taking them on as clients. But no way are they up Gemma’s alley.”
“I know that now. She was playing Enya in the store so I just assumed she liked all sorts of Irish music.”
Michael pulled a tortured face. “She loves that stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“All that mystical Celtic crap. And traditional stuff, too.” Michael shook his head despairingly. “I don’t want to scare you, but once, when I was in the store, she was playing bagpipe music. What kind of Italian girl listens to freakin‘ bagpipes? I told her it was giving me a headache and she just ignored me. She marches to the sound of her own drummer.”
“Yeah, she does,” Sean agreed. Which is kind of why I like her. “Do you think she’d like it if I took her to hear traditional music?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Any other suggestions?”
Michael thought. “I think she’d like it if you cooked for her or something like that. She’s kind of a homebody, you know? Likes quiet stuff.” His hand shot out to clutch Sean’s arm. “Don’t ever get in a car with her, though. The woman can’t drive to save her life.”
Sean patted Michael on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Mike.”
“No problem. I’ll have some tickets put aside for you for tonight. Four okay?”
“Four’s great. Thanks again,” Sean repeated, starting down the hall. An idea was beginning to coalesce in his mind about what he could do to make Gemma feel excited about him again. It was a little offbeat, but so was she.
Besides, what did he have to lose?
———
“You were at O’Toole’s? You?” The incredulity in Frankie’s voice made Gemma want to yank off the hat she’d been wearing to cover her imaginary baldness and wing it to the kitchen floor. Gemma knew she wasn’t ultrahip, but she wasn’t a total geek, either. At least she didn’t think she was.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you’re—you. You don’t go to places like that.”
“Yes, and if you’d been there Saturday night, you’d know why.”
“Who was playing?” Frankie asked as she rucked in to her pasta.
“The Devil’s Schoolyard. Something like that.”
Frankie’s fork halted in midair. “Do you mean deValera’s Playground?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh my GOD! They’re one of the hottest up-and-coming bands in New York! They’re right on the verge of breaking out!”
Gemma filled her plate with salad. “That’s nice.”
“Were they great?”
“Frankie, they were awful. When Sean said we were going to hear Irish music, I expected to hear Irish music. Not screaming electric guitars and bongos.”
“They’re very eclectic. Big on the Afro-Celt scene. Did they do that rap song, ‘Homey’s Tipperary Crib’?”
Gemma took a sip of wine. “I think so. I’m not sure.”
“Dinner’s great,” Frankie raved. “Thanks for inviting me.” Helping herself to some garlic bread, she continued regarding Gemma with disbelief. “I can’t believe you didn’t like deValera’s Playground. You need to expand your musical horizons, senorita.”
“My horizons are wide enough, thank you very much.” Recalling the evening made her melancholy. “Honestly, the night just went from bad to worse. What worries me is Sean thought it was fun.”
“The world would be pretty damn boring if everyone liked the same thing, don’t you think?”
Gemma paused to consider. “You’re right. But”—she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tucking her right leg beneath her—“what if his idea of fun and mine don’t gel? I mean, I’m getting the idea that we move in…”
Gemma halted. A keening was coming from the street below.
“What the hell is that?” asked Frankie.
“Got me.”
Both paused, listening for more. Gradually the sound began taking shape.
Bagpipes.
Intrigued, they ran to the bank of windows in Gemma’s living room looking out on Fifty-ninth Street. There, on the sidewalk below, was Sean. With him were four bagpipers. Gemma recognized their bright red tunics and green-and-blue tartans from every photo she’d ever seen of a New York firefighter’s funeral. They had to be members of the FDNY’s Pipe and Drum Band.
“Oh my God,” Gemma murmured to herself as they continued the lilting tune they were playing. Spotting her, Sean began waving like a lunatic.
Frankie turned to Gemma in alarm. “You know that guy?”
“That’s Sean.”
Frankie pressed her nose up against the glass for a better look, knocking her hat off her forehead. “He’s hot, honey.”
“Apparently he’s also insane.”
“He’s motioning for you to open the window.”
Gemma opened the window and leaned outside.
“Better than Saturday night, isn’t it?” Sean yelled up to her over the din of the pipes.
“You’re a madman!” she shouted back down to him, affection creeping into her voice.
“He’s adorable,” Frankie noted again with envy. “Not to mention creative.”
But Gemma wasn’t listening. Her mind was a-swirl with questions. How much was this costing him? How did he know she’d be home from work? How did he know she would like this?
Under any other circumstances, the thought of someone publicly serenading her might have embarrassed her. But this was different. This was extraordinary. Gemma closed her eyes, letting the haunting sounds of the pipes wash over her. She pictured herself surrounded by fields of green, golden sun pouring down on her face. And there, standing on a distant hillside beaming at her, was Sean.
“Care to come down?” his voice called up to her.
Gemma opened her eyes and turned to Frankie. “Do you think I should?”
“If you don’t, I will. This guy’s unbelievable!”
Gemma was inclined to agree. “I’m on my way,” she shouted.
By now, a small crowd had gathered around Sean and the pipers, and traffic had slowed. People were hanging out the windows of surrounding apartment buildings, listening. Gemma made her way to Sean. The pipers had launched into “Danny Boy.”
Sean’s eyes danced with delight as Gemma joined him. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re out of your mind. How much did this cost you?”
“Not much. A small donation.” He pointed to the piper closest to him. “This is my brother-in-law, Tom.” Tom gave a small wave. “He was helpful in putting this together.” Sean took Gemma’s elbow and steered her a few feet away from the
four musicians, the better to talk. “There. Now we don’t have to yell.”
Boyish uncertainty took hold of Sean’s face. “I know you didn’t have the best time Saturday night. I wanted to make it up to you.”
Tenderness swept through Gemma. “You sure like to do things in a big way, don’t you?” She smiled. “Suppose I hated bagpipe music?”
“I happen to know you don’t.”
“Oh?” Gemma playfully cocked her hip. “And how’s that?”
“A certain hockey player told me.”
Gemma couldn’t hide her surprise. “This was Michael’s idea?”
“No, this was my idea. But I thought I’d check first with someone who knew you well to find out your likes and dislikes.”
“Uh-oh. What else did Michael say?” She knew what a wise-ass her cousin was. He probably told Sean she howled naked beneath the moon for fun or liked to spend Saturday nights growing mold specimens.
“He said you were kind of a homebody. Quiet. That you would probably like it if we stayed in and I cooked you dinner.”
Gemma flushed with pleasure. “True.”
“Good. Because here’s what I was thinking.” He came in closer, and Gemma’s heart nearly burst right out of her chest. God, if only she could run her hands all over him right there on the sidewalk.
“Remember I told you I had a buddy in Long Beach who lets me use his apartment sometimes?” Gemma nodded. “Well, he’s going away next weekend. And I thought—if it appealed to you, no pressure—we could spend the weekend there. We could take walks on the beach, I could cook for you, we could do other things…”
“Other things?” Gemma repeated softly, touching his arm.
“Well, yeah.” Sean looked encouraged. “Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” The mere thought of getting out of the city for a few days made Gemma feel happy. “I’ll just have to check with my part-timer to make sure she can cover the store.” She clasped her hands together excitedly. “I’ve never stayed at the beach off-season!”
“You’ll love it. Especially now that the summer crowds have left.”
“I can’t wait. We can take my car, if you want.”
“No, that’s okay,” Sean said quickly. “I’ll drive.” He said it so fast suspicion gripped Gemma, but she shrugged it off. “Fine with me.”
The sound of the bagpipes faded away. Sean’s brother-in-law lowered the instrument from his lips. “Need us to play anymore, Sean?”
Sean’s gaze lit on Gemma, and held. “No, thanks, Tommy. I think you’ve done the trick.”
———
Pristine white sand… endless blue horizon… wind kissing your face…
“I can see why you like to come here off-season,” Gemma told Sean as they walked along the shoreline.
Sean gave her hand an appreciative squeeze. “After Labor Day weekend, it’s like a switch gets thrown. All of a sudden, the crowds are gone, and Long Beach is just the locals and the birds.”
Gemma followed his gaze, taking in the wide wooden boardwalk that seemed to go on for miles. A jogger made his way past the line of benches looking out to sea, while the center bike lane boasted an elderly couple cycling at a leisurely pace. A few feet beyond them, a young mother pushed a blond baby in a stroller, the infant blinking helplessly against the sun. Gemma turned her gaze back to the ocean. Lifting binoculars to her eyes, she zeroed in on a brown bird floating serenely on the waves, its bill tilted slightly upward.
“Do you know what kind of bird that is?”
Sean peered through her binoculars. “Common loon.”
Gemma looked up into his face, so handsome in profile as he continued to study the sky. “I didn’t know you knew so much about birds.”
“It comes from goofing off in school,” he confessed. “I was always looking out the window when I should have been paying attention. My teacher finally wised up, and had me write a report on all the different kinds of birds I saw. I guess the info stuck.”
“Funny what sticks and what doesn’t,” Gemma mused. “Ask me who attended the First Continental Congress and I couldn’t tell you. But ask me about George Clooney and I can rattle off facts faster than a machine gun.”
They both laughed. Gemma felt a sweetness filter through her system.
They continued down the shoreline in perfect, contented silence. Gemma pondered the lonesome cry of the gulls as they wheeled overheard, their movements looking almost choreographed. She inhaled deeply; the salt tang in the crisp fall air had a revivifying effect.
“You grew up near here?”
Sean nodded. “About ten minutes away.”
“How wonderful, to be able to go to the beach anytime you wanted.”
“It was pretty great, I won’t lie.” His arm stole around her shoulders. “You said you have relatives here on Long Island?”
“My cousin Paul in Commack. Everyone else is still in Brooklyn.”
“Yeah, I meant to ask you about that.” His expression was curious. “How come you didn’t talk to your mom at the christening party?”
Gemma felt a small quickening in her chest. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I noticed everything about you that day.”
“I’m flattered.” She felt safe with his arm around her— safe enough to talk about what was, for her, a very painful subject “My mom and I don’t get along. I’m an only child, and I guess I’ve failed to live up to her expectations.”
“How? You’re smart; you run your own business.”
“In my mom’s eyes I’m just plain weird.”
“What did she expect from you?” He sounded indignant.
“A mother-daughter house in Bensonhurst and at least three grandchildren. So far I’ve failed to deliver.”
Sean stopped, drawing her into his arms. “She’s crazy,” he murmured, pushing her wind-whipped hair from her face. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
He lowered his head, lips meeting hers perfectly. His tongue playfully danced along her lips, and then it was inside her mouth, blood pounding in Gemma’s ears as Sean crushed her to him. Thank you for this man, she thought. I never thought I could be so lucky.
“Ever make love on a beach?” Gemma whispered slyly.
Sean drew back. “It’s the middle of the day!”
“I’m not talking about now! I’m talking sometime.”
He kissed her forehead. “Someday. I promise.” He took her hand and they resumed walking along the shore. Then Sean stopped. “Wait—have you ever made love on a beach?”
Gemma grinned mischievously. “You really want to go down that road?”
“Nope. Besides, there’s no need to. I’m the first and only man you’ve ever been with. The end.”
Gemma laughed and they ambled on in silence for a few minutes more. She loved that they could just be quiet together.
“Do you get along with your folks?” she finally asked.
“Yeah,” Sean said without hesitation. “I’m a lot like my dad—a chip off the old adrenaline junkie block.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Most firefighters are adrenaline junkies, not that they’ll admit it. There’s a certain feeling you get when you climb on the truck and head off to a situation where you don’t know exactly what’s waiting for you. It’s a total rush.”
“And what if what’s waiting for you is a life-and-death situation?”
Sean shrugged. “You deal with it.”
“Isn’t it scary?”
Sean kicked up a spray of sand. “Sometimes. Usually there isn’t enough time to think about it.”
Gemma swallowed nervously. The thought of him rushing into burning buildings—of saying goodbye to him before he left for work and the possibility that he might not come home again—overwhelmed her. Just picturing it made her feel queasy. She pushed it from her mind. Far off in the distance, a gray cloud stole onto the horizon, marring the azure perfection of the sky. Gemma clutched Sean’s hand and pressed it to
her lips. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.
———
“I have an idea. ”
Gemma’s ears perked up as she watched Sean at the stove, flipping pancakes. Last night, he’d made her a delicious portobello mushroom quiche and salad, followed by the most exquisite Scottish shortbread she’d ever tasted. They’d spent the evening relaxing, reading, and making love. Gemma thought that if she could fall asleep to the soothing, steady rhythm of the waves every night, she’d never suffer insomnia again. Of course, having Sean’s body to spoon with and keep her warm hadn’t hurt either.
Wrapping her robe tighter against the ocean chill, she approached him. “What’s that?”
“How about we pop over to my folks’ house this afternoon and say hi?”
“Your folks?” Meet his parents? Now? So soon?
“Yeah. Sunday’s the day my mom makes a big roast and my sisters and their families come over. I think it would be fun.”
Gemma didn’t quite know what to say. She was flattered Sean thought her “family worthy.” It meant he thought their relationship had real potential.
Sean looked bemused as he slid two more perfectly done pancakes on a plate and poured more batter on the grill. “What? Are you nervous?”
“Of course! I want to make a good impression.”
He ruffled her hair, kissing the top of her head. “You will.”
Gemma’s mind went into overdrive. “Is there a florist around here? Should I bring flowers? I can’t show up empty-handed.”
“Relax! Yes, there’s a florist. We’ll stop off before we go to my folks.” Hope flickered in his eyes. “Is that a yes, then?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Gemma chirped happily. “I’d love to meet your family.”
———
Sean’s family lived two towns over in Oceanside. Gemma was so nervous she couldn’t speak on the short drive over. Instead, she contented herself with looking out the window, taking in the scenery, and trying to imagine what it was like for Sean to grow up here.
“This is it,” Sean announced after a few minutes, turning onto a leafy cul-de-sac. Gemma watched as Sean waved to a man washing his Lexus in the driveway; the man squinted to recognize Sean, then waved back. Sean slowed in front of a split-level with maroon shutters and white trim. The driveway was filled with three mini vans. One had an image of the Twin Towers painted on the rear window, and beneath it the words FDNY FINAL CALL/9-1 1-01/FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS.“
Total Rush Page 9
