Little Secrets--His Unexpected Heir

by Maureen Child

  “Which is just one of the reasons I asked her to go,” Jack said calmly. “I don’t want her worrying about me.”

  She jerked her head back and gave him a look of pure astonishment. “Y’know,” she said, “that’s what people on Earth do. We worry for the people we care about.”

  “I don’t want her to care about me, that’s the whole point.”

  “Right.” Cass nodded sharply, paced a little frantically for a few minutes, then came to a stop and glared at him again. “And it’s all about what you want, isn’t it, Jack?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, please,” his sister countered, waving one hand at him in dismissal. “You’ve been saying it in every way but words for months.”

  “I’m not doing this with you, Cass,” he said. “Not going to talk about it.”

  “Good. Because I don’t care what you have to say. Not anymore. All you have to do is listen.” She came closer and he saw sparks dazzling her eyes. “I’ve tried to be patient with you. I’m a doctor, Jack. I know what’s going on with you.”

  “I don’t need a damn doctor and if I did,” he told her hotly, “I wouldn’t go to my little sister.”

  Damned if he needed everyone telling him what he should do and when he should do it. And he really didn’t want his younger sister standing there like the voice of God telling him to shape up.

  “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear and I’ve really tried to keep quiet, give you room to deal.”

  “There’s nothing going on with me.”

  “You denying PTSD doesn’t make it go away. My God, you’re practically a textbook case.” She walked to the couch, dropped onto it, then just as quickly jumped to her feet again, apparently unable to sit still. “I told Sam and Dad they had to give you time. Let you get used to being back in the world. That you’d come around eventually.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted but saw that his sister wasn’t buying it.

  “Sure you are.” She snorted. “You notice Sam doesn’t come up from San Diego much anymore? Or have you paid any attention to the fact that Dad almost never comes into the office these days even though he used to love it?”

  He thought about that for a minute or two. She had a point though he’d never really considered it before. His brother, Sam, was a busy guy. And his father had recently taken up golf, so why would he be coming around an office he’d retired from. “Yeah, but—”

  “Sam got tired of you shooting him down every time he tried to spend time with you.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Yeah, you did. You’ve shot me down often enough for me to know that and I can tell you it’s no fun having a proverbial door slammed in your face every time you try to talk to someone.” She took a long breath. “Damn it, Jack, we’re your family and we deserve better.”

  “I just needed—”

  But she kept talking. “Dad gets his heart broken just a little more whenever he’s with you and can’t reach you, so he stays away.”

  Guilt dropped onto his shoulders, but he was so used to the burden he hardly noticed. Remembering the last time he’d seen his father, Jack could admit to the sorrow he’d seen in the older man’s eyes. And still... “He doesn’t—”

  “Not finished,” she snapped. “Honestly, Jack, you make me so furious. Do you know how many men and women come home from dangerous duties and have no one to talk to? To count on? Do you know how lucky you are to have people who love you? Who are willing to put up with your bullshit?”

  “I—”

  “Does it look like I’m done?” She inhaled sharply, blew the air out in a huff and stared up at him. “You’re my brother and I love you. You’re Rita’s husband and she loves you.”

  There was that pang around his heart again. He rubbed the spot idly, almost unconsciously. She loved him. He’d been pretty sure she did, but knowing it was something else again. He swallowed hard against that pounding ache in his heart and told himself that even if she did love him, he’d done the right thing.

  “You don’t get it, Cass.” He sighed. “I don’t want to be loved. Whoever loves me is just setting themselves up for a letdown later. Why do that to anybody?”

  “Well, good God,” Cass said, clearly stunned. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s not just your memories haunting you that’s kept you tucked away up here in your fortress of solitude. It’s something else. You’re an idiot.” Shaking her head, she said, “I’m so glad Mom can’t see you like this, although she’d probably have kicked you into shape by now. You don’t want to be loved? You don’t want to feel anything for anyone? Too damn bad. Boo the hell hoo.”

  “What?” A choked off, surprised laugh shot from his throat. It seemed he was destined to have the women in his life constantly surprising him.

  “You have a chance at something amazing, Jack, and you’re letting it get away. You told the woman who loves you, the mother of your child,” she added with emphasis, “to leave because you’re scared to be hurt again. To know pain again.”

  “Careful, Cass,” he said, voice soft. Even for his sister, he was only willing to put up with so much. He was doing the hard thing here. Why could no one see it, appreciate what it cost him?

  “No, I’m done being careful. I should never have given you time to adjust, Jack,” she said sadly. “That was my mistake. I should have done just what Rita did, grab hold and drag you, kicking and screaming back into life.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked.”

  “We’ll never know, will we?” she asked. Still shaking her head, she walked over, picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Look around Jack,” she said. “You got what you wanted. You’re alone. I hope you enjoy it. Because if you keep acting like a jackass—this is all you’ll ever have.”

  He watched her go and the slam of the door behind her echoed in the stillness.

  Ten

  The Marchetti bakery on historic 25th Street in Ogden was in an antique brick building with sloping wood floors that creaked musically with every step. On one side of the shop was a handmade-chocolate shop and on the other, an artisan boutique that sold local artists’ work.

  The bakery drew customers from all over northern Utah, so they were constantly busy, which meant the entire family—except for the younger kids—were there when Rita arrived. Her mom and sister were in the kitchen while her father and brothers ran the front of the shop and handled any deliveries. This didn’t change, she thought with a smile as she glanced around at the shining display cases and the customers wandering, looking, sitting at tables and sipping lattes.

  Just walking into the bakery soothed the ball of ice in the pit of her stomach. It had been the longest hour-and-a-half flight of her life to make it here from Long Beach. She hadn’t told the family she was coming; there hadn’t been time. She’d simply packed her things, told Casey to close up the bakery for a few days and then raced to the airport. All Rita had been able to think of was getting here, where she knew her heart was safe.

  The long drive from the Salt Lake City airport had given her more time to think and she still had no answers. Hadn’t she done everything she could to reach Jack? Hadn’t she given him every reason to come out of the darkness? To live again?

  Tears were close so she blinked furiously to keep them at bay and smiled at a woman she knew who was busily wiping chocolate off her child’s mouth. Here was safety. Love. Understanding.

  The joy on her father’s face when he spotted her was like pouring oil on the churning waters inside her. Rita’s brothers, Anthony and Marco, called out to her as she threaded her way through the crowd toward the kitchen to find her mom. Of course she had to stop along the way to say hello to people she knew and try to make small talk, while inside she was screaming.

  Behind the counter, Rita was hugged hard by her dad,
then passed from brother to brother before they released her.

  “This is a nice surprise,” her father said, then took a closer look at her face and frowned. “It is nice, isn’t it?”

  Nick Marchetti was in his sixties, with graying black hair, sharp brown eyes and a belly that was a little fuller than it used to be. Both of his sons were several inches taller than him, but it didn’t matter because Nick was, just as he always had been, a force to be reckoned with.

  “It’s good to see you, Daddy,” Rita whispered, relaxing into his familiar hug.

  He kissed her cheek and said, “Go on now, go sit down and talk to your mother. She’ll be happy you’re here.”

  “Okay.” Rita nodded, slipped through the swinging door and never saw the worried frowns on the faces of the men in her family.

  Stepping into the kitchen with the familiar scents and the heat from the ovens was like walking into the comfort of her childhood. Growing up, she and her siblings had spent most of their free time working in the bakery, so the memories were thick and reassuring.

  Rita had gone home to Ogden hoping for a little peace and quiet and maybe some understanding. A half hour later, she told herself she’d clearly come to the wrong place for that.

  “I can’t believe you left,” her mother said hotly. Teresa Marchetti had short black hair, carefully touched up to hide the gray every five weeks. She was a tiny woman but ruled her family like a four-star general.

  Rita took a sip of the herbal tea she wasn’t interested in. “Jack didn’t want me there. He told me to leave.”

  “And so you do it?” Teresa shook her head and scowled. “I don’t remember you being so obedient as a child.”

  Rita stiffened at the accusation. “I wasn’t being obedient.” God, that made her sound like some subservient fifties’ housewife asking her husband for an allowance.

  “Yet here you are.” Her mother huffed a little, muttered something Rita didn’t quite catch, then slid two trays of bread loaves into the oven. Turning back around, she reached for a bottle of water and took a drink.

  It was hot in the kitchen with four ovens going constantly. Rita’s father and brothers had deliberately stayed out front, leaving her mother and sister to do the heavy emotional lifting.

  Gina looked up from the counter where she was rolling out cookie dough. “So Jack says go and you say okeydoke? What the hell is that, Rita?”

  “Language,” their mother said automatically, then added, “your sister has a point. Do you love this man?”

  “Of course she does it’s all over her face,” Gina said before Rita could open her mouth.

  “Thanks, I can talk for myself,” Rita said.

  “Just not to Jack, is that it?” Gina rolled her eyes as fiercely as she rolled the dough.

  “I did talk to Jack.” Rita broke a cookie in half and popped it into her mouth. She should have known that no one in her family would pat her on the head and simply accept what she said. They all had opinions and loved nothing better than sharing them. “I talked till my throat was dry. He doesn’t listen to what he doesn’t want to hear.”

  “Hmm,” Teresa mused with a snort of amusement. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  Fine, she was stubborn. Rita knew that. But this wasn’t about her, was it?

  “Mom, how could I stay if he didn’t want me?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Gina blurted. “He does want you. You told us already he admitted that.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t want to want me.”

  “That’s female logic,” Anthony said when he hustled in to restock a tray of cannoli.

  “Jack’s the one who said it,” Rita pointed out, finishing off the rest of her cookie.

  Anthony countered, “He only said it because that’s how men think women think.”

  “What?” Gina asked, clearly as confused as Rita. “That must be more male logic because it makes no sense.”

  “It does to men,” Anthony argued before picking up the tray to head out front.

  Rita propped her elbows on the counter and propped her head in her hands. A circus, she thought. It was a circus at Marchetti’s.

  “Go on, back to work,” Teresa ordered, waving at her son to hurry him along. When it was just the three women in the kitchen again, Teresa sat down on a stool opposite Rita. “Don’t think about what he said or what he did or even what your family thinks about all of this. There’s just one thing to consider, Rita.” She paused, shot her other daughter a don’t-open-your-mouth look and asked Rita, “Do you love him?”

  “Of course I love him, Mom. That’s not the point.”

  “It’s the only point,” her mother said.

  Gina kept quiet for as long as she could, then blurted out, “For God’s sake, Rita, all men are impossible to deal with—”

  “We can hear you!” their father shouted from the front.

  Rita chuckled and shook her head. The heck with peace and quiet. This is just what she had needed.

  “Am I wrong?” Gina shouted to her father. Then turning back to her mother and sister, she demanded, “See? Brothers, fathers, husbands, sons, they’re all crazy. But giving up is never the answer, Rita. You have to dig in and fight back. Never give an inch.”

  “Your sister’s right.” Teresa nodded.

  “It’s a miracle!” Gina looked up at the ceiling to Heaven beyond and got a dark look from Teresa for her trouble.

  Then, ignoring one daughter, Teresa reached out and took both of Rita’s hands in hers. “I’m ashamed that you didn’t fight for what you want, for what you need. Rita, we didn’t raise you to walk away.”

  Her heart gave a sharp tug at the realization that that’s exactly what she had done. In her own hurt and grief, she’d tucked tail and run away. But how could she not have?

  “So I’m supposed to stay with a man who doesn’t want me there?”

  Gina opened her mouth and shut it again when her mother held up one hand.

  “He does want you there. He told you so,” Teresa said. “He wants you to leave before he loves you? What kind of statement is that? He already loves you and it scares him.”

  Rita laughed shortly and shook her head, denying the possibility. “Nothing scares Jack.”

  Although, the minute those words left her mouth she remembered Jack saying “You terrify me.” Maybe her mother was on to something.

  “Oh, honey,” her mother said, “nothing scares a man more than love when it finally shows up.” She gave Rita’s hands a pat, then picked up a cookie and took a bite. “It’s especially difficult for a strong man, because being out of control is a hard thing to accept.”

  “Jimmy wasn’t scared,” Gina muttered.

  “Sure he was,” her mother said on a laugh. “You just didn’t give him time to think about it.”

  Shrugging, Gina admitted with a grin, “Okay, fair point.”

  “And your brothers?” Teresa laughed. “They were terrified.”

  “We can still hear you,” Marco yelled.

  Ignoring her son, Teresa looked at Rita. “Even your dad fought tooth and nail to keep from loving me.”

  “As if I stood a chance at that,” Nick called out.

  “Why do we have a door,” Teresa wondered, “when everyone hears everything anyway?” Shaking her head again, she continued, “What I’m saying is, everything worth having, is worth fighting for.”

  Rita just didn’t know. She’d left the penthouse in a rush, hurt beyond belief, angry beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Heart aching, she’d had only one thought. Come home. To the family that was always there for her.

  “So what’re you going to do?” Gina spread a cinnamon-and-sugar mixture on the rectangle of dough then carefully rolled it up for slicing and baking. “You going to stay her
e? Or go back and reclaim your life?”

  Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Being here with her family, she was starting to think and as she did, she was embarrassed to admit that running away from her problems, from the man she loved, just didn’t feel right. She’d pulled back from him and hid away—the very thing she’d accused Jack of doing.

  “Why should I leave?” she murmured, hardly realizing she was speaking aloud.

  “Exactly,” Gina agreed, slicing cookies and laying them on sheets to bake.

  “I have a business there. And a home—okay, not the penthouse, but I was happy there and I can be again.” Rita ate another cookie while her brain raced and the pain in her heart began to ease.

  “Sure you can,” her mother said.

  “Jack doesn’t make decisions for me.”

  “’Course not,” Gina agreed.

  “He doesn’t get to tell me when to go. When to stay. Sit. Heel.”

  “That’s my girl,” Teresa cheered.

  “Why should I make this easy on Jack?” Rita demanded of no one in particular.

  “You never made it easy on any of us,” Marco quipped when he brought an empty tray into the kitchen.

  “Oh, please,” Gina sneered. “And you were the angel child? Do you remember shaving my Barbie dolls bald?”

  “A fond memory,” Marco assured her, dodging when she took a swing at him.

  “I’m going back,” Rita announced. “And I’m going to look Jack in the eye and tell him that he can’t dictate my life.”

  “I feel like I should have pom-poms,” Gina murmured.

  “He’s not chasing me away,” Rita proclaimed, scooting off the stool to stand on her own two feet. “I’m going back. I’m going to tell him he’s in love with me and when he’s done being scared of it, he can come and find me. I’m building a life there and I’m not giving it up.”

  “Good for you.” Her father came into the kitchen and gave her a quick hug before grabbing another cookie. “But you can stay for a couple of days, right? Have a nice visit before you go back?”

  “I sure can, Daddy,” she said and leaned in to the most wonderful man she’d ever known. “Let Jack miss me. It’ll be good for him.”