by A. C. James
Lacy opened the driver’s side door, wincing a little as she slid behind the wheel. Clara couldn’t help but notice the fleeting expression as her sister started the engine.
“Are you okay?”
Lacy gave her sister a half-smile that Clara could see right through. “Yeah, just a slight headache.”
Clara knew when to push her sister and when to let it go. She had this feeling in her gut that something was up with her, but if Lacy wasn’t ready to talk then forcing the issue would only piss her off and make her clam up.
So Clara changed the subject.
“So what’s the juicy family gossip about?”
Lacy grinned. “You’re never going to believe it. It’s about Grandpa.”
“Oh?”
Clara could only imagine, knowing Wallace Parker. Their grandfather on Dad’s side of the family could be quite the character. Gram died last year during Book Expo America and Mark’s assistant gave him the message when her sister called to tell her, but he’d sworn he didn’t get it until the last day of the conference. She had her doubts. Clara had just switched cell providers and hadn’t given the new number out when everything had happened. It was so unexpected. Maybe that was the beginning of the end for them. She’d missed the funeral and the only time Mark shared a meal with her that wasn’t based on business was to apologize. He took her to Del Posta for dinner. Granted it was good, but not enough that she’d soon forget what he’d done. And maybe she should have walked away right then and there, but Clara loved her job. It was the next best thing to doing what she’d always dreamed of…writing.
“Yeah, well I think he’s finally starting to get over Gram.”
Clara raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s been kicked out of two nursing homes.”
“I didn’t know you could get kicked out of a nursing home.”
Lacy grinned again. “Neither did we.”
“Well, what did he do?”
“You remember Sam, right?”
“His drinking buddy from down the VFW?”
“Yup. Well, it turns out that Grandpa convinced Sam to bring him a mini-fridge for his room.”
“Okay, I don’t see the problem here. He got in trouble for having a mini-fridge?”
“No, the trouble all started when Sam brought him beer to go in it.”
Her mouth dropped open. Clara couldn’t help it.
Lacy laughed at her expression. “Yeah, the old bugger decided to start inviting the nursing staff back to his room for impromptu parties, which was all well and good until he…”
Lacy started giggling.
“Until he what, Lace?”
“Well, he got a little handsy with some of the nurses.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“That’s what we said.”
“How did Dad take it?” Clara asked.
“It was Dad who straightened him out. After the second nursing home, he sat Grandpa down and gave him a heart to heart, and he thinks it did the trick.”
The look on Lacy’s face made her think there was more to the story.
“What did Dad do? Threaten to take away his mini-fridge?”
“Nope. Dad grabbed his walker and marched Grandpa down to the common room. It’s just across from the nurse’s station. He pointed out that it’s the perfect view—better to just look, and it gets him into a lot less trouble.”
“You’re kidding me.”
Lacy laughed. “You should know better than that.”
Clara did know. She knew all too well how zany her family could be.
“But there’s more,” Lacy said, her eyes still on the road.
“Oh, boy.”
“I guess Grandpa found that poem you gave to Gram. It was in her things.”
It’d been ages since Clara had written anything, but she hadn’t written poetry since college.
“Which one?”
“I think you called it To Love a Woman, but it was a metaphor for following your heart. I suppose it could be taken in more ways than one, considering what Grandpa is using it for.”
“What do you mean?”
“He called Mom last week and wanted to know if she had any more of your old poetry lying around. And when Mom asked him why, he said it was because the nurses all wanted a copy after he showed it to one of them,” Lacy said with a face-splitting smile.
“I can’t believe he did that, but I suppose it’s nice to know that the nurses like my poetry.”
Lacy laughed. “Your poetry? I don’t think you understand. He didn’t mention that you wrote it. He passed it off as his own.”
“He’s been using my poetry to pick up women?”
“Yup. That’s about the size of it.”
Clara shook her head. She hardly knew what to make of it. “And how’s Mom doing anyway?”
That killed the lighthearted look in Lacy’s eyes. “Still on her same old kick.”
“Grandbabies?”
Lacy let out a long sigh. “Yeah, and I haven’t had the heart to tell her that it’s never going to happen.”
“Oh, no. Why?”
You could have heard a pin drop in the sudden silence that filled the car.
“Greg and I are separated.”
Clara reached over and gave her sister’s shoulder a squeeze. “Why, Lacy?”
“I really couldn’t tell you. I don’t think it’s any one thing. It’s a million things that’ve built up over the last ten years until we realized we’d be better off parting as friends than fighting all the time and staying together.”
It was hard to imagine her sister and Greg not being together. The two of them were high school sweethearts. They’d stayed together when she’d run away from Overlook (and everyone in it) just as fast as she could.
“Lacy, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just don’t tell Mom.”
“What do you mean ‘don’t tell Mom’? You haven’t told her?”
“I haven’t told anyone, but I’m no good at lying to you. I’ll tell them, but I wanted to wait until after Christmas. I didn’t want to spoil it for anyone.”
Chapter 3
Love Me Like You Want To
(Not Lie Like You Have To)
Tuesday, December 23rd
Clara had always hated bubble gum pink. Waking up to find herself surrounded by the noxious color of her childhood bedroom only served to dredge up memories that made her squeeze her eyes shut and mentally repeat the mantra: This is not your life.
God, no. I left here to do more than knit my freaking brains out.
Overlook, with its annual quilt festival (she was lying under one of those multicolored masterpieces at that very moment) made her want to vomit. And yet there was something almost comforting and familiar about it—maybe the smell. Clearly her mother still used the same laundry detergent, which always reminded her of springtime.
She rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom down the hall. Clara brushed her teeth before heading downstairs. Her mom was sitting at the kitchen table flipping through a sale paper and jotting things down. Clara could still smell the bacon, but judging by the empty pan on the stove, she’d missed breakfast and would be on her own to scrounge up something.
“Hey, Mom. Where’s Dad?”
“He went to get a tree.”
“Did Lacy go with him?”
Mom looked up from the paper. “No, she didn’t.”
The way her mom said no made Clara wonder if there were more to her curt response.
“But decorating is her bag. Christmas is Lacy’s favorite.”
Leanna Parker sighed heavily. “Yes, it is, but your sister has something going on with her.”
Their mother always had an uncanny way of knowing when there was something up with one of her daughters. Clara and Lacy could always count on her insights to make their lives as teenagers rather inconvenient (to say the least) and unfortunately that hadn’t changed now that they were all grown up. Although, Clara ha
d to admit that she was glad Mom had a sixth sense for drama when it came to meddling in their lives. It meant they never got into any real trouble, and on the rare occasion that they’d come pretty darn close, they’d always had someone to bail them out. And it was usually Dad.
“You got that impression too. I thought maybe it was just me.”
Leanna put the paper down. “Why? Did she say something?”
Crap. Now I’ve done it.
It would be a complete act of betrayal to spill that Lacy and her husband had called it quits.
Clara opened the fridge. “Not really.”
“Clara.”
It took tremendous effort not to slump her shoulders when she heard her mother’s tone. How the hell did she manage to do that anyway? So instead Clara reached for the carton of milk so she could scarf down a bowl of cereal. She grabbed it and shut the fridge.
Clara considered her mom, feigning nonchalance. “What, Mom?”
“There’s something she’s keeping from me and you know exactly what it is.”
She hated that her mother was right. Even worse, she hated lying to her, and so Clara looked away and grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets. She could feel her mother staring at her back as she poured the cereal, and when Clara turned around she was still staring at her.
“Okay, you’re right, but it’s really not my place. It’s up to Lacy to tell you when she’s ready to talk. I’m not about to get in the middle if she’s not ready to share.”
Leanna seemed to consider this. “Is it life threatening?”
Clara tamped down the smartass inside her that wanted to say it depended on whose life they were talking about. If it were Lacy’s husband, well, indifference and growing apart or not, her sister could be quite the firecracker. Light a fuse and she’d go off.
“Lacy’s fine, Mom. She just has a lot going on...you know?”
“And what about you, Clara?” Leanna scrutinized her daughter.
And Clara could feel herself shrinking. “I’m fine too, Mom.”
“Really? You look thin.”
Clara could almost hear her mom projecting the ‘almost too thin’ that hung on the end of her barely concealed scrutiny. “I said I’m fine, okay?”
Leanna shook her head. “And how come you didn’t bring that young man home with you? Mark?”
Cripes.
She’d completely forgotten that she’d mentioned ‘dating’ Mark. It was a defensive maneuver so Mom would stop prying into her love life. Clara supposed that she just wanted to know that she was happy.
But are you happy? Not gonna go there.
“We broke up.”
The words were out of her mouth before she’d had a chance to think about what they meant. They’d never really been together in the first place, but Mom wouldn’t understand that. Clara had a feeling that she’d be looking for a new job sooner than she’d thought. But oddly enough all she felt was ambivalence. It didn’t feel terrifying—no, it was an unexpected relief. She looked into her mother’s concerned expression, the one that all parents give because they never want to see their children end up alone.
“What happened?” her mom asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Okay, Mom?”
Leanna gave her a once-over from head to foot and took a sip of coffee while she seemed to contemplate whether to push the issue; or maybe she was trying to decide if her daughter was a lost cause when it came to love. Clara could only imagine from the disappointed look her mother gave her over the top of her mug.
“Well, it would’ve been nice to get to meet him. That’s all I’m saying.”
It wasn’t all that she was saying, but Clara swirled her spoon in her Cheerios rather than arguing.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Hmmm…”
“Do you still have those notebooks from college?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking about something I wrote and wanted to look for it.”
“They’re in the closet in the back bedroom.”
Clara plopped into a wooden chair at the table.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said around a mouthful of cereal.
* * *
Clara’s cell rang on the way over to the nursing home. Mom let her borrow the car. She’d spent all morning digging through boxes in the bedroom that her mother used for quilting projects. But she’d finally found the notebook she’d been looking for.
Lacy calling…
“Hey,” Clara said.
“Hey, where are you at?”
She glanced at the notebook on the seat next to her with at least a dozen poems from her college days. “On my way to see Grandpa.”
There was a very un-Lacy-like silence on the other end.
“Lacy?”
“Maybe we could get together for lunch and you should go over later.”
There was something in her sister’s tone.
“Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I just thought it might be nice to grab a bite to eat.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re a terrible liar, but I’ll take you up on dinner instead.”
More silence and then finally, “Okay, fine. Have it your way, but you’re not going to like my pick.”
“As long as it’s not Chinese then we’re good.”
Chinese food when you were used to Chinatown in New York City just couldn’t compete.
“I was thinking more like Italian,” Lacy said, but there was something in her voice.
“You know what I like.”
Lacy laughed. “Yeah, I do. Do you?”
Clara laughed. “I could go for some pasta.”
“Okay, I’ll make reservations and swing by the house around six.”
“Works for me.”
“Okay, see you later then,” Lacy said.
Clara hung up and swung into the parking lot of Springbrook Nursing Home.
* * *
Luciano Ventura stepped away from the water fountain and did a double-take when Clara walked through the doors of Springbrook Nursing Home, her hips swaying in a way he thought he’d forgotten. God, he hadn’t seen her since his last trip to New York, and she looked every bit as stunning.
He watched every move, every curve. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he knew every inch of her body and the way she walked with an air of confidence that was really a lie. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her—from her hips to tits to those lips that did things that used to be illegal in some states.
She made her way past the nurse’s station carrying a beat-up purple notebook tucked under her arm, and she was heading down the hall right toward him.
Clara stopped when she spotted him leaning against the wall next to the fountain. She almost dropped the notebook.
“Luca, what are you doing here?” she blurted.
He laughed. “I should be the one asking you that. I live here. Remember?”
She looked flushed, frazzled, and Luca loved it. Clara hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen her. Same angular chin, perky nose, and deep brown eyes that he could get lost in all over again.
“I’m here to see my grandfather. I came home for Christmas,” she blurted again.
He smiled. “Yeah, well, I kinda figured that.”
Clara shifted nervously. “Sorry. I…” She gestured to the nursing home. “Are you visiting someone?”
“I’m here to bring lunch to Angelina,” Luca said as he held up a takeout bag. “She doesn’t work at the hospital anymore.”
“Right. Well, tell your sister I said hi.”
“Tell her yourself after you get done visiting your grandfather. I’m sure she’s got some stories for you. He really keeps the nurses on their toes. He’s quite the character.”
Clara blushed. “I’m sure.” She swallowed. “Well, it was nice to see you.”
Liar.
He crossed his arms and smirked at her.
“Uh-huh.”
“I…”
Luca knew
one thing for sure. He was probably the last person she’d expected to see at that moment, but obviously he could still get to her. The chemistry that fired between them without him even touching her had been that way since they were sixteen. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing her, pressing her against the wall, and kissing her until she really did drop that notebook.
*
Clara couldn’t think straight when he was looking like he wanted to rip her clothes off. It was just her luck that his sister didn’t work at the county hospital anymore.
Wait. Did Lacy set her up? She’d practically warned her to stop by later, then decided not to, but damn her for messing with her anyway. It was just like her sister to do this. She’d practically idolized Luca and never did understand why Clara moved away or broke up with him.
And seeing him was beyond complicated. The fact that he looked so fine in a pair of jeans didn’t help matters, either. Those deep brown eyes and lashes that a woman would kill for tied her stomach into gigantic knots.
“Luca…”
If she was being honest with herself, those knots tore through her and headed south, leaving her weak at the knees (even if that sounded cliché). Her palms were sweating just from thinking about the time he kissed the back of her knee and inched higher and higher…
Stop it.
“Luca, I have to go.”
“Really? Why don’t we grab a coffee after you visit your grandfather?”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both,” she whispered as she took two steps backward and crossed her arms over the notebook in front of her as if it were a shield.
“Clara, please don’t be a stranger while you’re in town.”
His eyes were saying a thousand things that words never could. God, she was a freaking mess.
“Luca…I…it’s not a good idea.”
He looked genuinely puzzled. “What’s not a good idea?”
“I’m here to see my family and so are you. I don’t want to keep you.” Clara wanted to get as far away from Luca as she possibly could. His masculine presence filled the hallway just like he had once filled her heart. “Merry Christmas.”
A lump of emotion welled in her throat, and then Clara turned and practically ran toward her grandfather’s room.