Ronan (The Casella Cousins Book 6)

by Kathryn Shay

  “I’m forty-three, old for having a baby under any circumstances.”

  “Happens all the time in New York.”

  “Yeah, but I already have a daughter. Those days are over for me.”

  “Are they?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I thought they were. Ronan, a child is hard work. I was twenty-five when I had Taylor, almost two decades ago. I’m not sure I can, or want to do all that again.”

  “I looked it up on the Internet when Hayley got pregnant. You have a long time to decide.”

  “Not really. Not for me. I followed every week of Taylor’s gestation in the pregnancy books. Right now, it’s a few cells. Pretty soon it’ll be the size of a peanut. Then a golf ball and so on. I can’t wait until it truly becomes a baby.”

  “I understand.”

  “So, I’ve given myself this week to decide.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t stay here alone. What if you fell or something? You could bleed to death.”

  “I’ve been alone in this house before.”

  “But you weren’t pregnant and alone.”

  She laughed. “Talk about contradictory reactions.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m a mess over all this, honey.”

  “You are pretty much a mess.” She swiped his face. “I like the scruff, though.”

  “I never knew what women saw in it.”

  Laughter.

  “Ronan, I can’t come back to the lake and live with you. You know what will happen if I do.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “It would affect my decision. Sex with you clouds my mind. Usually in a good way. But now, I need a clear head.”

  “I have an idea. Actually, I already asked her about it.”

  “What? Who?”

  “My aunt Carmella. She and Judd have five bedrooms at their house. You could stay with them. If you don’t mind kids and babies being around all the time.”

  “Well, we work from nine to nine. I’d hardly be there.”

  “Right. And when you are, an adult would be around to make sure you’re well.”

  “Did you tell her I was pregnant?”

  “No, I only told Rafe.”

  “Lisel?”

  “No. You called her?”

  “I didn’t want to leave you high and dry.”

  “Thanks.” His onyx eyes were sincere. “Will you please pack your things and come back with me?” He sighed. “I have to be fair, though. Lisel is on standby, if you want to stay.”

  “No, I’ll go back. And there’s something I didn’t mention. I’m three weeks pregnant.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Our little desk assignation was only days ago.”

  “I know. It must have happened the first night we made love.”

  “We used condoms every time.”

  “I guess they didn’t work.”

  “All that’s water under the proverbial bridge.” He stood. Drew her up. Hugged her tightly. “Get your things together and I’ll phone Carmella to tell her you agreed.”

  * * *

  That night, at practice, the cast seemed confused. “You’re back. How come?” Carina asked.

  “I saw a doctor. Nothing’s wrong. So here I am.”

  “Yay!” Maryann called out. Then, “But we liked Lisel.”

  “Isn’t she a doll?”

  She talked to them to ease their concern, then Ronan called them together. “We’re onto Scene 3. It has dancing in it.”

  “With Lucy and Caroline. Shall I take them to the barre room and you can block with the others?”

  “Good idea.”

  “Come on girls, the steps aren’t complicated.”

  Ronan let her go, hoping she would avoid spins or whirling around. Geez, should she even be dancing now? He had no idea. But he was fearful if he pushed her more, she’d go back to New York.

  They returned in an hour and the actors integrated the song into the scene. Carina flubbed when she first tried to put the dancing into the scene. Maryann squeezed her hand. “You’ll get used to it, Cari. Don’t worry.”

  “I’ll try harder.” She did a respectable performance on the third try so they blocked and practiced the entire scene.

  “Terrific job.” Ronan told them, smiling brightly at the two girls.

  Clapping from way back in the seats. As the lights were bright on stage and off in the house, he couldn’t identify the person. Ronan was irritated. No one was allowed to watch rehearsals. “Who’s there?”

  A figure walked down the aisle, her gate unsteady. When she reached the halfway point, everybody pretty much gasped.

  “Not bad but I can do better. Too bad. You lost out.”

  Eliza descended the steps and met Sabrina in front of the stage. “Sabrina, you’ve been drinking and you’re going to regret being here.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  She reached out to the girl. “Come with me.”

  Sabrina batted her hands away, and swatted at her face.

  As if shocked by what she’d done, Sabrina’s eyes filled.

  Eliza slid an arm around her. “Let’s go to our office, honey.” Sabrina buried her face in Eliza’s shoulder. Eliza glanced at Ronan. “Call her parents.”

  He nodded.

  He watched them go. He’d wanted to scream at Sabrina. The agreement they’d reached with the lawyer, besides dropping the lawsuit, was that she’d stay away from the playhouse and from him and Eliza. Nothing was put in writing, though, because to make it stick, they’d have to take out a legal restraining order and neither of them wanted her to have that in her record.

  He talked to the cast a bit again about how hard a life in the theater or dance world was, then gave his notes and sent them on their way. When he got back to the office, Eliza was just closing the door behind Sabrina.

  He waited until she turned and leaned against the wood. She looked beautiful, in a dance outfit and her face glowing. “That was one of the nicest acts of kindness I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “She’s suffering. She needs counseling especially before she goes to New York.”

  He hitched a hip on the desk. “I’ve got two appointments with my therapist this week.”

  Her brows arched.

  “I meant what I said, sweetheart. I’m mixed up about all this and want to get better.”

  She said, only, “Thank you for that.”

  “Now, let’s get you to Carmella’s.” Not that he was happy about that. Or about her keeping her physical distance. He longed for Eliza.

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, Ronan was a nervous wreck. Eliza promised a decision today on the baby. And he had no idea what he wanted her to say. If she decided on an abortion, would she eventually blame him? And would he be able to deal with what they’d done? If she decided to go ahead with the pregnancy, could he make a life with her and a baby? One he never thought he should have because he couldn’t bring a child into his grim existence and into a world that was truly fucked up.

  The doorbell rang. He rushed to the kitchen and pulled it open. She stood before him in a peach sundress, same color sweater and straw hat.

  “Hi.”

  She stared at him, then smiled. And right out there on the stoop she said, “I’m going to have this baby. I want it and I’m prepared to arrange my life around the decision. But don’t say anything yet. I have more to tell you.”

  A deluge of relief swamped him, making his knees buckle enough to have to grab the handle. “Come in, please.”

  She walked inside, he poured them tea that he’d already brewed and they went out to the deck. Sat under the umbrella table. The warm breeze off the water and sunlight all around them lifted his mood. “Go on,” he said gently.

  “You don’t have to be involved with this child. Or, you can be as involved as you want. I’m not going to ask for either.”

  “I understand.”

  “The only thing I might need is money. I have
my apartment free and clear, but my nest egg is dwindling. I’ll want to stop work for a while when I have this one,” here she patted her stomach and smiled broadly “and depending on how long I stay home, I might need your financial assistance.”

  “You can have as much money as you want. You always could. I told you that when you and Craig fought over the maintenance money and child support.”

  “I know. You’re a very generous man.”

  “Eliza, you’re being pretty detached about all this. And I’m sitting here still a crazy mess.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you could have seen me chucking up my guts this morning.”

  Alarm shot through him. “Oh, my God.”

  “Don’t worry. Same thing happened with Taylor. Now, about telling people.”

  “Before that,” he said swiveling his chair. “Come over here.”

  When she stood before him, he slid his arms around her waist. Put his face on her belly. She held him tight. “Oh, Ronan, we’ve made a baby. It’s a miracle, you know?”

  “I do.”

  The hug went on forever. Finally, she sat again. “Now, I’d like to wait three months before telling anyone else. That’s the dangerous period for a miscarriage.”

  “Right.” His heart squeezed in his chest. “Liza, will there be complications because of our ages?”

  “You mean old sperm and old eggs.”

  “We’re not that old.”

  “Ronan, there was only a ten percent chance of us getting pregnant.”

  “Wow.” He grinned.

  “That was macho.”

  “Doesn’t that say something about virility?”

  “I guess. There are downsides, too. Do you want to discuss them now?”

  “I hate to, but I think we should.”

  She catalogued high blood pressure, preeclampsia, gestational diabetes, birth defects, such as Down syndrome, miscarriage,

  low birth weight and ectopic pregnancy.

  His brows shot up. “You’re high risk.”

  “Yes. We have to face the truth.

  “Did Lynne set parameters for what you can and can’t do?”

  “Not yet. When I saw her, I told her I wasn’t sure I was going to keep it.”

  “Ah. When do you go again?”

  “In a week, for a routine monthly tummy check.” She took a bead on him. “You said you’re a crazy mess.”

  “I am. I know I’m relieved you’re not having an abortion, though. Really relieved.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  “And I saw Ed yesterday. I have more sessions set up. He thinks my attitude about having kids and committing to a relationship come from Albert and Bridget.”

  “How could they not be? You have to have been scarred by what happened.”

  A very heavy sigh escaped him. “I guess. The question now is where do we go from here?”

  “It’s where you go. I’m settled now.”

  He cocked his head. “Do you want to get married?”

  Shock suffused her face. “No, never, under these circumstances. If I ever marry again, it’ll be to a man who loves me as much as I love him. And don’t say you do, because I won’t believe you. So, no, no marriage.” She cocked her head. “But we can be friends again.”

  She mentioned meeting someone else. Marrying him. And Ronan felt he was on the verge of losing something very rare and very precious.

  * * *

  Eliza put on a pretty pink dress today because she was happy and walked into the coffee shop down from the playhouse. Mitt Rankin, sitting at a table, waved to her. When she reached him, he stood and hugged her. Uh-oh. “Hello, Mitt.”

  A very male smile. “You look like a bouquet of roses.”

  “Why thank you.”

  When she was seated, he studied her. “You glow.”

  She sipped the filled water glass set out on the table. “That’s because I’m pregnant.”

  He dropped the spoon he’d picked up to stir his coffee. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

  “It’s Ronan’s baby.”

  His unlined brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. When I went on about dating you, he acted strangely. I asked him if I was stepping on anybody’s toes.”

  “And he said no. In some ways that was right. I’d prefer not to go into all those details. But I thought I should tell you why I won’t be dating.” She picked up her purse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the playhouse.”

  “Let’s have lunch. We’ll stay friends and talk about my work.”

  Boy, she’d heard that one before. And look where it had gotten her. She left despite his protest, anxious to get back to Ronan. Maybe this time, they could make the friends thing work.

  * * *

  The long-term nursing care was as upscale as Bridget herself, Ronan thought when he visited her later in the week. She’d told Finn what she wanted, so he’d made the arrangements. The atmosphere was hushed in the reception area. He said, “I’m here to see Bridget Sullivan. I’m one of her sons.”

  “May I see some ID?”

  After he showed her his license, the woman clicked computer keys, then studied the screen. “It lists here her children. You can go up.” She gave him directions.

  He found her room and stood in the entryway where she couldn’t see him, his heart beating way too fast. He’d decided if she treated him like she did in the hospital, this would be their last contact.

  Stalling, he examined the room: painted a slate blue, the expensive carpet, a teal leather recliner and paintings on the wall that were probably original art. Finally, he knocked lightly on the open door to alert her someone was coming inside.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room. Bridget was sitting up in bed, wearing a cashmere shawl over pajamas. Her hair was combed, and she wore lipstick. How odd.

  When she saw him, her eyes widened.

  “Hello, Bridget.”

  She scribbled something on a pad by her right hand. The left lay lifeless on the white duvet. Then she lifted it toward him.

  Slowly, he crossed to her, took the pad, read the single word. Mother.

  Shocked, he swallowed hard. When he looked up, he saw her face had softened on the good side.

  “You want me to call you mother?”

  She nodded, then motioned to a chair, so he pulled it over and sat. She wrote more on the pad. He read the one word, Sorry.

  “You’re sorry?” His throat clogged. “For what?”

  She wrote more. The girl. Terrible to let it go on.

  Ronan closed his eyes. He never expected an apology, hadn’t planned for it. So, he went with his gut. “I accept that, Mother. Thank you.”

  Ronan stayed for an hour. He talked and she wrote a bit more about their estrangement, then she asked him to read to her. She fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

  Ronan couldn’t believe what had happened.

  * * *

  Eliza stood in front of the stove stirring the pot of sauce she and Carmella had made yesterday. Its spicy scent wafted up to her as it heated. Since she lived here at the moment, she wanted to help out and also wanted to learn how to make this special Italian dish they all loved so much.

  She’d fallen into the rhythm of the household easily. Every morning this week, she got up early and had breakfast with Carmella and Judd, then she enjoyed the variety of kids who came to the house to wait for the bus: Carina, Cassie and Cory and sometimes Tomaso and Ali’s twins, just for fun.

  When Eliza returned after practice, Carmella had a treat for her: cookies that melted in her mouth, a pastry she’d made with Carina after school, or even some leftover homemade pizza. Eliza would eat the snack and they’d talk about their days. This special time with Ronan’s aunt meant so much to her and kept the loneliness at bay.

  No one questioned her choice not to stay at the lake. Ronan had told Carmella that she wanted to be closer to town, and Eliza suspected his aunt didn’t believe
that for a second, but like he’d said, she’s always rolled with the punches.

  Now, on Sunday, they were celebrating the twins’ birthday and there was no question about Eliza’s attending.

  Carmella interrupted her thoughts. “You seem a bit overheated, dear.” She crossed to the fridge and got out two bottles of water. “Let’s go sit on the deck and have some water. The sauce doesn’t need constant stirring now.”

  They dropped down on the heavily padded chairs under an umbrella table. Eliza took a long swig of cold water, because her face did indeed feel hot, then gestured to the green grass, dotted by oak and maple trees, blooming flower beds of peonies and azaleas, and a play area for the kids. Would her child get to use those swings, climb those ladders? The answer came quickly. Only if Ronan decided he wanted to be part of his or her life. If so, Carmella would want to spend time with this grandchild, too.

  “This is a lovely spot, Carmella.”

  “I know. I adore this yard, this house. I’ve lived here all my adult life.”

  Roots, Eliza thought. Hers were in New York, but very different from the ones Carmella put down.

  Soon, they heard whistling, and Seth came into the yard that butted up to his house. He carried his son in a backpack. “Hey, there.”

  “Seth, dear, hello. Come up.”

  He climbed the steps. Despite the fatigue in his eyes, he exuded joy. “I was about to take Ford for a walk when I heard voices over here. I came over to say hi. Julianne went out to breakfast with Anabelle so I have this one.”

  Eliza stood. “Can I take him out of the backpack and hold him?”

  “He’s not asleep, is he?”

  “No.”

  “Then go ahead.”

  Carefully Eliza undid the buckles and drew Ford’s little body out of the canvas. He stared at her with huge blue eyes, the sprout on his head sticking up. She hugged him against her shoulder and he cuddled in. “Hey, little guy, how are you?”

  Seth beamed, but shoulders slumped and he leaned against the railing. Hmm. “When did you last have free time?”

  “Um,” he shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  “Why don’t you go take some? I’ll watch Ford until dinner. Unless you need me for something, Carmella.”