by Holly Jacobs
Some of Mia’s pleasure faded.
He wasn’t taking her because of some need to let her in, to open the door to his past just a bit. She was a convenience.
Still, she kept her smile in place. “What time?”
“Is eight too early? It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour ride.”
“No, that’s perfect.”
The next morning Mia waited nervously for Mac and Katie. She was meeting people Mac cared for in a way she was afraid he’d never care for her. Maybe she could learn something from them, figure out how to get beyond Mac’s walls.
Or maybe she’d discover that her feelings for him were simply that they were spending so much time together. As soon as he found Katie a home they’d see less of each other and the sparks would die out.
She’d realize what she felt wasn’t love. That this all-encompassing feeling was just an illusion.
Even as she thought the words, she realized she didn’t believe them.
Her feelings for Mac just kept growing. It wasn’t anything big he did. It was the little things. Buying her a coat, finding her a car…the way he treated Katie, all the pro bono work he did.
It might be easier if this feeling was an illusion, but every time she saw him, it grew bigger, heavier, more real.
Mac pulled up in front of her building and Mia had her coat on before he got out of his Explorer.
She put aside thoughts of her feelings, and hurried out.
“You’re fast. Most women make a guy wait,” as he unclipped the car seat from his car.
“I’m not most women,” she said with a laugh.
Rather than coming up with some Larry-ish quip, he simply shot her an odd look and said, “No, I guess you’re not.”
He transferred Katie into her Cherokee and got in the passenger side.
Katie was asleep before they hit I 79.
Mac was quiet.
Mia watched the countryside fly by and finally, just outside Meadville, she said, “So, tell me about the Zumigalas.”
She wasn’t quite sure Mac would comply.
Other than telling her of the sledding incident, and mentioning he lived with them while he was in high school, he hadn’t said much about them.
No surprise there…Mac didn’t say much about anything personal. Mia should respect his privacy, but instead she wanted to dig in and find out more about him.
When he didn’t say anything, she prompted, “You lived with them while you went to high school? They’re your friend Chet’s parents?”
“Yes.”
“So what are they like?” She glanced at Mac, he wore an odd, faraway expression.
“Mr. Z. is quiet,” he finally admitted. “He doesn’t say much. I guess that’s why when he does say something, everyone listens.”
“And Mrs. Zumigala?”
“She’s not quiet.”
She glanced his way again, and he was grinning.
“Actually, you remind me of her in some ways,” he added.
“You’re saying I’m not quiet either? Is that a polite way of saying I have a big mouth?”
“Me, polite?” He chuckled. “No. What I meant was, until you, Mrs. Z. was one of the only people who wasn’t afraid to call me on things.”
“And did you need calling often?” she asked.
He laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.” And then he launched into some stories of his youth.
Mac got quiet again. Oh, he gave her directions, but had obviously shared all he was going to.
Mia eased the car into the driveway of a neat, white, split-level house. It had a two-car garage with a basketball hoop situated above and between the two forest-green doors. The yard was framed by a wooden fence and a few bushes were scattered throughout the yard.
The Zumigalas’ house looked like a home.
Mia wondered if Mac and his friend Chet had played pickup games there.
She glanced over at him.
Yeah, she bet they did.
There was a winter-bare tree to the left of the drive. Not huge, but enough to provide a bit of shade in the summer. She could almost picture Mac sitting under it.
“It’s good to be ho—” Mac started, then switched to “here.”
Home.
He hadn’t said home.
There was significance in the omission.
They got out of the car and Mac got Katie out of the back as Mia pondered the what’s and why’s of his word choice.
She didn’t get to ponder long. The front door of the house opened and a dark-haired woman rushed out and toward the car.
“Mac,” she said, her face alight with a smile.
“You don’t have a coat on,” Mac grumbled as she pulled him into a hug.
“Mac has a thing about coats,” Mia said with a laugh.
The woman turned to her, and gave her a quick once-over. “You must be Mia.”
“Guilty as charged, but I’m probably not guilty of anything else Mac told you about me. He exaggerates.”
“He says he couldn’t have gotten along without you.”
“See, exaggeration. Mac doesn’t need anyone in order to get along.”
“Much as I’m enjoying the conversation,” Mac said, “maybe we should get the baby inside?”
“Oh, my, where are my manners, come in, come in.”
She hustled them into the house and shut the door. “Here, give me your coats.” She hung them in the closet and shouted, “Sal, they’re here.”
Sal Zumigala was shorter than Mac. Shorter and rounder. But he had a quiet smile when he spied them. “Good to see you, son.”
“Nice to see you, Mr. Z.”
“Let’s go in and sit down,” his wife said. “As much as I’m glad to see you, Mac, I want to see the baby.”
She oohed and aahed as Mac unpacked Katie with the efficiency of an expert.
“She’s beautiful.” She held out her arms. “Let me have her.”
Mac handed her over and smiled. “I knew you’d want to get your hands on her.”
“I love babies,” Mrs. Z. murmured as she started cooing to Katie, who cooed right back.
“And she likes you.”
As Mac’s Mrs. Z. held Katie Mia noticed the ring she was wearing.
“That’s a beautiful ring,” she said.
Mrs. Zumigala smiled. “Sal gave it to me on our last anniversary. It’s a Celtic Knot.”
She shot her husband a look that was so full of love it was palpable.
Mia sat back and watched the Zumigalas and Mac chat about this and that.
It wasn’t so much what any of them said, but Mia could feel the love they shared. Mac was more open with them than she’d ever witnessed. No jokes to keep them away, just open, honest emotions.
They were as tangled together as the gold knot on Mrs. Zumigala’s finger.
They were a family.
Mrs. Zumigala reluctantly handed the baby back to Mia as she served dinner.
Mia was getting to be an expert at juggling the baby on one knee while eating. Keeping Katie back far enough so she couldn’t reach the plate.
“You look very natural holding her,” Mrs. Z. said. “I remember when Chet was little. He liked to help me eat.”
“Katie does, too,” Mia said with a laugh. “I learned the hard way after I got a lap full of tacos one night at dinner. I’d prefer keeping the roast on my plate. It’s delicious.”
“Thank you. I like to cook. I miss having the boys home for dinners every night. It’s different cooking for just Sal and me.”
“Maybe you should have more kids,” Mac said.
Mrs. Zumigala laughed. “I don’t think that’s in the cards, dear.
“Let me just clear the table, and then I’ll see about our dessert. Double chocolate cake. It’s Mac’s favorite.”
“Before dessert, I’d like to talk to you both,” Mac said. “Mia, would you mind if I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Z. alone for a minute?” he asked.
Mia picked up the baby and sa
id, “Sure. Katie-Cupcakes and I will go turn on the game in the living room.”
She shot Mac a smile as she left the room.
Mac smiled back. He probably shouldn’t have invited Mia along, but he needed her here. He needed her smile, needed to have her near.
“What’s wrong, son?” Mr. Zumigala asked when Mia had left.
“I—” Mac stopped short, not sure how to say what he’d come here to say.
He’d gone over it again and again in his mind, lining up arguments just like he might for a court case. But unlike court, now that the moment was here and the Zumigalas were waiting for him to say something, he couldn’t find the words.
“It’s about Katie,” he finally managed.
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Z. bubbled happily, “she’s such a doll. And we can see that you’ve fallen in love with her. We’re so happy for you. I’ve said for years that you need a family, haven’t I, Sal?”
Mr. Z. nodded.
“Me?” Mac asked, incredulously. “You think I’m going to tell you that I’m keeping Katie?”
“You’re not?” Mrs. Z’s smile faded. “I don’t see how you can let her go. I watched how you were with her, with Mia as well. The three of you mesh. You fit. You’re a family.”
“No,” Mac said with more force than he’d intended. Being a family wasn’t in the cards for him. He knew that.
He would have thought Mrs. Z. would recognize that fact.
“No,” he said softer this time. “Mia’s a friend. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago how I’d describe her, that wouldn’t be the word I use, but there it is. She’s a good friend. And Katie, well, you’re right, I’ve lost my heart to her, but because I care I want the best for her, and that will never be me. I’m not a good candidate for parenting.”
The Zumigalas sat quietly waiting for the rest of what he was going to say.
They were good at that.
Waiting.
They’d waited when he’d first moved in, waited for him to accept that they cared, that he was staying. Waited for him to realize his potential, trusting he’d follow their advice and try.
Now, they waited to hear what he had to say, trusting in it, in him.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to the two of you about. Katie,” he said.
Again, he had a hard time finding the words. He wondered why. Finding words generally came easily to him.
“I want to talk to you about adopting her,” he finally said in a rush. Before they could respond he hurriedly continued, “I want the best for her, and I could spend the next couple months looking and I’d never find anyone better to raise her. You two…”
He stopped. He had the words this time, but felt uncharacteristically choked up.
“You didn’t have to take me in. You just did. And you never made me feel like a burden. You—”
“Stop right there before you say something that will make me want to smack you,” Mrs. Z. said.
Smacking was one of her favorite threats when he and Chet were in school. But to the best of Mac’s knowledge, Mrs. Z. wouldn’t even smack a housefly. The threat had always made them smile, and despite his emotional turmoil, Mac smiled this time as well.
“Listen to me, young man,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear in the past, so I’m going to put this as succinctly as I can. You never were a burden. You were a joy. The minute I met you I knew you were special. And when your aunt went into the hospital and you came to stay with us, I knew I’d have a hard time letting you go back to her. It was a relief when she went to live with her friend in Florida and agreed that you could stay here with us. It was a relief because you were mine.”
She thumped her hand over her heart. “Mine. I knew it. I might not have given birth to you, but you’re mine every bit as much as Chet is. You might call me Mrs. Z., and maybe you don’t even think of me as such, but I’m your mother. In my heart, you’re my son. You have been since the day you came to stay with us.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, as if daring him to disagree.
Mac didn’t.
Couldn’t.
He was speechless. She’d told him she loved him before. He’d never quite believed her. He’d always felt as if there were some unstated qualifier.
She loved him, but then she loved everyone. It was in her nature.
But this vehemence in her words, this wasn’t a casual sort of love. This was something different. Something bigger than he’d ever suspected.
“Me and Sal, we wanted a big family, but it never worked out. I used to wonder why, why we weren’t blessed with more children. But then you came along and I found out I did have another son. I realized that family wasn’t something you gave birth to, it’s something you create. You’re family.”
He felt as if something new was lodged in his throat. He wasn’t quite sure how to shake it. So he ignored and pushed around it, asking, “Maybe Katie’s like that, too? Family you never knew you had?”
“Of course she is,” Mrs. Z. said. “I knew the minute I saw her that she was my family, every bit as much as you are. The heart knows family when it sees it.”
He felt a wave of relief. “So, you’ll take her.”
“No,” she said.
“No?” Mac asked. “But, you said—”
“She’s family. I love her, but I can’t adopt her. I’m not as spry as I used to be, and you need to be quick on your feet to keep up with a little one. With that red hair and gleam in her eye, she’s going to be busy and fast. I wouldn’t be able to keep up.”
“I don’t understand.”
His heart sank. He’d been so sure he’d found a solution, that the Zumigalas would fall in love with Katie and keep her. After all, they’d kept him. Katie was so much more loveable than he was.
“I won’t adopt her,” Mrs. Z. repeated, “but I’ve wanted grandchildren for years, right Sal?”
Mr. Z. nodded.
“And I’ve got my first one right out there in the living room. I’ll spoil her rotten. You’ll try to stop me, like any good father would, but I won’t listen.”
“I can’t be her father,” Mac said.
He’d said it to Mia, and now he’d said it to the Zumigalas.
He’d said it to himself countless times. He couldn’t be Katie O’Keefe’s father.
Not hers.
Not anyone’s.
“Why, I’d like to know?” Mrs. Z. asked.
“Look at my parents, my family. We’re not the type to stick around. My mom and dad left me, my aunt couldn’t wait to hand you responsibility for me. It’s in the genes.”
“You couldn’t be more unlike those people who gave birth to you,” Mrs. Z. said. “I thought you were smart enough to figure that out. Those people that you were born to were takers. And though you know I don’t like speaking badly of anyone, they weren’t very smart ones at that. They took your love, then threw it aside. You, you’re a giver. You’ve got one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever met.”
“Listen, boy,” Mr. Z. said, “I’ve watched you carry this burden around for years. I figured you were smart and would eventually figure it out, but seems I was wrong. So, let me spell it out. You’re nothing like the people who gave birth to you.”
Mrs. Z. nodded. “Remember that first term in high school when you brought me your report card?”
Mac wouldn’t ever forget that day. “You looked at it, and then at me. I could see you were disappointed. You asked if it was the best I could do.”
“And you said no,” she said. “I told you that grades were important because they gave you options. You could slide through high school, just getting by. But you’d be losing opportunities. What if you decided you wanted to be a brain surgeon? You’d never make it into school. Good grades left all the doors open to you, left all your options open. I wanted you to have them all. You listened and brought home A’s from then on. You got that scholarship to college, then went on to law school. I was so proud of y
ou.”
Something warm spread through Mac’s chest at her words. He’d made her proud.
“But,” she continued, “for years you’ve been slamming doors on your personal options, just like you’re doing now with Katie. You haven’t even considered that maybe she wasn’t given to you to find a home for, maybe she’s part of the family that you could have if you’re not too afraid to open the door.”
“Mac,” Mr. Z. said. “You’re my son. I couldn’t love you more, be more proud of you, if you’d been born to us. I don’t think you’re the type of man to let fear stand in the way of a gift. A true and utter gift. That’s what that baby is.”
“Mia, too, I think,” Mrs. Z. said.
“I don’t—” Mac started.
“Don’t make any decisions now. Think on it, son. You have options…if you’re not too afraid to take the wonderful chances that are sometimes handed to you.”
Mrs. Z. hugged him. Hugged him hard. “But no matter what you do, what you decide, you’re mine. Don’t you forget that. I love you.”
“I love you, too…” He paused, wanting to say more. The word, that one word was lodged in his throat, aching to come out.
“Mom,” he finally whispered. Louder, he said, “I love you, too, Mom.”
Mrs. Z. started to cry. Hard earnest sobs.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
With tears running down her face she still managed to give him a look, one of those looks.
“Don’t you dare apologize. I’ve been waiting years to hear you call me that.”
“What?”
“You know, for a smart boy, sometimes you’re very slow.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “But that just shows how much you mean to me, because despite your occasional denseness, I love you like crazy.”
Mr. Z. slapped his back. “Me, too.”
“Thanks…Dad.”
Mr. Z. beamed.
“But about Katie—”
“No. Not another word about it. No decisions either. Give yourself time. Weigh your options. You know what you’re doing. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Give yourself the time to make the right decision.”
“But—”
“Now, let’s go check on Mia and Katie before they think we’ve deserted them.” She kissed his cheek. “We still have a chocolate cake that needs eating.”
