The Gazebo

by Kimberly Cates

  “It’s, uh, Tank, Miss Trula,” Rizzo said, tugging at his shirt collar.

  “Why, thank you for reminding me of that, Theodore. I do forget things now and then.”

  Lucy affectionately grabbed her husband’s hand. “So what are you two drama queens going to do tonight?” she asked Emma and Trula.

  Trula stopped to consider. “I thought before dinner I’d start Emma out with some combinations Twyla Tharp designed specifically for me.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Deirdre began, “but I don’t think Emma—”

  “Twyla…” Emma cut her off. “You mean the Twyla Tharp?”

  Trula did Jake’s eyebrow trick. “I hardly think there could be more than one.”

  “She’s the most gifted choreographer alive, in Trula’s humble opinion,” Stone said. “She can go on about it for hours.”

  “Twyla is an original,” Trula informed her audience. “Just as I am. That’s why we adored each other on sight. True originals are depressingly rare in the world of the stage. However, if I were to hazard a guess looking at you, Emma dear, you stand a fair chance of becoming an original, too.”

  Nothing original about this kid at all, Jake thought. She’s as damned mule stubborn as the rest of her family. It was part of the reason he liked the kid so much.

  “Of course, I was hoping to pass my knowledge on to someone deserving,” Trula said, playing it to the hilt. “I am getting older, dear. I won’t be around forever. What a shame, should Twyla’s brilliance be lost. But maybe you should spend this evening just running those tedious lines until they’re dull as sawdust in your mouth.”

  “No!” Emma piped up, obviously surprising even herself with her eagerness. “I…I’d love to learn some dance steps. Really.”

  “Well then,” Trula said with a flourish, sweeping Emma toward the sliding glass doors. “To the stage.”

  “Thank God,” Deirdre breathed, looking visibly relieved as her daughter disappeared inside.

  Lucy grinned. “I feel like we all should applaud.”

  “I think Trula deserves an Oscar,” Jake said, marveling at the old woman’s panache.

  “No way,” Tank grumped. “No Oscars. I can just hear her announcing over international TV, ‘…and a special thanks to Theodore Patsy Rizzo.’ The guys at the station house would turn my life into a living hell.”

  They all laughed. Deirdre seemed to have quit grinding her tooth enamel to dust. Jake blessed the old woman for her skill at handling pouting teenage drama queens, and hoped he’d have half Trula’s luck putting Deirdre at ease.

  “Remind me to thank your grandmother for that.” Deirdre slipped her hand into Stone’s. “Emma’s moved from playing Juliet onstage to performing the death scene from Camille in real life. I was scared to death she’d turn today into a disaster.”

  Jake felt Lucy watching them. He tried not to show how much Deirdre’s simple act of trust moved him as he curled his fingers protectively around her smaller ones.

  “No worries,” he said. “Trula’s got a real gift. Besides, I bribed her to keep Emma busy the rest of the night.”

  “Maybe,” Tank warned, “but that Trula strikes a hard bargain.”

  Jake grinned at his best friend. “The way I figure it, I’m gonna be eating lunch at the pink house every afternoon until I’m eighty.”

  “Yoo-hoo! Rizzos!” A woman’s voice called from the street. Stone felt Deirdre stiffen, release his hand. Feeling an odd sense of loss, he looked up to see a Barbie doll in a lavender-colored running suit jogging by, her white-blond hair caught back by a matching sweat band. “Lucy, if you eat one of those burgers you’ll have to run for a week to work off the calories!”

  “Yeah, well, I think I’ll risk it, Liz,” Lucy called back, glancing back at Deirdre and crossing her eyes. “The woman’s obsessed,” Lucy whispered to Deirdre under her breath. But before she could finish, Liz shrieked in excitement.

  “Don’t tell me that’s Deirdre McDaniel right here in my very own neighborhood!”

  Stone glanced at Deirdre. Her tooth enamel was toast.

  “Hi, Liz,” Deirdre said with forced ease. “It’s been a long time.”

  Not nearly long enough, Stone guessed, considering Deirdre’s expression. He hated Barbie on sight. And not just because her untimely arrival had made Deirdre let go of his hand. Stone figured the feeling wasn’t mutual considering the way Liz’s beady mascara-clad eyes raked over him.

  “I’ve been trying to get these last few pesky pounds off before the class reunion.” Liz planted her hands on her teensy little waist. “A bunch of us are going to wear our senior prom dresses. You know, show we’ve still got those cheerleader shapes all the guys drooled over.”

  Stone wished the woman would run into the path of an obliging semi.

  “Why, who on earth is this gorgeous man?” Liz asked, giving Stone a come-hither smile.

  “I’m Deirdre’s date.” Stone closed the space between them and slipped his arm casually around Deirdre’s waist. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t take exception to what he’d done and elbow him hard in the ribs.

  But she actually seemed to edge a little closer to him.

  “You are coming to the reunion, aren’t you, Deirdre?” Liz cooed as if the question was a no-brainer and the reunion was the social event of the century.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah,” Stone said. “We’re pretty busy.” Deirdre flashed him a quelling glance. He took a step back, taking his toes out of stomping distance. But hell, he wished they could get busy with all that kissing, touching and tasting he was still hoping would lead her to the big bang theory of orgasms.

  “But you have to come. Both of you!” Liz actually seemed distressed.

  Stone tried to look as if he hadn’t just been thinking about sex. From Tank’s sly look on the other side of the grill, he figured his friend had pegged him dead to rights. And Lucy—she was looking downright suspicious.

  “Peter Jessup and the guys are getting the band back together to play,” Liz said. “They’re really good. We’re trying to feature people in little vignettes, like we did in the yearbook…you know, ‘First To Marry a Doctor,’ ‘First Boy To Lose His Hair,’ ‘The Girl Most Likely To Become Famous.’”

  “I was ‘the first girl likely to be knocked up’ in my high school,” Lucy said. She looked from Jake to Deirdre to Liz, obviously bewildered at the sudden strange expressions on their faces.

  Jake tried to think of some quick comeback to get the spotlight off Deirdre, but all he could think of was this witch of a cheerleader giggling with her friends as Deirdre walked past in the hall, her books balanced on her growing belly.

  Thank God Tank was quick on the uptake, jumping in with his Italian good humor. “Considering I got you pregnant the day after we got married, I guess I came through.”

  Jake gave him a wan but grateful smile. The corners of Deirdre’s mouth tipped up.

  Liz regained her composure and flashed Stone a smile. “Deirdre was really something in high school. When she sang—well, it was spectacular. When my yearbook committee was picking for the different categories, ‘Most Likely To Be Famous’ wasn’t even a question. We all expected to hear her on our radios someday.”

  “Yeah, well, it seems like another lifetime ago,” Deirdre said.

  “Thank God,” Lucy said. “I wouldn’t go back to high school for a million dollars.”

  “I would, Lucy,” Tank said. “You were hot. I spent so much time in confession for impure thoughts, I about wore out my knees. But, hey, my intentions were honorable. I married you the day after graduation and I’m still having impure thoughts about you.”

  “Father Casey must be so proud,” Lucy said, evidently picking up on Deirdre’s discomfort. “Really, Liz. You’d better get your run in before—”

  Liz astonished Stone, her plastic face softening a little, as if she really were a little bit sorry. Maybe Barbie had remembered tormenting Deirdre and she’d mo
ved up on the evolutionary scale at least enough to feel a little bit ashamed.

  “Deirdre, I know things weren’t great when you were…well, your senior year. But people really have been asking about you. Come to the reunion and sing. Everybody will be dying to hear you. They’re already going to be disappointed. The most valuable athlete isn’t going to be able to make it. He’s in the middle of moving his medical practice or some such.”

  Stone sensed a flicker in Deirdre, something sharp, cutting. Relief? Regret? He thought about what she’d told him, that last hellish year of high school, growing more pregnant every day. He could imagine the whispers,the cruelty, how much it had hurt this proud woman he’d grown to…what had he told Tank? Kinda love?

  She deserved to walk back among her classmates, looking like a queen with her head held high. He’d sweep her into the room on his arm and charm the whole god-damned room, make damn sure every woman there wished to be in Deirdre’s place, and every man envied Stone the woman they’d whispered was a slut.

  Oh, yeah. Deirdre’s last year in high school might have been miserable. But if it took Stone’s last cent he’d make sure at this reunion, his Deirdre was damned well going to shine.

  He turned her toward him, smiled down into her eyes. “What do you say?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not famous,” Deirdre murmured for his ears only. “I don’t even have a husband to show off.”

  “How about a really hot date? Come on. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

  Deirdre’s throat worked. Her lips trembled. Stone bumped his thumb up under her chin, nudging her until her head was held high.

  Blue eyes held his long moments. Then she smiled. “Just remember, I can’t dance.”

  “Wanna bet?” Stone twirled her out, then swooped her into his arms.

  Lucy and Tank burst into applause. Deirdre laughed, looking back at Liz.

  “We’ll be there,” she said.

  From the moment Reunion-Hell Barbie jogged off, Deirdre relaxed. Stone delighted in watching her animated face, listening to her snappy comebacks as she traded jokes with Tank and asked Lucy about the books she’d written. Maybe there was still a little tension underneath Deirdre’s sparkle, but Jake bet he was the only one who knew it.

  The burgers were burnt, the hot dogs cold in the middle and the tomatoes Lucy and Deirdre sliced were frog green. Stone could never remember a meal he’d enjoyed more.

  He smiled across the table at Deirdre, amazed at how strong she was, how funny and bright with her take-no-prisoners sense of humor. He felt so damned proud to know she was here with him. This night was worlds different from those times years ago when Jessica had been at this same house, looking down at the benches as if she was afraid the splinters might snag her silk pants or one of the boys might smear dirt on her skin.

  She’d thought the Rizzos far beneath her social standing. After all, she was the chief of police’s only daughter. The wife of the star pupil of the police academy. Her husband was the force’s best and the brightest. It wasn’t that she wanted to be snobbish, she’d assured Jake, peering up at him with big green eyes. It was just the way things were done at her daddy’s house.

  Blinded by Jessica’s neediness that made him feel strong, wanting to build the family he’d never had, Jake had made excuses for her. She was very young. Overprotected. It wasn’t her fault her parents had filled her head with that garbage. There was no question she worshiped Jake. Told him time and again he was everything she could ever ask for. She just knew he’d take care of her.

  And he wanted to. God, how he’d wanted to take care of someone then. His wife, his kids, even a damned dog. Sure, Jessica was a little self-absorbed, he’d told Trula when the old woman had been less than thrilled about his engagement. But Jessica would grow out of it. Once they were in their own house, raising their own babies, she’d be able to see the world from his perspective—realize Trula was a treasure and the Rizzos were solid gold.

  He grimaced, remembering the arrogant dope he’d been, so damned sure life would go along exactly the way he planned. But nothing about his marriage was the way he’d pictured it.

  Jessica’s attitude toward the Rizzos had only gotten worse as she watched Lucy go through her frequent pregnancies, faintly repulsed by a process that left Jake awe-struck. Maybe his marriage had been doomed long before he lost his badge, when Jessica made it plain she didn’t want to have his babies.

  She wasn’t going to turn into a baby factory like Lucy Rizzo, she’d informed him after J. J. Rizzo’s birth. Jake was never home, anyway; he was always on the job. She’d be the one stuck with dirty diapers and baby barf staining all her clothes. She wasn’t going to be a drudge and waste her life like that.

  Was it hurt? Anger? Or just brutal honesty that had made Jake snap, tell Jessica that she wasn’t worthy to wash Lucy Rizzo’s dishes. Truth was, he’d mourned the loss of his badge far more than the loss of his wife. And if the gunshot that detonated his career had cost him the friendship of Tank and Lucy—that would have been the greatest heartbreak of all.

  But Deirdre was Jessica’s complete opposite—real in a way those china-doll types never could be. She’s a woman’s woman, he could hear Lucy say. Her highest compliment of all.

  The kind of woman a gem like Lucy could respect.

  But it was obvious the feeling was mutual. Stone could see how much Deirdre respected his friends. And for the first time since he’d lost his badge he closed his eyes, imagined cooking out on his own grill, at his own house, with his own wife warning him he was going to burn the hamburgers.

  He could even see a couple of little girls mixing it up with Rizzos’ brood. Deirdre’s daughters? Hell, yes, they’d hold their own.

  Lucy scooped up a stack of plates, starting for the house, as Deirdre bundled half-empty glasses and bottles of ketchup and mustard onto a tray that read, I’m The Mom, That’s Why.

  Jake watched the two women disappear into the house. His jaw knotted. Maybe if he told Deirdre about his past she would understand what he’d done. Maybe she’d even be glad…glad that what? He’d taken his future on the police force and thrown it away? He’d flushed away all the respect he’d earned. The pride he’d seen in his step-grandfather’s eyes? He’d never wanted to mention another word to anyone about what had happened in that dark, despair-filled crime scene. And he’d never felt a pinprick of goddamned self-pity over the whole fiasco.

  Until he watched Deirdre McDaniel tonight.

  Suddenly he was aware of heavy silence. Stone turned and glared at his best friend.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Jake grumbled. “This is headline-news material—Tank Rizzo keeping his mouth shut.”

  “I was just thinking. It must be love, buddy, if you’re putting yourself through going to her high school reunion.”

  “Might as well.” Stone shrugged. “I sure as hell won’t be going to any of my own. I don’t think they’d exactly roll out the red carpet for me at this year’s Policeman’s Ball.” Jake regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, but there was no way to take them back.

  They hit Tank with sledgehammer force, driving all merriment from his eyes, replacing it with dark brooding so quickly it betrayed the big Italian’s secret. That sometimes at night he still thought about what had gone down in that miserable dark apartment eight years ago. Rizzo’s jaw clenched. “Jake, if I could change what happened…”

  But there was no going back for either one of them. Not now. Not ever.

  He clapped his hand on his friend’s back, his voice strong, sure. “Don’t even think about it, Theodore. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  CHAPTER 15

  DISHES WERE WASHED, food put away, Lucy Rizzo’s cheery kitchen sparkling clean and so warm Deirdre wished she could sit there forever. The picnic had been an unqualified success, Trula performing a minor miracle by maneuvering Emma into talking to Jake about the time Trula had gotten him a brief gig as a child actor.
<
br />   “I stunk,” Stone had admitted, winking at Emma. “But when you get in front of the camera, kid, you won’t. Trula’s right. Whatever ‘it’ is, you’ve definitely got it.”

  Emma had actually smiled, the old dreams shining bright in her eyes, and Deirdre had dared to hope somehow Drew Lawson might fade to the background.

  And Emma would go to New York. Leave March Winds and her mother and the small town of Whitewater behind.

  Deirdre tried not to think about how quiet the house would be—how empty her life would be without her little girl. She crossed to the refrigerator that obviously served as the Rizzo family art gallery.

  The boys’ paintings were stuck on the shiny white surface with magnets of all shapes and sizes, while Lucite-covered photographs gleamed, rich with color, under a row of rainbow colored magnetic alphabet letters that said Rogues’ Gallery.

  Deirdre perused the photos of the Rizzo family, trying not to feel too envious of the easy camaraderie of the brothers, the obvious love and security to be found in Lucy’s houseful of men.

  Lucy had shots of all the boys at different ages, in diapers and taking a community bath, lined up like little stair steps, from oldest to youngest. A much-younger Lucy in a simple, white knee-length dress beamed over what must be her wedding bouquet, while Tank, in his dress army uniform grinned like he’d won the lottery.

  Deirdre wondered if he knew that he really had. A new bride. Life as a spy. It didn’t get much better than that.

  Maybe there is such a thing as a happy family, Deirdre thought wistfully. Cade had created one. It was obvious Tank and Lucy had. But then, Finn and Lucy were warm, Earth Mother types. Nothing at all like her.

  Deirdre tried not to mind too much, distracting herself by viewing the rest of the Rizzo’s treasured pictures. Jake was in three of the shots—half-naked and full of sawdust as he and Tank knocked out a wall to make the kitchen more spacious, swinging from a tree as he and Tank hung a Tarzan swing. Another, the shot a bit fuzzy, showed Tank and—God, was that Stone?—with their heads shaved completely bald!