Summer Kisses (42 page)

Slowly Mandy lowered her hands from the guitar and looked around like she couldn’t quite figure out how everyone had gotten there. “Oh.”

Embarrassment quickly changed to annoyance.

“It was nothing.” Those three little words managed to communicate modesty, boredom, and hostility. Teens were emotional multitaskers.

“Lucky, may I speak with you outside?” Will was using his professional snooty voice. Like he was about to enter into contract negotiations with a record label.

“Sure.” She stood and walked to the door. “Keep playing, it was fantastic.”

Mandy shrugged, but the grin on her face belied her happiness at the compliment. “Whatever.”

Lucky stepped through the doorway and closed it. Will was waiting for her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Accusatory didn’t quite cover the harshness in his voice.

“Why are you being such an ass?” Lucky crossed her arms and set her jaw. “Mandy’s got talent. Why in the world should that piss you off?”

“She’s sixteen. The music business will chew her up and spit her out. It destroyed Ricky.” He paced.

She’d forgotten he was a pacer. He might not have been justified with his snippy tone, but she understood his issue. Mandy needed protecting, especially after the reality show aired. All the girls would need protection.

“She’s not Ricky. I didn’t know him before he was famous, but I know the business isn’t kind.” She wanted to help, but Mandy wasn’t hers, and it was none of her business.

“I thought I had a little more time. I locked up the recording studio and kept her from it because she isn’t ready.” He tunneled his hands through his hair. “She’s the most talented singer I’ve ever met, but I thought I’d back-burner it until she was older. She’s been through so much. I wanted to let her be a kid for a little while longer.”

Losing both her parents had been traumatic. Mandy had been through a lot. “She’s almost an adult. It’s her decision.”

“What should we do?” He stopped and stared at her like she held the answer to the meaning of life.

We? She’d never really been a “we.” Before, she’d been an “us.” As Ricky’s wife, she’d merely been an extension of him. He’d never asked her what to do because he didn’t take advice or constructive criticism or even the occasional “here’s what I think.” It had never occurred to him that there were opinions other than his own.

“I think we should talk to her about it and see what she wants to do with her music. If she wants to record, we need to make some serious decisions about her future—the future of the family. Whether we like it or not, we’re already public figures, and this will magnify the situation.” Lucky said.

When she’d married Ricky, she’d been too young and stupid to realize the weight of having a public life. Everyone—including kids of public figures—should have a choice as to the life they led.

Will tunneled his fingers through his hair again. The resulting tussle gave him a rumpled, boyish look—add in the shorts, the Spurs tee shirt, and tennis shoes and he could have been in high school. What had he been like in high school … serious and scholarly?

“She’s been hurt so much. I don’t know that I want her in the music business.” He paced.

“We may not have a choice. She’s her own person and almost an adult. She gets to decide her future.” Lucky was firm on that. Everyone got to decide. “We can explain both sides and let her make her own decision.”

“The life is cruel. For every accolade, there are a hundred rejections.” On he paced. “The business sucks up self-esteem.”

“Maybe she’ll say no to the music biz.” The thought made her sad. A voice like Mandy’s deserved to be shared.

Will shot her a yeah-right look. “She’s sixteen. The pop princess ideal is part of the American dream.”

“All we can do is be supportive.” She touched the coach’s whistle on the cord around his neck. “Like the whistle.”

Using the whistle, she pulled him to her, leaned up, and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll make the right decision. You always do.”

His arm came around her and hugged her to him. She fit nicely against him.

~~~

Dinner was a mostly silent affair full of chewing and glaring. Will wiped his face with a paper napkin, leaned back, balancing his weight on the two back chair legs, and watched Lucky eating her salad. Getting to watch her when other people were around instead of forcing himself to look down was nice.

Lucky hated salad and most green vegetables unless they were cooked in bacon grease, so watching her stumble through a salad with pears and goat cheese was an accomplishment. He’d made a deal. Pizza first and then everyone had to eat a plate of salad. Healthy eating habits started at home, and by God, they would eat healthy if it killed him.

Everyone except Mandy took turns chewing and glaring at him. She divided her glares between Lucky and him.

Viviane shot Lucky surreptitious glances, but neither seemed to be inclined to talk. By enforcing the new healthy eating rule, he’d made them allies against Campaign Healthy.

“Mandy, how was your day?” Will tried again to start dinner conversation.

Mandy grunted in his general direction, rolled her eyes, and went back to eating. Since her mouth was full, she didn’t stick out her tongue. Thank God for that.

“Lucky, I don’t think you’ve met Viviane. Lucky, Vivi…Vivi, Lucky.” He would engage them in dinner conversation or die trying.

Lucky wiped the corners of her mouth, swallowed, and said, “Nice to meet you. I hear you’re a Spurs fan. They have a good team this year.”

He nodded. Today had been eventful. In short order, she’d saved the life of one niece, learned the other could sing, and introduced herself in the best possible way to Vivi.

“Yes, they do. Popovich finally has them headed in the right direction. They’ll dominate the southwestern division,” Vivi said in between bites of pizza.

“Let’s hope.” Lucky nodded.

And that was that. No more small talk, just chewing. Because he’d never had a conventional family, he’d always wanted the large family meals with lots of talking and laughing. Maybe someday. He shrugged. Today was Lucky’s first day. Loud family meals took time.

The next evening, the scratching of flame-retardant-PJ-covered feet against the travertine living room floor got louder and louder. There had been a time when Lucky had looked forward to a house full of children … her children…. Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She glanced over her left shoulder.

Dawnie, clutching a ratty pink Barbie blanket, approached shyly. Her huge blue eyes flickered nervously from Lucky to the fire and back again. “Is Uncle Will in here?”

“No. He went to bed hours ago.” It was almost two thirty in the morning. This little one should be fast asleep.

“Good.” Without asking, Dawnie eased her skinny bottom onto Lucky’s lap. “He gets mad when I wake up in the middle of the night.”

If she hugged Dawnie to her, she might never let go. When it came to this precious little girl, the lines were blurring. She could love her … deeply, but Dawnie wasn’t Lucky’s to love. Instead, she gripped the arms of the overstuffed chair more tightly. “Feel free to sit on one of the other sofas, or any of the three other chairs.”

“Why?” Dawnie made it sound like the most absurd idea in the world. “Whatcha doing?”

“Watching the fire.” She liked the solitude to reflect upon and deal with things. Some people used alcohol to unwind, others, hot baths. For Lucky, a good blaze did the job even if it was seventy degrees outside. All she had to do was turn down the air conditioner and build a fire. It might not be eco-friendly, but everyone deserved a vice.

“Fire is hot.” She looked over her shoulder at Lucky. “If you catch on fire: stop, drop, and roll, or you’ll burn up.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Lucky couldn’t help the smile. “This fire is safe. I like to stare into the flames to gather my thoughts.”

Dawnie shrugged. “Okay.” She turned back to the fire.

After ten seconds of blessed silence, she looked back at Lucky. “Maybe if you always put away your thoughts back in the same place, you wouldn’t need to gather them up. I keep my Barbies in big bags so I don’t have to gather them up. It works.”

She settled back against Lucky’s chest.

“I miss my daddy sometimes.” With her tiny index finger, she traced the fingers of Lucky’s left hand. “He used to bring me candy and let me ride on his shoulders. Do you got any candy?”

“Not on me. But tomorrow we’ll see what we can sneak by Uncle Will.” Lucky was partial to chocolate. What did Dawnie like?

“Daddy brought me M&Ms. They were our favorite.” She continued to trace the bones in Lucky’s hand. “I haven’t had M&Ms since Daddy died. Think I can have some?”

Every innocent word chiseled off a chunk of Lucky’s heart. Ricky had loved plain M&Ms. Whatever problems she had with him … this lovely little girl had lost her father. Lucky had been so caught up in anger that she’d failed to see the victims of Ricky’s death. Infidelity wasn’t a victimless crime—here was the proof. And damn it, she’d have loved to see him with Dawnie, with all the girls. Ricky would have been—she shook her head—had been a good father. She swallowed down the hate for one precious moment.

“What was he like?” Her voice wobbled almost as much as her heart.

“We played Barbies. We’d get them all dressed up for a wedding. Daddy would put on a suit and marry a new one every day.”

“Yes, it seems that he had a hard time choosing just one.” Lucky rolled her eyes.

Dawnie pried Lucky’s hand from the chair and laced her little fingers through Lucky’s larger ones. “Do you miss him?”

Lucky held the delicate little hand and marveled at the bones and the soft skin. It was a miracle that something so tiny was so strong. She gave up, relaxed back against the chair, and pulled the little girl in close. “Yes.”

It was the truth, but she was also getting used to living without him. Grief was a funny, fickle thing. After someone died, family and friends were there with casseroles and hugs and then there was the funeral and the hubbub surrounding death. But it was the weeks after that were the hardest. The month later when she’d seen something funny on TV and picked up the phone to call him only to realize after she’d speed-dialed him that he was gone … forever. That was the moment he’d ceased to exist as a living, breathing person.

Death’s finality took a while to fully sink in. There had been no stepping-down process to gradually adjust to a life without Ricky. He’d been here one minute and gone the next. Everything that he was had ended. No longer could she ask him questions or hear his laughter or see his face.

Being left behind meant getting up every day, putting one foot in front of the other, pretending to laugh and feel, and stumbling through life waiting for the hole that used to be their life together to fill with something that made sense. The routine became a habit, and then it was her life. Day by day, the void that had been his death got smaller and smaller until it was hard to remember what life with him had been like.

Grief was always there, but it only grabbed her by the heart every once in a while these days. It was like learning to live with a shoulder injury—a dull pain was always there but only really hurt sometimes. Tonight, surrounded by his things and his children, it hurt like a bitch. And she was beginning to forget him … the little nuances of his personality that had made him who he was. While Ricky had been a shit, he’d also been kind, funny, talented, and compassionate. She’d repressed the good about him for so long it was hard to recall it now. For tonight, she needed to revel in the good and forget the bad.

“My daddy was funny.” She grabbed Lucky’s hand and pulled it around her waist. “He used to sing me to sleep … called me Little Bit.”

The ache magnified ten times and threatened to swallow her whole.

“I wish I could have seen that.” And she did. She’d give anything to have seen Ricky interacting with his children. There had always been this glowing, boyish smile that had crept up on his face when he was around children. Around his own, it must have been dazzling.

“I would have loved to see you with him.”

“Why don’t you look at the picture albums?” Dawnie said as she stretched. “Uncle Will has them.”

Maybe she’d ask to see them. Perhaps tomorrow … if she worked up the nerve. She wanted to see Ricky and didn’t. Perhaps it was like ripping a Band-Aid off—once she’d seen the pictures, then she could heal.

Ricky as a father—it was still a shock.

They stared into the fire in companionable silence.

“Can I call you Wow?” Clearly the little girl had moved on.

“Um, okay.” Lucky had no idea what a Wow was. “Why?”

Dawnie wriggled around and touched Lucky’s jaw. “Because it’s Mom upside down. I want you to be my mom upside down.”

Her battered and bruised soul shook off some of the darkness, and a blinding, beautiful love took root. It was a mother’s love—all-consuming and eternal. She would love, protect, and worship this little one forever.

She was a mom upside down.

“Oh.” Tears burned the inside of her nose and then rolled, warm and plentiful, down her cheeks. She nodded and choked out, “I would love to be your Wow.”

This beautiful little girl was so hungry for love, and Lucky was hungry to give it.

All those years of trying to be a mother and now she was one—upside down. It was wonderful and astonishing and surreal.

“Why are you crying?” Dawnie sounded more interested than concerned.

“I … um…” She swiped at her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to be a … um … Wow.”

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna tell Vivi and Mandy to call you Wow too. That way you’ll be a Wow all the time.” She turned back around and laced her fingers through Lucky’s. “I wanna try out for the Thanksgiving play at school. Think you could help me? I want to be the narragator, and there’s lots of lines.”

“Do you mean narrator?” Lucky kissed the top of the little girl’s head and felt completely comfortable doing it. “I’d love to.”

Dawnie bounced and clapped and then yawned. She snuggled into Lucky and rested her head against Lucky’s chest. “I like staring into the fire. It’s kinda nice. It’s a whole bunch of different colors. I didn’t know fire had so many colors.”