A Match Made In Vegas

by Debra Salonen

  Alexa looked up. For half a second she hoped...Mark? But no, the man who stepped to Liz's side wasn't Mark. "Hi, David...I mean, Paul. I might be on the road to recovery, but I have days and days of cooties on my teeth so I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

  "Ewww," Liz said, scrunching up her nose. "More information than my poor fiancé needed."

  "Sorry." She stared at the pair a moment. Something had happened. "You two are beaming so bright I need sunglasses. What's up?"

  "We're going to India," Liz said, hopping from foot to foot in a most un-Liz-like fashion.

  "Tomorrow," her fiancé added.

  "But tomorrow's Christmas," Alexa stated, dumbfounded.

  Paul made an oh-well gesture. "Not in some parts of the world. We got a great, last-minute flight—probably because of the holiday."

  Liz rushed forward, although she stopped short of hugging Alexa. "We're going to meet our baby."

  Alexa's mouth dropped open. She scooted back on the bed to make room for her sister to sit. "How? When? Tell me everything."

  Paul came closer to stand just behind Liz. Together, they talked—each filling in the other's sentences and adding so much information that Alexa's head started to whirl. Apparently the child in question was not Prisha—the little girl Liz had wanted to adopt before the child's mother had come back into the picture.

  "Prisha is doing great," Liz said, "and if we have time we'll take a side trip to visit her, but we just don't know yet."

  ''We want to spend as much time as they'll give us getting to know our baby," Paul put in, reaching out to clasp Liz's hand.

  He explained that different areas of the country have different adoption policies. "We should be able to bring her home within the year," he said.

  "Her? It's a girl? That's fantastic. I'm so happy for you both." And she meant it. Her sister truly deserved this happiness. "When does your flight leave? Will you be here for the dinner at Romantique?"

  For the third year, the Romani clan and many generous friends planned to provide a holiday meal for needy families. Normally, Alexa would have been embroiled in the preparations these past couple of days, not hanging out in bed while others did all the work.

  "We have to be at the airport by two, so we'll head over to the restaurant in the morning and do our share before we take off," Liz said.

  "We both tend to travel light," Paul added with a smile, "so we'll leave our car in long-term parking and no one has to worry about picking us up when we get back on New Year's Eve."

  Alexa had to smile. The two were absolutely perfect for each other.

  "Are you going to be well enough to pitch in?" Liz asked.

  "I hope so, but I'm not sure about going to Mom's tonight. Why take the chance on giving anyone else my germs?"

  Liz let out a theatrical gasp. "Alexandra Parlier miss Christmas eve at Mom's? Impossible. You'll be there, even if we have to rent one of those clear plastic isolation tents."

  "Ha-ha. But the truth is I don't feel particularly perky. You'll all have more fun without me."

  Liz motioned Paul closer and whispered something in his ear. He responded by giving her a tender kiss, then he looked at Alexa and said, "See you tonight, my almost sister." A second later, he was gone.

  Alexa gave Liz a serious look. "You'd better watch it. Being too bossy is a good way to lose a man."

  Liz kicked off her shoes and drew her legs across in front of herself. "What the heck is going on? I've never seen you this down in the dumps. Can't be your electrolytes."

  The last was said with a wink that actually made Alexa laugh. "Hormones," she admitted. "I started my period."

  "Oh...oh. And you thought...”

  "Not for sure. But kinda. The test said I was, but it had only been a few days since Mark and I were together, and I knew the results weren't completely accurate. Still...”

  Liz reached out and touched Alexa's shoulder. "Well, I do know what it feels like to think you're going to a mother and then just like that—" She snapped her fingers. "You're not. It sucks, sweetie. And normally I'd tell you to take a week and wallow, but, sis, it's Christmas. You don't have a week."

  Alexa laughed. She couldn't help herself. As usual, her sister was right. “Okay, tell Mom I'll drop by, but not for dinner and not for long. Just to watch Maya open her presents."

  Liz's smile seemed to say "Yeah, sure," but out loud she said, "Good. And just so you know, I left a quart of kombucha in your refrigerator. It'll last you until I get back from India. One glass every morning will aid your digestion and help rebuild your immune system. I promise."

  But will it fix what's wrong with me and Mark? That, she feared, would take a magic potion.

  Mark hung up the phone. All was in place for this evening. He'd talked to Grace and Liz. Even Yetta had called to personally extend an invitation to the Parlier gathering at her house tonight. "Santa has promised to drop by, and I'm sure Braden will enjoy that," she'd said.

  How could he say no? Even though he had yet to talk to Alexa—he'd called both her land line and cell and left several messages but she hadn't returned a single one—he was acting on faith that her sisters knew her better than she knew herself.

  "Alexa wants you there," Grace had said. ''Trust me."

  Trust. He wanted to believe that he and Alexa had been given a second chance, but there was still so much that remained unresolved between them. Even with his life starting to get back on track, he didn't know if now was the right time to ask her to forgive him. Could she put the past behind them? Would she ever trust him again?

  "I saw her a few minutes ago," Liz, whom he'd just talked to, had told him. "She's out of bed and moving around. I got her to promise she 'd come to Mom's tonight. I know it would mean a lot to her if you and Braden were there."

  Mark needed to hear that for himself. Getting up from his desk, he walked into the living room of his apartment where Braden was watching Scrooged, an old Bill Murray movie that Mark had found in Tracey's box of things. "We need to run over to the preschool for a few minutes, Bray. Can you turn that off?”

  His son didn't look up.

  "Braden?"

  The boy made a don't-bother-me motion.

  "Braden," he barked.

  Mark immediately regretted his sharp tone. Braden's shoulders slumped and his head went down, as if dodging a blow that was sure to follow. Mark dropped to his knees beside his son and pulled Braden into his arms. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted you to answer me."

  After a few seconds, the child relaxed against his chest. "B-ut, D-Daddy, t-the b-boy talks," he said, pointing to the television.

  Mark hadn't seen the movie in years. He didn't remember the story, except that it was a comedic take-off of A Christmas Carol, complete with ghosts of present, past and future. Since Braden seemed so intent on seeing the end of the show, Mark eased back against the sofa and watched, too.

  He soon understood what Braden had meant. A character in the story—a young child who had been traumatized by something that had happened in his life—was miraculously healed on Christmas eve. As Bill Murray lifted the child in the air, the boy said Tiny Tim's memorable line: "God bless us everyone."

  Mark looked at his son, who was smiling with such trust and hope on his face. His silent plea was all too obvious. "Teach me how to say that, Daddy." Braden's speech had been improving. His teacher and therapist were both very encouraged, but was the little guy ready to go public?

  "You know, Bray, I love you and I'm proud of you—no matter what. You don't have to prove anything to me."

  Braden 's expression turned belligerent. "B-b-but...I..”

  Mark waited patiently, willing himself not to fill in the word his son was searching for. Whatever he wanted to say wouldn't come, and the boy gave up with a sob.

  Mark hugged him tight, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. "It's okay, kiddo. We'll figure this out. I promise. Now, what do you say we go buy some flowers for Miss Alexa?"
<
br />   "And c-candy?"

  "Sure. That's a great idea."

  Forty-five minutes later—did every citizen of Las Vegas wait until the last day to complete their shopping?—they finally arrived at Alexa's. She answered the door after their third knock.

  "Merry Christmas," he said, presenting her with the bouquet of red and white roses tucked between fragrant stems of pine.

  "Oh," she exclaimed. 'Thank you. How sweet of you both."

  She stepped back, making room for Mark and Braden to come in. The preschool seemed unnaturally quiet. An upright vacuum was sitting just beyond her desk. "Don't tell me you were cleaning? You 're supposed to be resting."

  She made a casual gesture. "I didn't get far. Had to sit down after a few minutes. I really hate feeling weak and worn out. I'm not a good patient. Just ask my doctor."

  "We won't stay long, but Braden and I wanted to check on you. Give her your gift, Bray, while I put these in a vase," he said, taking back the flowers. "Just point me in the right direction."

  "Top shelf. Next to the refrigerator." To Braden, she said, "Oh, my goodness. Ethel M candy. My absolute favorite. How did you know?"

  Mark smiled to himself. He could picture his son's ear-to-ear grin. Alexa was good for Braden. Heck, she’s good for me, too.

  But am I good for her?

  A few minutes later, they were all three sitting in the sunny nook where the aides usually prepared the snacks for Alexa's classes. Braden was kicking his feet back and forth beneath the stool. Mark could read his son 's nervous energy. The boy wanted something but hadn't figured out how to ask for it.

  Alexa offered Braden a chocolate from the foil-wrapped box. "You know, I just saw my sister Kate arrive a few minutes ago at my mother's. Would you like me to call over there and see if Maya wants to play?"

  Braden's eyes lit up and he nodded fervently.

  She started to reach for the phone, but before she could make the call, the door opened and Maya raced into the house. "Auntie Alexa, Auntie Alexa," the little girl called. “Guess what? Santa came early. He brought Mommy a new baby."

  Alexa dropped the phone. "W-what?"

  Mark put the receiver back on the base unit.

  Maya threw herself into her aunt's arms, squirming and squealing with obvious joy. "Hi, Bray. Hi, Mr. Mark. Mommy's coming. She'll tell you, too. It's true. Santa left the new baby in Mommy's tummy to grow until he's big enough to be borned."

  "He?" Mark asked.

  The question gave the little girl a moment of pause, but after a second of reflection she said, "Yes. It's a boy."

  Mark and Alexa looked at each other but didn't have a chance to discuss Maya's obvious conviction because Kate and Rob arrived a second later. Mark stood up and held out his hand to the man he'd heard about—had even thought about calling when it had looked as if he was going to need a lawyer—but had yet to meet.

  "Rob Brighten."

  "Mark Gaylord. Sounds like congratulations are in order."

  “Thanks. Maya's convinced Santa is to thank, but we're blaming Tahiti. Our honeymoon," he added with a telling grin to his wife.

  "When did you find out?" Alexa asked.

  "I saw the doctor this morning. We thought about holding off telling people until after the holidays, but Maya knew something was up. She finally got it out of Rob an hour ago."

  The man blushed. "I swear she should work for the CIA when she grows up. She's uncanny."

  Maya put her hands on either side of Alexa's face and said, "When you're well, you'll have a baby, too."

  Alexa blinked rapidly. Her tears told him the truth. She wasn't pregnant. And Mark needed to talk to her alone. To Kate, he said, "I bet you'd like to talk to your sister, but could I have a few minutes first? Maybe Maya and Braden could hang out together while Alexa and I...um, swing," he said impulsively.

  "Sure," Kate said. "Rob and I came over to help tidy up the place before Alexa started cleaning." She gave her sister a stem look. "Mom said you were probably vacuuming. Shoo. We'll do this."

  Mark thought it was pretty great the way her family pitched in to help each other. He'd always been impressed with closeness of Parlier family—impressed and unnerved. He'd worried that he wouldn't fit in or measure up.

  Once they were outside, sitting side by side on the sturdy swings, he decided to be blunt. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

  The chilly breeze tossed her curls. "No."

  "I'm sorry."

  She pushed off with her feet. "Really?'

  "Really. But it's probably for the best."

  Her chin dropped and her momentum slowed as her toes dug into the wet sand. "I know."

  "But do you know why?" He took both rubber-coated chains in his hands and made her face him. "Because you're a teacher and a role model for a lot of impressionable young children. You set a high standard for yourself and for everyone in your life. I used to worry that I wasn't good enough, but the past few years have taught me a lot about myself."

  She looked at him and waited.

  "I know now that everyone makes mistakes. It's what you learn from your mistakes that matters. I learned what's most important in life—family and love. What's not important are things you have no control over, like what other people say about you."

  "Your dad?"

  "Yeah. Deep down I thought he was right about me. That I'd never amount to anything. But he never really knew me, Alexa. He was too drunk, too mean, too caught up in his own pain. Same as Odessa. Tracey finally managed to get out from under her mother's thumb and, in a way, her death made me see that I could make a clean break with the monsters in my life, too."

  He explained about the investigation that had led them to Tracey's friend Pigeon. 'Tracey didn't go to that house to buy drugs. She went there to take a stand. To help a friend. To close a chapter of her life that her mother had opened for her. Odessa finally admitted that Tom-Tom, the guy who was cooking the meth, had supplied her with drugs for years. He'd also raped Tracey when she was a young girl."

  "Then Tracey didn't sleep with him when you. . . "

  "No. Definitely not. Braden is my son. Statistically improbable given the one time we were together, but when you're a macho guy like me. . . " He grinned so she'd know he was teasing.

  Her laugh was musical. "I'm glad, Mark. This is great news about Tracey. Now, you never have to be uncomfortable talking about her to Braden. He'll be very proud of her someday."

  He nodded. "I plan to make sure of it."

  She touched his cheek. "We should go back in."

  "We still have a lot to talk about."

  "I'm cold, and I just got over the flu. My mother is expecting me—and you, I've been told—to show up at her house tonight."

  Mark knew she was right about getting her back inside.

  Her cheeks were pinker than usual. He pulled her to her feet and was about to kiss her when she wrenched away crying, "Germs."

  Something told him that was an excuse, but he'd let her hide behind that alibi for now. The past was more or less out of the way. They'd deal with the present as it came at them tonight. But after Santa's visit, he planned to broach the subject of their future together.

  Chapter 23

  Alexa made sure her outdoor decorations were plugged in before she left the house. Every house in the cul-de-sac, even the two that didn't belong to Romani family members, were brightly lit, making the neighborhood seem especially festive. As a favor to her mother, nobody had a car parked on the street. The empty area was necessary for the special treat that was awaiting the children.

  She pulled her knitted scarf—a gift from one of her students—a bit snugger to keep out the chilly air, then hefted the plastic bag with her gifts over one shoulder and started toward her mother's home.

  Amazing scents filled the air before she reached the driveway. Kate and Jo had been cooking all afternoon. Alexa had offered to help, but they'd insisted she conserve her energy.

  "Like I'm some kind of invalid," she muttered softly.
She'd survived the flu and her first "real" period in several years. The cramps had been manageable, and once her life was back on track, she'd think about whether or not she wanted to pursue in vitro.

  Oddly, her close encounter with pregnancy had made her think twice about becoming a single parent. Or, maybe it was what Mark had said to her today on the swings. "You're a role model for a lot of little kids."

  Many of the parents who brought their children to her school were managing alone. She didn't judge them. In fact, she felt nothing but compassion for the difficult job they had on their hands. But, if she were being honest, she had to admit that what she really wanted was what her sisters had found—a partner to share her life.

  Is Mark that man?

  Only fear—the fear of being made a fool of again—had kept her from considering the possibility. She wanted to let down her guard—to open her heart to Mark and Braden— but did she dare?

  "Ho, ho, ho," a booming voice said from the street behind her. "Merry Christmas."

  She whirled about. "Santa," she exclaimed. "You scared me."

  "Perhaps that's because you haven't been a good girl this year," the large-bellied man in a red suit and full, shiny white beard said. From his lack of stature—and because her mother had warned her ahead of time—Alexa knew the portly character was her uncle, Claude.

  She put down her sack and rushed to him, hugging him soundly. "Oh, Santa, you know better than that. I'm Saint Alexa, in some circles."

  Her uncle's hearty laugh touched her deeply, giving her the first real taste of holiday spirit. The merry twinkle in his eyes was probably from the many Christmas lights on the eaves of the houses, but for a second, she almost saw her father behind the lush beard and mustache. "Well, if that's true, then I expect you'll be getting a very special gift beneath your tree tonight, my dear. Very special, indeed."

  She laughed and patted his shoulder. "So, you got my letter, then? You know what I want?"