Promises, Promises

by Shelley Cooper

  She shook her head. “I offered to, but my parents refused to let me because they knew how much pleasure it gave me. They made many sacrifices during that time to try and keep my life as normal as possible.”

  “Let me see if I understand properly,” he said. “Your mother knew how much you loved the piano, refused to let you give it up when she couldn’t afford to pay for your lessons, and still she made you promise to give it up when you told her you wanted to be a concert pianist?”

  Gretchen reached past him for a puzzle piece. “Number one, she didn’t make me promise to give up the piano, she made me promise to choose a stable career. I made the choice to stop playing. And number two, it wasn’t immediately after I told her I wanted to be a concert pianist. She spoke to my piano teacher first and found out what being a concert pianist entailed. Then she asked me to make that promise. She didn’t want me to struggle the way she and my father had.”

  “So,” he said, “she equated your being a concert pianist with the years your father was without work. Why?”

  “Because of what my piano teacher told her. Only a handful of musicians, like Van Morrison here, actually make a living from their talent. The rest of them pretty much live hand to mouth. If they’re lucky enough they get steady work in seedy bars. If they’re not, they work two or three jobs just to keep on playing. It’s a tough life.”

  “I see. So you kept your promise to your mother.”

  “After everything she sacrificed for me, making a few promises in return seemed like the least I could do.”

  That caught his attention. “There was more than one promise?”

  “Yes. Not all at once. They were spaced over many years.”

  “Do you remember all of them?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mind sharing them with me?”

  This time she sat back in her chair and stared at him. “Why are you so interested?”

  He used the same words she had earlier. “Just making polite conversation. Plus, I’d do anything to avoid that awkward silence.”

  She gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s no huge secret. The first promise I remember making was when I was five. I’d just been diagnosed with asthma, and my mother made me promise not to overexert myself.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “No sports. No riding bikes. No roller skating. No running.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  He wondered if she realized that her interest in the piano coincided with the time her physical activities were curtailed. “I didn’t know you had asthma.”

  “I don’t anymore. I outgrew it.”

  “What else did you promise?”

  “When I was a teenager, I promised to be practical when it came to boys.”

  He had to smile at that one. “To steer away from boys like me, you mean.”

  She smiled back. “Most definitely. My mother also asked me to promise to keep an eye on my father. I was eighteen, and she was dying.”

  He felt a surge of sympathy. “So you lost your mother at a young age, too.”

  “Yes. My father also.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How long did you live here with your father?” Marco asked.

  “Seven years.”

  So, during a time when most of her contemporaries were out forging independent lives, she’d stayed home. “You didn’t mind spending those important years with him, instead of being out on your own?”

  “It was an honor being with him,” she stated simply. “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t have a life. I went to college. I dated. I even got engaged. I did everything all the kids I went to high school and college with did. I just did them while living at home.”

  He couldn’t hide his surprise. “You were engaged?”

  Amusement flickered in her eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Of course not,” he said quickly.

  He didn’t know why he was so surprised. She was in her late twenties, after all. By that time most women had had more than just a brush with serious romance.

  It was just that until recently she’d seemed so consumed by her work he’d assumed she’d rarely made time for romance. Was he subconsciously hoping that she’d saved herself for…him? Not only was that mode of thinking macho drivel, it had gone out of fashion years ago, when the first feminist burned her bra.

  And if she had saved herself, only a man who was willing to treasure and cherish her forever would deserve the privilege of that gift. It was the only kind of man who deserved her now.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “He was offered a job in Philadelphia, and I had to stay here.”

  If the memory caused her any pain, he couldn’t tell. “Chose to stay here, you mean.”

  “My father was sick by then. Of course I chose to stay here. Since neither my fiancé nor I wanted a long-distance marriage, we parted ways. We still keep in touch, although he married someone else.”

  “That was quite a sacrifice you made,” Marco said.

  “Are you saying you wouldn’t have done the same thing for a member of your family?”

  There were times when all he wanted to do was throttle the lot of them. Despite that, if asked, he would gladly lay down his life for each one of them. Without hesitation.

  “I would have done the same thing,” he told her.

  “I thought so.”

  He thought about everything she’d sacrificed for her family. “You’re a very special person, Gretchen Montgomery.”

  “So are you, Marco Garibaldi,” she replied. “Whether you know it or not.”

  After a brief pause she added, “I think I’m ready to link up to you now.”

  Chapter 7

  Marco’s heart faltered, and he began to sweat. “Wh-what did you say?”

  “I said,” Gretchen repeated, “that I’m ready to link up to you.”

  That’s what he’d thought she’d said. Then she nodded at the puzzle pieces that he’d fitted together, and he belatedly understood.

  “Oh.”

  Feeling like a fool, and hoping his face didn’t reflect that feeling, he slid the lower border toward her. Of course it fit perfectly with the pieces she’d assembled. The way he knew they would fit together.

  Marco gnawed on his lower lip and gave himself a mental shake. He had to get his mind out of the gutter.

  “Are you okay?” Gretchen asked, peering at him. “You look kind of funny.”

  She’d look kind of funny, too, if all the blood in her body had, without warning, rushed to a certain part of her anatomy.

  “I’m fine.” To take her focus off him, he added, “Any promises we haven’t covered?”

  “Just the promises to Jill.”

  Thankfully, his blood flow seemed to be restoring itself in a speedy fashion. “I already know about the wild, crazy affair you’re supposed to have. What other promises did she ask you to make?”

  Gretchen counted off on her fingers. “To live each day to the fullest, to spend every single cent of the money she left me, and to enter a piano competition.”

  At least now he knew where all the money was coming from. And, of course, why she’d been spending it so freely and acting so out of character.

  “I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she agreed. “It took a while, but I finally realized that every promise Jill asked me to make is in direct opposition to a promise I made to my mother.”

  “And Jill knew all the promises you’d made.”

  She nodded. “We were best friends. Of course she knew.”

  “Do you regret making them?”

  “Which promises? The ones to my mother, or the ones to Jill?”

  “The ones to your mother.”

  She seemed to ponder the question. “No. Those promises, and others like them, formed the person I am today. But I guess in some ways they have limited me.”

  “Which is why Jill made you
promise to do the things she asked.”

  “That’s my conclusion.”

  And, being a person who always kept her promises, she had wasted no time buying a fancy car, a whole new wardrobe and propositioning him. “Have you entered a piano competition yet?”

  “Yes. In Morgantown, West Virginia, in early November.”

  “That doesn’t give you much time to prepare.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. That was you I heard playing the piano the night I came to your door and asked you to turn down the music?”

  She looked embarrassed. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Jill was right. You need to enter a piano competition. You’re very good.”

  Her embarrassment changed to pleasure. “Thank you. And thank you for not saying my mother was wrong.”

  “What’s past is past,” he told her. “You can’t change it, so why dwell on it?”

  He regarded her for a moment. “Why haven’t I heard you playing since that night?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “But the competition is only three months away. You need to be putting in all the time you can.”

  She looked amused. “I do practice, you know.”

  “When?”

  “When I’m sure you’re not home.”

  “Practice whenever you want,” he told her. “Anytime, day or night. If it bothers me, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you.”

  He drew a breath. “So, you intend on keeping the promises you made to Jill?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Does this mean you’re still looking for a man to have sex with?”

  She gave him a patient look. “It’s not just about sex, Marco.”

  “Sure sounded like it to me.”

  “No. If it was only about sex, I could wander out into the middle of the street, pick up the first man I saw and have sex with him. If it was only about sex, I could make love to you, right now, here on this table. But that’s not what Jill wanted. It just took me a while to figure that out.”

  He was having some difficulty breathing after the making-love-with-him-on-the-table part. “What did she want?” he finally managed to say.

  “What a wild, crazy affair symbolizes.”

  “And that is?”

  “Letting go of all preconceived notions, of all inhibitions. Losing myself completely in another person, to the point where I don’t know where he ends and I begin. You can’t do that with a stranger.”

  He got his breathing under control. Barely. “Or a tenant,” he supplied.

  She nodded. “Or a stuffed shirt.”

  “Stuffed shirt?”

  “Jill’s term for all the men in my life to date.”

  “Does that include your erstwhile fiancé?”

  “Especially my ex-fiancé,” she said.

  “No wild, crazy affair with him?”

  “He wasn’t the wild, crazy affair type.”

  At least she thought he was, or she wouldn’t have propositioned him. That was some consolation, anyway. “Serious guy, was he?”

  “Deadly.”

  “So who can you have this affair with?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “What I do know is that up until now I’ve been going about finding him the wrong way.”

  “Including the way you came on to me?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.” Her voice rang with her conviction. “You know how it is when you have something you need to do, but deep down inside you don’t really want to do it, so you just decide to get it over with?”

  “Biting the bullet,” he said flatly.

  She nodded. “Well, that’s the way I initially approached the wild-crazy-affair thing.”

  He took the hit square in his ego. “That’s why you propositioned me? So you could get it over with?”

  “Yes.” She gave a faint smile. “Not really in the spirit of things, was it?”

  “That’s the only reason?” he pressed, his ego still smarting.

  “Why do you ask?” Suddenly she sounded wary.

  “Well, I figured you can’t have a wild, crazy affair if the person you plan on having it with doesn’t make you at least feel something. Can you?”

  She stared at him. “You’re asking if I’m attracted to you.”

  Her honesty surprised him. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “Then let me ask you something,” she retorted. “Have you ever really let yourself go with a woman? Have you lost yourself so completely in her that you didn’t know where she ended or where you began?”

  He’d had mind-blowing sex a time or two. He’d even had what he’d considered deep, thoughtful conversations, but which had, upon reflection, never been about anything too important. After each type of encounter, he had never experienced the intimacy, the closeness, that Gretchen was referring to and that other men seemed to feel.

  The only time he’d come close to losing himself in another person was back when he was engaged to Tess. Thank goodness he hadn’t lost himself to the point of submersion, because when she broke it off, where would that have left him?

  He had no business letting his ego get in the way of his dealings with Gretchen. Hadn’t he already decided that?

  “No,” he said.

  “And you don’t want to, either, do you?” she replied, surprising him yet again with her insight.

  Treating her question as rhetorical, he said instead, “Does this mean you’re withdrawing your proposition?”

  “I thought I’d already made that perfectly clear.” After a brief hesitation, she added, “Do you mind that I’ve withdrawn it?”

  He was off the hook. She wouldn’t be weaving any impossible fantasies around him. His life could go on just the way it always had, the way he had designed it. Why wasn’t he happier about that? And why was he feeling envious of the man she would ultimately choose?

  “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so. Just for the record, I don’t know who I’m going to have this affair with. What I do know is that I’m going to open myself up to new experiences, to new people. I’m going to get to know them and let them get to know me. When the time and the person are right, there will be no ambivalence on either part. We’ll both be ready.”

  “And then you’ll fulfill that promise to Jill,” he said dully.

  “Yes. The sooner each promise is filled, the sooner my life can get back to normal.”

  Did normal mean she’d revert to her old way of dressing and living, that she’d be like a caterpillar who, once it had emerged from the cocoon, was so terrified of the outside world that it climbed back inside, never to reemerge?

  It really was none of his business, or his concern, Marco told himself. He certainly couldn’t offer Gretchen what she wanted—needed—from a relationship.

  Still, after her revelations to him, and his to her, he couldn’t help feeling closer to her than he’d been to any other person in quite some time, including his brothers and his sister. The rain outside pattering softly against the roof, the soft lighting inside, her presence across from him at the table, the soothing voice of Van Morrison in the background, all combined to create a comforting feeling of intimacy.

  They both reached for the same puzzle piece, and their fingers brushed together. The soft catch of Gretchen’s breath was his undoing. Unable to resist the impulse, Marco leaned forward and placed his mouth on hers.

  It was a kiss that started with the slight pressure of two pairs of lips brushing together, and ended with them both out of their chairs, his hands framing her face to pull her as close as the width of the table would allow, her hands clutching his shoulders and their tongues entwined.

  As the kiss continued and grew deeper, Marco felt something shift deep in his soul, like a boulder rolling away from the entrance to a cave. He sensed he was about to cross a boundary he had never crossed before. One he wasn’t ready to cross just yet. Abruptly he broke the kiss.

  For a long moment they simply st
ood there, staring at each other and breathing hard. There was a stunned looked in Gretchen’s eyes that Marco knew she saw reflected back at her from his own eyes.

  “That was certainly a new experience,” she murmured, sounding dazed.

  “Oh, it was a new experience all right,” he said.

  Well, he’d done it, he told himself. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d turned the tables on her. The only problem was, he’d turned them on himself, as well.

  “I think I’ve had enough puzzles for one day,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  As if on cue there was a cry from the baby monitor. In unison Marco and Gretchen raced for the stairs.

  “You don’t have to cook dinner for me, you know,” Gretchen said. It was five o’clock, and the rain was still falling steadily.

  “I know,” he replied, reaching up to pull some pans off the overhead pot rack and placing them on the stove.

  She watched while he opened a drawer and selected a paring knife. From a second drawer he pulled several pot-holders, which he placed on the floor in front of Kristen. The little girl cooed with delight.

  As if by unspoken agreement, neither of them had mentioned the kiss. Gretchen supposed he didn’t want to analyze it any more deeply than she did. Why waste time thinking about it, anyway? It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.

  But if it didn’t mean anything, why had she responded the way she had? Why had she practically climbed up onto the table in her haste to get as close as possible to him? Why, for just the briefest of seconds, had she felt as if she’d finally met the one man with whom she could abandon her inhibitions?

  Because her imagination had run amok on her, that was why. And because, without question, Marco Garibaldi was the most accomplished kisser she’d ever encountered. It was all that practice he got. But she couldn’t abandon her inhibitions with a man who didn’t believe in committing himself to anything but his work, no matter how good a kisser he was. Could she?

  “We could always order out,” she said.

  “I don’t want to order out. I eat enough cardboard food at the hospital cafeteria.” He plucked a cutting board from a shelf and began chopping up vegetables. “Tonight I want a home-cooked meal. And I’m the one who’s going to cook it.”