Family of His Own

by Catherine Lanigan

  “In Chicago. Then we got caught in this awful snowstorm.”

  “We?” all the women chorused.

  “Uh-huh. Wes and I.” Isabelle dug through her makeup kit for lip gloss and blush.

  “Who’s Wes?” they chorused again.

  Isabelle looked up. Wes was the man she’d been bonding with for the past four hours. The man who had captured her spirit.

  “He’s just the nephew of the gallery owner who’s showing my work next month.”

  Sarah stood, grabbed the blush brush and swept it across Isabelle’s cheeks. “Just?”

  “He, er, insisted on driving me back to Indian Lake. The storm was so bad. I was afraid they’d close the interstate.”

  “It’s not state of emergency yet, but they’re talking about it,” Olivia said. “I just hope we can all get to Gina’s for the reception before they close everything down. If we’re going to be stranded, I hope it’s out there. She has room for all of us.”

  Liz shot Olivia a conspiratorial glance. “There’s a hundred people out there. You’d have to give up your wedding bed.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “Okay. I’ll pray they don’t call state of emergency until morning.”

  Liz put her hand on her hip. “That’s when you’re supposed to be driving to O’Hare.” Olivia and Rafe had planned a honeymoon in Italy.

  Olivia picked up Isabelle’s nosegay and handed it to her. “Well, I’m glad this Wes, whoever he is, got you here safely and on time.”

  Isabelle’s smile was thin. “He did.”

  Just then the door opened and Olivia’s mother entered. She rushed over to Isabelle. “I’m so glad you made it. We were all so worried.”

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot my phone was off.”

  “Yeah, she was distracted,” Liz quipped pointedly.

  Julia put her arm around Olivia and smiled at her with so much love it caused Isabelle to wince. If she were ever to have a wedding day, she wondered if her mother would look at her like that.

  She thought of Wes’s disconnected relationship with his mother. Though Isabelle and Connie weren’t as close as Olivia and Julia, they were not as distant as Wes and his mother.

  With one last swipe of her lip gloss, Isabelle was ready. Together, the bridesmaids hurried to the back of the church, where they would meet the groomsmen to walk down the aisle. Julia would accompany Olivia, who hadn’t seen her father since she was a little girl.

  Isabelle steeled herself as she approached Scott. Before he had a chance to berate or accuse her, she whispered, “I was in Chicago and Wes graciously offered to drive me home through this terrible storm.”

  Scott, ever the gentleman, offered his arm, which she took.

  “Then I should thank him.”

  Isabelle felt a stab of guilt. She’d found Wes attractive, interesting and, yes, lovable. It was probably written all over her face. And Scott still looked at her with nothing but appreciation and care.

  She held his gaze as she had a hundred times—a thousand times—before, getting lost in those deep brown pools, recognizing every fleck of gold. When he put his hand over hers and caressed her thumb as the organ music swelled, she felt safe.

  Scott. Her friend. Her harbor in the night. She’d painted him years ago as the boy in the boat sailing to the stars. That’s how she’d seen him then. Free. Exploring vast universes, making an immense mark on the world.

  Had she painted Scott or herself?

  “How are the kids?” she asked.

  “Fine. They’re here with my mother. Bella is excited. She’s never been to a wedding.”

  She realized she’d painted Scott accurately. He was changing the world. One life at a time.

  “Here we go,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she replied as she positioned the nosegay at her waist.

  They started down the aisle and everyone in the church stood for the procession.

  Weddings always made Isabelle anxious. She attended them only when absolutely necessary, though she was happy for Olivia because Olivia truly loved Rafe. And that was okay. Over the past few years her girlfriends were falling in love and getting married. It was the natural course of life for most people, she knew.

  But not for me.

  All eyes were on her and Scott. Friends beamed at them. She spotted Edgar, and he winked at her.

  Odd. He was standing with Charmaine Chalmers—Sarah’s boss—and she was looking up at him with a radiant smile. Isabelle had often wondered if there was something between them, but Edgar had never alluded to any particular woman in his life.

  At the end of the next pew, Bella sat next to Theresa, who held Michael in her lap. The little boy waved.

  Bella wore a silver-blue dress with full skirt and deep blue waist sash. In her blond hair was a pale blue satin ribbon. Isabelle was struck with the thought that Bella had wanted to look like Cinderella.

  Isabelle smiled at her and whispered, “Pretty dress.”

  Bella lit up with pleasure, and Isabelle was surprised at how much the reaction warmed her.

  Next, she saw her mother, who watched her but didn’t smile. Isabelle’s eyes traveled down the pew, and she met the curious gazes of her brothers and sisters. Then she saw Wes.

  He stood out from the crowd, his smile as brilliant as a supernova. Isabelle felt a blush rising up her neck and face.

  As they reached the altar, Scott murmured, “See you later, gorgeous,” before letting go of her arm.

  Isabelle took her place across the church from him. She locked eyes with Wes.

  Then it hit her.

  I’m falling in love with two men. At the same time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SCOTT WATCHED WES with growing concern. The guy didn’t take his eyes off Isabelle during the entire ceremony. When Scott had made his decision to move on with his life and away from Isabelle, he hadn’t anticipated how much it would impact him if she fell for someone else. And it was evident she was responding to Wes, judging by her happy smile and the shimmer in her eyes when she looked at him.

  Scott’s heart pinched painfully. How much more proof did he need that he might lose Isabelle for good?

  There was no question in his mind that becoming a foster parent to Bella and Michael was the right thing for him. He’d never been happier or more fulfilled. Every day was an adventure with the kids. Seeing the world through their eyes gave him joy.

  Yet all the while, he realized, he’d thought, naively, that Isabelle would come around. She would realize that he loved her and that they were meant to be together.

  And he’d made a mistake.

  In all their years together, Scott had never fought for Isabelle. He’d been patient. He’d never pushed. He’d wanted her to have her dream.

  And now she had it.

  As he watched the photographer pose the wedding party for photographs after the ceremony, determination shot through him. He would fight for her.

  Isabelle’s brother Christopher offered to drive Wes to the train station while Isabelle smiled for pictures.

  No chance for Wes to give her a goodbye kiss or more longing gazes, Scott thought. Maybe fate was turning in Scott’s favor.

  His mother had already taken the kids to the reception at the Barzonni farm, so when the pictures were done, Isabelle offered to drive Scott.

  The whole way across town, he listened to her extol Wes’s critique of her oil painting. Though he was happy that her work was garnering serious attention, he didn’t like the prickly feeling that jealousy planted under his skin.

  It was unfamiliar; Isabelle had never so much as flirted with another guy in front of Scott. There had only been him. He should take refuge in that fact, but he didn’t.

  Wes was exactly the type of g
uy Isabelle could fall for. They were both artists. That alone was a good foundation for a relationship. “At least the storm is letting up,” Isabelle said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “And the snowplows are out in full force. You should have no trouble getting home tonight.”

  “None of us will,” she added as they pulled into the Barzonni farm.

  As Gina did for every party, winter or summer, the trees around the house and pool were lit with strings of clear twinkling lights. In the middle of winter-dark farmland, the property looked like a galaxy of its own.

  “How beautiful,” Isabelle said as she parked.

  Scott got out and came around to the driver’s side as she swung her legs out the door. He reached down and picked up the folds of her skirt. “You don’t want to get snow on that dress,” he said.

  When he took her hand, he felt like her prince. The night was starry, the air was cold and he could hear music drifting from the house.

  Scott put his arm around her shoulder. “That little stole isn’t enough to keep you warm.”

  “I know. Bad planning on my part. I was in such a rush to leave for my appointment with Malcolm, I forgot my dress coat.”

  They hustled into the house where the party was in full swing.

  Theresa walked up to Scott and handed him a bawling Michael, while Isabelle was swept away by her girlfriends.

  “I’ve tried everything, Scott,” Theresa said, her voice full of frustration. He understood the feeling. He’d wanted some private time with Isabelle and he’d hoped Michael would fall asleep early tonight.

  “Maybe he’s hungry,” Scott said, shifting Michael from one arm to the other, though nothing eased the child’s wailing. Scott massaged his little back; Scott himself had always liked a back rub when he was upset.

  Isabelle used to do that.

  It was an absentminded thing she did. Second nature. If he’d been crouched over his computer too long on a story, she’d rub the tension away, while describing her newest painting to him. She barely seemed to register that her hands were on him. But he knew.

  “He just ate. I changed him, but my guess is that all this excitement and upheaval is catching up with him.”

  Scott studied Michael, who was quieting down now that he had his hand on Scott’s cheek. “You okay, buddy?”

  Michael shook his head. “No.” Then he buried his head in Scott’s shoulder, sniffed and let out a huge sigh.

  “Hmm.” Theresa shot Scott a deliberate look. “Maybe all he wanted was you.”

  “Possibly. Bella used to be the only one who could quiet him.”

  “There’s something about a father’s strong arms that make a child feel safe, Scott. You give that to him.”

  His mother’s words were comforting amid the storm of new experiences, worries and concerns he had to admit he’d been unprepared to face.

  “But I do think you’re right, Mom. He’s been through a lot these past weeks. You can bet he’s not used to a party like this.”

  “Who is?” she teased and then her eyes grew wide as she tugged on Scott’s sleeve. “Wait till you see the food! Crab, scallops, beef Wellington. And three bartenders. I’ve never been to a party like this.”

  “It’s a wedding, Mom, and it’s my guess that after Gina’s husband died last year, she probably feels like making things happy for Rafe.”

  “And then some,” Theresa added.

  “Mom? Where’s Bella?”

  “Over there with Annie, Timmy and Danny.” She’d been pretty shy with other kids, but since they’d moved into the house, Bella had been seeing Danny nearly every day when he came home from school.

  Scott smiled. “That’s good. It seems like they’re helping her come out of her shell.”

  Mrs. Beabots came up to them holding a flute of pink champagne. “Scott. It’s so nice to see you. Theresa, don’t you look lovely.” She fixed her eyes on Michael. “And how is Michael this fine evening?”

  “Cranky,” Scott quipped. “I don’t think he’s a party animal. Bella, however...” He gestured toward the far corner where Bella was giggling with Annie. They were sharing a cupcake. “...is apparently learning how to steal desserts before dinner is served.”

  “You’ve certainly got your hands full, don’t you, Scott?” Mrs. Beabots peered at him with that unswerving, laser gaze of hers. “Though I have to say, fatherhood appears to agree with you.” She turned to Theresa. “You have such a handsome son.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I think it’s the tux,” Scott said. “I’ve found ladies like tuxes. Even five-year-old ones.”

  * * *

  JUST AS DINNER was being served, Michael finally fell asleep and Gina showed Scott to her bedroom where there was a crib and playpen she’d bought for her new grandson, Zeke. He was already curled up on the mattress.

  “I’ll put Michael in the playpen. I don’t want him to wake up Zeke,” Scott said.

  “Frankly, they’d probably both be fine in the crib. Once Zeke falls asleep, he’s out and barely moves till the sun comes up. Gabe and Liz will stay out here tonight so as not to disturb him.” She winked at Scott. “Aren’t they just adorable? Little ones? I so loved having a large family.”

  Scott covered Michael with a baby blanket. “You have no regrets?”

  “None,” she replied. “I wouldn’t have wanted any more—four boys...” She rolled her eyes. “They were a handful. Two handfuls. But now, with Rafe and Olivia getting married, well, I’m so happy they’re staying here on the farm and making this their life.”

  “I heard they’re building their own house.”

  “They are! You should ask Rafe to show you the plans sometime.”

  “I’ll do that. I recently bought a house and I’m planning to renovate in the spring.”

  “How exciting! Isabelle must be thrilled.”

  Scott froze. Gina didn’t know. He’d assumed everyone in their crowd had heard that Isabelle had rejected him. Or he’d rejected her. Honestly, it was a bit of both. They’d parted ways, and there was no going back.

  Or did she know something he didn’t?

  “I think aghast was more her reaction when she saw the house. Of course, it was dark and she couldn’t see it in its proper light. Lucky thing, too.”

  Gina took his arm and they tiptoed toward the door. “Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered. “Isabelle is a sensible girl. Creative. But sensible. You’ll see.”

  Dinner was winding down as Scott finally made it to the buffet table. Toasts were being made. Cake was cut and the string quartet played the first dance for the bride and groom.

  Scott had just polished off a stuffed shrimp when he noticed Isabelle at his side.

  “Dance with me?”

  He couldn’t discard his plate fast enough. “I thought that was my line,” he said, taking her in his arms and pulling her a bit closer than usual.

  “I figured you owed me a dance after our New Year’s debacle,” she said, tilting her head back to look at him.

  Till the day he died, Scott didn’t think he’d ever come to a point when a mere glance from Isabelle wouldn’t send him to his knees. For so long he’d played his cards close to his chest. He’d waited patiently, hoping she would one day see what was right in front of her. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could share her heart with him. But some part of him had always known that her heart was in her painting.

  The fact that he was dancing with her was a shock.

  Because they’d gone their separate ways, Scott spent a lot of time rehashing the past and what they’d been to each other. They hadn’t actually been a couple, though he’d wanted that. He supposed in his mind, he’d been guilty of possessiveness toward Isabelle. He wondered if his presumption had perhaps kept Isabelle at arm’s length.

&nb
sp; Had he unconsciously sabotaged their relationship?

  He’d given her space when she needed it, and even when he felt it was the worst thing for him. But right now, holding Isabelle was a miracle. A Valentine’s miracle.

  “I got you something,” she said.

  “No, you didn’t. We don’t exchange gifts. Remember? One of your...”

  She put her fingers over his lips. “It’s not like that.” She reached under the sash around her waist and pulled out a folded card.

  “What’s this?” He opened it up. “An invitation?”

  “To my showing. It’s by invitation only, and I want you to come. You have to be there, Scott.”

  “I do?” I do. And I don’t. As her friend, he’d always supported her. But she had chosen her world of art over him and he couldn’t deny that he was heartbroken. He was surprised she’d invited him. He would have thought that Wes would have been enough for her.

  Then again, there was a chance that Isabelle was confused. Her invitation told him that she wasn’t ready to discard him completely.

  “Say you’ll come.”

  “I will.” He smiled at her and this time he leaned down and fulfilled a tiny part of his earlier fantasy. He kissed her lightly. It was only a few seconds that their lips met, but it was a strategic move.

  “Oh, Scott,” she sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

  He looked up at the crystal chandelier overhead and smiled to himself.

  It had been a good move.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “WHAT BAD TIMING,” Scott grumbled under his breath as he held his cell phone in one hand and brushed Bella’s hair with the other. “Mom, you can’t have the flu. I’m leaving in twenty minutes for Chicago.”

  “I’m sorry. But I don’t want the kids to get this and neither do you.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  “Why don’t you call one of Isabelle’s sisters and ask if she can stay with the kids? Didn’t Sadie watch them last Saturday when you had to work?”