A Family Affair: Spring: Truth in Lies, Book 2

by Mary Campisi

  Harry turned mid-stride and told her exactly what he thought of her in loud and colorful language. When he informed Greta of the blowout that night, she’d been silent, but she hadn’t scolded or frowned at him and the kids had actually seemed happier. Score one for Team Harry. Sometimes you had to fight the bullies, even if they masqueraded in the form of family.

  “Mr. Harry. Mom’s ready.” Harry smiled at Lizzie who looked like a miniature version of her mother, hair piled on top of her head and stuffed with baby’s breath, white lace dress falling just below the knees, and tights with patent leather shoes.

  “Okay, kiddo. Let’s get this show on the road.” Harry remembered nothing after that as his brain clogged with visions of Greta gliding down the aisle, A.J. at her side. If angels walked this earth, his Greta was one of them in a shimmery ice-blue dress, tummy round and full with his child, her blonde hair piled on top of her head. She wore his wedding gift to her, diamond drop earrings and a diamond drop necklace. Of course she’d had a fit when he handed her the Tiffany boxes, but he wasn’t backing down. This was his wedding, dammit, and she was going to wear them—and like it, too. He hoped. They’d already had the discussion about Harry buying her extravagant and unnecessary gifts, but the fact that she really didn’t care about them made him want to give them to her. Wait until she saw the new car he was having delivered next week: a four-door Lexus sedan. He would stop after that. Maybe. All Greta wanted from him was his love, commitment, and fidelity. For somebody who had spent his whole life estranged from those things, it was easy to promise them to the woman who owned his heart. His Greta.

  “…do you take this man…”

  Harry stared at those blue eyes, fell into them…. She smiled and said, “I do.”

  “….until death do you part…”

  “I do,” he murmured.

  Husband and wife. The kiss came next, long, slow, spreading from Harry to Greta, joining them in a lifetime of love, commitment, and fidelity. “I love you, Greta Blacksworth, and I plan to spend the rest of my life showing you.”

  Chapter 16

  Five inches of snow fell the day of The Bleeding Hearts Society monthly meeting, but Pop wouldn’t hear of staying home. A little snow wasn’t going to keep him from attending. Today they were turning in the gifts they’d made or purchased for this year’s family in need, and he was just nosy enough to want to see what everyone brought. Christine picked him up at his doorstep and refused to drive him to the meeting until he went back inside and changed out of his tennis shoes and into winter boots.

  The group spent most of the meeting removing price tags and wrapping gifts. Pop inspected each item, inquired as to the donor, and made an occasional noise of approval or, in a few cases, disapproval, if he thought the gift-giving was skimpy. When the meeting adjourned, Pop snatched a sugar cookie and bee-lined for Ramona Casherdon. Christine guessed it had something to do with Ramona’s nephew, Cash, who had become the buzz about town. Everyone wanted details of the accident that would soon send him back to Magdalena so they could formulate an opinion and an appropriate sentiment, should the occasion arise. Pop said some still judged him for what happened all those years ago, said Cash was a lost soul smothered in bad luck. Others sympathized, said if Cash had stood up and challenged his fiancé’s biased and exaggerated version of the story, maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to run from the town and himself, and maybe this latest tragedy wouldn’t have happened. The residents of Magdalena might not ask Ramona a straight-out, no-sugar-coated question about her nephew, but Pop Benito would, and no doubt, that’s what he was doing in the far corner of the room as he munched on a cookie and nodded his white head.

  “Christine? Mind if I sit?” Mimi Pendergrass flipped her reading glasses onto her salt-and-pepper curls and smiled.

  “Of course.” An audience with Mimi was a good thing. Pop had stated with certainty that today was the day Mimi Pendergrass would grant the big thumbs-up that would filter through the community and send residents to Christine, portfolios in hand.

  Mimi perched sideways on the edge of the folding chair, one small hand resting on the table next to Christine’s water, the other clutching the back of the chair. “We’d like you to join The Bleeding Hearts Society. We think you could do some real good here and we’d be pleased to have you.”

  Join the club? Was that code for, You’re in, we’ll back your business? “Thank you. I’m honored.”

  “We’ll send a formal invite next week. Ramona’s in charge of that,” her gaze skittered to the far corner of the room where Pop continued in earnest conversation, “but she’s got her hands full right now.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry to hear about her nephew.” All she knew was that Cash Casherdon had been in an accident while on police duty. The details were sketchy and well guarded. She’d asked Nate about his old friend, but her husband hadn’t talked to him since the day he left town eight years ago.

  Mimi pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head as if to clear it. Her dangly leaf earrings brushed her neck, tinkled in a gentle rhythm. According to Pop, this woman had known her share of pain, but her faith and her flowers had kept her from falling into a compost heap of self-pity. “Cash was a good boy and what happened was beyond tragic.” She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “Never mind about that, this is a happy time for you.” Her gaze settled on Christine’s stomach and her voice grew soft and gentle. “There’s nothing like a new baby in the family. I’m so very happy for you and Nathan.”

  “Thank you.” These past few months had taught Christine what real love meant as they prepared for the baby’s arrival. Nate painted the baby’s room a pale yellow, Miriam made draperies and a comforter and added a new crocheted item to the stack on the baby’s shelf each week. She promised to “customize” items once Baby Desantro entered the world. There were a few moments when Christine wished she knew the baby’s sex, but they were outweighed by her desire for a true surprise. Of course, Lily continued to insist the baby was a girl and said it with such certainty, Christine started to believe it, too, referencing “she” on several occasions, prompting Nate to slide her a “what in the hell are you talking about” look.

  Mimi leaned forward and whispered in Christine’s ear. “Pop gave his okay this morning, so it’s a go.”

  Okay for what? “A go?”

  “Yes.” More whispering. “We’ll put the word out; expect the phone calls to start this week. It might be a bit slower than usual with the holidays, but things will get cranking. And don’t worry about taking time off with the baby because everybody expects you to do that. They’re not going anywhere and neither is their money.”

  “Mimi?” Christine shifted in her chair so she could look the woman in the eye. “What exactly are you talking about and why does Pop have anything to do with it?”

  The older woman’s thin lips pulled into a grin. “Pop gave us the okay to do business with you.”

  “Pop did? Why would he be doing that? He said you and this group were the ones who had to give me the thumbs-up, with you as the lead.”

  Mimi laughed. “He did, huh? Well, he’s a sneaky one. Pop was the one doing the vetting and you must have passed his eight-point approval system or we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

  “Eight-point approval?” She slid a glance at Pop, who had his head bent toward Ramona but his eyes on Christine. He lifted a bony hand, gave her a thumbs-up, then turned back to Cash’s aunt.

  “To pass Pop’s test, you have to exhibit the following qualities: loyalty, integrity, honesty, compassion, forgiveness, dedication, humility, and, of course, a sense of humor. Not many people do it so quickly, so you must have really impressed him.”

  “I have no idea what to say.” Darn that man. He’d spent hours telling her what she needed to do to win Mimi Pendergrass’s acceptance, how the society loved volunteers and organizers, how his opinion was only part of the approval process. Wait until she got him alone. Pop had some serious explaining
to do and he was not going to appease her with a box of pizzelles.

  Mimi patted her hand and said, “He told me you’re the daughter he never had. Praise doesn’t get much better than that.”

  Christine told Nate about Pop’s shenanigans later that night and the way the old man apologized for the sneakiness, but insisted there were times when those tactics were necessary. A person’s real self comes out when he thinks others aren’t watching, or the person he’s with doesn’t matter. That’s when you get your best information, little details that, pieced together, make the big picture. I had my doubts until you and Nate worked out the kinks and got back together. That’s what true love is—fighting through those rough spots like a rototiller plowing through clay.

  “Pop’s got a soft spot for you,” Nate told her that night as they sat on the couch, drinking hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows and admiring the blue spruce in the corner. He’d just finished playing his nightly serenade for the baby. Tonight was a combination of Bach, Mozart, and a little Billy Joel. Lily would be over tomorrow to help string popcorn and cranberries for the tree, and Nate had promised she could pick out the Christmas carols for him to play. Of course, that would involve dancing, but Lily would have to do a solo on the floor because Christine could barely walk, let alone think about dancing. Nate smoothed his hand over her belly and kissed her temple. “Feeling okay?”

  “Other than looking like the bed of a wide-load truck?” She smiled and covered the hand that rested on her belly. “I’m fine, but I’m ready for this little Desantro to make an appearance.” She wasn’t technically due for another ten days, but the doctor thought she might delivery early.

  “You think it will be a girl?”

  “Maybe. Lily has never wavered.”

  Nate leaned forward and kissed her belly. “Hello, baby,” he murmured against the soft flannel of Christine’s shirt. “Can’t wait to meet you.” He laid his head on her belly and sighed. “I have never been happier or more content than I am right now.”

  “I know. Your mother says we should enjoy it now because the next eighteen years will be chaos.”

  “Yeah, I was not the most pleasant kid to be around.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She laughed and ran her fingers through his hair, enjoyed the softness of his curls. Would their child have its father’s hair? His eyes? His feet? The miracle that lived inside of her might share some of their characteristics, but the child would be her very own person and Christine would work hard not to interfere with that uniqueness. Her mother had attempted to stamp that out of Christine’s personality, but thankfully, she’d not succeeded.

  “If you think we’re going to go crazy, what about Harry? Can you picture him with a kid?” Nate chuckled. “Harry Blacksworth with spit-up on his custom-made shirts, carrying a designer diaper bag.”

  “That’s mean. He’s excited. I wish we could have made the wedding.” She’d asked Dr. Conrad but he’d said absolutely not.

  “Greta promised to send the video and while it’s not the same as witnessing his agony in person, we will have the benefit of replay.” He chuckled again. “Think the new husband is ready to ditch everybody and head to Bermuda?”

  “I think Uncle Harry is going to surprise us all,” she said. “Greta’s perfect for him and he really seems attached to her kids. He said they were talking about buying a place here for the summers.”

  “Oh, boy. One big happy family.” He sighed. “Can’t wait.”

  Christine leaned forward and tried to see his expression. “Are you serious?”

  Nate sat up and studied her. “What if I am? Would it matter?”

  “Of course it would.” She waited, and when five seconds passed without a response she said, “Well?”

  His lips twitched. “I like Harry. He’s a straight shooter, even if he’s a little too hung up on his wardrobe.” Nate’s expression turned serious. “I’d like it if they spent the summers here, around family. It would be good for all of us.”

  Christine nodded. “That’s kind of what he said.” Well, not exactly. That mountain man better treat you right because I’ll kick his butt if he doesn’t. He’d said it with a wink, which in Harry Blacksworth lingo meant the guy passed his test.

  Nate smiled and pulled her against him. “Warm enough? I can put another log on the fire.”

  “I’m fine. Just getting sleepy.”

  He checked his watch and said, “Actually, Jack’s stopping by tonight with one of your Christmas presents. He should be here soon.”

  “Presents? We said we weren’t doing that this year because of the baby.” There’d been so many things she wanted to get him but he’d insisted on no gifts and now he’d gotten her one? That didn’t sit well at all.

  “I made it a long time ago before I even knew about the baby.”

  “Nate—”

  Tires screeched up the driveway, followed by three quick honks. “Sounds like Jack’s here.” Nate stood and gave Christine a quick kiss. “Stay right here and no peeking. I’m going outside to help Jack bring it in.”

  “It takes two men to carry my present inside?”

  He grabbed his jacket and said, “You have no idea the trouble this thing has caused me. Be right back.”

  And with that, he was out the door and stomping down the steps toward Jack and her present. Her husband was full of surprises lately, from the hardbound edition of Aesop’s Fables, Mom said every kid should have one, to the pink cactus in full bloom he brought home, because it made me think of you. She rubbed her stomach and wished her father were alive to know his grandchild, and yet, if he were, she might never have met Nate. Life was a strange mix of twists and turns, where incomprehensible loss often led to paths of unimaginable joy.

  The door opened bringing with it a rush of cold air and Jack Finnegan’s gravelly voice. “Hello, Christine. How’s the little mama?”

  “Hi, Jack,” she called from the couch. “I’d turn and greet you, but apparently I’m not allowed to see my present yet.”

  “Hell, no, can’t ruin this surprise. Been a long time coming and a lot of heartache. If this boy would have just fessed up from the start, he could have avoided a lot of trials, but can’t knock no sense into that thick head sometimes. Hey!” He grunted and muttered, “Hold on, Nate, I ain’t as spry as you. This hip don’t move so well.”

  “Less gum flapping and you’d have the energy to do the job.”

  “Don’t let him get hurt, Nate. Jack’s got to cover for you when the baby comes.”

  “Yeah, don’t forget that, boy,” Jack said. “Be nice or I’ll tell that little wife of yours you ain’t as great as she thinks. Hey now! That hurt.” The back and forth insults continued until their voices faded. Were they in the baby’s room? Christine waited and listened but she couldn’t tell what they were doing or where. And what had Jack meant about Nate fessing up and saving heartache?

  “Okay, all set. See you, Christine. Don’t take any crap from this boy.”

  “Aren’t you going to stay while I open my present?”

  “Nah, snow’s gonna start any minute. I want to get home and tucked in. These bones don’t take the cold the way they used to. Besides, Nate don’t want me around when he starts blubbering all that love and commitment fiddle-faddle.”

  Jack laughed and when Nate spoke, there was humor in his voice. “Thanks, Jack. Appreciate it.”

  The old man’s voice cracked with his next words. “Anytime, boy. Anytime at all.” Then he was gone, his truck barreling down the road toward home.

  Nate came up behind her, pushed aside a hunk of hair, and kissed the back of her neck. “Ready for your surprise, Mrs. Desantro?”

  “Absolutely.” She stood and made her way to the other side of the couch.

  “This has been a long time coming,” he said as he held out his hand and led her to the closed door of the baby’s room. His dark eyes grew bright, his voice hoarse. “I hope you like it.” He opened the door and she entered. A cradle rested in the ce
nter of the room, its rich wood gleaming under the soft light. The spindles were carved with delicate precision, the headboard outlined in a simple scrollwork design, the base, sturdy and dependable.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. She ran her fingers along the fine wood. “Just perfect.”

  Nate covered her hand with his, met her gaze. “This is what I was doing at Gino Servetti’s.”

  “But…why? You didn’t even know I was pregnant.”

  A dull flush crept up his neck, settled on his cheeks. “It was going to be the lead-in to ‘What do you think about a baby?’”

  “That day everything fell apart and you told me you had a surprise; this was it?” Tears flooded her voice, made it hard to speak. “This was the surprise?” He nodded, squeezed her hand. “But why did you wait until now? Things have been good between us for a while.”

  “I don’t like to think about that time without you. It was one of the worst periods of my life, worse than when my father died and that was pretty bad. I’d actually planned to gift it to one of the guys at work who has a pregnant girlfriend, but Jack talked me out of it. Said you deserved to see what I’d been doing at Gino’s.” His lips inched up. “Plus, he said it was a ‘damn fine piece of craftsmanship’ and I should be proud of it.”

  “I’m so glad he convinced you to bring it home.” She paused, stroked her husband’s cheek. “Where it belongs. I love you, Nate Desantro. Thank you for this beautiful gift. I wish I had one to give you.”

  He placed a hand on her belly, bent his head, and kissed her softly on the mouth. “You’ve given me the best gift of all.”

  ***

  “I knew it was going to be a girl. Anna Nicolina Desantro.” Lily grinned at Pop. “I got to hold her. She’s tiny. Seven pounds and something, and her hair is black like mine and Christine’s.”