by Day Leclaire
“I know you don't want to leave. I also know you have to do what's right.” She turned then and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Alessandro. I love you. I wish you wouldn't leave.”
"I love you, Alessandro. You may not understand how that's possible. But I do."
She was killing him, inch by gut-wrenching inch. "I love you, too," he told her, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't you ever forget that."
"Never, I promise."
"When I come back—if you let me come back..."
He was helpless to resist.
“I’ll explain everything."
He wanted her.
"And if you're willing to let me stay..." Her voice broke, tears slipping down her cheeks. "If you'll—"
Needed her.
"If you'll still allow me in your life and Nicky's..."
"Meg?" Alessandro thrust the dream away, gripped by an urgency he couldn't explain. "Lauren? Honey?" She wasn't in his arms anymore and he sat up in alarm, terrified that he'd somehow lost her.
"I'm here." She brushed a hand across her face before moving from her stance beside the Christmas tree. A waning moon caught her in its gentle glow, dusting her with silver starlight. At some point, she'd put on her night shift and it floated around her in a transparent wisp, her nudity silhouetted against the stark white cotton. "I'm sorry to wake you."
He fought the remnants of the dream, troubled that Meg continued to hold center stage in them when it was Lauren he wanted. Why did the memories keep haunting him? It was almost as if he'd forgotten something, something he urgently needed to remember. "What time is it?"
"Just before midnight."
"Midnight?" His scrutiny sharpened. "What's wrong? What are you doing up?"
She shrugged, drifting close enough for him to see the telltale sheen of moisture on her cheeks. "Nothing's wrong. I had Christmas preparations to finish before morning.”
The suspicion that something was out of kilter grew stronger. "We're a pathetic pair, you know that?" he pretended to grouse. "We should have been able to sleep through the night just this once. After all, it's Christmas and all good boys and girls should be in bed." He flashed her a wicked grin. "Preferably together."
To his relief, she responded with an answering smile. "You and I did bed down together. We even shared a peaceful sleep." Her smile turned wry. "For a while, anyway."
"Until you left."
"What's going on, Alessandro? Wait. I think I can guess." Lauren knelt beside him and touched his shoulder, urging him backward into the thick carpet. "You had another of your dreams, didn't you?”
Damn. There were times she proved distressingly perceptive. Evasion seemed the sensible course of action. He was too tired to try anything else. "Your hands are like ice. Come here and let me warm you."
He tugged at her arm, sending her sprawling across him. Then he wrapped himself around her, allowing his heat to drive the chill from her body. Even holding her this close, images from the dream wouldn't go away. Something about a tree. And purple crocuses. He'd said something. Something wrong. But exhaustion kept him from remembering what.
"I'm not ready to go back to sleep, Alessandro," Lauren protested, even as she curled up against him. “I still have a few last chores to take care of."
"The chores can wait. Leave the rest for tonight. Anything else you want to fix up, can be done after breakfast. Nick won't mind, and neither will I. In fact, we'll both pitch in and help.”
"It won't take me long. I can get everything done real quick while you sleep."
"I'm not sure I can sleep. Not without you." He couldn't see her expression and it bothered him. But he didn't dare allow her to escape again. He knew with an absolute certainty that if she left his embrace, she wouldn't come back. "Would you rather we go to my bedroom? The mattress would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than the floor."
"Not yet. It's...it's almost Christmas. I'd like to welcome it here beneath the tree with you. It'll be a special memory."
It was a small thing to ask. "Okay. If that's what you want." Anything to keep her nearby. Another thought struck him. "Were you talking to me before I woke? I could have sworn I heard your voice."
"Yes." It was her turn to sound evasive.
"What did you say?"
"It's nothing important." Her hands were gentle on him. Loving. Reassuring. "It'll keep until morning.”
He pillowed her head with his shoulder and kept his arms tight around her. She wouldn't escape again. Not without him realizing it. He released his breath in a slow sigh. Everything would work out. They just needed time.
And they had plenty of that.
Then he slept, as did the woman in his arms. Peacefully, even dreamlessly, cocooned within each other's embrace.
Alessandro didn't know how much later he awoke. It was after midnight, but long before dawn. Above him the tree signified the arrival of Christmas, its boughs holding the outward expression of all their joy, while beneath the tree lay their fears—symbolized by the three very different faces of the woman whose ghost stood between them.
He knew his feelings for Meg must have been intense, the dreams told him that much. But he couldn't remember enough of the specifics or the full scope of his emotions at that time, to completely grasp the love he'd experienced or the loss of that love. Nor could his emotions have been as deep and everlasting as what he now felt for the woman in his arms. It wasn't possible.
He gazed at the figurines placed so lovingly beneath the tree and a profound sadness gripped him. So many regrets. A life cut far too short. A love that had never had a chance to ripen. A child who'd never know his true mother. But if even a tenth of the characteristics Lauren had used to describe her sister were true, Meg wouldn't object to his having found love again. Not when her last wish had been one of such unstinting generosity.
Not when she'd chosen as her final act to gift him with their baby.
He brushed a fingertip over each of Lauren's creations, one after another. "You understand, don't you? Maybe you even hoped it would happen." The three figurines remained frozen in their predetermined positions—contemplative, joyful, and quietly accepting. Alessandro knew the moment of decision had come. What had baseball great Yogi Berra always said? When you reach a fork in the road, take it?
Something like that. Well, he'd reached that fork and he was taking it because they both led to the same place—a life and home with the two people he loved most in the world.
Lauren stirred beside him. "Why are you frowning?" she asked, her voice sleep-husked.
He smiled tenderly. "Did my frowning wake you?"
"Yup." She rubbed rumpled silvery layers from her face. "I heard it clear as anything, right dab-smack in the middle of my dream."
"My frown's gone now. And it won't be back anytime soon."
"Promise?" Her voice faded as sleep reclaimed her.
"I promise, love." He glanced at the figurines. It was time to put the ghosts of his former relationship to rest and move on. "Goodbye, Meg," he whispered. Lifting Lauren in his arms, he walked away.
He didn't look back.
"Lauren?" Alessandro bolted upright in bed. The space beside him felt empty and cold and the sun had crept high enough to warn that daybreak had come and gone several hours ago. "No. Aw, hell. No, no, no. I called her Meg. I did. I just know I did.” He scrubbed his hands across his face. It had been when he'd first waken up from that damned dream, the one he'd been so certain would never haunt him again. "This can't be good.”
On the nightstand table beside him sat the flowerpot of crocuses he'd given Lauren. They were blooming. He stared at the flowers for a full minute before comprehension crashed down on him. She'd left as a farewell gift. Little purple cups, empty of hope, came the errant thought. He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the inescapable truth. No, dammit! Lauren hadn't left. He couldn't bear losing her, anymore than he could stand to lose—
Nicky!
He exploded from beneath the covers and ra
ced across the hallway to his son's room. The crib was empty. He swore, the Italian as passionate as it was ear-blistering.
"Shame on you, little brother. You should know better than to use that sort of language in front of an impressionable child."
Alessandro spun around to confront Luc. His relief at seeing Nick in his brother's arms was so profound, it took him a full minute to summon up a greeting. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Language," Luc repeated in disgust, "If you're going to reproduce, you'll have to learn to clean up your act so your little reproductions don't follow the bad example you set."
"Where's—"
"Gone." Luc inclined his head toward the living area. "She left a note and some gifts under the tree. There's one for you and one for this little guy. Merry Christmas, by the way."
Alessandro held out his arms to Nick. His son practically flung himself from Luc's grasp. "Let's see what your momma left us," he said grimly enough that Nick's little face puckered.
"Did I mention that kids are also sensitive to the mood of their parents?"
Alessandro brushed past his brother and headed for the living room. "So you've decided he's mine, have you?"
"He's the spitting image of you. I'd say congratulations were in order."
"Thanks. You still haven't explained what you're doing here."
"Didn't I mention? The whole family's coming to celebrate Christmas with you. It was Lauren's idea. She called and said you'd be needy, or words to that effect."
"I don't have time to entertain. I have a missing woman to track down."
"I suggest you open your presents first." When Alessandro opened his mouth to argue, Luc added, "It was Lauren's last request before she left."
Alessandro hesitated by the Christmas tree. She'd added to the figurines of the woman. There were now five in all. Beside them were two boxes, one large and one small. The large one was addressed to Nick. It had been neatly wrapped with handmade paper, a small grinning stick elf taking the place of a bow. Setting Nick on the floor, Alessandro opened it. It contained a quilt, one that must have taken months and months of work to complete, the predominate colors silver and baby blue.
"Look at this, Nick," he murmured. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful. Have you?"
Each square of the quilt contained an appliquéd scene. The scenes followed a time line, starting with an eerily familiar moment in a restaurant. His gaze shifted from one square to the next. There was the picnic in the woods. And in another a snowcapped purple crocus. Another must have been from the days of Meg's pregnancy. Still another, the birth of Nick. Square after square chronicled his courtship of Meg and the birth of their son.
Without a word, he reached for the second box and ripped it open, gently tipping the contents into the palm of his hand. Out tumbled the chain Dom had given him the day his mother had been buried, along with her wedding band. He closed his eyes, allowing the grief to wash over him.
"I have to go. I have to find her."
"She flew back to North Carolina."
"How do you know?" Alessandro turned his head to stare at his brother, the last vestiges of his control vanishing. "How the hell do you know?"
"Because I had Marco and Stefano drive her to the airport. She called sometime around midnight and begged us to come and get her.” He shrugged. "What were we supposed to do?"
"What were you...?" Alessandro lunged at his brother, wrapping a fist around Luc's shirt collar, his Italian coming fast and furious. "You should have told her no. You should have told her hell no. And now you'd better come up with a damned good explanation for why you didn't. Let me warn you, if it's not one I like, I’ll tear you apart."
"She had to attend a child welfare hearing. They were deciding whether or not to take Nick away from her. She offered her car in exchange for an airplane ticket. The crazy woman even signed over the pink slip."
Alessandro's teeth came together with a snap. "What are you talking about?"
"Her car. Did she tell you she calls it Babe?" Luc tilted his head to a contemplative angle. "I'm not sure Grace would approve of my owning a car named Babe.”
"Cretino! Not the car. What child welfare hearing? Why would anyone try to take Nick from her?"
Luc shrugged. “How should I know? I'm just repeating what she told me. If you want the rest of the story, you'll have to get it from her.”
"That might be a little difficult since she's not here to ask!" His fury had no affect on his brother whatsoever.
"As for the twins driving her to the airport," Luc continued with impressive calm, "I had them take her because I figured if anyone had a shot at charming her out of leaving, they would. They called an hour ago."
"And?"
"It would seem she never stopped crying the entire time they were with her. She soaked Marco's shirt on the drive to the airport and wept all over Stefano while they checked in.” He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Alessandro. It would seem the Salvatore charm leaves something to be desired. She got on the plane, sobbing every step of the way, but she did get on."
"She left?"
"Yeah. She left." Luc stared pointedly at Alessandro's hand. "You want to let go now?"
"No. I'd like to beat you to a bloody pulp.” He released his brother. "So what now? How do I find her?"
"She gave me a message for you."
His anger flared again, hotter than before. “You going to give it to me or is this one more thing I have to beat out of you?"
Luc held up his hands. "No need for violence. I don't think I can get her accent quite right, but she said something along the lines of, don't forget to be quiet and look. That everything is whispering, trying to tell you their special secrets. She made me repeat it three times before she was satisfied I had it straight. Maybe if it hadn't been so late, I wouldn't have had so much trouble.”
Alessandro froze. He knew those words. He'd heard them once upon a time in a cabin filled with "critters". "Is that all she said?"
"Not quite. She also said to remind you that home is where the heart is."
Be quiet and look. Home is where the heart is.
His gaze fell on the figurines beneath the Christmas tree and he studied them again. The first three hadn't changed. Meg still sat in peaceful repose in the first, dancing with explosive joy in the second and remained serenely pregnant in the third. He switched his attention to the additions.
Next came the birth of their child. It was another happy scene, the baby held aloft, Meg's hair floating long and free. But in the last her shorn head was tipped backward, her posture one of profound grief. Was this when she'd discovered she was dying? he wondered uneasily. He forced himself to study the last figure, suddenly noticing she held something clutched in her arms. At first he thought it was the baby. And then, after looking closer, he realized it was another woman.
For a long time he could only stare.
"Dio!” Comprehension crashed over him. He snatched up the quilt and went through it again panel by panel. Everything around here is whispering to you, trying to tell you their special secrets. He understood now. "The pink slip. Quick. Give me the pink slip."
"What? Oh, right. Sure." Luc thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled vehicle title. "Here."
It took Alessandro two seconds to find what he was looking for. "I'm leaving," he informed Luc. "I have to find her. Now."
"Because of a stupid pink slip?" Luc shook his head. "It's Christmas. The family's coming. You're needy, remember? You can't just leave."
"Watch me." He'd been promised a Christmas miracle and, by heaven, he’d gotten one. Too bad that miracle had walked out the door and climbed on an eastbound plane before he'd had a chance to explain it to her. Didn't she understand?
She was his miracle.
"Where are you going?" Luc grimaced. "As if I didn't know."
"I'm going to find my wife and bring her home." Alessandro snatched up his son and cradled him close. "Assuming I can find her."
> Luc's jaw dropped "Your wife?"
"I'll explain later.”
CHAPTER TEN
The days following Christmas...
She came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. They were back beneath the ancient oak, where it had all ended. Back where the beauty of spring came in new-leaf green and purple cups of hope. Back where the woman in his arms shed tears of farewell. "Meg? Honey?"
She still wouldn't look at him, but he could feel a suspicious moisture dampening his shirt. He couldn't count how many shirts she'd leaked over in the time they'd been together. She had to be the "cryingest" woman he'd ever met. Not that she'd ever used her tears as leverage. Hell, no. They were just a natural part of her personality.
"I'm sorry, Alessandro." Yup. Definitely tears. "I don't mean to make this any more difficult than it is. It's just... Your flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."
"Six a.m."
"Can't we have tonight together?"
It wouldn't be enough. Nothing would satisfy him until the day he put a ring— He swore beneath his breath. What an idiot he'd been. Why hadn't he thought of this before? "Let's get married." He couldn't say where the words had come from, but they felt right. Necessary. Inevitable. "Let's get married now."
Tension raced through her. "Married?"
"Well, what the hell do you think I've been talking about these past several days?"
"I thought after Rhonda—"
"You and Rhonda are nothing alike and never could be." He shook his head in disgust. "I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. Maybe if I had we could have put together a proper ceremony before I left for San Francisco. But it's too late now. The county offices are closed."
"I don't understand."
He reached around his neck and removed the chain. Opening the clasp he freed his mother's ring. "Give me your hand."