Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series)

by Laurie LeClair

The muscles beneath her questing digit shifted and he shot her a lop-sided grin. “I guess I’m still stuck in a time warp after checking these out.” He tapped his hand on the pile of books stacked to his right. “I’ve avoided them for so long.”

  “Does this nostalgic trip have anything to do with you taking Sean under your wing and allowing him to sleep over in Vinnie’s old room?”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “It’s like clearing out the cobwebs on a shrine, sweetness. It stirs up a lot of dust.”

  An ache behind her rib cage arrowed through her heart. On one hand she realized what a good strong influence he’d be in the fatherless boy’s life. But, on the other hand, she also knew how this encounter had ripped the scab off of Nick’s wounded soul. Leaning forward, she dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Oh, Nick, how can I help you?”

  Turning to her, he searched her face. His long, lingering gaze filled her with such warmth, such caring. “You have already, by being in my life, by forcing me to take off the blinders and see what happened for what it really was.” He paused for a moment. “But there is something you have in your power that could point us all in the direction of recovering totally.”

  Confusion washed over her. “All? I don’t understand.”

  “Let me adopt Sydney.” His plea, filled with rough emotion, tugged at her core.

  She pulled away, feeling the color drain from her face. Standing abruptly, she moved to the fireplace, keeping her back to him. With her eyes tightly shut, her mind screamed, Noooo! “Adopt?” she managed to ask on a puff of air.

  Why haven’t I prepared myself for this? Of course he’d want to claim Sydney. How stupid of me not to think this far ahead.

  “Is it so absurd to you to even consider it?” His voice rang with restrained anger. “The only way we’ll be a real family is if I take Sydney for my own. Your daughter is worried about going to school next week and not having a daddy when most of the other kids will.”

  Stunned wonder raced through her; she had no idea the lack of a father bothered Sydney. With one hand she grabbed hold of the wooden mantel, and then twisted to look at him. “She told you that?” At his curt nod, she asked, “When? She never once said anything to me about it.”

  He smiled grimly. “You’d be surprised at what goes on in that little head of hers.” Dragging a hand over his face, he let out a sigh. “It seems Sherrie’s stepfather is petitioning to adopt her, so it’s been a frequent topic of conversation for the two best friends lately.”

  A frigid hand squeezed Bree’s heart until it hurt. “She’s got you,” she croaked.

  He locked gazes with her. “What if something happens to you? Can you guarantee that the courts will give her to me?”

  “I left you custody of Sydney in my will.”

  It was his turn to look taken aback. “Wh…when did you do that?”

  Should she lie through her teeth? She dug her fingertips into the hard wood, welcoming the anchor. Swallowing hard, she knew what she had to do. “The day she was born.”

  His wide, dazed expression seemed more in agreement with someone who had just witnessed an explosion. The atmosphere rang with eerie stillness. She watched as he tried to form words, but nothing escaped his mouth.

  “I—” She cleared her suddenly clogged throat, dropped her arm, and then wrung her hands together. “I couldn’t trust Vinnie to do the best job. You were always there for me, Nick, even when we were barely speaking. I hoped you’d always be there for my daughter. For Sydney’s sake.”

  Please, God, let him be there for Sydney even if he ever finds out my secret. Don’t let her life suffer because of my mistakes.

  “You know I will?”

  Do I? Do I really?

  Rising, he came toward her, stopping only a few scant inches away. “So you shouldn’t have any objections to me adopting her now.”

  Avoiding his penetrating dark eyes, she stared at the design and lettering on his favorite Boston Red Sox T-shirt. She shrugged. “There’s really no reason to, is there? I mean, she does have your last name and everything.”

  “There’s every reason to,” he said between gritted teeth. “Put yourself in her shoes, Bree. She wants to fit in when she goes to kindergarten. It’s going to be pretty bad when she has to explain how her mother ended up being married to her grandfather.”

  When she went to speak, to defend herself, he held up a hand, saying, “Wait, before you say it I will. She’s heard the gossip already just by being exposed while at your beauty shop. It hurt her when she learned some people think we’re different, odd even.”

  A mother’s rage bolted through her, firing her blood. She balled her hands into fists. “Damn those people!”

  “That’s mild compared to what I thought,” he grumbled. “Now do you see how important this is? For your daughter’s sake put aside your own misgivings, your own feelings.”

  I’ve done that since the day I discovered I was pregnant with her, but no one knows it. Sydney always comes first.

  As he waited expectantly for her reply, she felt the walls closing in on her. Her thundering heartbeat filled her eardrums. The air became hot and stuffy. The scent of his sandalwood after-shave seemed to intensify, almost overwhelming her.

  And her mind swam, keeping any coherent excuse at bay. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes, would be a good answer right about now.”

  Could she go through with it? Did she dare?

  Think of Sydney’s future happiness, think of her wellbeing if the truth ever came out. What would Nick’s lawyer dig up when he researched her past for the court documents? He’d find out, I just know he would. Then Nick would know, too.

  Shuddering inwardly at the horror of that outcome and the ensuing damage, she grabbed at a tiny thread spinning through her scattering thoughts. “You once said you couldn’t be the father of my baby when you couldn’t trust me, Nick. What makes this any different?”

  He froze. “It just is.”

  Grasping for her daughter’s life and peace of mind, she said, “I don’t think it is.”

  The grim look on his face told her more than words. “Is this some type of emotional blackmail, Bree? Until I can learn to trust you, then you won’t agree to the adoption.”

  A sinking sensation flooded her middle. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  “Well, I will.” Taking a step closer, he settled his big hands on her shoulders. “How am I supposed to trust you when we both know you’re still keeping things from me?”

  A band constricted around her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  It even hurt her to take a small breath. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Nick?”

  “There’s someone out there looking for you.”

  Panic infringed on her mind, blurring the edges of her sanity. She tried to shrug off his assumption, but the weight of his hand prevented her from budging her shoulder one bit. “Oh, you’re talking about the phone calls again—”

  “Father Tom told me that they’ve received some at the rectory asking about your past.”

  A cold sheen of perspiration bathed her body.

  So that’s what that little talk was all about.

  Frantically, she shifted through her numb brain for an answer. “You know, I think I figured out what they’re all about. My high school reunion always comes up about this time of year. I haven’t kept in touch with them since I moved here when I married Vinnie. I bet you it’s just someone from the alumni committee who saw the announcement in the paper and wants to send me an invitation.”

  She waited with baited breath for his response. The pressure on her shoulders eased and he ran his hands down the length of her arms. Her tumbling insides settled down as his features relaxed into smooth lines.

  “I suppose that could explain it,” he said more to himself than to her. “I’ll check into it for you.”

  A tightness grabbed her throat and she al
most choked. “I’ll take care of it, since I have to hunt through a bunch of packed boxes to find the lady’s name that runs these things.”

  He frowned down at her. “But you will tell me how it turns out, won’t you?”

  The lump lodged in her throat seemed to grow to mammoth proportions. She smiled weakly. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your number will be up soon, Bree, my girl, if you don’t stop him from destroying your life…and your little girl.

  Chapter 29

  “Well, Princess, that’s the last of them,” Nick said as he taped the final cardboard box shut. Over the last week he’d rummaged through all of Vinnie’s things, disposing of the useless, giving away clothes to the needy, and storing some treasure for Sydney when she grew up.

  For himself, Nick had kept a half dozen items that captured the essence of his son: the half inflated football they’d spent endless hours passing back and forth while talking about life; a worn out photo of a toothless Vinnie and the first fish he’d caught; his favorite childhood toy, a red metal fire truck; the battered Boston Red Sox baseball cap Nick had bought Vinnie at the very first game he’d taken his son to at Fenway Park; the gold pocket watch passed from each Carletti policeman to the next generation carrying a torch for justice; and the badge Vinnie had loved so much he’d died for.

  As Nick looked at the bare walls with outlines where pictures and posters hung only a short time ago, he said a silent good-bye to the little boy, and then the young man.

  He’d thought the parting would be unbearably painful. But, in fact, he experienced a lightheartedness and a sense of peace that had alluded him for years.

  How could he have ever known facing the painful past, what hurt the most, would finally give him solace?

  His gaze came to rest on the sleeping form of his pink pajama-clad granddaughter curled up under the crumpled bedspread on the twin bed. A sweet ache tugged at him.

  Lord, I love that little girl.

  In a few short strides, he drew near, and then bent to tenderly scoop her up in his arms. She mumbled in her sleep and snuggled close. “It’s all right, Princess, I’m just taking you to your own bed.”

  Dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her hair, he caught the fragrant green apple scent of the shampoo she and Bree used.

  As he made his way down the hall to her bedroom, he marveled at the wondrous little things Bree had brought into his life since their marriage.

  Living with her heady scent, strawberry bubble bath, and green apple hair products stirred his senses to life. The softness of her touch eased a hungry ache deep in his soul. The feel of her cradled in his arms appeased his battered heart.

  But the sight of her in his house brought boundless joy and a fierce rightness to his world.

  Halting at the side of Sydney’s bed, Nick smiled at the pretty pink and white room Bree had reconstructed in his home. Every detail spoke of her love for her child.

  “Hey, you forgot to say your prayers tonight,” Nick said softly to her.

  “’Gether, Poppa.”

  He chuckled. One time, not too long ago, that would have struck a chord of fear in him, but he’d faced so many demons lately that praying no longer was one. “How about if you just say, God bless everyone, will that due?”

  “I’d say that covers it all,” Bree said from the doorway.

  He whipped his head around. The sight of her warmed him. “You know you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. It’s liable to get you in trouble someday.” He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

  She walked to him. Standing on tip-toe, she brushed a sweet kiss across his lips. When she pulled away he longed for more. “I’ll remember that, Sarge.”

  She caressed her daughter’s rosy cheek, gaining a sigh and a murmured, “Mommy.”

  “How’s my little sweetpea?”

  Nick gently placed Sydney on the bed, and then tucked the covers around her little shoulders. “Worn out from all the packing she’s helped me with while you were working tonight.”

  Putting his arm around Bree, he pulled her close, savoring the feel of her pressed to his side. When she dropped her head to his chest and pressed a hand to his middle, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Standing like that, Nick stared at the little girl.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Bree whispered.

  “Like her mother.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go have some coffee and leave her to dreamland.”

  “Wine would be better.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  A few minutes later, Nick brought a glass of red wine to Bree as she reclined in Nana’s favorite peach armchair in the sun room. Her fingers brushed his as she took the crystal stemware. A river of warmth flooded his bloodstream at the light caress.

  “Thanks, Nick.” Her voice sounded breathy. She sipped at the ruby red liquid.

  A restlessness invaded his middle at the matter he longed to broach. Normally, he’d work off the antsy sensation by lifting weights. But tonight he knew he must settle this here and now.

  Discarding his own glass on the nearby table, he went from one wilting hanging potted plant to another. The fragrant bunch of flowers brought a rush of memories of his grandmother lovingly nurturing them.

  A pang of remorse at his lack of attention to her beauties nudged him in his gut. Maybe with Bree’s help they could work to make them flourish again, but first… “I guess without Nana’s TLC these things won’t last too much longer.”

  “Why is it I have a feeling you’re really not talking about her plants?” There seemed to be an anxious quality to her question as she placed her wine beside his untouched goblet.

  He stopped fiddling with the long arm of an Ivy, and then turned to her. Smiling sheepishly because he’d been so transparent, he said, “Your instincts are pretty good, sweetness. I don’t want to poison what’s good between us, killing what we have because I’ve neglected digging deep inside myself for some answers.”

  “And the lack of TLC relates to us not tending to the weeds in our hearts, is that it?”

  “Man, you’re good!” Sighing, he made his way to the ottoman in front of her chair. Dropping down onto it, he faced her with his hands cupped between his knees and just inches from her legs. Her inquisitive expression prompted him to explain the one thing he still wrestled with. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said last week about the adoption.”

  Not a muscle moved on her face, her expression remaining curious. But he swore she flinched inwardly. He didn’t know how he knew it. He just did.

  “Go on.” Those two tightly spoken words said it all.

  “I don’t know why I assumed you would hand over your daughter to me so I could have legal joint custody. In your shoes, I know I wouldn’t either.”

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “So you understand my position then?”

  Nodding, he said, “You’re not the only one holding back in this relationship, Bree. Based on my experiences with Dorthea I can’t trust any woman completely.”

  She sat forward, clearly anxious to hear more. “Completely?”

  Mere inches separated her from him now. He noted the change in her eye color form hazel to gray, telling him how concerned she was about the subject matter.

  Raking a hand over his face, he measured his words. “Admittedly, on a fundamental level, there’s a thin element of mutual trust running between us.” At her skeptical look, he continued, “For you, you allow me, even welcome it on occasion, to influence the direction of Sydney’s life with my values, principles, and whatever else you see in me that you wish your daughter to learn.”

  “You’re a good, decent man, Nick, of course I want you to teach her what you know, the difference between right and wrong, love…and everything else that makes you you.” She paused.

  He held his breath.

  “If I didn’t admire you as a man then why, on our honeymoon, would I have even brought up the subject of my wanting to have your baby,
to give us both that precious gift?”

  Shaken at her candor at her undying faith in him, Nick just stared at her for long, drawn out moments. “Wow! You sure know how to take me by surprise.”

  Clearing the haze of heady emotion her words evoked, he went on trying to make his point. “Even when we were at out lowest points after Vinnie died, you still turned to me. When Sydney had to undergo a tonsillectomy last year I was the first one you called. And I know how much it cost you to ask me.”

  “Beg you, is more like it,” she corrected, blinking back the moisture gathering at the corners of her now bluish gray eyes.

  He allowed her that, sending her a lop-sided grin. “All right, when you begged me to come be with her the day she had to go into the hospital.”

  Gently, she caressed his cheek with her silky soft palm. “You were so sweet, Nick. You insisted on picking us up and driving us there. You spent all morning holding her hand and talking through her fears. Then you stayed with me waiting anxiously for word. You don’t know how much that meant to me.”

  Scowling at her, he asked, “What, did you think I’d just let you go through that silent torture by yourself?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Never! I guess I never doubted you’d be there even when she had to be admitted for observation after she threw up all that blood.”

  Grabbing her hands in his, he absorbed the shiver of revulsion racking her at the horrible memory. Trying to release the fierce grip the past held, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Hey, technically, that was the first night we ever spent together.”

  Her chuckle warmed the cold regions that had gathered in his center. Sobering, she picked up on something he’d said a short time ago. “Between us? You mean you do trust me on some level?”

  Withdrawing from her, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the knotted muscles. “This is going to be hard to explain. I’m not even sure I understand it fully myself.”

  “Try.”

  Sucking in a breath, he gathered his courage. “Part of trusting someone is if they keep their word. You do that. Call it honor or integrity, I don’t know, but a promise means something to you.”