Unforgotten

by Kristen Heitzmann

  “Is that possible? For Rico not to overdo it?”

  Lance cocked his head. “Remotely.”

  She pressed her hands dry, then folded the towel over the rack and turned into his chest. He had her fenced in against the counter, and the look in his face hammered her. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Not remotely possible.” His gaze went to her mouth.

  “Lance.” If he kissed her, she’d deck him. Then she’d deck herself for wanting it.

  His throat worked. His chest rose and fell. But he backed away, and she moved out.

  “I was going to ask if you thought you might stay until Maria had her baby and found someplace else.”

  “Then you’re taking her?”

  Rese blew an exasperated breath. “It’s kind of hard to say no.”

  “I think you’ve got it down.”

  She ignored that. “Especially after Michelle’s labor-of-love speech.”

  “You’d do it anyway.” His gaze warmed her. “It’s how you are.”

  Rese turned away, hurt replacing the rage. “There’s a word for it— doormat.”

  “You’re no doormat.”

  His hand closed over her elbow, and she felt the shock of it all the way up her arm. He drew her in.

  “Lance, I swear if you kiss me, you’ll regret it.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  She huffed. “I don’t believe you! How can you think I’d want—” Her voice played the traitor. She clenched her fists. “Would you even be here if Antonia hadn’t forced it?”

  “Rese …”

  “Answer me.”

  “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  She snorted. “Since it was so good?”

  Baxter looked up from the floor, sensing the combative strain and feeling for them. Lance slid his hands around her waist. “Rese, listen …”

  No way would she let him talk. “Let go.”

  His throat worked. “Okay.” But it was three tense seconds before he did.

  Rese drew herself up. “You can consider yourself hired. Antonia stays for free.” She might not be schizophrenic, but she’d just proven herself certifiable.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Maria was about Star’s height and so big in the belly she looked ready to burst. She stood in sweat pants and a ragged sweater stretched to lacy thinness, legs spread to bear the weight. Lance didn’t say it out loud, but he doubted it would be any month before she went. He’d seen enough pregnant teens to recognize the imminence.

  “Well, this is Maria.” Michelle nudged her forward in the driveway.

  He and Rese had gone out alone in the crisp, gray morning to meet them, since Elaine would take some explaining and Star didn’t want to overwhelm the girl.

  Jacketless, Rese wrapped herself in her arms. “Hi, Maria. I’m Rese and this is Lance.” Clear and simple and more than she’d managed with previous guests. She no longer needed his glib intervention.

  Maria didn’t look up and barely moved her lips to pronounce a strongly accented, “Hello.”

  Rese rubbed her arms. “I’ve made up a room for you. I hope you don’t mind stairs.”

  Maria’s face washed with confusion, and without thinking, Lance translated. Rese turned in surprise.

  “Less English than we thought.” He couldn’t help smiling. His prayer last night had bordered on desperate, and now they were. Switching back to Spanish, he asked Maria if she’d like to go inside.

  She nodded.

  Michelle spread her hands. “Well, I’ll leave you all to get acquainted.”

  Rese looked a little panicked. “Do you think she’ll want you here for a while? Until she gets comfortable?”

  “She doesn’t know me much better than you. And you’ve got a translator.” Michelle smiled his way.

  He shrugged. “Had to know what Rico was calling me.” He turned to Maria and said gently, “Vamanos.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Rese muttered under her breath as she followed them into the house.

  He’d awakened close to despair that first morning, realizing Rese had no need for him. He’d been through fire, but all she could see was the burned-out husk. And she’d moved on. This language thing was small, but significant? The Lord giving him one stepping stone in the torrent? He couldn’t ask for more. He knew better. Maria’s eyes widened when they brought her into the Jasmine Garden, all done in white with a slender-framed canopy bed twined with gauzy veils. She looked utterly confused and a little terrified.

  “Tell her this is her room.” Rese spoke softly, as though she might overhear.

  Lance told Maria what Rese said, but she still didn’t understand, so he explained she could sleep there and use the desk and the adjoining bathroom. He would have mentioned the closet, but she hadn’t brought any other clothes.

  When he had finished, she dropped her gaze to the floor and asked in Spanish, “What do I have to do?”

  Lord. He drew a slow breath and said in words she knew and understood, “Have a strong, healthy baby.”

  She still wouldn’t look up, but she nodded.

  “Tienes hambre?” It didn’t look like she could fit food in, but he knew from Lucy and Monica that didn’t stop their being hungry.

  She shook her head.

  He told her the kitchen was downstairs, that she would eat with them, but she could also help herself to whatever she wanted. “Comprendes?”

  “Si,” she murmured almost too softly to hear.

  He caught Rese’s elbow. “Let’s give her a while to settle in.”

  Rese followed him out, leaving the door open behind her. Maria hadn’t moved, but they didn’t want her to feel locked up. They went downstairs.

  Rese sank into a chair in the sitting room. “What did you tell her?”

  He repeated it.

  “What did she say?”

  “She wanted to know what she had to do.” He guessed she meant what would be done to her. This was one hurting world. “I told her to have a healthy baby.”

  Rese nodded, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She’d closed him out again.

  “I guess it’s good you’re here.”

  A more lukewarm commendation he’d never heard. But what did he expect? He was once again the hired help.

  She huffed. “I know enough Spanish to tell a worker to do it over, to make it straight, to please clean up the mess. Don’t think that’ll help much.”

  “Maybe she understands more than we know.”

  Rese shook her head. “She must be terrified.”

  “Yeah.” And Rese knew all about fear and situations one couldn’t control. It was no accident the girl had come to them.

  Rese pushed herself up from the chair. “I have to get to work.”

  He hated those words. Not that she was working at something she loved and was good at, or even that she did it with Brad, but that it gave such finality to the death of their dream. He tried not to show it. Failed.

  She got her keys and went out without saying good-bye. He’d pushed her limits last night. She wouldn’t want to leave him an opening. He joined Nonna, Star, and Elaine in the kitchen and explained their guest’s language barrier. But even though none of them spoke Spanish, it hardly compared to his obstructed communication with Rese.

  ————

  “Is it something about me?” Rese shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “Do I look stupid or gullible?”

  “Hardly.” Brad laughed.

  “One word of English, Brad. And she had to work for that.”

  Crouched atop the roof, he braced himself against a gust of wind. “Well, your guy’s got the Spanish thing covered. I’d be more concerned about the liability of her condition.”

  “Liability?”

  He shrugged. “She could be a con job, for all you know.”

  “She’s sixteen, Brad.”

  “Says who?” He tossed a broken tile into the box of shards.

  She would say she t
rusted Michelle, but Michelle had admitted that she hardly knew Maria herself. What if it was a scam to plant her there, then blame them for … what? Rese frowned. “You have a suspicious mind.”

  “So sue me.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I came up here to feel better, not worse.”

  “I just think you should be careful letting all kinds of people move in with you. What would Vernon think?”

  Rese tried to imagine Dad at the villa. Not only could she not picture it, but she had a hard time feeling bad about that. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what he’d think. I miss him. I’m sad he’s gone.” She felt the pang even now. “But it’s my life; it’s what I think that matters.” It shocked her that she believed it.

  Brad hunkered down onto his heels and studied her. His hands were stained with tar paper, and one of the knees of his jeans was ragged. His sweatshirt was thick, but even so he must be feeling the chill that had kicked up. “Well, honey, you’re all grown up, then.”

  She scowled. “I didn’t come up to hear that either.”

  His phone beeped, and he spoke to one of the guys inside. Rese shivered in the brisk wind and fastened the top snap of her flannellined jacket. Brad slid the phone back into his pocket and rested on his haunches.

  Rese frowned. “Are you afraid?”

  He cocked his head. “Of what?”

  “Giving your marriage another chance.”

  He braced his forearms on his knees. “I’m regretting telling you that.”

  “Well?”

  He looked away, then back. “Yeah. I’m afraid if we tried again, and it didn’t work …”

  “Does it scare you to think it might, and you’d never know?” She closed her arms around herself and shivered.

  His nose had reddened in the wind. He sniffed. “Yeah. It does.”

  And what had she gained by that line of questioning? Why did she think there was a lesson in Brad’s life for her? He was satisfied with his choices. Wasn’t he?

  She went back down and ended up staying after dark because she had to finish the cabinets so the electrician could wire the recessed lighting, and she wasn’t satisfied with the finish on a portion of the banister, and … When she could find nothing else that couldn’t wait, she drove home with something close to dread.

  She’d had it mostly under control with Mom and Star. Even with Mom’s special needs, it was the least complicated her life had been in a while. Then Lance sent her reeling, and now Maria. What had she been thinking? Maybe Brad was right. Maybe she should think more like Dad. He would not be in this predicament. But then … did she really miss those solitary evenings in front of the TV?

  A gust of sleet ticked across the windshield like tossed rice. Her wipers thumped back and forth. Brad had finished up the roof just in time. She wouldn’t want him up there with ice on the tiles, and they both hated delays—except when it kept her from facing a situation she’d rather walk naked through the sleet than face.

  She parked the truck, and though the cab had been toasty, the blast that struck when she opened the door sent a chill to her bones. She wrestled the door shut, gripped her jacket around her throat, and ran for the kitchen door. It opened before she could reach out, and Lance pulled her inside. Removing her wrist from his grip, she brushed the freezing rain from her hair and sleeves.

  “Take it off and hang it over the chair.” Lance foamed a mug of milk he had obviously held ready and, when she’d shed her jacket, pressed a vanilla steamer into her hands, covering them with his own.

  Not exactly employee behavior. She’d think of him as a houseboy. Or a slave. She almost giggled into her milk, and that terrified her worse than anything. Was she running a fever?

  “I held your dinner.”

  “I ate.”

  His disappointment was tangible.

  She didn’t think it was spite that had made her grab a drive-thru burger. More like self-preservation. His food was already working on her, and she needed some defense. So what excuse did she have for slurping down the steamer until it coated her upper lip with warm, fragrant comfort?

  Instinct. What cold, tired animal wouldn’t do as much? But Lance was making more of it than that. Any minute he’d reach out and pull her close, and she was not in a place to resist because resisting Lance had been skipped in her skill set.

  She brought up her chin. “How’s Maria?”

  “I’m not sure.” He took the empty mug and set it on the counter. “She hasn’t eaten, hasn’t left her room. Star and I checked on her a couple times, but she doesn’t say much.”

  Rese snorted.

  “I think she might be further along than Michelle guessed.”

  “You mean any day?”

  He shrugged. “I’m no expert, but I’ve seen my sisters and cousins and quite a few girls in the neighborhood. They get that unfocused look, and she’s spread out like the baby’s dropped.”

  Rese stared. “Dropped?”

  “Into the birth canal.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I thought you weren’t an expert.”

  “It’s life, Rese. I’ve lived it close.”

  That sent shock waves that made her look away. Don’t think about his life. About the people who’d taken her into their home, into their hearts, real people, real family, even those unrelated by blood. She’d lived his life up close as well. “Should I check on her?”

  “If you want. She’s probably in bed.”

  Rese nodded. What could she say, anyway? She didn’t speak her language, didn’t speak anyone’s.

  He took her hands and warmed them against his mouth. “Anything else I can get you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Anything at all I can do?” His voice rasped.

  “Lance …” This was not going to work if he insisted on getting up close and personal every time—

  “I love you.”

  Tears stung. “You said that before.”

  His brow pinched. “I meant it.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  His breath was hot on her fingers. “I know I hurt you.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “And I’m sorry, Rese, but I did what I had to.”

  “Had to?” She glared.

  “I didn’t know what God expected. But you know I had to do it.”

  “But whatever it was, I was expendable. Our plans were expendable.”

  “I’m sorry.” He pulled her in and took her face between his hands. “I didn’t plan it this way. If it was up to me a whole lot of things would be different. And maybe I still don’t get it right most of the time, but I’m trying.”

  The kitchen light glinted off the diamond in his ear. Where was the disdain she’d managed at that first glimpse? How had he swept aside her defense and common sense? She knew better.

  His eyes darkened. “I’m trying to make it right.”

  Only Lance would think he could.

  “However long it takes, whatever you require.” He drew a ragged breath. “If you can’t believe it now, give me time. Let me show you. Let me prove … faithful.”

  The thought of his faithfulness swelled her throat. Wasn’t that his very core? Hadn’t faithfulness driven him to serve Antonia and, more encompassing, God? Was he offering her anything close to the fire that had hollowed him? The thought ensnared and terrified.

  His hands encased her face with a fiery embrace. “I love you. And I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her heart kicked her ribs. “It won’t change anything.”

  “Maybe not.” But he found her mouth and made her a liar. And a fool because everything in her wanted to respond, and then she’d be kissing him back, and he’d think he’d won, and he’d be right.

  She wasn’t ready to concede. She’d felt the agony that matched the ecstasy. But his kiss deepened, and his arms enclosed her, and she knew where she belonged if she was willing to take the risk.

  But with a strength Vernon B
arrett would have applauded, she pulled back and said, “Thanks for the steamer.”

  He swallowed. “You’re welcome.”

  She felt his gaze on her back all the way through the door. Heart aching, she changed out of her clothes, showered, and pulled on her flannel pants and soft forest green top. With a Herculean effort, she turned her thoughts to the girl upstairs with her belly so distended and the baby dropped into the birth canal. Perspective.

  Maybe tomorrow she’d start working on the cradle. She sighed. How had it gotten to this? Oh yeah. Unconditional love. Wasn’t that, after all, what Lance wanted?

  ————

  She woke with a jolt when Star nearly shook her teeth loose. “Rese, she had the baby!”

  She shook the fog away. “Having? She’s having it?”

  “Had. And she’s screaming her head off.”

  She bolted up. Didn’t the screaming come before the baby? “Go get Lance. I mean Antonia. Get them both. And call the midwife.” Though what good it would do now, she didn’t know.

  As Star took off for the carriage house, Rese mounted the stairs at a sprint, then stopped dead at the top. The smell of blood gagged and paralyzed her. Maria was screaming, but the baby made no sound. No way it was sleeping. It must be dead.

  Lord. She sank against the wall, shudders dissolving her legs. Her head spun. Star rushed up from behind, then Lance with Antonia in his arms. He must have scooped her out of bed in her nightgown, but she was calmly telling him they’d need string and scissors and warm towels. They disappeared into the room.

  And then Rese heard the baby cry.

  The fog cleared in her head. She staggered to the doorway. Blood streaked Maria’s thighs. The baby lay all clutched up and wailing on the soggy sheet, its tiny limbs shaking and a gaping crevice between its nose and mouth.

  Braced by the bedpost, Antonia took hold of Maria’s jaw and bore into her with a look that silenced the screams. In T-shirt and drawstring pants, with sleep-tousled hair and shadowed jaw, Lance dropped to the bed and lifted the baby, still dangling a tubelike cord and bloody mass. He curled it into his chest. His features twisted. The tendons in his neck stood out as he covered the baby’s face with his hand, tipped back his head, and groaned, “Lord Jesus.”