Today & Tomorrow (9 page)

Riley gave Bart a playfully irritated look and then turned back to Analisa. “Sorry if I’m being OCD about this.”

Analisa shifted Declan onto her shoulder, and he grabbed a hank of her hair and stuck it in his mouth. “You’re not. I understand. Thanks for this.”

“We should be thanking you,” Bart said and stepped into the room. “You’ve got our numbers, and Bibi is close if you need help. C’mon, babe. Vegas is waiting. Let’s kiss the crunchers and get on the road.”

Lexi took her mother’s hand. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll help Analisa and Nolan. I’ll make sure they take care of us.”

Riley squatted down and hugged her six-year-old. “Thank you, princess. I know you will.”

~oOo~

Nolan ran into the living room with Ian on his shoulders. He put him down, flipping him over on the way, and making him giggle crazily.

“How do you guys feel about pizza?”

“YEAH!” Ian jumped up and down. Odin watched him, lying on the floor near the fireplace, his tail thumping. “PEE-ZAA!” Ian dropped to the floor in front of the dog and gave him a gargantuan hug, for which he was rewarded with a gargantuan tongue bath.

Analisa was sitting in an upholstered rocker, giving Declan a bottle. He’d been dozing off, but he startled and his eyes went wide when Ian yelled. She was glad—it was almost seven o’clock, and she knew she wasn’t supposed to let him sleep, but he was so bloody cute, his sweet grey eyes rolling up in his head as sleep crept on him, that she felt too guilty to wake him.

Lexi was playing dolls in an elaborate dollhouse. Analisa had had a big Victorian dollhouse when she was a little girl, but she’d never been into dolls. She’d preferred being outside, and her fantasies had been more adventuresome. But Lexi had been contentedly playing alone with this English stone cottage for a couple of hours, moving her little family through their days. She gave them all something like a British accent, each doll with a different voice. Analisa had sat and watched, mesmerized.

She had taken probably fifty stills and thirty minutes of video just on this day.

When Nolan mentioned pizza, though, Lexi left behind Jolly Old England and gave him a somber look. “Marta made dinners in the freezer. We’re supposed to have those.”

The Elstads’ housekeeper didn’t work on the weekends, so Analisa and Nolan were on their own. But she had left a freezer full of prepared meals for them.

Nolan knelt at Lexi’s side. “I know. But pizza sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? What’s your favorite topping?”

The girl looked at him, then at Analisa, in clear conflict. “Um…ham and pineapple.”

He grinned. “Yeah? I like that, too. I’d split one with you.”

“Well…I only like whole wheat crust.”

“I could do that. Ian, what kind do you like?”

“SAUSAGE I LIKE SAUSAGE!” He jumped around the room as if he were on a pogo stick. “SAUSAGE SAUSAGE SAUSAGE!”

Nolan laughed and looked up at Analisa. “I think Lexi was right about giving him that soda.”

“I told you, Nolan,” Lexi lectured. “You should listen.”

“You’re right. I should. Are we okay for pizza, though?”

Lexi crossed her arms and thought. “Okay. But no more soda.”

“Yes, ma’am. Milk and juice only. Agreed.”

Lexi nodded and went back to her dolls. Nolan stood, came over to the rocker, and sat on the upholstered arm. “How you doin’, little mama?”

Declan had finished his bottle, so she set him on her shoulder. He wasn’t interested in being burped, though, so she turned the protesting eight-month-old around and sat him on her lap so he could watch his siblings play. “You and Lexi make a great team.”

“I think she could run the show on her own.” He brushed his hand over Declan’s soft hair. Based on the baby pictures everywhere, it looked like he’d been born totally bald, but now he had wispy, white-blond hair. The Elstad kids were all gorgeous.

Declan began to wiggle and fuss. “I should change him and put him down so he can play.”

“Okay. You do that and I’ll call in a delivery order for Lexi-approved pizza.” He picked up her hand and kissed it.

“PEE-ZAA!” Ian shouted and barreled into Nolan, who laughed and caught him up.

“Let’s find the number, spaz.”

Analisa watched them go, feeling a melancholic happiness. This weekend was an remarkable gift. She’d gotten more than she’d ever hoped—a chance to see what it would be like to have a family, to be a mom, in love with a dad, to sit quietly while their children played, to order pizza and watch animated movies and have children fall asleep in their arms.

This weekend, Nolan had given her a piece of the life she’d never have.

Declan ramped up his struggles, and she stood up with him. “Come on, kiddo. Jammie time.”

~oOo~

Analisa laid a sleeping Declan in his crib and pulled the little comforter to his chin. Then she went and checked on Lexi and Ian, both sleeping quietly. Lexi slept on her side, her hands pressed together under her cheek, pretty as a picture. Ian was curled up with a LEGO plane that he and Nolan had made. Odin slept on the floor at the side of his bed.

Satisfied that all the kids were sleeping, she went downstairs and found Nolan in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes.

The moment was so perfectly domestic, so exactly what she wanted, that she had to stop and close her eyes, letting it all roll through her.

Overall, she was still feeling okay. After that first quick burst of more sickness, It had leveled off again, and she was dealing with what had become a constant drone of discomfort. She was pretty sure that no one knew yet that she was feeling bad at all. This weekend would be the real test, because she would never be alone for any length of time.

She was worried about the morning, when she was at her worst. With the kids around, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do what she needed to do to get on an even keel for the day. This might be the weekend where Nolan fully understood that she really was sick.

He saw her and turned off the faucet. “Hey. Everybody in sleepyland?”

She walked over and let him pull her into a hug. “Yep. We wore them out. You’re so good with them, Nolan. It’s amazing.”

He shrugged. “I love kids. My dad died when I was sixteen. Right after my baby brother was born. My mom had some trouble after that. I guess I helped raise him a little.”

She knew he meant ‘stepfather’ when he said ‘dad.’ Or, actually, no. He meant ‘dad.’ But he wasn’t talking about the man who was genetically related to him. He’d told her that the man he considered his real father had been murdered. “How old is your brother now?”

“About Lexi’s age. Turned six this summer.”

“I bet he misses you.”

He kissed her head. “Yeah. He’s okay, though. I call home pretty often. I’ll go home…when it’s time.”

After she was gone, she knew he meant. She got closer and leaned her forehead on his chest. “Thank you for this weekend.”

“I know it’s not exactly what you wanted on your list.”

“No, it’s better. I would have liked to have a life just like this. I’m glad I get to have a little taste.”

He rubbed his hands over her arms. “You know what parents do after they get the kids to bed?”

“Drop in a heap on the sofa and stare at the television?”

“Yeah,” he laughed and bent down to put his mouth on her ear. “That too. But I was thinking more along the lines of getting naked.”

His voice made her quiver, deep inside. “Will you do that thing with your fingers?”

“You know it. I love that you love that thing.” His mouth moved down her neck, and he latched on, sucking lightly in the crook of her shoulder. “C’mon, little mama.”

She loved to hear him call her that. This weekend was as close as she’d ever get.

The agent walked into the middle of the empty living room and turn around. “This property has four bedrooms and two baths. Hardwood floors throughout, except in the baths and kitchen—that’s ceramic tile.” She gestured toward the fireplace like a game show hostess. “Wood-burning fireplace, double-paned windows throughout. I know the vertical blinds are outdated, but they stay, so at least the neighbors won’t see in until you can upgrade.”

Analisa nodded vaguely and walked toward a smaller space that fed off from the living room. She turned and looked into the next room, then turned back to the agent. “There’s no dining room?”

“You’re standing in it,” the agent, Joanne, replied. “Dining area conveniently off the kitchen.”

“But it’s part of the living room. And it’s so small.”

“Well, it’ll comfortably hold any normal table. And if you need to extend, you can pull it out into the living room a little.”

Instead of commenting further, Analisa stepped into the kitchen and looked around. Following behind both women, Nolan watched her expression and knew what she was thinking.

His girl was caught in a dilemma. She had a clear picture of what she wanted the house she bought to look like. She had a clear determination to buy this house without her father’s help, for it to be truly hers. But she was a girl who had been born to every privilege. Her perceptions were skewed by that privilege. What she thought of as an acceptable dining room, or a usable kitchen, would take up most of the square footage of normal people’s houses.

But the money she was willing to use, the money that was hers, would only buy her a normal person’s house.

Nolan, who’d spent most of his childhood moving from one terrible apartment to the next, more terrible apartment, until he and his mom had ended up living in a borrowed, broken-down Winnebago in a friend’s back yard, thought the houses they’d been looking at for two days were all terrific. But Analisa wasn’t satisfied yet.

She’d been completely uninterested in any of the rooms in any house except the kitchen and dining room. At this point, she wanted the house only so that she could cross it off her list, and so that she could invite everyone over for Thanksgiving dinner and cross that off her list.

The past couple of weeks, she’d become increasingly obsessed with that list. Since the weekend at the Elstads’, she hadn’t crossed anything else off. Buying a house, though, could take care of everything left. She could make her dinner here. And when she’d panicked about not having an idea about what to invent, he’d suggested she could invent a recipe for Thanksgiving.

One house, three wishes. If she’d pick one.

She was looking in Madrone because houses were cheaper. Her father was completely freaked out at the thought that she might actually move into the house she bought seventy miles away from him. He wanted her at home. But he was staying out of her way. Nolan figured the two of them must have had some kind of very uncomfortable come-to-Jesus talk, because Donovan Winter obviously wanted to say and do more than he was.

Nolan knew why her father was so worried. He was worried himself. Analisa was getting sicker. She kept saying she wasn’t, and maybe she thought everybody believed her. He, for one, let her think that. But she barely ate, and when she did, she spent a long time in the bathroom afterward. She was thin and getting ever thinner. Her hair was losing its luster, her skin was dulling, too. She was slow and shaky in the mornings, and she disappeared for about half an hour every morning, usually into the bathroom, where she turned on the fan and all the faucets, coming out sweaty and wiped out.

When he’d met her in August, he couldn’t believe that she was terminally ill. Now, a few days after Halloween, it was obvious that she was. Since that first night he’d spent with her, he stayed with her as much as he could. Hoosier had brokered a truce with the Dirty Rats, and La Zorra and her allies south of the border had finally crushed the Castillos. Things around the club were quiet now. They weren’t beefing with anyone, and their cartel work was moving smoothly.

Nolan, knowing that whatever happened with Analisa, his time at the SoCal table was up at the end of the year, had stepped out of his place on the border runs, which folded his cut into the kitty, giving the SoCal patches a bigger share. It was only right. He was still nominally living in the clubhouse, and he still had a seat at their table, but for all intents and purposes, he had already left the SoCal charter. Most of his time was spent with Analisa, and everyone in the clubhouse understood.

He hadn’t told his mother about her, though. She wouldn’t understand why he’d let himself fall in love with a girl he’d known for sure he couldn’t keep. She still mourned Havoc, even more than Nolan did, and she wouldn’t understand taking on that pain intentionally.

He didn’t understand it, either. He hadn’t done it intentionally. He had tried not to let it happen, but it had happened anyway, almost while he wasn’t looking.

He would tell his mother everything when he got home. When his time with Analisa was over. When she couldn’t try to reason him out of the love he felt. When all she would do would be to offer him the comfort he knew he would need.

As long as Analisa lived, however long that might be, Nolan would stay with her. He’d promised his mother he’d be home for Christmas. Now, what he wanted more than anything else in the world was to break that promise.

“I tell you what. Why don’t I go outside and check my email, and you can take your time.” Joanne turned and walked through the house to the front door. Nolan had been lost in thought and had missed the exchange that had prompted her exit, but he knew from her tone, and the strident way the heels of her pumps landed on the hardwood, that Analisa had gotten impatient and said something snappish.

He walked into the kitchen, where she was standing at the sink, looking out the little window to the grassy swath that was the back yard. He stood behind her and put his hands on her hips, feeling her hipbones like blades in her jeans.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“This kitchen! That so-called ‘dining room’! How can I cook anything? Or have anybody over? This isn’t what I want at all!” She ended her little complaint with a sound like a sob, and he circled her waist and pulled her close.

It was time to help her think about her list more broadly. “Tell me what you want—why you want to buy a house, and why you want to have Thanksgiving in it.”

“Because it’s what people do when they grow up. They buy a house, and they invite family for dinner. They barbecue and get the paper and mow the lawn.”

He highly doubted that her father had mown a lawn since he’d left the Illinois farm he’d grown up on. But he understood her point.

“People also make do, Ani. For most people, things aren’t ever perfect. So they get the best house they can afford, and they figure out how to make the things they want to happen in it happen. Every house we’ve looked at is nicer than anything I lived in as a kid. Most of them are nicer than my mom’s house now, and she has family over for dinner all the time. The whole house gets full. It’s a great house.”

Havoc had bought it for his mom as a wedding gift. He’d let Nolan in on it, asking him to help him pick the right one. That had been cool.

Analisa leaned her head back on his chest and crossed her arms over his. “So I’m being a selfish asshole again?”

He kissed her cheek, lingering there to savor the taste and smell and feel of her. “No, babe. You’re not selfish. But you are privileged. Sometimes you have trouble seeing past that.”

“What house did you like?”

“I like this one. The floors are nice, and Joanne’s right. If you wanted, you could extend a big table into the living room. Plus, this one’s empty. Probably close on it quick.”

“There’s only one oven. How can I cook a turkey and a pie in one oven?”

“My mom bakes the pie the day before and then warms it the next day, during dinner.” His mom usually did frozen pie or the kind with canned filling, but he thought the principle was the same.

“Oh.”

“See? Making do. Normal life.”

She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “This one?”

“This one.”

“Will you stay with me here?”

“I’ll stay with you anywhere, Ani.”

~oOo~

They were able to close on the house in a week. Analisa put twenty-percent down, and he’d sat with her at the mortgage company as she signed a stack of papers. He knew she wasn’t paying attention to any of the explanations about what she was signing. She didn’t care. If she had the chance to make two mortgage payments, she’d be lucky.

She let her father buy her some furniture, and he and Tristan came over the day it was all delivered, and they and Nolan set up the rooms while Analisa ‘supervised.’ She’d only gotten enough furniture for one bedroom, the living room, and, of course, the dining room, so it took the three of them only a couple of hours to get everything set up.

Then they ordered Chinese takeout and sat in the living room with food, wine, and beer and watched one of her father’s first movies, a terrible action-fantasy thing in which he ran around in a loincloth. Analisa and Tristan had a commentary they’d obviously had memorized for years, and they laughed hard the whole way through.

Nolan looked over at her father again and again, and he always found him watching his daughter. Once, when Analisa and Tristan were doubled over at some sibling hilarity, Donovan made eye contact with Nolan. They held that look, both of them knowing exactly why they weren’t laughing along.

After her family left, Nolan locked the front door and pulled her into a tight embrace. “What do you think? You like having a home of your own?”

“I do. I feel like a grownup. That’s what I wanted.”

“Good. You know…there’s a brand-new bed back there.”

She smiled and hooked a finger through his belt loop. “You know, there’s a brand-new faux sheepskin rug right here.”

“You want to fuck on the rug?”

“That’s the beauty of having a place of our own, right? We can do it wherever we want?”

Airtight logic, as far as Nolan was concerned. He took her hand and led her to the rug. Then he kissed her, pulling her as close to him as he could get her, using this chance, as he used every chance, to etch all of her into his memory. With his hands cradling her head and his fingers laced in her hair, he lowered them both to their knees.

~oOo~

“Analisa?”

The receptionist hit the ‘A’ in her name hard, making the sound of the letter in ‘apple,’ rather than the correct ‘ah’ sound, and Analisa rolled her eyes and sighed. “It would be totally great if they could pronounce my name right after all this time,” she muttered. “Okay. I’ll be back in a few.”

She stood and walked toward the receptionist. Then she stopped and turned back to Nolan. “Would you come in with me?”

He was surprised—stunned, even. She was generally private about her medical stuff. He’d barely gotten her to admit that she wasn’t feeling as well as she had been. It had taken him barging into the bathroom in a panic, hearing her coughing and gasping for breath, and finding her on the floor by the toilet, with a bowl full of red water, to get her to admit that she had bad days.

He’d known, but she hadn’t admitted it until she could no longer hide it. And she still hadn’t told her father. Which was why Nolan was here today and not Donovan.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling it’s time for you to know it all.”

She’d said those words without any affect at all, as if she were asking him to put toilet paper on the grocery list, but they made his heart sink into his stomach. She thought the end was near.