Amazing how important it felt now to correct her daughter’s misperceptions, when she’d suffered under the same ideas herself for so many years.
“Tiffany Winthrop is the littlest girl in the class, and the prettiest, too. She teases me about being the biggest.” Lauren studied the floor as if something very interesting was down there.
Hot anger rose in Fiona and she took a couple of breaths, then scooted over on the porch swing and put an arm around Lauren. “I’m sorry that’s happening. It can’t feel good.”
“It doesn’t. And now some of the other kids are saying it, too, and I’m afraid I won’t have any friends.” She looked up at Fiona. “Do you think I could go on a diet?”
Fiona swallowed a knot in her throat and tightened her arm around her daughter. “No way. You eat a normal amount, and you’re a normal size. That’s healthy.” She focused on what Lauren had said, thought of how important Susan and Daisy were in her own life. “Let’s think of all the good friends you have.”
“Well, there’s Dana. She’s my best friend.”
“I like Dana.” And Fiona resolved to invite the girl over within the next week. “Who else?”
“Valerie and Danica and Annalisa and Beth. We all sit together at lunch.”
“And they all came to your birthday party last year. They seem to really like you.”
“And Sofia. She’s not in my class, but we’re friends at soccer. And at home.” Lauren’s face was brightening. “And David. He’s a boy, but he’s nice and fun. And he’s a lot taller than I am.”
“Boys can be good friends, too.”
“He yelled at the boys who were teasing me. And Annalisa told the teacher.”
Where had she been while her eldest was going through mean-girl misery? “I’m sorry all this has been happening. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d get upset and talk to the school,” Lauren said truthfully. “And anyway, you have to stay in bed.”
Bad mother. Bad mother. The usual negative voices rose inside her, but alongside them, there was a core of strength that told her to look at the whole situation before she blamed herself.
Lauren and her friends were handling the name-calling. And Lauren was telling Fiona all about it now.
“You have some really good friends, it sounds like. Did you speak up to Tiffany when she said mean things?”
Lauren looked down again. “Yeah, but...”
“But what, honey?” She stroked Lauren’s hair gently.
“I said mean things back to her. I called her a pip-squeak and I teased her about her bad grades.”
Fiona nodded, watching emotions play across Lauren’s face. Let her think it through.
“What should I do, Mom?”
“Would you feel better if you apologized?”
Barely, almost imperceptibly, Lauren nodded.
“Tomorrow?”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Good.” Fiona squeezed Lauren’s shoulders again. “And I think it’s time you started having more sleepovers. You and your friends are big enough to clean up after yourselves and fix your own snacks. Would you like to have two or three girls over? Not this week, since it’s going to be Easter, but maybe next?”
“I’d love that!” Lauren hugged Fiona. “Can we make s’mores?” Then her face fell. “Oh, wait, are they fattening?”
Fiona took a breath. “Do you care? Since you’re a normal weight and treats are part of good healthy eating?”
“We could have s’mores and strawberries,” Lauren decided. “Okay?”
“Sure, as long as you share with the other kids.” She smiled at her thoughtful eldest daughter. “And me. I love strawberries and s’mores.”
“Can I go call the girls now?”
“Sure thing.” After Lauren ran inside the house, Fiona sat rocking and wondering whether she could take to heart her own wise words to her daughter.
* * *
“So what’s this I hear about a new girlfriend?” Sara, Eduardo’s sister-in-law, grinned at him and crushed her empty soda can before tossing it into the trash. They were sitting in Eduardo’s little kitchen, catching up on the latest news about each other, the kids and their relatives. Except for her short hair and boyish T-shirt and jeans, she looked almost exactly like Elizabeth. Seeing her always provoked a mixture of joy and sadness in Eduardo.
“No new girlfriend,” he said.
Sara raised an eyebrow. “Then who were you kissing on the street? Some random stranger?”
Eduardo let his head fall back against his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “How do you hear all the Rescue River gossip when you’re living in Toronto?”
“I have my sources.” She smiled. “And I want you to know that I think it’s time. Elizabeth would, too.”
“No.” He watched the ceiling fan blades going around. Was that a cobweb up there in the rafters? He’d have to get out a long-handled broom and get it down.
At the screen door, there was a scratching sound, and Sparkles stood up with a little lurch and made her way over. Outside, Brownie whined an invitation. Sparkles looked back over her shoulder at Eduardo, as if asking permission to go play.
He stood, glad for a reason to move away from Sara’s intensity, and opened the door. “Go ahead,” he said, running a hand along the dog’s bony back as she went out. Brownie lowered his front half into a play bow and barked, then dashed away, and Sparkles followed at a more sedate lope.
He returned to the kitchen table to find Sara looking at him steadily. “Why not start dating? You’re a normal man with normal feelings and needs. And those kids in there—” she gestured toward the living room, where Sofia and Diego had reluctantly gone to start their homework “—they would benefit from a woman’s influence, especially now. Sofia’s turning into a young lady.”
Maybe it was because of Fiona’s accident and his subsequent realization that he had fallen in love with her. Or maybe it was how much he missed talking to her. Something, at any rate, took away his usual filters. “Truth?” he said. “I’d like to date. And there’s someone I have in mind, yeah. But after what happened with Elizabeth—”
“You’re afraid of losing another wife?”
“I’m afraid of letting down another wife.” He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring at the floor. “You know all the troubles we had with insurance and doctors. If I’d had a better job, gotten her better care...” He trailed off and let out a sigh.
“Then what?” Sara asked gently.
“If I’d gotten better care for her, she might have survived.”
Sara didn’t say anything. What could she say?
After a minute, he hazarded a glance at her and saw that she was frowning and biting her lip.
“What?” he asked. “You can say it.” He waited for the recriminations he’d always expected but had never received from Elizabeth’s closest sister.
“I really shouldn’t,” she said. “But...” She looked away.
Diego came and knocked on the kitchen door frame. “Can Aunt Sara come play with us now?”
“In a minute, chico,” she said. She got up and handed him two cookies from the plastic container she’d brought. “One for you and one for your sister,” Sara said and ruffled his hair. For a minute, she looked so much like Elizabeth that Eduardo’s throat tightened up.
But there was a surprising bit of happiness there, too. For once, he flashed on a memory of Elizabeth’s life, not her terrible death—a time when she’d mussed up Sofia’s hair in the exact same way, before she’d gotten sick.
“Thanks, Aunt Sara.” Diego clearly didn’t have any such complicated reaction. He just hugged her hard and then ran into the other room.
Sara turned back to Eduardo, leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “I’m going to tell you somethi
ng I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
“About Elizabeth?”
She nodded. “I think you need to hear it. And I think Elizabeth would agree, if she knew how much you’re beating yourself up.”
He should tell her not to break Elizabeth’s confidence, but the chance to hear something new about his wife was too intriguing. “Go on.”
Sara drew in a breath and let it out in a big sigh. “She knew she was terminal from the very beginning.”
Eduardo frowned, shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”
Sara walked over and sat down across the table from him. “She just didn’t want you and the kids to know.”
“But the doctors never told me—”
“She didn’t give permission,” Sara said. “Medical records are private.”
“She wouldn’t have lied to me.” Heat rose in him. He looked out the window and then back at Sara. “Would she?”
Sara reached out and clasped his hand. “Only if she thought it was the best for you. She knew how hard you’d take it. She knew you needed to fight.”
Eduardo shook his head, trying to sort out the conflicting information. All the months of trying so hard to get her the best healthiest food, to enroll her in clinical trials, to research alternative treatments... Elizabeth had known it wasn’t going to work, and she’d let him do it?
Painful anger battered at his heart. “But she told you? You, and not me?”
Sara sighed. “She had to talk to someone. I was the only person she told, and she made me promise not to tell you.” She looked heavenward. “I’m sorry, mi hermana, but I have to break that promise. He needs to know.”
“She couldn’t talk to her own husband?”
Sara shook her head, shrugged and lifted her hands, palms up. “Some things you can only tell a sister. But the point is, Eduardo, you’re not at fault for some imagined mistake you made in providing care for her. She wasn’t going to beat her cancer.”
She wasn’t going to beat her cancer. She hadn’t beat it. And she’d known she wouldn’t from the beginning.
“Daddy,” came Sofia’s wheedling voice from the doorway, “can I go out and play with Lauren? I got almost all my homework done. And she said she needs to talk to me.”
“Sure. Go. Your brother can go out, too.” Normally, he would’ve looked into her claim further before letting her go, but he was still reeling from Sara’s revelation.
After Sofia and Diego were outside, he scraped a hand across his face and looked at Sara. “How could Elizabeth have lied to me, even when she was so sick?”
She stood up instantly, came over and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “She agonized about it. Prayed about it. She didn’t want to lie to you, but she loved you so much and she truly thought it was what would help you get through.” She released him and sat back down. “For the record, I thought she should tell you the truth. But she felt like it was the last gift she could give you and the kids. Hope.”
He shook his head. “Wow.”
“She loved you so much. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” But processing what his sister-in-law had told him might take some time.
Sara hopped up and tugged at his hand. “Come on. Let’s sit outside and watch the kids play and talk about something else. I’ve only got an hour before I have to get back on the road for my rally, and I want to take some pictures of those beautiful kids.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He stood up and forced his attention out of the past and into the present, this sunny day, the opportunity for his kids to see the aunt they loved.
“Who’s the older lady talking to Sofia and her friend?” Sara asked from the doorway. “They look like they’re plotting something.”
Eduardo glanced out the window. “That’s Lou Ann Miller. She babysits for a lot of the kids in town when she can find the time between her athletics and her coursework.” And she was helping Fiona while she recovered from her concussion. As he should have been doing, if he were more of a friend than a coward.
“Impressive. She’s no spring chicken.” Sara was still looking out the screen door. “FYI, it looks like Diego and another boy his age are getting involved in the plotting. You’re probably going to be asked to spring for pizza, at the very least.”
But as it turned out, the plot wasn’t anything to do with pizza.
Chapter Eleven
Fiona sighed and stretched and looked at her watch. Cleveland’s Gribshaw House Bed-and-Breakfast was beautiful, and she’d gotten lots of rest, but she didn’t like being away from her children for more than twenty-four hours.
She shouldn’t complain. The group of elders from the Senior Towers had been lovely to go together and get her this escape, all because they’d heard from Lou Ann that it was hard for her to rest when she was at home with four kids. What they didn’t understand was that she didn’t want to rest anymore. She felt fine. She wanted to go about her normal activities, cook and garden and take care of her children.
Even though the doctors said she should still take it easy, she was ready to jump into her life again.
She carried her overnight bag downstairs and said goodbye to Mrs. Gribshaw, the proprietor, who’d been very kind...and extremely interested in everything about Fiona.
“You get help with those four children, you hear? Don’t let them run all over you. When my kids were young, I traded mornings with my neighbor so I could get things done. You should try that.”
“What a good idea,” Fiona said. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. You ought to think about eating more for breakfast, too, dear. There’s nothing like a good breakfast to get you started in the morning. Gives you energy and pep. It’s the most important meal of the day!”
“You’re right,” Fiona said, “and the breakfast was delicious.” And massive. There had been only a few guests in the B and B last night, but Mrs. Gribshaw seemed to have cooked for a battalion. In point of fact, Fiona had eaten a big plate of eggs, bacon, toast and fruit for brunch and still felt full even though it was midafternoon. “Thank you again. I’d better get outside. My friend Susan is picking me up, and she’s always in a hurry.”
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Gribshaw said, a broad smile creasing her friendly face.
Fiona escaped into the cool morning air to the garden that surrounded the B and B. The treetops were filled with birdsong, and green hedges sat on either side of benches and along flagstone paths, and the flower beds were overflowing with what seemed like hundreds of daffodils.
She sank down onto a stone bench and lifted her face to the sunshine and thanked God, again, for all His blessings: health and safety for herself and her children; friends who cared enough to provide her with a vacation day; and a beautiful, natural oasis in the midst of a bustling city.
“Fiona?”
The familiar voice sounded a little disbelieving.
“Eduardo?” She turned, and there he was, framed in the arbor-style gateway to the garden. Involuntarily, she stood and walked toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Were the Senior Matchmakers involved in your being here?”
“Yes, they were,” she said slowly. “They raised money for me to have a night off from mothering. I got a lot of rest last night, and it was great, but...Susan was supposed to come and pick me up today.”
“And I was supposed to be picking up Susan here, because she was stranded.”
Mrs. Gribshaw hurried out. “Oh, mercy, he’s just as handsome as the ladies told me he’d be. Dear me, but I had a hard time keeping this a secret. Here. I was to give this to you when your ride arrived.” She held out a small gift bag to Fiona.
“What?” Fiona took the bag and stared at it, then at Mrs. Gribshaw, then Eduardo. “Who gave you this?
”
“A whole carload of senior citizens from your small town. My, what fun they were having!” She looked a little wistful. And then she clapped a hand to her forehead. “And they specifically told me to leave you two alone while you opened it. Enjoy yourselves! Come back again soon!” She turned and practically scurried into the guesthouse.
Fiona watched her go and then looked at Eduardo, who was shaking his head.
“You’d better open it,” he said, his voice resigned.
She did. “It’s a gift card for dinner out at... Let’s see. Ever heard of Bocca Felice in Little Italy?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Sure have. It’s one of the best Italian restaurants in Cleveland. Is there a card?”
She took it out and read aloud, “‘All of your kids are safe and happy with Lou Ann, Susan and Daisy. They’ll be sound asleep when you get home. Enjoy a lovely evening.’” She looked at him helplessly. “What should we do?”
He shrugged. “Use it, I guess.” He reached out for her overnight bag. “We’ll put your bag in the car, and...” He checked the time on his phone. “It’s a little early for dinner. Do you feel like walking?”
She was rapidly shedding her eagerness to get home in the face of spending time with Eduardo, even if it was togetherness forced by interfering friends. “I’d love to walk off Mrs. Gribshaw’s breakfast if we’re going to have a big Italian dinner.”
“How are your shoes?” he asked, and she held out her foot to display her eminently practical rubber-soled canvas slip-ons.
“We’ll drive over to this trail I know around the Lake View Cemetery. It’s right by Little Italy. Have you been there?”
She shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy at how this day was shaping up. “Actually, beyond a little shopping, I haven’t spent much time in Cleveland.”
“You haven’t seen the grave of the man who invented Salisbury steak?” he asked and held out a hand.“Come on. You’re in for a cultural experience.”
A wave of warmth toward him washed over her. He was such a good sport, and so much fun. But was he just being kind? His day had been just as disrupted as hers had been. “Don’t you have to work?”
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