Borrowed Baby (16 page)

"No. Tustin."

Liz grabbed the small bit of good news and clung to it for all it was worth. "Then we can see her. Casie, I mean."

"We?"

Why was he saying it as if it were some sort of foreign word? As if he hadn't held her, kissed her? As if their souls hadn't touched? "Yes, 'we.' I love her too, Griff."

"I never said I love her," he retorted. To love was to hurt. He wasn't going to hurt anymore. Nothing mattered. Nothing.

"You didn't have to."

He wanted her to go, to go before he broke down. "Maybe you'd better go home."

She swallowed, pulling her courage to her. "All right, after we decorate the tree."

She had to get him moving, had to get through to him somehow. If she didn't do it now, she'd lose forever. "You have a tree strapped to the roof of your car that's going to turn brown if you don't put it in water."

"Take it home."

"I already have a tree."

"Have two," he said bitterly. He had let her convince him that dreams were possible. He had believed. He had been an idiot. Nothing ever changed. Not for him. "Give one to that friend of yours. What's-his-name." He waved his hand impatiently. "Vinnie."

"Vinnie has his own tree. He doesn't need another. You do," she insisted.

"I don't need anything." He clenched his fists as he shouted. "Now will you just get out of here and leave me alone?"

She wanted to lash out at him, to scream at him and tell him what a fool he was for turning his back on what they had, but she knew that wouldn't do any good. He wouldn't hear her. He had shut her out completely.

"All right." Liz mustered all the dignity she could. "I'll leave the decorations on the doorstep in case you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind." His face was dark and expressionless again as he struggled to regain control.

She raised her chin up high. "Then, Officer Foster, you're a bigger damn fool than I thought you were."

She saw the crumpled photograph on the floor. Stooping down, she picked it up and looked at it. She barely saw it through her tears. Silently, she put it in her purse and walked out.

He heard the door slam hard. She left him standing in the dark. In more ways than one.

Liz moved restlessly around her living room, picking up different Christmas knickknacks, adjusting them and then putting them down again. She had no idea what she was handling.

For possibly what felt like the hundredth time that day, she went to the window by the front door, pushed aside the curtain and looked out. He wasn't anywhere in sight. Liz let the filmy curtain fall from her hand.

He wasn't coming. Why was she doing this to herself? The man just didn't care.

She missed him, missed him terribly. Missed seeing him trudge up her walk with Casie in his arms. It was only one day and yet she felt as if she were going through a whole agonizing spectrum of pain. She ran her hands along her arms. Was he suffering like this? She no longer felt as though she had any answers, especially when it came to what Griff felt .

Could he just drop out of her life like this without a word? Without even goodbye? Didn't he feel anything? Was it only her? Had she only been fooling herself all this time?

No, it wasn't one-sided. It wasn't. He was just being pigheaded and stupid.

So what else was new?

She ached. Everything" inside felt twisted, lost, empty. It wasn't right that she should feel this way on Christmas Eve, so alone, so deserted.

This was the way he had felt when he was a boy, Liz thought with a sudden pang. But she wanted to fill that void for him, to erase some of that loneliness from his soul. He was the one who wouldn't let her.

Damn him and his male pride.

Her eyes misted again. She swung around, searching for a tissue, and knocking over a heralding angel that was standing next to the manger. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she bent over to pick up the broken figure from the floor. The angel was permanently separated from his trumpet.

Liz put the two pieces aside on the coffee table. She'd fix the statue later. Much later. Right now, she couldn't quite seem to function. She had no idea how she had managed to get through the day. She remembered only bits and pieces of it. Her group of charges were even more rambunctious than usual, excitedly anticipating Christmas and a cache of presents. The boys had all wanted to know what had happened to Casie and why she wasn't there. Alec had even drawn a picture for her as a gift and had painstakingly wrapped it. He had been disappointed that Casie wasn't there to receive it. Liz had tried to tell them as best as possible without crying.

She had even conjured up a festive facade from somewhere and played games with the boys and sang Christmas carols. The hardest part had been going through the motions of a Christmas play she had put together in the past two weeks. Casie was to have played Baby Jesus. A doll was found to take her place. None of the parents who attended the performances had noticed that there was anything wrong.

Only Liz knew that things would never be right again.

Wandering around, she accidentally kicked over the suitcase she had packed last night. Righting it, she ran her fingers over the handle. She had told herself that she would leave for her parents' house right after the bòys had been picked up. But that had been hours ago. She had procrastinated, waiting, long after the last boy, Winston, had gone, candy cane in hand, yelling out, "Merry Christmas, Whiz!" Waiting for Griff to come, to call.

But he hadn't.

"No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus," she murmured looking at the clock.

Six-thirty.

He got off work at five. He was probably home. Maybe if she—

No, darn it. No. All the overt moves had been hers. She had tried, tried her hardest to show him the way, to bridge that gap between him and the rest of the world. She had put on her seven-league boots and met him three quarters of the way. If he didn't come to her on his own, it wouldn't be any good.

It wasn't any good now, either.

She reshuffled the figures that were arranged around the manger, closing the ranks now that the angel had abruptly departed.

The doorbell rang and she dropped a shepherd.

Her heart hammering in her throat, she ran up to the door and swung it open. A moment later, she felt the light go out of her soul.

"Oh, hi, Vinnie." She took a step back. "Come on inside."

Vinnie walked in, opening two buttons on his long black coat and loosening his white silk scarf. He eyed her curiously. "I've heard more enthusiastic greetings given to investigating IRS agents."

"Sorry." Forcing her mind to function, she realized that he was dressed formally. "Did I forget that we were going somewhere?"

She hoped not. She wasn't in the mood to go anywhere there were crowds of people and cheery voices. Not tonight. Her mind had been in a total fog ever since she had left Griffs house. She had lain awake all night waiting for him to call, fighting the temptation to pick up the phone herself. She didn't think she could go on pretending to be happy any longer. She had given her all to the children and she felt utterly drained.

"No. I just dropped by to wish you a Merry Christmas and to give you this." Vinnie handed her a small box wrapped in white tissue paper. There was a dark blue bow with streamers attached to it. "I know what a sucker you are for that type of thing—" he nodded at the box "—although it really has no musically redeeming value."

She stared at the gift in her hand for a minute, then came to. "Oh, I have one for you, too, under the tree." It was a sweater she had picked out in his favorite colors.

It took her a few minutes to find it even though she had put the gaily wrapped box beneath the tree in the past half hour. It was, she realized, as if her soul was shell-shocked. She had hoped too much and had been disappointed. Was this the way Griff had always felt?

Oh, God, Griff, how awful.

When she didn't turn around, Vinnie tapped her on the shoulder. "Would you like to go out with me tonight?" he asked gently, his voice full of understanding.

She turned around, the first tears she had ever let him see shimmering in her eyes. "I'd make a terrible date tonight. Here." She thrust the present toward him in an effort to change the subject.

"Thanks." He pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. "You could never make a terrible date." He watched as she dabbed at her eyes. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." '

"This is even worse than I thought." He tucked his gift under his arm. "Come with me, Liz. They're playing Handel's Messiah. It'll perk you up. I can get you an extra ticket at the box office. I've actually got a date for tonight, but we can make it a threesome."

She almost said yes, but then she shook her head. "No, I feel like being by myself. You go ahead and enjoy yourself."

He shrugged, shaking his head, obviously not pleased. "Whatever you want, Liz." He pushed the handkerchief back into his pocket. "But if you ask me, he doesn't deserve you."

She kissed his cheek. "You're very sweet."

Vinnie opened the door and then turned around again. "I know." He grinned. "Say hi to your family for me tomorrow." He moved forward and kissed her cheek. "Merry Christmas, friend."

"Merry Christmas, Vinnie."

Liz closed the door and crossed back to the coffee table. Bending down, she picked up the shepherd she had dropped when Vinnie had rung the doorbell. The shepherd's head had fallen off.

"At this rate, there won't be anyone left at the manger by Christmas morning."

She tried to rouse herself by unwrapping Vinnie's present. It was a collection of Christmas carols, sung by different artists, on a compact disc.

"No musically redeeming value." She repeated his words and shook her head.

Trust Vinnie to get in a review even about his. She placed the CD into the stereo set she had in the corner of the room. Familiar voices soon filled the room, singing about the joys of Christmas. Liz waited for herself to be carried away the way she usually was.

She wasn't.

Nothing seemed to help.

There wasn't anything left to do but go to bed and get an early start in the morning, she thought unhappily. Getting down on her knees, she was about to unplug the Christmas lights on the tree when she heard the doorbell again. Liz inched her way back out slowly, careful not to overturn the tree. The way her luck was running, that would be next.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time. Someone was leaning on the bell.

Vinnie had probably returned to make one last pitch to get her to go with him, she thought, crossing to the door. He really did have a good heart. Maybe it was time he paid another call to her cousin Rose. Rose would be just about the right age for him now.

You can't even handle your own affairs, what right have you to play matchmaker for anyone else?

She swung open the door. "Vinnie, I really can't go with you—"

"It's not Vinnie."

She raised her eyes to look at him. Griff stood on her doorstep, his suede jacket hanging open, a wary, hopeful, yet hesitant look on his drawn face. "No," she whispered, afraid to believe he was actually here. "It's not."

"Can I come in?" he asked. "You've got every right to say no, but I'd really like to come in. I don't want to be alone tonight."

She came to and realized that she was blocking the doorway. Liz stepped aside and gestured toward the living room. "Sure. Why not? There's lots of room." Her voice sounded high and tinny to her ear. It probably had to do with the sudden, huge knot in her stomach.

He walked in, feeling awkward and uncertain. Like a fumbling boy again, he thought.

"I didn't know whether you'd still be here." He was afraid to look into her eyes, afraid to see rejection there. Instead, he looked around the room. He saw the broken figures on the coffee table and wondered about them. "I thought you might have already left for your mother's. You said you did for the holidays." The words were coming hard and tripped over each other. He wasn't any good at this. But he wasn't any good done anymore, either.

"I'm leaving in the morning. See," she said, pointing to the suitcase in the corner, "packed and ready." Her hands felt damp. She rubbed her palms on her jeans.

"Yeah." He let out a long sigh. "Am I keeping you from something?"

"No. I was just about to go to bed." She felt edgy, anxious, afraid to hope, afraid not to.

"But you said something about not going with Vinnie when you opened the door—"

"He was by here earlier. He wanted to take me to see Handel's Messiah." To keep her hands busy, she picked up the blue ribbon that had been on Vinnie's gift. As she spoke, she wound one of the long, thin streamers around her finger.

"I thought you liked that sort of thing."

"I do."

He watched as she toyed with the ribbon. Was she as nervous as he was? Why? She was the one with all the answers. "Then why didn't you go?"

"I, um, wanted to be alone tonight." She looked away. "I didn't much feel like celebrating."

"Neither did I." He watched as she kept winding the ribbon around. "Do you realize that your finger's turning blue?"

She looked down. He was right. She had wound the ribbon around her finger tightly without realizing it. It wouldn't unwind when she tried to work it free. The ribbon had somehow gotten tangled. She yanked at it and managed only to make it squeeze her finger harder.

"Here, let me." He took her finger and freed it in short order, grateful for somewhere to look besides her eyes. There was so much hurt there.

"Thanks." Liz massaged her throbbing finger, feeling like an idiot. She snatched back a fragment of their conversation to divert his attention. "You never feel like celebrating."

"I have." He wanted to take her in his arms, to hold her, but he knew that he didn't have the right. Not yet. "Lately." He dropped the crumpled ribbon on the coffee table.

She raised her eyes to his face slowly. "You didn't sound like it yesterday."

"Yesterday Sally took Casie away."

"But not forever." Her voice rose, swelled by anger. "You can still see Casie. You can still love her." Hurt feelings came to the surface, demanding restitution. She couldn't hold them back any longer. She had nothing to lose anymore. "You pushed me away. There was no reason for you to treat me the way you did."

"Yes, there was," he told her quietly.

"What?" she cried. "What possible reason could there have been?"

"You opened a door inside me I couldn't shut anymore. Having Sally appear and take Casie back so suddenly made me remember that everything I ever held close was always being taken away from me. And you would go away too, after I had grown to need you." He put his hands on her shoulders, not trusting himself to hold her just yet. "I couldn't run away from you anymore, so I wanted you to run away from me, on my terms. That way it wasn't supposed to hurt. But it's too late for that."

"What are you saying?"

She needed words, more words. She was afraid to take what he had given her and run, afraid that she was writing her own meaning into it.

He wanted to sift her hair through his fingers, to bury his face in it and lose himself in her scent. To be reborn.

"That I had managed to successfuly dam up my feelings until I thought that I didn't need anyone or anything. I did such a good job, I even fooled myself." He touched her face gently, stirring the embers within them both. "And then you came, barging your way into my life—"

"I beg your pardon. Who did the barging?" Tears formed again, but this time she didn't wipe them back. They were tears of joy.

He grinned. "For once, you're going to let me finish a sentence. And then you came," he repeated, growing serious, "and I realized that nothing had changed, not really. Outside, I looked like I was in control, I was strong. But inside—" His voice softened as he looked into her eyes, seeing his own reflection there, seeing his own soul. "Inside therewas still this vulnerable little boy who just wanted someone to love him back."