Coming Home (65 page)

His stomach did a hard somersault.  “Jesus, Ma, why didn’t you
tell me then?”

“She was a married woman.  You weren’t brought up that way.  And
much as I loved her, I couldn’t see any good ever coming of it.”

“What did she say?  Today?”

“Not nearly enough.  That’s what tipped me off.  Suddenly,
everything fell into place.  What in God’s name did you do to that sweet girl?”

Blood rushed to his face as he remembered precisely what he’d done
to that sweet girl, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing a man discussed
with his mother.  He squared his jaw, and she rolled her eyes.  “For the love
of Mike,” she said, “you’re blushing like a seventeen-year-old virgin bride.  
I’ve been married for forty-three years and I’ve raised nine babies.  I think I
should know by now what it is that men and women do together.  That’s not what
I was talking about, although it does clarify things a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean, my hardheaded son, is that although you may be an
alley cat, Casey’s not the kind of woman who’d sleep with a man she doesn’t
love.  And if sleeping together is what you’ve been doing, you’d best make
things right with her.”

“After the fight we had,” he said grimly, “she’d probably shoot
first and ask questions later.”

“Hmph.”  She poured the batter from the mixing bowl into a greased
cake pan.  “And what was it you fought about?”

He crammed his hands into his pockets and began to pace around the
kitchen.  “It was stupid,” he said.

“It usually is.  What happened?”

“I found out she still had all Danny’s stuff.  His clothes in the closet,
his shoes still under the bed.  His goddamn underwear still in the drawers.”

“Mmn hmn.  And?”

“I freaked.”

“And she told you what a flaming ass you were being.”

“Jesus, Ma, whose side are you on, anyway?”

“I’m not taking sides.  I’m just trying to figure out what manner
of stupidity the two of you have been embroiled in.  Did you think she’d stop
loving Danny just because he was dead?”

“No!” he said.  And sighed.  “Yes.  Oh, hell, I don’t know.”

“God help us.  He was her husband for what—thirteen years?  They
had a child together.  The man was her whole life.  Did you really think you
could take his place?”

Bleakly, he said, “Pretty stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, Robbie, inside that tall, good-looking man, you’re still just
a little boy.  Of course you can’t take his place.  It’s already taken.  You
have to take your own place.”

“My own place?” he said.

“There’ll always be a place in her heart that belongs to Danny.
But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for you.  That girl loves you.  But she
doesn’t love you more than Danny, or less than Danny.  It’s not a contest.  Do
you think I love any one of your brothers or sisters more or less than I love
you?  Do you think the fact that there are nine of you dilutes my love for any
of you?  Love is a gift, Robbie.  Don’t question it.  Don’t spoil it by being
jealous of a dead man.”

“I can’t help it,” he said.  “I love her so damn much, it’s
killing me.”

“And you’re afraid of losing her.  But your jealousy is what’ll
drive her away. You don’t always have to be in control.  Let her love you in
her own way.  It’ll be well worth whatever you have to give up.  You’ve been a
long time looking for the right woman.  Don’t lose her on account of
stupidity.”

“What should I do?”  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked
his mother for advice.  Probably when he was ten or eleven.  By the time he was
twelve, he’d already been too much of a jackass to listen.

She glanced at the kitchen clock.  “Well, if I was you, I’d go
comb my hair, because she’ll probably be here any minute.”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.  “What?” he said. 
“She’s coming here?”

“For dinner.  And to talk to you.  Let me give you one more word
of advice, and then I’ll shut my mouth.  I suspect she’s coming here to tell
you what a blooming idiot you’ve been.  If you have half the brains God gave a
dandelion, you’ll just smile and agree with whatever she says, and be grateful
that while you were being such an ass, she didn’t go out and find someone a
little smarter.”

***

Red Sox fever had taken over the city, and traffic was backed up
from Fenway to East Boston.  After forty minutes of fighting traffic, she
parked her car in a garage near Quincy Market and ploughed her way through
wall-to-wall tourists, heading directly for the open air florist.  She had to
pay an exorbitant price for it, but she found exactly what she sought:  a
single, perfect, long-stemmed rose.  Red, the color of love.  As the florist
wrapped the stem in green tissue paper, she wondered once again if it was too
late.  But she refused to dwell on the possibility.  She was going into this
with her eyes wide open, and nothing would stop her.

Rob’s mother was a familiar, warm presence, ruddy-cheeked and
exuberant.  They embraced, then Mary held her at arm’s length while with shrewd
blue eyes she studied Casey’s pallid face.  “He’s around the back,” she said,
then added, “Don’t look so frightened, child.  It’ll all work out.”

Casey’s eyes widened in surprise, and Mary shook her head.  “I’m
not blind,” she said.  “It’s about time the two of you stopped being so
pigheaded and admitted you belong together.”

She found Rob on his knees in the garden, digging ferociously with
a spade, wearing a pair of worn gardening gloves and his leather bomber
jacket.  He looked up and saw her, and she watched the play of emotions across
his face:  pleasure, pain, uncertainty.  It was the uncertainty that
remained.   “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said, and stepped over a clump of moist soil.  “What
are you doing?”

“Planting tulip bulbs.”  He dropped the spade, rose and dusted his
knees, removed the gloves and stuffed them in his pocket.  For a long time,
they just looked at each other.  Then he reached out a tentative fingertip to
touch a scarlet rose petal.  “What’s with the flower, Fiore?  Somebody die or something?”

“It’s for you, MacKenzie.  It’s a peace offering.”

When he took it from her, his knuckles brushed hers, warm and
rough against her skin, and she felt his touch like a blow to her solar
plexus.  They lingered that way, barely touching, neither of them willing to
break the contact.  “I’m only going to say this once,” she said, “so please
hear me out.  You have to understand the powerful hold that Danny had over me. 
He’d walk into a room and I’d melt. It wasn’t something I could control, and no
matter how bad things got between us, we couldn’t seem to stay away from each
other.”

“I know,” he said.  “I was there.”

“So you were,” she said.  “But you don’t know all of it.  That
weekend you and I spent in Nassau, you unleashed something inside of me that I
hadn’t known was there.  And I was so confused.  I still loved Danny, but
suddenly I was having feelings for you that a married woman doesn’t have for a
man who’s not her husband.  I tried to believe it was like you said, some heady
combination of celibacy and proximity.  Maybe I could have handled it better,
but I did what I thought was best for everyone involved.  I took my husband
back.  Not because I didn’t care about you, but because I did.  Am I making any
sense at all?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.  “You are.”

“Danny was really trying to be a husband, putting everything he
had into it.  But I felt like I had this gaping hole inside me that was
clamoring to be filled, and I couldn’t figure out what was missing.  I tried to
fill up the emptiness with activity, but it didn’t help.  And then you walked
into my kitchen one hot August afternoon and you took me in your arms, and all
the voices inside me quieted.”

She took a deep breath.  “Part of me wanted you to stay away,” she
said, “and part of me just plain wanted you.  I told myself it was some kind of
thirty-something midlife crisis.  At one point, I just about had myself
convinced that if I went to bed with you, just once, I’d get it out of my
system.  Of course, it was out of the question, because I would never have
cheated on Danny.  Not in a million years.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely.

She took a deep breath.  “When he died, I would have lost myself
if it hadn’t been for you.  You brought me back.  And all those feelings I’d
tried so hard to deny came rushing back.  All that incredible heat, all that
passion.  I’d never had any idea it would be like that between us.”

He toyed with a strand of her hair.  “I could’ve told you.”

She traced the line of his jaw with her thumb.  “Of course,” she
said.  “I keep forgetting you’re a wizard.”

“I didn’t need any crystal ball,” he said, glancing down at his
dirt-encrusted Reeboks.  “Just my heart.”

“Oh, Rob, I’m so sorry.  The closer I got to you, the more I saw
Danny slipping away from me.  So I clung desperately to what I had left of him,
because I was afraid if I let go, I’d lose him completely.  Instead, I lost
you.”  She took his face between her hands, and his skin was smooth and warm.
“Will you forgive me?” she said.

“Ah, baby,” he said, “there’s nothing to forgive.  It took two of us
to screw things up this bad.”  He caught her hands in his, kissed the palms, then
threaded his fingers through hers.  “When Danny died,” he said, “it was the
worst thing that’d ever happened to me.  I didn’t handle it well.  In every way
that mattered, he was my brother.  Sometimes I hated him for the way he treated
you, but I loved him just the same.”

Softly, she said, “I know.”

“After Nassau,” he said, “I was so much in love with you that it
was eating me alive.  But you were Danny’s wife, and I had no right to feel
that way about you.  So I forced myself to keep my distance, for the sake of my
sanity.  Then he died, and the whole world came tumbling down on my head.  I
know there are people who’ll say that it was damn convenient for me, to finally
have him out of the picture.  But it wasn’t like that.  His dying didn’t make
things easier.  It made things so much worse.  Because as long as Danny was
upright and breathing, I could go on deluding myself into believing that sooner
or later, you’d wake up and realize it wasn’t worth all the pain he kept
putting you through.  And then, by some miracle, you’d turn around and see me
standing there, and realize—”  He broke off abruptly, then shrugged.  “Like I
said, I was delusional.  Then, suddenly, he was gone, and you were in so much
pain.  We both were.  That was when I realized it was hopeless.  He was the
love of your life, and there was no way I could ever compete with his ghost.  And
the bitter truth is, I was jealous of him.  I was more jealous of him as a dead
man than I ever was while he was alive.  The legend was dead, bigger than he’d
ever been in life, and I couldn’t imagine how you could love me after having
him.”

“Oh, Rob.  How could I possibly not love you?”

“Danny was a god,” he said.  “Don’t you see?  I’m just an ordinary
guy.”

“No,” she said.  “What you are is the air that I breathe.”

He let out a sharp explosion of breath.  “I’ve thought about
calling,” he said, “but my stubborn Irish blood wouldn’t let me.  I wanted you to
make the first move.  I’m too proud to beg.”

She brushed a single golden curl away from his face.  “I’m not.”

Hoarsely, he said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to.”

Solemn green eyes met equally solemn green eyes, and then, ever so
slightly, she saw the hint of a smile beginning.  “What in hell took you so
long?” he said.

“I had to work up my courage.”

“Courage?” he said.  “Courage for what?”

“To ask you to marry me.”

He examined her fingers, one by one, studying them in minute
detail, as though he’d never before seen a human hand.  “Marry?” he said.

“Yes, MacKenzie, marry.  As in two gold rings and people throwing
rice.”

“I’m familiar with the custom, Fiore.  Think you can live with my
bad habits?”

“You don’t have any bad habits.”

“Oh, yeah?  Tell that to my mother.  She’s about ready to throw me
out on my ass.”

“She doesn’t know you,” Casey said, “like I do.”

He stepped closer, so close she could feel his breath on her
face.  “That’s for sure,” he said.

She smoothed the collar of his shirt.  “Just to be safe,” she
said, her hand still lingering, “maybe you should outline those bad habits.  I
wouldn’t want to think I’d missed anything.”

“Number one,” he said, “I’m a slob.”

“We’ll hire a maid.”

“Shut up until I’m finished.  Number two, I snore—”

“We’ll sleep in separate bedrooms.”

“Like hell we will.  Didn’t I tell you to shut up?  Number three,
I always have to be right.”

“That one could pose a problem,” she said, “because I always have
to be right, too.”

Suddenly serious, he placed a hand on the nape of her neck and
drew her to him, burying his face in her hair.  “Maybe we could learn to
compromise,” he said.