by Gina Ardito
Sure, everything was yellow socks and lollipops between them now, but I still worried she’d eventually break his heart. In a nutshell, I didn’t trust her. And I really hated thinking she’d now have a weakness to hold against me, a weapon she could wield to prevent me from telling Sam to give her up and find someone better.
My discomfort seemed justified when Sam strolled into my semi-private room, hand-in-hand with Paige Wainwright. And of course, she looked perfect: a pretty deep purple sweater that set off her perfect blond hair and blue eyes, well-fitting jeans that showed off her perfect figure, and the perfect pair of heeled knee-high black boots. I still wore my scruffy sweats and had tied my greasy hair back in a messy ponytail with a rubber band a nurse gave me.
“You ready to go?” Sam asked as he greeted me with a quick peck on the cheek.
“Hi, Em.” Paige smiled and took my hand. “How are you feeling?”
Insignificant and stupid, but I didn’t say that. I opted for, “Good, Paige. How are you?”
“Good.” She cast a glance at Sam, and sparks flashed hot enough to set my bed ablaze.
“Okay, guys, break it up,” I grumbled. “Have some respect for those of us in marital mourning.”
Paige blushed. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
She sounded genuinely concerned. I shrugged. “Just another day in paradise.”
“Listen, if you need to talk,” she replied with another touch to my hand. “Not just now, but you know. At, like, two in the morning when you can’t sleep.”
I shrank away. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I’d never call her at, like, two in the morning. Not even if a zombie apocalypse left us the last two humans on Earth. Then again, I doubt she would have extended the offer if she believed there was the slightest chance I’d follow through. That made us even, as far as I was concerned. One well-meaning lie apiece, for those keeping score.
An awkward silence fell between us until Sam cleared his throat. “So. How do we go about springing you?”
I pointed out the door. “Nurses’ station. I’m all discharged. I just need you to go down there and tell them you’re here for me so they can fetch the magic chariot.”
“Okay then,” he replied. “I’m on it. Be right back.” He turned and left the room, taking all the tranquility with him.
“Well.” Paige cracked first. Wuss. “Do you have any belongings you need me to grab?”
I let her squirm a little more. “Just what I’m wearing. That’s the beauty of coming in via ambulance. No excess baggage.”
“Oh.”
My gaze traveled to the drooping flowers in the glass vase Roy had carried in here earlier in the week. I had no intention of taking them with me. They only made me wonder how little he really thought of me. The drawing from my babies sat folded in my pocket, a talisman to be viewed and touched whenever their absence devastated me to the point I couldn’t consider taking another breath. The only other item I took was Ambrose Chase’s business card. Once I’d gained back some semblance of a normal life, I’d contact him and deliver on my promise to help him with his research. Call me crazy, but I’d still like the chance to get my name in book. Then again, what name would he use?
The awkward silence between Paige and me returned and, since no one had yet taken Margie’s spot near the door, we didn’t even have a stranger to break through the wall.
Finally, I couldn’t take the strain anymore. “Do you really love him?”
She did a double-take. “Huh?”
“Sam,” I reminded her sharply. “Do you love him? Really love him? Enough to stay here? Even when our sleepy little town gets boring?”
Her posture stiffened to steel. “Actually, I had already decided to stay here before Sam told me he loved me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Turning her angry gaze from me, she stared out the window. She clasped her hands in front of her, fingers fumbling over each other. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
Well, really, what else did I expect perfect Princess Paige to say? “You’re right,” I admitted.
As the heavy silence fell yet again, I fussed with the blanket on my bed.
“Yes,” she said at last in a soft, but weighty, whisper. “I love him. Enough to stay here, no matter what does or doesn’t happen in this town. Or to follow him into purgatory, if that’s what he needs me to do. Satisfied?”
“Very,” Sam announced as he returned to my room, pushing a wheelchair. While Paige and I both flinched and flushed with guilt, he grinned. “So can my two favorite ladies call a truce and become friends now?”
I offered Paige a grudging nod, which she returned. “I guess,” I mumbled.
Bending over the wheelchair, Sam leaned toward Paige. “What do you say, sweetheart?”
“Of course,” she replied, her posture no longer quite so solid.
“Good.” He straightened and pushed the chair next to my bed. “Let’s rock and roll, Em.”
One hand on my upper arm, he helped me into the chair, which was ridiculous. I was perfectly fine, but the dumb hospital legal rules insisted I had to leave in a wheelchair. I shot a disgruntled glance up at Sam when he pushed me toward the door. “I thought I had to wait for a hospital employee.”
“I’m the police chief. I get special dispensation.”
With Paige behind us, we left the hospital. Once the automatic doors ushered us outside into the cool mid-morning sunshine, Sam turned the handles over to his girlfriend. “Stay with Em. I’ll go get the car.” He dashed off before either of us could argue.
I struggled around my dry throat to apologize. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you up there.”
“I wasn’t embarrassed. I know you care about him, and I respect that you were worried I might not be...genuine...in my feelings. But, I really do love Sam. I just hate letting him think he’s got the power in our relationship. It brings out his arrogance, and shifts that balance between us. I prefer to keep him guessing.” She winked at me. “Know what I mean?”
Yeah. I did. A weird thought popped into my head: Paige knew Sam better than I did. I couldn’t hide my surprise, and I laughed. “You’re all right, Paige.”
“Gee, thanks.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You’re all right, too.”
Sam pulled up in his police cruiser and rolled down the window. “Ready?”
I looked over the official car, the red and white lights on the roof, the cage that separated the front seat from the back. Today was, apparently, a day full of surprises. “You’re kidding,” I said with a cocked eyebrow.
“It was either this or the Jeep.” He shrugged.
“And you didn’t bring the Jeep because...?”
“I didn’t want you to have to jump up to climb in.”
“I’m not an invalid, Sam. Or a felon.”
Paige’s laughter broke into our debate. “Come on.” She pulled open the front passenger door. “Get in. I’ll play felon.”
I couldn’t backpedal fast enough. The last thing I wanted was to whip out the diva card. “Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll sit in the back. I was kidding. Really.”
“Relax,” she replied. “I don’t mind. I haven’t been in the back of a patrol car since that incident my freshman year at college.”
Sam sat up, frowning. “What incident?”
She winked at me again as I slid into the car’s front seat. “Nothing major. Just a little lewd and lascivious behavior.”
“What?!”
“Take it easy, Sam. It was years ago.” Leaning down, she whispered, “See? Balance restored,” and shut the car door.
I bit back my laughter while she climbed into the back seat. I hated to admit it, but Paige was growing on me.
****
Francesca
Resolved to move on, I went home for some shuteye before tonight’s shift. After a dreamless sleep, I showered and fixed a light supper. I’d just finished washing the dishes when my doorbell r
ang. My heart thumped against my ribs. Josh? I raced to the door, peered through the peephole, and my heartbeat only picked up rhythm. Wrong Candolero. This time, his mother was at my door. Panic set in. Had something happened? To Desi? Or to Josh?
I yanked open the door.
“Mrs. C.? Is something wrong?” Please, God, no.
She shook her head. “You didn’t come inside when you dropped off Desiree this afternoon. I have something for you.” She held up a package about the size of a pencil case, wrapped in metallic pink paper with an intricate ribbon bow. “A gift.”
I opened the door to let her inside, all the while declining her generosity. “That’s very nice, but you don’t need to give me anything.”
“Yes, I do. I know what you’ve done for my Desiree.” She lifted the package toward my face. “Please.”
Oh, boy. She knew about Desiree’s visit to the E.R.? And that I helped Desi lie to her about her whereabouts? Terrific. She’d probably brought me a box of venomous snakes as a gift.
How had she found out? Had Josh told her? Putting his own spin on my actions to make me more a villain than a victim of legalities and hospital policy?
“Is it okay if I come in?” she asked.
Crap. I flushed with shame. Way to add to the woman’s animosity: leave her on my porch like an unwanted salesman. “Of course. I’m sorry.” Opening the door wider, I ushered her into my den. She stepped inside and stood near the cocktail table, the beautiful gift still in her hands.
“I’m sorry about Desiree,” I began again, but she cut me off.
“Please. Let me explain.” Her smile reminded me so much of Josh, my knees practically buckled.
“Would you like to sit down?” I swept a hand toward the sofa. Part of me hoped she’d decline and leave quickly. Another part of me hoped she’d sit because if she continued to smile at me, my legs would give out and I’d collapse in an emotional heap on the carpet.
“Thank you, but no. I won’t take up your time for too long.”
I took a deep breath and locked my knees.
“I don’t know exactly what you’ve done for Desiree. And I don’t want to know. Teenagers are such complex creatures, especially girls.” Her laughter illuminated her porcelain face. “I’ve learned a lot with my older daughters—mostly through the mistakes I made. I know Desiree doesn’t understand that I was once a teenager like her. She would never trust me with her secrets, afraid I would punish her. But every teenager needs an older woman to confide in, someone who’ll listen without judgment and guide her to make smart choices.”
Well, on that score Mrs. C. and I agreed.
“I’ve been hoping she’d confide in one of her sisters, but...” She shrugged. “She chose you. And I’m grateful. So is my husband. We know you’ll do your best to keep her safe and smart. You won’t betray her confidence so she’ll trust you.” Holding the gift with both hands, she presented it to me in a formal manner. “This is to show our appreciation for your willingness to take on this responsibility.”
I accepted the package from her. How could I not? But when I started to pull the ribbon, she stopped me.
“You must not open the gift in front of me.” Rising, she bowed her head. “Korean tradition.” She headed toward the door, but paused in the foyer. “You’ll come to our Halloween party, right?”
I frowned. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Nonsense. Of course you can. I’m inviting you.”
“I’m working that night,” I told her.
She nodded. “Tell me honestly. If you didn’t have to work, would you have accepted my invitation?”
I shook my head.
“Because of Josh?”
My gaze flitted around the room. I couldn’t look her in the eye when I lied. “Not really.”
“Uh-huh. You know, teenage girls aren’t the only ones who need an older woman to talk to. What happened with you and my idiot son?”
“Nothing. We’re just not...” What could I say? I opted for, “...compatible.”
Her forehead pleated with worry lines. “Who told you that?”
“No one. No one had to tell us. We had an argument that made our differences obvious.”
“So one disagreement, and you no longer care about Josh? After all the years he pined for you, and all the trips to your hospital to get you to notice him?”
“He did not pine for me.”
Her gentle laughter mocked my denial. “The very first night you babysat for us, I checked on my children when we came home. Josh was wide awake, waiting for me. He told me, ‘Someday, I’m going to marry Francesca.’”
Well, rub my head and call me Bunny. “He was eight years old the first night I babysat,” I argued. “I was his first crush, that’s all.”
The knowing smile never left her face. “He always knew you were the girl for him. One thing I can tell you about the men in this family: They don’t give their hearts to just any woman. Once they fall in love, it’s for good. Josh fell early, but he fell forever.”
Was that another Korean tradition? Did Josh have to marry the first woman he crushed on? Even if he was a little boy at the time? And his crush was his babysitter?
“I hate to break it to you, but I think Josh might have changed his mind.”
“No, he didn’t. He just doesn’t know how to reach you and make things right between you.” She wagged a finger at me, making me feel like I was eight. “Do you have any idea how miserable he is right now? Imagine that. My Joshua. My sunny boy who was born laughing hasn’t cracked a smile since last week. And I’m guessing you haven’t, either. He goes to work, he comes home, runs out the door again, comes home and collapses into bed, exhausted. All so he doesn’t have to think about how much he misses you. Is that what you’re doing? Is this what you both want? To be alone and miserable? To leave my son alone and miserable? When you could be happy together?” She gestured for me to bend closer, and when I complied, she kissed my cheek. “Think about it, Francesca. And enjoy your gift.”
I waited until her car had pulled away before I brought the package into the kitchen and removed the lovely wrapping. Nestled inside the box on a bed of cotton were seven crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Talk about trying to buy my affection! Couldn’t the Candoleros have given me a nice bottle of wine? What was I supposed to do with seven hundred dollars? Did they still consider me their babysitter? Or was this supposed to be a dowry? I remembered a friend who’d gone to a wedding for a couple from Thailand. She’d told me about scads of money and jewels paid to the bride’s family, called a bride’s price. Did Korea have something similar?
Totally confused, I turned on my laptop and looked up Korean gift traditions. Within a few minutes of Internet-surfing, I understood a little better. Money was the quintessential gift in Mrs. C.’s culture. Seven was a lucky number. And alcohol was a no-no as far as gifts went for women. Okay, then. She wasn’t trying to buy a bride for her son or a counselor for her daughter.
For kicks and giggles, and because now my curiosity burned brighter than the sun, I also looked up Korean courtship traditions. Just as I feared: after one date, it was assumed a couple was in a committed relationship. Awesome. And even better, it was perfectly normal for the guy in the relationship to seriously pursue his love interest from Day One.
I supposed I should have been grateful Mrs. C. hadn’t shown up with a wedding dress.
Why hadn’t I Googled all this information before agreeing to that first date with Josh?
A few facts didn’t fit, thank God. Josh had never held my purse in public, which I might have paid seven hundred dollars to witness. So far, we’d avoided wearing matching t-shirts. And I hadn’t sent him chocolates. Yet. Should I?
But I had to wonder. Her comment about how miserable Josh was and how he didn’t know how to reconnect with me. Surely, he realized he could just call me and say, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Unless he didn’t think he was wrong…
Aaargh! Thre
e weeks ago, I’d had a normal life. Now, all of a sudden, I was enmeshed in some Candolero game of Telephone, wanting to talk to Josh, but only hearing from the females in the family. I closed my laptop and finished getting ready for work. At least I had somewhere to go to keep my mind off Josh. And his family.
Chapter 19
Emily
When we turned onto my block, my stomach flipped. While still at the corner, I spotted the sleek, late-model sedan in my driveway—my in-laws’ rental car, no doubt. I inhaled a shaky breath.
Sam’s attention veered from the road to me. “You okay?”
My throat closed up. I nodded. Tremors racked my limbs. Despite my doctor’s advice and the meds administered at the hospital, my heart hammered against my ribcage. Breathe. Count to ten. You can face her.
Sam pulled behind the sedan in my driveway, and my mother-in-law opened the front door. Oh, boy. Here we go.
I stumbled up the stairs and came face-to-face with the dragon lady.
“Emily.” Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes clearly communicated her anger. She looked past me to Sam, who stood behind me. “I see it didn’t take you long to find another man to replace your husband.”
My face burned. Embarrassed or not, too many years of swallowing my tongue kept me silent under her direct assault. But I’d forgotten about Paige who lurked behind Sam.
“And a woman, too,” she said with a bright smile. “Apparently, Em’s flexible that way.” She shoved out her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Handler. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Paige Wainwright.”
For the first time since I met her twenty years ago, my mother-in-law sputtered. “Paige?”