Falling For Nick (18 page)

"What's done is done." Nick went to his brother, putting his hands on Billy's shoulders. "You were just a kid, a kid who got mixed up in my problems with the Bloomfield brothers. I'm sorry you felt you had to protect me. It should have been the other way around. It wasn't your fight. I could never let you pay for a crime that had nothing to do with you. Danny was after me that night. He was always after me. In fact, I'm sure it was Danny who tried to pin the lakeside robberies on me. Danny Bloomfield hated me. He managed to turn the whole damn town against me with his wild accusations. The fight between us was a long time coming."

Nick looked into his brother's eyes, eyes that held the shine of tears.

"Jesus, Nick." Billy's face crumpled. "I love you, man. I couldn't let him shoot you. I had to hit him. I just wanted him to put the gun down. I never meant to kill him."

"I know."

A well of long suppressed sadness overcame Nick, and he hauled Billy into his arms. They embraced each other, two brothers, trying to heal the deep hurt inside. When Nick finally pulled away, he felt better, lighter somehow, as if a burden had been eased.

They'd had so little time to get their story straight that night. Billy hadn't wanted Nick to take the blame, but Nick had insisted, and Billy had given in. Later, when no gun had been found to back up Nick's story, Billy had begged Nick to let him confess, but Nick had stood firm. He'd never expected such a tough sentence, six to ten years for manslaughter, for a crime that had been self-defense. He'd been up for parole many times over the years, and each time Robert had been at his parole hearing, making sure he'd stayed put.

Until the last time. Robert had been absent. Nick had been granted parole. He'd often wondered why Robert hadn't come to the last hearing, but he sure as hell wasn't going to ask him.

"Everything's going to be all right, Billy," Nick said, wanting to give Billy something good to look forward to. "If you want to try to get the loan, I'm with you."

"Really?" Billy wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. "That's great, Nick. You won't be sorry. We can make this work. Together the Lombard brothers can do anything."

"A hundred and fifty thousand." Nick whistled. "It might as well be a million bucks."

*   *   *

Clea went to John's bedroom door and pushed it open. "Hey, honey."

John dropped the toy car he held into the case and shut the lid, turning the lock.

"Can I come in?" Clea asked. They'd spent the evening packing. John had given her the cold shoulder the entire time, speaking to her only when she required an answer. She wanted to clear the air between them before they went to bed. She wanted him to talk to her about Nick. She needed to know what John was feeling.

"I guess."

Clea smiled. She sat down on the edge of his bed. "I'd like to talk about Nick."

John pressed his lips together.

"He's not going to go away. We need to find a way to get along with him. He wants to get to know you."

"How do you know?" John asked, a defiant look in his eyes.

"I never told you this before, but he tried to stay in touch with you," Clea said. "I sent his letters back. I was angry with Nick, and a little afraid to let him into your life. I can see now how wrong I was to have kept the two of you apart. Nick's done nothing but think about you while he's been gone."

"While he was in prison," John said with disgust. He turned away from her. "He's a murderer. A loser. That's what Robert says."

Damn Robert
. "No, honey. What happened was an accident. Nick protected his brother and someone got hurt. You know all this John. I'm not understanding your anger. Are you mad at Nick, or are you mad at me because we are moving to New York?"

She reached out to touch him. He moved away from her.

John kicked his box of cars, sending the case rattling across his bedroom floor. "Robert's going to be my dad."

The anguish in his voice broke her heart. "I know you like Robert. And I promise you he will always be in your life, but give Nick a chance. You don't know him, honey. You just know he's upsetting your life. He's upsetting my life too, but I'm glad he's back."

"Why?" John asked his tone belligerent.

"I'm happy for you." Clea smiled, surprised to find she meant the words. "I'm glad you are going to have the chance to know your father. He loves you very much. Won't you give him a chance?" She held her breath, waiting for his reply.

"Why should I? You're just going to make me move to New York anyway and I'll never see him again."

"No, John." His revelation startled her. Why hadn't she seen it sooner? John was afraid to lose Nick all over again. Even though he didn't know Nick, John's heart had taken as bad a beating as hers had. "Your father will always be in your life, no matter where we live. Please, won't you give him a chance? We don't have much time before the move."

"What would I have to do?" he asked, his voice sounding small.

She wanted to reach for him and hug him until he begged her to leave him alone. "We could start by spending some time with Nick. Why don't we have him over for dinner?"

John sat down on the bed.

Eyes just like Nick's stared up at her, and she could see John's fears and hopes in the blue depths. He was just like Nick, from his stubborn streak to the physical resemblance. If he agreed to see Nick would their lives would change for better, or for the worse? They'd both be taking a chance on a man who had a bad track record keeping promises.

"Let's give Nick a chance." Clea put her arm around John's shoulders, trying to instill a confidence in him she didn't feel herself. "I'll invite him to dinner and we'll see how it goes."

This time he didn't pull away.

Clea smiled, but instead of feeling relief, she felt as if she'd just taken a leap off a cliff without a parachute.

Clea checked on dinner again. Nervous habit. She paced the length of the kitchen, stealing a look at John. He sat on the couch, his dark hair neatly combed, wearing his Sunday best, tan slacks, blue shirt, and his "good" shoes. In fifteen minutes Nick would arrive. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

Tonight was a new beginning for them, especially for John. She prayed things would go smoothly. They had so little time left here in Port Bliss, only a handful of chances for Nick and John to build a foundation for a future. She wanted the threads in place before the move, giving John something solid to hold onto after they were gone.

She walked to the front window and looked over at Nick's apartment for the tenth time. Where there had been darkness minutes before, the light was on, then the light went out. A minute later, Nick appeared on the sidewalk and set out across the street.

He was coming. A dizzy relief flowed through her and she realized she'd been worried that he wouldn't show, that he'd break his promise to her and John.

A knock sounded on her door. She ran her hand over her hair to smooth it on her way to let Nick in. Once there, she paused. John had gotten off the couch and stood behind her.

"He's here," she said, praying she was doing the right thing for her son. "Are you ready? Are you okay?"

She knew how much he wanted to like Nick, knew how much he wanted Nick to like him, even if he claimed he didn't care about his father. Every little boy wanted his father's love and John was no different.

He nodded.

"All right," she said in a cheerful voice. She pulled the door open.

"Hi." Nick's glance lit briefly on Clea before bypassing her to settle on John.

John's face held no welcoming smile, but a wary glint shone in his eyes, letting Clea know he wasn't accepting Nick yet.

"Come in." She opened the door wider and Nick walk past her into the apartment. A new Nick. Gone were the jeans and the leather jacket. Instead, Nick wore black slacks and a black shirt with a collar. He'd dressed for the meeting with as much care as his son had.

"Hello, John." Nick dropped down to one knee in front of his son, and Clea noticed he held a present under one arm. "Thanks for inviting me to dinner. I've been looking forward to it all day."

"It was Mom's idea." John shrugged, his eyes going to her. He was proud, her son. He wasn't about to let Nick see how much this visit meant to him.

Nick stared at John, and Clea couldn't begin to imagine what he was feeling. Her own apprehension turned into pangs of sympathy for Nick and for John. This meeting was tough for both of them, yet a rush of completeness came over her, and for the first time she realized how much she had always wanted this meeting to take place, how much she wanted them to like each other. Nick completed John. John completed Nick. The realization struck Clea like a lightning bolt. She felt like their lives had been a puzzle, and the last piece had finally been fitted into place.

"I brought you something." Nick held the present out to John.

John looked at Clea, wanting her confirmation to take the gift.

"It's all right." She nodded and smiled. "Go ahead."

John hesitated, then took the gift from Nick. "Thank you," he said, the words stiff and formal.

Nick smiled. "You're welcome."

"Why don't you take the present over to the sofa and open it?" Clea suggested. To Nick she said, "Let me take your jacket."

John headed over to the sofa. Nick rose, but didn't take his eyes off his son. He shrugged out of his jacket. Clea took it from him and hung the coat up.

"Come on." She tugged on Nick's arm.

At her touch, his attention turned to her. "He's amazing. Is he okay?"

"Yes."

"How's your head?" His gestured to her bandage. "Are you feeling all right?"

"The headache comes and goes, but I'm okay. Follow me." Nick trailed her to the sofa and they sat down, one on each side of their son. John tore the wrapping off the box.

"It's a model car," Nick said, when the picture on the box was revealed.

"It's The Boss," she said with wonder, recognizing the Mustang.

"I thought we could build the model together," Nick said. "If you want to."

John studied the picture on the box. "I've seen your car. Mom told me how you and your brother fixed it up."

"She did?" Nick continued to stare at John.

"I've seen it parked at the curb in front of the tavern." John looked up at his father and Clea's heart caught. It was the first time John had made direct eye contact with Nick.

"I'd love to take you for a ride in The Boss any time you like." Nick exchanged a glance with her and she could see the gratitude in his eyes.

"Maybe. I like cars, too," John said, his voice a little less frosty now. "Mom says I get that from you."

"I hope so," Nick replied, his attention back on John.

The timer went off on the stove. "Excuse me," Clea said. "I need to see to dinner." She stood. Nick started to rise. "Don't get up. You two just get acquainted. I'll be right over here if you need me."

"Thanks."

The warmth in that one word curled Clea's toes. In a matter of minutes she had the grilled chicken on the table and they took their first meal together. Clea's nerves disappeared. Nick peppered John with questions, and the boy offered mostly one-word answers in return. John wouldn't give his heart easily, and Clea really didn't want him to, not until he was ready. She hadn't expected them to be instant friends. She just didn't want them to be enemies.