There’s nothing left. Nothing!
Conflicting emotions churned inside him. More than five years of lies crashed down on him. Everything he’d thought to be true had turned into dust, now whisked away in one clean sweep.
Crystal clear images of Sydney flashed through his mind: the tiny dimple near the corner of her mouth whenever she smiled; leaning against him as she batted her beautiful, blue eyes at him at the pizza parlor; singing her heart out beside him as they prepared breakfast for Bree; scrunching up one side of her face to try to copy his wink; the way she smacked her head, shook it, then said, “Oh, brother”; the concerned look clouding her round features as she gingerly touched his bruised jaw; and when they shared tea at the cabin. The way she propped her little chin on her hand and said with such feeling, “I love you, Poppa.”
His chest throbbed with mingled love and grief. How could that precious little girl not be his?
He squeezed his eyes shut against the well of moisture threatening to break loose.
It can’t be right. It feels wrong.
In his heart, she’d always be his, no matter what the court, or any legal document, or DNA test proved otherwise.
Dragging a free hand over his face, he sucked in a sharp breath. Stabs of pain jabbed at his soul and a steel band constricted around his chest.
In a sense, it reminded him of losing Vinnie, and then Nana. But this was different; he didn’t have Bree for solace.
Something poked his mind and he yanked it to the forefront to examine it. He’d been afraid of getting close to her since the beginning. He’d been afraid of getting all he ever wanted, all he ever cared for: Bree.
Deep down, he sensed that loving her totally and completely would destroy him if he’d ever lost her. Now he knew how true that was.
His future, gray and desolate, yawned in front of him. He had nowhere to turn to, no one to ask advice, and no one to help him sort it all out.
Or did he?
***
With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and the precious locket tucked in the front left pocket of his denim jacket, Nick stood on the sidewalk across from the church. He gazed up at the tall, gold steeple majestically pointing heavenward. Cars whizzed by, kicking up dirt and litter.
He nearly turned around to go back home. But something held him there.
Divine intervention.
Checking both ways, he stepped off the cement walkway, and then headed for salvation. The door creaked as he tugged it open, making him smile in remembrance at the familiar sound that used to put trepidation in him.
Upon entering, the heavy scent of burning candles assaulted him immediately. The suffocating interior didn’t bother him as much as he’d assumed it would. Nor did the stone statues perched on the raised church altar.
The rays of sunshine streaming in through the tall, stained glass windows cast brilliant beams of color across the empty dark wood pews.
From somewhere deep inside him something stirred, seeking solace, seeking answers only He could give.
I’ve come home.
Halting at the last row of seats, Nick automatically knelt and made the sign of the cross. As he rose, he fixated on his one and only destination.
His footsteps resounded in the high ceilinged religious sanctuary, marking his progress down the long, side aisle. With his heart in his throat, Nick opened the door to the confessional booth. The click seemed to slice through the quiet church, jarring the peaceful serenity.
Stepping inside the tiny, cramped cubicle brought back a wealth of memories. Echoes of childhood shame mingled with words of wisdom. A bitter taste flooded his mouth, prompting him to wonder at this foolhardy decision.
What am I doing here?
He made to leave, but something held him back, yanked him back from losing faith once again.
Seating himself gingerly on the wooden seat, Nick said a silent prayer, hoping he’d find the answers here, trusting that there were answers to his pile of problems.
The partition slid open, wood scraping wood. The sound heightened his anxiety. A cold sheen of perspiration bathed his body as he recalled other times, other situations when he’d come to bare his soul.
“Yes.” Father Tom’s soothing voice reached out to him, enveloping him in a certain grace.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…it’s been…well, a long time.”
“Yes, my son. What’s troubling you?”
Nick tried to form the words, but they failed him, sticking in the back of his throat. Deafening stillness reigned, increasing his nervousness. He dragged a hand through his hair.
Blowing out a heavy breath, he hissed, “Heck, Father Tom, it would be a whole lot easier if we could do this over a beer.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” the priest muttered with a great deal of feeling.
Nick chuckled, releasing some of his anxiety. “Ah…what I thought was the truth turns out it wasn’t all along. I’ve been lied to.”
“Well, now. This is obviously either someone you care a great deal about or an issue that deeply concerns you or it wouldn’t trouble you so much. Why don’t you tell me more?”
At a loss, he blurted out, “It’s me, Father Tom, Nick Carletti—”
“I know, son. I’m glad to see you’ve realized God never left you at all, even though you thought he wasn’t there for you when you needed Him the most.”
The wisdom of his words struck Nick in the deepest part of him.
He’d turned his back on God, not vice versa.
Still haunted over what had unfolded a short time ago, he explained, “I’m here because of Bree. She lied to me, to everyone, about who Sydney’s real father is. It wasn’t my son.”
“I know that, too.”
Shock robbed him of his reason. “Did she tell you that?”
The soft chuckle of the priest came through the barrier. “Now, you know if she did, I couldn’t say.” He sighed heavily, and then went on, “I’ve known your family since before you were born. The ones I didn’t personally meet, I saw pictures of. All I had to do was look at the child. Have you ever seen a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, very distinctive blue eyes at that, Carletti? All of you are dark-eyed and dark-haired.”
Wonder filled him at such an easy deduction. “I put it down to Bree’s side of the family.” His cop instincts kicked in. “But you didn’t arrive at this conclusion by yourself, did you? Nana told you. I’d bet everything on it.”
“I can’t tell you that.” The way he bristled confirmed Nick’s assumption.
“Lord, I miss her. I wish she was here to help me.”
“She is. In your heart you know the path you must take.” The cryptic message offered Nick nothing to go on.
“Did she know about Bree and me? Our feelings for each other?” That was the one thing he’d never talked to Nana about. The shame and guilt he heaped on himself kept him from confiding in anyone about Bree.
“She was a wise woman. I always thought she…”
“What, Father Tom?”
“Now, now, it’s only my thoughts, mind you. I can’t divulge anything, you understand?” He cleared his throat. “I think she would have approved of the two of you.”
His answer gave Nick a small measure of comfort in knowing his grandmother’s view of the situation, even if Father Tom couldn’t confirm her confessions on the matter.
As his mind raced with all he’d learned today, Nick began to talk it out his lingering doubts. “She loved Bree and adored Sydney. If Nana did know about Vinnie not being Sydney’s father, she never let on. Why…” He paused, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I’d have never accepted it, because I was so rigid, so judgmental that I couldn’t bring myself to look past the lie itself to the reason why. I wouldn’t have forgiven either Vinnie or Bree. They didn’t deserve that, not from me or anyone else.”
“You’re doing very well, son. Are you sure you need me?”
That brought a smile to Nick’s
face, easing his earlier worries on coming here. “Hang on for a minute, Father, I still have to hash things out, okay?”
“Fine with me.”
“I always put such stock in family ties…”
“Maybe in doing so you excluded others,” the priest pointed out.
Nick nodded. “Legally I’m still bound to Bree. But, to some, it’s just a piece of paper.” A bubble of panic rose to the surface, cutting off his air supply. “Maybe even to her.”
“What about the child, son? How do you feel about her now that you know she’s not a part of you?” he probed gently.
“I love her. I’ll never stop. How could I? I can’t imagine my life without her.”
“Ah…that’s what I like to hear. The greatest lesson of all is loving someone unconditionally no matter where their origins are from or what they have done.”
Nick grimaced. “You should be telling that to the father. He’s a cold, heartless bastard— Ah…forgive me, Father Tom.”
“Sometimes strong words are justified, son.” Nick saw the shadow of the priest enlarge as if the man leaned closer. “Is he really that bad?” he asked conspiratorially.
“Worse.” Renewed rage burst inside Nick. “He hit Bree when he found out about Sydney, and then left her high and dry. He’s the one who’s been behind all those phone calls about Bree. Seems as if his newborn son is defective so he wanted to replace him with a healthy one.” Even saying it felt vile. He thought he could take whatever he wanted and not be accountable. Thank God Bree had kept Sydney safe all these years.
“Oh, my. Is he trying to take the little girl away?” An unmistakable hardness entered Father Tom’s voice and Nick could picture the dark frown marring his brow.
“No, he doesn’t want anything to do with her now that he found out she’s a girl.” What a fool!
A gusty sigh escaped Father Tom. “Thank the Lord for that. And bless that poor, innocent child.”
“Amen to that,” Nick muttered under his breath.
“You’ve told me you still care for the girl, so that doesn’t seem to be a problem. Now, what about the mother?”
His heart clenched. “That’s a touchy subject, Father.”
“Do you love her?”
“From the first time I saw her.” His voice rang with unwavering conviction.
“But?”
Nick tunneled his hands through his hair. “She lied!”
“And why do you suppose she did that, Nick? You just said you have to look past the lie itself to the reason why? Did she do it for selfish reasons?”
“Bree doesn’t have a selfish bone in her entire body.” As he recognized the truth of that statement, he hit upon what had eluded him until now. “She did if for Sydney. She did it to protect her daughter.”
Bree told me that, but I dismissed it too easily.
“In her position would you have done any different, son?”
An image of Vinnie, laughing as a little boy, popped into his head. Suddenly his son was ten. Vinnie curled himself in a ball and cried himself to sleep, thinking his mother hadn’t loved him enough.
“Nick, if you had the chance to do it all over again would you have protected Vinnie any way you could have, even if that meant lying to him?”
Presented with that startling vision, Nick bent his head and confessed, “God, forgive me, but I would. Anything just to take away his pain and suffering.”
The ensuing silence closed in on Nick, on one hand comforting him like a balmy summer’s breeze whisking away the remnants of a storm. And, on the other hand, he sensed the stark bleakness of a world without Bree, the stillness, the loneliness.
“Now that you know you’re human like the rest of us, Nick, don’t you think you need to stop holding this over her head?”
He’d missed the priest’s seldom used, dead-on, no-holds- barred approach to confessions.
Nick knew Father Tom only executed the unique style when he felt the situation warranted such plain talk, when there seemed no other way to reach a person in dire straits. This time it was his turn.
He tried to laugh. It came out raw and strained. “You’re not condoning lying, Bree’s or anyone else’s now, are you, Father?”
“Sometimes you have to follow your heart, instead of the rules, son.”
***
Ten minutes later, Nick got out of his SUV. With hesitant steps, he walked to where Bree sat under a tree in the park, hugging her knees. A wealth of admiration bubbled up inside him.
Bree had such courage, strength, and determination. She’d had so much to overcome in her life. He had no doubt that she’d survive without him. But would he without her?
Childish giggling dragged his attention away from his wife for a moment to see Sydney chasing her best friend around the playground area.
An involuntary smile inched up the corners of his mouth as joy bounced inside him. Lord, he loved that little girl. Nothing would ever change that feeling.
Only a few feet separated Bree and him. A shiver racked her body. Shrugging out of his denim jacket, he went to place it around her trembling shoulders. He stopped, unsure of his reception. “Hello, Bree.”
She whipped her head around, staring wide-eyed at him. “Wh…what are you doing here?” she asked stiffly.
Instinctively, he approached and wrapped his coat snugly about her. “I came to talk, sweetness.”
“But I thought you hated me.”
“Never.” The fierceness of his response must have shocked her; she straightened her back, gripping the corners of his jacket in a white-knuckled grasp.
Her chin quivered and his heart wrenched in his chest. Bittersweet memories of the first day he’d met her rushed back, nearly choking him in the process.
He eased himself to the ground near her. “Do you remember when the justice of the peace was taking pictures right after the ceremony?”
She frowned in obvious confusion. “Yes.”
“You looked so unhappy and your chin quivered like it did just now. He joked about it.”
“I burst into tears and ran from the room, down the hallway, then into…”
“My bedroom,” he finished for her.
“Of all the places I could have gone.” She shook her head. “Your bedroom.”
“I found you there sobbing your heart out. Just seeing you like that felt as if someone had shoved a dagger into me and twisted. That’s how I feel now.” He paused, holding her rapt attention. “I gathered you close.”
A soft sigh escaped her parted lips. “I felt so safe, so secure. Being in your arms seemed so right. Like a place where I belonged.”
“You did. You still do.”
Clearly caught up in the magic of the past, she continued, “You were so kind to me. You wiped away my tears. Your touch was so gentle, so caring.”
“Then I leaned close.”
“I did, too.”
Locking gazes with her, Nick said, “I kissed you. It was the softest, sweetest kiss I’d ever experienced.”
“That’s the first time you ever called me sweetness.”
“And the last, until a few weeks ago. I want the right to keep calling you that.”
Bree gasped as she stared unflinchingly into his dark gaze. Reading a wealth of emotion there, she said, “But…I hurt you. I lied for years.”
“I still hate the fact that you found it necessary to. But I understand it. And I hate that I might never forgive myself for not being accessible enough so you could have come to me to share your burden with someone who would listen, who would offer you some kind of solace, someone you felt you could trust with your secret.”
Wonder, like droplets of rain, washed over her. A slight breeze ruffled his hair and she longed to brush it back. She longed to touch him.
The sandalwood scent captured in the folds of his jacket rose to envelope her and remnants of his body’s heat warmed the coldest regions of her.
Do I dare hope?
“What are you saying, Nick?”
/>
“I’ve been so afraid of being hurt that I kept you away anyway I knew how, only to nearly end up left alone.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re all I ever wanted, sweetness.”
A niggling doubt poked her middle. “Will that be enough? What will happen if I do something you don’t like? Will there always be this danger of having to pass your unspoken tests, and failing miserably?”
She watched as a wave of pain chased across his features. A weight pressed on her chest at what she’d inflicted.
“No more tests, Bree. We’ll live on faith and trust.”
Her breath stuck in her lungs. “Do you mean it?”
He held out his right hand with his little finger extended. “Pinkie promise.”
Looking from his hand to his eyes, she read the utmost sincerity shining there. He’d never make a famous pinkie promise without meaning it. He’d never break his word, his honor.
She linked her baby finger with his, relishing the feel of his skin. “Pinkie promise,” she repeated, confirming the pact.
Hesitantly, she released the hold, hugging her knees once again, unsure of how to proceed with this new and wondrous revelation.
“Don’t look so scared. I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life, sweetness. I can do that one of two ways: Either apart, longing to be with you, but not being able to because I keep putting obstacles in the way; or living with you and showing you every minute of the day just how much I do love you.”
Awe flooded her. But a leftover concern surfaced. “What about Sydney?”
He grinned, that devilish grin that robbed her of her senses. “It’s a package deal. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Could this be for real? “I’m serious, Nick.”
“So am I.”
The object of her conversation with Nick shouted in glee, and then raced to him, flinging herself in his arms. “Oh, Poppa, why didn’t you tell me you were here? I missed you bunches and bunches.”
Bree, holding her breath, watched as Nick cradled her daughter to his chest and deposited a tender kiss on her rosy cheek.
Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) Page 23
