Carolina Man

by Virginia Kantra

  His response warmed her. “She won’t mind a last-minute guest?”

  “Are you kidding? She’ll be thrilled. They all want to get to know you.”

  “Oh, God.” A trickle of panic leaked through the warmth. “What should I do? What should I wear?”

  “Besides the good underwear?”

  “They’re not going to see . . . Luke, I’m serious.” But a smile tugged her mouth.

  “It’s casual. We do the whole church thing Christmas Eve, so the day is pretty relaxed. When we were kids, we didn’t even get dressed until lunchtime. We just stayed in our pajamas and played with our toys.”

  “Really?” She was fascinated by this glimpse of a family so different from her own.

  “Yeah. Unless we got bikes or rollerblades or a new basketball hoop. And even then we put our jackets on over our pajamas.”

  A new thought struck her. “Presents. I have to buy presents.”

  “Kate, I don’t want you to get clutched up about this. It’s not that big a deal.”

  “Right.” She attempted a joke. “It’s not like you’re bringing me home to meet the family.”

  “Well, no. That would be dumb.”

  Right. She winced.

  “Seeing as you’ve already met them,” he continued. “They already like you. They appreciate everything you’ve done for me and for Taylor. Mom would have invited you even if we weren’t seeing each other.”

  A little flush of nerves and pleasure washed through her. “Are we? Seeing each other?”

  “Hell, yeah. We’re sleeping together.”

  “I meant . . . Exclusively.”

  “We’re together,” he repeated. “I thought that was a given.”

  Oh, boy. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Then I’m definitely bringing flowers.”

  She might not know the rules of normal family life. But flowers for the mother of the man you were seeing—exclusively—seemed like a no-brainer.

  “That’d be great.” She could hear his smile.

  “Or wine. Do your parents drink wine?”

  “Mom’s Italian. Of course they drink wine.”

  “And I should bring a gift for Taylor.”

  “If you want to, and you have the time to shop, fine.”

  “What does she like?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “What did you get her?” Kate asked.

  “A Wii. And some dance game.”

  There was a terse note in his voice that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “That’s a wonderful gift. She’ll love that.”

  “Hope so. She played it at some friend’s house.” A pause. “I had to call the friend’s mom to find out the name. I don’t know my own daughter well enough to pick out a damn present.”

  This wasn’t, she realized, about the game.

  “You’ll figure it out,” she said gently. “The way you did with Dawn’s picture and the cat.”

  “You gave her the cat.”

  “Because you came looking for it.” With your big muscled arms and your big generous heart and your tight-lipped determination to be what Taylor needs. How could I resist you?

  He sighed. “I’m glad you’re coming for Christmas.”

  Her heart jerked. “Are you?”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  She was no good at fun. She had no idea how a regular family behaved at Christmas.

  But he already knew that. He wanted her anyway. Maybe it would be all right.

  “So.” She heard the intake of his breath. “How was your day?”

  Breaking up families? Taking children away from their parents? Why would I want to hear about that?

  “Can I take the Fifth?”

  “That bad, huh?” His tone was sympathetic. And then it sharpened. “Nobody’s bothering you, are they? That Brown guy—”

  “No. No, nothing like that.”

  No man wanted to hear a woman whine. Whining was not sexy. Or productive. Luke had enough troubles of his own without listening to Kate maunder on about her relationship with her mother. That’s what she paid her therapist for.

  “Crickets,” Luke said into the silence.

  “What?”

  “Tell me about your day, Kate.”

  “Well . . .” Tentatively, she told him about some of the clients she’d seen that day, consciously choosing the good stories, the happy endings. A couple she had talked into trying mediation, a brother and sister who would be able to spend Christmas with their loving foster parents. As the call went on, as he asked questions and made comments, she found herself editing less, sharing more.

  He didn’t weigh everything the way she did. She operated from her head, by logic and rules, while he reacted from instinct and training. But he had a quick understanding of people and a deeply held code of personal behavior that she admired. It was nice to have someone to talk to as she brewed her tea, as she sat down alone at her table. It was helpful to hear his perspective.

  “And then I had drinks with Alisha,” she concluded.

  “Christmas celebration?”

  “Yes.” Ridiculous to feel proud of that, like a kindergartner boasting of a new friend at school.

  A silence opened.

  Her hand grew sweaty on the phone. “I talked to my mother today.”

  Another pause. Waiting.

  “How’d that go?” Luke asked at last.

  “The way it always does. We don’t . . . connect. I think I remind her of a part of her life she’d rather not think about.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was deep and gentle.

  Her eyes stung. “It is what it is. I’m thirty-two years old. I’m never going to please her. I need to stop wanting her to change. I need to stop expecting her to give me what I need.”

  “You don’t call her because you expect something.”

  She blinked. “I don’t?”

  “No. You call because she’s your mother and it’s the right thing to do. You do it for you. Because doing the right thing is important to you. That’s your payoff.”

  She gave a choked half laugh. “Then how come I still feel lousy?”

  “Because you deserve better.”

  His quiet response brought a lump to her throat. No one had ever told her that before, besides her therapist. Hearing the words from Luke was both far sweeter and more dangerous. To be valued, to be validated like that . . .

  She could not speak. She must not let herself hope. Hope led to disappointment, always.

  “Kate . . . Drive out tonight. Or tomorrow. There are rooms at the inn. You could spend the day, go to church with us tomorrow.”

  Temptation seized her. She wanted badly to say yes. And maybe that was reason enough to say no. She’d already made the emotional decision to come for Christmas Day. She must not depend on him for more.

  And she would not take this time away from his family.

  “This is your time,” she said. “Yours and Taylor’s. You should do the traditional Christmas Eve thing together.”

  “She’s ten. I’m pretty sure that’s too old for Santa. And we don’t have any traditions.”

  She heard the stubborn tone that masked his insecurities.

  “Remember the other day when we were watching the movie?” she asked. “You said you wanted me to stay as a buffer zone.”

  “Between the dog and the cat. Yeah. So?”

  “You don’t need a buffer zone between you and Taylor. You need to be getting as close to her as you can get. And that’s what she needs, too.”

  “Yeah.” He exhaled. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure,” she said with absolute sincerity.

  The silence this time was deeper, richer. No longer empty, but brimming with possibilities. Even the rain against the windows sounded cozy.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked and made her laugh again.

  “This is not turning into one of those phone calls.”

  “Why not?”

  Her skin bloomed. Her mind stuttered. Sh
e pressed her thighs together. “I am not that kind of girl.”

  “You could be. All I have to do is hear your voice and I get hard.”

  Her face flamed. “Oh.”

  “I’ve embarrassed you.”

  “Yes.” Honesty compelled her to add, “But I like it.”

  His chuckle raised all the little hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms. “So. Want to have phone sex?”

  “Um.” Her throat closed.

  She had spent years guarding her words, keeping secrets, divorcing her emotions from her speech. The more she felt, the less she could say. And with Luke, she felt . . . so much.

  “Too soon?” he asked.

  Maybe. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Later for that, then. I’m not the world’s most articulate guy, anyway.”

  “You do all right,” she said breathlessly.

  They talked a while longer. She couldn’t remember afterward exactly what they said. Her mind kept circling, returning to his words. All I have to do is hear your voice and I get hard.

  When they ended the call, she was flushed and dizzy and short of breath. Almost as if they’d had phone sex after all.

  What was she doing?

  He got to her, she admitted. He reached her on some basic level she could not defend against.

  It wasn’t his looks. Okay, maybe his looks had something to do with it. What woman wouldn’t lose her head over that hard, disciplined body, those burning blue eyes, those amazing arms?

  He had impressed her from the first by his willingness to shoulder his responsibilities, his determination to do the right thing. She liked his directness. His sense of humor tickled hers into being. His passion—in and out of bed—challenged hers. With very little effort, he could probably even talk her into phone sex. She smiled. Later for that.

  But she could have liked and admired him for all those things, his looks and his character, without loving him.

  What got to her was his loyalty to his family. His tenderness with Taylor. His generous, teasing affection.

  His heart.

  Kate had always imagined that if she ever let her guard down with a man, she would do so with clear eyes and a cool head after a considerable period of time and testing.

  She wasn’t prepared for a man like Luke.

  She hadn’t counted on love that wasn’t a careful, deliberate step, but a hard, fast fall.

  Seventeen

  “THERE ARE EIGHT bathrooms in this house,” Tess said, hands on her hips. The dinner dishes were done, the leftovers put away, and she was engaged in the eternal struggle of getting her family to church on time. “Would someone please explain to me why it takes twenty minutes to get out the door?”

  Matt gave her his slow, rare grin. “Because there are nine of us, Mom.”

  Tess bit her lip to contain her answering smile. “I’m not using a bathroom. I’m standing here waiting for the rest of you.”

  “Maybe you should try to go,” Luke suggested straight-faced, the way she’d said to him a thousand times growing up. “Just in case.”

  Taylor, so serious all afternoon, smiled.

  “That’s it,” Tom said. He rolled his shoulders under his navy blazer, a plough horse adjusting to the yoke. To please her, he was actually wearing a tie tonight. He looked so handsome. Handsome and dear and uncomfortable. “Everybody out.”

  And with a last-minute rush of where are my keys and I need my shoes and did someone take the puppy out, they spilled out the door and into the quiet night.

  The sun had set. The icy sparkle of a million stars soared above the glow of the Christmas lights. A little breeze carried the scent of the sea.

  “Shotgun!” Josh called.

  “In your dreams, cutie,” Meg said. “No way am I riding in back.”

  Sam put his arm around her. “I always wanted to make out with you in the backseat of your parents’ car.”

  “Ew,” Taylor said.

  “Josh, get in the truck,” Matt said. “You can ride with me and Allison.”

  “What about Luke and Taylor?” Allison asked.

  “We’ll take the Jeep,” Luke said.

  “Let’s go. We’re late,” Tom barked from beside Tess.

  Despite their hurry, she stood a moment longer on the deck, watching her family on the walk, stumbling and laughing in the dark. Matt, broad and solid, and Allison in lace like a bride. Josh, almost as tall as Matt now, beside them. Meg in her little black dress, smiling over her shoulder at Sam. Luke in his dress blues with Taylor, a little stiff, a little apart.

  Her heart yearned and ached for them. The stars sparkled and blurred.

  “Oh, Tom,” she said. “They’re all home.”

  He looked at her warily. “Nothing to cry about.”

  “Look at them, all paired up.”

  “Except for Luke.”

  “Tomorrow,” she said. That girl, that lawyer, would come, and they would see. “What do you think of her? She seems a little . . .” Tess hesitated. Cool. Abrasive. “Prickly to me.”

  “Our Meg’s prickly. This girl’s tough. And careful.”

  Tough was good. A Marine wife had to be strong. And careful was a better word. “But is she right for Luke?”

  “That’s up to him. You can’t choose for them, babe.”

  Tess sighed. “No.”

  But Luke was her baby. The youngest of their three, he needed to be needed. Needed a cause to give him purpose, a direction that could mean as much to him as the Marines. He’d never understood his own importance or his strengths.

  Meg turned on the walk. “Mom?”

  The word summoned so many memories. All those years when Tom had been the one in uniform or overseas, when the children were small. All the old, beloved stories hovered close tonight, pressing on Tess like the rush of angels’ wings. The stories of Christmas, the bewilderment and wonder of the unexpected birth, the courage to give and accept love.

  Stories about families, messy and imperfect, mismanaged and real and wonderful.

  Somehow it all came right in the end.

  “Babe.” Tom put his hand at the small of her back. “You ready?”

  Tess looked into the face of the man she had loved for forty years. Four decades of love. She gripped Tom’s hand and followed their children in the starlight.

  • • •

  THEY GOT THROUGH that okay, Luke thought with relief as he drove home along the dark road. A mist hung over the water and wreathed the half-moon.

  At Easter and in the summer months, when the tourist tide swelled Dare’s Catholic population, the Franciscans conducted Sunday services on the beach in a structure that resembled a campground’s picnic shelter. But in the still of winter, the friars offered mass in their own chapel. The small wooden church had been filled with the glow of candles, the scent of flowers and incense. Smells and bells, Tom called it. The handful of island Catholics had been there, along with a smattering of visitors.

  Even in such a small congregation, it had been hard to get away. Luke’s uniform attracted attention. People he’d known most of his life wanted to hug him and wish him well. Even the newcomers and Yankees wanted to shake his hand and thank him for his service.

  It had been pretty great, actually.

  Jack Rossi had been there, alone at the back of the church, in a charcoal gray suit and a crisp white shirt like a federal agent or a funeral director. With a name like Rossi, it figured the guy was Catholic. He caught Luke’s eye over the crowd and smiled briefly.

  Taylor had fumbled through the unfamiliar rituals of the mass, stayed quiet through the unfamiliar prayers. But she kneeled when the family kneeled, sat when the family sat. And sang the old, traditional carols in a clear, high voice that about ripped out Luke’s heart.

  He’d heard Meg sniff a couple times, and Mom and Allison both got misty. Well, Mom always cried whenever she managed to get them all to mass. It was practically a tradition.

  But Taylor didn’t cry. Not when he’d taken he
r to the front of the church to visit the crèche with its carved wooden statues of Mother and Child. Not even this afternoon when he’d told her the Simpsons were blowing off their scheduled visit to deliver her Christmas presents. Car trouble, they said.

  Whatever.

  All he cared about was Taylor, who was missing her mom.

  He glanced at her slumped against the passenger door, staring out the window at the colored lights flickering through the trees, looking like the weight of the world was pressing on her thin shoulders.

  She’d left off her camouflage cap tonight. Her pale, straight hair was shiny in the glow from the dashboard.

  On impulse, he reached into the backseat for his peaked white uniform cap and plopped it on her head. She looked up, startled, her hand flying to the shiny brim. And then her eyes met his and she smiled a tiny smile.

  The ache in his chest intensified.

  You don’t need a buffer zone between you and Taylor, Kate had said. You need to be getting as close to her as you can get. And that’s what she needs, too.

  He turned down the beach road.

  Taylor sat up. “This isn’t the way home.”

  “We’re taking a detour.”

  He switched the headlights to bright, driving slowly in case one of the shy island deer bolted across the road. No hitting Rudolph on Christmas Eve.

  A wavering line of erosion fence was pitched along the side of the road. He pulled onto the shoulder and cut the engine. The silence rushed in, sounding like the sea.

  They got out of the Jeep. The breeze was edged with salt and damp and chimney smoke, but compared to Afghanistan’s mountain nights, the air felt almost warm.

  Taylor shivered with cold or excitement, her little face pale in the dark.

  Luke shrugged out of his uniform jacket and slung it around her shoulders.

  She hopped from foot to foot. “Where are we going?”

  “Not far.”

  They climbed the stairs to the beach access, a long boardwalk stretching over the silver and gray dunes. Above the beach, the walkway widened to a deck with built-in benches on two sides.

  Luke stopped.

  “This is so cool.” Taylor ran to look over the rail. The half-moon threw a spotlight on the sea that shimmered to the horizon. The waves whispered and withdrew. “We’re, like, the only ones here.”