Stay With Me (10 page)

“So, what did you tell your sister about me?”

“Enough.” There was the saucy grin again.

 
She’s killing me.

A squeal emanated from behind the door followed by
an infant’s cry, and then a young woman answered the door, bouncing Emma on her
hip.

Chris remembered the little girl from when he’d
first met Rebecca at Rieser’s Market.

“Hi, sweetie,” he said as Abby motioned them in.

“I love terms of endearment, but you should
probably call me by my given name when my sister’s in the room.”

Chris jerked his head back. Did she really think he
was talking to her and not the little girl in her arms?

“Abby, this is Chris. Chris, my sister, Abby. She’s
truly one of a kind.”

Okay. Rebecca did say Abby was offbeat. “Nice to
finally meet you, Abby.”

She looked him up and down in a way that made him
feel uncomfortable. Or undressed. “Likewise.”

Abby couldn’t be more different than Rebecca.
Short, blond, spiky hair topped a narrow face and long features. The
combination was different, but not unattractive. The contrast with Rebecca
wasn’t limited to appearance either. Her no-nonsense manner differed drastically
from her younger sister’s almost genteel propriety.

As he stepped further into a foyer cluttered with
children’s shoes, stuffed animals, and Nerf darts, the smell of pizza wafted
from somewhere in the back of the house.

Abby had gone ahead with Emma, leaving him and
Rebecca to follow. “Is your brother-in-law here?”

“Joel? I would think so. He’s probably out back
with Ricky.”

They made their way to a dining room festooned with
crepe paper streamers, Hello Kitty balloons and a Hello Kitty piñata.

“What happened to Dora?” Rebecca asked as she set
her present on the buffet alongside a half dozen presents wrapped in Hello
Kitty paper.

“She hates Dora,” Abby answered as she set Emma
down and tucked a blanket around Ian in his bouncy seat.

If the baby picture Rebecca had shown him was a
good representation, Ian had morphed from ugly, wrinkly newborn to adorable,
pudgy infant.

“Since when?”

“Last week. A good auntie would keep up with these
things.”

Rebecca glared at her sister. The irritation didn’t
last though. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope. Got it all under control.”

And she did. Joel and Ricky only emerged for the
cake and presents. The rest of the time, Abby handled the baby, the food, and
Emma and her little friends. She rolled with the state of near-constant chaos.

The party wound down and Joel and Ricky retreated
to the basement for a movie.

Emma hugged Chris’s leg. “Thank you,” she said. The
poor little girl looked so sleepy he doubted she knew whom she thanked or why.

“You’re welcome, Emma,” he said, careful not to
toss around any terms of endearment.

Emma released him and leaned against Rebecca. “I
sleepy, Aunt Becca.”

Rebecca ran her hands over the little girl’s silky
hair. “Aw, Emmy. Can I put you to bed?” Emma nodded her head, and Rebecca lifted
her over her shoulder.

“Abby, I’ll take her up if that’s okay.”

“Okay? I think it earns you the ‘Aunt of the Year’
award.”

Rebecca turned back to Chris. “I’ll get her to
sleep and then we can go, okay?”

“Sure.” Chris sat at the dining room table while
Abby took a few remaining paper plates to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to
help?” he called after her.

Her reply came back through the archway that
separated the rooms. “No, this is the last of it.”

Chris glanced around the room. Other than a couple of
sconces, only two decorations hung on the walls. An orange and yellow abstract
print on a large canvas square hung on one wall, and a Star of David on the
opposite wall.

Abby returned from the kitchen and sat across from
him. She let out a deep sigh. “Children are exhausting. Would you like a beer?”

“No, thanks.”

“I’m going to get one for myself then.” She went
back into the kitchen. Bottles clanged and a lid snapped before she emerged.
Just as she sat and tilted the bottle to her lips, the baby cried out.

“Figures,” Abby said. She set down her beer and
gathered Ian out of his bouncy seat.

“I noticed the Star of David on the wall. . . Is
Joel Jewish?”

Abby looked at the baby and made silly noises in an
attempt to settle him down. “Yes, he is. He’s not what you’d call observant
though.”

“And your dad was okay with the marriage?”

“My dad?” She laughed. “He wasn’t okay with it, but
what could he do?  We eloped.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but, does your
dad get along with Joel?”

She looked away from the baby and toward him. “My
dad doesn’t like you, does he?”

Chris gave her a grim smile. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think he only
tolerates Joel.”

The baby fussed again, and Abby laid him on her
lap, snapped something under her shirt, and then lifted the hem for the baby to
nurse.

Chris didn’t know which way to look. He didn’t want
to stare at Abby’s exposed breast, but she was hardly discreet.

“You don’t have a problem with me feeding my baby
in my own home, do you?”

Geez, she came on strong. “Of course not.
Breastfeeding is great. Best for the baby and all that. I guess I’ve just never
been around a woman while she’s nursing.”

“Well, you might as well take a good look. This is
the closest you’re going to get to a woman’s breasts while you’re dating my
sister.”

Her blunt manner stunned Chris into silence. “I,
uh, I wasn’t trying to see….” His cheeks burned. How was he supposed to respond
to that? Good grief, how long did it take to put a little girl to bed? Emma was
half asleep when Rebecca left the room with her.

The baby continued to suckle, making the occasional
gulping sound.

“Abby, there’s something I’ve wondered about
Rebecca.”

At the sound of his voice, Ian popped off of his
mother’s nipple and turned to look at him. He smiled at the baby, and when Ian
turned his attention back to his meal, Chris continued. “Why doesn’t Rebecca
sing?”

“What makes you think she doesn’t sing?”

“Well, every time it comes up she changes the
subject. Or she gets this look, like she closes up and shuts down. When she
came to church with me, she opened the hymnal but not her mouth. She didn’t
even sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Emma tonight.”

Abby fidgeted with Ian’s toes. “She does sing. When
she’s alone.” She glanced up the stairs.  “Rebecca’s singing voice is amazing.
It’s a gift. When our Sunday school teachers heard her they encouraged her to
sing. So, she’d sing for the little services our class had. Then, when she was
thirteen, they asked her to sing a solo for Christmas Eve.

 “I can still picture her in my hand-me-down,
red-velvet gown with the fur trim and the silver sparkles. She was going to
sing ‘O Holy Night,’ and she was so nervous. She practiced and practiced.
Couldn’t have been more prepared. And then she got the words all balled up.

“It started beautifully. Her voice moved people to
tears. Then somewhere around that really high note, she looked at us. Our
Sunday school teachers smiled; I beamed. And then, she looked at Dad. I
couldn’t see his face, but that’s when she tripped on the words. She didn’t
even finish it. She ran to the back of the church.”

Ian had dozed off in her arms, and after she pulled
down her shirt, she shifted him over her shoulder and patted his back.

“Everyone was so kind and understanding and told
her how beautifully she’d sung. Dad didn’t speak the whole way home. When we
got inside, he blew up. He called her a disgrace and said she’d embarrassed us
all. That she shamed him.”

Abby’s eyes glistened and her features softened.
“I’m not sentimental, but my heart broke for her. The life leached out of her.
He crushed her spirit so thoroughly that night. She hasn’t been the same
since.”

Chris imagined the hurt Rebecca felt, and his chest
ached.

 “We never spoke about it. And she stopped singing.
She took D’s in music class because she wouldn’t sing. Cost her being
valedictorian. The director of our high school musicals begged her to be in the
plays, and she wouldn’t.”

“And she hasn’t sung since?”

Abby rubbed circles on Ian’s tiny back as he
emitted a soft snore.

“I heard her sing once since then. When Ricky was a
few months old I got the flu, and Rebecca, God bless her, stayed with me while
Joel worked. She took care of Ricky, and she’d bring him to me to feed him. One
afternoon, he fussed and cried nonstop, and I heard her comforting him. She
probably thought I couldn’t hear, but she sang a lullaby. ‘Down In the
Valley.’”

She closed her eyes as if she were transported back
to the memory. “Sweet, soft, and almost haunting. He quieted right down.”

Chris seethed. How could a man treat his daughter
like that? Especially a sweet, obedient girl like Rebecca must have been.

“Abby, I’ve never hated another person. But your
dad…I am so…so close.” He shook his head and then rested his forehead against
his palms.

“Yeah. He really has a way of bringing out the best
in people, doesn’t he?”

He raised his head and rested his chin in his hand.
“How do we get her to sing again?”

“We don’t. She doesn’t want to.”

How could Abby just accept that? He wanted Rebecca
to sing, and not only for the selfish interest he had in hearing her voice, but
also for her own sake. She had a God-given talent hidden under a mountain of
fear and shame.

Abby cradled Ian again and stroked his fuzzy head.
“I swear they get high off breast milk. Doesn’t he look high?”

Chuckling, he leaned back in his seat.  “Yeah, he
does look sort of mellowed out.”

Finally, he heard Rebecca descending the steps.
Thank God.

“She’s out like a light,” Rebecca said to Abby. She
rubbed her hand on Chris’s shoulder and bent to his ear, the sensation of her
lips sending a shiver down his spine. “Are you ready, handsome?”

Handsome? That was a first. “I sure am.”

They rode back to Rebecca’s apartment, where Chris
had left his motorcycle. He didn’t want the night to end, but it was late, so
he walked her to her door.

Taking both of her hands in his, he lifted her
right hand to his lips. “How is it that time goes so fast when we’re together
and so slow when we’re apart?”

“You’ve noticed that, too, huh?”

Not ready to let go yet, he swung their hands back
and forth between them.

“So, Monday’s the big day, huh?” she said.

Their arms slowed, and he inched closer to her.
“Yeah. First day on the job. I’m a little nervous.”

“I’ll pray for you.”

“Thanks. If after a few weeks things seem like
they’re going to work out, I’m going to buy a car. Or maybe a truck. I haven’t
decided yet. Something I can use to take you out on dates.”

“You don’t have to buy a vehicle on my account.”
She slipped her hands out of his and slid her arms up around his neck. She
flattened the collar of his wrinkled, cotton shirt.

“It’s time. I love the Harley, and I’m going to
keep it, but I need something more practical, too.” The thread of conversation
slowly unraveled as he stepped closer and looked deeper into her eyes.

“I suppose something with doors and a roof would be
better in inclement weather.” Her hands left his collar and clasped behind his
neck.

“Uh-huh.” He couldn’t manage anything more coherent
before he bent his head towards her and kissed her. She unclasped her hands and
played with his hair. She pressed her body closer to him and when she parted
her lips, he took it as an invitation. The instant he tilted his head and tried
to deepen the kiss, she jerked back like she’d been slapped.

Chris’ gaze dropped to his hands, which still held
tight to her waist despite the fact she had wrenched her whole upper body away
from him. “I’m sorry. I’m so attracted to you, and I thought you wanted me to—”

He looked up and into her eyes—wide and frightened,
and she shook her head furiously.

“No. I didn’t.”

She was like a rabbit. Contented until you got too
close, then wary and skittish. He half-feared she’d bolt every time he kissed
her.

“Again, I’m sorry. I’m good with taking things
slow, but…” What could he say? Any slower and they’d be going backwards. By
next month he’d be blowing her kisses from across the room. They had been
having a good evening, and she hadn’t hesitated to kiss him. Not at first. He
tried to make sense of it.

“Rebecca, has someone hurt you or taken advantage
of you in the past?”