“It’s okay. It’s part of having a kid.”
Vito sighed. “I guess it is, but I wasn’t ready for it. I never know if I’m doing the right thing or not.”
“You’re doing a good job. Really good.” She smiled up at him.
“Thanks. I don’t feel so sure.”
Just like the other night, their eyes caught and held for a beat too long.
Charlie burst into the room in sock feet and stood, hands on hips. “I’m here, but I ain’t apologizing and I ain’t helping.” He lifted his chin and glared at Vito as if daring him to exert his authority as a father.
Vito opened his mouth to speak, but Lacey’s heart went out to the hurting little boy, and she held up a hand. “Let me talk to him,” she said, and walked over to Charlie. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it? But that paint came right off and it won’t be a problem.”
“So?”
In every stiff line of his body she read a need for a mother’s comfort. “Hey,” she said, putting an arm around him, “I’m glad you’re here and I think this is going to be a great room for you. You can help decorate it.”
For a second Charlie relaxed against her, but then he went stiff again and stepped away, his face red. “That’s what you said about the paint, and then I got this baby color!” He waved a hand at the nearest wall.
“Oh, honey—”
“Don’t call me that! Only my real mom can call me that!”
“Charlie...” Vito said in a warning voice, approaching the two of them.
“She doesn’t have any kids! She’s not a mom, so why is she acting like one?”
The words rang in Lacey’s ears.
It was true. She wasn’t a mom, and Charlie, with a child’s insight, had seen right into the dream inside her head. On some barely conscious level she’d been pretending that Charlie was her child and Vito was her husband, and it had to stop.
Slowly, she backed away from Charlie just as Vito reached him.
“I want you to apologize to Miss Lacey,” Vito said firmly.
“I’m not apologizing!” Tears ran down Charlie’s reddened face, but he ignored them, frowning fiercely and thrusting his chest out.
“Charlie.” Vito put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Don’t you touch me! You’re not my real dad. And you’re ugly, too!” Charlie ran from the room.
Vito’s hand went to his scarred face for just a moment, and then he followed Charlie.
Even in the middle of her own hurt feelings, Lacey wanted to comfort him, to tell him he wasn’t ugly.
But that was exactly the problem. She wasn’t the mom of the family. She wasn’t the wife.
She never would play that role, and she needed to stop pretending and accept the truth.
Chapter Six
“Let’s see if we can scare up a basketball game at the park,” Vito said to Charlie the next day after lunch.
“Yeah!” Charlie dropped his handheld game and jumped up.
Vito laughed. He was still getting used to the time frame of an eight-year-old. “In ten minutes, okay? I have to clean up our dishes and make a phone call.”
Vito had planned to spend Saturday setting up Charlie’s room and looking for jobs online. But Charlie’s behavior the previous day had changed his mind. Vito was no expert, but it seemed to him that Charlie needed structure, and chores, and attention. So they’d spent the morning weeding the gardens around the guesthouse, and with a little prodding Charlie had worked hard. He’d even taken a glass of lemonade to Lacey, who was sanding woodwork in the breakfast room, and Vito had heard her talk cheerfully to Charlie, which was a relief. Apparently, she wasn’t holding a grudge against Charlie for yesterday’s behavior.
So, amends made, Vito and Charlie half walked, half jogged to the park together, bouncing a basketball. Lawn mowers and weed eaters roared, filling the air with the pungent fragrance of vegetation, and several people called greetings from flower beds and front yards. Things weren’t much different than when Vito himself had been eight, growing up here.
The call he’d made had been to Troy Hinton, an old acquaintance whose son, Xavier, was just Charlie’s age. Troy and Xavier met them by the basketball courts at the park, and immediately, the boys ran out onto the blacktop to play. Vito and Troy sat down on a bench to watch.
Xavier played well for an eight-year-old, making a few baskets, dribbling without too much traveling. Charlie, though, was on fire, making well more than half of the shots he took. Paternal pride warmed Vito’s chest. He’d make sure Charlie tried out for the school team as soon as he got to sixth grade.
“That’s a good thing you’re doing, fostering him,” Troy said, nodding toward Charlie. “He seems like he’s settling in fine.”
That reminded Vito of yesterday, and he shook his head. “A few bumps in the road.”
“Yeah?” Troy bent down to flick a piece of dirt off his leg.
“I think he misses his mom. He sees her once a week, but that’s hard on a kid.”
“Any chance of her getting him back?”
Vito shook his head. “No. Supervised visits is all.”
“Gotcha.” Troy was watching the two boys play.
Even at eight, Charlie used his elbows and threw a few too many shoves.
“Charlie!” Vito called.
When Charlie looked over, Vito just shook his head. Charlie’s mouth twisted, and then he nodded.
“We talked about sportsmanship this morning. I don’t know why he thinks he can play street ball here, in the park.”
Troy chuckled. “It’s a process. And Xavier’s holding his own.” Indeed, the boy did some fancy footwork and stole the ball from Charlie.
Which was impressive, considering Xavier’s background. “How’s his health?”
“Almost two years cancer-free.”
“That’s great.” Although Vito had been overseas, he’d heard from Nonna about the careworn single mom who’d come to town to work at Troy’s dog rescue, bringing her son who was struggling with leukemia. Now Troy and Angelica were married, with another child, and it was great to know that Xavier was healthy and strong.
“He’s doing so well that we can’t keep up with him in the summer. So we’ve got him in a weekday program here at the park. Six hours a day, lots of activity. Charlie should join.”
“Well...” Vito thought about it. “That’s tempting, but Charlie has a few issues.”
“People who run it are good with issues. And you should also bring him to the Kennel Kids.” Troy explained the program for at-risk boys, helping once a week at the dog rescue farm Troy operated.
Vito had to thank God for how things were working out here in Rescue River. It was a great place to raise kids. “Sounds perfect, if you’ve got a space for him.”
“Might have one for you, too. I could use a little help.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Vito joked, but truthfully, he was glad to be asked. Vito liked dogs, and Troy. And most of all, he wanted to do positive things for Charlie, and with him. “Sure thing. I can help out.”
The boys came running over, panting, and grabbed water bottles to chug.
“You guys should come play!” Charlie said, looking from Vito to Troy.
“Aw, Dad’s too tired.” Xavier bounced the basketball hard so it went back up higher than his head.
“Who says?” Troy got to his feet and grinned at Vito. “Hintons against D’Angelos, what do you say?”
“I’m not a D’Angelo,” Charlie protested.
“But you’re going to be, pretty soon.” Vito stood, too, and ruffled Charlie’s hair. “Meanwhile, let’s show these Hintons how it’s done.”
After an hour of play that left them all breathless and sweating, Troy and Xavier invited Charli
e to come out to the farm for a few hours, and Vito agreed. It was good for Charlie to make friends.
But that left Vito with a hole in his day. He’d finished the preliminary work for his online courses, and the term didn’t start for another week. Nonna was spending the day visiting at the Senior Towers.
He thought of Troy Hinton, married, raising two kids, the town veterinarian and dog rescue owner, volunteering with the Kennel Kids. What was Vito contributing by comparison? And Troy had a big property to handle, a place for kids to run, while Vito was living in two rooms.
He walked through the park, feeling uncharacteristically blue. There was a soccer game going on, a coed team of kids a little younger than Charlie, and Vito stopped to watch. The game wasn’t too serious. Parents chatted with each other in the bleachers while coaches hollered instructions, mostly encouraging rather than overly competitive. Nearby, a family with a new baby sat on a blanket, cheering on their kids who were playing while cuddling with toddlers who looked like twins.
Vito wanted that. Wanted a family, a large family. It was in his blood.
Suddenly, someone tapped his shoulder, and he turned to see Lacey and another woman, pretty, dark-haired, with Asian features.
“Hi!” the dark-haired woman said, holding out a hand. “I’m Susan Hinton. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
What did that mean? He shook Susan’s hand and shot a glance at Lacey. Her cheeks were pink. What had she been telling Susan?
“Vito D’Angelo,” he supplied, since Lacey seemed to be tongue-tied. “It’s a pleasure. Are you related to Troy?”
“Sure am. I’m married to his brother, Sam.”
“I know Sam. Sorry to have missed the wedding.” He’d been invited, but he’d been in the thick of his surgery at that point.
“Mindy could score,” Lacey said, gesturing toward the soccer game. She looked like a teenager, dressed in cutoffs and a soft blue T-shirt. Her short blond hair lifted and tossed in the breeze, and Vito liked that she didn’t glue it down with hair spray.
He felt an urge to brush back a strand that had fallen into her eyes, but that would be completely inappropriate. They weren’t that kind of friends.
“C’mon, Mindy, go for it!” Susan yelled, and the little girl in question kicked the ball hard, making a goal. “Good job!”
“Susan’s a teacher,” Lacey said when the hubbub had died down. “She might have some good ideas about your career change.”
“You’re switching over to teaching?” Susan asked. “What age of kids?”
“I like the little ones,” Vito admitted. “Seems like elementary teachers make a big difference.”
“And we need more men in the profession,” Susan said promptly. “Are you planning to stay local?”
“If I can find work.”
Susan opened her mouth as if she were going to ask another question, but a shout interrupted her. Mindy, the child who’d scored a goal, ran over, accompanied by two little girls about the same age. “Did you see, Mama, did you see?”
“I saw.” Susan hugged the little girl close. “You’re getting better every day.”
Vito was watching the pair, so it took a minute for him to become aware that the other two girls were staring up at him.
“What happened to the side of your face?” one of them asked.
“He looks mean,” said the other little girl.
The remarks shouldn’t have stung—he’d known that was how kids would feel, hadn’t he?—but they did, anyway.
“Cheyenne! Shelby!” Susan spun and squatted right in front of the other two girls. “You know it’s not polite to make personal remarks about someone’s appearance.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Hayashi,” one of them said right away.
“It’s Mrs. Hinton, dummy,” the other said. “Don’t you know she got married?”
Susan put a hand on each girl’s shoulder. “First of all, it’s more important to be... Do you remember what?”
“More important to be polite than right,” the two and little Mindy chorused.
“And furthermore, Shelby,” Susan said sternly, “this gentleman got those injuries serving our country, and you will show him the respect he deserves.”
Vito didn’t know which felt worse: being told how bad he looked by a second-gradeish little girl, or being defended by a woman approximately half his size. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, squatting down, too, making sure his better half was turned toward the girls. “It can be a surprise to see somebody who looks different.”
Mindy shoved in front of him. “I’m glad he looks different. Different is cool.” She reached up and unhooked something from her back and then started fumbling with her arm.
“Don’t take it off! Don’t take it off!” the other two girls screamed, sounding more excited than upset.
At which point Vito realized that Mindy had a prosthetic arm, which she seemed set on removing.
Other kids ran in their direction, no doubt attracted by the screams. Vito stood and glanced at Lacey, who gave him a palms up that clearly said she had no idea how to handle the situation.
“Mindy!” Susan’s voice was stern, all teacher. “Don’t you dare take off that arm. You know the rules.”
Mindy’s forehead wrinkled, and she and Susan glared at each other. Then, slowly, Mindy twisted something back into place and let go of her prosthetic. “I just wanted to show them that everybody’s different, and that’s okay,” she said sulkily.
Susan knelt and hugged her. “That was a very kind impulse. Now, why don’t you girls get back on the field? I think the second half is starting.”
Vito took a step back. “Hey, it was nice meeting you,” he said to Susan.
“Vito—” Lacey sounded worried.
“Got to go. See you later.” What he really needed to do was to be alone. Today’s little scene had hammered the truth home to him: he couldn’t work with kids in person. His appearance would create a ruckus that would interfere with their learning.
The trouble was he liked kids. And interacting with them through a computer screen just didn’t have the same appeal.
* * *
Lacey looked from where Susan was ushering the little girls back into the soccer game, toward the path where Vito was walking away, shoulders slumped.
“I’m headed home,” she called to Susan, and then took off after Vito. She couldn’t stand what she’d just seen.
He was walking fast enough that she was out of breath by the time she got within earshot. “Vito, wait!”
He turned around to wait for her.
“Where are you going? Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’m going for a walk, and I’m fine.” His words were uncharacteristically clipped.
“Mind if I come?” She started walking beside him, sure of her welcome. After all, this was Vito. He was always glad to see her.
“Actually...” He walked slowly, glanced over at her. “Look, I’m not fit company. Go on back and hang out with Susan.”
She gave him a mock glare. “No way! You hung out with me plenty when I wasn’t fit company. I’m just returning the favor to an old friend.”
He started to say something, then closed his mouth, and mortification sent heat up Lacey’s neck. She was being intrusive. It was one of her flaws, according to Gerry, and she half expected Vito to bite her head off.
But he didn’t speak and his face wasn’t angry. They walked quietly for a few minutes, past the high school. The fragrance of new-mown grass tickled Lacey’s nose. From somewhere, she smelled meat grilling, a summer barbecue.
“Where are you headed?” she repeated, because he hadn’t answered. “Can I tag along?” Then she worried she’d pushed too far.
“I’m going to the river. To think.” He gave her shoul
ders a quick squeeze. “And sure, you can come. Sorry to be such a bear.”
So she followed him down a little path between the grasses and trees and they emerged on the riverbank. As if by agreement, they both stopped, looking at the sunlight glinting off the water, hearing the wind rustle through the weeping willow trees overhead.
“I’m sorry that happened back there,” she said. “That must be hard to deal with, especially...” She trailed off.
“Especially what?”
“Especially when you were always so handsome.”
He laughed, shaking his head at the same time. “Oh, Lace. My biggest fan.”
She had been, too. In fact, as a younger teen, she’d dreamed of a day when she’d be older, with clear skin and actual curves, and Vito would ask her out. A visceral memory flashed into her mind: lying on the floor of her bedroom, feet propped up on a footstool and CD player blasting out a sad love song, which in her fourteen-year-old brain she’d applied to herself and Vito’s lost love.
“You were the best looking of all the guys in your class,” she said. “Everyone said so.”
He didn’t deny it, exactly, but he waved a dismissive hand. “A lot of good it did me. I could barely get a date.”
That had to be an exaggeration; she remembered plenty of girls noticing him. But it was true, he hadn’t dated as much as you’d expect of a boy with his looks. “You were too nice. You weren’t a player.”
He laughed. “That’s true, I never got that down.” They turned and strolled along the river’s grassy bank. “Now I look mean, like the little girl said. Maybe I should cultivate a mean persona to match. I’d get all the girls.”
“As if that’s going to happen.” Lacey couldn’t imagine Vito being mean. It just wasn’t in his nature. “Is that what you want, Vito? All the girls?”
He gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Not all. But I’d like to get married, start a family, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“Is that why you’re adopting Charlie?”
He lifted a shoulder and looked away. “That’s part of it.”
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