SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One)

by Jerri Corgiat

  Stan lurched against him. “Y’er all right, buddy. Lemme tell you ‘bout my wife. Cute li’l number, in’t she? But she’s always got ants in her drawers over sumpthin.’ Sunk my car, my poor beautiful car. Cost me a mint, poor pretty car. Hey! Ya know what? Passe-Lee’s havin’ a baby.” He tried to give Jon a punch on the arm, but it glanced off. “An’ it’s Christmas Eve. You believe that?”

  Lil sighed. Well, Jon had wanted a family, and he’d landed in hers, warts and all. As the two disappeared through the doorway, Jon gave her a long, level look. Her heart tripped and then raced over the mingled heat and promise in his eyes. She turned toward the stove, grabbed a whisk and whipped at the chocolate. Is this what she wanted? Her stirring slowed. Allowing this to continue would result in a broken heart. Her broken heart. And she wasn’t sure she could patch it together a second time.

  An hour later, Stan’s head had hit the table. His snores echoed off the dining room walls. Jon had settled between the children on the sofa, Michael on his lap, Mel’s head on his shoulder. The hot chocolate had been reduced to a skein of scalded milk along the bottom of the pot. Scrubbing it, Lil stood at the kitchen sink. Sleet continued to pick at the black windowpanes. Overhead, floorboards creaked as the EMTs, who’d arrived a while ago to Doc Jacobson’s relief, worked in tandem with her mother and sisters delivering Patsy Lee’s baby. She’d peeked in on them, but the crowded bedroom and Mari’s continued coolness convinced her to return to the kitchen.

  A long, thin wail echoed down the stairway. She froze, then joy flared in the pit of her stomach. From the living room, she heard high voices. Feet thudded to the floor. Face alight, Jon appeared in the doorway. They shared a look of mingled relief and excitement, then she gave a silent prayer of thanks for a new life on this holiest of nights.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “COME ON.” Lil tugged on Jon’s hand. “It’s okay.” They tiptoed into her parents’ high-ceilinged bedroom. A dimmed lamp cast a halo on the four-poster bed where Patsy Lee lay sleeping, her hair a dark tangle, her baby at her breast. She’d named the baby Lily.

  The wind hurled ice pellets against the windows. A sharp stab of regret lanced Jon.

  “Is something wrong?” Lil whispered.

  “Uh, no.” He hadn’t been around for his own kids’ births. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t remember. But looking at Patsy Lee with her newborn, he realized it did matter. Maybe not to his kids, but it mattered one helluva lot to him. For the first time he thought Belinda had a damn good reason to want to hurt him. Lil was still frowning at him.

  “Yes,” he said in whispered vehemence. “Everything’s wrong.”Her frown deepened, but she squeezed his hand. He drew a deep breath. “I missed everything. Their births, those first belly laughs, first steps, lost teeth, first words. All those firsts.”

  He’d missed birthdays, holidays, and other special occasions. He just hadn’t been there. Not for Mel’s spelling bees, not when Michael had learned to throw a ball, not for picnics or walks in the park or trips to the playground. He’d left it all to Belinda and Dodo, telling himself it was the best he could do.

  “I was a really crummy dad.”

  The pressure on his hand tightened. “They still love you.”

  “They don’t have any reason to.”

  And unless he made some changes, one day they’d lose interest. He didn’t think he could bear that. For some reason, though, instead of sinking into his usual pot of self-pity, the scene before him fired him with the ambition to do better, to be better.

  “You’re giving them the reasons. Right now.” Lil looked over at Patsy Lee. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears but serene in the kiss of the lamplight.

  He realized Lil must have mixed feelings about this new baby and wondered if she knew how strong and powerful she was. An unusual feeling stole over him. Hope. He felt hope. Maybe she could silence that grating voice in his head that murmured his old man had been right.

  Turning, they tiptoed out of the room and met Zinnia puffing up the staircase. “Well, that’s that.” They joined her at the landing. “Been listening to the radio. They’ve closed Main, the highway, just about everything coming and going, You all will have to stay here tonight. I’ve already shooed Roy and the kids off to bed. All the bedrooms down here are full, so the two of you’ll take the attic room.” She nodded her head at Jon and a sly look crossed her features. “Cold up there, but I’m sure you’ll find ways to stay warm.”

  Amused, he saw panic bloom on Lil’s face.

  Zinnia patted Lil’s shoulder. “Now, don’t you worry none. You aren’t sharin’ with Alcea and Stan. There’s two big beds up there, Jon. Kids used to use them for slumber parties when they were little.” She addressed Lil again. “Alcea left an hour or more ago. They’re going to some big ‘do’ at the club tomorrow morning, and Alcea was all in a dither about not having the right clothes.” She snorted. “Riskin’ their necks to get dressed up for Christmas Brunch. Serve her right if they spend the night in a snow drift. But you two—well, you were all planning to be here in the morning anyways, so might as well get an early start.”

  “But—”

  “Now, Lilac Elizabeth, don’t go getting stubborn on me. There’s a couple of new toothbrushes in the bathroom up there, shampoo, soap, brush. And I put some old robes of mine and your dad’s up there, too. Slippers might be a bit big, but there it is.” She slapped Jon on the back. “Welcome to the O’Malley Hotel.” Then she leaned toward him, wagged a finger and said in a stage whisper he was sure could be heard downstairs, “Now don’t you go letting my daughter get cold, you hear?”

  Lil stood rooted in place, gnawing on her lower lip. Zinnia gave her a devilish smile. He suddenly realized she knew the way things were, bless her meddling little heart.

  “Now, go on. Scoot. I’ll take care of that mess in the kitchen. It’s nearing eleven and, if I know my mistletoe, you’ll hear the pattering of little feet around five.”

  Her tread hit the stairs. He looked at Lil.

  She stared back at him from wide eyes, then straightened her shoulders. “Well. I guess we’ll have to make the best of it. There’s two beds, after all.”

  He couldn’t help it. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

  With a look that mirrored her mother’s, she shook a finger at him and hissed, “And don’t you go letting yourself forget our agreement.”

  He hadn’t forgotten their damn agreement, but with a heart lighter than it had ever been, he wondered if he could find a loophole or two before the night was over.

  ***

  In the attic, Lil snatched one of the two pillows from an iron-steaded double bed and hurled it onto an old sleigh bed that lay in the shadows on the other side. She stalked over and punched it for good measure. The scent of lavender floated up, combating a smell of mothballs. Her mother had made up only one bed. Darned if she’d give it to Jon. He’d just have to sleep on the bare mattress of the other, but she supposed she couldn’t let him freeze. Seeking anything she might use—and trying to close her ears to Jon’s cheerful singing in the shower—she looked around.

  The attic was lit by a single lamp. Open to the rafters, the ice hitting the shingles sounded like a hive of angry hornets battling to get in. She shivered and pulled Zinnia’s faded yellow chenille robe tight. Her mother could have at least given her the sash.

  She spotted a trunk. Hurrying against the time when that bathroom door would open, she pulled the cord on a lightbulb and hefted the lid. Her robe gaped, revealing her plain, white bra and serviceable briefs. Not the stuff of romance, thank God. After she’d showered in the tiny square of a bathroom, making sure the latch was secure because she didn’t quite trust the light in Jon’s eyes, she’d considered sleeping in her clothes but abandoned the idea. Her dress couldn’t weather the abuse, and it had taken her hours to sew.

  Several quilts were folded inside the chest. She dragged them out, carried them to the second bed and dropped them on
the mattress. There. Returning to close the trunk, her eyes caught on a leather-bound book. Slowly she drew it out. Perching on the bed, she settled the heavy volume on her lap and drew a finger over gold-embossed lettering. Our Wedding. She hesitated, then folded back the cover.

  Inside, a heart-shaped cutout framed a photograph of her and Robbie. Robbie stared at the camera, his eyes glowing with happiness, and Lil leaned against him, looking up with an adoring smile. They looked so young. They were so young.

  The remembered pain of his death caught in her throat, and she touched the image. A series of vignettes unfolded in her mind… Their tiny apartment in Warrensburg. Robbie walking down the shaded atrium at commencement. The funny, little, yellow house with its dripping bathroom faucet and uneven back steps. She’d scrubbed it until it shined, sewn curtains, packed the window boxes with cascades of coral-faced geraniums, kept its tiny kitchen full of mouth-watering scents. And dreamed of the day the bedrooms would fill with children.

  She’d never forget the day she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d rushed from the doctor directly to the John Deere outlet where Robbie had just been promoted to manager. Under a brilliant blue, high-summer sky, in the parking lot where he unloaded the bright green-and-yellow tractors, she’d shouted the news over the roar of the engines. He’d swung off one of the beasts and swept her up in his arms. They’d twirled until both were breathless. Only a few months later, he was dead. The baby was dead.

  There wasn’t a moment of her past that didn’t hold a memory of him.

  Except for the last five months. She slowly closed the cover on the heart-shaped photo.

  The sounds of the shower ceased, and she cast a look at the bathroom door. A pause, and then she heard the sounds of gargling.

  With Robbie, she’d always known where she was going. Each step had naturally followed the last. But with Jon…

  He had awakened long-dormant emotions in her, feelings she’d thought had deserted her. The curl of warmth in her stomach when he looked at her with that cockeyed smile, the need to smooth the crease from between his eyebrows when he worried, the ribbon of desire that twirled and tightened between them. And uncertainty. Dear God, she was so uncertain.

  The gargling stopped and silence followed. Quickly, she carried the photo album back to the trunk and yanked the chain of the overhead bulb, casting most of the space into darkness. Hurrying to the sleigh bed, she sank down on the mattress, made sure her robe was closed, folded her hands and waited.

  The bathroom door creaked open. She looked up. And gaped.

  Jon stood framed in the doorway, his ears peeking out between strands of freshly washed hair that dripped down the folds of Pop’s robe. My, what a robe. Bright yellow and peacock purple with flaming red lightning bolts streaking across shiny rayon. A purple sash circled Jon’s trim waist. His feet wore matching red velvet slippers, the size of canoes. He looked like a wizard.

  A smile tugged the side of her mouth. Pop had worn that? She knew his taste was gaudy, but was this what her mother…her father…found sexy? The smile broadened and a gurgle sounded in her throat.

  Jon grimaced. “Cool, huh?”

  The gurgle erupted into a laugh, then she let loose with a hoot that came straight from the belly. There was a thump under her feet.

  Zinnia’s voice echoed from below. “Hey! Keep it down up there.”

  Shaking and helpless, she covered her mouth.

  Jon’s grin faltered as her torrent of giggles slid into sobs, then back into guffaws. Covering her face, she wept.

  He covered the space between them in a few strides and sat down beside her. “Hey…what’s all this?”

  “M-mari… Robbie, Lily… Henry.” She fluttered a hand. “The holidays, m-maybe…” Pent-up emotion erupted, racking her body. “I’ve t-tried… I’ve tried so hard.” To take what life had dealt her and, God help her, turn it into damned lemonade. It was what she’d been taught, all she knew how to do. But she didn’t want to be strong anymore. She wanted… she wanted…

  Blindly, she reached for him, tugging at the lapels of the godawful robe and pulling him close. His arms wrapped around her. She sank her head onto his chest, clutching, hanging on for dear life. One of his strong hands furrowed through her hair and cupped the back of her head.

  Safe. She felt so safe. She burrowed in against him, strained toward him.

  Gently, he tugged on her hair until she looked him full in the face. His eyes were home, warmed by a flame that burned deep. “Lil,” he whispered as his head dipped toward hers. “It’s okay to love again, Lil.”

  Their lips met, tentatively at first, a taste, a nibble. Then searching, seeking, probing. Hot and consuming, their mouths melded together, and they fell back on the bed. Lil didn’t hesitate, had no thoughts of stopping. A dim thought told her maybe she’d regret this tomorrow, but for right now, he was everything she needed. Everything she wanted.

  She gasped as Jon’s warm hands heated her cool flesh through the bathrobe, then she sought him through his, parting the robe, pressing him back against the mattress, pressing her palm flat against the smooth strength of his chest. She explored the soft burr of hair, sliding her hand lightly over his nipples, feeling the steady beat of his heart, then learning the stairstep of his ribcage, the hollow tautness of his stomach. Astonished at her audacity, she let her hand dip lower to the band of his shorts. As her fingertips slid under the elastic, he gave a sudden grunt and rose up, spilling her on her back.

  “Slower, Lil. Slower,” he whispered.

  She didn’t want slow. She wanted all of it, and all of it now. She wanted his warmth, the safety of his arms, the gentleness in his heart. She pulled him to her, shivering as his mouth danced over her neck, her face, her lips. Her hands kneaded the muscles of his back, feeling them quiver under a light film of sweat. Impatiently, she pulled at the neck of the bathrobe until it was a puddle on the floor, then slid her hands down, his shorts down, until he was naked, his erection hard on her thigh.

  With a moan, he drew back, then drew her on top. His eyes blazed. His hands, those talented, strong musician’s hands, stripped her of her robe, her underwear, then played her body, stroking, caressing, dipping, following the curve of her back and over her buttocks. Everywhere he touched laid a trail of fire. She rolled sideways, opening herself, face rosy at her brashness but unwilling to take any less than he was willing to give.

  He paused, staring down at her, then trailed his fingers over the curve of her breast and down her belly. “God. So beautiful, Lil. You’re so beautiful.”

  Words were for later. She ached, she wanted. She mewed with impatience, wrapped her fingers in his long hair and pulled his head down. She was beyond caring about anything, anything except him. His mouth found her breasts, his fingers her core. He teased, he stroked, and she shattered, her hips rising, back arching.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes and relaxed into the mattress. Her heartbeat slowed, and reason replaced rapture. Although she could feel the aroused tension in his body, Jon was still, one hand in her hair. Suddenly needing reassurance, she opened her eyes and sought his. Was he amused? Shocked? She wouldn’t wonder if he was.

  But his gaze was soft and concerned. “Are you sure?”

  For a fleeting moment, she wondered. It felt strange to make love without mention of love, but while the words trembled on her lips, she couldn’t voice them.

  His eyes reflected her thoughts. “Lil, I—”

  She put her fingertips to his mouth, stilling the thought before he could say it. Love implied a promise she wasn’t sure she could make. To Jon, perhaps, but not to his life. Instead, she simply nodded. “I’m sure,” she whispered.

  And as his hands and mouth found her again, she was. Sure this was the haven she’d longed for, sure this was what she needed right now. What happened tomorrow she’d deal with tomorrow. Within moments, she gasped with an urgent need for release. “Please…” She heard herself beg.

  His answer was a long moan an
d when they joined, her world flew apart and then crystallized into a single focus as she urged him upward and allowed him to take them soaring into mindless, shuddering oblivion.

  ***

  The next time they made love, Jon took his time, all the time he wanted. He explored Lil’s body, using his mouth, his hands, acquainting himself with every part of her, moving at his leisure from the sweet arch of her feet, to the tender, soft skin between her thighs, to the rosebud breasts, then back to find the tender center of her. Time and again, he drew her to the peak but refused to let her go, delighting at the pleasure he gave her and giving himself a chance to recover from the absolutely mind-blowing orgasm of that first experience. He’d never felt such a rush. He’d pictured them making love before, but in his imagination, he’d been gentle, solicitous in response to what he’d thought would be her reserve. He never suspected she’d drive him wild to match her passion.

  When he entered her this time, intending long, slow strokes and a leisurely stride to the top, he couldn’t contain himself, and again she matched him stroke for stroke. Once more, they came fast and hard together, both crying out, more softly this time. They slumped together.

  Underneath them, they heard Zinnia give a strangled yell in her sleep. Lil smiled against his shoulder. “My mother talks in her sleep.”

  “Correction. She talks all the time.” Grinning, he laid back, an arm thrown over his head. She scooted to nestle against him, her head on his chest. He liked having her close, liked the way she felt tucked into his side. She made him feel strong, made him feel like he’d found the pieces in himself he’d been missing. “I like your mother.”

  “I do, too.” Lil’s hand brushed his chest, ran up his neck and into his hair. For a moment she was silent, playing with the sensitive spot behind his ear. Then, “What happened to yours?”