“I’m fine. Really. I’m already an hour on the road.”
“Okay. Should I leave the door unlocked?”
“Yes, I need to see you tonight… Nick, I have some things I need to say.”
Pause. “I have some things I need to say, too, Alex… some things I want to say.”
Her chest tightened. “I’ll see you as soon as I can. Good-bye, Nick.”
Click.
She dialed Norman Kraziak’s direct office line next. “Norman Kraziak speaking.”
“Norman,” she breathed, feeling a mixture of guilt and relief when she heard his voice.
“Alex? Is that you? I can hardly hear you,” he half yelled.
“It’s my cell phone. Look Norman, did you talk to a man named Eric Haines?”
“I did. He said you worked for some big real estate development company in Virginia and you were looking to develop Restalline.”
If there’d been any food in her stomach, she would have thrown up right then, all over the steering wheel of her car. “Norman—”
“Is that true, Alex? Were you just using the book thing as a cover so you could get information about all of us, about our town, so we’d let down our guard and talk?”
It sounded so devious when he said it, so underhanded. “It wasn’t… I never meant to…”
“It’s okay, I still like you. Actually, I’m grateful you came. This Eric offered me a deal for both companies, Alex. Three times market value, can you believe it? Who would have thought?”
“Norman, do you really want to sell? Think about it; what would happen to the rest of the community? If Restalline Millworks and NK Manufacturing are gone, what happens to the jobs, the people?”
Nick?
“Oh, well, your man told me they’d all be taken care of, offered a good deal, said a lot of people are just waiting for an opportunity to start over and your company was giving it to them. That’s kind of how I’m looking at it, Alex. They’ll all get a chance to start over, better themselves.”
“But Norman—”
“You’re breaking up on me, Alex, I can’t hear you very well.”
“Nick!” she shouted. “Please don’t tell Nick!”
“Ah, now that’s a problem, you and Nick, isn’t it? I’ll tell you, he’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this.”
“Please don’t say anything to him, Norman. Please!”
“You want to tell him? Fine by me. I don’t relish being in your shoes, Alex, not one bit.”
***
It was a little past two in the morning when Alex opened the back door. Nick had left the stove light on for her. She slipped off her shoes and moved to the staircase.
Home
, this place felt more like home to her than her condo in Virginia. Maybe it was the comfortable furniture, tweeds and oak, worn and slightly soiled around the arms with homemade afghans strewn about, that invited her to sit down, stretch out, relax. Or perhaps it was the photographs of Justin hanging on the walls as he progressed from infant to just shy of eight, at first toothless, then one, two, then two whole rows, then a missing one, two… Or maybe this place felt like home because little by little she was shedding all the ‘must and must nots’ that had molded her entire life and finally, finally, she was stretching…stretching…reaching out to Nick…to Justin…to Stella…. to Gracie…to Norman…even to Ruth…
Alex climbed the stairs, opened Justin’s door, listened. His quiet, steady breathing filled her ears, gripped her heart. She closed his door and moved down the hall to Nick’s room. A sliver of moon slid through a gap in the curtains, casting a faint glow on the bed. He was asleep on his side, his back to her.
I need you, I need you now, Nick
… She pulled off her shirt, shrugged out of her shorts, panties, bra, letting them fall in a heap at her feet.
I’m sorry
… She approached the bed, eased under the covers,
I’m sorry
… She touched his hair, his neck…
I’m so sorry
… She leaned into him, let the heat of his body permeate hers…
I never meant to hurt you… I… I…
She wrapped her arm around him, pressed her hand against his heart …
never… I love you.
“Alex.” Her name came out on a half-mumbled sigh as he reached for her, pulled her on top of him. “Alex.” This spoken with such tenderness, such raw emotion that her throat clogged up and she couldn’t find the words to respond. She bent her head, brushed her lips over his mouth, once, twice, until he tightened his grip and deepened the kiss, his tongue mating with hers in soft, almost reverent, gentleness.
I’m sorry…I love you…I’m sorry…I love you…
“Nick,” she began, “I…need to talk to you—”
“I need to talk to you too,” he murmured against her mouth, his fingers sifting through her hair, dragging down her spine. “Later.”
“But—”
He flipped her onto her back, nudged her legs open and entered her with one swift thrust. Heat surged through her. “Didn’t you ever learn, Alex”—he stroked her cheek, pushed a lock of hair from her face—“that there’s a time to talk and a time”—he moved inside of her, slow, long, deep—“not to?”
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Justin, happy birthday to you!”
Justin sucked in a deep breath, then blew out the candles, all eight of them, with one big whoosh of air. He beamed, a half-toothed grin on his face. “I made my wish, Dad,” he said.
“Oh?” Nick nodded, acting as though he had no idea what that wish could possibly be. But anyone who even had a remote acquaintance with Justin knew the boy had been begging for the same thing for three years now. Man’s best friend, a four-legged little creature who would learn how to catch a Frisbee, fetch sticks from the lake, run the fields with him, sleep at the foot of his bed on a blue-and-red rug, be his pal.
“What did you wish for, Justie?” This from Gracie standing at the foot of the table, holding Rudy Jr.
“Yeah, what?” Kevin leaned forward, peeked around the chocolate sheet cake.
Justin grinned, nodded. “You all know, well, maybe the only one who doesn’t is Alex.” He looked at her. “Dad said when I was eight I could get a dog.”
“I said when you were eight we could
talk
about getting a dog because you’d be older and more responsible.” He winked at Alex.
“Right.” Justin fidgeted in his chair, half stood, sat back down. “Well, am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Geez, Dad.” He rolled his eyes, blew out a long breath. “Older and more responsible?”
Nick scratched his chin, rubbed his jaw. He was probably as excited about the bundle of fur in a box on the front porch as Justin… a black Lab, seven weeks old. Nick couldn’t wait to see the look on his son’s face when he opened the box, held the pup in his arms. “Hmm? Grandma? What do you think?”
Stella laughed, folded her arms across her chest. “I think if you don’t stop tormenting this boy soon, he’s going to fly out of his seat.”
“Justin,” Nick tried to sound stern, but the gentleness in his voice slipped out. “There’s a box for you on the front porch.”
Justin tore out of his chair, almost toppling it over, ran to the front door, swung it open, and let out a hoot. Nick, Alex, Stella, Gracie, and the rest of the family followed. “Look at him,” Justin squealed, lifting the pup out of the box. “He’s so black, and … furry.”
“What are you gonna call him?” Kevin asked, inching forward.
“Jet.”
“Jet,” Stella repeated. “As in jet black.”
“Yeah, Grandma, Jet Black. Cool, huh? That’s his name, Jet Black Androvich.” Justin buried his face against the puppy’s neck, rubbed his cheek along its coat.
“Well, why don’t we bring Jet Black Androvich inside, in his box?” Nick said. “I want a piece of Grandma’s chocolate cake.” For all the years to come, this would most likely be Justin’s most remembered gift.
“Okay. Let’s go, Jet.” Justin looked the puppy in the eye. “We’ll get you some water and food. Dad? Did you get food, too?”
“What do you think?” Nick asked, pointing to a corner of the porch. “I’ve never met a baby, human or otherwise, that didn’t want to eat.”
“Can I—”
“After. Let’s go.” Nick started to head back inside, reached for Alex’s hand, pulled her to him. “I did good, didn’t I?”
She smiled. “You did good.”
“Do you remember your first pet?”
Alex nodded, avoided his gaze. “It was Daisy. First and last.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
The cat that climbed a tree and got farmed out to a golf course. “Nothing else? Not even a fish?”
“No.”
Oh.
The more time he spent with her, the more snippets of information slipped out here and there, telling him more than she probably wanted him to know. A child who was forced to give up her pet because… why?
Why, other than the fact that it was probably an inconvenience for the aunt?
And who was this uncle she refused to talk about, never even called him by his first name, just said,
my uncle
? What was his deal? And the aunt? No cousins, no mother, no father? He’d tried to ask her about it once, but she’d clammed up, said her parents were both dead and her aunt and uncle were her only family. The Androvich clan must be a shock to her, an adjustment to say the least, though she seemed to like being around his mother and Gracie, and didn’t seem as terrified of the baby this week as she had last. Tonight, she’d actually held Rudy Jr., just for a few minutes, but still…
Alex Chamberlain was in his blood, pulsing through his veins with a life of its own. He wanted to be near her, touch her, talk to her, learn everything about her, gain her trust, her friendship, her love.
Yes, damn it
, he tightened his hold on her hand—he wanted her love.
Was he crazy? She was a difficult, reclusive woman who might give her body to him but certainly hadn’t opened up her heart or her past to him. He knew bits and pieces about her—she was well-educated, she lived in Virginia, drove a Saab, so what? He knew more about his neighbors and he hadn’t slept with any of them.
And she was leaving in a few weeks, wasn’t she? And then what? A long distance romance relegated to weekends or off-call schedules? How long would that last? Hell, he was only kidding himself. He didn’t want her to leave, he wanted her to stay here, be with him… love him. Alex was a city girl, she liked fine things, any woman who wore pearls with jeans wouldn’t understand a man who accepted food and repairs to his home for medical care. Apple pies didn’t buy diamonds. And she’d expect diamonds.
Nick’s hand slipped away.
“Nick?” Her voice was soft, low. The buzz of his family faded into the background.
He looked down at her, said nothing. The pearls around her neck glowed in the soft light.
She smiled, a small hesitant smile. “I… I wonder what Justin will think of that doghouse you’re going to build for Jet.”
“I don’t know.” How the hell could she think of a doghouse right now when he was so agitated, so miserable?
“I’d love to see his face when you tell him how elaborate it’s going to be.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to tell him until I can start it, and that’s a good two, maybe three months off, probably late fall.”
“I know, you told me that already.” She paused, reached for his hand, her gaze meeting his. “I’d still love to be here when you tell him.”
She was torturing him. “I’m sure you’d love to be here but the truth is, we both know you won’t be, so let’s stop pretending. You’ll be long gone by then.”
“I…” Her eyes grew bright. “I don’t want to leave, Nick.”
They stood there in the corner of the room, oblivious to the laughter and chatter that flowed around them as Justin ripped open one present after another, with Jet and his box by his side. “What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
“I don’t want to leave.” Her face turned a dull red. “I mean”—she looked away—“if you want me to stay, see how things work out…” She glanced back at him.
“Alex, I don’t live the kind of life you’re used to… it’s not me.”
Her lips trembled when she spoke. “It’s not me anymore, either.”
Nick pulled her to him, kissed her, long, hard, deep. “Stay, Alex,” he breathed against her lips, “stay.”
In the middle of the room, Stella Androvich watched her son and Alex. “She’s the one, Gracie. I told you, she’s the one.”
“What do you think, Mom? Three months? Four before he proposes?”
Stella smiled, wiped her hands on her apron. “Months? I’d say more like days.”
***
Alex would always remember Justin’s eighth birthday. It was the day his wish came true—he got Jet. It was also the day Nick asked her to stay in Restalline… be a part of his life. There was so much to talk about, so much for her to explain, but he’d been called away on an emergency and she’d ended up taking Justin and Jet home, then lying on Nick’s couch, listening to the clock on the mantel tick away the minutes, waiting with Jet sleeping in his box by her side. At 12:15 a.m. Nick had called to say Harry Lendergin was having emergency gallbladder surgery.
I’m staying with Tilly and Marie until Harry comes out of surgery. I’ll be a while, why don’t you get some rest?
I can’t sleep… there are things I have to tell you… explain to you...that I should have said before.
I know. Me, too. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?
I… okay.
Click.
Sleep had come sometime after 3:00 a.m., a restless slumber haunted by visions of Nick, first laughing, holding her hand, kissing her, then jerking back, his face dark, his body tense, then turning away and leaving… leaving…
Nick! Nick! I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I was going to tell you…
Alex jerked awake.
“Hey, Alex.” Justin sat on the floor beside her, dressed in a Nike T-shirt and boxers. “You okay?”
She sat up, scrubbed both hands over her face.
“Alex?”
“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”
“About what?”
About your father finding out I lied to him.
“Huh?” She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to find Nick, tell him the truth… and pray he’d still want her to stay.
“What was the bad dream about?” He leaned closer, his blue eyes intent on her.
She shrugged. “Some guy was chasing me.”
What was one more lie?
“Do you ever dream about your parents?”
“I used to, not anymore.”
“Did you”—his gaze fixed on his fingers, he picked a piece of skin—“ever dream about how they died? Like, you know, wonder about it, try to picture it?” He shot a quick glance in her direction, then dodged back down to his fingers.
“I…” Suddenly, she was eight again, staring out through the big window, waiting for her mother and father to come home…only they never did. “I used to.”
He nodded, scratched at his nail, “Me, too.” Pause. “Dad says the smoke got her, put her to sleep before… before… you know.” He pulled his teeth over his lower lip. “Are you afraid of water ’cause… you know, ’cause of what happened to them?”
If he could be so honest, so could she. “Yes.”
He jerked his head up, stared at her. “Really?”
“I’m petrified, actually.” She ran her hands over the wrinkles in her pants, tried to smooth them out. “Haven’t been in the water for ten years.” Not since the failed scuba certification Uncle Walter had persuaded her to undertake. He’d been convinced from the outset that if she faced her fears she would defeat them. Alex had been enrolled in every swimming program available, starting the month after the accident. Scuba diving was the final step in her uncle’s attempt to prove to her that water was not to be feared. But she’d choked fifteen feet down, with the mask in her hand, filling with water as she kicked and flailed her arms, the air piece falling out of her mouth. It chilled her still to remember the seconds before the instructor pulled her out, when she thought she would meet the same demise as her parents.
“Really? But, you go to the lake with Dad all the time.”
“But I don’t go in, and never too near. If I’m far enough away, I can pretend it’s not real, that it’s just scenery, you know, background, like in a movie.”
“And it can’t hurt you?”
“Right.” Why was he asking so many questions? Was he afraid of something? Fire? Fire killed his mother, was that it? “Are you… are you afraid of something?”
“Nah, not me.” He peeked at her, shrugged. “Well, I’m not too crazy about fire.” He paused, his blue eyes narrowing. “Dad knows and Grandma, and the rest of the family, but nobody else. Well, now you know”—he scratched his chin—“but you’re kind of like family, so I guess it’s okay if you know.”
“Thank you.”
“So, are you gonna marry my Dad, or what?”
***
It was almost noon when Alex dropped Justin and Jet off at Stella’s.
“Come, have a bowl of goulash.” Stella was standing at the stove, stirring a big pot with a wooden spoon. “Fresh bread, too, not out of the oven twenty minutes. Stay.”
“I’m sorry, Stella, I can’t. Not today.”
“Oh? Got a better invitation?” She raised a brow, waited.
“Nick called. He has a little free time.”
“Oh.”
“I… I need to talk to him.”
“I see.” She smiled, shook her head. A twist of gray-brown hair fell across her cheek. “There’s nothing like new love. Everything is so right, so fresh, so… so urgent.” Her voice swayed, dipped. “The trick is keeping the love when the mystery fades and you’ve seen him in his dirty socks and underwear with a fever and a foul temper. The real person has a way of sneaking out, warts and all, and that’s the person you need to love. He’s the truth. Nothing’s cute then, believe me, and he’ll want to swat you away if you flit over him trying to get him this or that. You’ll drive each other crazy, wonder how you ever thought you’d want to spend the rest of your life with such a miserable, ungrateful person.” She looked up, met Alex’s eyes, and there were tears in her own. “But then you remember. And when you look at him again, it’s not the speck of drool on his pillow you see or the way his belly hangs over his pants a lot more than it used to. What you see, deep down, is the love, and the memories, and the hope. That’s what makes everything worthwhile.”