“Who’s Juliet?” his mother asked.
“Her swan,” Alex said, then turned back to Fiona. “And I suppose you’re planning on rescuing me.”
“I already have,” she said. “I cut away at your feeble excuse just like Cassie cut away at that plastic strip. I’ve offered you my total, unconditional, ‘forever’ love. You just didn’t realize you were free.”
His eyes said he wanted to believe her, but his voice was filled with doubt and caution. “Fiona—”
“Is something the matter with your salads?” the waiter asked. He sounded worried, as if his pay depended on them cleaning their plates, but Fiona was on a roll.
“They’re fine,” she assured him. “But do go away. I’m about to propose.”
“Fiona!”
“Oh, do accept, Alex,” his mother urged.
The waiter glanced at Alex’s face and must have seen the obstinacy that Fiona saw, and then at his mother and her open curiosity. Then he turned back to Fiona and she could tell he was taking in her wet, dirty clothes and disheveled hair. But his face softened and he turned, clapping his hands sharply. Within a moment, the violinists were there, filling the afternoon with sweet romantic music.
The waiter bowed slightly; then, with a wink at Fiona, he straightened. “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”
“No, thank you very much.” She turned to Alex. “Well? Will you marry me and take a chance? Or are you going to hide away forever?”
Alex just looked at her and she could see everything flashing through his eyes. His worries and fears. His love and adoration. His hunger. His need. His hope that wishes could come true. The violins grew louder.
“Oh, Fiona,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. His voice was loud as he competed with the violins. “This isn’t like you. What happened?”
“I kicked a home run in kickball,” she told him.
Alex started to laugh and all his worries, all the shadows fled from his eyes. He bent down to kiss her lips as the violinists grew even louder and his mother started to clap.
“So is this a ‘yes’?” Fiona asked.
“Yes,” he mumbled, his lips otherwise occupied.
“At last!” his mother cried.
Epilogue
“We’ve got a lot to figure out,” Alex said as he sat on the edge of Fiona’s bed to pull his shoes off. “I don’t think either of us want a two-hour commute.”
“Jeez, engaged four hours and thinking up problems,” Fiona teased. “You certainly are a worrier.”
“I figure I’ll move here. Either we move into a bigger place with office space for me or I’ll just rent some away from our home.”
“Are you sure?” Fiona asked. “Don’t you have clients in Chicago?”
He shrugged. “Lots of my work is done by phone and computer nowadays. I shouldn’t lose too many.”
“Yeah, but—” The phone rang and Fiona lay across the bed to reach it.
“Fiona? It’s Kate. Hi.”
“Kate?” Fiona felt all wobbly and sat up straight as if it would give her strength. “How are you? How are you feeling?”
“Great,” the girl said. “The doctor says it’s looking real good. He thinks I’m making new blood cells, but it’s a little too early to be sure.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Alex took her free hand in his, holding it tightly.
“Yeah. I might someday get outta this jail.” But her voice was laughing.
“I bet it’ll be soon.”
“Anyway, I was calling to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day,” she said.
Fiona’s heart stopped. “You what?” They wouldn’t have told her.
“Mom and Dad and me were talking this morning about how you kinda gave me a new life with the transplant and how that kinda made you like my mother in a way.”
“Your mother?” Fiona gasped.
Kate laughed and it was like spring bursting out all over. “You know. Mothers give life and that’s what you did. So if you want, you can be my honorary mom.”
Fiona’s eyes filled with tears, her world turned blurry. “I’d like that very much,” she said. “Thank you.”
Somehow she made small talk for a few more minutes, then got off to fall into Alex’s arms. What did she need Horace Waldo for, when she had everything the world could offer and then some?
She suddenly pulled away from Alex. “Oh, darn,” she said. “I forgot to tell Kate about my home run.”
“You mean there’s someone in the world who doesn’t know?” he teased, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Relax. You can tell her next time. Or the time after that.”
She smiled. That was true. There would be time for all that and more.
SILHOUETTE BOOKS
eISBN 978-14592-8053-3
ON MOTHER’S DAY
Copyright © 1996 by EAN Associates
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On Mother's Day (Great Expectations #1) Page 24