by Julie Caille
Moreover, he had developed an interest in her idea. Each day after school, Ronnie had gone to the kitchen table after school, forehead furrowed with concentration as he sketched and colored the illustrations for the story he’d decided to write. The words hadn’t come yet, but the pictures were stories unto themselves, betraying the child’s fear, pain and anger at the senseless tragedy that had altered his young life.
Clearly, too, Ronnie’s pictures of Luke demonstrated how much he idolized his uncle. Not that Alicia hadn’t observed this for herself. Each night when Luke came home from work, he and Ronnie did “guy” things in the backyard—wrestling or pitching a baseball or kicking the soccer ball around. Alicia would listen to Ronnie’s joyful shrieks with a tug at her heartstrings, knowing a male role model wasn’t something she could offer him. Yes, she could participate in their play, but that didn’t change the fact that she hardly had a backyard, much less a man in her life who would do such things with the boy. With a sigh, she discounted Nick Easton. As good a friend as he was, she knew they were drifting apart.
She had never intended to stay in Houston this long, never planned to leave the matter of Ronnie’s future unresolved all this time. Again and again, she had started to discuss the matter with Luke, but he seemed to want to avoid the subject. In fact, it almost seemed as though he wanted things to go on as they were—the three of them together.
Which was impossible.
For that to happen, Luke would have to ask her to marry him. Even more importantly, he’d have to say that he loved her. And she’d have to believe, really believe that he meant it, that he loved her as much as she loved him. That he wasn’t just saying the words to make her happy—
“Look out!”
Taken by surprise, she barely caught the ball Ronnie had launched rather haphazardly over his uncle’s head. For the child’s entertainment, Luke repeated his previous performance and landed on his back at her feet.
“I thought it was going to hit you,” he explained, scanning the length of her bare legs with masculine appreciation.
“Sorry, Ronnie, but I need to take a break.” Tossing the ball aside, Alicia sank to the ground and flicked a piece of grass from Luke’s shoulder. “Thanks. I was daydreaming.”
“I could tell.” He reached for her hand. He lay on his back, knees drawn up, his gaze resting on her face. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She looked down at their entwined fingers. “I was thinking we need to come to some decision about Ronnie. Also, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve got to go back up north for a few days. My boss called today. There’s a small crisis at work, but it can wait ’til after the weekend. I’ll leave Monday and come back Friday.” She paused. “If it’s okay to come back.”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Luke’s thumb stroked across her palm. “Do you think I want to get rid of you?”
“Well, I can’t stay forever.”
She thought, even hoped, he might comment on this, but instead he said, “So what’s going on? They can’t run the company without you?”
“The project I was working on has gone into cardiac arrest. George, the fellow I left in charge, quit today. My boss wants me back to make the presentation to upper management.”
His thumb swept across her wrist. Something in his eyes, in the insistent pressure of his fingers, told her he wanted her flat on the grass beside him. Her heart did a few rapid skips at the thought.
“Don’t,” she warned, and withdrew her hand.
Luke shot the child a glance, but Ronnie had wandered over to swing on a rope tied to the branch of a sweet gum tree. “Don’t worry, Alicia. I’m minding my manners.” His eyes skimmed her face. “You look tired.”
“I am. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Lonely?”
“Yes,” she confessed, then wondered if the admission was wise.
“Me, too.” His mouth curved just a little. “One of these nights is going to be the right night,” he said softly. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me which one.”
“You mean you’re not going to seduce me?” She tried to make the question playful, but she had a feeling she sounded breathless and unsure.
His eyes blazed, stoking an answering fire inside her, a fire that began in the pit of her stomach and moved outward, flashing through her nerve endings with the force of an inexorable current. “Do you want me to seduce you?” he asked huskily.
“I don’t know.” She moistened her lips. “I’m not sure about anything right now.”
Still, the pull between them was so strong that she could not resist the urge to touch him. Forgetting Ronnie, forgetting everything but Luke, she reached out and smoothed her palm across his chest and downward across his taut, hard belly. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt the responsive shudder of muscle beneath her fingertips. Then he recaptured her hand and held it fast, effectively ending what she had not meant to start.
“Just let me know,” he murmured. “When you decide, I mean. Or if you want me to seduce you, just flutter your lashes or something. I promise I’ll catch on real fast.”
She had to laugh, albeit shakily. “All right.”
He pushed himself up to a sitting position. “In the meantime,” he said, his arms on his raised knees, “how about if we plan a date?”
“A date?”
“You know, one of those old-fashioned, preplanned appointments men make with women they’re attracted to? We get a sitter for Ronnie, you put on something pretty and I—”
“You put on something pretty, too?” she teased, her heart flipping back and forth like a whole netful of butterflies. The mere idea of dating Luke was very, very dangerous.
And totally irresistible.
He gave her a smile that melted her bones. “And I do my best to look like a guy who deserves to be with you.”
* * *
“I don’t know what to write.” Ronnie stared at the picture he had drawn of his house, the elegant West University house with its landscaped lawn and three-car garage. In the driveway, he had placed his mother and father on one side of a sleek black car, and himself on the other.
Alicia studied it with him. “How about something about the way things were before? What you did every day, maybe.”
Ronnie thought this over. “Like when they went to work and I went to school?”
“Yes, the everyday things.”
It took half an hour for Ronnie to decide what to say. First he ate his after-school yogurt and pondered, then he penciled a few words, erased and almost gave up. But at last, with only a little help from Alicia, he wrote:
Once upon a time I lived in a big wite house with my mom and dad. Most of the time I waz hapy. Eksep sometimes when my mom and dad got mad.
“How’s that?” He looked expectantly at Alicia.
“That’s excellent, Ronnie.” She hesitated. “Did they get mad at you, sweetheart?”
He shook his head. “Just at each other. They had lots of fights.”
So Luke had been right.
Without prompting from her, he added more.
They liked to werk. They werked a lot. Somtimes they had fites. I went to kinnergardn and day kare. On weekens I went to see my Unkel Luke.
The next drawing was of Luke and Ronnie. Luke stood very tall and wore a cowboy hat and boots. Ronnie’s head reached the top of Luke’s hip.
Unkel Luke is lots of fun. He plays with me. He looks like a real cowboy but hes not. He is reel good at fixin things that are brok. He has a stoor. I like to go ther and play on the komputr.
“You really love Uncle Luke, don’t you?” Alicia asked softly.
Ronnie nodded and bit his lip, obviously fighting a wave of emotion. “I loved Mommy and Daddy, too,” he said in a trembling voice.
Alicia reached for him. “Go ahead and cry, honey. It’s okay. Don’t try to hold it back.”
As his face scrunched up, she lifted him out of the chair and carried him into the other
room. Together they sat on the sofa, Ronnie cradled on her lap, his body heaving with sobs that seemed dredged from the very center of his soul. He felt small in her arms—small and sweet and infinitely precious. And as she held him and comforted him, she had the oddest fancy that Caroline and Richard were in the room with them, watching peacefully.
A long, long time passed, and then he quieted.
“I love you, Aunt Alicia.” The whispered words were almost too faint to hear, yet she heard them, not only with her ears but with her heart.
“I love you, too, Ronnie.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Will you stay here forever with me and Uncle Luke?”
The simple innocence of the question brought tears to her eyes. “I don’t think so, darling. I wish I could. But I have a life up in Massachusetts. I have a home and a job and friends I have to go back to. I came to Houston to be with you for a while, but I can’t stay forever.”
“Maybe if you asked Uncle Luke, he would let you.”
“Your uncle and I are friends, but not the special kind that wants to be together. He has his life, and I have mine.” She paused. “I’d love to have you come and live with me, if you’d like to change your mind.”
Ronnie was silent for a handful of seconds. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said at last.
“You want to stay with Uncle Luke.”
“Are you mad?” he asked timidly.
Alicia let out a groan and hugged him, the light, gentle fragrance of his hair, of baby shampoo, reminding her how young he really was. “No, sweetheart, no. I could never be mad at you.”
“I love you, but Uncle Luke needs me. He doesn’t have anybody but me. He’d get lonely without me.”
Alicia shut her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, her voice hollow with resignation. “You and your uncle need each other. Maybe you can come and visit me instead. During one of the school holidays.”
“Okay,” he said. “You won’t leave yet, will you?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
He raised his head, his blue eyes anxious. “Will you stay ’til Halloween?”
“Oh, Ronnie, that’s a whole month away. I can’t stay that long.”
“How long then?”
“I won’t leave before you finish your story,” she promised.
She then distracted Ronnie with a knock-knock joke, which led to a whole round of nonsense and laughter. And then the phone rang, bringing the excitement of an invitation to a Saturday-night sleepover at Brian’s house. With the resilience of youth, Ronnie recovered his smiles.
Alicia only wished it were as easy for her.
* * *
Luke squirted shampoo into his hair, welcoming the stinging spray of hot water against his naked body. His day had been hectic and tiring. Thanks to a recent thunder-and-lightning storm, they’d had a run of repair jobs and service calls. When a telephone pole or a tree took a direct hit of lightning, the current could flash over into a nearby house, inflicting damage to anything with an electrical circuit. Appliances weren’t designed to withstand a hundred million volts. Business increased accordingly. And customers got antsy because they had to deal with insurance claims.
But he was glad he’d been busy. For the past two days, his date with Alicia had hung in his mind, ever since he’d learned about Brian Redford’s sleepover. Naturally he’d been smart enough to seize such a golden opportunity. Yep, tonight was the night. For the first time since her arrival, they would be alone from dusk until dawn.
Alone.
Possibilities streaked through his head, along with a current of awareness that could have melted a few wires. He shut off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his hips as he eyed himself in the mirror. His face stared back at him, his anticipation visible, at least to himself. Don’t get your hopes up, pal. Or something else is bound to come up, too.
As he reached for his razor, he recalled other dates and evenings with Alicia. He’d taken a fair number of cold showers during those long-ago weeks, but he’d understood and respected her wish that they not make love until after they were married. One corner of his mouth quirked. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so understanding if he’d known that day would never come.
They were older now, more mature. She’d been married and divorced; he’d taken other women to bed. He knew a moment’s regret that Alicia had not been his first, and the feeling expanded when he remembered he had not been her first, either. Had that jerk she’d married treated her gently? Had he been attentive to her needs, sensitive to her inexperience?
The thought stayed with him as he dressed. And when he went downstairs to wait for her, to pace the floor and imagine what the evening had in store for them, she surprised him by being there ahead of him.
He halted in the living-room doorway. “Hi,” he said, his eyes trailing over her. God, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a white dress, probably cotton, with some sort of gold embroidery around the neckline and sleeves. The fabric clung to her figure, molded her breasts and hips and thighs in a way that sent sparks flying through his bloodstream. She also wore lipstick and mascara, just enough to show that she wanted to look her best for him.
“Hi,” she answered, her smile rather shy.
Talk about déjà vu. She had smiled exactly like that the evening of their first date, and looked just about as virginal. He had taken her out to dinner, some Italian place, and to the movies. What had they seen? He’d forgotten long ago, probably because his attention had been focused on the girl at his side rather than on the screen. He remembered they’d gone to a diner afterward and sat for hours over coffee and doughnuts talking about everything and anything. Except, of course, the things he hadn’t wished her to know.
A decade later, it still didn’t seem quite right to take her out to dinner in a pickup truck, but she hadn’t minded then, and she didn’t seem to mind now. She climbed in with her usual aplomb, arranged the folds of her skirt and smiled at him as he shut her door. He walked around to the driver’s side, wishing she would slide over and sit in the middle the way she used to do.
He’d selected an Italian restaurant, a place called DiStephano’s that Joey and Nora had recommended. A dark-haired waiter gave them a table along the wall, near a bearded guitar player strumming music from The Godfather.
“It’s not as fancy as I thought it would be,” he commented, glancing around at the restaurant’s creative decor.
Alicia followed his gaze to the painted scenes of Venice above their heads. Her smile widened as she noticed the lines of laundry strung between a pair of wooden balconies. “It’s charming, Luke. I can pretend I’m in Italy.”
He looked at her curiously, hearing the wistfulness and longing in her voice. “Is that something you’d like to do? Go to Italy?”
“It’s not something I’m likely to do,” she said with a resigned shrug. “I always imagined traveling with my husband and children, but Kenny hated flying, so Europe was out. And now, well, I’ve used up all my vacation days and then some.”
“How come you never had kids?”
She looked down, her face clouding. “Kenny didn’t want them.”
But she obviously did, which was a revelation in itself. However, since the subject distressed her, he let it go and steered the conversation back to travel. Tonight he was at ease, free of the choking inhibitions that so often leashed his tongue. Why this was, he didn’t know. Maybe it had something to do with hope. Because he had found it again, that seductive emotion, and it was giving him new access to old dreams. It allowed him to envision a future for himself, a future that included Alicia and Ronnie and maybe other children, even grandchildren.
While the guitarist performed songs like “La Dolce Vita” and “Torna a Surriento” softly in the background, they sipped Chardonnay and spoke of places they yearned to go—places like London and Lucerne, Capri and Rome. And all the while, Luke’s senses were growing more acute, his perceptions intensify
ing to the zenith of their potential. The pulse at the base of Alicia’s throat, the rise and fall of her breasts, the faint outline of her nipples against the front of her dress—he absorbed it all. Amid the smells of flowers and food, he picked up her faint, feminine scent, a unique blending of perfume and the dizzying heat of her body. He could hear every guitar note, every fluctuation in Alicia’s voice. He could taste every condiment, every herb that flavored the food. He could even taste her lips, though he knew this was a product of imagination and memory.
When the last plate was removed, he reached for her hand, studying the shape of her graceful fingers and the fine texture of her skin. “You got rid of your wedding ring,” he said in a low voice.
“No, I still have it. It’s a silly thing to keep, a ring from someone you don’t love.” Her head bowed a little, her golden hair falling forward to hide her expression. “Someday maybe I’ll have the diamond reset into a pin.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to ask if she’d ever consider wearing his ring instead, but it suddenly seemed too soon, too wildly risky. So he brushed a finger over her palm and said, “You know what I’d like to do right now?”
She raised her head, the depths of her eyes reflecting age-old feminine knowledge. “The same thing I do, I imagine.”
White-hot desire shimmered through him as he leaned forward, watching the way she blushed in the candlelight. He found that blush amazing and very sweet. “Can you imagine it?” he asked softly. “I can. I can imagine everything, every detail of how it’s going to be for us.”
“So can I.” She whispered the words, but her eyes boldly sought his as though she found him as fascinating as he found her. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like,” she confessed, “the two of us together.”
Erotic images danced through his head, but he decided not to describe them to her, at least not now. Fortunately for him the restaurant was dim, and his pants had a pleated front, but that was all that saved him from embarrassment. “So tonight’s the night?” he asked, praying he had not misread her signals.