Sweet Baklava (3 page)

"You're the guest of honor," Alexa replied. "Just do it so we can eat."

Nick put down his plate, reached for the hands of those on either side of him, winked at Paula, who stood across the room from him, and lowered his head. As he thanked the Lord for the blessings of family, friends, and the wonderful food before them, Paula knew his faith was as strong as ever, and she was relieved.

Paula didn't need to say much. The Papadopoulos clan did enough talking to mask her silence, which was fine with her. Only Nick seemed to notice, but he just smiled at her between bites. Occasionally Steph cast a questioning glance her way, but otherwise Paula was off the hook.

When they finished eating, Alexa grabbed Paula's plate, and Steph took Nick's—leaving no doubt they'd done some planning. Alexa stabbed her finger toward the backdoor. "Go now," she commanded. "Before someone comes in here and starts something."

Nick laughed as he swept an exaggerated, low bow. "After you, Madam."

Paula hesitated for a second, but Steph nudged her with her elbow since she had her hands full of plates and silverware. "Do what Alexa says. Hurry."

"Better listen to them," Nick said. "I've learned that my girl cousins are generally right . . . at least, I let them think that. It's easier to do what they say the first time, or . . ." He turned and grinned at Alexa, who pretended to scowl at him, cutting him off. "C'mon, Paula. I know a great spot where we can chat."

Nick took her by the hand and pulled her across the massive back lawn. They cut through the neighbor's backyard and continued down the street.

"Where are you taking me, Nick?" Paula asked, out of breath.

"You'll see."

Within a few minutes they came to a small field where no one could see them. Nick turned her around to face him.

"So tell me," he said softly, never taking his eyes off her. "What's really been going on around here?"

Paula tried to think of one of her clever quips, but her brain failed her so she just gave him a straight answer. "We've all been very busy lately."

Nick nodded impatiently. "Yeah, I know. Everyone's business is doing well, and you don't have time for anything else." He twirled his finger in the air and rolled his eyes. "Busy, busy, busy. But what's
really
going on?"

She made a face and shifted her weight as his gaze made her increasingly uncomfortable. "Nick, I don't know what you want from me. Your family is still the same. Everyone is either in the sponge business, works in a restaurant, or is a baker. Nothing's changed. They're all fine. They're all happy." She lifted her hands and dropped them to her sides.

"I mean with you, Paula. What's going on with you?"

His dark-eyed gaze was hot and questioning, and Paula's throat went dry. She looked at him in silence.

"Look, Paula, I know there's some unfinished business between us. I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything crystal clear."

"I think the business between us has been finished for a while." She shook her head. "Even so, nothing will ever be crystal clear, I'm afraid."

He took her hands in his. "Maybe not, but I'd like to find out why I feel the way I do."

She tilted her head, lifted one eyebrow, and met his gaze. "So tell me, Nick, how do you feel?"

He blinked and slowly turned his head from side to side. "It's strange. When I'm not here, I almost forget this place exists, except for occasional moments when I think about you."

"What do you think about?" Now she lifted both eyebrows as she waited for an answer. She wasn't going to let him off without some explanation. After all, he was the one with the big idea of talking.

"I don't know." Nick closed his eyes and lowered his head. When he opened his eyes again, she felt as though she'd been transplanted to another time—but she couldn't let him know that.

Paula looked down and shuffled her feet in the grass. "Well, you started this."

He grimaced. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? Okay, I remember all the fun times you and I had."

She glanced up at him and smiled. "We did have some good times."

Nick let out a little laugh. "Remember the night cruise on my uncle's boat?"

"How could I forget? We wanted to go on that dinner cruise with the rest of my class, but my mother wouldn't give me permission until it was too late to sign up."

Nick gently caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs. "But we had our own cruise."

"Yeah, on a sponge boat." Paula crinkled her nose as if the air smelled bad, but she wouldn't have traded the fishy smells for a whole night of the class cruise.

He feigned shock. "You got a problem with sponges? That's what made my family what it is today."

"No, Nick," she said softly. "Your family is wonderful, loving, caring, and considerate. It has nothing to do with sponges . . . or their smell before they're cleaned up."

He smiled down at her. "You're right, it smelled disgusting. But I had a great time on our private cruise—fishy smells aside."

"Yes, it was nice." In spite of Nick's obvious desire to reminisce, Paula needed to change the subject. It served no purpose, since he was still in the Air Force and obviously had to return. And it made her stomach hurt. "So when do you go back?"

"Six weeks. I accrued some time off."

"Your family is very happy to have you here," she said. "I'm glad you didn't let 'em down."

Nick tightened his grip on her hands. "How about you? Are you happy I'm here?"

She swallowed hard. "It's very nice to see you again."

"That doesn't sound like you, Paula." He dropped her hands and raked his fingers through his hair. Their gazes locked, and he sighed. "Let's go back."

When they returned to the mansion, all eyes riveted on them—but only for a couple of seconds. Steph studied Paula and Nick then diverted her family's attention by sticking her fingers in her mouth and giving a shrill whistle. "Okay, everyone, how about a game of charades?"

Amidst a few groans, Nick held up his hands. "Since I'm the guest of honor, I get to be a team captain. Who else wants to be one?"

"Nick, since you're such a wise guy and want to be in charge," Alexa said, "why don't you pick the other captain?"

Nick glanced around at everyone until his gaze settled on Paula. He lifted his eyebrows as if to ask if she was interested. She shook her head no, so he scanned the group again. Finally, he pointed to Alexa. "Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants. Why don't you be the other captain?"

She bobbed her head. "Only if I get to pick first."

Nick rolled his eyes and laughed. "Women!" He took a step back and swept out his hand. "Okay, you go first."

Alexa grinned, looked toward Paula, and pointed. "I want Paula."

A few people gasped, but Nick didn't seem fazed. "I want Aunt Ophelia."

Alexa pointed again. "Steph."

"Mama."

And so it went until all the adults and kids who were old enough to play charades were on a team.

At first Alexa's choosing her confused Paula. She thought part of the plan would be to have her on Nick's team. However, shortly after they started playing, the reason became evident. Nick was competitive, but he backed down for Paula.

After Team Alexa won, she high-fived Paula and Steph. Nick didn't waste any time making his way over to enemy territory. "You've been practicing while I was away."

Steph laughed as she planted a fist on her hip and shook her head. "You're kidding, right? Do you think all we do around here is play charades, waiting for our cousin to come home?"

"Well, don't you?" Nick teased.

"Not I," Alexa said.

"Me neither." Steph pulled Paula to her side. "And neither does she. In fact, Paula is so busy we hardly have time to talk, let alone play games."

Everyone, including Nick, turned to see her reaction. Paula wished Steph and Alexa weren't so obvious, but they were who they were, and she loved them anyway.

"I think it's been established that we're all busy," Paula agreed.

Steph scowled at her then mouthed something Paula couldn't understand.

"I'm sure," Nick said. "At any rate, I'm ready to crash. This welcome-home party is exhausting."

Paula lifted her hand in a wave. "It has been a long day. Thanks for inviting me, Steph."

She hugged everyone, including Nick, who held her an extra second or two. Paula made her way into the kitchen, where all the aunts congregated. "Thank you so much for including me, Mrs. Papadopoulos. I had a wonderful time."

Steph's mother smiled at her and looked at Nick's mother, Ursa. They both turned toward her with grins. "No thanks necessary, Paula. You'll always be like family around here."

Paula thought she'd slip out the back without having to see anyone again, but she was mistaken. She'd barely gotten to the bottom step when Nick came around from the side of the house. "I'll walk you to your car."

A
fter being around the noisy, rambunctious Papadopoulos family, her house seemed eerily quiet and still. Her ears still rang from the sounds of adult chatter and children's shrieking laughter.

Paula's tiny house had been a fixer- upper when she first bought it. It took a couple of years of painting, repairing, and shopping thrift stores to get it the way she wanted. Last summer Steph and Alexa helped her lay sod in the yard. As she parked her car in the driveway, she looked around at the place she called home. A little mulch and some flowers would make it her dream cottage.

With a sigh, she got out of her car, walked up the sidewalk to the tiny front porch, and let herself into the house. After turning on a few lights and tossing her handbag on the floor of her bedroom, she walked through her dining room on the way to the kitchen.

She stopped in front of the sideboard her grandmother had left her. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a photo album she had stuck away after she came home from college and learned that Nick had joined the Air Force.

As Paula turned each page, she saw the steady progression of their relationship, from her shy smile in the beginning to her comfortable posture with his arm draped over her shoulder while they posed for pictures on one of his uncles' boats. The Papadopoulos family accepted her as Steph's friend first and Nick's girlfriend later. They went out of their way to make her feel like one of them—and that hadn't changed.

Her mother was in some of the snapshots. Paula stared at one of the pictures with just her and her mother. She thought about her own family and how confused she'd been by her parents' divorce. Her father made a few feeble attempts to contact her, but her mom was so angry he gave up. He could have tried harder.

Paula understood both sides, which made it especially diffi- cult, since she lived with her mother, who took one low-paying job after another whenever someone offered her a quarter-anhour raise. She kept talking about how she'd be rich one day and buy the car of her dreams and wear the finest clothes— clothes that didn't come from thrift stores or sale racks.

She closed the photo album and placed it on top of the sideboard before turning around and closing her eyes. This had been an emotionally charged day—one she'd remember forever.

Seeing Nick was both good and bad. He looked great— better than ever, in fact. And based on the way he looked at her and some of the things he said, he felt the same way about her. Her mother said she glowed whenever she was with Nick. Until they met, Paula never saw herself as pretty, but his soft, caressing gaze made her feel like she'd just been crowned Miss Alabama State Fair.

The sound of the doorbell jolted her back to the moment. She leaned forward and looked through the peephole. What was he doing here? It hadn't even been an hour since she left Nick's homecoming party. With all her "spies" in the Papadopoulos family, someone should have called and warned her.

After unbolting the lock, she flung the door open. He stood there grinning at her, a flower in one hand and a small pastry box in the other. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." She took a step back and gestured toward the room. "Wanna come in?"

"Sure, if that's okay." For the first time in their history, he seemed tentative as he stepped forward. "Your place looks nice. Very you."

"Of course it's me. I live here." She paused. "Alone."

"Yes, I knew that." He shuffled for a moment before thrusting the flower toward her. "I hope you still like white roses."

Paula took it and smiled. "Love 'em. Thanks." She glanced down at the box in his other hand. "Did you bring me something to eat?"

A playful grin spread over his lips. "Yeah, I sort of remembered the way to your heart—with the help of Aunt Ophelia that is. And I pulled you away before you had a chance to eat your favorite dessert." He held out the box.

"Baklava! You brought baklava!"

Nick belted out a belly laugh. "Some things haven't changed."

"Not when it comes to dessert. Let me go stick this in the fridge."

He feigned a hurt look. "You're not going to ask me to join you for dessert?"

"Oops. Sorry. Want some baklava?"

Folding his arms, he shook his head. "Not a chance. No way will I come between a woman and her baklava."

"Your mama didn't raise a fool."

As he followed her to the kitchen, he glanced around at her décor. "I recognize a few of these things from your mom's place. How's she doing?"

Paula shrugged. "Fine, I guess." She opened the refrigerator and moved some items to make room for the prize in her hands. "I don't see her much now that she's remarried."

"How about your dad? Is he still in Alabama?"

"Are you kidding?" Paula straightened and looked Nick in the eye. "He's not going anywhere. That man's not about to leave his grits."

"He can get grits here."

She shook her head. "It's not the same. Daddy always told me he loves the South, and in his mind Florida is not the South. It's a relocation camp for Yankees."

Nick burst out in laughter. "He has an excellent point. How about you?"

"I like it here. Obviously." She leaned back against the counter and tilted her head. "So now that you've buttered me up with a flower and baklava, wanna tell me what you're doing here?"

"You still don't mince words, do you?"

"Why should I? Do you want me to be like everyone else?"

"No, one of the things I like about you is your directness."

"Okay, so when are you going to give me the same courtesy?"

Nick hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and glanced at the floor before looking her in the eye. "I wanted to talk about some things that have been on my mind lately."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like church and your shop, and . . ." He took a tentative step toward her. "And us."

Paula opened her mouth, but she couldn't think of a retort, so she clamped it shut.

"Sorry. I guess that was too abrupt."

"No, I asked for it. Why don't we start with the first thing and work through your list, one item at a time."

Nick smiled and nodded. "Sounds good. I'd like to pick you up for church tomorrow."

"What makes you think I still go to church?" Her eyes held a playful gleam.

"Don't forget, I have informants."

"So your cousins are double agents. It's that old blood-isthicker-than-friendship thing. I get it." She moved toward the kitchen table, and he followed. They both sat down.

"So answer me, Paula. Could I pick you up for church tomorrow?"

"Okay, sure, that's fine. But I've been going to Sunday school, and I don't want to miss."

"That's cool. I like Sunday school."

"Anything else you wanted to discuss about church?" Her question was a challenge.

He sighed and shook his head. "Steph told me when you and that . . . sorry, can't remember his name . . . the associate pastor you were seeing . . ." He twisted his mouth and snorted. "I feel like I'm back in high school."

Paula leaned back and howled. "You're acting like it too. No, Drew and I broke up shortly after you reenlisted."

"Just my luck. I might have stuck around if I knew you'd be available."

She lifted her hands. "Whoa. Don't blame me for anything you do."

"No, that's not what I mean. I came here hoping you might want to . . ." He sucked in a breath and slowly blew it out. "This isn't going very well."

"Sorry. I think I broke your train of thought."

"So what time do I need to pick you up for Sunday school?" he asked.

"How about eight-thirty? The class starts at nine, and I like to get there early."

"So you can get a seat front and center, right?"

"Yep. I don't want to miss anything." The softness in her eyes defied the set of her jaw. He'd always loved Paula's blend of strength and vulnerability.

He shook his head. "You've never been one to miss anything, Paula."

"And I don't intend to start now," she replied, sounding more flippant than she felt, considering how her knees suddenly started wobbling. "Did you need anything else, Nick? There's some stuff I need to do, and, well . . ." She glanced around and tried to come up with something that wouldn't be a lie.

"Okay, I get the message. I'll be here at eight-thirty."

After Paula closed the door behind Nick, she leaned against it and slowly slid down until she sat on the floor. Hoo-boy, that man sure did make her heart gallop. She thought she'd be over him by now, but obviously he still could get her all charged up.

Paula didn't need an alarm clock to wake her up for church. She hopped out of bed, threw back the curtains, and held her face up to the sunlight, smiling. Seeing Nick had renewed her excitement.

Then she remembered he was leaving in six weeks. This was just a vacation for him. And then what?

Her smile faded, and a sense of dread washed over her. L
ord, please don't let me fall so hard I can't get up.

She rushed through the house getting her coffee, dressing, and tossing things into a closet so he wouldn't see her mess. A glance at her hands made her cringe. She should have taken Steph up on her invitation to get a mani-pedi.

Nick was five minutes late. The second he knocked, she opened the door.

"You must have been standing right there," he said.

"You're late."

"Um . . ." A grin spread over his lips. "Guilty as charged."

"Do they let you get away with that in the Army?"

"Air Force," he corrected.

Why couldn't she keep that straight? "Air Force, whatever. I thought the military was into punctuality."

"They are." His smile turned into a frown. "Somehow I get the feeling you're angry at me."

"No, Nick, I'm not mad. It's just that I've been a little stressed." She left out the fact that she started feeling that way as soon as she heard he was coming home.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe later. But now we need to go to church." She grabbed her sweater and handbag from the table by the door and nudged him outside. After she locked the deadbolt, she nodded toward the Town Car at the curb. "Nice wheels. Whose is it?"

"Uncle Arthur's."

"Yeah, I figured. I can't see any of your cousins driving a land yacht."

He laughed. "You're still the same old Paula."

Tilting her head to one side, she cast a teasing glance his way. "Of course I am. Who else would I be?"