When Sparks Fly (4 page)

“She’s not afraid of anything,” Monica laughed. “But I’m hoping we’ll be on our way long before the fireworks. Why, it’s only Wednesday and the Fourth isn’t until Sunday. Surely it won’t take that long for my car to be fixed, will it?”

Shaking off the feeling of disappointment at her words, he responded, “I’m not sure. I know that Frankie will do his best to get you back on the road as soon as possible.”

“Good,” she nodded. “There’s so much to do before I start my new job. I wasn’t counting on being delayed.”

“LA, huh?”

“Yes. I got a job with an environmental law firm out there. I know it’s going to be very different from New York but I’m looking forward to the change. It’ll be good for Kimber, too.”

“Will your husband be joining you?”

Monica looked sideways at him, wondering if he was just making conversation or if there was a deeper meaning to his question. “No husband. I mean there was but we’re divorced now. What about you? Is there a Mrs. Callaghan at home?”

“Actually, there is.”

Her heart sank a bit, then she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. That didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t married; not all couples wore rings. Looking at his face she saw his lips pressed firmly together and his eyes twinkling. “You’re talking about your mother, aren’t you?” she asked indignantly.

Joe burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. If you could’ve seen your face….”

“That wasn’t very nice,” she said primly, trying to hold in her own laughter. There was something about his teasing that made her feel good about herself and that was a feeling she could get used to.

Still chuckling, he turned left onto a tree-lined, dead end street. Large, well-kept houses sat back off the road hidden behind mature trees, flowering hedges, and long, winding driveways. Gravel crunched under the tires as Joe pulled into the last drive on the right, following the white stone path up to an older, two-story home. A large cherry tree, branches heavy with fruit, graced the front yard, shading a teakwood table and two Adirondack chairs.

As they pulled up in front of his parent’s home, Monica was flooded with memories of her grandparents’ place in Wisconsin. She’d spent many a summer there when she was a child and was astounded by how much this house looked like theirs. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn it was the same building.

A wide, wraparound porch welcomed family and friends alike, and she imagined more than one sleepover had taken place there on a warm, summer night. Purple clematis twined through the white painted railing, its delicate fragrance lightly scenting the air. Various rockers, chairs, and small tables were spaced out against the side of the house, providing comfortable accommodations for anyone who dropped by to visit.

Joe parked the truck next to a forest-green Ford Excursion. Opening the door, he hopped out a split second before Leroy, nearly tripping over the dog. Shaking his head in amusement, he watched the canine make a beeline for his favorite patch of grass and drop, rolling in obvious delight.
Ah, a dog’s life
, he thought, walking over to help Monica with Kimber. Reaching the passenger door he found her already lowering the little girl to the ground. “Here, let me help you,” he offered, reaching for the backpack she was lifting from the floorboard.

“Thank you.” Meeting his eyes she noticed that though they shared the same color of brown, his had specks of gold throughout, making them appear lighter than they were, almost hazel. Staring into them, she felt hypnotized, and her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip. His eyes narrowed at the gesture, his pupils dilating, and Monica shivered, anticipating the moment when he would lean in for a kiss.

“Something wrong?” he asked, breaking the spell.

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear the fog that had enveloped her, she blushed and answered, “No, nothing, I’m fine.” Sliding out of the truck, she found her legs a bit unsteady and fumbled with her purse in an attempt to gain control of her raging hormones. It was clear that she had totally misread the moment and was embarrassed to think she’d come so close to making a fool of herself with this man who had gone out of his way to help her. Taking her daughter’s hand, they walked up the porch steps and followed Joe into the house.

“Mom. Dad.” He stepped into the kitchen to find his parents washing up the supper dishes. The couple turned to greet him, his mother wiping her hands on a dish towel while his father bumped the silverware drawer shut with his hip. “I’d like you to meet Monica Russo and her daughter, Kimber. Their car broke down on the edge of town and I told them they could stay here while Frankie fixes it.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan, it’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope it’s not an inconvenience for you having us here.” She smiled at the couple. It was clear to see where their son had gotten his good looks. His mother was tall, with a trim figure, her light brown hair streaked with silver. Attractively cut into a bob, it was pulled away from her face with a bandana similar to Monica’s. Joe’s father was the same height as his wife; thin as a rail but not in an unhealthy way. In fact, the man looked as if he could put in a full day’s work and still have energy left over. If not for the slight tremor in his left hand, she never would have suspected that he’d had a stroke.

Joe’s mother stepped forward. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear. We love having company, don’t we Bill? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. And please, call me Fran.” She took Monica’s hand in her own, squeezing it firmly before turning her attention to Kimber. “That is a beautiful dress you’re wearing.” Reaching out, she offered her hand to the girl. “Would you like to see the room that you’ll be staying in? There are some toys in the closet that my granddaughters play with when they come to visit.” Tiny fingers wrapped around hers, and they disappeared down the hall.

“I told you; she’s not afraid of anything,” Monica remarked to Joe.

Laughing, he replied, “I can see that. Of course, Mom’s one of those people who kids really take to. Isn’t that right, Pops?”

“Who’re you calling ‘Pops’?” Bill grumbled good-naturedly. “Makes me sound old.”

“You? Old? Never!” Joe responded in mock horror.

Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smiling as she watched the father and son engage in some lighthearted bantering. They had an easy rapport, and the love they felt for each other was apparent. She also noticed the protectiveness that Joe exhibited at the same time respecting the elder man’s dignity.

“Joseph! Are you going to leave this poor woman standing here all night? She looks dead on her feet. Take her bags to the guest room so that she can get settled in.” The sound of Fran’s voice caused all three of them to jump, and the accused wasted no time apologizing to his houseguest.

“Sorry,” he said guiltily. “Let me grab your bags.”

“That’s alright; thank you. I am a bit tired.” As he went outside to fetch the luggage, she turned to Fran. “Is Kimber behaving herself?”

“Oh my yes, she’s an angel,” the older woman gushed. “What an adorable daughter you have.”

“Thank you. She is pretty special.” Monica’s face glowed with maternal pride as she bragged on how well behaved her daughter had been on the trip so far.

Catching the last part of the conversation as he walked back into the kitchen, Joe’s heart warmed at the expression on her face. Though he was sure his parents thought otherwise, he hadn’t forgotten for a moment that she was there. The entire time he’d been joking with his father he’d been aware of her; the soft flowery scent of her shampoo, the curve of her hip as she leaned against the counter, her obvious amusement at their antics. It felt like she belonged…in this town, in his home, in his life.

Setting the suitcases down with a thud, he groaned exaggeratedly. “What’s in these things? Bricks?”

Monica met his teasing look with a stern one though her eyes sparkled mischievously. “If it’s too much for you to handle, I’m sure your father could help you out.”

“I have a better idea, young lady,” Bill said, playing along. “How about if I escort you to your room and leave the heavy lifting to my son?” Walking up next to her, he offered his elbow through which she promptly slipped her arm.

“I accept, kind sir.”

Winking at her, Bill tossed a dollar bill at his son. “For your trouble.” He then proceeded to make a show of walking her to the guest room, Joe close behind, shaking his head and chuckling while he carried the bags.

“I’ll fix you something to eat,” Fran called after them, pulling the fixings for an omelet from the refrigerator. “You must be famished.” The sounds of pans clattering and dishes clinking followed them the rest of the way down the hall.

The first thing Monica noticed when she entered the room was Kimber sprawled out on the floor putting the finishing touches on her latest work of art; a crayon colored picture of a sunflower, torn from the pages of a coloring book. “Mommy, look what I made. I’m going to go show Grandma Fran.” She hopped up and raced out of the room in search of her favorite new adult, her ponytail bobbing back and forth. Moments later, exclamations over her beautiful artwork could be heard from the kitchen.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Grandma Fran?” he remarked, setting the luggage on the bed. “That didn’t take long.”

“You know your mother.” Bill shrugged his shoulders, looking over at a bewildered Monica. “That’s my wife’s not-so-subtle way of making it known that she’d like more grandkids. I hope she hasn’t offended you.”

“Not at all,” she assured him, taking his weathered hands in her own, hiding her frown at the slight tremble. “I’ve never seen Kimber take to a stranger so quickly. She must recognize a kind soul.” She smiled reassuringly and his face relaxed. Looking over at Joe, her stomach did a flip when he grinned and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. Bill let out an audible ‘whew’, then dropped her hands and walked to the doorway. “I’d best go see what those ladies are getting into.”

“Are you sure you’re not just looking for another piece of pie?” Joe teased.

“Now that you mention it….” He left the room, eyes twinkling, but Monica noticed how he leaned against the doorframe before shuffling down the hallway.

“Are you sure it won’t be too much for your parents, having us here? Your dad looks tired and Kimber can be a handful.”

“It’s fine,” Joe reassured her. “Besides, it’s only for a few days, right?” Even as he asked the question his gut sank knowing the answer. She would be out of his life before he ever had the chance to get to know her and that didn’t sit well with him. This woman, and her daughter, was worth getting to know.

His sister and brother-in-law were coming to spend the Fourth of July weekend bringing his nieces with them. Though they were hell on wheels, he loved them to death, and at six and seven, they were only a little older than Kimber. Erica and Hannah loved making new friends; he could hear the three girls giggling now and was hoping to convince Monica to stay through the weekend, whether her car was fixed or not. Maybe he should give Frankie a call….

“Joe? Loren called for you.” Fran stuck her head in the room. “The omelets are ready, dear. Kimber is already digging in to hers.”

“Thank you,” Monica answered, wondering who Lauren was. A girlfriend perhaps? Fiancée? It was none of her business; it wasn’t like they were dating or anything. As soon as the car was fixed, she and Kimber would be back on the road, heading to California and this little pit stop would be nothing but a memory. So why did the thought of Joe being with a woman put knots in her stomach? Choosing to push the thought aside, she added, “I just need to wash up.”

Fran nodded and went back to the kitchen to supervise her husband and young house guest. Joe stood for a minute in the middle of the room, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I gotta get going,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “I already made plans….”

“That’s alright. I didn’t presume you were going to entertain us. You’ve done more than enough today.” Her tone was clipped with a frosty edge. She hadn’t really expected him to spend the evening at his parents’ house with her, had she? Berating herself for being angry with him, she softened her voice. “Thank you, Joe, for all of your help today. I really do appreciate it. I don’t know what Kimber and I would have done if you hadn’t come along when you did.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he walked over to her, stopping further away than he wanted to. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, the way he would a small child, and looked into her eyes. “I have the feeling you would have done just fine. You seem to know how to take care of yourself. City living and all that.” He took a step closer and leaned forward, grinning when her eyes widened. Speaking softly, he said, “You’d better go wash up. Your omelet is getting cold.”

With that, he dropped his hands and sauntered out of the room, digging his phone out of his pocket. Pressing a number on his speed dial, he waited for the line to connect, waving to his parents as he passed through the kitchen on the way to his apartment. “Yo, Loren, what’s up? We still on for Deuce’s, bro?” he asked, hurrying up the stairs over the garage. Not bothering to turn on a light, he went directly to his bedroom, shrugged out of his t-shirt and threw it in the clothes hamper before pulling a fresh one over his head. Less than three minutes later he was pulling out of the drive on his way to the pool hall, still chuckling to himself at the look on Monica’s face when his mother had told him Loren had called. There’d been no mistaking the flash of disappointment in her eyes when she’d thought he had a girlfriend.

As he drove past the house, the headlights of Joe’s pickup illuminated Monica where she sat at the kitchen table with Kimber. Though her daughter had no problem cleaning her own plate, sometime between arriving at the house and Fran passing the phone message on to her son, she’d lost her appetite. The only reason she was sitting here now was to not hurt Fran’s feelings. The Callaghans had welcomed them into their home and she refused to show any disrespect. Pushing the omelet around on her plate, she made one last attempt to eat before giving up completely.