by Mary Campisi
Stephanie took the high road with a few kind words. “It’s perfectly fine. I know you didn’t mean to negate Mason’s existence.” The softness in her voice could melt glaciers, make believers out of all of them. “Tess and Cash belong together; anybody can see that.” She helped herself to a banana-nut muffin, met Mimi’s gaze. “That’s why I’m so happy they’re here for my son and will give him a loving home.” She paused, added, “When I’m gone. But it’s not just Tess and Cash who’ll be here for Mason. It’s the whole community. There’s such a sense of love and protection, and I want Mason to know that.” More glacier-melting. “I hope you’ll all be able to accept him for the wonderful child he is and not hold the way he got here against him.”
“We would never do that,” Mimi blurted out, ball earrings bouncing back and forth with serious conviction. She reached out, placed a work-roughened hand over Stephanie’s. “You have nothing to fear, dear. We’ll take care of your boy.”
Oh, but Mimi was sucked in, faster and harder than a newly unclogged drain. Pop still had his doubts and from the extra wrinkle lines on Tula Rae’s face, so did she. Too many unanswered questions yet, and there was still Lester Conroy’s nosing around that hadn’t produced a phone call or a report yet. But it would. All in due time. For now, Pop and Tula Rae would continue to gather bits and pieces of information they could pitch patch into answers.
“How on this earth have you been able to get by, what with your illness and the outcome so gloomy?” Tula Rae teared up and Pop couldn’t tell if it was an act or serious business. “Can you still get to work? What is it you do?”
“I’m in advertising.”
“Ah.” More wrinkles. “Like trying to convince people to buy makeup, food, clothing, or the like because they’re supposed to keep us from getting old and decrepit?”
Stephanie offered a smile she probably kept in stock for the naysayers in her line of work: people like Pop and Tula Rae. “I sell ideas, yes, and if they’re good, our company gets a lot of support for the products we’re promoting.”
“Pushing ideas. I get it.” Tula Rae narrowed her beady gaze on the woman’s face. “You use any of those products yourself?”
“I do.”
“So, like what exactly?”
“Tula Rae, I don’t think it matters what Stephanie sells, does it? We’re not advertising people.”
“You got a point, Pop, but what this little lady might want to know is how we feel as the consumer.” She eyeballed Stephanie. “No?”
The pale pink rose blush covered Stephanie’s face and neck, spread to her ears. “Actually, Tula Rae, we wouldn’t be targeting you.”
“You wouldn’t? Why not? ’Cause I’m old? ’Cause I’m a woman or is it the wrinkles that got you turning your nose up at people like me? Or maybe you’d like to see me in designer duds and jewels, is that it?”
Hah, but Pop was sure glad Tula Rae was fighting alongside him instead of against him. She might be a chicken-bird of a woman but she was not one he’d want to cross, and she had a point. In fact, she had lots of good points but now was not the time to ferret out the particulars of Stephanie Richmond’s job, except for the are-you-still-working-and-supporting-yourself part. Besides, Anthony was in advertising and Pop might just give him a call if he got stuck on the details of what an advertising person did. “I don’t think she meant any harm or offense, Tula Rae. I think the world sees the likes of us as old and used up, and that’s just fine. How are you gonna sell a face product with wrinkles like that or convince a body to buy the latest get-up when we’re wearing fashions from ten years or more ago? Not important to us, because we know it’s about a lot more than how you look, though some don’t see it that way.” He nodded, rubbed his jaw. “That’s who they’re after. The ones that think that new pair of shoes is really gonna make them feel better for longer than 1.8 seconds. I say it’s pretty dang smart on the advertiser’s part.”
Tula Rae studied him, thin lips pinched, skinny arms crossed over her middle. She didn’t say a word, just stared. He knew the second she caught on to his game because her eyes sparked and she sat up real straight in her chair, snatched a pizzelle, and said, “Point taken, Angelo. Point taken.” Then her gaze landed on Stephanie and she nodded. “You’re a sharp one, I can see that.”
Mimi cleared her throat, patted Stephanie’s hand, and pushed out her next words like they were stuck partway in her mouth and didn’t want to come out. “How do you work and support yourself and Mason?”
“It’s been hard.” A sigh, a hand swipe across the forehead. “We manage, but barely. There are the medical bills and the household expenses.” She looked up, eyes drenched in tears. “I can’t keep up, and then with Mason’s school and outside activities.” More tears, this time slipping down her cheeks, landing on her pale blue shirt. “Is it fair to steal his entire childhood because I got sick? I have no idea what his future looks like; the least I can do is give him as much normalcy as I can right now.” She bent her head, swiped at her nose, and whispered, “For as long as I can.”
It was Pop’s turn to pat Stephanie’s hand. He shot a look at Tula Rae who raised a brow and nodded toward the crying woman as if to say something’s fishier than day-old sardines. He nodded back, caught Mimi eyeing them with a narrowed gaze like she thought they’d pinned a “guilty” sign on Stephanie’s back. Mimi was getting turned around and not seeing straight. Was it because Cash’s ex carried a resemblance to Mimi’s estranged daughter? He’d noticed it right away and the more he thought on it, the more he spotted the likeness. The hair, the eyes, the gestures. What mother wouldn’t be partial to a stranger who resembled her child, and even more so if she hadn’t talked to the child in years? How many was it? Nine? Ten? There’d been a big brouhaha about it, words that couldn’t be taken back, threats to call the police and press charges, a demand to break off the relationship with the man who had come between them. Mimi had given her daughter a choice and it hadn’t been her.
“Of course we understand,” Mimi said. “We’ll help you, child.” More hand patting and a murmured, “Don’t you worry about a thing. This town is known for helping those in need, and dear Lord, you are certainly in need.”
And that was all Mimi asked about the women’s livelihood or how she paid her electric bill. She was downright protective, like the mother deer that birthed a fawn on the wooded area of Jack Finnegan’s lot a few years ago and wouldn’t let anybody near. Tula Rae clammed up when Mimi threw an arm around Stephanie and pulled her close. There’d be a lot to chew on later, when he and Tula Rae met up for a recap of what happened, what didn’t happen, and why. They’d figure it out between them, no doubt about that, and once Lester Conroy weighed in, they’d act on the information—one way or another. Pop blew out a quiet sigh. If Stephanie Richmond was less than truthful about this whole situation, then this was going to be a sad time for a lot of people, including Mimi.
10
“Dead people can’t hear what you’re saying.”
Lily shielded her eyes against the sky’s brightness and settled her gaze on a fluffy cloud. She liked those clouds, bet they were as soft as her dad’s flannel shirts. Nice and cozy…
“Lily?”
She shifted her gaze to her new friend, Mason Richmond. They’d met up in the area behind Nate’s workshop the past three days, shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pretzels, and cherries. Mason could spit cherry seeds twice as far as she could. He said if she brought more cherries, he’d teach her the trick to get her seed to go farther.
“You aren’t listening.”
“Am, too.” Kind of. She pointed to the sky. “See the fluffy cloud over there?”
“Is this about your dad again?” He tossed a stick in the field. “I told you, dead people don’t talk.”
“Yes, they do.” Why did he say that? Dad talked to her every day, and more than once.
“No way. You just think he’s talking, but you’re making up the words in your head.” He tossed anot
her stick in the field, this one bigger, clunkier. “That’s all it is, and you should stop saying that or people will call you a liar.”
“I am not a liar.” Why was he being mean? Lily sucked in air, tried to calm herself. “My dad is up there—” she pointed to the sky with her right hand, swiped at a tear with her left “—and he’s watching over me, and he does talk to me, and I talk to him.” She sniffed, stared at the fluffy cloud, and thought of the way her father’s voice used to turn soft when he read her a nighttime story. And then she remembered what Uncle Harry told her about people who didn’t believe in conversations with the dead. Lily swung her gaze to Mason and repeated the words. “Not everybody gets to have these conversations. You have to lose somebody you really, really love. And then you’ll know.” I love you, Daddy. Love, love, love you! “Did you ever lose somebody you really, really loved? Like a grandma or a grandpa?”
He shook his head, frowned like Nate did when he wasn’t happy. “Nope.”
“Oh. How about an aunt or an uncle?” He had to have somebody.
Another head shake, and then, “My aunt’s sick, though.” His shoulders drooped, his voice turned soft as the fluffy cloud in the sky. “She’s real sick. Dying.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
He nodded. “She’s the only other family I have,” he paused, shrugged. “Besides Cash.”
“I’m sorry. What’s her name?”
“Hildy.”
“Hildy.” Lily tried it out, liked the sound of it. “Aunt Hildy.”
His lips pulled into a tiny smile. “Yeah. Aunt Hildy.”
“Tell me about Aunt Hildy.” When he didn’t say anything, Lily waited like she did when she asked Nate a question and he was deciding how he wanted to answer it. Lily counted to sixteen before Mason spoke, his voice so quiet she had to lean toward him to hear.
“She said she was my guardian angel.”
Lily could tell that Mason really, really loved his aunt, and that meant one day, when Hildy was in heaven, he’d be able to talk to her, and she’d be able to talk to him, too.
CASH BARRELED UP THE DRIVEWAY, hopped out of the truck, and headed toward the house. Edith Finnegan had cornered him in the meat aisle of Sal’s Market twenty-five minutes ago and interrogated him about the supposed trip he was taking with the new woman in town and her son. I ran into Tess and she said you’re heading out of town. Where are you going? How long will you be gone? Word has it Tess isn’t going. A mortified look and a raised brow. Why isn’t your wife accompanying you? And then, Are there problems at home? Edith Finnegan regarded Tess and Cash’s story—from the heartbreaking split days before their wedding to the reunion and subsequent wedding to the wait for a baby—as though it were a romance novel. Tess said it was because Jack Finnegan’s sister was all alone—no husband, no children— and she’d finally found a way to believe in happily ever after. Great. Just what he wanted to be: someone’s idea of a romance novel. Cash had put on his best smile, ignored the small gathering of customers who seemed just as curious and eager as Edith to hear his answer, and said, Neither one of us is looking forward to this…especially the nights apart. You know how that is. That turned the woman purple and made her stutter so hard he thought she might have a heart attack.
Well, he wasn’t smiling now. He opened the screen door, stepped inside. “Tess?” No answer. Henry came running toward him from the bedroom, tail wagging, mouth open. Cash leaned over, petted him, and mumbled, “At least somebody in this house is happy.” Yeah, of the three of them, the rescue dog was the one who’d found a way to make it through this mess. “Tess?” Cash wandered into the bedroom, found her sitting on the edge of the bed, face drawn, mouth unsmiling. He rushed toward her, knelt by her side, his anger over Edith Finnegan’s comments forgotten. “Are you okay?” The smudges of mascara under her eyes and the swollen nose said she’d been crying. “Tess? Talk to me.” Cash reached out, clasped her hands in his.
She inched her gaze to his, opened her mouth, and pierced his soul. “We were never going to live our lives out together, were we?”
The sadness in her voice crushed him, but her words scared the hell out of him. “What are you talking about?” What was she talking about? He’d come home, hell bent on accusing her of spreading rumors about their situation, and she threw this at him? What did she mean? They were made to be together and she knew it. Sure, they were going through a damn tough time, but if she stuck by him, they’d get through it. That’s what people in love did; they stuck together and worked through it, no matter what. He couldn’t turn Mason away. He knew what that felt like, knew the repercussions of being an unwanted child. Tess wouldn’t want that for the boy. Cash touched her cheek. “Babe? Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I think it’s always been a matter of time before you and I had to admit there were too many issues between us.” She sniffed, her expression a mix of sadness and pain. “But oh, we had such dreams, didn’t we? All we needed was time to make those dreams come true. And then JJ died and that was the end for a long time.” Those beautiful eyes filled with tears. “But then we got a second chance and I really thought we’d make it.”
Fear choked the air from his lungs. “Tess, please don’t talk like that.”
Her next words wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed. “I can’t have babies, Cash, and it will be the single most painful disappointment in my life.”
“Birthing a baby doesn’t make a parent.” He leaned closer, held her gaze. “Being there for the child, loving him or her, no matter what, that makes a parent.”
She nodded. “Of course, you can say that because you have a child.”
Why couldn’t she understand what he was trying to tell her? “I’d say that if Mason were yours and you were introducing him to me.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She stood and stepped out of reach. “These last weeks have been nothing but a battle between us. We both want what I can’t give you. A child. Mason is your son, but he isn’t mine.”
He moved toward her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Was she leaving him? No. No! When she didn’t respond, he said, “You can’t just walk out.” His voice grew hoarse. “You can’t do this, Tess.”
“You’re a father, Cash. You need time to get used to your son and whatever that means for both of you.”
“Is this because of the trip? I have to go, I told you that. Stephanie’s dying, for chrissake, and Mason has no idea. I have to be there to help him adjust. In a few weeks, he’ll have to say good-bye to her forever. What do you think that’s going to do to him? Can’t you find it in your heart to open up and let him in? Let us both in?”
“From the moment that woman came to this town, she’s been pulling you toward her. I feel it. I know it, and I won’t be part of her sick game any longer. You’re being manipulated, Cash. Do not try to make this about me.”
Cash glared at her, spat out, “Isn’t it always about you? Hasn’t it been about you every damn month when you don’t end up pregnant? What do you think that does to a guy like me, who has to sit and watch his wife cry and be miserable, knowing in some way he’s responsible for those tears and that misery?”
She actually looked surprised by his words. “Why would you feel responsible? That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Really?” He’d held it all inside for so long, but what the hell? If she were going to give up on them, then he’d let her know what he’d carried around for months. “I vowed if you gave us a second chance, I’d give you everything you deserved. But the one thing I couldn’t give you was what you wanted most. And every month, I pretended not to hear you crying in the bathroom when you got your period, pretended not to notice how you studied Christine and Gina’s swollen bellies and the babies that came from them. I’m a man who takes his vows seriously and I couldn’t give my wife what she wanted.” He cleared his throat, rested his hands on his hips. “I take that personally.”
&n
bsp; Her lips trembled. “So you didn’t want to adopt?”
He blew out a breath, shook his head. “Of course I wanted to adopt. I wanted a family—with you. Hell, I was willing to add a bunch of Henry’s relatives if that made you happy, but a dog isn’t a child, is it?” When she shook her head, he said, “The boy needs us, Tess. I’m so damn sorry a child had to come to us this way, but we can’t turn our backs on him. We can be a family.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is.” He moved toward her, desperate to make her believe. “It can be.”
“No,” she said in a quiet voice. “Not with Stephanie between us. She’s trying to destroy us and it’s time you opened your eyes and saw what you’re about to lose.”
What did that mean? “So, what are you saying? Send her off on her own or you’ll leave me? Is that it?” He dragged a hand through his hair, tried to calm his growing agitation. Tess put him in a no-win situation, with choices of bad and worse. “Tess? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t know any mother who would send her child away, even if she were dying. Unless…she wasn’t dying…unless she had a whole other agenda that included a life with the child’s father.”
That actually made Cash laugh. “What do you think she’s going to do? Get rid of you?”
Tess narrowed her gaze on him. “In a manner of speaking, yes, that’s exactly what I think she might do.”
Why could he not have one day without drama or accusations? “Where does this leave us?”
“I’d say we’re at an impasse. I don’t trust Stephanie and don’t want you to go and you do trust her and feel you have to. I need time to think and you need to do whatever it is you have to do. When you get back in town, whenever that is, I guess we’ll see where we are.”
“And if we aren’t where you think we should be?” The words fell out in a quiet voice, as though his world weren’t crashing on top of him.