Listen To Your Heart (19 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Listen To Your Heart
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“The cookies are done. Just take them out and leave the tray on top of the stove.”
Paul inched his way over to the middle of the floor and sat down opposite the little boy. The speckled dog eyed him warily until he reached out to scratch him behind the ears. The little boy laughed. “Him likes that.”
“I bet he does. How old are you, Pete?”
“Three. See, three fingers,” he said holding up four fingers. Paul laughed. The little boy giggled.
Paul held out his arms. “C'mere.” The detective was right. He was a sturdy, solid little boy, just the way Paul had been at the same age. He felt good in Paul's arms. Good and right. Hot tears pricked at his eyelids. “We're going to get you fixed up and you are going to have the best life there is. That's a promise.” He held him away for a moment. “How would you like a bright red wagon and a new tri-cycle?”
The little boy's head bobbed up and down.
“We'll get Ollie a big ball and some toys and you can play in the same courtyard I did when I was little. Would you like that?”
“Mommie, too?”
“You bet.”
“I'm ready,” Nancy said.
“Do you have everything?” Paul said, appalled at the two suitcases.
“Yes, this is it. I wash a lot.”
“You don't have to explain to us. Things will be different now. I promise you.”
Nancy's fingers flew a second time. The little boy scampered out of Paul's lap. He gathered up the blocks into a box, then shoved it under a table.
“We're going with these people in the car. Ollie is coming, too. We're going to a new place to live where there are lots of trees and toys and little children for you to play with. This is your great-uncle Paul. And this lady is Miss Josie. Mind your manners now—you hear me?”
“Yes, Mommie.”
“I'll come back for the bags. First we want to get settled in the car” Paul said.
Paul walked through the small two-bedroom apartment. He clenched his teeth at the single bed in the small room that also held a cot. Because of the clowns and animals on the spread, it was obvious the boy slept in the bed and Nancy slept on the cot. The bathroom was clean and tidy, the towels threadbare. “Damn!”
Something perverse in him made him march across the hall to the larger bedroom. It was messy and cluttered. Either it was hands-off, or Nancy didn't give a hoot about her father's room. He rather thought it was the latter.
The living room was small but clean. Three chairs, a coffee table full of cigarette burns, and a fifteen-inch black-and-white television. Other than the box of blocks under the table there was nothing else to see. At best, the furniture was worn, possibly secondhand. Hadn't he seen all this when he first walked in? No, he'd only had eyes for the little boy and his niece. What a colorless, flat existence. When his eyes started to burn again, he picked up the bags and closed the door behind him. He was never coming back there, and neither was Nancy, Pete, or Ollie.
Never.
Ever.
Ten
K
itty Dupré stared at her sister across the breakfast table. She knew immediately that there was something different about Josie. It wasn't just that she was staring out the window with a dreamy look in her eyes. She looked relaxed and at peace. Finally. She and her twin were so alike yet unalike in so many ways. Yes, they were tuned in to one another; yes, they thought alike on a variety of subjects ; and yes, they wanted the same things out of life. Somehow, though, after their parents' deaths, Josie had never been the same. The shadows never quite left her eyes, and while she smiled, it always seemed like a practiced effort. So many times she'd bemoaned the fact that she didn't get a chance for that one last final good-bye. Life wasn't always fair, and sometimes life threw flyballs you were unable to catch no matter how hard you strained.
Kitty wished now that she had woken Josie when she got in last night, but it had been way too late, and she didn't want to disturb the dogs and set up a ruckus. Lately there hadn't been many of those sit-cross-legged-in-the-middle-of-the-bed-and-tell-secrets times. She missed them. She was going to miss them even more when she moved away in January.
Kitty nudged her sister. “I want every single detail and don't leave a thing out.
Everything,
Josie. By the way, why is Zip still here? I swear, you look positively iridescent.”
“Paul asked me to marry him, Kitty.”
Kitty clapped her hands. “And you said . . . what?”
“I said yes. Do you believe that, Kitty? I said yes. I didn't even think about it. Marie Lobelia is his mother. He found his niece and her little boy. I went with him. He gave up the family business and is now a partner with Jack Emery. He's . . . he's . . . wonderful. It's like he shed this skin that wasn't his and now the
real
Paul Brouillette is here. My God, I love that man! Mom approves. It's so weird. First it was the lilies of the valley and then it was the pearls and . . . I know she approves. Everything just suddenly fell into place. I couldn't want or ask for anything more. Is that how it was with you and Harry?”
“Yes, and it's still like that. I'm glad you didn't get upset when I called in for the extra day. It's nice to have reliable help to take up the slack. That was a good decision on our part to hire her. So, when's the wedding?”
“Paul wants it soon. I don't have a dress. I told him maybe August at the earliest. What I would really like is a double wedding with you and Harry. Can you switch up?”
“I might be able to twist Harry's arm. I'll have to cancel the hall and a bunch of stuff if we have it here in the garden. That's what you want, isn't it?”
Josie nodded. “If we do it here, Mom and Dad can come. Their spirits are here, Josie. I feel it. Mom always said the only thing she wanted was for the two of us to be happy. But, maybe once we get married, and she sees we're happy, she'll leave. Do you think that will happen?”
“I don't know, Josie, but you have to let it go. Mom's gone. Life goes on.”
“I know that, Kitty. I know, too, that it's all wishful thinking on my part. My pearls broke because I pulled on them. The lilies of the valley are flowers and flowers give off a scent. Branches sway and leaves rustle because of a breeze that comes out of nowhere. I know all that. It just makes me feel better to
believe.
All I wanted was to say good-bye.”
“Things will change now, Josie. You have Paul. You're going to get married, and you'll have kids and so will I. It will be our life like Mom had her life. We'll still have our memories even when we're old with gray hair. We have each other. That's never going to change. If it's any consolation to you, I felt exactly the same way until I met Harry.”
“You never said a thing. Why?”
“I thought you'd laugh at me. Like you, it was wishful thinking on my part. I didn't get to say good-bye, either. There's a logical explanation for everything if you look hard enough to find it. We simply didn't want to look. I wanted to believe, too.”
Josie felt her eyes mist over. “If ever we needed a sign, now is the time.” Both girls grew quiet and looked around. Nothing happened. The fan overhead whirred softly. The refrigerator hummed the way it always did. Outside the birds chittered in the trees the same way they did every morning. The prevailing scent of the day was cinnamon from a plug-in deodorizer. She shrugged. Kitty smiled.
“Tell me about the niece, Josie.”
“She's young, and her little boy is adorable, but he has a hearing problem. He knows how to sign. His mother taught him. It's sad, but I know Paul will do everything in his power to make it right for the child. They're staying at his house until he decides how he wants to handle it. At first he wanted to wait till Mother's Day, but I more or less talked him out of that. He wants what we all want from our parents—approval. He told me he played so many scenarios over and over in his mind about how he was going to walk into his mother's house with his niece and his great-nephew until he got dizzy. I hope he can come away happy. I hope Marie can convince him that she truly does love him. Why is it, Kitty, that people are so stubborn sometimes?”
Kitty grinned. “If I knew that, I'd write a book.”
“What I don't want to see happen is what I think will happen. Paul's going to take Nancy and Pete to his mother, explain the situation, and turn around and leave. It's going to be one of those see, I did this for you even though you did all those terrible things to me. He doesn't understand what it is to grieve for the death of a child. He's afraid to open up where his mother is concerned. He won't run the risk of being hurt again. He's got that hurt all packaged neatly in the back of his mind and heart, and he isn't about to open it up.”
Kitty propped her chin on her elbow and stared across the table at her sister. Her free hand traced the strawberry on the coffee cup. “Maybe you need to help things along a little.”
“You mean interfere? I can't do that, Kitty.”
“Then how about if I do it? I could go and talk to Marie and explain it all.”
“This is none of our business. It's something Paul has to do on his own. He has to do what is right for him, what he can live with.”
“A nudge then. Just a little one. We could go to Marie's together. I could bake a cream praline pie and we can take it with us. Let's do it, Josie. This is Sunday. Tomorrow or Tuesday he'll decide to take his niece and nephew over there. She's an old lady. Maybe the shock will do something to her.”
“No. We aren't going to interfere. Paul has to find his own way.”
“Then I guess there's nothing left to say. I have to get to work. Did you get that mint tea I asked you to pick up for the high tea we're serving this afternoon?”
“Two big boxes. They're on the kitchen counter.”
Kitty waltzed over to the counter as she sang, off-key, the words to her newest favorite song . . .
“Now let me ask you quite honestly, do you know me or just like what you see? Wearin' dresses just above the knee, it might be pleasin' but it's killing me!”
Josie chimed in, her arm around her sister's shoulders.
“I'm getting rid of all my pantyhose, and all those high heels with the pointy toes. I'm gonna find myself some comfortable clothes, and I'm getting rid of all my pantyhose.”
“You better not quit your day job either.” Kitty laughed. “I acted it all out for Harry. The song I mean. I combed my hair like Corinda Carford and really put on a show for him. By the way, what happened to the mangos?”
“I threw them out because they turned black and squishy,” Josie said.
“A likely story.”
“I didn't . . . I wouldn't . . . they were rotten! Kittyyyyy!”
Kitty was halfway down the path to the test kitchen when she called over her shoulder, “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” Josie muttered.
 
Paul sat in the waiting room, his niece's hand in his. He smiled reassuringly.
“What's taking so long? He's been in there for hours.”
“I guess it's a delicate operation. Dr. Tumin is a fine pediatric surgeon. I'm sure Pete will come out of this just the way he said he would. He's going to be fine. Two days in the hospital, and he goes home. They've agreed to let you stay with him around the clock. I hired a private-duty nurse. We've got it covered. It's Ollie I'm worried about. He's never been away from Pete.”
“Ollie will be fine. I gave him one of Pete's socks and an old shirt. He sleeps with them. As long as you walk him every four hours, he's fine. He knows Pete's coming back. He likes your house. There's lots of room for him to run around. It's hard for me to believe we've been here a whole month. When are we going to meet my grandmother? Have you given any thought to the fact that she might not welcome us with open arms?”
“I don't think there will be a problem. I thought it best to wait until Pete was over his surgery. There would be less strain on you and the boy. My mother, too, for that matter. My plan is to take you to the house on Sunday. Did your father ever tell you about the courtyard?”
“No.”
“It's just perfect for a little boy to play in. It's all bricked with fountains and flowers and walls. Moss grows between the bricks. There's a magnificent old oak tree Pete will itch to climb as he gets a little older. It was my favorite place when I was little. Your mother and I used to climb it and scare the daylights out of our mother. She said we were agile as monkeys.”
“What was my mother like?”
“She was so very pretty. She was kind. Sometimes siblings aren't kind to one another, but she was. She always had time for me. I imagine I was a bit of a pest back in those days.”
“Was my father devastated when she died? Is that why he turned out the way he is? Why did he take me away?”
“I can only guess and repeat the things I heard the grown-ups say. I don't know if it's true or not. Your father wasn't fond of working. My parents supported your mother and father for a long time. They didn't want their oldest daughter to lack for anything. Maybe they overwhelmed your father. Maybe he thought he wasn't good enough to belong to the family. But because your mother loved him, my parents made the best of it. Perhaps they shouldered too much of the burden. I simply don't know, Nancy. What I do know for a fact is your mother had a very healthy bank account, thanks to your grandparents. She had a lot of jewelry that he took along with the money. Jewelry that should go to you. I don't know if he sold it off or not. I do know he cleaned out the bank account. That's about all I can tell you.”
“Tell me about my grandmother.”
Here it was, the one thing he didn't want to talk about. How was he to tell this anxious mother he really didn't know his own mother? “You'll like her. She can be warm and witty. She never much cared for cooking or keeping house. My father indulged her and let her work in the cornmeal plant. She did a wonderful job but for some reason she was not up for change. She wanted to keep everything the way it was. It was almost as though she found herself caught up in a time warp. You see, things changed after your mother died, and then my other sister died. It was very hard on her. I'm sure she will dote on Pete. She's frail now, and she lives in the French Quarter—in our old house—with her sisters. They watch soap operas and play cards. You and Pete will be like a breath of fresh air for all of them. There's nothing for you to worry about on that score. The doctor's coming,” Paul said, squeezing his niece's hands.
“The boy's fine. You can see him now if you like. He's not quite awake, but he did ask about Ollie. I assumed he was a pet, so I said he was sleeping. You might want to reassure him on that score. Pete will hear, in time—a month, possibly a little longer—just like any other little boy.”
“Thank you so much,” Nancy said tearfully as she clung to Paul's arm.
“If you follow me, I'll take you to Pete's room.”
Paul stared through the glass at the little boy lying in the hospital bed, a nurse at his side. “I'll leave you two alone, Nancy. It's time to walk Ollie. I thought I would take a Polaroid shot of the dog and bring it back later. I have some meetings scheduled for this afternoon, but I'll stop on the way home from work. This evening I'll bring Josie by. I know she wants to see Pete.”
Nancy stared at her son, only half-hearing her uncle's words. She nodded. It was all there in her face: the love she felt for her son, the worry, the anxiety, and the relief as well. And it was just an operation. What would she look like if the operation hadn't been successful or if something had gone awry and the boy had died on the operating table? She'd probably look the way his mother had looked the day June died. How well he remembered that awful blank, uncomprehending look and then the heart-wrenching scream that he still heard sometimes in his dreams.

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