I rang the doorbell and readied a friendly smile. It was Luke, however, who opened the door, and I smiled with happiness and relief.
“Hi!” I said.
“A little early,” he observed grinning warmly.
I was looking around for the kids.
“Relax,” he told me. “I sent them for the pizza.”
“Oh,” I said a little sheepishly.
He grinned again, obviously amused by my discomfiture. Once inside he closed the door behind me.
“So what’s in the basket, little girl, asked the wolf?” teased Luke.
I looked down at the basket that I was carrying as if just remembering it.
“Oh, uh brownies. I made them today. With extra chocolate chips. Ghirardelli. They’re supposed to be the best. I hope every—”
Abruptly Luke grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down to him, kissing me hungrily.
“What were you saying?” he asked when he let me go.
I tried recall but my heart was beating rapidly, and my legs were all wobbly.
“I-I just wanted,” I stammered. “I mean, we have to have dessert, don’t we? Unless you planned for something else.”
Taking the basket of brownies from me, he set it on his lap.
“Better hang up your jacket,” he said before heading for the kitchen.
The family room showed signs of his kids being here. There was a backpack on the floor, a pair of shoes by the couch, an opened can of Coke on a coaster on the coffee table, and DVD boxes scattered around. Somebody’s sweatshirt was draped over the arm of the leather couch.
“Excuse the mess,” said Luke pouring me a glass of merlot. “Comes with the territory,” he added in a reference to his kids I assumed.
“I kinda like it,” I replied as he handed me the wine. “Gives the place a lived-in look.”
He had prepared a big colorful salad to go with the pizza. Red and yellow bell peppers were mixed in with romaine lettuce, mushrooms, and tomatoes. It sat on the kitchen table in a big ceramic bowl. Next to it Luke had placed the basket of brownies. I took a seat at the kitchen bar.
“So you think my place is sterile,” he smiled crookedly.
“I didn’t say that,” I chuckled. “But maybe you are a little OCD.”
“I didn’t used to be.”
Being married to Christina would have changed that I thought. Or maybe just growing up and becoming a father had been the inspiration.
“No,” I agreed smiling back at him and sipping my wine. “You were kind of a slob in school. An adorable one of course.”
“Well I learned the hard way clutter and wheels don’t mix.”
Of course.
“Makes sense,” I said.
“But I’m still adorable, right?” he asked rolling his chair closer to me and surreptitiously cupping my denim-clad crotch.
As he gently massaged between my legs I squirmed a little and squeezed his hand with my thighs.
“Very much so,” I said catching my breath and enjoying myself.
“You know you might be little OCD yourself,” Luke suggested.
“Can’t be. Cats. They run the house. Toys everywhere.”
I came off the bar stool and sat in Luke’s lap.
“I’d like to meet these creatures of yours,” he said.
But they hated going anywhere and he couldn’t climb the stairs.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured nibbling his earlobe before moving to his mouth.
The garage door opening ended our miniature make-out session and I quickly collected myself. A minute later Luke’s youngest, TJ, preoccupied with some kind of hand-held video game came into the kitchen, and behind him were the two girls, Kimberly and Patricia. One of them carried a large pizza box. Although I knew all of Luke’s children by their photographs, the girls were close in age and resembled each other and I was scared to make a mistake with their names, so I waited to be formally introduced. The last one in was Luke Jr. who carried two more large pizza boxes.
“Gang, this is Rachel,” Luke introduced me and pointing to each one of the kids he listed their names. “That’s TJ, Pattie, Kim, and Lucas.”
We exchanged hi’s and hey’s, and I thought about shaking their hands but decided that was really just too formal.
“Nice to meet you, Rachel,” Lucas said pleasantly.
“Yeah,” added Kim. “Dad talks about you all the time.”
“Well I hope he’s kind,” I replied nervously, realizing that that sounded dumb as soon as I said it.
In their various pictures I had been able to see the combination of Luke and Christina’s genes on display, but seeing them in person provided a whole new level of revelation. They were really good-looking kids. Pattie and Lucas had their father’s height, while Kim was a little shorter, and either TJ hadn’t had his growth spurt yet or he was going to be shorter too like his mother.
“Okay, everybody,” instructed Luke. “Get washed up so we can eat. TJ, sign-off from Space Station Zebra or whatever.”
TJ rolled his eyes but obeyed, and the younger kids left the room. Lucas was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. I headed to the powder room. Once I was safely behind a closed door, I consoled myself that it hadn’t gone too badly so far, Mommy’s admonitions notwithstanding. No one had snarled at me and Lucas had actually smiled warmly. It was kind of funny that the junior would be called by the proper name, but my guess was that he was too old now to be a junior, and there had to be some way to distinguish the son from the father. I liked it.
When we were all back in the kitchen Lucas gave me the menu run down.
“We got pepperoni, cheese, and some kind of vegan thing on cardboard.”
“It’s really good, Luke Jr.,” said Pattie.
“Okay, good for you anyway,” conceded Lucas.
“Dad made a salad,” added Kim.
“And Rachel made brownies,” Luke announced.
Lucas put a slice of pepperoni on Luke’s plate and passed it to him.
“Did you really make’em yourself?” TJ scoffed.
Pattie elbowed him sharply before I could answer.
“What?” he demanded. “Anybody can go to a bakery.”
“What’s the difference, TJ?” Kim replied. “They’re brownies, okay.”
“If she’s showing off I want to know if it’s real.”
Pattie gasped.
“That’s enough, TJ,” said Luke, his voice even but firm.
Josephine Garner “Yes, I baked them, TJ,” I said as lightly as I could. “With extra chocolate chips.”
“In brownies?” replied TJ. “What for?”
“TJ—” began Luke.
“I like extra chocolate,” I quickly interjected with a smile.
I took a slice of the cheese pizza before joining Luke at the kitchen table.
“Yeah,” reiterated Pattie. “Everybody likes extra chocolate.”
“Rachel, is this your wine?” asked Kim bringing me my glass.
“Thanks,” I said.
Lucas sat at the table with me and Luke, and Kim, Pattie, and TJ sat at the bar. It was all very informal and probably a far cry from yesterday’s dinner at their grandparents’ house. I supposed three large pizzas wasn’t really a lot when you were feeding six people. Pretty soon the food had worked its magic and any obvious tension disappeared into general conversations mostly about Black Friday mall shopping, what movies the kids wanted to see, and high school news. My brownies were a hit too. Pattie declared that they were the best she had ever had to which TJ made kissing sounds, drawing him stern looks from everybody but me. I didn’t mind it so much because by that time he had already eaten three.
Admittedly I had eventually donned my counseling cap: asking open-ended questions with appropriate follow-up, and waiting to let the family talk amongst themselves with me as an observer. It was just easier. I was after all the outsider; it was unreasonable to expect them to embrace me over the first dinner. My primary goal for the evening was to have
them not hate me, and except for TJ, it seemed like I was doing okay.
After dinner, I helped Kim clean-up, while everyone else settled themselves in the family room for DVD movies.
“It’s okay, I got it,” Kim said as I was bringing dirty plates to the kitchen sink.
“No problem,” I replied.
Failing to consider what it might look like to her, I went to a lower cupboard for the aluminum foil to wrap up the left-over pizza. Kim stopped loading the dishwasher and her expression indicated that I may have made a mistake showing her that I knew my way around her father’s kitchen.
“Have you and my dad been dating long?” she asked quietly.
I wasn’t sure what to tell her.
“We’re good friends,” I answered a little evasively although honestly.
“Since college, right?” she asked.
I nodded. So Luke had told them something about our past.
“I’m glad for him,” she said and resumed loading the dishwasher. “It’s good to have friends.”
It would be hard seeing me, a stranger, in what had probably been her mother’s place, although not in this house. In all those family photos everyone looked so happy. Then their world had been turned upside down—literally—and it had all come apart. What could Christina have said to help her children understand why she would divorce their father when he had needed her most? Kim probably knew some of those private admissions; maybe they all did; only I was on the outside with no obvious way in.
But then I had my own private life with Luke, and while it was not as important as what they shared with him, it was older, and in spite of being left for dead it had nevertheless survived to see a new day.
“It is good,” I agreed with Kim. “I hope we’ll be friends too,” I dared.
She met my eyes. Although Kim had more of her mother’s face, she did have her father’s intense gaze, and I worried that I might have gone too far; but then she said, “Me too,” and smiled.
By the time Kim and I finished in the kitchen the big screen TV was blaring some action film wherein lots of buildings blow-up and lots of people get killed but nothing was ever irrevocably destroyed, and inevitably there would be a happy ending. The good guys were completely good and good-looking, the bad guys categorically bad and ugly too.
Luke patted a spot on the sofa to his right and I sat down beside him. Pattie sat to his left, scooted in close, although she was totally engrossed in her smart phone. TJ was sprawled out on a blanket on the floor, glancing up at the television but mostly playing his video game. Lucas had taken a call on his cell phone and was out in the garage. Kim sat down on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet up under her and began filing her nails.
“What’s the storyline?” I asked deciding to try to follow the movie.
“See that guy right there,” explained Luke. “He’s going to save the world.”
“Dad!” complained Pattie. “You’re gonna spoil the ending.”
“Yeah right,” Luke replied.
When he placed his arm around my shoulders, I saw Pattie and Kim exchange looks.
“Keep it PG please,” said TJ from the floor.
“Chaperones,” grumbled Luke, pulling me closer.
Friday night’s dinner date appeared to be a success. At least that was what I gathered from Luke when we talked the next day, and he invited me to join them for dinner that evening.
“But it’s your last night together,” I said. “It’s family time. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“Got a better offer I see,” he speculated.
“No!” I insisted. “No, of course not. Come on, Luke. I just don’t want to crowd you guys that’s all.”
Suddenly he switched his cell phone to speaker.
“So gang,” Luke spoke to whoever was with him. “Rachel needs a group invitation. So on three…One…Two…Three.”
There was a cacophony of shouting voices inviting me to dinner and then laughter. I was mortified.
“Okay, Miss Cunningham,” said Luke. “We’re waiting. What’s it gonna be?”
“Okay, okay,” I had to laugh too. “I’d love to come.”
“Then it’s settled,” declared Luke. “Come to the house at six.”
“Got it. Can I bring anything?”
He had switched off the speaker function.
“If I tell you no,” he replied. “What good will it do? But we will be eating out.”
“Dress code?” I asked. “Jeans okay?”
“The ones you had on last night would be perfect.”
“Wicked man,” I giggled, recalling the little episode of massage therapy yesterday.
Once again I arrived at Luke’s house a few minutes early, but this time I was wearing a below-the-knee denim skirt and fashion boots. It seemed like a good idea to show a little flair for style, and my stepped-up fitness regime had led to a smaller waist around which a broad leather belt looked pretty good. It wasn’t the jeans that he had suggested, but Luke’s smile told me that he approved.
The dinner destination was Chili’s. The six of us couldn’t fit easily or safely into Luke’s Mercedes sedan even with stowing his wheelchair in the trunk. When they had all lived together, Lucas explained, out of necessity the family vehicles had been SUVs and minivans. Consequently, it was decided that tonight I would take my car too, and Lucas volunteered to ride with me.
When it came to my Corolla I may have been more OCD about the mechanics of it than the cleanliness of it. I never missed a scheduled oil change, but the car wash was a place I visited about twice year. I wasn’t sloppy when it came to the interior, but I could have certainly done better, so I was a little embarrassed when Lucas had to move tissue boxes and Starbucks’ lid stoppers out of the way to sit down. Mostly my only passenger was Mommy on Sundays and even she frequently complained that my car was too small. I had never driven Luke anywhere, and I wondered if his wheelchair would even fit in the backseat.
“Dad drives a little fast,” Lucas said as we watched Luke back out of the driveway. “Hope you aren’t counting on following him.”
Fortunately as a precaution I had pre-programmed my portable GPS with the restaurant’s address.
“I know,” I replied confidently. “But not to worry. I always have my Garmin.”
“Sweet,” said Lucas.
As predicted, Luke got away from us by the second traffic light when I wouldn’t run the yellow.
“Wanna listen to the radio?” I offered as a way to make conversation as we drove along.
“No, that’s okay,” replied Lucas.
Garmin’s electronic female voice told me turn right in “.9 miles”.
“I meant to ask you last night,” I began again. “What’s your major?”
“Chemistry,” answered Lucas.
Another brainiac, I thought, just like his dad. He really looked like his dad too. Luke’s firstborn. My baby would have been older. Would he have looked like Luke? Or like the maternal grandfather he could never know? Luke’s kids were rooted in proud generations on both sides. Any child of mine could never have a complete history.
“The Sterling men are really quite brilliant, aren’t they?” I said snatching a quick glance at Lucas to smile at him.
“The verdict’s not in on TJ yet,” replied Lucas with a good-natured chuckle which I shared.
As we merged onto the interstate, I wondered if Luke realized he had lost us.
“So you knew my dad back in college,” Lucas spoke again after a time.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling at the memory. “We met in an English Lit class. Can you imagine it, your dad studying romantic poetry? Of course he always said that your grandmother made him take the class. Although I really think he wound up in the class because he had a hole in his schedule and a requirement to fill.”
“And that’s how you got to be friends?”
I nodded.
“Yes. I saved him from William Blake. He rescued me from P values and Chi Squ
ares.”
“Sounds strategic.”
“It did work out for both of us, I guess,” I agreed almost wistfully. “Of course your dad was always pretty smart regardless. He graduated summa cum laude. Did you know that?”
“So did you.”
Looking away from the road ahead, I glanced again at Lucas.
“He told you about that?” I asked.
“He talks about you a lot,” replied Lucas. “He must have been gaga over you in college.”
My palms were damp as I gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
“We were very good friends,” I said quietly.
“More than that,” declared Lucas. “You were like his college sweetheart or something. That’s why it’s so cool you guys getting back together after all these years. It’s like a movie or something.”
Was this Christina’s son saying this to me? Actually endorsing his mother’s bridesmaid taking his mother’s place? I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry your folks got divorced, Lucas,” I offered, meaning it for the children’s sakes. “It must have been difficult to see them breakup.”
“I know you have to say that,” he replied simply, reminding me of his father again. “But it was a long time coming. I guess when Dad got hurt they just couldn’t fake it anymore.”
Once more I glanced at Lucas. Was he about to tell me what had happened? Professionally I shouldn’t let him, since it would compromise Luke’s privacy; plus we weren’t that far from the restaurant now so there wouldn’t be sufficient time to process it if things got emotional.
“Is that what your dad said?” I asked anyway.
“No way,” Lucas replied. “You know how he is. Sure he talks a lot. Got advice for everybody. But he’s kind of a black box when it comes to talking about his own problems and nobody’s got the code. Mostly I figured it out for myself.”
Walk on Water Page 19
