A Bride After All (12 page)

“I told you, Nick, that’s your decision, not mine. Do this, and I’ll go away, never bother you again.
And I’ll be better at this mom thing. I’ll send postcards, and gifts and stuff. Call him once in a while now that he’s old enough to hold a conversation—nine is old enough for that, right? I promise, I’ll do all of that. But if you won’t help me? Hey, maybe then I’ll have no choice but to stay here in Dulltown, forever, and forget Vegas. There’s that new casino over in Bethlehem. I shouldn’t have much trouble finding a band, getting a gig going there. Pennsylvania is loaded with casinos now, and the Jersey shore, and all of those casinos. Live entertainment, Nick, they’re all doing it. Vegas isn’t everything.”

Nick closed the telephone book and slid it back in the drawer. “Monday. You can stay for the weekend, but then that’s it, Richie or no Richie. That’s the offer, Sandy, and then you’re gone.”

“Monday? That’s cutting it close. But Richie should be here by then, begging me to come back. He never thought I’d do it, pack up and leave. But I’ve called his bluff. All right. It’s a deal.”

“Lucky me,” Nick mumbled under his breath. “I’ll put you in the downstairs guest room. And you stay there quietly until I get Sean off to school tomorrow. I’ll prepare him on the way home after classes and his basketball game.”

“Prepare him? Anyone would think you’re going to give him bad news.”

Nick opened his mouth to give her an answer to that one, but then changed his mind. They might have several battles ahead of them in the next few
days. He should save his ammunition. “I’ll get some sheets from the linen closet and you can make up the bed.”

When she hadn’t heard from Nick by noon, Claire worried that her cell phone battery had gone dead. But it hadn’t. She checked to make sure she had the thing on vibrate, as she was hiding it in the pocket of her exam coat, and had not turned off the ringer by mistake. She hadn’t.

But then one of the nurses had told everyone that one of the parents had been late for her son’s post-ear infection checkup appointment because of some sort of situation at the courthouse that was playing out right now on local television.

“Some guy appearing in domestic court or whatever it’s called pulled a gun and is threatening to blow his brains out if he can’t see his kids,” the nurse informed her. “Like that’s going to help his case, right? Anyway, the mom got all caught up in watching the live report, and almost forgot the appointment.”

Hearing the news, Claire decided that Nick was probably at the courthouse with all the other reporters, and was too busy to phone her.

So she relaxed. Sort of.

He’d call. As soon as he had time, he’d call her.

By four o’clock the suicidal guy had long since been talked into turning over his weapon, and still Nick had not called her.

A little before six, Claire was sitting in Chessie
Burton’s living room above Second Chance Bridal after the two shared some Chinese take-out, telling her everything that had happened the previous evening.

“Naturally, she’s gorgeous,” she told her new friend as Chessie handed her a tall glass of iced tea. “She looks like all those little blondes from the exercise class at the community center—but with better makeup. I felt like a giant, standing next to her. I don’t know if she’s a natural blonde, but that doesn’t matter, does it? And she’s got this husky sort of voice, and she had a bunch of suitcases with her, and—”

“Would you just listen to you?” Chessie interrupted, laughing. “A skinny shrimp of a dyed blonde wearing tons of makeup and with a smoker’s rasp shows up, and you call that competition? Get real.”

“I know, none of that matters. What matters is that Nick was married to her, that she gave him a son, and that she walked out on him. He didn’t leave her, they didn’t decide to divorce. She left him flat.”

“She left him with a three-year-old to raise, Claire. So she could be a rock star? Yes, I can see why Nick would welcome her back with open arms, forgive her everything. Are you nuts?”

This was why Claire had come to Second Chance Bridal. She knew Chessie Burton was the sort of person who cut directly to the chase, said what was on her mind. She needed that right now.

“I know, he has every reason to hate her, actually.
But she is Sean’s mother. People grow up, Chessie. She might deeply regret what she did six years ago. If there’s any chance that she did, that she wants a second chance with Sean, how can Nick refuse to let her back into their son’s life?”

“Leaving you…where?” Chessie prodded. “Because now I think we’re getting to the heart of this thing.”

Claire put down her glass, the contents untouched. “I’m that obvious?”

“That maybe you’ve been weaving little fantasies of you and Nick and Sean being a family? You told me about the house, which sounds like something out of a fairy tale. You love Nick, we’ve established that, or at least I have. I can see you’re still second-guessing yourself, probably because everything has been moving pretty fast. You love Sean, and who wouldn’t, he’s a sweetheart. Marylou was looking like a genius—and you didn’t hear me say that one! And then, bam, just as the fairy tale is about to get to the happily ever after part, along comes the witch. Don’t you just hate it when that happens?”

Claire laughed in spite of herself. But then she sobered. “So, Chessie, am I in love with Nick, or the fairy tale?”

“Oh no, I’m not going there. Only you can answer that question, babe.”

“And I don’t blame you. You know, maybe Sandy showing up right now is a good thing.”

“Really? Okay, Pollyanna, explain that one. Because I’m really not seeing it.”

“Sean wants a mother. I don’t think I’m so wonderful that he just instantly fell in love with me. He’s probably been looking for a mother for a long time, the poor kid, and I just happen to be the person who showed up. So, thinking that way, it’s also the perfect time for Sandy to show up. Because he has to be wondering where she is, why she left him. Now, in a way, he’ll have a choice. I mean, if Nick and I…you know.”

“You really think Sean would see it that way? Either-or? Daddy and Claire, or Mommy? That’s a little heavy for a nine-year-old, don’t you think?”

Claire shook her head. “Obviously you aren’t around children very much. They may not be emotionally mature enough to really sort through heavy thinking like that, but that doesn’t mean they don’t think it. They can be very black and white, with no shades of gray. They’re also the wisest creatures on earth when it comes to sensing who loves them and who doesn’t. Not that Nick should be worried for himself, and I hope he isn’t. He’s been both mother and father to Sean for as long as the child can remember. But then again, Sandy’s got the added bonus of being the glamorous mommy dropping out of the sky.”

Chessie leaned back on the couch cushions and stared at Claire. “Wait a minute. I thought you were thinking about Sandy and you. Comparison mommy shopping, you know? But when we get right down to
the nitty-gritty here, you’re worried about
Nick
? Sean choosing Sandy over Nick? Well, that settles that one, doesn’t it? Now I will answer you. You love him.”

Claire considered this for some moments, and then smiled, even as her eyes stung with tears. “Yes. I guess I do, don’t I? Now, tell me what it means that I think I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t call me soon?”

“Dad?”

Nick looked up from the computer screen. He’d filed his story on the courthouse standoff hours ago, but that hadn’t kept him from reading over the copy again, just to satisfy himself that he’d stuck to the facts and not injected any opinion into the piece. In a few days, if the guy was released from his mandatory seventy-two-hour psych hospitalization, he might be able to interview him, as a follow-up to his series.

“Yeah, Slugger?” He closed the laptop and patted the chaise cushion, inviting his son to sit down beside him. “How’s it going in there?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You guess? You want to talk about it?”

Sean shot a look toward the patio doors. “She looks just like the picture in my room, doesn’t she?”

Sandy’s looks hadn’t been Nick’s first choice of topic, but he’d let Sean ease his way into whatever it was he wanted to say. “You have her same color hair. I know it doesn’t look it, but ladies like to make their hair different colors sometimes. And her nose.
You’ve got your mother’s nose. You should probably thank her for that,” he said with a smile as he touched a fingertip to the bump on his own nose.

“Uh-huh. But I’m tall, like you. I’m almost as tall as her. So that’s okay.”

Nick had a million questions he longed to ask, but decided to let Sean guide him. Which meant that neither of them said anything for several minutes.

It hadn’t been easy, telling Sean that his mother was in town and wanted to see him. He’d waited until after the basketball game, not wanting to put anything too heavy on him until then, and then had broken the news over hotdogs and fries at Sean’s favorite shop. He could eat a double helping of vegetables tomorrow.

Sean hadn’t reacted in any of the many ways Nick might have supposed. He’d just nodded, said, “Okay,” and that had been the end of it. Sandy had been waiting in the foyer when they walked into the house, ready to swoop Sean into a hug, but Sean had stayed fairly stiff in her embrace.

That, as Claire had said last night, had been
uncomfortable
.

Sandy had asked what they should do for dinner—another uncomfortable moment. She looked as if she might snipe at him for not considering her, but she’d managed to force a smile and say it didn’t matter, she wasn’t hungry anyway…she just wanted to see her baby.

Baby
.
Not a great choice of words, Sandy,
Nick knew.

Part of him had wanted to stay close to Sean, act as a buffer or whatever, but another part of him knew that this first meeting was something Sandy and Sean had to handle between them. After about a half hour, he’d suggested that Sean take Sandy to his room, to show her his basketball and karate trophies, and then come out onto the patio to try to lose himself on the Internet.

Now a full hour had passed, and all Sean had to say was “Okay, I guess.”

“She didn’t know what grade I’m in,” Sean said now.

“She hasn’t been here, Slugger. It’s understandable.”

“She said I should be in your old bedroom, the one upstairs over the garage. She said you used to sneak out at night. Did you used to do that, Dad? Is that why I’m still in the baby room next to yours?”

Nice. Sandy had been in the house less than twenty-four hours, and she was trying to undermine him as Sean’s father. “My old room is clear on the other side of the house. I’d rather have you near me.”

Sean nodded. “But can I have that room when I’m older?”

“Sure,” Nick told him. “Right after I find the key for the deadbolt and hide it somewhere.”

Sean smiled at that, but it was a small smile. “Where was she, Dad? I asked her, but she just said she was lots of places, and that’s why she didn’t take me with her, and so that’s why she made you keep me.”

Nick felt his hands drawing up into fists and consciously relaxed his fingers. “Your mother didn’t
make
me do anything, Sean. You’re here, the two of us are here, because you’re my son, and I love you more than anything or anyone else in this world. You…you must have misunderstood your mother.”

There, he’d been charitable. He’d given an excuse for how Sandy had been trying to make herself look good and him look bad. Damn her.

“Okay. Was she in jail?”

Nick gave an involuntary bark of laughter at the question. You could read all the books, listen to all the experts—but nobody could really figure out how a child’s mind works.

“No, Sean, your mother wasn’t in jail. She sings with a band, remember? Bands travel a lot.”

“So she’ll be leaving soon? To travel?”

Nick heard the hope in his son’s voice, and for a moment, actually felt bad for Sandy. She’d gone hunting everywhere for fulfillment, and now she’d lost the only thing that could ever have any lasting meaning: the unquestioning love of her own child.

“Is that what you want, Sean?” he asked his son, realizing that he had only referred to his mother as
she
this whole time, and never
Mom
, or
Mommy
.

“We’re supposed to go to the movies tomorrow, with Miss Ayers. Remember, Dad?”

“Yes, I remember. But that was before your mother…arrived.”

“Oh, she doesn’t want to go. I asked her. She said
she wants to stay here to wait for somebody who’d better show up if he knows what’s good for him.”

There was something else Sandy hadn’t learned, thanks to her absence. Kids remember everything you don’t want them to remember, and repeat most of it word-for-damning-word when you’d least like them to.

“But then I guess Miss Ayers wouldn’t want to come back here with us anyway, not if she’s here.”

“Why would you think that, Champ?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Da-ad, you were kissing Miss Ayers the other night, remember? She might get mad if she knew that…that
she
was here.” He got to his feet, looking at his father as if he worried for his sanity. “We like Miss Ayers. You don’t want to mess this up, Dad.”

Nick opened his arms to his son. “Come here,” he said, gathering Sean into a hug, kissing his hair. “You’re something else, Champ, you know that?”

Sean returned the hug, holding on tight for a few moments, but then pushed himself free. “So I can go play video games in my room now? I don’t have to talk to her anymore?”

“Sean, she is your mother. You have to at least give her a chance.”

“I suppose,” he said, his slim shoulders slumping. “But I don’t think she cares all that much. She was on her phone when I came out here, and it was like she just wanted me out of the room.”

Nick got to his feet, his heartbeat accelerating. “On the phone?”

“Yeah, somebody called Richie. She just pushed me out of the den and closed the door. I’m not dumb, Dad. She doesn’t want to be here. So why should I want her here?”