by Reggi Allder
Chapter 18
Today was Grandfather’s day at Bobby’s school. Amy had already taken him to the school bus and now rushed to be ready on time when the luncheon event started. She hadn’t been contacted by Mr. Cameron since the night he came to see them and stayed for dinner. It appeared he didn’t need their help anymore so didn’t call them. After all, he drove the truck without aid that night, though he walked with a limp and he was in some discomfort. Could he be counted on to show at school today?
Last night Wyatt had tried to let Bobby understand his father was a busy man who sometimes made arrangements, even if he might not attend. However, her son had been adamant Granddad would show.
She wanted to protect Bobby from disappointment, still maybe learning to accept small dissatisfactions was important in a young boy’s life. She crossed her fingers. Couldn’t the man consider someone else’s feelings even once?
The red truck rumbled up the driveway as she was leaving the house. Mr. Cameron exited the GMC and walked toward her.
“I didn’t know where the school was so I came here. Figured we could ride together.” Dressed in new blue jeans and a white dress shirt, with a clean-shaven face, the man looked more like Wyatt than she’d ever seen him. He grabbed a cane with a fancy silver horse’s head on top and maneuvered with care to Volvo’s passenger door.
“Thanks for coming Mr. Cameron.”
“By the way, my name is William. Most people call me Bill.”
“Thanks, Bill. I’ll get you right back as soon as the lunch is over. I put food in the car for Bobby and his class and for us of course. You know he can’t have a lot of different food.” She talked too fast and explained more than necessary. Nerves, she guessed. Calm down.
Without a response, he settled into the seat and yanked on the seat belt.
They drove in silence. At first, she had tried to making small talk, telling him each child would introduce the grandfather and he would say something about the job he used to do.” Of course, you don’t have to talk unless you want to.” When again he didn’t bother to reply, she took the hint and shut up.
Would he’d recognize her son in the midst of all the other boys in the school?
When they entered the classroom, Mr. Cameron waved and called, “Bobby” as soon as he saw him.
Her son grinned and ran to Bill and caught his hand. “I knew you’d be here, Grandpa. Mommy wasn’t sure. I was.”
Why did he take to Mr. Cameron? It was more that she could comprehend. Still, if Bobby was happy…
Amy left the two of them and took the rice and hot dog casserole, with green beans to a table arranged for the luncheon. She jogged to the sedan for the gluten free cookies Klaus the baker made, plus her apple pie and juice.
“Why was she anxious. The man showed up as promised. It surprised her and Wyatt would be shocked when he found out.
Just before the event was about to start, she told Bobby his grandfather’s name.
When it was her son’s turn to introduce his relative and he stood up and said, “This is my grandpa, Bill, a geologist.” He paused and grinned.
She didn’t know the man’s profession. Bill must have told Bobby.
“Grandpa went all over the world discovering oil,” Bobby said and then sat down.
Mr. Cameron stood and balanced by holding onto his cane, then told a story with Dromedary camels, hot sands and high winds.
The kids seemed enthralled and applauded loudly when he finished.
Well, I’ll be darned. The man can be charming; she wouldn’t have believed it possible. The guy had a college degree and was a world traveler, even if it was to oil towns from the middle east to South America. No wonder he wasn’t good at being tied down. Still, he’d taken Wes with him.
Don’t go there.
After lunch Bobby waved to Mr. Cameron as they drove out of the school’s circular driveway. The man was silent and didn’t speak the rest of the trip. At least he showed up and Bobby was pleased.
***
“You don’t say.” Wyatt shook his head. “Can’t believe my dad came to school today.” He sat on the couch in the farmhouse living room holding a mug of decaf coffee. “Bobby seemed exhausted tonight when I tucked him in bed. He could barely keep his eyes open while I read to him. He usually asks for another story.”
“The day was exhausting, but exciting. Bill made him a very happy boy. I was so worried he wouldn’t be there.” Amy curled up next to Wyatt. “Bobby would have been the only kid without a granddad at the school if your father hadn’t showed.”
“I tried to get back in time, but got caught in traffic and a highway detour took me miles out of my way.”
“I understand. You did your best.” She kissed him quickly. “Thank goodness it worked out with Bill.”
“Hm.” He put his arm around her. “You smell good.”
“You too. All man.” She grinned. “I like being here with you, no storms, accidents, or problems.”
“Peace and quiet.” He sipped the coffee. “Don’t you think its’s time to try again for a weekend in San Francisco?”
“Do you think we could? Can you leave the circuit?”
“It’s all arranged. Sophie and Vanna will handle Bobby’s needs. This time nothing and no one is going to stops us. Pack a bag, we leave tomorrow.”
***
Amy opened the window of the little bed and breakfast on Knob Hill in San Francisco. A cool breeze from the air-conditioned city caressed her face. The Golden Gate Bridge spread out in front of her, a gem against the blue water. Soon the sun would set and urban lights would glow.
Months ago, she’d lived in the city, but was unable to afford a view. Her outlook had been the back wall of the next building and she recalled the clothesline that usually hung laden with tattered shirts and kid’s diapers in the small backyard. A dumpster lived in the alley and wafted its odor of fish and vegetable waste from the neighboring restaurant when she opened the window.
She turned from the panoramic view to enjoy the well-appointed room with plush carpeting, modern furniture and a king-size bed. Wyatt had chosen exactly what she’d dreamed of having.
He entered the room and stood behind her. “Nice view. Oh, yeah, the water and the bridge look good too.” He joked and nibbled on her ear.
All tension left her and she leaned back and enjoyed his masculine awareness of her.
He lifted her hair out of the way and continued to brush gentle kisses on her shoulder
“Ready for dinner? Tuscan?” he asked in between caresses.
She caught her breathe before answering, “Sounds perfect.”
He turned her around to face him and kissed her fully on the mouth, then said, “We can stay in if you’re not hungry.”
A starved look spread across his face, but not for nourishment, most likely it was mirrored her own expression. Before she answered, her stomach growled.
“Okay, you have spoken.” He grinned. “Food first and then…” With one last embrace, he released her. “By the way, I made a reservation at the little Tuscan eatery you’d mentioned. Want to check it out?”
“Sure. I’m flattered you remembered.” She reached for his rough hand and squeezed it. “Thanks.”
“I recall everything you’ve ever said or done. Nothing about you do is forgettable—I’ll get a cab.”
***
Ristorante Tuscany, in North Beach, had a long history. Amy once read the family run business was started by the great grandparents in 1950 and the great grandchildren continued the recipes and kept the décor of their older relatives.
Wyatt held the door for Amy as she entered. The aroma of Ciabatta bread, tomato sauce, and Chianti made a pleasant combination. The narrow room had a bar on the right and tables on the left. The place buzzed with activity. Friday nights always ensured the place would be overrun with customers. Sounds of pots clanging and the laughter of patrons reverberated off the brick walls. Candles flickered on white linen covered tables.
&
nbsp; “Mr. Cameron, I have a beautiful table for you. In the back, away from all the noise,” the maître d yelled.
As they followed, she detected the nods of men and women to Wyatt as he passed their tables. Even in this cosmopolitan metropolis people recognized him.
They slid into a booth facing out toward the room, sitting close enough to touch. This part of the restaurant had a different vibe and was definitely more relaxing because of fewer people. The big table next to them had a reserved sign. The man told them a large party was coming after their conference ended. He lit the candle in a glass holder in the center of the table. “You’ll most likely be gone by then so, for now you have the area pretty much to yourself.”
Before the man left, Wyatt ordered a bottle of chianti for them as they had discussed.
She leaned against the upholstered bench. “This is just how I imagined it would be. Completely romantic, I can hear the Italian folk music from the speaker.” She put her hand on his knee under the table. “I’m glad you suggested we take a couple of days off.”
“I think we needed a vacation. I know I did.”
A different male waiter, in slacks and a dress shirt, brought the wine and a basket of sliced Ciabatta bread and butter, then took their orders.
A difficult decision, she settled on pollo con funghi con vino blanco. Wyatt ordered Salmon and potato dumplings in a light cream sauce.
“Salute.” He held up his glass. “Here’s to us.”
They clinked glasses and she sighed with pleasure when she took her first sip. “I don’t usually drink, but this is a special occasion.”
“Enjoy,” he said as he stretched his strong arm over her shoulders and she rested in his embrace.
For a short while they didn’t speak. She savored the moment. It had taken many stressful events to achieve this point in their relationship. They deserved some down time.
Though she didn’t know the title of the song playing, she recognized the melody and softly hummed along.
An antipasto of cured meat and various cheeses went well with the wine, but she stopped eating to leave room for the main course. Wyatt had no problem clearing the serving plate.
When her glass was half empty he refilled it, and smiled.
As they ate, he freely talked about his plans to remodel the aging farmhouse. “I’d do the work, with your input and permission of course. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to have a family room off the kitchen.” He paused. “A place where Bobby and his friends could play. Later when the babies come, we could watch them while we cook and clean up.”
She tensed, but didn’t respond. Wyatt seemed unaware she considered the topic of more children closed. She’d explained it was not going to happen. Why didn’t he understand? She moved out of his arms. Just then the waiter brought their meal.
“Looks wonderful,” she said hoping her annoyance didn’t show. With her fork in hand, she glanced at her plate. The chicken and mushrooms with local organic fresh vegetables was creatively displayed including a garnish of parsley and yellow and orange nasturtiums. She pulled out her phone and took a photo before she had her first bite. She might blog about this meal someday.
Wyatt had already dug into his potato dumplings and she saw his fish was embellished with red hibiscus.
To her relief, the subject changed to food and travel. He told stories about the best and worst meals he’d eaten while on the circuit. His description so vivid she couldn’t help laughing. He teased her about where they’d go on their honeymoon, increasing her anticipation.
She ate more than necessary. Still, much of her meal was on the square white plate. “The portions are too large, you’ll have to finish for me, Wyatt.”
“Not a problem.” He grinned.
She took the last drop of wine from her glass and sighed.
“Ok, what’s for dessert?” Wyatt asked.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. As I remember there’s Tiramisu or vanilla gelato covered in a hazelnut shell. Of course, chocolate mousse cake is tempting.” He paused. “You have something else in mind?”
“OMG, what’s this going to cost?”
“Remember the deal we made?” His expression was stern, but she noted a twinkle in his eye. “Tonight, the price doesn’t matter. We choose whatever want.”
Soon a giant chunk of Tiramisu was delivered with two forks. Two hot cups of Venetian coffee accompanied the dessert.
“Heaven.” Amy wiped custard from her lips. “You’ll have to do your duty and eat the rest.” She poured cream into her coffee and sipped. “I can’t imagine a better dinner.”
With no reason to hurry, they lingered.
Finally, he called a taxi to take them to their B &B.
***
While Wyatt unlocked their room, Amy recalled the candlelight feast they’d shared. “Dinner was amazing, and the dessert, yummy.” She licked her lips.
He kissed her. She pressed against him as desire rippled through her. Their tongues flirted while she opened the buttons of his shirt. She slowly ran her hand over his taut muscled chest and his body warmed to her touch. “Wyatt, you’re wonderful.”
He scooped her up into his arms, pushed open the entry with his foot, carried her across the threshold, then kicked the door closed. Instead of setting her down, he took her to the king-sized bed, ripped back the bed sheet and comforter and gently set her down.
He threw off his boots and lay next to her. “I love you,” he said before taking her mouth with his. Lost in his embrace, she moaned as desire became a necessity.
“Let’s make a baby together,” he whispered in her ear sending a shiver down her spine. “A beautiful girl with red hair like yours.”
She froze.
“Amy, what’s wrong?”
“If you want kids you’re marrying the wrong woman.” She pulled out of his arms. “Don’t you get it?” She sat up “I can’t have more kids. Why aren’t Bobby and I enough for you?”
“You are, but what’s wrong with making a bigger family? You’re unfair to your son not to have a sibling.” Wyatt rolled to a sitting position. “Bobby deserves a brother or a sister. Someone who’s always on his side. A person to listen when his parents don’t.” He stood and yanked on his boots.
“Oh, you mean like you and Wes?” she asked. “I see how well that worked out.”
“That’s a cheap shot.” He glared. “I didn’t think you’d sink that low—I need some air.”
He grabbed his boots and coat and the door slammed before she managed an answered.
Shocked, she slumped against the headboard and chocked back a sob. They’d shared the perfect date and now the night was ruined. Maybe she’d overreacted, but he’d understood Bobby would be their only child.
What should she do? Nothing came to mind. With their wedding pending, he might disappear forever. Why didn’t she keep her mouth shut? She had to speak. They couldn’t marry with a misunderstanding to start their marriage. No matter how many conversations they had to discuss celiac, it couldn’t be erased.
She adored Bobby and the idea of having Wyatt’s baby sent desire swirling in her. No, she wouldn’t knowingly bring another kid with celiac into the world, no matter how much she wanted to. Wyatt couldn’t change his need for more children and her DNA remained the same no matter how she felt.
Stalemate.
Midnight and Wyatt hadn’t returned. She got up and stared out of the window at the city lights. A storm brewed. He was there somewhere in the city or maybe already on his way back to Sierra Creek. She never imagined the night would end like this.
A jeweled city twinkled, shimmering through the growing wind. The most romantic city on the west coast. What did it matter now?
She sobbed.
Chapter 19
Wyatt took a deep breath to stop his anger. Disappointment for the loss of his unborn children threatened overwhelm him. He groaned and leaned against the lobby wall.
Yeah, he was aware of Amy’s feelings, b
ut he’d thought it was her insecurity and there’d be time to reconsider after they married. He grimaced and realized, for the first time, just how important having a baby with Amy was to him.
Outside of the B&B, he stood in the drizzle and barely noticed the weather was changing to rain. With no idea where to go, he walked to the street corner and turned right.
Headlights glared as vehicles whizzed by on the thoroughfare. They had a destination while he jogged aimlessly. Most of his life he’d known where life was headed, the rodeo and a good time. After Amy was in his life, family became the key motivator. Now what?
The storm increased and he sat alone in a covered bus stop. He pulled his hand through his damp hair and groaned. The bus had probably stopped running by now. No matter, he had nowhere to go. Shit.
Cold and forlorn, he watched showers fall from the gray San Francisco sky. A decision had to be made. He slumped and supported himself on the clear glass wall of the bus stop. Friends and family would understand if he left Amy. He wanted kids, so she was the wrong woman. She’d said as much.
The engagement broken, his old life waited. His single buddies would welcome him back to the group. Wes might like his company again.
He’d move to Sacramento and start over, never to see Amy again. He closed his eyes against that reality as pain jabbed him in the gut.
A patrol car drove around the block and then returned and parked in front of his shelter. One of the officers rolled down the vehicles passenger’s side window and yelled there wouldn’t be another bus until six in the morning. He thanked them and headed toward the bed and breakfast, his head down against the wind and rain.
He stomped the moisture from his feet and did what he could to dry off before entering the lobby. Not ready to face Amy, he took a newspaper, found a chair, and pretended to read.
If he stayed with her, there’d be only the three of them to form a family. Was that enough? He exhaled. Love for her flowed in his veins like molten lava. Though they hadn’t taken their vows in church, in his heart the promise to her was complete. He stifled a groan and sat unmoving.
***