by Loree Lough
Ian heard the click that told him the kid had picked up an extension.
“Oh, Ian. It just breaks my heart to know you went through all that alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“Brady and Gladys again...”
“She moved into my apartment.”
“But Gladys was a teacher. I was a nurse.”
“Why can’t we go see him now, Mum?”
“You have exams coming up. That school costs a fortune, and your father will flip his lid if you miss any more days.”
Ian thought he could almost hear the long distance call dollars whooshing from his bank account as they bickered.
He’d just spent a small fortune to impress a woman who couldn’t be impressed...
“Well, guys, it’s late. It was good hearing your voices. I’ll watch for that package, and when it arrives, I’ll shoot you a text.”
“Ian, sweetheart, I know international calls are expensive. Hang up, and I’ll call you right back.”
“But Mum... Dad hasn’t sent the check yet this month.”
Ian heard whispering, and Ruth, trying to muffle the phone with her palm. He caught some words: “Ian isn’t well...” and “...this is our problem...” then “...but Dad left you, not the other way ’round...”
“Guys, guys,” he interrupted, “I can hear you. Don’t worry about what this is costing, and don’t worry about me. What’s going on over there?”
“Dad’s got himself a girlfriend.”
“Frederick! Didn’t I just ask you not to bother Ian with this? Besides, your father and I are working things out.”
Almost word for word what Ruth had told him before her dramatic exit on his sixteenth birthday. His aunt, in typical Gladys fashion, had predicted the new marriage would end this way: “Once a cheater, always a cheater. Only question is, which cheater will cheat first, and how long will it take ’em to find someone to cheat with!”
“Look, you’re both welcome here, anytime. No questions asked, no explanations required.”
“See there, Mum? Ian’s not resentful and he’s kind.”
Kind of crazy, because where would he put them if they took him up on the offer?
Head pounding and bones aching, Ian stifled a yawn.
“Fred, text me after you two have figured things out.”
He rattled off his cell number, wished them well, said he loved them, and hung up. “Good thing you already took your walk,” he said to Cash, “’cause the way I feel right now, you’d have to wait until morning.”
Ian bolted the door and turned out the lights. In his room, he kicked off his shoes and dropped heavily onto the bed without even pulling back the covers. All things considered, life was as close to perfect as it gets. The business was thriving, family was close by and in good health...
Cash leaped onto the bed and flopped down beside him.
...he had a four-legged pal who thought he’d hung the moon, money in the bank, and his battered body was on the mend.
Eyes closed, Ian began to drift off, thinking, what more could a man ask for?
Ian, sweetheart, Ruth had said, you deserve a good woman at your side.
Deserve...
“Cash, ol’ buddy, I think I just figured something out.”
The dog rested his chin on Ian’s uninjured thigh.
“I’m getting what I deserve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SHE’D CALLED HALF a dozen times without leaving messages, thinking Ian would recognize her number and return the calls. When he didn’t, Maleah dialed him another half-dozen times, and left voice mails... She loved the daisy necklace. How’s the cactus garden holding up? Is Cash enjoying walks more now that most of the snow had melted?
And still nothing.
If he really had injured himself on the night of the blizzard, she’d have two reasons to feel guilty. One, he’d put his recovery at risk for her, and two, she’d sent him away with little more than a half-baked thank-you. After throwing herself at him.
It was only after she considered calling his aunt that Maleah realized what should have been obvious from the start.
She’d finally pushed him far enough away that he wasn’t coming back.
The knowledge should have come as a relief. Instead, every day that passed, she found it more difficult to concentrate at work. The only time she could truly focus was when a special needs child and parents were in her office.
On Valentine’s Day, since she and Eliot were, as he put it, unattached, he suggested they share a pizza at Leonardo’s and catch a movie. It stung, but Maleah laughed right along with him, pretended the pizza tasted terrific, and cringed when he did as giant metal dinosaurs consumed unsuspecting townsfolk.
The 5K was slated for the first weekend in April, just weeks from now. Mere weeks after that, Washburne’s annual Trek to the Mountains. Thankfully, she’d booked campground space near Rocky Gap months ago, but she hadn’t reserved buses to drive teachers, kids and parent chaperones to the Alleghenies, hadn’t lined up a single interview with staffers or volunteers for the marathon, either.
All facts that hadn’t escaped Stan’s observant eye.
He marched into her office one afternoon and, arms crossed over his chest said, “What in the name of all that’s holy is going on with you, girl?”
This, she thought as he stood, cowboy boots shoulder width apart, is what Mr. Clean might look like in a suit and tie.
“I, um, going on? With, ah, with me?”
He puffed up his cheeks and let the breath out slowly. “Stuff like that, right there!” he bellowed, pointing at her. “Stammering and stuttering, looking like Little Girl Lost...that isn’t you. At least, it didn’t used to be.”
Stan plopped into the chair beside her desk. “Now, hon, I realize things have been a little hairy in your world these past couple months, what with your grandpa’s heart thing, and playing catch-up after the blizzard, but good golly, kid, I would’ve bet my new Caddy that you’d bounce through it like one of those superballs my grandkids toss around the house.”
Grandkids? He didn’t seem like a “sit on my lap and I’ll tell you a story” guy. “Out with it, girl. I promised the little woman dinner at The Charleston.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just a lot to do.” She patted her in-box. “And not enough hours in the day.”
“See, now you’re really scaring me. The Maleah I know and love could juggle six oranges while spinning a dozen plates on bendy poles.”
“Wow,” she said, laughing, “even I admire that Maleah!”
“It’s Ian, isn’t it?”
“Ian? Ian Sylvestry?”
He got up so fast that, for an instant, the chair came with him.
“Kids today, my own included, drive me plumb crazy. You want something, go after it! Don’t like something, put a stop to it! If you’re waiting for somebody to hand you a script, you’ll be waiting until you’re pushin’ up daisies.”
What any of that had to do with Ian, Maleah didn’t know. But by the look on Stan’s face, she had a feeling she was about to find out.
“Somebody’s gotta make the first move, and men his age,” he tapped his temple, “they’re thickheaded. Pick up that phone and arrange a face-to-face. Tell him what he needs to hear, or demand he say what you’re waiting for. Then kiss and make up and get back to being reliable Maleah. There are a lot of people, me included, counting on you, y’know.”
He started for the door. “Well? What’re you waiting for?”
“A little privacy?”
Stan smiled. “I feel better already.”
After ten minutes of pretending to read the file on her desk, she picked up her desk phone’s handset. Stan had a point.
By now, she knew all three o
f his numbers by heart. Maleah dialed the apartment first.
“Leaving a message to say I’m thinking about you and hope you’re better. Call me.” Next, she punched in his cell phone’s digits.
“Called your apartment, left a message. Maybe instead of calling me back, you should call the cops, because not hearing from you makes me feel like a stalker.”
Last on the list, the bistro. Someone had to answer that phone.
“Sur les Quais, how may I help you?”
“Hi Terri, it’s Maleah.”
“This is Linda, Terri’s mom. She’s home with Avery.”
“Uh-oh. Picked up a cold at school, huh?”
“Yes, and it’s a doozy. I’m just standing in until he’s back in school.”
“I hope he’s better soon. Is Ian in his office by any chance?”
“I think so.”
“Do me a favor? Don’t tell him it’s me. I want to surprise him.”
“O-o-kay, whatever you sa-a-y...”
What does she know that I don’t?
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. It’s me.”
“I know.”
“But... Linda said she wouldn’t tell you it was me.”
“She knows how much I hate surprises.” He cleared his throat. “So what can I do for you?”
She recognized his “want to make a reservation or book the banquet room” voice. “Couple of things, actually. Let me buy you dinner. It’s kind of a lot to go into over the phone. Wait. Scratch that. You own a restaurant. Why would you want to go out to eat? I can make something at my place. Lasagna. Meatballs. Garlic bread. Tiramisu.”
“You planning to murder me, ’cause that sounds like a last meal.”
It very well could be his last meal...with her.
“The bistro is closed on Mondays, right?”
“Not since New Year’s.”
“Then...you choose a night.”
“What’s wrong with tonight?”
“Nothing, except...you’re working.”
“The crew can get along without me for a couple hours.”
“But it’s nearly four o’clock.”
“So?”
With every second that ticked painfully by, it became clearer that Ian had no intention of making this easy for her.
“So it takes hours to make sauce from scratch. And I’d need to stop by the store for ground beef. All the cheeses. Noodles. Do you have any idea how long it takes to make homemade lasagna and tiramisu from scratch?”
“Matter of fact, I do.”
Of course he did. “It’ll be midnight before dinner’s ready.”
“Good point. Order a pizza then.”
“I wanted to cook for you, though, as a goodwill gesture.”
“You started off asking me to dinner at some random restaurant...”
Maleah heard one quick click, and would have bet her lighthouse collection that he’d just snapped his fingers and whispered “Gotcha!”
“All right. Pizza. Is six o’clock too early?”
“Nope. See you then.”
I hope you appreciate this, Stan. She grabbed her coat from the hall tree. Something tells me I’m about to begin the longest, hardest night of my life.
* * *
THE WEATHER HAD warmed enough that Ian could have ridden the bike to her house. But the doctor had said that although his body hadn’t rejected the steel pin in his left leg, one good twist or bump could damage the tibia.
So he’d driven the pickup, but made sure to look every bit the Harley-driving ex-con she believed him to be. He’d spent the entire time between her call and leaving the apartment doing what Gladys called gussying. His plan wouldn’t work unless he dressed the part: faded jeans with a frayed hole in one knee, plaid shirt with a half-torn pocket, scuffed biker boots, and a baseball cap worn backward.
She valued punctuality, so he showed up ten minutes late.
She hated it when people rang the bell repeatedly, so he leaned on it for all he was worth.
As if on cue, the deep-green-painted door swung inward, and he stepped inside before she had a chance to ask him to.
“How was traffic?”
“It’s Baltimore. What more can I say?”
Maleah went from gnawing her lower lip to plucking at her cuticles, sure signs he’d made her nervous. Ian didn’t like seeing her this way—didn’t like being the cause of her distress, either.
But, as someone once said, “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”
“Nice place.” He walked into the living room. Would have swaggered, except it hurt to do that. “Been here long?”
“Couple of years.”
She started for the kitchen, and he followed before she could ask him to.
“I made iced tea and lemonade...”
Such a sweet, innocent face, but he couldn’t let it shake his resolve.
“How about half and half.”
He noticed the pizza box in the middle of the table. “How long has it been here?”
“You probably ran into the delivery boy on your way up the walk.”
So he couldn’t complain about hating cold pizza... Maybe the tea or lemonade would be too sweet. Or not sweet enough.
Their fingers touched when she handed him the glass, and Maleah pulled back as if stuck by a pin. He hated doing this to her.
It has to be done...
But did he have the stomach for it?
If you want to end this, you’ll have to develop one.
She poured her own drink. “Wish I looked half as well-rested.”
“Amazing what a clear conscience will do for a body.”
He’d never heard napkins and paper plates hit the table with more force. And that face... Ian didn’t think he’d ever seen her this angry before. With any luck, it would all be over before the first slice of pizza left the box.
“I know what you’re doing, Ian.”
Impossible, he thought; he’d only figured it out a few hours ago, himself.
“But it won’t work. It takes two to argue.”
The lid of the pizza box creaked quietly when she opened it to help herself.
He sat across from her and took a piece. If she meant it, he’d have a fight of a different kind on his hands.
“How’s Cash?”
“Good. Almost brought him tonight.”
“You should have. He’s a great dog.”
Not only didn’t he have the stomach for this, as it turned out, Ian didn’t have the backbone, either. She was hurting, and he’d been the cause. Just get it out there, and get yourself out of here.
“So why am I here?”
Placing the pizza on her plate, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I need to apologize. First, because I was out of line the night of the snowstorm. Way out of line, not just with that ridiculous kiss—”
“Ridiculous?” He blew a two-note whistle. “Maybe I’m the one who should apologize. As I remember it, I gave as good as I got.”
A bright pink flush colored her cheeks. “I’m not talking about the kiss itself. I’m talking about the way I... Let’s just say it wasn’t my most ladylike moment.”
“Another way men and women are different. In my opinion, you were never more woman.”
The blush deepened as she said, “Well, still. It never should have happened.”
“Why?”
She opened her mouth only to clamp it shut again. “I didn’t thank you properly for everything you did that night.”
“There she goes again, seesawing like a campaigning politician.” He grinned to show he was teasing, but Maleah plowed onward.
“I can only imagine what i
t cost to hire Andy.”
“Maybe he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Ever think of that?”
“Oh, please. I never got to know him well, but he’s a businessman. It makes no fiscal sense that he’d fuel up a piece of equipment that size, expose it to wear and tear, without getting something in return.”
Ian shrugged, took a bite of his pizza. “Free lunch at the bistro?”
She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “So, thank you for what you did. It eased all of our minds knowing we could get out in an emergency.”
And sliding her thumb under the silver chain around her neck, Maleah freed the little white daisy he’d given her that night.
“Thanks for this, too. It was a sweet, thoughtful gift.”
“Was...”
“My attitude took the shine off it. And I’m sorry about that, too.”
“It’s real silver. So it shouldn’t lose its shine...”
“Ian, come on. Meet me halfway, at least.”
“Okay. I’ll accept your apologies...if you’ll accept mine.”
Genuine surprise widened her eyes. “But you didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, yeah, I did. I robbed a store.”
“That wasn’t you. It was the other guys.”
“I knew what was going down, and did nothing to stop it. That’s caused trouble between you and your family since day one. I robbed you, too, that night, of your ability to trust in anyone, least of all your choices in men.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Then why is a woman as wonderful as you still single?”
Whether Maleah hung her head because she agreed that he was largely responsible for her marital status, or because, like him, she’d held tight to a hope that could never be fulfilled.
“If I hadn’t been such a fool, we’d be married now. We’d have a couple kids. Maybe Cash would, too.”
That, at least, produced the hint of a smile on her face, and eased his guilt.
But he hadn’t come here to make either of them feel good. The sole reason he’d accepted her invitation had been to say goodbye. Not in the literal sense, because some of their charity work would still overlap. But the love that had bonded them one to the other...