Coming Home to Love (Lakeside Porch Series Book 2) (9 page)

“I’m happy, Justin.”

“It’s as it should be.”

“I expect the same from you. If not with this cook then with another lovely woman. Tell me”—she fixed him with a look— “where did you find your women in London? You don’t drink, and I can’t imagine you pub crawling now that you don’t drink.”

“At the university, of course. We had a smashing faculty club and soirees and dinners and holiday bashes. And there were coffee houses around the area. A very lively social scene.”

“And you had your pick of women.”

“Smart, attractive, unattached women. Every one of whom reached the conclusion that I am a workaholic with a heart of stone.” Justin put his hand on his heart and let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, the nerve.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t suppose they were right?”

Justin laughed at himself. “Perhaps they were. About the workaholism anyway.”

Sydney appraised her friend and said gently, “You protect your heart fiercely, don’t you, Justin? Is it all about that Alexis person you knew in Switzerland?”

“Alexa.” Justin was surprised to hear his voice catch. He coughed and took a swallow of Perrier.

“She hurt you deeply, my sweet.” Sydney patted his hand. “Don’t let it make you paranoid with this fair maiden of yours. If there’s love between you, she’ll be true to you, but she won’t stick with you if you’re suspicious or jealous without cause.”

“Why do you say suspicious and jealous? Do you think that’s the case with me?” The pucker of his forehead betrayed his hurt.

Sydney nodded sagely. “I have heard it in your voice over the years. I heard it long before things blew up with Alexa. Perhaps it’s the nature of your work not to trust your partners any more than your enemies. But after Alexa betrayed you, you carried that suspicion into your love life, too. No wonder your London ladies said you had a heart of stone.” She raised her eyebrows. “Suspicion is a huge turnoff, you know.”

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Mark my words, Justin. I’m not being mean. You know I want your happiness.”

Before Justin could reply, their dinners arrived.

The waiter set heavy plates in front of them. “Can I get you folks anything more just now?”

“Two coffees,” Justin growled.

Sydney smiled, and the waiter left the table. The aroma of sizzling steak enveloped them. “Mm.” She patted Justin’s hand. “Eat, growly bear. You know I’m right.”

Gianessa talked with her hands and with anything her hands happened to be holding. At the moment, she was holding a half-full mug of coffee, and Carol watched its movement carefully, prepared to move out of the way as needed.

“Joel is coming home to the new suite at the Manse very soon, and we’ll be ready for his treatment.” She set down her coffee mug, brushed a splash of coffee off her hand with a napkin, and continued. “You should see the treatment pool and the equipment room. It’s a first-rate setup, and I know Joel will make progress quickly.”

Carol warmed to the happy tone in Gianessa’s voice, the lightness of her smile. When she asked for details of the setup, she heard more than she could ever understand. Gianessa wound down after a few minutes, and Carol told her, “As your AA sponsor, I am so glad to see you embrace this exciting change. You’ve worked long and hard for this opportunity. I see one of the AA promises coming true for you. Would you agree that you have a new freedom and a new happiness? I think you’re breaking free of the past, Gianessa.”

To Carol’s surprise, Gianessa’s face lost its sparkle.
What’s that about?
She waited a few beats for Gianessa to take the lead, but Gianessa seemed lost in thought.

“Gianessa, when you told me about your new opportunities, you seemed so happy and excited about your work. And now you’re not. What did I miss?”

Gianessa came back with a false smile. “Maybe I’m just realizing all the work ahead of me.”

“Want to know what I think?”

Gianessa picked up the empty wrapper from Carol’s sugar packet and ripped it in half. “Of course. That’s why I have a sponsor.”

Carol ignored the tone of dismissal and told her, “I think you were hoping the fulfillment of work would blot out the sadness from the past, and maybe it hasn’t.”

Gianessa’s face darkened, and her jaw hardened. Carol wasn’t sure what was coming next. Tears or an angry outburst.

Neither. Gianessa calmly shredded the sugar packet. When she had reduced it to eight thin strips, she picked up each strip in turn and tore it into four tiny squares.

Carol marveled at her concentration and dexterity.

Gianessa nudged the thirty-two tiny squares into a neat pile, sat back and sighed. “I totally failed my daughter and my husband, when what I really wanted—more than anything—was to be a mother and a wife.”

“Yes, we’ve talked about that, and it’s very sad. Do you still want to be a mother and a wife?”

“It’s not possible.” Gianessa’s voice was hard.

Carol lightened her tone. “What are you planning to do with that pretty pink pile of torn paper?”

Gianessa huffed and squirmed in her chair, pursed her mouth, and finally met Carol’s gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want to have a career. I do. I’m a healer, and I want to share that gift. I’m a talented physical therapist, and I want to use that skill. I’m happy Joel will be home and in therapy very soon.”

“But?”

Gianessa looked around the coffee shop, swallowed hard, and brought her gaze to rest on the tiny squares that used to be a sugar packet. “I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

“You mean the drunk driving accident?”

Gianessa nodded, and her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m pretty sure you know how to forgive yourself,” Carol corrected. “I think you just can’t let go of what you’ve lost.”

The tears spilled over.

“How can I possibly let go of my little girl?” she whispered. When her teardrops hit the tabletop, Gianessa reached into her tote bag for a pack of tissues.

To Carol’s surprise, Gianessa made no effort to dry her eyes or take care of her runny nose. Instead, she wiped the teardrops from the table and methodically put the thirty-two tiny squares of paper into the tissue and folded it neatly.

If she puts that into her tote I’m going to make her see a psychiatrist
. At times like this Carol wished she still smoked.

“I am so torn,” Gianessa said in a whisper.

Carol eyed the tissue with the torn paper.
No kidding
.

“If I let them go, Les and Isabella, what do I have left?”

Carol said gently and with conviction, “Yourself. Your gifts, your skills, and all the warmth and love that made you want to be a wife and mother in the first place.”

Gianessa shook her head. “I’ve destroyed that part of me.”

“No, Gianessa. Your addiction destroyed your life with Les and Isabella. But I believe, deep inside, you still have the love, the instincts, the desire to be a wife and mother. The question is, do you have the courage to let go of what’s gone and open yourself to love and commitment in the present and the future?”

Gianessa squinted at her as if she were speaking another language. Slowly, comprehension dawned. “Is that why I’m fighting so hard to hang on to them, even when I know they’re lost forever? Because I still want a loving relationship and children?”

“I think so.” Carol waited a beat. “Of course I’m not a therapist, and I’m not you.”

“I am so afraid of failing again. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed another marriage or lost another child due to my addiction.”

“That’s honesty. Good for you.”

“I have so much fear and anger toward myself.”

“And you will work through that one day at a time, as you explore new relationships and take on new challenges.”

Gianessa’s eyes were dark with doubt. “That is scary. It’s easier to beat myself up about my failure than to . . .”

“Than to what?”

With a secretive smile, Gianessa picked up the neatly folded tissue with the neatly torn sugar packet, and made her way to the trash.

When she came back to the table, the soft smile was gone. Back in place was the apprehension.

What the hell?
“How did it feel to let go of that?”

“Scary.”

“You know, you had a sexy little smile going before you left the table.”

Gianessa gaze met hers and then darted off, seeking but not finding a safe place to focus.

“Fess up, kiddo. Is there a nice man in your life? Is that where all this is coming from?”

Gianessa’s laugh was tentative. “I’d say ‘interesting.’ There’s an interesting man in my life, and he’s interested in more than cooking together.”

Carol shifted in her chair. “And that scares you. Tell me about this man. What are you cooking up together?”

“Gluten-free meals. He’s made a commitment to gluten free, and he’s learning strategies for eating out and meal planning. We’ve seen each other a few times. He’s slowly getting well and strong again.”

“So this is a professional relationship that he wants to become personal?”

Gianessa’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Or it’s already personal, and he wants it to be sexual?”

Gianessa’s face flamed. “You know, you’re very good.” She laughed.

Carol probed, “Is this someone you might want to get serious about?”

“Heavens no. He’s . . .” She sighed and her brow knit with bafflement.

“Tell me about him. Is he cute?”

“Handsome. He’s too old for me, and anyway he’s just a temporary thing. I think.”

“That’s an odd way to describe someone.”

“He’s had a whole life away from here, and he came back for a specific purpose, and I don’t trust that he’s going to stay.”

Carol cocked her head. “That’s different from what I was envisioning for you. I’m not suggesting you have a meaningless fling.”

“It wouldn’t be meaningless.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Sounds like we’re in unexplored territory here.” Carol glanced at the clock. “How about ‘Easy Does It’ as your guideline for now. We’ll talk again as things unfold. Meanwhile, can I trust you not to do something foolish?”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Get your heart broken. Get pregnant. Run off to Morocco with Mr. Wrong.”

“I’d rather be here, see where this new work leads, and keep making friends. Besides, I’ve got the ultimate winter coat, good to forty below.”

Carol laughed. “So I see. It takes up a whole chair by itself.”

“It’s light as a feather and toasty warm. I love my coat. Don’t disparage my coat.”

Her voice was teasing, and Carol was glad to hear Gianessa’s enthusiasm for life in wintry Tompkins Falls. As they bundled up in coats and mittens, she wondered what the next meeting with Gianessa would bring.

“I need an answer here,” Justin said in a tone she’d never heard.

Gianessa wouldn’t call it bullying or badgering or bossing, but it left no room for evasion. She raised her eyes from the sheet of phyllo dough.

Justin’s smile was disarming. “You’re prickly around me. What’s that about?”

“Prickly?”

“I walk behind you, you press against the counter to avoid contact.”

“No way. I’m being polite and moving out of your way.”

He nodded as if he’d expected that. “I brush against your arm, you jump a mile.”

“I don’t jump a mile.”

“A foot,” he amended with a practiced smile.

She could see he’d played this game before and, of course, won. She gave him a dimpled smile of surrender.

“And now you’re distracting me with that dimple. Where does that come from? What does that mean?”

Gianessa averted her gaze, gave one last roll to the sheet of gluten-free phyllo, and began cutting strips to make the mushroom roll-ups. “It means you’ve
got
me.”

“
Got
you?”

She peered at him from under her eyelashes. “Figured me out.”

His chest swelled. “Perhaps a little.”

Gianessa continued the expert pastry cutting. When he didn’t press her, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m almost ready for the mushroom stuffing.”

“Ready any time.”

Of course, he’s a step ahead of me
. He’d been working out his strategy since she came in the door, arms loaded with flour, herbs, and fillings. Justin had agreed to use his kitchen for the preparation of the hors d’oeuvres she was taking to the staff party at the Manse, on three conditions: she allow him to contribute the fresh produce and cheeses, teach him to make the hors d’oeuvres, and take him as her escort.

Gianessa cleaned her hands and swiveled into a provocative pose against the counter. He raised an eyebrow and brought the bowl of fragrant herb-mushroom mix up to her. She placed a finger on the counter, and he placed the bowl so it touched her finger.

She instructed. “Now you scoop one-fourth of the mix onto one strip of dough and spread it evenly the whole length of the strip, leaving just a little dough free at one end.”

“You trust me with this?”

“You’re a very accomplished cook, Justin.”

He feigned surprise. “Why would I ask for a cooking lesson if I already knew how to do this?”

“I cannot guess.”

“You think I am an opportunist?”

Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded.

“Perhaps.”

She laughed from her belly and touched his arm.

“You’re right,” he admitted. He spread the mixture as directed and stepped aside. “Your move.”

Gianessa rolled the strip and sealed the end. Holding the edges to prevent a spill, she deftly transferred it to one of the baking sheets already prepared with parchment paper. They worked in tandem preparing the other three strips, arms touching, hips occasionally bumping “accidentally.”