“Angie…”
She shifted behind her menu, but she didn’t put it down. “Hmm?”
“Look at me.” Why was that so hard to do? She made herself lower the menu a little and peered cautiously over the top of it. His gaze locked on hers. “Put the menu down.”
“Fine.” She set it back on top of the other one, gulped again, and admitted, “I thought you were going to bust him a good one.”
“But I didn’t.”
“What awful thing did you say to him?”
“‘Get lost.’”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“You really scared him.”
“I intended to scare him.”
“You, um, scared me, too. You just…” She didn’t know how to go on. And there seemed no real point in going on. It all led back to the strange changes in him lately, the changes he flatly denied every time she dared to try to talk about them.
He didn’t encourage her to continue, to finish what she’d started to say. He only muttered, “I’m sorry I scared you.”
And she said, “It’s okay,” though it wasn’t. Not really. Lately, things between them seemed less and less okay. She couldn’t figure out why. And he wasn’t even willing to talk about it. “We should order,” she said.
He caught Nadine’s eye and signaled her over. They ordered. The food came. They ate.
Later, they went home and made beautiful love together.
And late in the night, Angie lay wide awake beside her sleeping husband and tried to tell herself that things between them weren’t slowly going terribly wrong.
She really needed to talk to somebody about all this. Since Brett wouldn’t talk to her, she’d have to find someone else she could trust to confide in….
Chapter Eight
Glory set down her sandwich and leaned close. “Fear of intimacy,” she said in an ominous tone. When Angie frowned at her, Glory elaborated, keeping her voice low so no one else would hear. “I read this long article about men who are afraid to get close. In American Woman magazine.”
“You think Brett’s afraid of…getting close to me?”
“Oh, yeah.” Glory pulled a loose piece of bacon out of the side of her sandwich and popped it into her mouth. She chewed, thoughtfully. “Deep down, they’re all—all of Chastity’s sons—afraid of trusting, of letting a woman get too close. So far, only Buck’s gotten over it. When I think of how openly and honestly he loves B.J., it can almost give me hope for Bowie and me.” She dredged a French fry in ketchup and thoughtfully nibbled the end of it. “But then I think, uh-uh. Bowie’s too scared to get down and get equal with me. He always thinks he has to boss me around. That’s his way of keeping me at arm’s distance, emotionally speaking. And Brett and Brand, well, they have different ways of showing it, but they never really let anybody get close, either.”
Angie thought of her first days on the job at the clinic, of the initial weeks of their marriage, of how she and Brett would sit and talk for hours on end back then, how open and free it had all seemed.
“But Glory, Brett did let me get close. At first. It’s only lately that he’s gotten so distant, that I’ve started to feel like I don’t really even know him.”
Glory pointed with her red-tipped French fry. “See? That’s the fear kicking in.”
“But…why? What does he have to be afraid of?”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m a shrink or anything. Maybe he just doesn’t know…how to be a husband.”
Angie blew out an impatient breath. “But I told you. He was doing great. At the beginning…”
“Like I said, then the fear kicked in.”
“But—”
Glory put up a hand. “Think about this. It’s not like any of those four boys ever had any example of the way it’s supposed to work between a man and a woman. I mean, they hardly knew their father. Bowie never knew Blake at all. He was long gone before Bowie was even born. And when the other three were really little, the way Chastity tells it, Blake would show up for a week or two, and then vanish for months, a year, even longer. For the boys, it was the same as not even having a dad. Their dad was a stranger to them, a scary guy they didn’t know, a dangerous guy who would show up now and then and sleep in their mother’s room.
“And, Chastity…well, I love her. We all love her. But she was a different person then. She’s changed a lot—for the better—over the years. Mostly, when the boys were growing up, she was an overworked single mom, running her business and putting all her spare energy into dreaming about Blake coming back to her. She loved the boys, but she wasn’t giving them the firm hand and the attention they needed.” Glory chomped another piece of bacon. “And I’m not talking out of turn. Chastity’s the first one to admit she could have done a better job as a mom.”
“So…their father was never there. And Chastity didn’t pay enough attention to them. And that makes them afraid to get close to a woman they care about?”
“Yeah. It’s like…they never learned how—not to mention they’re afraid of loving someone so much, they can’t live without her. They’re afraid they could end up like Chastity, left behind with a broken heart.”
Angie slumped back against the tufted red vinyl of the booth. “I don’t know. I don’t think I buy it…” She took the sprig of parsley from the side of her plate and twirled it slowly by the stem.
Glory picked up her sandwich again. “Well. It’s just a thought, you know—and stop playing with your food. Eat.”
“Okay, okay.” Angie tossed the parsley back on the plate and ate a French fry. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s what Aunt Stella said.” When Glory sent her a questioning glance, she explained, “You know the old saying about marrying in haste—and repenting at leisure?”
Glory snorted. “Aunt Stella said that after you eloped with Brett?”
“Well, sort of. She said a marriage in haste isn’t a marriage at all.”
Glory groaned. “Come on. You know you’re in trouble if you start taking Aunt Stella too seriously. She should have gotten married herself, had some kids…committed a few sins of her own, for cryin’ out loud, given herself something to atone for. Or maybe even become a nun. Aunt Stella might have actually been happy as a nun. Instead, she stayed single and moved in with Mamma and she’s got way too much free time on her hands—free time that she uses to tell everyone else how to live.”
“But, Brett and me, we did rush into it….”
“Oh, come on. You said it yourself. You’ve known the guy all your life. It’s not like he’s some stranger—and you can have your marriage blessed by Father Delahunty, if that’s what’s really bothering you.”
“I know. We will. But first, I’d like to figure out what’s bothering my husband.”
“Fear of intimacy,” Glory said, looking much too smug for a woman who was in love with Bowie Bravo. “Think about it.”
Charlene came over and refilled Angie’s iced tea.
When she left, Glory spoke out of the side of her mouth. “Wait’ll you hear what I heard…juicy. Very juicy.”
Angie pulled her shoulders back. “Gossip, you mean?”
“That’s right.”
“After what you told me last week, about everyone betting on how soon Bowie’s going to blow it, I’ve been thinking I don’t approve of gossip all that much.”
Glory nibbled yet another French fry. Slowly. “Well. Okay, then. If you don’t wanna know…”
Angie held on to her nobility for maybe three seconds. “Tell me.”
“You’re sure? I mean, if you don’t approve…”
“Oh, cut it out and tell me.”
Glory giggled, bent close again and whispered, “It’s Sissy. She’s split town. Evidently she left some time in the middle of the night last night. Charlene told me that when she got up this morning, Sissy was gone and so were all her things.”
Angie sent a glance Charlene’s way. Sissy’s big sister was over behind the c
ounter, refilling coffee cups, her wide mouth a grim line. “I thought Charlene seemed a little downhearted today.”
“And Sissy taking off out of nowhere isn’t all of it.”
“Oh, God. What else?”
“Last night, somebody let themselves into Brand’s office, tore the place up, and took off with the petty cash drawer.”
“And they think it was Sissy?”
“It wasn’t a break-in. Someone let themselves in. Sissy had a key, so it kinda looks she did it.”
“Poor Charlene,” said Angie.
“Poor Brand,” said Glory. “All he did was try to help out.”
Angie realized she’d been so busy talking about her own problems, she hadn’t even asked Glory how things were going in her life. “How’s my new nephew?”
Glory’s eyes got softer and the Dellazola dimples appeared in her cheeks. “He’s a good baby, the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Things still working out for you over at Chastity’s?”
“Mm-hmm. We take turns looking after Johnny. It works out real well. She’s a terrific Grandma, she really is. And also a great person to have as a friend.”
Angie had to ask. “And…you and Bowie?”
Glory shook her head. “There is no me and Bowie, not anymore. I doubt there ever will be again.”
“But he’s doing better, right?”
“So I hear. And one thing I’ll say for him lately, since Chastity had that long talk with him, he’s been sober when he shows up at the B and B. He’s still got that bad attitude, but he doesn’t order me to marry him. He asks in a sulky kind of way. I tell him no. And then he leaves.”
Angie reached across the table and stroked a hand down her sister’s silky hair. “I’m sorry, Glory….”
Glory shrugged. “I’m telling you. Fear of intimacy. The Bravo boys have got it bad.”
That evening, Brett had two emergency calls back-to-back. For the second one, he had to get the patient to the hospital in Grass Valley, run some tests and wait for the results before he could set a course of treatment.
Angie fixed dinner for two and put Brett’s in the fridge for him to heat up later. She sat down and ate alone and then cleaned up the kitchen a little.
She was just settling in front of the TV in the great room, thinking she’d watch a movie or something, take her mind off her vague, persistent worries that things weren’t right with Brett, when the phone rang.
Angie answered and her aunt Stella said, “It’s us.” Meaning Angie’s mom was on the line, too. They liked to get on the phone together, her mom and her aunt, one on the kitchen extension and one in the living room. “Are we interrupting your dinner?”
“No. It’s fine. I already ate.”
“How’s Dr. Brett?” asked her mother.
Angie explained that he was with a patient, in Grass Valley.
“A wonderful man,” declared Aunt Stella. “Kind, thoughtful and good—and you haven’t been to see Father Delahunty.”
Angie had known that was coming. “No. But I will.”
Stella chided, “We haven’t seen you at mass recently….”
Since she hadn’t married in the Church, Angie wasn’t supposed to take communion, and if she didn’t take communion she knew her aunt would just have to give her a hard time about it. Why even go?
“Don’t start in on me. Please?”
The line was quiet for ten full seconds. Angie could just see her mother and her aunt, biting their tongues in unison on their separate extensions.
Finally, in a tone of utmost dignity, Stella announced, “Old Tony turns ninety next week.” Great-Grandpa Tony had been born on the Fourth of July, a fact that pleased him no end, as he considered himself a true patriot. The family always had a big party on the Fourth, to celebrate both the holiday and Old Tony’s birthday.
Angie asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“Well,” said her mother, her voice dripping with significance. “We thought a barbecue. Maybe down by the river…”
Angie took the hint. “We could have it here.” With the river and that nice beach just down the trail across the road, the house she shared with Brett was a perfect location for a summer barbecue.
She found herself wondering, Would Brett mind?
It made her kind of sad that the thought even occurred to her. In the first days of her marriage, the question would never have come up. She would have known without even having to think about it that Brett would be pleased to host a big family party.
Nowadays, though…
She didn’t have a clue how Brett felt about things.
“Oh, Angie…” gushed her mother. “I knew you’d say that. We wanted it to be extra special for Old Tony’s ninetieth. We are going to have ourselves a beautiful party.”
“The best ever,” declared Aunt Stella.
And then they were off and running, talking over each other, making their plans, giving each other orders, discussing how they’d set up the picnic tables on the deck, who should bring what and how early in the day they’d need to take over Angie’s kitchen. Angie listened and made agreeable noises and hoped that Brett wouldn’t mind.
Brett didn’t mind. Not in the least. When she asked him that night, he told her he thought it was a great idea.
Which she should have known, really.
But she’d doubted, because they just didn’t communicate the way they used to.
“Maybe we could invite Ma, too,” he suggested. They were lying in bed by then with the lights out. “I mean, if you think that would be okay with your family…”
“Are you kidding? The more the merrier as far as they’re concerned. And how about Brand? Maybe he’d like to come.”
“I’ll ask him.”
“Good.” She thought of Bowie. They really should ask him, too, but she hesitated to mention him. You never knew what kind of stunt Bowie might pull.
Brett’s teeth flashed white through the darkness as he grinned at her. She grinned back and at that moment, it was just like it used to be, easy and clear between them, both of them on the same wavelength.
“Bowie,” they said in unison.
She asked, “What do you think?”
“Well, he has been behaving himself lately. He’s still got his job at the St. Thomas. And he hasn’t been falling-down drunk in almost a month.”
Really, she thought, it wouldn’t be right to leave Bowie out. “I’m willing to take a chance on him if you are. But I do worry a little about him giving Glory a bad time….”
“Ask her what she thinks. If she says she can’t deal with the idea of him being there, we won’t invite him.”
“I’ll call her.” She dared to reach out, to touch his beard-stubbled cheek, to trace the shape of his ear.
He whispered her name. She lifted her lips to him.
The kiss they shared was achingly sweet—but too soon, he was pulling away. “Good night…” He rolled so he was facing the far wall and tugged the covers up over his shoulders.
“Good night,” she said softly to his back, wanting to reach out for him again, to slip her arms around him, nuzzle his neck, rub her body against him until he turned to her once more.
But she restrained herself. The guy had just put in a sixteen-hour day. It was perfectly understandable that he was too tired to take her in his arms and love her doubts away.
Brand and Chastity both said they’d love to come to Old Tony’s Fourth of July birthday celebration. Angie called Glory and asked what she’d think of them inviting Bowie.
“Invite him,” Glory said without hesitation. “He’s your brother-in-law—and he has been staying sober lately. He should be okay.”
So it was decided. Bowie got an invitation, too.
At eight in the morning on the Fourth, Stella and Rose arrived at Angie’s door.
“Will you look at this beautiful day?” Rose announced as Angie let them inside. The two commandeered the kitchen while Brett and Little Tony trekked in the e
ndless bags of groceries, the bowls and platters and serving utensils.
Trista, Clarice and Dani appeared at eleven, bearing more food and more equipment, including several coolers and a couple of barbecue grills. Angie’s dad, who always ran the grills, got busy setting up his cooking area. Brett was everywhere, finding anything the women needed, giving Little Tony a hand with the grills.
They all took a break at noon and went over to Main Street to watch the annual Fourth of July town parade, returning by one to continue the preparations.
At one-thirty Anthony and Gracie drove up with Baby Tony and a truckload of crushed ice, beer and wine, sodas and fruit drinks. They set to work filling the coolers. Trista’s and Clarice’s husbands, Donny and Mike, who rarely attended family events, even showed up at a quarter of two and pitched in moving picnic tables around.
By two-thirty in the afternoon, when the guest of honor appeared to cries of “Happy Birthday, Tony,” the party was in full swing. The family sprawled through the house, spilled out to the deck and the patio below it.
All the kids wanted to go swimming. Matthew, ten, and the older of Clarice’s two boys, volunteered to take them all down to the beach.
“I’ll watch ’em, Mom. I’ll watch ’em real good.”
Clarice laughed. “Oh, I’ll just bet you will.”
“Aw, Mom. Come on. We wanna go swimmin’…”
So Clarice and Trista both put on their swimsuits and herded the kids down to the beach.
By then, Angie’s dad had the grills going on the patio. Delicious aromas of grilling sausage and chicken filled the air.
Lucia and Petra, Angie’s two still-single sisters who attended Cal State in Sacramento, had taken time off from their summer jobs to come to the party. They sat up on the deck with Brand and competed for his attention, laughing and sharing stories of their grown-up city-girl lives.
Chastity came with Alyosha. He joined the knot of men hanging around the grills, while Brett’s mom headed for the kitchen to see what she could do to help. As it happened, Rose was just then opening a bottle of Old Tony’s blackberry wine. Chastity said she’d love a glass. She had more than one. So did Rose and Stella. The three women whispered and laughed together, having such a fine time they forgot to watch the roast-pepper-and-Mozzarella crostini. The kitchen filled with smoke and the smoke alarm went off.
Married in Haste Page 10