Courting the Clown

by Cathy Quinn

  “I know you would, honey.” Nick stroked his daughter’s hair and wondered how he could bribe her to promise not to breathe a word of their little conversation to Sylvie. She probably wouldn’t appreciate having her life – pregnancies and all - mapped out by a scheming seven-year-old.

  “Emily says it would be okay, too,” Lana added, a satisfied smile on her face. “I made sure. I explained it all and she says it’s okay.”

  “What?”

  “That you marry Iffy and have babies. I talked to her. She promised not to use her squirt gun and be good at the wedding and throw flowers on the floor so Iffy’s glass slippers won’t get dirty.”

  “ Glass slippers?” Nick asked weakly. What kind of fairytales had Sylvie read to the girls?

  “Yeah. And Grandma said it was about bloody time you found yourself a woman.”

  “Lana!”

  “She said it! I was just quaffing.”

  “Quaffing?” Before his automatic daddy-translator kicked in, Nick’s mind had conjured up a vivid picture of his daughters at their grandmother’s kitchen table, guzzling down huge tankards of beer. “Oh, you mean you were quoting?”

  “Yeah. Quaffing. Are you going to ask Sylvie to marry us?”

  How did he answer a question like that? There wasn’t an honest answer. He couldn’t say no, because marrying Sylvie was something he’d realized he wanted to. He’d realized it the moment Lana asked him.

  But that didn’t necessarily mean Sylvie felt the same thing. He looked at the picture on the desk. Lana and Emily on a waterslide, both terror and ecstasy on their faces.

  She’d said she didn’t want kids. But she loved the girls. Didn’t she?

  And what was she feeling for him?

  Chapter 11

  January 2nd, Sylvie was back at Robots and Ragdolls, at a computer Mary had assigned to her. She stared at the filthy keyboard and thought with longing of the piano up on the platform, all abandoned and lonely, probably gathering dust until next Christmas.

  Would she be playing it next Christmas?

  She pushed the thought away, and concentrated on the spreadsheet. It wasn’t easy. She’d been back yesterday afternoon, eagerly checked her phone messages and email, but there was nothing.

  Perhaps the girls’ had already forgotten her – and then, their father too.

  Her feelings hadn’t dulled a bit during the ten days away. She dreamed about Nick. She thought about him all day. She thought she saw him out of the corner of her eye – everywhere. She was in love all right.

  “ Don’t be so.... stupid,” Helen had fumed when Sylvie had shared her insecurities. “Of course he doesn’t just want you as a mother for his kid. I mean, if someone wanted a mother for their kids, they could do a lot better than you..!”

  “Thanks... I think,” Sylvie had replied dryly. Of course, that was the other side of the coin.

  In her coat pocket, her cell rang, and her heart raced when she saw the number. Foolishly, she rushed to the mirror on one wall, frantically smoothing her hair.

  “I missed you,” he said after her too-breathless hello, his voice soft and intimate. She watched her mirror image start to blush, and escaped to filing room before somebody noticed.

  “Hi,” she repeated. God, it had been long since she’d seen him. An eternity. She closed her eyes and remembered his kiss and warmth spread through her.

  “Happy new year,” he said. “Have a nice time with your family?”

  “Yes. How... how are the girls?”

  “Fine. They’re just fine. They miss you... like I do.”

  “That’s very sweet. I thought they’d probably forgotten me by now.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Well, it’s―“

  He interrupted. “I’m out of town or I’d have stopped by to kiss you stupid.”

  Oh, God. Breathe. “Nick...”

  “I’m back late this afternoon. Dinner tonight? My house?”

  “I...”

  “Just say yes.”

  Her mouth spoke on behalf of her heart before her brain could intervene. “Yes.”

  He laughed. “Good girl. Pick you up at six? I’ll drop by on my way home from the airport.”

  “I...”

  “Just say yes.”

  It was a lost cause. “Yes.”

  His voice turned dark and dangerous again. “I missed you, Sylvie. A lot.”

  “I missed you too,” she whispered, the true extent of her feelings filling up her chest. She blinked as a tear threatened to break out of one eye. She heard him breathe, and closed her eyes, imagining the warm puff of air on his neck, his heart beating under her palms. “I did miss you, Nick.”

  “See you at six.”

  “See you,” she whispered.

  It was a long day. A long afternoon, but then it was almost six and she’d changed clothes three times. When the doorbell rang, she was ready, and Lazarus followed her to the door, rubbing against her ankles.

  Nick was holding flowers. Tiny rosebuds in various colors. He didn’t say a word as he held them out to her, and she didn’t say a word as she held the door open for him. But when the door closed, she found herself pinned against her, his hands in her hair, holding her a willing captive for a kiss that fired up her senses. She closed her eyes and relaxed against him.

  “I think you missed me too,” Nick said, as he lifted his head at last. She nodded. Nick flinched, then looked down. “What the hell...?”

  “That’s my cat. Lazarus.”

  “He just dug his claws into my thigh.”

  “How sweet!” she exclaimed. “He’d jealous.”

  Nick eyed the cat dubiously. “The cat is jealous?”

  Sylvie crouched down to stroke Lazarus, then lifted him up. “Of course he’s jealous. He’s been the only man in my life since I got him from the shelter, and now you’re here, with your paws all over me.”

  “Mmm,” Nick murmured. “My paws all over you. I like he sound of that.”

  Sylvie let Lazarus escape to the floor, where he stood between them, his hackles raised at Nick, like a good little chaperone. She put her coat on, trying to avoid the heat of Nick’s gaze. “You promised me dinner, didn’t you? Are the girls waiting for us?”

  “The girls? No. They’re with their grandmother. A sleepover, they love those. I thought we could use some one on one time this evening.”

  “Nick...”

  She was standing just a few inches away, so close that as he turned around to get the door open, their bodies touched. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.

  The evening was wonderful. Filled with romantic music, good food, and a lot of longing glances and lingering touches. Sylvie was feeling quite breathless after dessert, when Nick turned the music down lower and sat down on the sofa, gesturing for her to sit down next to him. His arm felt warm around her, his breath moved her hair, and she felt so much in love that she thought she was about to burst.

  She didn’t want to go home tonight. She wanted to stay here, wrapped in Nick’s arms until the morning sun forced them awake. She wanted that – and much more.

  She murmured happily as he pulled her close, and he chuckled. “You’re almost purring,” he said.

  “I feel like purring,” she said, grinning up at him. He was smiling.

  “Me too.” He kissed her temple, then nudged her head up to look into her eyes. His gaze was serious. “Sylvie... there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Sylvie’s heart sped up. His tone was too serious. She sat up straight, pulling away, and with an aching heart remembered his daughter’s words. I’m going to ask daddy to marry you. “Oh, God.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Does this have something to do with Lana and Emily?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking – don’t.”

  “What do you think I’m th
inking?” Nick asked mildly.

  “It’s something serious, isn’t it?” she asked, gulping down air, trying to squelch the burning disappointment. “Something... something to do with...” She waved a hand between them. “You and me... and Emily and Lana...?”

  Nick stared at her. There was no question anymore as to what they were talking about, no doubts at all. They knew the score now. “You and me―“

  She took a deep breath and hurried to interrupt. “Don’t. Please – don’t. Don’t say it.”

  Nick paused. His eyes lost some of their warmth. “Why?”

  “Because... because....”

  Nick pulled away. Stood up. Leaving her cold and desolate on the sofa. “I get it. Because you don’t like children,” he said flatly. “Because you don’t want them.”

  That wasn’t it. It had never been more than a meager excuse she’d clung to in the beginning. She loved the girls. She loved Nick. She loved all of them.

  But she would not marry him just to provide his children with a mother. It had to be for love. It had to be forever. Not for convenience, compatibility or anything other than true love – corny as it sounded.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” His voice has hardened. She didn’t answer. Of course that wasn’t it. But she couldn’t tell him the real reason. Couldn’t tell him that she wouldn’t say yes to a proposal ordered by a 5 year old. Couldn’t tell him that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than love.

  If she did, he might tell her he loved her. He’d do that for his daughters. He’d do anything for them. And then she’d never be sure if he really did love her.

  Then he was gone, and she missed him already, him, the girls, the family they’d almost become, the family they should have become.

  But it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted all of him. Nothing less would do.

  She stood. “I should go.”

  “Right.”

  They walked in silence out to the car, and the drive home was silent. Nick’s profile was hard, aloof, and she felt terrible. He thought she was this shallow, this cold.

  He had no idea she loved him, love his kids, wanted nothing more than to stay with them forever.

  But not if that wasn’t what he really wanted – for himself. Not for his kids.

  Nick’s world felt dark as he drove back home after dropping Sylvie off at her house. Nothing more had been said. There was nothing to say. He’d made a mistake, and not for the first time. Sylvie had felt something from him – he was sure she had. But it hadn’t been strong enough, not important enough to overlook the ‘burden’ of his two daughters.

  That had been his second mistake. He’d thought Sylvie had fallen in love with his kids too.

  He slept fitfully, wakening late to the sound of his daughters bursting into the house, followed by their grandmother. He pulled on some clothes and went out into the kitchen where the three of them were busy pulling milk out of the fridge and cookies out of the cookie jar.

  “Morning,” he said, and the girls ran into his arms, giving him a rush of feeling. “Have a nice time with Grandma?”

  “Uh-huh. Have a nice time with Sylvie?” Emily echoed.

  “Yes,” he lied to them.

  “Can we go visit her at work today?” Emily asked.

  “I don’t think so. Not today.”

  “Did you ask her to marry us?”

  Lana shushed her sister, but it was too late. Nick sat down, pulling them both towards him. “Marry us?”

  The girls were silent, but guilt came off them in waves.

  “Emily? Lana?”

  “Emily wasn’t supposed to tell. I told Sylvie we were going to ask you to marry her,” Lana mumbled. “But she said that wasn’t how it worked and we shouldn’t ask you.”

  Nick groaned. “Girls...!”

  “So we didn’t! We didn’t ask you to ask her!” Lana continued, anxious to prove her innocent. He let go of them, and his mother, silent for once, poured their milk. Nick just sat there, sighing. The girls finished their treat and ran off to play.

  “I take it things aren’t going well with your clown?” his mother said. She knew about Sylvie. He’d told her about her during that time at the hospital, when they thought she might be seriously ill. He’d told her too much. He’d never been particularly close to his mother, but that evening, when they both thought she might die, they’d shared things they never had before.

  “I’m in love with her,” he said.

  His mother smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “It’s not.... It’s over. Last night – she was terrified that I was about to propose to her. She stopped me off cold. Forbade me to do it.”

  His mother put her hand to her chest, her eyes wide, a big smile on her face like she hadn’t noticed the bad news. “Oh, my. Were you about to propose?”

  Nick shook his head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I hadn’t really planned anything. Maybe I was about to tell her how I feel. I just knew I didn’t want to lose her.”

  “So, you didn’t propose. Or anything?”

  He shrugged. “She stopped me off. She told me not to say whatever it is I wanted to say. I thought it was because of the girls.”

  “What has this to do with the girls?”

  “Sylvie’s rather afraid of kids. Or so she says. She never planned on having any of her own. So, when she told me to stop right there, I thought she meant she couldn’t deal with the girls. That I was too much of a package deal.”

  “You didn’t realize she stopped you off because she thought the girls had put you up to this – that you might be about to propose just to keep her in the girls’ life.”

  Nick rubbed his face. “Right. That was probably what it was. God, I’m stupid.”

  “Don’t worry, son, it’s a chromosomal defect. You’re a man, you can’t help it.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  “So, she left. Stony silence, no goodbyes?” his mother guessed.

  Nick felt rather wretched. He grimaced at his mother. “Sort of. How did you get so good at this?”

  “You are quick to assume, Nick. After that happened with Clarissa, you don’t trust people. Especially not women.”

  “And how would you know this?”

  “A mother’s intuition.”

  “This is totally different from what happened with my marriage.”

  “Yes. But what happened then is the reason why you were so quick to assume.”

  “So, what do I do now?”

  His mother’s eyes twinkled. “I’m staying with the girls tonight. We won’t wait up. Don’t hurry back on our accounts.”

  “You mean I should...”

  “Don’t be such a teenager, Nick. Go after your woman!”

  Chapter 12

  “It’s Nick. We need to talk.”

  Sylvie debated telling him to go away, but had a feeling it wouldn’t be a prudent course of action. She’d seen Nick in a determined mood, and guessed he wouldn’t let a door or two get in his way if he wanted to talk to her.

  She pressed the buzzer, and rushed into the bathroom to wash her face while he made his way up the few flights. Her eyes were red. She’d been crying. Stupid, unhappy, broken-hearted tears.

  And he’d see. She pressed a cold wet washcloth against her eyes, but knew it was useless. He’d notice. Worst case scenario, he’s guess why. He’d guess that she was in love with him.

  Three rapid knocks shook the door and she turned off the light so he wouldn’t see her face too clearly, then changed her mind and turned them on again because she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about romantic lighting.

  Nick looked different, the cold hard look from before was gone. A small, wry smile played on his lips as they looked at each other in silence.

  She cleared her throat. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you.” He unwound the scarf from around his neck. Flakes of melting snow drifted on the floor, forming tiny puddles on the tiled floor. She was more fascinated with the flakes of snow
still in his hair. They were melting too, leaving drops of water clinging to him. Her fingers itched, and she brought them behind her back and entwined them there. Safer.

  But not for long. His hands circled her arms, sliding down them, pulling softly until her fingers lost their grip on each other, and were enfolded in his hands. She felt her knees weaken as he brought her hands up to his mouth, softly kissing them. “Nick...”

  “The girls told me, Sylvie. They told me what they’d said to you.” He smiled lopsidedly. “And then I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry.”

  Sylvie pulled her hands out of his, took a step back and crossed her arms. “What exactly did they tell you?”

  “They told me that they’d ... well... that they’d practically proposed to you on my behalf.”

  Sylvie laughed. She wasn’t sure how she managed to, but she did. “Yeah. They did.”

  “So, no wonder you panicked. You thought I was about to propose, like they’d asked me to.”

  She’d thought? So had she misinterpreted what had happened. She took a deep breath. “Yeah, well, asking someone to marry you just because your children want you to -- that would be taking parental duty to the extremes.”