‘I didn’t see her today.’ Fabian’s paint-coated fingers stroked around his moustache, ‘Her mind’s made up. And when a woman makes up her mind…’
Blank-faced, stunned, Dominic leaned back against a wooden railing and stared at his friend. ‘I’m dead, aren’t I?’
‘Sunday, I think it’s clear you were dead when she threw the engagement ring in your face.’
Kyle appeared at the bottom of the deck stairs and glared. He had a short-handled brush in his hand and Clementine on his shoulder. ‘She threw the ring in your face?’
How is it the kid always shows up at precisely the wrong time? Dominic looked at his son and gave a helpless little shrug.
‘Way to go, dickweed!’
‘Dickweed?’ Dominic’s empty confusion turned to astonishment. ‘Did he just call me dickweed?’
Fabian snickered. ‘It’s fitting.’
Kyle put the dog on the grass. ‘Just awesome! You have one fight and it’s all over. You ruin everything. She’s leaving town, she’s leaving us because you can’t say you’re sorry! You asswipe!’
‘Hey!’ Exasperation prickled his skin and Dominic exhaled though his teeth. ‘This is hard and I get it, Flash, you’re pissed, but you call me one more name and I’ll sell that car!’
‘You can’t sell squat. It’s registered to me.’ Kyle shook dog hair from the brush he’d just used on Clementine.
‘You really want to push it, Kyle?’
‘Oh, all right. I take back the asswipe, but come on, you have to apologise to girls. Even I know that. It’s like an unspoken law that the dude says sorry first – even if he doesn’t mean it.’
‘The kid’s got a point.’ Fabian nodded.
Eyebrows arched high in disbelief, Dominic looked from his son to his best friend. ‘The kid’s got a point?’
Shrugging, Fabian scratched his beard. ‘Well, that’s how it is in my house.’
‘But I do mean it. I am sorry. Every day since,’ Dominic straightened and swallowed hard, ‘she walked into the office. I’ve tried to see her. I’ve tried to apologise. I tried to talk to her but she’s cut me off. She’s shut me out. I love her and she won’t see me. She won’t even look at me. I can’t figure out how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this right. I tried. I really tried...’ the last few words came out strained.
Kyle set Clementine in the grass and came up the steps. He a put his hand on the nape of his father’s neck and pressed forehead to forehead. ‘Well, try harder, Dad.’
The Venus De Milo champagne fountain mooed as liquid trickled from her armless shoulders. Lesley had no idea where Toby had found the ‘sculpture,’ but it made quite an impression on the reception guests. As cheesy as the arty drink dispenser was, Lesley was amazed by the amount of work her cousin had done. He had transformed the Immaculate Heart of Mary parish hall into Little Italy meets Ireland. There were tables with shamrock-green tablecloths and Irish and Italian flag centrepieces. Green, white and red bunting on one side of the room mirrored the green, white and orange bunting on the other. He’d organised the kitchen staff, arranged the buffet tables.
Lesley sighed and the fountain lowed softly again. Or had that sound come from her mouth? She couldn’t tell. Mentally and physically weary, her head had drooped and dipped a little too far during the nuptial mass. John’s elbow – and the organist hitting a few sour notes in the musical interludes – had brought back her from the edge of dreamland. Half an hour into the evening reception, fatigue pushed in even harder and it was entirely possible she’d nodded off this time.
Lesley rubbed her eyes, forgetting all about the mascara and under-eye concealer she’d slathered on to cover the fact she hadn’t been sleeping.
She rose from the table where she sat with her parents, John and his mother, and wandered around the hall, hoping to reenergise herself. Champagne tinkled from the Venus fountain as she shuffled by to stand at the back of the hall near the open door.
The evening breeze drifted in from outside. It wafted over her with a whisper that beckoned, that suggested. Go ahead, the breeze murmured, Slip out to the Bronco. No one will see. No one will care.
Right. Maybe they wouldn’t see her leave, but of course they’d care. If she took off, she’d disappoint GP and never hear the end of it from her mother. Two more days, she only had two more days, three days tops. The patio pour was tomorrow and the enamel guy doing the bathtub on Saturday. Then she could go back to Chicago.
Lesley tried to breathe deeply, to inhale enough oxygen to wake up her sluggish body. It only made her yawn. When her mouth gaped open a third time she felt a hand on her elbow. A lace-edged square of Irish linen ticked against her knuckles. She blinked to moisten her contacts and found her new grandmother beside her.
‘You’ve got a little something under your eyes, dear,’ the pink-clad redhead smiled. She handed over the hankie and swallowed the last bit in her champagne flute.
Lesley wiped off the make-up smudges.
‘There. That’s better. You’re grand. Och, doesn’t my husband look dapper up there?’ Eilish nodded toward the front, where GP was tapping a finger against the podium microphone Toby had set up on the little stage.
‘Yes, he does.’ Lesley handed back the hankie and gave her grandmother a little smile. ‘Here, let me get you fresh champagne from the fountain. It looks like they’re about to start making toasts to you.’ Lesley took the empty crystal glass from Eilish’s hand.
‘Thank you, pet,’ the bride said. ‘Would you like to ask this big handsome man in the dirty clothes standin’ behind you if he’d like some too?’
Chapter 27
Lesley turned and her stomach flipped, twirling beneath her ribs. Dominic’s shirt was the exact colour of his eyes, but it was covered with grass stains and drying mud. Soil was caked on his boots and he’d tracked clumps of it into the hall.
Immediately, her exhaustion was replaced by an invigorating punch of indignation and something else. Seeing him again was unexpectedly painful, which made no sense. How could her heart feel anything when it was nothing but a chunk of cold rock in her chest?
She felt herself swallow. ‘What the fu—hell are you doing here?’
‘I said I’d come.’
‘You know the “being a man of your word” thing doesn’t impress me anymore.’ So just try to reach out and squeeze my heart. Maybe there’s a little blood in the stone you left me with. ‘And I’m busy with my grandmother.’
Dominic smiled. ‘My best wishes to you, Mrs Rotolone.’
Eilish patted his dusty arm. ‘Oh, don’t you look all ruggedly handsome and outdoorsy. ‘Course you’re not as handsome as my Marty, but you’re close.’
Lesley cleared her throat loudly. ‘Will you excuse me, Grandma? I’ll get your champagne.’ Swearing under her breath, she headed for the table with the trickling Venus. She put the dirty glass on a tray and reached for a clean one.
‘I want to talk to you.’ Dominic said behind her. There were small pink and red flowers on the form-fitting green dress she wore. It had no sleeves or straps, nothing to get in the way of touching her bare shoulders. He had to stop his hand before his fingers skimmed over all that soft skin.
‘OK. You’re sorry. I know the drill now. Blah, blah, blah.’ She jerked her thumb over a shoulder without looking at him, ‘My dad’s back there with Father Kearny. Ask him to give you absolution.’ Venus mooed and Lesley splashed champagne on her shaking hand as she tried to fill a glass.
Try harder. Kyle said ‘try harder’. Dominic leaned closer. He brushed against her elbow and held a flute beneath the trickling cascade. It wasn’t holy water, but maybe sparkling wine in a church hall could still perform a miracle. ‘Just give me a minute to say something, Lesley.’
Miners inside Lesley’s body began to jack hammer and chip away at her breast bone. She felt her nose begin to turn red. What the hell was this? Feeling this way made no sense either. Why was she on the verge of tears? Sniffling, she grabbed a na
pkin, wiped her hand and spun around. ‘Would you leave?’
‘Five minutes. That’s all I want.’
Gina appeared at the corner of the table and glared. ‘Hey you, this is a private family function.’
Barely curbing a screech, Lesley watched Dominic smile handsomely, again. ‘Hello, Mrs. Samuels,’ he said, ‘congratulations to your father for choosing such a lovely bride.’
‘Lesley,’ her mother took in Dominic’s appearance, ‘what is he doing here?’
‘I’m having a private discussion with your daughter.’
‘You think she wants to talk to you?’
‘Of course she does.’
Teeth clenched, Lesley shook her head. ‘Mom, Mrs Garcia needs help with her arancini. She keeps tipping it off her plate.’
Her mother gave Dominic one more searing scowl before she flounced off to assist Mrs Garcia with her ball of breaded rice. When Lesley looked up at Dominic, she saw a fine layer of dark dust on his forehead. He smelled of earth, of cedar, cypress and sweat. Blindsided by the intensity of the fragrance, by the physical memories attached to his scent, her flinty heart raced and a little wounded sound oozed out of her mouth. ‘Stop torturing me. I don’t have anything to say to you.’
‘Torturing you? We have a problem if you think I’m torturing you. I’m tired of playing this game. You owe me.’
Rising tears were replaced by a burst of outrage. What had possessed her to think there was very little of Peggy in him? She’d witnessed it and been subject to it twice. He was every bit his mother’s son. She squinted up at the big chunk of chiselled man. ‘I owe you? For what?’
The fountain mooed again and Dominic felt something tap against his shoulder. Instead of a dark navy uniform, John wore a charcoal suit and pale green shirt. The rolled-up paper in his hand was a poor substitute for a police baton. ‘Come on, Dominic,’ he said, ‘let’s go.’
‘Hey, I was invited.’
Lesley crossed her arms. ‘You’re officially uninvited.’
‘OK, Dominic, you heard her. Leave.’
Dominic looked down at the smaller man. ‘You gonna put the cop moves on me, John? Bend my thumb behind my back and force me outside?’
John narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m off duty, but I can accommodate you if you like.’
Lesley felt a haze of testosterone begin to swirl around her ankles. Across the room, dressed in a purple tuxedo, Toby rose from his seat. He sauntered towards them. She could almost hear showdown music and spurs. She nearly shouted, ‘All right boys, holster your dicks!’ but she was in the church hall, the bride was waiting for her champagne and GP was glaring at them from the podium where Mike Witteveen was preparing to make his best man toast to the bride and groom.
Lesley stepped in before the male hormones started blazing like six-guns. ‘All right, Dominic. Fine. Have a seat. We’ll talk, outside, when this toast is over.’
Twin aquamarines bored into her for a moment as he considered the idea. ‘OK,’ he exhaled, downed his bubbly, and walked to one of the folding chairs near the door.
For just a second, Lesley shut her eyes.
‘You’re sure about that, Lesley?’ John said.
No, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. Why did Dominic have to show up and make her remember how she’d felt before? She grabbed back hold of her anger and shook her head. ‘No, I’m not sure, but considering this wedding is supposed to be about love, I have to go with a peaceful alternative now, don’t I?’
He cocked his head and gave her his Bruce Willis about-to-take-on-the-bad guys smirk. ‘Right. You change your mind, I’ll be right over there.’ He pointed to the table where his mother sat.
Lesley carried the champagne to where her grandmother sat and stood behind her. They both faced the Italian flag-swathed podium. A moment later, GP settled into the chair beside his wife, a hand on her shoulder. He glanced up at Lesley, pursed his lips and whispered, ‘Did you see the tomato your cousin brought?’ His chin jerked to where Toby sat with an Amazonian blonde in a purple sheath that matched his tux. ‘Her name’s Esmé. She’s a systems analyst.’
Eilish elbowed her husband, ‘Hush, Marty, the big mouth’s goin’ to say somethin’ sweet about us.’
The best man cleared his throat, switched on his Hollywood smile, kicked off things with a rousing, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m Aces Witteveen!’ He grasped both sides of the podium. ‘My dentist spent a great deal of time getting my smile right. I think he did a marvellous job. Don’t you?’
‘Che Cazzo!’ GP muttered and rolled his eyes.
Eilish covered her mouth to stifle a yip of laughter.
In seconds, Mike’s account of having his bridge repaired by Val Kilmer’s dentist became a story about how he met his beloved late wife in a orthodontist’s office, which became a monologue on how he wound up in Los Alamos, and then turned into the tale of how he’d come to meet his dear friend Martino ‘Big Wheel’ Rotolone.
‘Minchia,’ GP groaned. ‘That old windbag. Look how much he enjoys the spotlight. I wish I had a hearing aide. I’d turn that sucker off right now.’
Trying not to look at him or ponder how she was peacefully going to kick Dominic’s heartbreaking ass, Lesley refocused on her grandpa. ‘Is he actually going to make a toast?’
‘What, you mean before I die? I bet that’s why he agreed to be my best man. That’s been his plan all along. He’ll talk until I’m dead and then he’ll have you all to himself, ciccina mia.’
‘Oh, Marty,’ Eilish giggled, ‘you’re bad.’
‘We all do bad things when we’re in love.’ GP put his hand on Lesley’s elbow. ‘Isn’t that so?’
She met his brown eyes. ‘Isn’t what so?’
‘I’m ninety-two and I still drive, so I see just fine. Do you love him?’
The world tilted sideways. Lesley stared at her grandfather and scrambled to keep her footing, to avoid the query, to keep the answer buried. She grabbed the back of her grandmother’s chair and choked on the breath lodged in her tight throat. ‘DoyoulovehimDoyoulovehimDoyoulovehim?’ The words rumbled through her head like a locomotive.
GP glanced at Dominic sitting near the door. Then he looked back to his lovely bride and Lesley. ‘Thirty-five years is a hell of a long time to wait for it to come to you again, isn’t it, Sweater Girl?’ He reached up and pinched her cheek, smiling softly.
Lesley began to cough.
‘Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t you forget about me,’ suddenly blared out of Dominic’s phone. All heads turned in his direction as he stood up and fumbled to switch it off, a clipped, but audible, curse on his lips.
Lesley twisted around to look at him, eyes blinking. Then she handed her champagne glass to her grandmother, jerked her thumb to the exit and began walking towards him. Dominic stepped outside into a ponderosa pine-scented breeze. In a few paces he was at his Jeep. He reached through the open window and took a paper bag from the front seat.
‘Is Kyle all right?’ Lesley said a yard behind him. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
He shut the door and turned to face her. The light was dusky as the sun sank lower behind the Jemez Mountains. A few bright stars flickered on in the darkening sky. Dominic felt as if his last bits of hope were fading with the daylight. ‘Kyle’s fine. He’ll be fine. I’m here because you put the house on the market,’ he said, looking down at his filthy boots. ‘I said I’d do the yard before you sold it, so I finished it a half hour ago. We had a contract. I honoured that arrangement. I took a bobcat in and levelled everything. The rotten fencing and scrub oaks are gone. There’s turf in the back and a stone garden with natives planted in the front. You’ve got the view you wanted. You’ll pull close to a million now.’
Lesley crossed her arms and snorted. A contract? Ha! She was beyond caring about making a profit. She’d never pegged Dominic as greedy, but then again she’d done nothing but misread him for the past seven weeks, so his avarice was probably there all along. Money. What they had
had been reduced to money. How sad. How cruel. How unjust.
How undeniably through they were. She stared at him. ‘Fine. You want me to uphold the agreement. How much?’
He exhaled. ‘This isn’t about money. It’s about the other day.’
‘Oh.’ She snorted again. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep your fearful little secret.’
Dominic’s head came up. ‘My fearful—this is all wrong.’
‘It was all wrong. You were all wrong. Tell me something. Who knows about the wrong that’s been done? Besides you, Terry, Stefanie, and now Kyle, who else knows the sordid details?’
‘Just Fabian and my friend, Willa. They’re Kyle’s godparents. They’ve always known. Listen, Lesley, this is—’
‘Fabian? Fabian? Wait a second. Your mother doesn’t know? You tell two friends, but you never told your mother?’ Lesley’s fingers raked though her hair. Locks fell into her face as she made some very Italian gesture. ‘Isn’t that just swell! You keep her in the dark and let her think whatever she wants to, just like Kyle. I guess it’s just easier to carry on that fine tradition and make me the convenient little patsy, again.’ Lesley began to back up. ‘Well, fu—’
‘Glory days, Lesley,’ Dominic held up a palm, ‘will you please be quiet, and wait, for just one second? Please.’
She squinted. ‘What the hell for?’
Dominic squeezed the rolled top of the paper bag. ‘I mean what I say.’
Her brusque laugh sounded like a chicken’s cluck. ‘Yes, I know you do. I opened Pandora’s Box and ruined everything.’ That long finger of blame had been hard to miss when it had sunk right into the core of her being.
He dropped his hand and shook his head. ‘Except that. I mean what I say, but I did all this unspeakably wrong and you got it wrong. You got it so wrong. I told you I was new to it. I told you I’d make mistakes, and this was a huge one. I blame myself for everything. Not you. I don’t blame you. Not for any of it. Maybe you don’t believe that, but maybe you can understand some part of it. I love my son, and he is my son, Lesley. I’ve been father and mother to him and I fought like any parent would when I felt my child was threatened. I feared for him, for my family, and I lashed out at you. It was brutal and it was wrong.’
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