Finding Mr. Romantic

by Betty Jo Schuler

  "That's good, huh?"

  C.J. shrugged. “For golf, he paired her up with his brother, Paul. Dell's buddy."

  Nick's arm froze in mid-air. Paint dribbled down his arm. Susan had done it again, shot him down. Dell told Paul something that he told Susan who reported it to C.J. Of course, she made it into a negative, but what was it? “I met Paul at the party for the first time."

  "I missed you after you left last night.” C.J. came into his arms and flattened herself against him.

  Whatever was bothering her, she wanted reassurance. He rubbed her back. “I didn't want to leave. I want you night and day. I wish I didn't have to write nights, so I could hold you while you sleep, but I do have to work.

  She laid her face against his chest, and he brushed his lips across her hair. She sighed. “I know so little about you."

  This was the part of a relationship he'd always hated. “There's nothing important you don't know."

  She pulled away. “Did you invent ‘Today I Am’ because there were things you didn't want me to know?"

  Anger flickered through his body. “You know why I suggested it, but I admit I don't think exchanging family histories and hobbies and favorite foods is important to a relationship. What's this all about, C.J.?"

  "You've never talked about your life or your mother, and you lied about your work. Susan says I'm just a fling."

  She looked up at him with lustrous eyes, and Nick sighed. He'd hoped other people had forgotten the desertion. “My mother left so long ago I barely remember her, but I remember how much it hurt, and I would never deliberately hurt anyone the same way. Not telling something isn't lying, and if you recall, it was because of Susan you left me."

  He drew C.J.'s class ring out of his pocket and laid it on his open palm. “I found this that same day and I've carried it in my pocket ever since. Why? Because you mean so much to me. Tell that to little Suzy for me, will you?"

  * * * *

  CEE FELT AS if she had wings. Nick had dispelled the seeds of fear she'd let Susan plant. He cared about her, and she cared about him. Every day was fun, whether they painted, made love, or rode through the countryside like they were today. Her freshly cut hair fluttered in the breeze from the open windows of her MG.

  "I thought you preferred the air conditioner,” he said, from the driver's seat.

  "I did, but this feels so free.” Cee patted his leg. His faded denim jeans were soft, but he usually wore shorts and she missed the feel of his sun-warmed skin. The shirt he wore was the blue chambray that matched his eyes, the one he wore the night he borrowed wine. Summer was going by too fast.

  "You've come a long way, babe.” He grinned as he wheeled into the post office parking lot. They'd driven into Ridgefield so he could mail some chapters of the book to his publisher. She'd begged to know the title, but it didn't have one yet, and he was tightlipped about the plot. “Authors are superstitious about that sort of thing."

  She waited in the car, head back, eyes closed, while he went inside. She tried to keep “Nick's platitudes” in mind and take one day at a time. But in moments of quiet like this, Susan's wedding and his leaving pushed into her consciousness, troubling and saddening her. She had eight weeks to change Susan's mind or finish planning the wedding. She had just over three weeks left with Nick. So little time, with a man who meant so much. Why couldn't he stay in the carriage house and work there?

  He smacked the hood of the car, grinned, and hopped in to plant a kiss on her lips. Whistling, he drove the few blocks downtown and parked in another lot. “It's been a while since I strolled the streets of my hometown."

  Ridgefield was twice the size of Montclair, and the department store window displays were fantastic. A plum satin sheath caught Cee's attention. “Does that look suitable for the stand-in mother of a bride?"

  Nick shook his head. “It's too matronly. Now that...” Her hand in his, he gestured toward a dress in the next window. “Is better."

  A short silk dress with a tiny beaded jacket, it was gorgeous, and she said so, adding regretfully, “Even if I'm unhappy about the wedding, I don't think it's appropriate to wear black."

  They continued down the street past a hardware store, frame shop, and dry cleaners. “See that?” He again gestured with their clasped hands. Cee raised her eyes to a tall pinkish-colored building. “Twelfth floor is where I grew up. My dad still lives there."

  "I wouldn't have taken you for an apartment dweller. Nor your father, considering his profession."

  "Let me show you why.” Nick led her a block past the apartment complex where he pointed out a building on the other side of the street. A two-story made of pine, a sign hung out front: Dennis Rustic Homes. Yesterday's Charm. Today's Convenience.

  So they were meeting his father, and that's why Nick hadn't worn shorts.

  "He likes living close to his second home. Or maybe I should say his first, since that's where he spends most of his waking hours."

  Patting her hair with one hand, Celeste tucked her blouse more firmly into her shorts with the other. Satisfied she looked neat enough, she turned around to see ... Nick, walking away.

  * * * *

  NICK STOPPED C.J.'S car at a little Amish store he remembered, tucked in the hills outside Ridgefield. It was off the beaten path but boasted the best bread and cheese around. She'd never been there and walked about, inhaling aromas and touching simple handicrafts, her eyes shining like a child's. After making his purchases, he leaned against the wall and took pleasure in watching her browse.

  He'd decided at the last minute it wouldn't be smart to introduce her to his father. He'd like C.J., anyone would, and the last thing Nick needed was Dad nagging him to marry and give him grandkids. He gave him enough grief, wanting him to get a real job and move into a real house. Working his way across country and around the world and settling down to write books that sold well didn't count. Dennis Rustic Homes and a house in the Midwest were the end-all-be-all to Bart Dennis.

  C.J. waved to Nick from the checkout counter, and he moved to the doorway to wait for her. She'd bought a bag of homemade noodles, a cornhusk wreath for Susan as a joke, and an Amish doll made of wood with black and white cotton garments. In the traditional Amish manner, the woman's face was devoid of features.

  Back at the house, C.J. set her doll on top the sponge-painted cabinet and stood back to admire it. “I bought her because she seems to be a blank slate, capable of becoming anyone she wants to be.” She turned to cup his cheek in her hand. “You've helped me change, make new marks on my slate, and believe I can be whomever I choose."

  Nick hadn't wanted to change, but she'd changed him too. For better, or worse. He kissed her deeply and she responded in kind. He raised his head, she smiled, and he felt her love wash over him. Love. She loved him; he was almost sure of it. He tightened his arms around her. For better or worse. His heart beat against his chest like a fish beating against a net. Marriage wasn't in his vocabulary but she'd agreed to no commitments, so it might be safe to love her. Love. “You make me feel like I'm going down for the third time."

  "If I save you again, will I become more or less indebted?” Her eyes twinkled.

  "I love you.” He spoke the words he'd never spoken to a woman before. I love you. The words didn't sound or feel as foreign coming from his lips as he'd expected. “But you're not indebted to love me back."

  "Oh, but I do.” She didn't hesitate, and her smile was honey-sweet. “I love you, Nick."

  I love you, Nick. Words he hadn't heard since he was tiny and Georgia would say I love you, Nicky. He held C.J. tightly in his arms and felt the wild beating of her heart mingle with his. He believed she did, but would she always? He couldn't, wouldn't, ask her to commit. Nor could he turn back. Like the day he rode Moonstruck, he'd fought his fear and felt exhilarated but hoped C.J. wouldn't hurt him the way that mare had.

  * * * *

  "I CAN'T BREATHE, NICK.” Cee wasn't complaining but she felt so bubbly inside, she needed to talk. He'd
said the words she wanted to hear. She hadn't known how badly until he'd spoken them. “We've been kissing for hours."

  He looked up at the kitchen clock. “Ten minutes isn't long when it's the first time you've been in love."

  "You've never been in love before?” She melted back into his arms.

  The front door slammed. “I'm home."

  "Susan.” Cee planted her hands on Nick's chest and tried to move away.

  He gripped her waist. His eyes darkened like lake water before a storm. “I love you, Cee. Doesn't that change things?"

  A wave of fear made her feel faint. Did he think she would forsake the girl she was raising to become his personal property? “Wh ... what do you mean?"

  "We don't have to hide our feelings any more.” Nick lowered his lips to hers just as Susan walked through the kitchen door.

  * * * *

  NICK VAMOOSED SHORTLY after infuriating Susan, leaving Cee to face the music, which was little short of a death dirge. “How could you, Cee? I told you about him. I leave you alone and...” She threw an arm over her eyes dramatically. “I look forward to leaving Mark's mother and come home—to this."

  Cee waited for Susan to stop moaning. “I thought you liked his mother."

  "She's pushy and wants to train me to do everything to please her precious son. What about me? Why isn't she teaching him how to please me instead? Don't I count?"

  "I thought he pleased you.” Cee was the tiniest bit pleased to see Ellen Simmons fall from grace, but she didn't like to see Susan disappointed.

  "Like Nick does you? I come home to talk to you about my problems and walk in to find you carrying on like some sort of ... streetwalker."

  Cee felt a horrifying urge to shake Susan. “We were kissing, that's all, and Nick loves...” Smiling, she savored the word. “Me. Is that so hard for you to believe?"

  "I told you. Nick's using you.” Susan turned on her heel and rushed into the living room where she sank onto the couch.

  Cee, infuriated, followed to stand in front of her, arms folded. Everything was always about Susan. She'd let this go on too long, and the girl was headed for a serious fall if she continued to believe her brother was perfect. “No, Susan. You're wrong. Harry is the one who used me."

  "You're lying.” Susan turned white. Her lips paled.

  Contrite, Cee kneeled at her feet. She hadn't meant to tell her, least of all blurt it out like that, but her own hurt and anger got the best of her. “Are you all right?"

  Suz shrank from her. “Don't touch me until you explain that terrible remark."

  She forced herself to rise and sit on a chair, level with the couch where Susan sat. Sitting at her feet Cee felt small, and she had to be strong. She pulled the chair closer and leaned toward Suz, praying she wouldn't faint at the truth. “Harry cheated on me. He was coming from his girlfriend's house the night he was killed. Remember how you wondered why he was on that deserted back road?"

  "You're making that up,” Susan shrieked.

  "No.” Cee shook her head sadly. “I didn't want to tarnish your brother's memory, so I didn't tell you. But your idealization of him isn't healthy. No man's perfect, and Mark will never be able to live up to your memories of Harry. No man will."

  Susan's face grew red, her words clipped. “You hate him, and you're trying to make me hate him too."

  "That's not true.” Cee moved to the sofa.

  Susan scooted to the other end. “This is all about you and Nick."

  "It has nothing to do with us.” Although without Nick, she might never have told her about Harry's infidelity. Blinking back tears, Cee held out a hand to her foster daughter. “I want you to love him just as you always have, Suz, but your brother was human and made mistakes just as we all do."

  Closing her eyes, she prayed telling Susan the truth about Harry wasn't one of hers.

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  Chapter Eight

  CEE BANGED ON Nick's door, the screech of Susan's Mustang tires still ringing in her ears. He gathered her close to stroke her hair. “I heard her leave."

  It felt so good to be in his arms. So right. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him hungrily. He eased his mouth away and leaned back to look at her. “You're trembling, but I don't think it's desire. Tell me what happened."

  "She was acting like a brat, and I shouldn't have been so harsh because I'm the one to blame for spoiling her. But she kept criticizing and pushing until I told her the truth about Harry."

  "She was criticizing because of me. Because of us."

  "Right.” Cee nodded. “I'd wanted her to meet you and see how you and I are together. I wanted her to see the ways you make me happy. Show her the good things a man can be. Show her what true happiness looks like by seeing you and me together. But she refused to let go of her illusions and said I was trying to turn her against her brother."

  "We are good together, and she's jealous. So she acted out. And you gave her a truth that was overdue and vital to sorting out her life. Since she's sure Mark is like her brother, she has another piece to fit into the puzzle."

  Nick brushed her lips with a kiss, and Cee nodded. “She was saying Mark's mother should be teaching him to please her. And earlier, she admired your liberation. Add what I just told her, and she has a lot to think through. But I thought she'd go to her room, pout for a while, and finally accept the truth. Instead, she ran up the stairs and five minutes later, banged out of the house."

  "She'll be back. She needs time to cool off. You can't help her through this, C.J. Susan's trying to grow up, and you have to let her."

  "You're right, and though I regret springing it on her the way I did, I couldn't help myself when Suz spoke badly of the man I love."

  "You might never have done it otherwise."

  Cee ruffled Nick's hair, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Have you always understood women so well?” she asked.

  "You're kidding, right? Because if I understand you, you're the exception."

  "Either I'm exceptional or it's the karma again."

  "Mm,” he said, smiling blissfully as she squeezed his buns. “Mm-mm.” He kissed her long and hard, hands roaming her body, feeling, squeezing, tantalizing. “I think it's both."

  She wanted him. She always wanted him. Even now when she was worried about where Susan went and when she'd come back. Nick thrust his tongue into her mouth and—the phone rang. She wished he wouldn't answer it, but keeping one hand on her breast, he did. Cee closed her eyes, savoring Nick's hot touch, waiting.

  He dropped his hand. Her eyes flew open. He frowned. Looked at his watch. Fear shot through her. “I'm on my way."

  * * * *

  NICK, PUSHING 70 mph on the interstate, wondered how fast helicopters could fly. The one that was now carrying his father to St. Vincent's landed on the roof of Ridgefield General while Dell was breaking the news to Nick on the phone. How could Dad have a heart attack? He was never sick. C.J. was right about it making a difference if you put off things like visiting your parents.

  The nurse at the reception desk told him to have a seat and the doctor would talk to him soon. “Is he...?” Nick swallowed hard and tried again. This time, no words came out. He couldn't say ‘dead.’ Didn't even want to think it.

  "Mr. Dennis is in the coronary intensive care unit."

  The waiting room felt eerie. The lights burned low. A young woman sniffled into a tissue. A bald man with a paunch and red-rimmed eyes drank coffee and ate corn chips, rattling the bag. Nick hadn't eaten any supper, but he wasn't hungry.

  The scene in the ICU room was no less dismal. Nick stood by the bed, looking at his dad who should be tanned but looked pale and thinner than when he'd last seen him. The room opened onto a central area where nurses padded softly about, monitoring their patients and the machines they were hooked to. He wished C.J. were there. Just having her near always made him feel better. A male nurse came in to check his dad, and Nick went down the hall to phone Dell.

  "No
change yet,” Nick said. “It's so quiet here, it gives me the creeps."

  "I'd have driven out but thought you should be alone with him."

  "You can come when he's better.” Nick crossed his fingers the way he did when he was a kid and wanted something so much it hurt. The month after his mother left, he'd thought her fingers would become permanently entwined. But she hadn't come back. Or called. Or written.

  "I'm just glad you popped in to see him when you did.” Nick swallowed hard, thinking what might have happened if Dell hadn't stopped by his office and found Bart alone, suffering chest pains. The stubborn old coot hadn't wanted to go to the emergency room then and sure as hell wouldn't have gone on his own. It was after hours and everyone else had gone home for the day. If Dell hadn't decided to say “hello” and found the door unlocked, he might have died. He should have taken C.J. in that day.

  "Nick? You okay?"

  "Sure. Just a touch of jet lag from driving so fast.” He managed a hollow chuckle. “Have you seen Marianne since the engagement party?"

  "She asked me to call her, but I haven't. I don't have the nerve to ask her out.” He cleared his throat. “She's chic, and her home is the same way. She's Architectural Digest and Vogue. You know me, and you've seen my place. I'm Sports Illustrated and Midwest Living."

  "You must be in love to spout similes or metaphors or whatever the hell they are.” The nurse, his face expressionless, came out of Dad's cubicle. Nick broke out in a sweat. “Look, Dell. If you go see Marianne ... or if you don't ... check on C.J. and tell her I..."

  "You what?"

  "I'm sure Susan will come back."

  * * * *

  BART DENNIS OPENED his eyes and looked at Nick. “Son."

  "Dad.” Those two words said more than all the conversations they'd had over the past few years. Nick took his father's hand.

  "Where are we? How did we get here?"

  "Indianapolis. I drove as fast as I could. You flew."

  "No wonder my arms are so tired.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “When am I getting out of here?"

  "You had a heart attack. They want to run more tests, maybe do angioplasty. Don't worry about business. You've got good people working for you. They'll get along."