by Lisa Jordan
Hannah rolled her eyes and made an “I’m so not amused”
face. “Funny.”
Josie bowed. “I’m here every Thursday.”
“Yeah. Yeah. And don’t forget to tip your servers, right?” Hannah pulled vegetables out of the refrigerator, cradled them and closed the door with her foot.
“Hey, they have to make a living, too.” Josie rinsed the colander she used to drain the pasta and set it next to the sink for Hannah.
“You’re not making dumb jokes all through dinner, are you?” Hannah washed the vegetables gently and placed them in the colander.
“I’m hurt.” Josie filled the sink with sudsy water and washed the dirty pots and pans, laying them on a dish towel to dry.
“Whatev.”
She wiped down the stovetop and counters, moving the round-bellied ceramic chef that held her cooking utensils. “Is the English language becoming so exhausting that people can’t even finish complete words?”
“Mo-om.”
She dried her hands and caressed her daughter’s pale cheek with her thumb. “In all seriousness, sweetie, hair doesn’t make a person beautiful.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s what’s inside that counts.”
“Do you remember what we read during yesterday’s breakfast devotional?” She ignored the guilt that gnawed about skipping devotions this morning.
“Something about how we look at outer appearances, but God looks at the heart.”
“Right, so you need to quit worrying about how you look and remember what’s inside does count.”
“I’m sure God wasn’t bald, though.” Hannah touched her hat. “What’s for dinner?”
So like Hannah not to be a permanent guest at her own pity party.
“Baked ziti with sausage.” Josie diced tomatoes and onions, then mixed in pressed garlic.
Hannah dried the separated Romaine leaves and tore them into small pieces into a salad bowl. “Are you making bruschetta?”
“Yep.” She sniffed back tears from dicing the onion.
“What’s for dessert?”
“Gelato in pizzelle cones.” Josie minced basil before adding it to the rest of the vegetables.
“Wow, Mom, either you’re in big trouble or tonight’s really special. What’s with making all of Grandpa’s favorites?”
“You’re being silly. I’m just making dinner.”
“Pizzelle cones are saved for birthdays. And it’s no one’s birthday.” Hannah crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. Why don’t you set the table and stop bugging me?” Josie snapped her gently with the dish towel.
“You’re sucking up.”
“I am not.” She was. But to whom? Her dad? Or Nick?
Hannah shrugged. “I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Table.” Josie pointed toward the dining room with her knife.
“Fine. I’m going. How many plates?”
Josie did a mental count in her head. “Nine. Grab a folding chair from the closet, too, would you?”
“Aye, aye.” Hannah saluted and headed for the dining room. She paused, turned back to Josie with a scowl marring her sweet features. “Nine? Wait a minute. Who’s all coming?”
“Grandpa, Grandma Grace, Nonno, Aunt Lindsey, Uncle Stephen, Tyler, You, Me.” Josie ticked the names off with her fingers.
Hannah held up eight fingers. “That’s eight. Who’s the last one for?”
Nick.
Josie cringed and swallowed a sigh. She meant to talk to Hannah sooner, but started cooking and forgot. And now she had to spring it on her shortly before Nick was due to arrive. Really scoring points now.
Josie pushed away from the counter and pulled out one of the stools from the island. “Sit for a minute, sweetie, we have to talk.”
“What’s wrong?” Hannah’s face paled to the color of cooked pasta. She dug at the purple nail polish on her thumb. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry.” Josie cupped Hannah’s chin. “Nothing’s wrong. Not really. In fact, what I have to tell you could be an answer to our prayers.”
Hannah climbed on the stool and hooked her feet under the rungs.
Josie grabbed Hannah’s hands and squeezed. “Listen, kiddo, I’ve been open and honest with you from the day we learned about your leukemia, so I’m going to give it to you straight.” She blinked away sudden pressure behind her eyes. She needed to stay strong for Hannah. “I’m not a match. Neither is Grandpa or Nonno.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “You’re still looking for your mother, right?”
“I am, sweetie, but I haven’t seen her in over twenty years. I promise not to give up, though.”
Hannah dropped her gaze to her fingers and continued to pick the remaining nail polish off her fingers. “So now what? Am I going to die?”
Josie cradled Hannah against her chest. “Oh, baby. Not anytime soon, if I can help it.”
“So what do we do now? Wait for a match through the donor program?” The fear in Hannah’s voice sliced through Josie’s heart.
“There’s one other option we can try.” Josie blew out a breath. “This is harder than I thought.”
Hannah pulled back, tilted her head and eyed Josie warily. “What is? Just tell me. I can take it.”
Josie searched Hannah’s eyes—eyes like Nick’s. Could she take it? Her daughter was a fighter. But this…well, only one way to find out. “I love you very much and will do whatever it takes to make you healthy again. We’re going to beat this. When I learned I wasn’t a match, I had to find your father.”
Hannah stared at her, then whispered, “You found…my d-dad?”
Josie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Where was he? How did you find him? What does he do? What’s he like? Did you talk to him? Is he cute?” A sparkle twinkled in her daughter’s brown eyes.
“Cute? Seriously? You remember a long time ago when you asked me about him?”
“Yes, you said he didn’t want us.”
“That’s what I thought at the time. Turns out he didn’t know about you. And talk about being surprised. We talked things out. His mother chose not to tell him that I wanted to get in touch about you.”
“Why would she do that?” Hannah grabbed an orange from the ceramic bowl in the middle of the island and tossed it from hand to hand.
“Sweetie, sometimes grown-ups make poor choices. She must’ve felt she was doing the right thing by not telling Nick.” Josie couldn’t help but wonder what her motives were, but she’d never find out. If only she could take back her words from their conversation yesterday. In her defense, she didn’t know he had lost his mother.
“When did you talk to him?”
“He came into Cuppa Josie’s last night as I was closing.” Josie removed the orange from Hannah’s hands and returned it to the bowl.
“Then what happened?”
“I told him about you, the leukemia and the bone marrow transplant. He promised to get tested.” No need to mention Nick’s ludicrous marriage proposal.
“He did? Do you think…” Hannah’s voice trailed off as she chipped away more polish.
Josie tilted up Hannah’s chin. “Do I think what?”
“Do you think he’ll like me?” Hannah’s eyes filled with tears.
Josie gathered her in her arms. “Oh, baby, how could he not?”
“I’m not exactly pretty.” A tear slid down her cheek.
Josie brushed it away with her thumb and choked back her own emotions. “Oh, honey, you are absolutely gorgeous.”
“You have to say that because you’re my mom.” Hannah sniffed.
Josie cupped Hannah’s chin. “I say that because it’s the truth. And Nick thinks so, too.”
Hannah wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “He said that? How does he know?”
“I gave him a picture. Plus, he came to see you last night but you were asleep.”
“I can’t beli
eve this.” The corner of Hannah’s lip lifted—another Nick trait. “I finally have a dad.”
The smile that brightened her face almost made Josie feel guilty for not looking for Nick sooner. Almost.
“Sweetie, listen. I’m not going to push you to have anything to do with him unless you’re ready. Take your time to get to know him.”
“Are you kidding? This is, like, the coolest thing ever! I can’t wait to tell Ashley.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? I’m so sorry to spring this on you at the last minute.”
“Mom, it’s cool.” She gave Josie a quick peck on the cheek.
The doorbell rang. So much for freshening up. She didn’t even have dinner completely ready. “Grab that, would you? It’s probably Grandpa and Grandma Grace.”
Hannah slid off the stool and headed for the door. Josie returned to the counter and reached for the bread knife to slice the ciabatta bread when she heard Hannah say, “So you must be my dad.”
*
Words escaped Nick as he stared into brown eyes that mirrored his own. She looked a lot different than she had last night curled in a ball, hugging a purple alligator. Or this morning at the coffee shop with her nose buried in a book. And she was his daughter. His breath escaped his chest as if kicked in the gut.
“Yes, apparently so.” Great line, man. Get in the game. He tightened his grip on the wrapped bouquet of pink-and-white tulips he bought at the Forget-Me-Not floral shop across the street from Josie’s coffee place.
Cocking her head, she gave him a once-over. “You were at Mom’s shop this morning.”
“Right.” Another pithy line. “And you are Hannah.”
“If not, I’ve been living here by mistake.” Her lopsided smile created a dimple in her cheek. His breath caught in his chest.
Her mother’s quirky sense of humor.
“You’re just as pretty as your mom.”
A pink blush added color to her cheeks. She ran a hand over her hat. “Thanks.”
He shoved a hand in his coat pocket and nodded toward the house. “May I come in?”
“Yeah, sure. Sorry.” Hannah stood back and held the door while he entered. “Are those flowers for my mom?”
“Yes, they are. I brought you something, too.” Nick handed her a pink gift bag with a ballerina on the front. “I hope this is okay.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. What does a guy buy for a kid he didn’t know? Guess he needed to find out, considering he had years of gifts to make up for.
Scents coming from the kitchen forced his senses to wake up and pay attention. His stomach rumbled.
Hannah pulled a purple journal out of the bag.
“Thank you. I love it.” Her dimple reappeared again as she smiled and ran a finger over the daisy in the corner of the cover. “Purple is my favorite color.”
He’d guessed that from the purple in her room, the alligator she cradled and the purple “Princess in Training” long-sleeved T-shirt she wore. And the hat on her head.
He winked at her. Her smile warmed places in his heart he didn’t know existed. Is this how it felt to be a dad?
“Nick. You’re early.”
Nick swung his gaze from his daughter to her mother standing in the doorway with a dish towel in her hands. Was that censure in Josie’s voice?
He crossed the room and held out the flowers. “Here, these are for you.” Did she still like tulips? During their first date, she had mentioned they were her favorite flower, so he sent her a bouquet a few days later. But that was over ten years ago.
“You didn’t have to bring us anything.” Josie buried her face in the blooms and inhaled. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”
The flowers weren’t the only lovely things in the room. He’d have to be blind not to appreciate the way her jeans and white sweater flattered her figure. He fisted his hand in his pocket to avoid reaching up and undoing the clip that held her hair. He wanted to see it spilling over her shoulders again.
Don’t go there, man.
“I hope it’s not a problem. Me being early, I mean. I had more time than I expected. Can I do something to help?” Instead of standing here babbling like an idiot.
Josie shook her head, unleashing a stray curl. She tucked it behind her ear and gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Coffee?” She turned and headed for the kitchen.
“Iced tea would be great, thanks.”
He glanced at the taupe leather sofa, but his attention shifted to the gallery of black-framed photos lining the wall.
Hannah as an infant. Hannah as a toddler, wearing a ruffly pastel dress and holding a basket. Hannah missing her front teeth. Hannah dressed in a tutu and ballet shoes. A black-and-white portrait of Josie and Hannah.
And he’d missed every single moment.
His jaw tightened. Instead of dwelling on it, he headed for the kitchen where savory scents lingered in the air, teasing his palate. His stomach rumbled.
He had heard the kitchen was the heart of the home, and judging by the papers and magnets littering the front of the refrigerator and books piled at one end of the counter, Josie’s kitchen was just that.
The kind of kitchen—make that home—he didn’t have growing up. No boxed mac and cheese or TV dinners here.
His mother tried, but working two jobs left little time for home-cooked meals.
Josie reached for a clear vase from the cabinet next to the sink. Her sweater rode up, exposing a sliver of pale skin at her waist. Nick averted his eyes.
She filled a vase with water and arranged the tulips, pausing to finger one of the petals. Picking up the vase, she turned. Seeing Nick, she gasped and nearly dropped the flowers. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry.” He took the vase and set it on the island. “I came in to talk to you for a minute.”
“Okay, what’s up?” She opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea.
“I had blood drawn today.”
Josie’s hand froze as she reached for a glass. She dropped her hand and gripped the edge of the counter, her head bowed.
He couldn’t see her face. What was she thinking?
“Josie?” He touched her shoulder.
She shook her head.
Hadn’t she wanted him to get tested? Women. Who could figure them out? Sighing, he plowed a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
She nodded and slowly turned to him, her eyes bright. A tear slid down her cheek, etching a trail to his heart. With a shaky hand, she brushed it away. “I’m sorry. I’m… Thank you. After last night…well, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Look, I was an idiot, okay. I wasn’t trying to give you an ultimatum or anything. Chalk it up to shock, I guess. I’m sorry. I can’t make up the past, but I plan to be a part of Hannah’s present and future. You don’t need to handle this alone.” He ached to draw her to his chest, knowing her head would tuck beneath his chin like perfectly fitted puzzle pieces.
But touching her was dangerous.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and inhaled the vanilla and freshly ground coffee fragrance that clung to her.
The doorbell rang. Josie gave him a nervous smile. She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears and smoothed her sweater. “If you’ll, uh, excuse me, I…uh…should see who that is.”
She hurried out of the room, leaving Nick to follow.
Shoving his hands in his front pockets, he leaned against the mantel, which allowed him full view of the front door. Josie hugged a tanned, silver-haired man and a beautiful woman with short blond hair. Josie’s grandfather stood behind them.
The woman handed her coat to Josie and adjusted a sheer floral-printed scarf around the neck of her yellow sweater. “Smells great, Josie. You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Besides, you and Dad are totally worth it. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Josie
crossed the room and grabbed Nick by the elbow. “Dad, Grace, this is Nick. Nick, this is my father, Max Peretti, and my stepmom, Grace. You met Nonno last night.”
Glad he changed into Dockers and a button-down shirt before leaving the hotel, Nick stepped forward and extended his hand to Josie’s grandfather. “Nice to see you again, sir.”
Josie’s grandfather speared Nick with a narrow-eyed glare, but nodded and shook Nick’s hand, anyway, before shuffling to the worn recliner in the corner of the room.
So much for his approval. Nick turned to the rest of the family. Josie’s stepmom’s quick smile and kind eyes put him at ease. A little. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Peretti.” He held out his hand to Josie’s father. “Mr. Peretti.”
Mr. Peretti gave his hand a firm shake. “Nick. Have we met? You seem familiar.”
Nick cast a sharp glance toward Josie. She stepped forward. “Dad, um, you have met Nick before. You see—”
“Grandpa!” Hannah paused on the stair landing, then rushed down the last three steps before hurling herself at her grandfather. “I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.”
Would Hannah ever react that way with him? Nick extinguished that spark of envy at their tight relationship.
Mr. Peretti engulfed her in a hug. “Hey, Banana. You get prettier every day. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good. Especially now that you and Grandma Grace are back.”
He flicked the brim of her hat. “We were gone just a couple of days.”
“A couple of days feels like forever.” She turned to face Nick. “Did you meet Nick?”
“Yep, just now.” Mr. Peretti smiled at his granddaughter.
“Isn’t it so cool?”
“What is, sweetheart?”
“That Nick is my dad.” Hannah shot him another one of those lopsided smiles he was growing to love.
Mr. Peretti jerked his head from Hannah to Nick to Josie. His eyes narrowed. “Your what?”
Even though he kept his tone even, Hannah’s excitement evaporated as she glanced at each of the adults. “D-didn’t Mom tell you?”
Josie touched Hannah’s shoulders. “I was just about to, but you beat me to it.”
“I’m sorry.” Hannah chipped at her nail polish.
