A Bride After All (11 page)

“I…I think he knows. We…we get along really well.”

“Really? And I know what that translates to. Good for you.”

“Leave it to you, Marylou. You know what we all need? We need coffee,” Chessie announced solemnly, turning Claire around so that she could unhook the corset. “Nice big pot of coffee. Lots of coffee, lots of talking. And then one of my nightshirts
for each of you, and beds for all of us. Marylou, you agree?”

“Are you kidding? You couldn’t get me out of here tonight at the point of a gun. I don’t know who this Sandy is, or why she left Nick and her own son, but she’s no match for the three of us. We’ll figure something out. Now don’t yell at me, Claire, and don’t you laugh at me, Chessie, but I think we should probably start thinking about Claire just flat-out telling Nick the truth, telling him that she loves him. I mean, unless we can think of something better…”

“Are we going to see Ms. Ayers tonight, Dad? She’s going to come to my testing, isn’t she? She said she was going to. She wouldn’t say that if she wasn’t going to come, would she?”

Nick shot his son a quick sideways look as they made their way through traffic on their way to the community center.

“She said she was going to be there, Champ. This is important to you? That Ms. Ayers is there?”

Sean fussed with the red belt tied around his waist. He’d trade it in for a brown one if he passed his tests tonight. “Yeah, I guess so. Jacob’s mom is coming, and his grandmom, too. And his grandpop. And his sister Julie, and his cousin Bobbie. Not his brother Christopher because, you know, he’s only a baby, so Jacob’s dad is staying home with him. But that’s okay, because Jacob’s mom is taking video.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick said thoughtfully. Tonight was
clearly Big Stuff for his son. He should have at least called Barb and Skip. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Why hadn’t he thought about the damn video camera? Every time he thought he was doing a good job as a single parent, bam, something like this came up to kick him in the teeth. “You know that your grandparents would be here if they could. And your Aunt Catherine.”

“I know. They can’t help it that they don’t live here. It’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t okay. Sean needed a cheering section. He deserved one. Maybe if he hadn’t been so obsessed with worrying what trick Sandy was up to, he would have remembered that, for Sean, this was a big night, a huge step upward in his training.

“You and Ms. Ayers like each other, don’t you?” Sean asked after another fairly uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” Nick answered warily, “we like each other. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Seam mumbled. “Do you love each other?”

Nick congratulated himself silently that he hadn’t run off the road. “Are you asking this because you saw me kissing Ms. Ayers the other night?”

Sean shrugged. “I suppose. So, do you love her? Jacob said his mom and dad kiss all the time. It really grosses him out.”

“Well, then, Ms. Ayers and I will try not to gross you out. As for loving Claire? It’s kind of early days for that, Champ. We’ve only know each other a
week. Some things take more time. Is that it? Are we clear on this now?”

“I guess so.”

This time, Nick didn’t congratulate himself. Because he was pretty sure Sean had at least one more zinger in his pocket, ready to launch at him.

And it didn’t take long before his son took out that zinger and zapped him with it.

“So, Dad. How long does it take?”

“How long does it take for what?”

“To know if you’re in love with somebody.”

“That’s a very good question, son. A very good question.”

“But you don’t know the answer?”

“I’m not sure,” Nick answered, not entirely honestly. But how do you tell a child that sometimes it takes a look, a moment and no more, and you know? You just know.

“Okay,” Sean said, nodding. “Just let me know when you do.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Nick said as he pulled into the parking lot, grateful he’d soon be in class, where the questions were easier. He went on the lookout for Claire’s car as he pulled into a parking spot, but it wasn’t parked in its usual space. She was probably just running late.

Sean sat up very straight on the front seat and looked around the lot. “Ms. Ayers isn’t here, Dad. And it’s almost seven o’clock. She should be here by now, shouldn’t she?”

“She’ll be here, Champ,” Nick said with all the confidence he could manage. “Remember, she teaches tonight. Come on, let’s get inside.”

He put his hand on Sean’s shoulder and they entered the building together, along with others heading for the classrooms.

“Over here, Nick,” Chessie Burton said, waving to them from the registration desk. “I’ve got a message for you.”

“Chessie,” Nick said, steering Sean toward the desk. “Don’t tell me you’re babysitting again tonight.”

“No, no more of that. Evelina found a woman in their apartment building who’s agreed to watch Stefano, thank goodness. This time I’m here taking Marylou’s place—she’s so lucky I have no life. Anyway, Claire had an emergency at the hospital or something, and Marylou’s going to take over the child-care class for her until she can get here. Oh, that’s the message. Claire says she’ll be here, but she’ll be late. She asked Marylou to pass the message on to you, because she had to go, but she needed to be sure her classroom was covered, so that’s why she called Marylou, and not you. Yeah,” Chessie ended, looking up toward the ceiling, as if checking some unseen notes up there, to be sure she’d delivered the entire message, “that’s all of it.”

“I’m going to go to class,” Sean said quietly, and turned to leave.

“Hey, don’t go all doom and gloom on me, Champ,” Nick told him. “She’ll be here.”

“Right.” Sean turned once more, and shuffled away, his shoulders slumping.

“What’s wrong, Nick?”

He raked a hand through his hair, and then shook his head in disgust. “Me, that’s what’s wrong. Sean and Jacob have their qualification test tonight after karate class, and Claire promised she’d be there. And, thanks to me, if she’s not, then I’ll be the only one there to watch him. The other kid’s whole family is showing up. Probably bringing balloons, or something. Making me look even worse.”

“Ouch. That’s not good. Poor kid, poor daddy. But I’m sure Claire hasn’t forgotten. She’ll be here if she can. And Marylou and I will certainly stick around, if that helps?”

“That would be great, yes. Thanks. Well, I’d better get going.” He took a few steps before he turned back to Chessie. “I’m taking a wild shot here, but you wouldn’t happen to have a video camera with you, would you?”

Chessie grinned. “Sure, don’t you? Your cell phone, Nick. You can probably take video with it.”

He gave himself a mental slap to the forehead. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Men never think of everything. That’s why they need women. We’re much better in a crisis,” Chessie teased, and then turned away to help a young woman who had come up to the registration desk.

With one last look toward the doorway, hoping to see Claire walking into the building, Nick headed for
his classroom, the crestfallen look on his son’s face still very clear in his mind. There had to be something he could do.

Claire ran into the community center clutching the small bag holding the first three volumes of a series of adventure books one of the mothers at the office had told her were the rage right now with nine-to-eleven-year-old boys.

She was late, almost too late to do anything more for her class than hope that Marylou hadn’t ditched the lesson plan on childhood nutrition she’d faxed over to her, and she’d step inside the classroom in time to see her friend leading a Conga line, or something.

It was sort of funny, in some odd way, Claire had thought on her way to the community center. She’d been delayed by emergencies when she and Steven were married, and had resented feeling that she then needed to rush home, full of apologies for doing her job.

But tonight? Taking the chance of disappointing Sean? She hadn’t been able to drive fast enough, her thoughts all on the child and not at all on her already long day, her aching back or any notion of just giving the evening a skip and going home to a nice warm bath.

“How’s it going?” she asked Chessie as she trotted into the building. “What’s she doing?”

“You don’t really want me to answer that, right?” Chessie said, getting to her feet, following along
behind Claire. “Just keep going straight, to the cafeteria. She took your class there.”

Claire slowed down, suddenly reluctant to know how her class had fared under Marylou’s tutelage.

But she shouldn’t have worried.

“Hi, Teach,” Marylou said when she saw Claire. “We’re just about done here.”

Claire looked around to see her students standing in line at the checkout, each of them pushing along a tray filled with fresh fruit, small boxes of whole-grain cereals, yogurt cups, small milk and orange juice cartons, and more.

“We all shopped,” Marylou told her with some satisfaction. “We read labels, not that I understand them all that much, and we realized that if it comes with icing on it or inside it, it goes back on the shelf. Sort of hands-on experience, you know? And now they’ll take home their class project—get it, class project?—and feed it all to their kids as their homework. My treat, Ruth is putting it all on one bill. I’m a genius, right?”

“You’re Santa Claus without the suit,” Chessie said, laughing. “But brilliant. Now come on. Class is letting out and I promised Nick we’d show up to watch Sean get his new belt or something before we go for that late dinner you promised me.”

Claire tore her eyes away from the scene of her students all happily chattering as they loaded their “homework” into plastic bags Ruth had found somewhere, and looked up at the large clock on the wall. “You’re coming, too? That’s really very nice of you.”

“Sean seemed upset that you might not be there to watch him,” Chessie told her, “so I volunteered Marylou and myself. I’m actually looking forward to it. Do you think they’ll break boards?”

“He said he does that sometimes. I don’t know. He really was upset that I might not be there?”

“Father and son both,” Chessie told her happily. “It’s like I told you last night, you are probably worried for nothing. Kids know, that’s what they always say. Kids and dogs. Does Nick have a dog?”

“No,” Claire said, laughing, and then her heart leapt in her chest as she saw Nick sitting by himself on the bleachers. He saw her, and his smile as he stood up and waved her over had her heart skipping another beat. “But a dog would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s the way to think,” Marylou said happily. “Stay positive. And don’t tell me Nick’s eyes don’t get all gooey when he looks at you.”

“Marylou, you’re impossible,” Claire whispered as they joined Nick. There was a small group of people sitting farther along the bleachers, but other than that, the gymnasium was empty. “Hi, sorry I’m late. Where’s Sean?”

“He and Jacob will be marching in behind the instructors any moment now. I guess it’s time for me to give the signal.”

Before Claire could ask him what he meant, he stood up, put two fingers between his lips and gave a loud whistle.

Moments later, Salvatore and Evelina in the lead,
what seemed to be every student in Nick’s class came marching into the gymnasium. They all carried signs that read:
Go, Sean! Go, Jacob!
Behind them, carrying their plastic bags filled with nutritious foods, came Claire’s students, all of them laughing and talking as everyone climbed onto the bleachers before breaking into loud cheers as the small procession made its way to the center of the gymnasium floor.

“Look at him, look at him,” Claire said, grabbing Nick’s arm as Sean and Jacob waved to everyone. “Look at him
smiling
. Oh, Nick…”

“I nearly blew it, Claire,” he told her quietly as everyone settled down and the Sensei motioned for the two boys to face him. With their arms close to their sides, their feet firmly together, both boys bowed to their teacher, and he to them. “I’d add it to my list of things to blame Sandy for, except that this wasn’t her fault. I was so busy worrying about what might happen tomorrow that I forgot to pay attention to what’s really important.”

“Sean,” Claire said, nodding.

Nick took her hand in his, squeezed it. “Not just Sean. Will you come back to the house with me tonight? Stay the night? Maybe talk about timelines?”

“Timelines? I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I, until Sean pointed out to me how there really aren’t any that matter, not in some cases. Come home with me, and I’ll try to explain.”

“I have to work tomorrow, Nick. You don’t want me to be there when—”

“This has nothing to do with Sandy. This has to do with you and me. If you agree that there is a you and me, could be a you and me.”

Claire swallowed hard, ready to follow through on the only plan that had made sense to Marylou and Chessie and herself last night. The truth. “Yes. Because…because I—”

“Damn it! I forgot I have to videotape this thing,” Nick interrupted, letting go of her hand and pulling his cell phone from his pocket, quickly opening and aiming it toward Sean, who had begun his testing.

…love you
, Claire ended silently, smiling.
I really, really do.

“S
o, are you back in the running for father of the year?”

Nick handed Claire a glass of iced tea before he sat down on the side of the chaise where Claire was sitting, her long legs stretched out in front of her.

She’d followed him and Sean home after the ceremony, and they’d all celebrated with bowls of ice cream before the boy was sent off to shower and get ready for bed. Nick had just come back from saying goodnight to him.

“I was, until I nixed his idea that tomorrow should be designated a school holiday, to honor his achievement. I’ll say this for the kid, he’s always thinking. Are you warm enough?”

“I’m fine. It’s so beautiful out here. Who takes care of the gardening?”

“Not me,” he said, grinning at her in the light cast by solar lanterns spaced along the walkways and stairs, the soft glow of the strategically placed spotlights on the house itself, muted with the dimmer switch that could turn the yard from party time to romantic getaway. “My parents used to assign me yard work every year, and I’d moan and complain, even though I liked it. You don’t want parents to know their plan is working, you know? But now I just don’t have the time, so I hired a service. Do you like to garden?”

“I think I would. For now, I’m confined to pots on my balcony. I grew tomatoes there this summer, and actually harvested enough to make my own spaghetti sauce, and give some of the tomatoes away to my neighbors.”

“And she cooks, too. A woman of many talents,” he said, realizing that he had begun idly rubbing her bare leg. He slid his hand higher, underneath the hem of her skirt, held his palm still against her inner thigh. He liked touching her. It felt so natural to touch her. To have her in his life. He hadn’t realized how busy his life had been, how fulfilled by having Sean in that life, yet how lonely he was at the same time. As a man.

“Nick.”

“What? You want me to stop?”

“No—I mean yes. I can’t stay the night,” she told him, jackknifing to a sitting position beside him. “I
wouldn’t feel comfortable, not with Sean in the house. What if he woke up?”

Nick pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. “My son has been known to sleep through thunderstorms that rightly should have had him clinging to the ceiling by his fingernails. He won’t wake up.”

“He’ll wake up tomorrow, for school. I can’t be here when he does. It wouldn’t be fair to him to possibly give him ideas about us that…you understand, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face, hoping, praying, he could find the right words. “Give him the idea that he’s going to get what I never realized he wanted. A mother. I understand, Claire. And I know I’m probably going too fast for you. We both made one mistake we don’t want to repeat, and we’d be idiots to rush into what might be another one.”

She closed her eyes, nodded. “We’ve been…pretty intense. Maybe it’s time we slowed things down a little. Got some perspective…”

“We could do that,” Nick said, lightly rubbing her upper arms, because she may have said she wasn’t cold, but she seemed to be shivering a little now. “The last thing I want is for you to feel there’s any pressure on you.”

She lifted her head, smiled at him. “Oh? So you haven’t met Marylou and Chessie?”

“Chessie, too? How?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to know. I mean, you really don’t want to know.”

He did his best to keep his voice light, teasing, as
he said, “Sean asked me how long it takes to know if you’re in love.”

“Oh, no. How did you answer him?”

“I said I’d get back to him.”

“Chicken,” Claire said, getting to her feet. Nick took her hand and they began walking slowly toward the house. “Is that why you mentioned timelines earlier tonight?”

“And now I’m thinking I shouldn’t have. Because we’re probably right to…to slow things down.”

“It’s the sensible thing to do. You’ve got a lot on your mind right now, what with your ex-wife coming back here, talking about being a mother to Sean again. And…and she left you. That’s what you told me. So have you really had closure, Nick? Have you even seen her in the last six years?”

Her question surprised him into speaking before he thought. “And you left your ex-husband without confronting him. You just got on a plane and flew here to your brother. I mean,” he added quickly, “I think, considering the circumstances, you were right to do what you did. But is that closure, Claire? Does it fit the definition as you’re applying it to me?”

She stopped just before they reached the patio doors and turned to look at him.

“I never…I never thought about it that way. I never thought I had to confront Steven. I needed to confront myself, work my own way through what had happened, come to grips with the fact that, if Steven had made mistakes, so had I.”

“I’ve had six years to do that, Claire,” Nick told her, stepping closer to her, sliding his arms around her waist. “More, if I count the years we tried to pretend we hadn’t made a mistake before Sandy did what we should have done much sooner. I don’t know what she’s doing now, why she’s really coming here, but she’s out of my life, and has been for a long time.”

“She’s still Sean’s mother. You don’t know how he’s going to react when he sees her.” Claire spread her hands against his chest. “Which is just another reason for me not to be here tomorrow morning. The only person you should be thinking about now is your son. That’s your closure, Nick, seeing Sandy again, and the three of you deciding what her place is in your lives. And you’re not there yet. Now, why don’t you walk me to the door.”

For now, he’d agree with her. For now, he’d let her walk away.

But only for now.

“I’ll call you,” he told her once she’d picked up her purse and sweater and they were outside once more, standing under the trellis with all its late-season blooms surrounding them with scent. He smiled as he stroked her cheek with his hand. She was still here, and yet he already missed her. “That’s allowed, right?”

“Yes, please,” she said, and then she turned her head and pressed a kiss into his palm. “I think we’re doing the right thing, Nick. Even though it feels so very wrong.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her mouth with his own, pouring all the unspoken words into his kiss, praying she knew that time apart would change nothing, Sandy’s return would mean nothing. Claire clung to him, her fingertips digging into his back, giving him hope that she did know, that she felt the same way he did.

“Well, hello Nick. I thought about what my welcome would be like, but I’ve got to hand it to you. I didn’t think about something like this.”

Claire pushed away from him and turned around to face Sandy, even as she reached back, sought his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Sandy,” he said, looking at the woman he hadn’t seen in six years, slightly taken aback to see her standing there, but that was all. Other than feeling irritation that she’d interrupted something wonderful between Claire and himself, he couldn’t care less that she was back. “I thought you said you were coming tomorrow.”

“I caught an earlier flight, thinking it might be fun to surprise you,” she said, still looking at Claire. “Surprise!”

“I, um, I’d better get going,” Claire said, trying unsuccessfully to free her hand from his grip. But he wasn’t letting go.

“In a minute. Claire, this is Sean’s mother, Sandy. Sandy, my friend, Claire Ayers.”

“Cassandra,” Sandy said, smiling brightly as she stuck out her right hand, pretty much leaving
Claire no choice but to take it. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s quite all right, I was just leaving. A pleasure to meet you, Cassandra,” Claire said before turning back to Nick. “I’ll…I’ll wait for your call. Tomorrow? Unless you’re busy.”

“Tomorrow,” Nick told her, his hand at her back as he guided her past Sandy and, damn, her luggage. “Let me walk you to your car.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Claire only speaking once she had opened her car door. “Well, that was uncomfortable, wasn’t it? Did you see? She has her suitcases with her.”

“I saw them, yes. Look, Claire—”

She put her fingers to his lips. “I tried to tell you something earlier tonight, Nick. Now I’m glad I didn’t. Not because it wasn’t true, isn’t true. But if Sean should ever ask that question about time again, you can tell him that timing is everything. Tonight just wasn’t the right time, for either of us.”

He kissed her again, a quick, hard kiss, and then he let her go, watching until her taillights were out of sight around the bend before returning to the house. Sandy’s suitcases were still on the path. But not Sandy.

He picked up the luggage and carried it inside the house.

“Tall, isn’t she?” Sandy said as she stood in the foyer, applying lipstick in front of the mirror that hung there. “You always said you liked that I’m petite. I guess your tastes have changed?”

He looked at her as she continued to inspect her appearance in the mirror. She hadn’t changed much in six years. Except, of course, for her name. And he felt nothing. Not love, not hate. Just…indifference. She could be a complete stranger, one he wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know.

“You can’t stay here, Sandy. I told you that when you called.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Nick, lighten up, will you? It’s nearly ten o’clock. They’ll be rolling up the sidewalks here in domesticville in another ten minutes. Nobody’s going to notice.”

“Sean will notice when he wakes up tomorrow morning,” Nick pointed out. “I haven’t told him you were showing up.”

She turned away from the mirror. “Really? Why not?”

“That should be obvious. I didn’t know if you meant it.”

“Oh? So now I don’t say what I mean, is that it? When did I ever not do what I said I was going to do?”

Nick didn’t know why he said it, but he heard himself saying, “You said until death do us part,
Cassandra
. That one, and the others. And we both know how that worked out.”

Her bright smile was the old Sandy, as was her unaffected laugh. “I walked straight into that one, didn’t I? Score one for Nick. Okay, you can drive me to a motel if it suits your prudish sense of decency. Happy now?”

“Not really, no. I can’t leave Sean here alone.”

“He’s eight, Nick. You can leave him alone for the twenty minutes or so it would take to drive me to a motel.”

“He’s nine, and no, I can’t. I’ll call for a taxi.”

“Suit yourself.” Sandy flounced into the living room and sat down in one of the flowered couches, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor as the cushions tried to swallow her. “After all, we don’t want to upset the girlfriend, do we?”

“Claire has nothing to do with whether or not I leave my son alone in—oh, forget it. I’ll go look up the number of the cab service.”

“And I’ll try to claw my way out of this stupid couch,” Sandy called after him. “I would have thought you’d have turned this place into a real bachelor’s pad, Nicky. You know, a couple of those big wrap-around black leather couches, some chrome, maybe a bar over there in the corner. Oh, and…”

He ignored her as he opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out the telephone book, hoping the taxi service didn’t quit at ten, proving Sandy’s argument that Allentown might be growing, but it was still a long way from being her idea of Bright Lights, Big City.

“So you didn’t tell him.”

Sandy was standing behind him now, and Nick closed the telephone book and turned to look at her.

“No, I didn’t. He has your photo next to his bed, Sandy. He knows who you are. I didn’t want him to
get his hopes up when he saw you. He’ll think you’re back to stay, and we both know that isn’t true. You’ve had a disappointment, and you—”

“A
disappointment?
Is that what you call it, Nicky? Six years of my life, and he tosses me over for some, some—he had no right.
I
made him, Nicky. Me. My voice. My look. You just watch, he’ll be back.
Begging
.”

“Keep your voice down,” he told her. “Let me make some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee,” she said, heading for the far wall of cabinets. “You still keep the liquor in here? Yup, there it is. You’re nothing if not dependable, Nick.”

He watched as she found a glass and poured herself two inches of neat Scotch and then carried it over to the kitchen table. She sat down, sipped at the brown liquid, and then sighed. “Okay, that’s better. I’m better. Can I see him?”

Nick was back to looking up the number for the taxi service. He hadn’t known what he’d say if she asked him, not until he’d seen her, not until she’d said what she’d just said. “Sean? After what you said a minute ago? No. Absolutely not.”

“I’m his mother.”

“Not anymore. Not legally. You signed him away, just as you signed away our marriage. It’s too late for you to come back and try to reclaim either. Because that’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Sandy? Waving Sean and me in front of Richie, making him sweat?
Get rid of the other singer, Richie, or I go back to Nick and our son? Let me guess. You told him where he could find you, didn’t you? Luggage and all.”

She didn’t even bother to attempt looking embarrassed by her plan. “I sent him a text message, sure. He’s got to figure out that he can’t do this to me. Not now, and not ever again. He’s got to see that I’ve got options, that I don’t need him. It’s just for a couple of days, Nicky. You can do this for a couple of days, can’t you, help me out?”

“And Sean? What about him? Is he supposed to just be helping you out for a couple of days? That’s how you’re seeing this whole thing?”

“That’s different. He’ll want to see me, and once I started thinking about it, I knew I wanted to see him. I’m his mother, and I’ve got maternal feelings just like any mother. You said it, Nicky, he’s got my photo next to his bed. Or do you want to wait until he’s grown up and I tell him you kept me away from him for years and years, deliberately turned him against me? How do you think he’d react to that? A couple of days, and I’ll be gone. Or we can play hardball.”

“Using your own son,” Nick said in disgust. Yet he knew he was powerless in this one. Sean had always been curious about his mother. How could he deny the boy the chance, perhaps the only chance he’d ever have, of seeing her?