“I can work for an hour or two, but I still have to practice my speech.”
Meghan’s expression turned hard as a rock, and her left eye began to twitch, but Tracy failed to notice.
29
The Event
On Friday afternoon, Tracy arrived in Barrington. After closing Gabriel’s office door, she ran through the presentation she’d been working on for the past two weeks, and he listened. She told of how Lucas had gone through the surgery and spoke of his reaction the day the sound in his cochlear implant was first turned on. Although she remembered the torment of those moments as she’d watched and waited for even the tiniest indication he’d heard her voice, that thought was not part of her speech. At the end, Gabriel had only one comment.
“Don’t worry about covering every phase of the process; just relax and let your feelings show through the way you did that night on your mama’s front porch.”
This was a curveball for Tracy. She’d practically memorized every word of what she planned to say, and none of it was about her. She felt a fluttering inside her chest and for a moment believed it to be the wings of words trying to break free.
All afternoon, as Gabriel checked and then double-checked arrangements for the fund-raiser, Tracy tried to remember what she’d said that night. Where was the magic in the words that had suddenly gone missing?
That evening, they went back to Gabriel’s apartment and shared a pizza as he briefed her on some of the people who would be attending the following day.
“Be sure to talk to Nancy Throckmorton,” he said. “She’s one of our biggest supporters.” He described Nancy as a lady in her eighties who had a sharply pointed nose and snow-white hair.
“But what if she doesn’t like me?” Tracy asked nervously. “What if—”
Gabriel laughed and tugged her closer. “Be your own sweet self, and everyone will love you just as much as I do.”
At ten thirty, Tracy mentioned she was tired and should turn in. Gabriel agreed. Since the awards dinner, this was the first time they’d been alone together in his apartment; every other time, Lucas had been there. Earlier in the week, she’d half expected it might turn into something romantic, but now those thoughts were nowhere to be found. He seemed to be focused on last-minute details, and she was searching for the magical lost words.
Gabriel kissed her lips softly; then she headed for the small guest room that had now become familiar. As tired as she was, sleep was difficult to come by, and for hours she tossed and turned, thinking back to that night on the porch and remembering only the warmth of Gabriel’s thigh pressed close to hers and the feel of his arm curled around her shoulders. Whatever words she’d spoken that night were gone. Hopelessly and forever gone.
Saturday was spent at the school, talking with the caterer and going over the final seating arrangements. Once everything was in place, they returned to the apartment and dressed for the fund-raiser. When Tracy came from the room wearing the pale-yellow chiffon dress, he smiled.
“You look absolutely amazing,” he said and kissed her cheek.
“I don’t feel amazing,” she replied. “I’m worried about this. That night on the porch, it was just you and me; sharing what I feel with you is completely different from talking to a room full of people.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be great.” Gabriel took her hand in his. “I’ll be sitting in the front. When you tell your story, look at me and pretend there’s no one else in the room. Talk to me like you did that night.”
Referring to it as “telling her story,” as opposed to making a speech, eased her mind, but only slightly.
Before dinner, there was a cocktail hour, and with his arm looped through hers, Gabriel guided Tracy around the room, introducing her to the guests. She nodded and smiled, but even as she did so, she was trying to remember the magical words she’d somehow lost.
After what seemed an eternity, a chime sounded, and the guests turned toward the gymnasium. The athletic equipment had been cleared away and replaced with tables covered in white cloths and set with fine china brought in by the caterer. In the center of each table was a flower arrangement.
Gabriel and Tracy sat at the table closest to where a stage had been set up. Also at the table were the Throckmortons and the Blakes, two of the school’s biggest benefactors. Nancy Throckmorton switched seats with her husband and sat next to Tracy.
“I understand you have a son who is hearing impaired,” she said.
Tracy nodded. “We think Lucas may have been born deaf, but we didn’t realize it until he was almost fifteen months old.”
A sigh rattled up from Nancy’s chest. “I had a twin brother born deaf, and like your Lucas, William’s problem wasn’t discovered until he was almost two.”
Her pale-blue eyes grew misty as she spoke. “When I began to speak and William only made screeches or grunts, our papa thought something was wrong with William’s mind.” She gave a frail laugh. “That was over eighty years ago when there was little understanding of deafness.”
As the waiters began to serve the salad, Nancy placed her hand atop Tracy’s and gave an affectionate squeeze. “What you are doing is good, not only for the children who are deaf but also for the people who love them.” She pulled her hand back. “It’s a terrible thing to love someone and not be able to help them.”
In the hour that followed, salad plates were carried off and entrees served, and afterward plates of cake came with china cups for tea or coffee. Slowly, the clatter of the room stilled, and Gabriel stepped to the microphone. He spoke about the school and how they were now able to take on more students because of the community’s generous support. He shared the progress in teaching techniques and a new program of identifying words with similar sounds.
“Deafness isn’t a problem that affects just the child,” he said. “It affects the entire family.” He segued into an introduction of Tracy and called her to the stage.
As Tracy walked to the stage, her knees were wobbly and her step uncertain. She moved to the center of the platform and looked out at the audience, every face turned toward her. Suddenly she feared she had nothing of merit to say, that all the hours of practice were for naught. An icy chill shivered along her spine, and she felt an itch at the back of her neck like a rash rising out of nowhere. When she moved to the microphone and looked down at it, the thought of what Nancy had said came to mind.
It’s a terrible thing to see someone you love suffering while you stand helplessly by with no power to change it.
Tracy lifted her face, looked out into the room, focused her gaze on Nancy Throckmorton’s tear-filled eyes, and found the magical words she’d been searching for.
She shared how, at first, she’d refused to admit there was a problem and how she’d feared Lucas would go through life unable to speak words that could be understood. She talked about how she’d prayed for him to say just one word.
“Back then, I would have settled for a single word,” she said, “but because of what the Hawke School has done, my prayer has been answered a million times over.”
When her presentation was finished and she stepped back from the microphone, the guests rose from their chairs with a round of thunderous applause. Moments after she returned to her seat, Nancy again took Tracy’s hand in hers. She leaned in, kissed her cheek, and said, “The school is blessed to have you as a spokesperson, my dear.”
That night, the pledges and donations were greater than ever before, and after an icy glare from his wife, Gregory Throckmorton doubled his contribution of the previous year.
It was nearly midnight when Tracy and Gabriel finally left the school. By then, the guests were long gone, the last goodbyes had been said, and the workmen were loading stacks of folding chairs into the caterer’s truck. The heat of the day had dissipated, and the cool night air felt good against Tracy’s shoulders.
“Let’s walk home,” she suggested.
Leaving the car in the parking lot behind the school, they walked the fourte
en blocks to his apartment with Gabriel’s arm around her waist and her head tilted toward his shoulder. As they crossed over Main Street, he leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She turned and smiled. The strange thing was she also felt beautiful.
When they arrived at the apartment, Gabriel pulled a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and filled two crystal glasses.
“To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said and touched his flute to hers.
Tracy’s heart swelled as that moment became part of her forever. She knew that even if she lived ten thousand years, she would always remember the happiness she felt right then. The tinkling sound of crystal rippled through the air as she lifted the glass to her lips.
For a long while, they sat on the sofa and talked about the evening, skipping past the sizable increase in contributions and focusing instead on the way she’d moved Nancy Throckmorton to tears.
“You have a gift,” he said, “one that shouldn’t be wasted sitting at a computer. Few people can open their hearts the way you did tonight.”
“You make it easy for me to open my heart . . .” The remainder of her words drifted away. There was more to the thought, but she decided to wait, hoping he would be the one to ask.
When the clock chimed two, he stood and held his hand out for her.
“Tracy, please come to my room and be with me tonight.”
She dipped her head ever so slightly, then looked up and smiled. He took her hand in his, and together they walked down the hall into the master bedroom.
That was the first time Gabriel made love to her. He kissed her mouth, then ran a trail of tender kisses along her neck as he pressed his hand to her back and brought her to him. He was slow and easy, touching her gently, whispering sweet words as he traced his fingertip along her collarbone and across the curve of her shoulder. There was none of the hungry wanting she’d known with Dominic; this was a different kind of lovemaking, one that promised tomorrow and a lifetime of happiness.
Afterward, they lay together, his arm curled around her, her head resting against the edge of his shoulder.
“Do you think you could be happy with me?” he asked.
She gave an almost musical laugh. “I already am,” she said and snuggled deeper into his arms.
Placing his fingertips beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his, tenderly traced the curve of her cheek, then asked, “Forever?”
Tracy hesitated for a fraction of a second, thinking perhaps the specter of Dominic, who’d haunted her for years, would again raise its ugly head, but this time it didn’t. It was gone. Completely gone.
“Yes,” she whispered, “forever.” She smiled and brought her mouth to his.
The clock struck five, and the first rays of light were feathering the sky when they finally fell asleep, their breaths evenly matched and their bodies pressed together so close that it would be impossible to find a point of separation.
30
Tracy Briggs
I am deliriously happy and can’t help myself. Yes, I know Meghan is mad at me, and I’m sorry I disappointed her by letting the schedule get messed up. But let’s be honest—an ad moving from one week to the next is not the end of the world. To me, helping Gabriel grow a school where kids like Lucas learn to talk is more important.
Last night, speaking at that fund-raiser, I felt like I was doing something worthwhile. I don’t feel that way when I’m working at the Snip ’n Save. I like designing ads, but the truth is, it’s nowhere near the same as helping kids have a better life.
Meghan always talks about how much Daddy loved the Snip ’n Save, but I don’t ever remember him saying that. It could be she’s the one who’s got it all wrong. Maybe Daddy felt the same as me, that the Snip ’n Save is just a magazine full of ads, not a living, breathing thing.
I understand why Meghan wants to keep working with animals. It’s the same as me loving my work at the school. Helping kids or animals have a better life makes you feel good about what you’re doing.
Last night, I got to thinking that if she loves working with Tom and I’m happiest being here with Gabriel, maybe it’s time for us to let go of the Snip ’n Save.
That’s what I think, but knowing how Meghan feels, I’d never have the guts to suggest it. If I did, she’d probably go ballistic. She wants me to love the Snip ’n Save like she does, but I don’t. She believes loving the Snip ’n Save is the same as loving Daddy, but I disagree. I know Daddy would want us both to be happy doing whatever we love.
I wish Meghan could be glad for how happy I am right now. Gabriel is the kind of man you dream of having fall in love with you. He’s gentle and caring, and when he says he loves me, he means it—not just because it’s a moment of passion, but for always.
It was never like this with Dominic, not even in the beginning. The first time we slept together, it was in the back seat of his car. He came from work, sweaty and smelling like beer. Instead of whispering in my ear about how he loved me, he was busy yanking my clothes off and saying how much he wanted me. Wanting someone is a lot different from loving them. It’s a shame it took me all these years to figure that out.
Falling in love with the wrong man is like drinking beer and telling yourself it’s champagne. I used to dream one day Dominic would come begging me to marry him; now I wouldn’t have him if he were served on a silver platter.
After last night, I think Gabriel is going to ask me to marry him, and if he does, I will say yes right then and there. When you’ve got a prince at your door, it’s downright stupid to keep worrying about the frog you left behind.
31
The Search
Floyd Tompkins was old school, a man reluctant to put too much of his trust in the results of an internet search, especially when it proved fruitless. When his initial search for Dominic DeLuca and/or Tracy Briggs turned up nothing of interest to him, he headed over to the Magnolia Grove County Clerk’s office. After plowing through five years of marriage records, he still had nothing. On the off chance he’d overlooked some small detail, he returned to the office and googled their names again. This time Tracy Briggs came up in an article published in the Barrington Post.
She’d recently spoken at a fund-raiser for the Hawke School. Floyd pulled up the article and read it through. There were two excerpts from the presentation; the second one told how her son, Lucas, was born deaf.
Floyd printed out the article and the picture of Tracy standing with the Throckmortons and Gabriel Hawke, founder of the school. He now had the kid’s name and a picture of the girl.
Two days later, he flew to Philadelphia. He’d thought of cutting back on the expenses by simply making a few phone calls, but Alice DeLuca had said not to scrimp on what it took to learn the truth. Floyd knew from experience that the truth was easier to discern when he was looking a person in the eye.
He now had a name, so he started with a search of birth records. He typed in “Lucas DeLuca” and found nothing. He then tried “Lucas Briggs” and came up with a hit. A boy born five years ago on June 10. This was the kid he was looking for. He pulled a copy of the birth certificate, looked it over, then gave a grunt of annoyance. The father’s name was not listed, only the mother: Tracy Briggs.
Floyd thought of his own birth certificate. It listed both mother and father, even though his daddy had disappeared before Floyd was old enough to call out his name. Maybe Tracy Briggs suspected something like that was in the wind; maybe she left the space blank rather than give the boy a daddy who’d go missing in a matter of months. Although his job was simply to report the verifiable findings, he couldn’t help feeling sympathetic toward Tracy, and less so toward Dominic.
Figuring there was a chance he might be wrong about Dominic DeLuca, he searched the marriage records for a year before and two years after Lucas’s birth. There was nothing.
“Scumbag,” he grumbled as he trudged over to the clerk’s desk to pay for his prin
tout of the birth certificate. Floyd folded the copy and slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket along with the picture of Tracy; then he stepped out onto the street and hailed a cab.
His next stop was 421 Adams Court, the address listed on Lucas’s birth certificate. He scanned the names on the doorbells, then pushed the one that read “building manager.”
The intercom crackled, and Jose Rodriguez answered with a gruff, “What?”
“I’m looking for information on a tenant,” Floyd said. “Tracy Briggs, or possibly she went by DeLuca.”
“Nobody here by that name.”
“She lived here a while back. Two, maybe three years?”
“I been here a year and never heard of her.”
“Is there somebody else I can—”
The intercom clicked off before Floyd could finish his question.
The building wasn’t all that big; surely somebody would remember Tracy and Dominic. He tried the lobby door. Locked. Running his finger along the doorbell nametags, he noticed some that were yellowed. Those tenants had been here awhile and would most likely know. He was about to buzz Fred Molinari when he saw the elderly woman coming across the courtyard with two large grocery bags. He pulled the outside door open.
“Here, let me help you with those,” he said and lifted the bags from the woman’s arms.
Evelyn Ross smiled. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing.”
Floyd followed her through the lobby door and rode up in the elevator with her. When they stopped on the fourth floor, he walked alongside Evelyn, carrying both bags.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, making it sound almost as if he lived in the building. “Have you lived here long?”
“Nineteen years,” she said as she opened the apartment door and held it back for him. “Georgia and I came just after the building was refurbished.”
“Georgia?”
A Year of Extraordinary Moments (A Magnolia Grove Novel) Page 10