by Lyn Cote
“It’s all right. You have a nice family.”
“Most people think so.” He started the car and drove into the deep twilight.
Connie chuckled softly.
The sound danced through him. What am I going to do with you, Connie?
Too soon, he was in front of her condo. Without a word, he got out and escorted her to her door.
They stood facing each other on her front step. Moments passed. She didn’t make a move to go in. He didn’t turn to go to his car.
He opened his arms and she walked into them. He held her close, letting the sensation of having her so near sink deep inside his consciousness, gentle summer rain on his parched heart. Holding her felt so right.
She lifted her head as if asking for a kiss.
He bent and covered her soft mouth with his.
She responded to his caress. Breath fluttered from her, warming his face. He kissed her again, deepening and savoring the feeling, the taste of her.
He lifted his face from hers to look at her. “You’re letting me kiss you.”
“Yes. You’re kissing me.”
“After all, why shouldn’t we?” he asked. A thousand reasons flocked together in his mind. He shut the door on them all.
“Why shouldn’t we?” she repeated.
“Let’s not think about that now,” he urged, holding reality at bay.
“I’m tired of thinking,” she agreed. She initiated another kiss. Her soft lips moving under his.
Only one thought came through his mind clearly—Thank You, God.
Chapter Twelve
Late on a Sunday afternoon, Connie stood near the cluster of Rand’s family, including a blushing Sheila at Chuck’s side. All dressed in their Sunday best, they’d gathered in the small chapel off the large sanctuary. A stained-glass window picturing Christ’s own baptism and the white dove from heaven took up most of one wall. The bright blue-and-red glass gleamed in the summer sunlight, glimmering over the white walls and aged oak floor.
Connie had passed his family’s church many times in Taperville. It was one of the original churches—a large two-story red brick, imposing and solid—in the old part of the little town which over the past decade had finally succumbed to Chicago’s urban sprawl.
She’d tried to get out of coming, but Rand had explained that she’d get more attention from his “helpful” family if she didn’t show. They would all want to know why. She had capitulated and now tried to make herself as inconspicuous as she could. In an attempt to be a chameleon, she’d worn an off-white summer sheath, matching low heel pumps and no jewelry. She stood with her arms at her sides, a half step behind Rand.
In a dark, well-cut suit, Rand stood protectively close to her, his shoulder against hers. Over a week had passed since Troy’s phone call, a period of upheaval. His nearness had become such a solace to her. They’d spent each evening together. Rand surreptitiously enclosed her hand in his.
His rough palm warmed her cold hand. She couldn’t help it. Her low spirits lifted. She and Rand had been together some part of every day since Troy’s phone call. What’s going on with Rand and me, Lord? We never talk about it. It’s just…we need to be near each other. Would their relationship vanish if they talked about it? Did they have a relationship?
The minister, wearing his white and gold-trimmed Sunday vestments, cleared his throat.
Connie turned her dark thoughts to the bright occasion at hand. Molly cradled and cooed to her infant son while her husband Larry held their two-year-old daughter. The little family couldn’t have looked happier if they’d tried. A real Kodak moment.
“I think we can begin now.” After a brief prayer, the pastor lifted his open black leather Bible and began to read: “‘Some people brought children to Jesus to place His hands on them, but the disciples scolded the people.
“‘When Jesus noticed this, He was angry and said to His disciples, “Let the children come to Me, and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I assure you that whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Then Jesus took the children in His arms, placed hands on each of them, and blessed them.’”
The pastor looked up and smiled. “That is why Christ told Nicodemus, ‘You must be born again.’ We must put away our scornful worldly wisdom if we are to see with the eyes of faith, to see clearly God’s love for us in this dark, wicked age. Today, through faith, we believe that Jesus is here with us and He is blessing—with light and life—this little child who has been brought to Him. Who are the godparents?”
One of Rand’s younger sisters and her husband stepped forward. “We are Jackson Trevor’s godparents.”
The pastor spent a few moments impressing upon the young couple the responsibilities that a godparent assumes. They both gave their assurances that they were aware of the duties and were committed to fulfilling them.
Then the pastor took little Jackson Trevor into his arms and said a prayer. From the baptismal font, he poured a trickle of water over the baby’s head and intoned, “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I baptize thee, Jackson Trevor, into Christ Jesus, our Lord and Savior.”
The baby opened his eyes and gave the pastor a pointed how-dare-you look. The O’Neill family laughed and “awwed” over the baby just like at the nursery window. The solemn moment gave way to joy.
Rand gripped Connie’s hand more tightly in his. She returned the reassuring pressure and blinked away tears. Was she crying over this touching occasion? Or over the past or was it her future? She felt shame that she was making herself the focus of what had happened to Annie and Troy. I know it isn’t about me, Lord. But I care so much. I hurt so much….
The baptism accomplished, digital cameras appeared in numerous hands. Connie and Rand fled, as of one accord, to the rear fringe of the family. Chuck held Sheila in the thick of things and she blushed through many photos. Holding hands, Connie and Rand watched the flurried activity but managed not to draw anyone’s attention.
“Rand,” Dorcas called finally, “bring Connie over here for a photo. We’re about done. But I want the two of you holding Jackson Trevor.”
Her pulse zooming, Connie pulled away from Rand and stepped backward farther into the afternoon shadows near the door. “No, sorry, I—”
“Don’t be camera-shy,” Dorcas insisted. “It will only sting a little.”
“Ha, ha,” Rand replied. “Connie and I aren’t ready to appear together digitally—as yet.”
Dorcas frowned and shook her head. She turned away and then swung back and snapped a photo of them. “Gotcha!”
Connie’s face flamed. She opened her mouth, ready to babble something like, “We’re just friends.” But wisely, she closed her mouth without speaking.
Rand rubbed her back in a comforting way. “I’m hungry,” he said in a loud voice. “Haven’t you tortured little Jackson Trevor enough by now? He’s been passed around so many times he must feel like a football in the final quarter of play.”
Connie sighed silently. She appreciated Rand’s take-charge use of humor. She liked his family, but every time they saw her with Rand they tried to make Rand and her into a couple. At some level, she sensed she didn’t understand or want to explore, it saddened her that they weren’t really a couple. I just need to be near him now. I can’t say it any other way.
As Rand escorted Connie out the side door of the church into the sleepy hot Sunday afternoon, he wished his family would lay off. Couldn’t he and Connie just enjoy being together without everyone making it such a big deal? He could answer that. Of course, they couldn’t. His family naturally behaved as though he and Connie were engaged. We aren’t even formally dating.
Once more his conscience stung him. You’ve spent every evening together since that drive into Chicago over Troy’s phone call. If you’re not dating, what are you doing?
I’m spending time with a woman who makes me feel…quiet, peaceful…renewed. He heard the pastor’s voice again—�
��I assure you that whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Why had that come to mind?
The post-christening party—complete with good food, delicious cake and lots of O’Neill laughter—was still going strong at Rand’s parents’ home when Rand drew Connie outside into the deep lavender twilight. “Let’s leave.”
She looked up at him. He saw the relief in her brown eyes. “I should say goodbye to your parents and thank them—”
“They’ll just try to take another photo of us. Let’s go. I’ll make amends later.”
Fingering his collar, straightening it unnecessarily, Connie looked at him and then nodded. “Okay.”
He caught her hand and would have kissed it, but stopped himself. They were too exposed here. Too many eyes longed to see any exchange of affection between Connie and him.
He led her outside and then around the garage to his car. After a quiet ride to Connie’s condo, he parked in the drive and got out and followed her.
“It’s been a lovely day,” Connie offered as she approached her door.
Would she ask him in?
She unlocked the door, walked in and held the door open for him to follow her.
Silent relief sighed through him. She was granting him a few more prized minutes of her company. He realized he’d come to live from one interlude with her to the next. Everything else in his life was mere static. He took off his sports jacket and put it on the back of one of the kitchen stools at the bar. “Ah.”
She smiled at him. “I want to get out of my stockings and these heels.” She shuffled up her stairs.
Connie’s condo still smelled of new carpeting and drywall. He liked the semi-decorated look of it. Connie’s life had just begun. She hadn’t had time to fill it up. He’d lived almost fifteen years longer and was tired of much of what cluttered his life. Too much past…
Shutting down this avenue of thought, Rand walked over and opened the slider to her patio. Another storm had gone through last night and leached all the humidity out of the summer air. He stood gazing at the row of condos behind Connie’s with their high-fenced patios. Voices and snatches of music floated on the breeze.
Connie came up behind him. She’d changed into a long casual blue plaid cotton dress and her feet were bare. “A lovely evening.”
As though he’d been doing it for years, he turned and took her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her subtle fragrance.
She kissed his forehead as if bestowing a benediction and lifted her fingers through his hair. He shuddered at her gentle touch.
Then she drew him back inside to her love seat where she relaxed against him and he put his arm around her shoulders. With his palm, he turned her face toward him and kissed her lips. She kissed him back, her lips caressing his, and then she pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder. They gazed out as night crept in. Patio lights flickered on one by one and fireflies glimmered on and off.
This was the way they had spent the end of each evening together. Just a peaceful time of being together, neither pushing to speak or move the relationship to another level. It was enough to just be together, enough just to hold the warmth and softness of her in his arms.
Did she expect him to say anything? Did she expect him to tell her how he felt about her? How do I feel about you, Connie? The answer came immediately—I can’t let you go.
He tried to make sense of what he was feeling, what he should say. “Connie, I—”
Her phone rang, shattering their tranquility. As though she dreaded responding to it, Connie hesitated, arching against him, her head turned toward the phone. But when the answering machine picked up, Gracie’s voice came loud and clear in the silent room. “Connie, if you’re there, pick up. They’ve found Troy! They’re taking him to Cook County hospital.”
Connie shot up and raced to the phone. “Gracie! I’m here.”
“Come, we need you. Come. Please.” Gracie was weeping.
“What happened to him?”
“They didn’t tell us. We’re leaving now.” Gracie moaned.
“We’ll be right there.” Connie turned.
But Rand had shut the patio door and was already donning his sports coat. “Let’s go.”
Rand and Connie hurried into the busy E.R. It smelled of strong disinfectant. Keeping Connie close to his side, Rand showed his badge to the receptionist. “We’re here about Troy Nielsen. I’ve been working his missing person’s case.” The receptionist motioned them down the corridor to their right. They followed her directions and stepped to the hall outside an examining area.
The knot of horror-struck family—Annie, Gracie and Jack—were clustered there. Beyond them, a doctor and nurse hovered over an obviously homeless man who lay on the examining table.
“Troy,” Connie gasped, bumping into Rand’s shoulder.
A police officer, standing at the opening, moved forward to stop Connie from intruding. Rand flashed his badge. He offered the cop one of his hands and with the other took hold of Connie’s elbow. “I’ve been handling Troy Nielsen’s missing person’s case. What’s happened?”
“I’m a patrol officer on the south side.” The cop was older than Rand and rugged looking. “I was making my rounds when I heard sounds of a fight, or maybe a beating would be a better description. My partner and I sped up the alley and surprised three perps beating the…the stuffing out of this guy. When they saw our car, they scattered. But I’ve seen them before. They’re enforcers for a couple of loan sharks.” He nodded toward the bed. “Looks like he missed a payment or two.”
Rand watched Connie absorb this as if it had been a physical blow. He firmed his grip on her arm. “How is Nielsen?”
The doctor turned to answer Rand. “He’s a mess, but nothing life-threatening. Just multiple lacerations and contusions. I don’t think he’s suffered a concussion or any internal injuries apart from a few cracked or bruised ribs. I will do a few X rays just to be sure. But if those are all right, he can go home and get a shower and a meal. He looks like he needs both badly.”
Rand scanned the group in the hall. All appeared to be in the throes of horror and shock. Connie stood beside him paralyzed. He ached with the disagreeable sensation of being proved right when he’d have rather been wrong.
“I’ll need Nielsen,” the cop spoke up, “to answer some questions when he’s able to talk and if he wants to get the ones who did this to him, he’ll have to come down and press charges. We’ll need descriptions, too.”
“No.” The crumpled bloody form in the bed croaked this one word. “No charges.”
The cop drew nearer Troy. “You may want to think that over. If we hadn’t shown up when we did, you could have ended up a pile of hamburger. They probably wouldn’t have killed you but they might have broken a leg or arm or one of each. What’s a guy with a nice family like you have, hanging around with…that kind…getting in this kind of mess?”
Rand came closer to the cop, Connie still beside him. “I’ll be staying with Nielsen and I’ll make sure he gets home. Why don’t you give me your card and I’ll make sure he gets back to you?”
The cop nodded, gave Rand his card and left. Nielsen was rolled past Rand and Connie on his way to X-ray.
Rand gazed down at him—two swollen weepy eyes, a split lip, bruised jaw. Troy Nielsen wasn’t a pretty sight and it would only be worse tomorrow. But Rand couldn’t dredge up much sympathy for him. The guy had screwed up royally and put his family through hell.
It was nearly midnight. Supporting Nielsen by the arm, Rand followed Connie up the back steps to Annie’s apartment without a word. Troy was weaving and unsteady. Rand gripped him tightly. You’re not getting away from me again, pal.
“Hurting my arm,” Troy mumbled, trying to pull away.
Rand gripped him tighter. “Stop it. You’ll fall down the stairs and have to go back to the hospital.”
They made it into the apartment. Annie, grimfaced, met them in the kitchen. “
The boys are downstairs asleep. I didn’t want them to hear or see this. Patience is there, too.” She pointed to the spare bedroom. “Take him in there.”
Connie took a step toward her friend. “Annie—”
“Need a shower,” Troy mumbled again.
“I’ll take care of it,” Rand said, pushing the man into the small bathroom. “Bring me some clean clothes for him.”
Connie followed him with her eyes.
With one last look at her, Rand shut the door and made quick work of stripping Troy’s filthy clothing off, helping him into the shower, and turning on the hot water. Steam rose in the room.
A knock sounded. Rand opened the door and Annie handed him folded underwear, pajamas and a robe for Troy. He handed her the rags at his feet. “Put these in a trash bag and take them directly outside to the garbage cans now.”
Within a half hour, Troy, in his pajamas and robe, Rand, Connie and Annie sat around the kitchen table. His hand shaking, Troy was sipping a glass of milk. “It’s good to be home.”
Annie stared at her husband. “You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow you better go to your mother’s.”
“Annie, I’m sorry—”
“What did you do, Troy?” Annie’s voice cracked like a whiplash. “Detective O’Neill says you were in debt to bookies. Is he right? Were you gambling?”
Troy nodded.
“Why? Whatever possessed you to do that?” Annie demanded.
Rand let Annie take the lead. He would just listen and take mental notes.
Sitting like a stick figure, Connie was watching without an expression or word.
“It—I started last summer when…we were having problems,” Troy said.
“Don’t you dare try to blame this on my going back to school.” Annie leaned forward, her chin jutting out.
“Not.” Troy shook his head and then grimaced with the pain of the movement. “Just went to this sports bar with one of the guys from work. He placed a bet and so I did too. Won. Won several times and then I started losing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Annie lashed out again.
“Couldn’t. Knew you’d be mad. Thought I could win big and pay off.” He hung his head and mumbled, “Didn’t.”
