Jules had to come first. Mica would do whatever it took to secure a good life for his son.
Rafe was still munching his cookie. “She really isn’t going to marry you, is she?”
“I don’t think so.” The words tasted sour.
“Dang,” Rafe commented. “I’d guessed that’s why she was back here.”
“You guessed wrong.”
“We all did, huh?”
“Yeah...” Mica looked down at his glass.
Rafe slid his arm around Mica’s shoulders and squeezed. “Carpe diem, bro.”
“Huh?”
“Take charge another way. He’s your kid.”
“She wants to leave him with me for several months. Then she’ll come back for him.”
Rafe’s eyes rounded. “So, what does that make you? Temp Daddy?”
Mica lifted his head, suddenly filled with strength. “Absolutely not. Never. I’m his father now and always.” Mica straightened his shoulders.
“Prove it.” Rafe nodded toward Grace. “To her.”
* * *
GRACE WATCHED MICA across the room by stealing glances at him as she talked to Mrs. Beabots and Isabelle. When she shifted Jules from her right to left shoulder, she saw Rafe and Mica talking. She didn’t know what Rafe had said to Mica but Mica’s demeanor had changed. He walked toward her, his intense blue eyes riveted on her face. That was one of the things she’d always loved about Mica. He wasn’t the kind of person whose attention flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. He focused on one person at a time, as if there was no one else in the world.
She remembered that. And so many other things.
Like the feel of his lips on hers. The way he held her to his chest with so much strength he didn’t need two arms. But she wasn’t here to tell him those things.
She didn’t dare.
“Mind if I hold my son?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she replied, handing Jules to him. Jules smiled at Mica and the pacifier in his mouth dropped out. Grace had tied a ribbon to the pacifier and clipped it to Jules’s shirt, so it didn’t fall far.
“Hey, buddy. How’re you doin’? Forgive your dad for the tape incident?”
Jules whacked Mica’s cheek and giggled.
Mica blinked in surprise, then chuckled. “Does this mean we’re even?”
“I’m guessing.”
Mrs. Beabots smiled up at Mica. “I just had an idea. Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night, Mica?”
“Mrs. Beabots, no,” Grace protested. “You’ve done too much already.”
“Nonsense. I’ll make something special. Mica should spend time with you and Jules.”
Grace’s phone pinged. She looked down at the caller ID. “It’s Etienne. Again.”
“And he is?” Mica asked with an edge to his voice. Was that...jealousy? His face was too placid, perhaps too carefully controlled, for Grace to tell what he was thinking. Or feeling.
“My team leader. We had a deadline moved up.”
“On New Year’s?” he scoffed.
“There are no holidays in haute couture,” she grumbled and moved off to the side to take the call.
Within minutes, Grace heard the tinkle of a knife against a crystal wineglass and Sam’s voice calling everyone back to the living room.
“Sorry, Etienne. But the wedding...” she said haltingly.
“You want us to design a wedding dress?” Etienne asked.
“No. No. I’m at a wedding. I’ll have to call you back tomorrow.”
“Grace! Tu es une exaspération!” He hung up.
Grace put her phone away, feeling guilty. Her evening out would cause her team to fall another eight hours behind. Another workday lost. Coming to America might have been the worst move she’d made yet.
No, she admonished herself. Weeks and months from now, she’d be glad she told Mica about Jules and asked for his help.
The crowd gathered in the living room. The massive fireplace was built of rock and stone, with an opening so large, Grace thought she could walk into it without stooping. The wood mantel was covered with fresh cedar and pine boughs and studded with silver beads, balls, white lights and white satin ribbons.
Judge Harry Miller, a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man, held a bible and stood between Gina and Sam. Gina clutched a bouquet of white and red roses, while Sam, dressed in a black tuxedo, looked dashing and quite possibly more radiant than the bride as he reached out to take her hand.
Grace hadn’t moved or breathed since she’d taken her place next to Mica, who still held Jules. The room fell silent as Judge Miller began the ceremony, but Grace hardly noticed anyone...except Mica.
Grace shivered when their shoulders touched, and the way Jules snuggled down in the crook of Mica’s neck melted her heart. But Mica stared straight ahead, watching the interplay between his mother and Sam with an intensity she could almost touch.
Suddenly, it struck her that this happy moment for Gina might not be so joyful for Mica. Mica had been close with his father and often spoke reverently of Angelo. Mica loved his father, but it was more than that. He idolized him.
Tonight, his mother was marrying another man. Liz had told Grace the story about Gina and Sam and that their love for each other went back more than thirty years, to when Gina had first moved to Indian Lake. She’d barely been out of her teens and had promised Angelo she would come to America once he had established himself. Before she’d married him and moved to the farm, Gina had lived in town. And there she’d met Sam Crenshaw.
They’d gone to the movies and had sodas together and Sam had lost his heart, according to Maddie.
But Gina was a woman of honor and though she’d told Sam she loved him, she had been unwilling to go back on her promise to Angelo.
Then, two years ago, Angelo had had a heart attack and died one afternoon when he and Rafe were putting Rowan through his paces on the training track the two of them had built with their own hands.
With their own hands.
That was a Barzonni claim to fame. Everything on this farm had been built, sawed, painted, plowed and seeded by a Barzonni. Mica shared in that history.
Grace tilted her head to the left and watched Mica’s reaction as Gina put a ring on Sam’s finger.
Had Mica just winced? Or was he reacting to Jules?
The judge continued reciting the vows.
Gina’s “I do” was loud and clear and overflowed with happiness.
As Sam put a ring on Gina’s finger, Grace could swear Mica’s face had paled. In the flickering firelight, she was certain she detected a mist in his eyes.
Her heart went out to him. She’d been so enthralled and immersed in her own concerns, her business and her baby that she hadn’t made room for all the emotions that Mica was going through. She’d been prepared for his shock and his anger. But this? What was all this?
This wedding had been sprung on all of them. Mica hadn’t had a chance to process any of it. And talk about bad timing. Grace had shown up on his doorstep with his baby on the day Sam had proposed.
Did he feel his mother was dishonoring his father? Or did he feel that his mother had been cheated of real love all her life, and that this was Gina’s last grasp at happiness?
Mica had always kept his emotions in check. Even last year, he hadn’t been romantic or rhapsodic about their relationship. At the time, and in the months since, she’d chalked it up to the fact that their time together was so short. She’d always intended to return to Paris. Like she did now. But maybe she’d mistaken his need to protect himself for a lack of care.
It was possible all she was feeling was guilt, but the truth was, she’d loved him since she was fifteen. Coming back to Indian Lake, learning about the accident and losing herself in
his mournful and confused blue eyes had confirmed it. Or so she thought. But this flood of compassion and warmth for Mica, of caring for him as much as she cared about Jules or herself, was new. And she didn’t know what to make of it.
She no more belonged in Indian Lake than she did on Mars. But right now, Mica needed a friend. He was hurting and lost and she wanted to ease his pain.
Grace slid her arm around Mica’s waist and leaned into him. She wished she knew exactly what he was feeling so she could say the right thing. Mica was extraordinarily silent about nearly everything.
In some ways, this moment was no different. He didn’t speak or even look at her. But he didn’t move away, didn’t flinch when she rested her head on his shoulder.
The gesture was so slight, but coming from Mica, it was meaningful. With each hour she spent with him, she was beginning to understand him better.
She simply wanted him to know that she cared about him—and wanted to help, even if he didn’t want her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MICA WAS IN the process of programming a microcontroller on a voice-activated circuit board when his iPhone rang. He ignored the phone and plugged the input supply into a 12-volt battery. Though the microphone that came with the unit was adequate, he wondered if using a more highly sensitive piece would be better.
With the plethora of commands needed to operate a tractor, his invention would require a highly sensitive microphone that shut out all other machinery sounds and featured voice-recognition software that could understand a variety of accents and dialects. And Mica was not a coding expert. He needed a partner or corporation that could provide the software he needed to create a final product. He was using a voice-recognition app for his prototype, but until he could find a coding expert, Mica was stuck. Still, it felt good to be back in the workshop, bringing his ideas to life. His conversation with Rafe at the New Year’s party had lit a fire under Mica, and he was grateful for that spark.
The iPhone quit ringing. Then it beeped. Someone had left a voice mail.
Mica carried the unit over to the tractor he’d parked inside the mechanics shed. Earlier, he’d raised the hood on the engine, propped it up with a sturdy rod and placed a very bright work light inside. Painstakingly, he’d pried off the dashboard and exposed the wires and dials inside the tractor’s operator cabin—such as it was. This was a 1982 Allis-Chalmers 8050 and Mica’s favorite. He called it the Red Angel. Painted glossy, tomato red, this old tractor had an enclosed cabin that allowed farmers to drive in the windiest of spring planting weather or through October’s icy rains.
Mica had recently realized the enclosed cabin offered even more advantages, especially for his accessible designs.
Voice activation would help people with mobility issues, but what about those with asthma or other breathing difficulties who still wanted to work the fields? Mica added an air-filtration system to his mental list of features for his invention.
He hooked the output supply connector to the ignition wires, trying not to get frustrated that it took him more than double the time it used to when he’d had the use of both hands. He was determined.
The phone rang again and he ignored it; if Rafe or his mother wanted him, they knew where to find him.
Mica plugged in the microphone. He’d set up the system to require two commands within a certain time frame in order to activate the unit.
“Ignition on,” he said. After a second he added, “Ignition stay.”
The LED light number lit up, indicating the presence of his voice. For another second, nothing happened.
Then the tractor roared to life.
“Eureka!” He shot his good arm up in the air, grinned widely and did a little jig, his boots smacking against the cement floor.
“I did it!”
He stopped and his face fell as he stared at the tractor. His victory was small. Crude and rudimentary. In the scheme of things, getting the tractor to start was inconsequential. Mica was eager to move to the next phase, when he could command all the gears, brakes, speed and steering. He also wanted to install handgrips on the vertical walls on either side of the entrances about three feet above the running boards. He envisioned drop-down steps that would make it easier for a person with limited leg movement to climb into the cabin. One of the things that he’d noticed about farm equipment was that a person with any kind of hip, knee or even back issue often needed a hydro-lift to get into the vehicle. Mica had come up with ideas to change that.
Programming and turning on the tractor was the first thing he’d accomplished on his own since the accident. But he still had a long way to go. “For now, I need to take this baby out for a test drive.”
Mica hit the garage-door button. As the door moved upward, Mica sucked in his breath.
“What in the world?”
He stared out at a gorgeous snowfall. Fat, white flakes the size of feathers floated to the ground. Mica had lost track of time since he’d come to the shed shortly after breakfast. He’s been so deeply focused on his work that he hadn’t thought about the time. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly two o’clock.
“Beautiful.” He smiled. “So beautiful.”
A series of rings interrupted his thoughts again. Mica strode over to the worktable. “What can be so important that—” He lifted his phone and read the caller ID.
Grace? He tapped the screen and took the call. “Grace.”
“Oh, you’re there,” she said. She sounded a little out of breath, as if she’d been running. “Mica. I’m so glad. I know you told Mrs. Beabots you’d come for dinner tonight, but I need a really big favor.”
“A favor?” He couldn’t stop the surge of irritation that rose inside him. She had kept Jules from him for six months, then shown up unannounced, expecting Mica to take over on a moment’s notice. What bigger favor could there be? As much as his love for his baby boy was growing, he didn’t appreciate the way Grace was playing on his emotions. Since she’d arrived in Indian Lake, he’d felt like he was in a pinball machine, his emotions being batted all over the place. No wonder he liked working on machines. Much less angst.
He ran his tongue over his lips, then glanced at his tractor as he considered giving her an excuse.
“Mica, I need you,” she said in that soft, breathy voice he remembered from those haunting nights when he’d held her so close he could smell her French perfume... “Please. It’s about Jules.”
That did it. “What is it? Is he okay?”
“Yes. Well, er, he’s a bit cranky. It’s my team in Paris. We have a Skype conference this afternoon, and Mrs. Beabots is making a fabulous soup for us tonight. I can’t possibly interrupt her and ask her to watch Jules. It wouldn’t be fair—she’s done so much. And I’m—”
“You sound frazzled.”
“I’m at my wits’ end, Mica. I was up all night with Jules. I think being sick and then the party and the wedding...it was too much for him.”
“You want me to come over and take care of him while you conduct business. That about it?”
He could hear her intake of breath. It hit him that she had been afraid to call him. That she was truly worried he would turn her down. Part of him wanted to. But she’d come here to help him learn how to be Jules’s father. And now when she was presenting him with an opportunity to bond with his son, he was tempted to turn it down out of spite.
As aloof as he could sometimes be, Mica didn’t consider himself to be self-centered. Maybe he was.
For so long, keeping his life simple and uncomplicated, avoiding relationships and all their drama had seemed like a wise choice. He kept busy with the farm and his machines. Then, the accident had made withdrawal seem like his only option. The upheaval that Grace had brought with Jules had changed everything. Already, he’d needed to call his brothers for help. He’d sought their advice. He’d found
value in their family friends’ interest in Jules. They cared about Grace and the baby. It was even possible they cared about him. And that had been the greatest revelation of all.
Mica wanted to be the kind of guy who people liked and wanted to be friends with. He wanted Grace to be his friend. Besides, if he couldn’t even get along with her, how could he expect her to marry him?
“How soon?”
“How soon can you get here?”
“I need to clean up. I’ve been in the shed all morning and I’m kinda...” He looked down at his old, grease-covered jeans and his faded Purdue sweatshirt. “I’m a mess. Give me an hour.”
“See you later, Mica.”
He hung up and went back to the tractor and said, “Ignition off. Ignition stay.”
The tractor turned off.
Grace had come here expecting Mica to take over his share of the parenting. Since last night, he’d been hoping she would call soon. Or he was going to call her. He needed to spend time with Jules and learn as much as he could about his son and his care.
Yet he realized his need to work all morning had come from the understanding that he was no longer a selfish, singular man in this world. He had obligations and responsibilities now. He had Jules, and he didn’t want his son to grow up and be any less proud of him than Mica had been of his father.
If he was to examine his dreams the way he dissected a tractor engine, Mica would see that his goals hadn’t changed since he’d gone to college. He’d always wanted to create a better way to farm. A better harvester. A more finely tuned combine. Conveyors that more accurately planted tomato plants. He had wanted to improve farm life through machinery.
But now he saw the needs of others in a different light and that illumination gave rise to his new inventions.
Jules had given him the motivation he’d been lacking to take those ideas to the next level. Given Mica new hope and a new vision. He would do anything for his son.
His Baby Dilemma Page 12