The Life List (22 page)

“Come here, Rudy. Let’s get you some food.”

Brad fills the water dish and I empty kibbles into the dog bowl. We move about in the kitchen like Fred and Ginger, each with our choreographed duties. He dries his hands on a terry-cloth towel, and I rinse mine in the sink. I turn off the water and he hands me the towel.

“How about a glass of wine?” I ask.

“I’d love one.”

I reach for a bottle of Pinot Noir, and notice Brad’s eyes roving the kitchen like a prospective buyer’s. “Ever think about buying this place?”

“This house? I love it here, but this house is Mother’s.”

“All the more reason to keep it.” He leans against the center island. “To me, this house looks like you, if that makes sense.”

I twist the corkscrew. “Really?”

“Really. It’s elegant and sophisticated, but it also has a warm, mellow side.”

Honey runs through my veins. “Thank you.”

“You should think about it.”

I pull a wineglass from the cupboard. “Could I even afford it? I’d have to buy it from my brothers, you know.”

“Sure, you’ll be able to afford it. Once you get your final inheritance.”

“But you’re forgetting, I need to fall in love and have babies. The love of my life might not want to live in my mother’s home.”

“He’ll love this place. And there’s a park just down the street, perfect for your kids.”

He says it with such certainty I almost believe him. I hand him
his wine. “Did my mom ever tell you why she wanted my brothers and me to keep the house for the first year?”

“Nope. But I’m guessing she knew you’d need a place to stay.”

“Yeah, that’s my guess, too.”

“And she probably figured the place is so nice you’d never want to leave.” He swirls his wineglass. “Which is why she included that thirty-day clause. She didn’t want you to get too comfy.”

“Wait … what?”

“That clause in the will. Nobody can stay more than thirty consecutive days. Remember?”

“No,” I say honestly. “You mean I can’t stay here? I have to find another place to live?”

“Yup. It’s all in the will. You have your copy, don’t you?”

I clutch my head. “I just bought a dog. Do you realize how hard it’ll be to find a place that takes animals? And my furniture! I gave it all to Joshua House. I don’t have money—”

“Hey, hey.” He sets down his glass and seizes both my wrists. “It’s going to be okay. Look, you spent the night at Joshua House last week, so technically the clock’s just starting. You’ve got plenty of time to find something.”

I pull free my wrists. “Back up a sec. You’re saying because they weren’t consecutive, technically I’ve only been here six days?”

“That’s right.”

“So, as long as I take a night or two away each month, like when I’m at Joshua House, I’ll never go over the maximum?”

“Uh, I don’t think—”

I break into a victorious smile. “That means I can stay here indefinitely. Problem solved!”

Before he has time to argue, I lift my water goblet. “Cheers!”

“Cheers,” he says, clinking my goblet. “No vino tonight?”

“I’m not drinking these days.”

His glass is almost to his lips when he lowers it. “Earlier, you said you’ve been exhausted lately, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’re not drinking alcohol?”

“That’s what I said, Einstein.”

“Holy shit. You’re prego.”

I laugh. “I think I am! I bought a pregnancy test but I’m too afraid to take it. I’ll wait until after the holidays.”

“You’re afraid it’ll be positive.”

“No! I’m afraid it’ll be negative. I’d be devastated.” I look up at him. “It’s not exactly the way I pictured it would be, being single and all. I’ll let Andrew decide whether he wants to be part of his child’s life. I won’t ask for child support. This is my dream, after all. I’ll raise my baby—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, B.B. You’re talking like this is a sure thing. Be careful you don’t, well, put the cart before the horse.”

“Stop with those silly horse puns.”

He holds me at arm’s length. “Seriously, Brett. I know you. You’re getting excited. Until you know for sure, put the brakes on.”

“Too late,” I say. “I’m beyond excited. For the first time since my mother’s diagnosis, I feel joy.”

W
e take our drinks into the living room where Rudy lies stretched in front of the fire. Brad plucks an envelope from his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. Goal number six.

“Shall we hear what your mom has to say about Rudy?”

“Please.” I sit down on an adjacent club chair, tucking my feet beneath me.

He pats his shirt pocket. “Damn. I don’t have my reading glasses.”

I leap from the chair and retrieve a pair of my mom’s reading glasses from her secretary desk. “Here you go,” I say, handing him a pair of fuchsia-and-periwinkle specs.

He scowls at the flashy frames, but puts them on anyway.

The sight of him in the gaudy women’s glasses sends me into hysterics. “Oh, my God!” I say, pointing at him. “You look hilarious!”

He grabs me and pulls me down onto the sofa, securing me in a headlock. “You think this is funny, huh?” He rubs his knuckles on the top of my head.

“Stop!” I say between fits of laughter.

Eventually, we sober, but in the skirmish I’ve ended up next to him on the sofa, and his left arm is still wrapped around the back of my neck. A better woman would scoot away. After all, he’s only on a break from his girlfriend. But me? I stay right where I am.

“Okay,” he says. “Behave.” With his right hand, he shakes the letter and manages to unfold it.

Snuggled next to him, I nod. “Okay, Granny. Read.”

He snarls his lip at me but begins the letter.

“ ‘Congratulations on your new dog, darling! I’m thrilled for you. You loved animals so much as a child, but at some point in your adulthood you must have tucked away that passion. I’m not sure why, though I have my suspicions.’ ”

“Andrew was a neat-freak. She knew that.”

“ ‘Do you remember the stray collie that befriended us when we lived in Rogers Park? You named him Leroy and begged us to let you keep him. You probably don’t know this, but I went to bat for you. I pleaded with Charles to let you keep Leroy, but he was quite persnickety. He couldn’t tolerate an animal in the house. Too smelly, he said.’ ”

I snatch the letter from Brad’s clutches and re-read the last two sentences. “Maybe I really did choose someone just like Charles, hoping to make him love me.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “But you realize it now. You’ll never have to please Charles Bohlinger—or any other man—to prove that you’re lovable.”

I let his words sink in. “Yeah. My mother’s secret freed me. If only she’d told me sooner.”

“ ‘Take good care of your mutt—it is a mutt, isn’t it? Will you allow your pet to sleep upstairs? If so, may I suggest you remove the duvet? It’s very costly to have it dry-cleaned.

“ ‘Go make memories with your pup, my love.

“ ‘Mom.’ ”

I take the letter from Brad and quickly re-read it. “She knows I’m living in her house. How’d she know that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she connected the dots.”

“Connected the dots?”

“Andrew didn’t want a dog, so since you have a dog, you’re not living with Andrew. If you’re not living with Andrew, the logical place you’d be is right here.”

I turn to Brad. “See, she wants me here. That thirty-day clause must have been a mistake.”

My voice sounds certain, but inside I wonder if I’m fooling myself.

B
rad and I lie slouched on the sofa, our stocking feet propped on the coffee table in front of us as the credits of
White Christmas
roll down the screen. Brad throws back the last of his wine and checks his watch. “Jesus, I better scoot.” He gets to his feet and stretches. “I told my mom I’d get an early start tomorrow. Only two days until Christmas and she’s waiting for me to help decorate the tree.”

In a brick Colonial in Champaign, he and his parents will stumble through Christmas pretending not to notice that one family member is missing, just like I will.

“Before you leave, you have to open your Christmas gift.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to get me anything.” He shoos his hand at me. “But since you did, let’s have at it. Go now. Chop! Chop!”

I search out the rectangular box beneath the tree. When he opens the package, he simply stares at it. Finally, he pulls the wooden ship from the box.

“She’s beautiful.”

“I thought it was appropriate, you being at the helm of my lifeboat and all.”

“Very thoughtful.” He kisses my forehead. “But you’re the captain of your ship,” he says softly. “I’m just a member of the crew.” He rises from the sofa. “Hold on.”

He disappears to the coat closet, then moseys back to the sofa holding a tiny silver box.

“For you.”

Inside the box, atop a blanket of red velvet, sits a gold charm—a miniature parachute.

“So you’ll always have a safe landing.”

I finger the charm. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Brad. And thank you for being here these past three months. I’m serious. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

He tousles my hair, but his eyes are somber. “Sure you could have. But I’m glad you let me come along for the ride.”

Without warning, he leans in and kisses me. It’s slower, more deliberate than our usual pecks, and my breath catches. I scramble to my feet. He’s had too much to drink, and the two of us, heartbroken and vulnerable, could be dangerous tonight. We walk to the foyer and I pull his coat from the closet.

“Happy Christmas,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Promise you’ll call the minute you get news about my father.”

“I promise.” But instead of taking his coat, he gazes down at me. Ever so gently, he reaches out and strokes my cheek with his knuckles. His eyes are so tender that, on impulse, I kiss his cheek.

“I want you to be happy.”

“Ditto,” he whispers, and takes another step closer to me. A little flutter invades my belly but I try to ignore it. He’s in love with Jenna. He smooths my hair and his eyes rove my face, as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Come here,” he says, his voice husky.

My heart batters in my chest.
Don’t ruin your friendship. He’s lonely. He’s hurt. He’s missing Jenna
.

Silencing all reason, I step into his arms.

He closes in around me and I hear him inhale, as if he’s breathing in every bit of me. He presses his body against mine, and I feel his heat, his hardness, his strength. I close my eyes and nuzzle against his chest. He smells of pine, and I can feel his heart beating against his chest. I burrow closer, unable to ignore the passion igniting in me. His fingers weave through my hair and I feel his lips on my ear, my neck. Oh, God, it’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this. Slowly, I lift my face to his. His eyes, heavy with passion, fall closed and he lowers his lips to mine. His mouth is warm and wet and delicious.

With every bit of strength I have, I gently push away.

“No, Brad,” I whisper, half hoping he doesn’t hear me. I want this man, but it’s wrong now. He and Jenna are taking a break. He needs to see that relationship through before he gets involved in another.

Finally, he disentangles his hands from my hair. Taking a step back, he rubs a hand over his face. When he looks up, his cheeks are marred with red splotches, whether from passion’s heat or embarrassment, I’m not sure.

“We can’t,” I say. “It’s too soon.”

His eyes look bruised and he gives me a rueful smile. With one hand, he pulls my head to his lips and kisses my forehead. “Why do you have to be so damn practical?” he asks, his voice touchingly raw.

I smile, but my heart aches. “Night, Brad.”

Standing on the concrete stoop in my stocking feet, I watch until his silhouette rounds the corner. As difficult as it was, I know I’ve made the right decision. Brad isn’t ready for a new relationship.

I step inside the house and close the door. Instead of the gloom that shadowed me when I was alone at Andrew’s, tonight I feel a glimmer of hope. Though Brad might not be ready to love again, the passion that stirred in me tonight tells me that perhaps I am. I turn to see Rudy, asleep on the rug. I’ve got a dog now. And by this time next year, I’ll have a baby. I gaze down at my flat belly, imagining myself in a couple of months sporting maternity clothes and stretch marks. The thought fills me with such bliss my heart nearly bursts.

C
hristmas morning arrives and I wake to Rudy’s snout ramming my rib cage. I scratch his head. “Merry Christmas, Rudy boy.” Immediately a mental list unfurls, revealing everything I need to do to prepare for my family dinner. My stomach cramps into a tight little ball.

“Let’s get moving, Rudy. We’ve got a party to give.” I wince from another wave of cramps and pull myself to my feet. The pain eases, and I slip into my robe. But when I glance down at the crumpled sheet, I see it.

A bright red stain.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

F
or a moment my mind refuses to accept the truth. I simply stare at the stain. Then my ribs fuse and I can’t breathe. I drop to my knees and bury my head in my hands. Beside me, Rudy barks and wedges his nose into my crossed arms. But I have nothing to give him right now. I’m empty.