Understand and have sympathy for your fellow man. He wanted Vivian to understand why he was so upset over her actions in Las Vegas—even if she hadn’t actually cheated. She needed to see why the person responsible for the Sisyphean task of keeping cheating out of the city of Chicago couldn’t be living with a woman who’d been one second away from cheating herself.
If you can’t bring yourself to understand why she might have done what she did, you can’t expect her to understand you. The truth of that statement was as uncomfortable in his mind as the kneeler was on his knees.
When Mass was over and he’d greeted the priest and several other parishioners he knew, Karl stepped out into the grey Chicago winter and checked the text message on his phone.
Working the lunch shift at Healthy Food. Your mom has been asking to see you. Be a good son.
What did Vivian know about being a good son? She was hiding from her father.
She’s hiding from her father because he asked her to violate her morals and she’s afraid she’ll say yes if she sees him again. You should support that. And you are hiding from your mother.
Forgiveness and understanding should be easier with the realization that he shared something in common with Vivian. And that she was right about being the good son. He got into his car and turned out of the parking lot toward his mother’s house.
Letting himself into his mother’s house and finding her sitting in an easy chair with a blanket wrapped around her and a pot of tea on the side table, Karl disagreed with his conscience. He wasn’t hiding from his mother—that would imply she could seek him out. He was avoiding seeing his mother’s pale face and the pills on the coffee table.
“Don’t look so scared. I just woke up from a nap.” The rosy-cheeked, robust woman who nagged him about running for mayor was gone, replaced by a stranger with sagging skin at her neck. When had his mom gotten old? “If you’d come to see me after one of my short walks with Vivian, you’d see I’m hale and hearty.”
He gave her a kiss on her dry cheek and sat on the couch. “You look fine, Mom. Better.”
“You’re lying, but you’re doing it more to comfort yourself than me, so I’ll forgive you.” She smiled indulgently at him. “It took you three days to come see me.”
“I’ve been busy.” God, those words sounded hollow while worrying he would knock over her pill bottles. He counted three. Were there more? “Is Vivian taking good care of you?”
“She’s a sweet girl.”
“We were here for dinner, and you didn’t like her at all.”
“I didn’t know you were having a baby.” His mom patted his knee. The last time someone had patted his knee had been the doctor at Vivian’s prenatal appointment—and before that it had been years. At least his mom’s wasn’t a pity pat. “She’s caring and patient. Good at managing me without seeming like she is. She’ll be a good mom to my grandbaby.”
Vivian could have horns and spit fire, and his mom would still love her because she was providing the grandchild. His sister Renia’s daughter, Ashley, had been given up for adoption. And even though Ashley had gotten back in contact with Renia, an eighteen-year-old girl two states away wasn’t the same as a newborn his mom could coo over. His mom was excited to have Ashley back in contact with the family, but Karl thought it only reminded her how much she wanted to be surrounded by grandkids. Not to mention she was still looking for someone to take over Healthy Food one day. Tilly wouldn’t do it; a grandchild might, eventually.
“Which sister spilled?”
“Vivian told me. She said everyone else knew, so I might as well. I don’t know why you were keeping it a secret.”
Because Vivian wanted to, and I still wanted it to be a dream. Not wanting to change the past wasn’t the same thing as looking forward to the future. “It’s bad luck to tell people before the third month.”
“Edward says she’s doing really well at Healthy Food. The neighborhood is excited your wife is working there and she took to the register and hosting really naturally.”
She took to the register really naturally....
No, Karl stopped himself from thinking that. Vivian was doing the family a favor. He could be gracious and take her at her word that she hadn’t actually cheated. She was carrying his child. They both shared the responsibility; he didn’t have to be an ass, not even in his thoughts.
“Would you like me to get you some more hot water for your tea?”
“Are you staying?” He couldn’t blame her for the doubt in her voice. He came for family dinners, but hadn’t been in the habit of just dropping by to chat.
“Sure. I’ll stay, at least until Vivian gets back from Healthy Food.” The work he had to review wasn’t going anywhere. His mom had just had a heart attack. He could spend the afternoon with her. “I’ll even fix us lunch.”
“Vivian put a list of good post–heart attack food on the fridge. None of it is kielbasa and pierogies, but what she’s fixed so far hasn’t been terrible.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WITH CAREFUL PLANNING, Vivian had managed to avoid Karl and the accusatory set of his jaw recently. Texting served as their primary means of communication, and he only visited his mom when the house was otherwise empty. As far as visits from her son were concerned, for Mrs. Milek (“Call me Susan, you’re going to be the mother of my grandchild”), her heart attack had been a stroke—no pun intended—of good luck. Vivian had been under the impression that Karl was a dutiful son, only he seemed to have been just dutiful, nothing else. Now, instead of only visiting his mother for the expected Sunday dinner, Karl had taken to dropping in daily for tea and a chat.
Though she felt a little guilty thinking such a thing, Susan’s heart attack had been lucky for Vivian, as well. Instead of being at loose ends, Vivian had a job and a place to live—all without being a burden to a judgmental prig. She was being useful, and it felt good.
For the first two days Susan had been nice to her strictly because of the baby. Then Vivian lost to her at backgammon several times and taught her cribbage. Whatever problem Susan had had with her before the heart attack disappeared completely with the card games. They now played several games of cribbage almost every night before bed.
In their first game of the night, Susan dealt first. “Pawel, Karl’s father, and I used to play card games all the time, but of all my kids, only Leon enjoyed them. I miss sitting around a table like this.”
Vivian put down a four, a solid opening card. “I know more games.”
She had gotten a job dealing because she’d been playing cards all her life. Her father had tried to teach her how to count cards while they were playing Go Fish, but the concept had been beyond the thought processes of a five-year-old.
“Karl said you were a dealer in Las Vegas.” Susan put down an ace. “That’s where he met you.”
“I was a dealer. And he met me at a bar.” She put a ten on the table. “Fifteen, for two.” Vivian counted her two spaces on the board. “Remember, don’t make a five when we’re counting. There are too many tens in the deck and those are easy points.”
“Pawel always used to win at card games, too. But I could beat him at backgammon.” Susan had beat Vivian at five straight games of backgammon. “Though he would never play bridge with me.”
“Bridge was one game I was never able to get good at.” Vivian counted two points for a pair and one point for the “go,” then waited for Susan to put down another card. “My dad and I moved around too often to find a regular foursome, and it’s not really a Vegas game.”
Based on the cards she’d seen and what could be left in the deck, the only card Vivian had left would probably give Susan easy points.
“I have some girlfriends who I play with. You can take my place and I’ll teach you the tricks. Then you can teach us to count cards at blackjack for the next time we g
o to the casinos.” She laid down a card with a triumphant smile. “Fifteen-two and a run of three for a total of five.”
“Susan!”
“What?” Susan looked up. “I counted the points correctly.”
“Karl would be horrified if he knew I was teaching you to count cards.”
“My son is a dedicated public servant who believes in the importance of his work. He should also be more mindful of the mother of his child. If he doesn’t want you teaching me to count cards, he should pack you up and move you back into his apartment.”
Vivian counted up all the points in her hand and moved her peg on the board. “I’m here to take care of you and help out at Healthy Food.”
“That’s bull and we both know it. I’ve noticed he never comes to visit when you’re here.”
“It’s his schedule....” Vivian didn’t entirely know why she was defending Karl, but Susan was his mother, and just because family had to love you, warts and all, didn’t mean your warts needed to be gossiped about.
“Count this for me to make sure I got all of my points.”
Vivian counted up the points in Susan’s hand. “You got eight.”
“That’s what I counted.” She pegged her points. “Now back to my son. His father and I raised him with enough decency to provide you with health insurance and some money for that baby, but he shouldn’t have kicked you out of the apartment. Whatever you did.”
Vivian wasn’t sure whether the Milek family hadn’t told Susan about her out of kindness or because they thought Susan knew already. “I was fired from my job at a casino under suspicion of cheating. I’m in the black book and can’t get another job at a casino, ever again. Karl wants nothing to do with someone who cheated, even if only nearly.”
“I only got a pair.”
Vivian looked at the cards in Susan’s crib. “You also got the matching jack, so three points.”
Susan pegged her points before asking her question. “Did you cheat?”
“I thought about it.” Vivian collected all the cards and began to shuffle, the still-new cards slick in her hands.
“I loved Pawel with every bit of my soul, but I also thought about smacking him upside the head with a frying pan more than once.” Susan collected the cards Vivian dealt her and arranged them. Putting two cards in the crib, she said, “I don’t care what the Church says about thought being the same as action. They are not the same, and Karl shouldn’t punish you for something you didn’t do.”
Vivian added her two cards to the crib. There was a trick to building a cribbage crib. One option was to give yourself easy points, but leave little room for your opponent’s cards to give points. The other option was to give yourself cards that provided opportunity for—but didn’t guarantee—points. Despite all her father’s lessons, she usually went with option one. Pregnant, barely employed and a thousand miles from the apartment she’d called home for sixteen years, Vivian took a risk and put a seven and a nine in the crib. Not just no points, but pulling for an inside straight. I am living life in the fast lane, she thought with a smile.
“It’s fine, Susan. It really is. Ours is an accidental marriage and an accidental pregnancy. I know he won’t forsake the best interests of Jelly Bean, and that’s really all that’s important.” She turned over the top card when Susan cut the deck. The six wasn’t so good for her hand, but could help the crib out a bit.
“I don’t care how drunk he was, Karl never would’ve married a stranger unless he would’ve wanted to while sober.” Susan put down her first card. The ace on the table marginally improved the odds of what was in the crib.
“Two,” Vivian said, trying not to think about Karl wanting her, sober or not. If she didn’t think about it, then she didn’t miss him. Or miss him so much, she corrected herself. A girl could be spoiled by waking up to coffee on her nightstand every morning. “I hate to tell you this about your son, but he wasn’t even sober when I met him, so I don’t think that’s a good starting point to judge.”
“Run of three.” Susan pegged her three points with a gleeful smile on her face. “If he didn’t have feelings for you, he wouldn’t be working so hard to avoid you.”
Vivian looked down at the ace, two and three on the table, then back up at her mother-in-law. “You set me up for that.” And she’d fallen for it, even though she knew she shouldn’t have.
“I may only be learning about cribbage, but I’m right about my son.”
The lure of a stable family was too enticing, especially when she knew it couldn’t happen. Her past and Karl’s stringency was too big a wall standing in the way of a happy-family future. “Did I tell you that the Biadałas came into Healthy Food on Monday?”
Susan raised an eyebrow, but allowed the change in subject. “What’s Sharon’s latest diet?”
Happy not to be thinking about Karl, and a baby and a future that wasn’t going to turn out the way she wanted—as if futures ever did—Vivian shared the latest restaurant gossip with Susan until they’d finished their game and it was time to go to bed.
* * *
HEALTHY FOOD’S NEON Open sign blazed through the dark winter night as Karl walked up to the door and inside, expecting to shake hands with various people—as happened every time he entered his mother’s restaurant. Not a soul greeted him, but there was a crowd of people surrounding Vivian and his mother at the cash register. Father Ramirez and Mrs. Czaja were welcoming his mom back to work, but the other customers hovered around Vivian. Mr. Czaja even appeared to be flirting with Karl’s wife.
Not that he blamed the man. Amidst the crowd of Poles, Vivian was noticeable—and not just because she wasn’t Polish. Her entire body buzzed with joy, and her face glowed. And then there was her outfit. He’d been trying to get his mother to change the Healthy Food uniforms for years and Vivian wearing one gave him more ammunition against the ridiculous things. On most of his mother’s waitresses, the flowered, puffy, butt-skimming skirts, green T-shirts and black half aprons looked absurd. On Vivian, the teenybopper uniform made her look a plaid pattern away from a woman dressing up for her lover’s Catholic schoolgirl fantasy.
No wonder Mr. Czaja was flirting with her, even with his wife standing four feet away. The true astonishment was that Karl didn’t have to peel more men away from his wife to approach the register.
“Karl,” Vivian said with a wide smile that brought a bit of pink to her apple cheeks. “It’s your mom’s first day back at work.” She pushed a plate across the counter to him. “She made these tasty doughnuts for the occasion.”
“Pᶏczki.” He bit into one of the Polish doughnuts traditionally eaten before Ash Wednesday, hoping it was filled with plum and not with rose hip jam. Bright sweetness and rich, eggy bread flooded his mouth. Strawberry filling. Not his favorite, but a pleasant surprise. “Enjoy the treat. Tomorrow Healthy Food will serve nothing but herring and potatoes.”
“There are powidła pᶏczki in the back for you to take home. And some for the office, as well,” his mom said from behind him. “I was going to ask your wife to drive them up to you.” Turning to Vivian, she said, “The powidła—plum ones—are his favorite.”
“Welcome back to work, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around his mother, who smiled up at him. He felt such relief at seeing her pink face. And the power behind the hug she gave him actually caused him physical pain, but the hurt was welcome. He was so happy to see her looking healthy that he was willing to overlook her machinations.
“It’s good to be back. I missed all the hustle and bustle.”
“You’re not tiring yourself out, are you?” She looked so much better than when he’d first seen her after her heart attack, but the thought of being an orphan still caused heart-seizing panic.
“No. I’m only working half days for a week or so. Then I’ll be back to my regular schedule.”
“A
re you sure it’s not too much?” As he followed her to the kitchen doors, he noted the certainty of each step she took and kept his eye out for any hesitation in her walk or weakness when she pushed through the swinging doors. His mother looked nothing but robust. Was it hope or health he was seeing?
She shoved the sack of frozen doughnuts she’d grabbed from right inside the kitchen door into his hands. “Vivian has been a big help. After your grandmother died, I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else sitting in her place at the register, so I didn’t replace her. I should have. Managing the restaurant and the kitchen, working the register and hosting—it all got to be too much. It’ll be better now.”
Karl looked back at Vivian, who had added Father Ramirez and Mrs. Czaja to her circle. Whatever she was saying to them made Mrs. Czaja giggle and grab hold of her husband’s arm. Vivian looked as though she’d been a part of the Archer Heights community for years, not just a couple of weeks.
“She’s not a permanent solution, Mom.”
“I thought I raised you better than to be one of those husbands who didn’t want their wives to work after they had children. It should be a family decision.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to live in Chicago.” The thought of Vivian moving away gave him heartburn, even without wondering what would happen to their child. But she had no ties other than him in Chicago, and before their night of near lovemaking they’d bandied the word divorce between them like kids playing an easy game of catch. In truth, he knew that night of near lovemaking had changed the tone of their relationship to something softer. Something that might tie them together, not simply for the sake of the child, but for the sake of each other.
Then he’d found out why she had been fired and hurled the word divorce at her like he was a major league pitcher and she was still playing T-ball. When he’d said it, he’d made it ugly, rather than matter-of-fact. Not to mention the accusations he’d heaped upon her in front of his family. If she gave birth, arranged visitation rights with the baby and then headed off to Alaska, he wouldn’t be surprised.
Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore Page 42