The Late Bloomer's Road to Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  Rachel was torn between the anticipation that the woman had caught a glimpse of her father with Wyatt, and concern that her father was being brought over by an ambulance driver on the way to the hospital.

  Ever since that awful, awful accident—it had taken her three days for her own heart rate to slow down—every time there was anything out of the ordinary concerning her father, she was thrown back to that night.

  The memory was always accompanied by her breaking out in a cold sweat.

  When Rachel made out Wyatt’s car, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. “You could have told me that it was Wyatt.”

  Johanna came up behind her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized honestly. “I thought you already knew. You are kind of anal when it comes to watching out for your dad.”

  Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself together. Much as she hated to admit it, Johanna was right. She did have a habit of overreacting when it came to anything to do with her father.

  It was going to take her some time to get over that, she thought.

  Maybe a hundred years—or so.

  Rachel threw open the front door before her father and Wyatt had a chance to enter. “Everything all right?” she asked, her eyes darting from her father to Wyatt and then back again.

  Perplexed, her father asked, “Of course. Why shouldn’t it be?”

  She made eye contact with Wyatt, nodding a greeting at him. The man probably thought she was being neurotic, but well, that boat had already sailed.

  “Well, you usually insist on driving yourself in,” Rachel reminded him.

  “I decided it might be a nice thing to have some company for a change,” her father told her. The expression on his face was one of sheer innocence.

  Wyatt decided to speak up, stepping between the man and his daughter. “Your father said that his car was acting up and he didn’t want to take a chance on getting stuck on the road, so he asked if I could drop him off at the restaurant.”

  “That sounds like a very smart way for you to think,” she commented.

  Suspicions began to prick at her as she looked at her father. This didn’t sound like him. The man usually threw caution to the wind and opted to take his chances. Her father was the type who leaped long before he even thought of looking.

  Something else was going on here, she would bet anything on it.

  But he was here, in one piece, and he had brought Wyatt with him, so she didn’t really feel as if she could find fault with her father.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “Since you’ve obviously exceeded your quota of good deeds for today and brought him here, the least I can do is offer you some coffee or some dessert. Or both.” She gave him a wide, inviting smile.

  Wyatt shook his head. “No, that’s all right,” he began to demur.

  But Rachel was not through with her pitch. “We have a fresh batch of cannoli just filled with our special ricotta mixture that comes with chocolate bits and powdered sugar.” She looked at his face, searching for some sort of indication that she had gotten to him.

  “One bite and you’ll think you’ve gone to heaven,” George assured his physical therapist.

  Wyatt seemed clearly torn. A second later, his sweet tooth waved a white flag. “Well, maybe just one piece.”

  “Attaboy. Johanna, get this wonderful young man his first serving of heaven,” George instructed his longtime friend. And then he turned toward his daughter, “You look tired, Rachel. Why don’t you sit down and keep Wyatt company while Johanna and I get the cannoli?” he suggested.

  George didn’t wait for his daughter to answer him. Instead, he went off with the assistant manager to get the dessert.

  Wyatt nodded, taking a seat at the small table. “I guess I had better do as your dad suggested.”

  She wasn’t sure if her father had twisted Wyatt’s arm to get him to stay. “Look, if you’re in a hurry, you don’t have to stay. You can sneak out now if you need to get going,” Rachel told him, indicating the clear path open to his escape.

  But Wyatt made no effort to leave. “It wouldn’t seem right. The idea of feeding me apparently gives your dad a lot of pleasure,” Wyatt said with a laugh. “Besides,” he continued, working his way into the topic that was uppermost in his mind, “it’ll give me a chance to talk to you.”

  Alarms went off in her head.

  Now what? she wondered.

  The next moment, Rachel was upbraiding herself. She really needed to get a handle on letting fear take over.

  But she knew very well that doing so was going to take her time.

  A lot of time.

  “Sure,” she replied, taking the seat opposite Wyatt and trying not to look as if she was waiting to be shot out of a cannon. “Should I be bracing myself?”

  “Well,” he told her thoughtfully, “I suppose that all depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On how you would react to being asked to attend my sister’s anniversary party,” he told her, his eyes never leaving her face.

  That definitely was not what she was expecting him to say. Wyatt’s question had managed to catch her completely off guard. “Excuse me?”

  For a moment, Wyatt debated making up an excuse and just abandoning the whole thing. But the truth of it was, he did want to go out with her. This seemed to be the perfect excuse for that to happen, so, taking a deep breath he plowed ahead.

  “I don’t want you to feel as if I’m backing you up against the wall, but you would be doing me a great favor if you said yes.” Then he quickly backtracked. “If you can’t come, I will totally understand.” Still, he didn’t want to lose her, either, so he added, “But you need to know that my sister is determined to fix me up with one of her friends and I am going to possibly be trapped in what would amount to a loveless marriage on my part because my sister is not the type of person to ever take no for an answer—on anything.”

  Wyatt looked so terribly serious—and the subject seemed so absurd—she found herself beginning to laugh. Once she did, she almost couldn’t stop. Although kindhearted, Wyatt did not strike her as the type to be forced to do anything he didn’t want to. He was a man who was in charge of his own destiny.

  In a way, that was sort of like her, Rachel couldn’t help thinking.

  “When is it?” she asked.

  “Saturday,” he replied, never taking his eyes off her face.

  Part of him couldn’t help thinking that he had pushed this too far, too soon. But the words were out, so there was nothing he could do about that.

  Rachel started to think the situation over. There was no question that she welcomed the chance to spend some time with him, especially using his sister’s celebration as an excuse. If she was going to make it, she would have to switch a few things around. Mainly that meant studying.

  But the idea of going out with Wyatt—going anywhere with Wyatt—caused a smile to rise to her lips.

  “Okay,” she told him, her eyes meeting his. “I can do it.”

  Chapter Ten

  For just a second, Wyatt was sure that his ears were playing tricks on him and he had just imagined her response.

  But the smile on her lips totally sold it.

  “That’s great,” he said enthusiastically. But then another thought occurred to him. “I’m not inconveniencing you by asking you to attend, am I?”

  “Why? Is there something else I’m supposed to do besides show up?” Rachel asked. There was more than a hint of amusement in her voice as she looked at him.

  “No, nothing else,” he told her quickly. And then he thought of his mother. He just prayed she wouldn’t start firing questions at Rachel. “And that’s plenty, believe me.” Wyatt fell back on details. “It starts at six. I can pick you up at five thirty—or any time after that if you’d prefer. It’s all up to you.”

  “Well,”
Rachel said, pretending to consider his suggestion, “I prefer showing up on time. I’m not the type who enjoys making an entrance.”

  Rachel might not enjoy it, Wyatt thought, but she was certainly the type who could easily make an entrance without so much as trying.

  “Speaking of which,” Rachel continued, “is this celebration going to be formal?”

  She needed to know what to wear. The worst thing in the world would be to show up dressed too formally or too casually. She didn’t want the first impression she made on his family to be a bad one.

  What makes you think that even matters? You’re probably never going to see any of these people again, she told herself. Still, she didn’t want her appearance to somehow reflect badly on Wyatt.

  Wyatt answered her question. “I’d say comfortably formal.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  Realizing he had been obscure, he tried again. “It means wear something nice that won’t outshine my sister. Myra’s not vain, but this is a pretty big deal to her. In this case it means that she’d like to be the center of attention.” He laughed. “How about this? It’s being held at the Starlight Room in the Bedford Hotel. Does that help you any?”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “What would have helped is if I hadn’t asked the question to begin with.”

  And then she thought of some of her mother’s things that her father had saved, leaving the items in her side of their closet.

  He hadn’t been able to make himself part with any of her mother’s favorite outfits. If she remembered, there were some pretty nice things for her to choose from.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll go with my instincts and figure something out.” Rachel glanced over at her father, who was in the kitchen, tying on his favorite apron. It was a worn item that her mother had gifted him many years ago. I’m in Charge Here was stitched in blue across the front. She could still remember her mother sitting there, carefully sewing the words.

  “How about my father?” she asked Wyatt.

  The question came out of nowhere and caught him by surprise. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure I can get my sister to find a place for him at the celebration, although I’m not sure that he’d enjoy sitting with a bunch of people he doesn’t know.” He smiled. “Eating food that he hadn’t prepared... What?” he asked, seeing the amused expression on Rachel’s face.

  She grinned. “Wow, did you ever overthink that one! I was just asking you how my father was doing with his exercises.” Rachel realized her mistake. “I guess I should have made it clear that I was switching topics.”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “All right, now that you know what I’m talking about, how is my dad doing? Honestly,” Rachel stressed before he began to answer. She knew that if she had asked the same question of her father, she would have been given nothing short of a glowing report.

  “Honestly,” Wyatt said, “he’s doing much better than I first expected. Actually, I think that coming back here and feeling as if he’s making a meaningful contribution to running the restaurant he loves is playing a huge part in his recovery.”

  Rachel wasn’t about to argue with that. She believed in owning her errors in judgment. “I guess you were right.”

  “It has nothing to do with being right or wrong,” Wyatt said. “It has to do with getting to know what makes a person react a certain way.”

  She wasn’t about to have him brush the accomplishment aside. “Still, you called it and I for one am very happy to see him getting back to being his old self, even if he is bossy,” Rachel said. “Thank you.”

  “Well, you deserve as much credit as I do.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t follow,” she confessed. She had no part in making her father do his exercises, which was all Wyatt’s domain.

  “It’s your unfailing support that has your father pushing himself to the next level even when a lot of people in his place would have done the minimal amount—or just given up altogether,” he stated flatly. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking otherwise.”

  Flustered, Rachel didn’t know what to say in response, so she just murmured, “Thank you,” then said something about her having to get back to work because the restaurant was going to be opening in another twenty minutes.

  Wyatt nodded. “I understand,” he told her, then smiled. “So it’s a date?”

  A date.

  The words sent a ripple all through her, beginning in the center of her stomach.

  A date.

  She was going on a date.

  After all this time, she certainly hoped that she remembered how to act. It had been a long time since she had actually been on a real date. The thought both excited her and scared her at the same time.

  She could feel the tips of her fingers growing icy.

  “Rachel?” she heard Wyatt ask. He was looking at her quizzically.

  “Yes.” The word came out a little louder than she had intended.

  Clearing her throat, she gave it a second try. “Yes,” she repeated at a more normal level. “It’s a date.” And then she smiled, her eyes sparkling just a little more as she repeated the words. “It’s a date.” Her smile grew even wider. “I guess I don’t have to give you my address.”

  Wyatt’s smile mirrored hers as their eyes met. “I guess not.”

  Turning, Rachel murmured her excuse again as she hurried off to the kitchen to check on everything—as well as on her father. The man deserved a hug, she thought, not just for everything he had been through, but for being her father and being alive.

  She knew that this news was going to make him happy. He had been carrying far too much guilt, feeling that she had put her life on hold because of him.

  How on earth am I going to make it to Saturday, Rachel couldn’t help wondering.

  She hadn’t a clue.

  Seeing her father, she walked a little faster. “I’ve got some news, Dad.”

  * * *

  The minutes just dragged, but on the other hand, the hours seemed to fly by. If she was actually going to this celebration with Wyatt, there were dozens of details demanding her attention. That didn’t even begin to include the five online lessons she needed to get to. Those were a challenge all their own.

  Every time she felt she could stop to take a breather, something else would pop up.

  Was it her imagination or had things gotten far more complicated in the last week? It certainly felt that way. She would have loved to take just a little time off to pamper herself in preparation for the upcoming anniversary celebration. She had a feeling that far from being pampered, she would be lucky to simply get dressed for this thing.

  Johanna had been observing her and had held her tongue for as long as she could.

  “You know, you don’t have to work yourself into a frazzle just to make up for the fact that you’re going to be out on Saturday afternoon,” she told Rachel.

  “I know that,” Rachel said, hardly looking up. “And for your information, the event doesn’t begin until six o’clock. I don’t have to leave here until five. Maybe even five fifteen.”

  Johanna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you do.”

  She’d been moving ever since she had gotten in—early—this morning and her temper was a little frayed by now. “Johanna, I am still running Vesuvius and I know when to leave.”

  “No, you’re not, and no, you don’t,” the assistant manager responded decisively.

  What was Johanna talking about? Rachel wondered. It wasn’t as if the woman didn’t know the situation as well as she did.

  She opened her mouth, ready to take Johanna to task, but she never got the chance.

  “Your father already told me that he is going to take over running the restaurant until we close up for the night, so you might as well save your breath,” Johanna said.

  Rachel had no intention of
loading her father down with responsibilities. That would be a tremendous step backward for him. Who knew what sort of dangerous consequences that could have on the man?

  “You and I both know that my father can’t—” Rachel began to protest, trying to appeal to Johanna’s common sense.

  “Oh, but he can,” Johanna maintained, cutting in. “He proudly told me that he was given the go-ahead by the hunk who is taking you out on your first date since that jerk ex of yours walked out on the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  Rachel didn’t want to talk about Elliott. The man was in her rearview mirror. He was history, and he would remain that way.

  She pressed her lips together, doing her best to hold on to her temper. After all, she knew that Johanna only meant well.

  “This isn’t about Elliott...” Rachel began, only to be shut down quickly.

  “Isn’t it?” Johanna asked knowingly.

  She wasn’t sure if she could take much more of this. “What are you talking about?” Rachel demanded.

  “You know very well what I’m talking about, Rachel,” Johanna said, her voice softening.

  Johanna knew what it meant to live with insecurities. When her husband had been killed overseas, she’d had to fight her own way back to rejoin the living.

  “You thought your life was perfectly plotted, and then, through no fault of your own, it just fell off the edge of the earth. Moreover, you found that Elliott wasn’t there for you to lean on.”

  Johanna frowned when she thought of the man Rachel had planned to spend her life with.

  “But that does not mean that it’s going to happen again.” She smiled, thinking of Wyatt. “Given what Mr. Terrific is like, I’ll bet you every penny in my banking account that it definitely isn’t going to happen again. Now,” she continued, taking the utensil out of Rachel’s hand, “put that spatula down, go home and start getting ready or I’m going to take you over my knee and make you realize that you’re acting just like a petulant little girl.”

  Rachel had absolutely no idea what one had to do with the other, but she had no intention of being bullied like this. “Johanna—”