Miracle Road es-7

by Emily March

  “Lucca?” Celeste said, coming up beside him. “Is Hope all right?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked down at Celeste and into her kind, peaceful blue eyes. “You’re good with people. She doesn’t want me around, but maybe you could see if she’d use your shoulder to lean on?”

  “Of course. Let me get my jacket.”

  “Let me give you hers, too.”

  Lucca watched from the kitchen door as Celeste approached Hope, who had taken a seat on the bench around the stone fire pit he’d built. Hope looked up at her, her expression desperate, but she didn’t send Celeste away. Instead, the older woman sat beside Hope and listened as she began to talk. Quite animatedly.

  Lucca couldn’t stand it. He wanted to know what she was saying. He cared about her. Dammit, he might even be in love with her!

  Whoa. Where had that thought come from? Did he really just think that?

  Yes, you did. And you do. You know you do. You love her and you’ve been running from that reality for weeks.

  Okay, then. As the man who loves her, I want to know what the hell is going on.

  So Lucca went upstairs to the bedroom above the fire pit. Quietly, he slid the window open, leaned forward, and without the slightest bit of shame, eavesdropped.

  “My husband was right. I was a terrible mother. I gave my daughter to a stranger. I don’t deserve to be a mother.”

  “Honey,” Celeste said sharply. “I don’t want to hear you using past tense when it comes to motherhood. Wherever she is, alive or, God forbid, passed on, you are and you will always be Holly’s mother. That is reality, and it doesn’t change. You can, however, use the past tense when it comes to Mark. He is your ex-husband.”

  “He was right, though. I didn’t deserve her.”

  “You didn’t deserve to have her taken from you.”

  “What am I going to do? I don’t deserve a second chance. I can’t do this, Celeste.”

  Do what? Lucca wondered, unease washing through him.

  “Do what?” Celeste asked.

  Hope buried her face in her hands. She mumbled something that Lucca couldn’t make out. Celeste reached out and enfolded her in her arms, and Hope sagged against the other woman.

  What is going on?

  The back door opened and Lucca’s sister called, “Celeste? Hope? Mom says dinner is on in five minutes.”

  Lucca held his breath as Celeste murmured something to Hope. She nodded and Celeste called, “We’ll be right there.”

  He didn’t step away from the window until the women—both women—rose and entered the house. Then, slowly, his thoughts in turmoil, Lucca descended the staircase, meeting Tony at the bottom. “There you are,” his brother said. “You know, bro, I thought you were smarter than this. The time to hide is after dinner when dishes need doing.”

  “Right.” Lucca’s gaze trailed back toward the kitchen.

  Tony gave him a hard look. As was the way of twins, he picked up on Lucca’s unease. “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tony waited a beat, then handed Lucca one of the bottles of wine he carried. “Help pour while you figure it out.”

  Ten minutes later, family and friends gathered around the food-laden table. Lucca sat next to Hope and across from Richard Steele, while his mother sat at the end of the table closest to the kitchen. She’d asked Celeste to take the seat at the head of the table opposite her, in his father’s usual spot.

  Maggie tapped her spoon against a crystal water glass. “Before we say grace, I want to thank you all for joining me for the first meal here at Aspenglow Place. We are blessed to be surrounded today by dear friends and family. We also remember those loved ones who are not with us today.”

  Lucca took hold of Hope’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. She closed her eyes. He couldn’t miss the tension in her body.

  “My husband had a favorite Thanksgiving quote he invariably repeated as we sat down at the table,” his mother continued. “Lucca, would you do the honors?”

  He tore his attention away from Hope. “Say the prayer?”

  “No. I’ll ask Zach to lead us in our blessing. I’d like you to share your father’s favorite Thanksgiving saying.”

  “That’s a nice way to remember a loved one at a holiday,” Celeste observed.

  Yes, Lucca realized. It was. He cleared his throat and quoted not the Bible, nor an ancient philosopher, but the humorist Erma Bombeck. “‘Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Halftimes take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.’”

  As one, Tony, Gabi, and Max said reverently, “Amen.”

  And so, the first Thanksgiving dinner at Aspenglow began with laughter and a prayer.

  Lucca kept a close eye on Hope. She took tiny little helpings and picked at those, eating just enough so that his mother wouldn’t be insulted or get her feelings hurt. But she engaged in conversation, mostly with Richard and his daughter-in-law, and as the meal went on, he noticed that she did relax. Once that happened, he was able to unwind and enjoy his meal, too.

  The food was delicious, as always. Not for the first time, he wondered how it was that the culinary gene had managed to skip his sister entirely. He asked the question aloud, and Gabi threw a roll at him. Little Claire’s eyes grew round as saucers. She’d relaxed, too, he realized when he heard her chatting with his mother, and, he was glad to see, with Hope, too.

  Well, that’s a positive development. Claire was a cute kid. The Steeles were nice people. Richard’s kids obviously thought well of him and, upon seeing that, the last of Lucca’s reservations about the man melted away.

  When he’d eaten his fill, he sat back in his chair and observed the people around him. This truly was a day for Thanksgiving. I am so blessed. I have such a great family. And Hope … I can’t give her Holly, but I could give her this. She could be part of it. I could give her a family.

  Would she marry me?

  As the question popped into his mind, he reached for his wineglass at the same time Hope picked up her water. That’s when Claire Steele asked, “Do you have a daughter, Ms. Montgomery?”

  Hope’s arm jerked. Lucca’s wineglass tipped. Ruby red liquid went flying onto Hope’s white shirt and across his mother’s peach-colored tablecloth. The crystal glass smashed against the floor.

  Hope jumped to her feet. “Oh. Oh. I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.”

  “My fault,” Lucca said. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Maggie insisted. “My mother always said that a stained tablecloth was a sign of a good meal.”

  “I’ll get some paper towels.” Hope hurried toward the kitchen as his mother said, “Lucca, the broom and dustpan are in the mudroom.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” But the broom wasn’t in the mudroom where it belonged, and it took him a few minutes to find it. When he returned to the dining room, Hope wasn’t there. “She left,” Gabi told him. “She said she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “I’ll go check on her,” he said as he quickly swept up the broken glass.

  Celeste shook her head. “Sit down and have your pie first, Lucca. The girl needs some time to think.”

  Think about what, he almost asked. Her earlier words echoed in his mind. What am I going to do? I don’t deserve a second chance. As he tossed the broken glass into the trash bin, he put together the clues. He didn’t have to ask. He was pretty sure he knew.

  She’s pregnant.

  He needed to sit down before his knees gave out and he fell down, so it only made sense that he do it at the table. When his mother put thin slices of his three favorite pies on a plate in front of him, it only made sense that he eat them. Then, since it was his and Tony’s turn for Thanksgiving kitchen patrol, it only made sense that he show up for duty so that he didn’t get his ass kicked by the sibling who’d be called upon to fill in for him.

  After all that, considering the task that lay before him, it only made sense to raid his
mother’s liquor cabinet, pour three fingers of scotch, and sit outside to sip his liquid courage for a bit.

  Pregnant. He could be wrong, but he didn’t think so. His gut told him otherwise, and as stuffed as he was from Thanksgiving dinner, the message had to be strong to get through.

  They hadn’t used protection their first time together. She was pregnant. She wasn’t happy about being pregnant. Holy hell, this was going to be tricky.

  He’d just thought about marriage for the first time today. He hadn’t told her he loved her. She certainly hadn’t said those words to him. But Lucca was old-fashioned enough that when the woman he loved was carrying his child, he wanted to marry her. Make a family with her.

  He recalled her words to Celeste. She didn’t deserve to be a mother. She couldn’t do this. Hope was scared to death. That was understandable. He was scared spitless himself. And he’d never had a child before, much less one who’d been kidnapped.

  What if Hope was too frightened to go through with the pregnancy? He didn’t know her views on abortion. They’d never discussed it.

  Well, this was a discussion that had to take place immediately. He wanted this baby. He wanted her. He would have them both. Lucca knew how to win, and win he would.

  He polished off his scotch, went back inside to make his excuses to his family, then left Aspenglow Place determined to expand the number of Romanos by two.

  A short, brisk walk later, he rapped on Hope’s front door. She didn’t answer. He didn’t let that stop him. He tried the knob, expecting to find it unlocked. It was. Roxy met him as he stepped inside, and without thinking about it, Lucca bent and scooped the little dog up into his arms. He scratched her behind her ears as he went looking for Hope.

  He found her in her bedroom standing beside her window and gazing out at a snowcapped Murphy Mountain, her eyes red, her cheeks stained with tears. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful, he thought. Then he noticed that she was standing with her hand placed protectively over her lower belly, and in that moment, his worst fears dissipated. This was not the stance of a woman considering aborting her child.

  Joy washed through him like a sunshine-warmed stream, filling up spaces inside him that had been dark too long. Strategic thinking cautioned him to keep that to himself for now. Roxy wiggled in his arms, so he set her down. “You ate and ran.”

  “Yes. It was rude of me, but I had to change my shirt.”

  He dropped his gaze pointedly toward the wine stain on her front, then looked her straight in the eyes. “Is there something you need to tell me, Hope?”

  She sank down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged, and pulled Roxy into her lap. The mutt lifted her head and licked Hope’s face.

  Since his knees weren’t all that steady, either, Lucca crossed the room and sat on the floor beside her. “You’re upset.”

  “Almost every day when the weather was nice, I took Holly to play in a park near our condo. She made friends with a group of children whose moms brought them at the same time. One of the little boys came to the park one day wearing a superhero cape, and soon every child on that playground was wearing one. Holly wanted a purple one. Purple was her color. We went to the fabric store and she picked out the fabric herself, then sat beside me while I sewed it.”

  As her hand repetitively stroked Roxy from head to tail, Hope closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “When it was finished and I held it up for her to see, she truly beamed. I had never seen her so excited about anything. Not even Christmas morning. Of course, we had to go immediately to the park. Do you know what she did the first thing?”

  “What did she do, honey?”

  “She climbed up onto a picnic bench, spread her arms, and said, “Look, Mommy. I’m going to fly!” And then she jumped off. It was only a few feet and it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d launched herself off into space by any means. But watching her, I could see disaster happening. Another little girl—a toddler—ran right into her path, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I felt sick.” A tear slipped from beneath her lashes to roll silently down her cheek. “I feel the same way now.”

  Lucca resisted the urge to touch her. “Was Holly hurt?”

  “Skinned knees. She broke the toddler’s arm.”

  Lucca winced, then blabbered a platitude that was especially stupid considering that it came from him. “Accidents happen.”

  “That they do.” She set Roxy on the floor. “And sometimes they change lives forever, don’t they?”

  He thought of bus wrecks and mangled bodies and wanted to weep right along with Hope. But then the image of a beaming Cam and glowing Sarah Murphy as they presented their little Michael for his christening flashed in his mind. “One lesson I’ve learned from my time here in Eternity Springs—and it’s a lesson you’ve taught me, Hope—is that if we focus on loss, we dishonor living. Life is a gift.”

  “Some gifts aren’t returnable.”

  For the first time since he arrived, she met his gaze. She looked scared and uncertain, and his heart twisted. “Lucca, I’m pregnant.”

  Whoa. Even though he’d expected it, hearing it made him flinch. He exhaled a heavy breath. “I thought that might be it, but I needed to hear you say it. I guess it happened our first time?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Neither of us was really thinking about …”

  “No, we weren’t. But … there’s no blame. It just happened. Maybe it happened for a reason.”

  She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. “I haven’t seen a doctor yet. I haven’t even taken a test. But I know. I think I’ve known for a couple of weeks now, but I couldn’t face it. The brussels sprouts clinched it. There were certain smells …”

  He licked his lips. “Have you thought … ah …”

  Her expression grew fierce. “I won’t have an abortion, Lucca.”

  “I was going to ask about making a doctor’s appointment. But … I’m glad.”

  She gave a desperate little laugh. “About the abortion or about the baby?”

  “Both.”

  She sprang to her feet and began to pace the room. “I’m scared to death. I can’t do this, Lucca. I can’t be a mother again. Look at how it turned out last time. No telling what disaster would befall this child. I’d probably smother her, if not literally then figuratively. She’d grow up smothered and neurotic and unhappy and hating to read.”

  “Hating to read? That’s sort of random, isn’t it?” Lucca rose and shoved his trembling hands into his pockets.

  “I’m a teacher. Reading is important to me.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Maybe if he doesn’t like to read, he’ll like B horror movies.”

  She stopped abruptly and buried her face in her hands. Now, he judged, was the time to touch her. Reaching out, he folded her into his arms. “It’s okay, honey. Honestly, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get this figured out. I want you to know that I’m a little scared myself, but I’m not unhappy about this baby. I’m honestly a little excited.”

  She shook with silent sobs. Lucca pressed a kiss against her hair and murmured, “I won’t ask you to marry me right now because these aren’t the circumstances such a question deserves. But I want you to know that you can count on me to be there for you and for the baby. Always.”

  Against his shirt, she said, “Mark asked me to marry him when I told him I was pregnant.”

  “I’m not Mark Montgomery.”

  “But I’m still me. I’ve put the cart before the horse a second time. My mother-in-law said I trap men. Your family is worried about Richard taking advantage of the family. Look at me.”

  “You’re shell-shocked and irrational.”

  “Lucca …” she protested.

  “Listen to me, Hope. I am in this for the long haul. I am not Mark Montgomery. I will love this baby. My family will be crazy happy about this pregnancy, and you know that’s true. Look, I am not perfect, but I will be the best father I can be for this baby. But when I ask you to marr
y me, Hope, you will know I’m asking because of you. Not because you are carrying my child, but because you have my heart. I will ask you to marry me because I’m in love with you.”

  When she started crying harder, Lucca wondered if he’d taken the wrong tack. He was at a loss, speaking from his heart, acting on his instincts. Whether he’d planned it or not, he had his little family right there in his arms. He had to do what was best for it.

  “Lucca, I’m so afraid,” she said. “I don’t deserve a second chance. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  He trailed his hand up and down her back soothingly. “Sure you can. And everyone deserves second chances.”

  “What are we going to do, Lucca? What do you want to do?”

  Marry you. Love you. Love our baby. “I think … we don’t need to rush. We have time to decide, time to absorb this news. I think you should dry your eyes, change your shirt, and go back to Mom’s with me. Have a piece of Celeste’s pie. It’s amazing. We can watch some football with my brothers and you can pretend you’re interested when Mom drags out the photo albums. I don’t know why, but she does it every Thanksgiving. Afterward, we can come back here and you can pack for our trip and then we’ll go to bed. I want to sleep with you tonight, Hope. I want to make love with you. I want to celebrate.”

  Her mouth trembled. “Celebrate? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Oh, Lucca.” She looked up at him, a world of hope in her luminous brown eyes as a shaky smile bloomed across her face. “I was so caught up in my reaction, I didn’t think about yours.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it before today, which was stupid of me. I was surprised.”

  “But a good surprise?”

  “Definitely a good surprise.”

  She sagged a bit in relief. He cared. He had faith in her. He wasn’t Mark. “I think I’d like to see your mother’s albums. Baby pictures of you …”

  He groaned. “I have to warn you. It’s not just pictures. She has baby porn.”

  “What!”

  “Naked babies in the bathtub. Naked kids running through the water sprinkler. What possesses a parent to take pictures of their naked kids? I swear, if she tried that nonsense today, social services would come knocking on the door. I don’t want you to do that to the peanut, Hope. I won’t have him being fourteen and having his brothers pull out the photo album as evidence for who has the bigger prick. I’m going to put my foot down about that.” He waited a beat, then added, “Of course, I always won.”