It was getting worse and worse. “What did she want?”
“To talk to you about Anna, but I said you were out of town and that I was house-sitting.”
Naomi smiled, in spite of herself. “Genius.”
“She sounded friendly.”
“That’s the key word: sounded.”
Rig folded his arms. “You called out for her, you know.”
Naomi gaped. “I didn’t.”
“You did. Tell me again what’s wrong with her?”
Sighing, Naomi took another nibble and then rested her wrist on the table, looking down at the access point on the back of her hand. “It’s not like she’s a monster. She doesn’t eat kittens for breakfast, as far as I know. She’s just been so busy worrying about Anna for so long that she didn’t realize she never worried about me.”
“You were the good girl.”
Naomi nodded. “And worse, I was a Daddy’s girl. I’ve played second fiddle in her heart my whole life. She didn’t have to deal with me except every other weekend from the time I was five until I was seventeen. And she liked it that way. She never . . .” She paused. Then she made herself continue. “She never even tried to get to know me.” It was silly, Naomi knew, that this secret truth hurt so much to say out loud.
“And your dad was everything to you. Must have been hard to lose him so young.”
Naomi bit her lip. “Yep.” God, it felt weird to tell him. And what was stranger, she wanted to tell him more. “But it’s okay. Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s fine. Then, the only time in my adult life I get really sick . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she was horrified to feel tears fill her eyes. “Then apparently I cry like a baby for my mama. Go figure.”
There was a small pause. Then Rig said, “I loved my mom. My brother and my dad and me, we worshipped her. It was terrible when she died—none of us knew how to live without her. I guess Jake’s always been the more sensitive one, and I’d always teased him for it, but we had to be there for each other after she died. Sometimes I’d cry harder than he would.” He paused again. “But it seems that even if your mother blew it with you, she did okay by your sister, right? Seems like Anna turned out just fine.” His gaze was open.
“Well, there’s that whole thing where she’s pregnant? Jobless? Itinerant?”
Slapping a red fabric napkin against his leg, Rig said, “So she’s knocked up. She’ll get a baby out of the deal, and that’s always a nice thing. Babies are cool, don’t you think?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “And she has a job, with us. She has a place to stay when you’re not fighting, and when you are, it sounds like she has a second place to stay. Jake seems pretty happy with the whole thing, and apparently Milo loves her. Won’t quit hanging from her arm like a monkey. And I’m sure my dad is fussing over her and making her eat comfort foods like macaroni and cheese and Vienna sausages.”
How did he make it sound so easy? How did he make everything seem so easy? The chair he sat in seemed dwarfed by his long legs, his broad thighs. Thighs that Naomi was remembering snuggling up against. He hadn’t—
No, he hadn’t. She’d know. She would remember that. Looking into his eyes, she saw he knew what she had wondered, and he gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. “I just took care of you,” he said.
“Why?”
Rig’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why? It’s obvious.”
“It’s not.”
“You didn’t have anyone else.”
Chapter Forty
Once you’ve learned the math for a set-in sleeve cap, you can solve the problems of the world. But once you’ve learned it, please share it with me, because a raglan is just so attractive and easy that I’ve never bothered to learn it myself.
—E.C.
The next morning, Rig left Naomi sleeping. She’d asked him to get her knitting needles and a book called Eliza’s Road Not Taken from the living room for her after he’d fed her one scrambled egg, but she hadn’t gotten very far into either knitting or reading. She looked adorable, though, sleeping on her side, the book propped open in front of her, her knitting clutched in her left hand. The food seemed to be staying settled, and Rig left a note saying he’d be back as soon as he could be.
Rig didn’t want to be away from her.
Damn, he was in big trouble.
But forewarned was forearmed, right? A crush was easily dealt with. No big deal. But every time he told himself the no-big-deal line, Rig bumped into something, or stubbed his toe, or dropped his sunglasses.
As he pushed through the door at Tillie’s and found his eyes drawn to the back booth where he’d seen her for the second time, he had to admit that this Naomi thing was seriously messing with his head.
But he could handle it. No big deal. Instantly, he tripped over Elbert’s cane, which had slipped to the ground. He caught himself, hoping no one had seen his windmill.
Shirley greeted him with a grin and a quick peck on the cheek.
“Sit at the counter, honey? Sunday morning’s busy ’round here.”
Rig looked at Naomi’s empty booth. “Can I sit there? If you don’t mind? I’ve got a couple of people meeting me.”
She flapped her hand. “Just opened up. Have at it. I’ll bring you coffee in a second.”
As he eased himself into the crooked booth, Rig thought about how many times Naomi had sat here over the last year. Alone.
He didn’t want her to sit here by herself anymore.
Rig watched Shirley fly around the room, coffeepot in hand whenever she wasn’t carrying plates. Another younger waitress was also working today, but Shirley ran circles around her. He looked out the window, toward the beach. A young redheaded woman wearing a white half apron leaned against the brick wall of the Italian restaurant, watching the low surf and smoking a cigarette. Two skateboarders heading for the boardwalk rolled past her. She grinned and said something to them and they laughed as they skated past.
It was a nice little town. And man, it was different than moving from one platform to another, always a different sick bay, always an offshore medic who thought he knew everything, always a hundred new guys, faces he didn’t know. Here, it was just him and Naomi and Bruno. And now Anna. He admitted to himself that he’d do just about anything to keep Anna working at the office with them after the baby came. Last week, he’d caught Naomi looking at her with pride. She’d probably never admit it, but he knew she loved having her sister so close.
And that was her problem. She’d never admit it. For a woman who felt so much, so deeply, she sure was closed off to her emotions. Or at least that’s what Naomi would have him think. But he’d seen her eyes when Anna had gasped, right after the abortion comment, and even while sick, Naomi’s expression had been stricken. She’d felt that to her core.
And when she’d talked about her mother, those weren’t crocodile tears she’d turned away to hide. They’d been painful and very real. She felt things, especially that distance from her mother. That much was sure.
Getting her to talk about her feelings more, that’s what he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do.
He sipped his coffee and waited, listening to the chatter of the diner as it swirled around him. It sounded like it had his first day in town: Mildred argued with Toots about something related to the upcoming contra dance as Greta knitted quietly and watched both of them. Elbert Romo sat at the counter as an ambassador of goodwill, greeting every person who entered. Officer Moss chatted with Old Bill and kept an eagle eye on the parking meters in front. A firefighter who worked with Rig’s brother nodded to him—Rig had forgotten his name but knew he made a mean lasagna. In the side room just behind his head, Rig could hear the ranchers talking. Cade MacArthur barked a laugh and startled baby Owen into crying. Lucy Bancroft, carrying a stack of magazines to a back table, smiled at him.
It felt so good to be part of it all.
The front door opened, and Anna entered the diner. She was followed by Bruno, and Rig realized they didn’t know each othe
r yet. That was okay. They would. Rig waved. He needed to talk to Anna, but that could wait until he could get her apart from Bruno—later, when they were working, he’d get her by herself.
Bruno sat down heavily across from him. “Iced tea,” he told Shirley, who was pulling up a chair to place in the aisle for Anna.
“Because there’s no way you’re getting that belly behind that table, honey. Milk for you?”
Rig made the introductions, saying, “Anna’s saved us this week, Bruno. I hope you enjoyed your vacation, but thanks for coming in today. I need you both.” As Anna settled herself, pulling as close to the booth as she could, Rig asked her, “How’s it going at Jake’s? Milo terrorizing you?”
“Nah,” said Anna. “He’s sweet. I read to him before he goes to sleep. He’s cuddly then—not so much at other times.”
“Watch out, or my brother’s gonna fall for having a woman in his house.” Rig laughed and waited for Anna to do the same.
She didn’t. She turned pink instead.
Oh, Jesus. “Jake’s not . . . giving you any problems?”
Anna shook her head, smiling down at her lap.
Whoa. Jake, serious about anyone, let alone a woman who was about to have her life turned upside down by an infant—he needed to talk to his brother, the sooner the better.
But right now, he had more pressing things to take care of. “I know it’s Sunday, so thanks, you two, again. We can get a shitload done today.”
Anna pulled the paper napkin from around the silverware and tore off a piece of it. Rolling the paper in her fingers, she said, “I’m still mad at her.”
“I know,” said Rig.
“And really hurt.”
Bruno patted Anna on the shoulder. “It’s big of you to help Rig out, then,” he said.
“It is,” Anna agreed. “Plus, I know it’ll be satisfying to see her face when she hears I helped anyway.”
Rig leaned forward. “Okay, so here’s the deal—” He broke off as he saw his father enter the diner and greet Old Bill at the front.
Well, heck. Frank hadn’t been invited. But he could help if he wanted to, even though he’d probably just end up getting in the way.
Rig raised his hand to gesture his father over, but Frank didn’t see him. Instead, he went directly to the open stool next to Elbert who patted him on the back as he sat. Frank pushed the menu out of his way and turned his mug right side up, ready for coffee.
And then Rig watched in utter stupefaction as Shirley leaned over the counter to kiss his father full on the mouth.
Chapter Forty-one
If you are too sleepy to knit, take a nap. Better, indeed, if you can double your knitting under your head and nap in a puddle of sunlight. Best, if a cat purrs next to you while you snooze. Oh, the joy of life.
—E.C.
Monday morning, Naomi hauled herself into the office. She was feeling more tired than anything else, a deep, bone-level exhaustion, but the pain had lessened now, and she thought she could pull off a half day if she took it slowly.
She sat in her office, the window propped open to let in the summer fog, and logged in to her e-mail. God, even doing that much, just remembering her password and typing it in, felt like a huge task.
Her ears strained to hear Rig’s footsteps in the hallway. She didn’t think he’d been in yet when she arrived, and she hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon when he’d come by for a brief moment. He’d dropped off a container of chicken soup and a box of saltine crackers, saying something about getting back to a project, before he ran off again. He’d asked if she’d be okay without him that night.
He’d sounded like a friend when he asked. A nice guy.
As if he hadn’t spent a whole night last week driving her out of her ever-loving mind with his tongue. As if he hadn’t held her while she was sick, for four nights straight. As if she hadn’t fallen asleep with him kissing her hair and woken to his arms tight around her. There had been times when she hadn’t wanted him to touch her at all—when she was sicker than she’d ever felt before, and just the thought of someone near her made her feel even worse. Those times, he’d gone to sit on her porch, or he’d made a run to the store to bring her something else that might sit easily in her stomach, although nothing had, and when she was ready, he was there again to hold her until the next wave passed.
Naomi clicked blindly through her e-mail. Nothing important, nothing she had to address right now.
She’d have thought she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her like that, sick, weak, at her most unattractive. But she’d wanted Rig there. He’d made things just a little better. And that had been unexpected. And good.
She’d gotten to the point where she could almost admit she’d needed him.
And then she’d gone and blown it all by being impossibly rude to Anna. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to stay yesterday. Maybe he was too disgusted with her, too, like she was with herself.
Anna—would she even come into the office to work today? Was she still staying with Jake? Or somewhere else? Naomi had tried her cell phone, over and over again. But she must still be too furious to even speak to her. Naomi didn’t blame her.
She’d blown it, in the worst way possible.
Naomi sighed and rubbed her eyes.
Work had to help.
Why, then, was she finding it impossible to figure out what to do next?
Across her office, on the chair next to the door, was her knitting basket. She’d brought it to work this morning even though she normally never brought it here. Someone might see it, might guess her silly secret. But today Naomi had needed to keep the shawl close. Her fingers almost ached to have the yarn in her hands. She’d made considerable headway on it while she’d been sick, once she’d been able to sit upright for any length of time without wanting to throw up.
And in the basket next to the shawl was Eliza’s book Silk Road. Knowing it was ridiculous didn’t stop her from checking to see that there was no one outside her door, and then moving to pick the book up, to close her eyes, to jab at the page.
“A mother’s love can be transmitted through stitches—a sweater made by a mother is worth ten of any other kind.”
Damn. Even Eliza was out to get her.
As she lifted her eyes from the page, a voice said, “Sweetheart!”
Her mother stood in her doorway, her stepfather and Bruno behind her. Bruno’s eyes were wide and he mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” at her over their heads.
Her mother was wearing an obviously expensive royal blue silk shirt and black pants that hung perfectly, the cuff breaking at just the right point over her patent-leather black pumps that probably cost more than all of Naomi’s shoes put together. Her eye makeup was flawless, deep plums and soft pinks, the skin around the corners dewy fresh. She’d probably had a little something done.
“Hi, Mom.” Oh, God, now what? Maybelle was going in for the hug, though, so Naomi met her in the middle. Her mother’s arms didn’t feel familiar. It was like suddenly hugging a teller at the bank—foreign and much too intimate.
“Hey there, kid,” said Buzz. He was in a gray suit that looked a little tight, and his hair was more silvery than the last time she’d seen him. His smile looked genuine, and Naomi wondered if she was expected to hug him, too, but instead he held out his hand. Naomi shook it gratefully.
“Wow, Mom.” Naomi leaned on the wall. Standing unsupported was too tiring. “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you.”
“Well, Anna finally left us a message saying she was in this one-horse town,” Maybelle said. “I can’t believe it, the one time I don’t pick up the phone. Buzz knows I always pick up the phone, just on the off chance it’s her. It never is. But that time, of course it was.”
Buzz said, “Your mom just wanted to see her. So we thought we’d make a quick road trip.”
Naomi bit the inside of her lip. They hadn’t come to see her in the year she’d lived in Cypress Hollow. Then she managed, “It’s nice
to see you both.”
Maybelle said, “Where’s Anna? We stopped by your house, but it didn’t seem like anyone was there.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I haven’t seen her in almost ten months, did you know that? That’s too long for a mother to go.”
Naomi just said, “Of course. I’ll track her down and we’ll have dinner tonight.”
“Sweetheart, you’re so pale. Maybe we’ll all go for a makeover later? And where, for dinner?”
At that moment Rig came out of his office—Naomi hadn’t even known he was in yet. How long had he been there? What had he heard?
“Naomi, are we still on for barbecuing at Jake’s tonight?”
Naomi’s mouth dropped open as her mother stepped forward with a hundred-watt smile. “Maybelle Maubert, Naomi’s mother. My husband, Buzz. And you are?”
“Dr. Rig Keller, newest staff member.” He gave Maybelle a knee-numbingly smoldering grin. “You should both come to dinner, too. I know my brother Jake would be glad to meet you, and Anna will be there.”
“You know Anna?” Maybelle brightened ten more watts. “Are you dating her? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She looked over her shoulder at Buzz. “If she was dating a doctor?”
“Mom, they’re not dating.” Naomi felt like she was losing any small hold she’d had on the conversation.
“No. I’m not dating Anna. I’m dating Naomi,” said Rig.
“Oh, holy Helen,” said Naomi. She moved past her mother into the back office where three chairs sat next to the lab work area. “I have to sit down.”
“You’re dating him?” Maybelle sounded thrilled. In a stage whisper, she said to Buzz, “She’s dating a doctor.”
“Mom!” Naomi rubbed her face. “I am a doctor.”
Maybelle blinked. “I know, darling. Of course.”
Had Rig really just told her mother they were dating? When in reality all they’d done was . . . Well, okay. They’d done a lot. Dating. Huh.
And God help her, she wanted so much more. She kept her hands on her cheeks, cooling them, not daring to look the only place she wanted to: at Rig.
Wishes and Stitches Page 24
