The Language of Sparrows (31 page)

Chapter Forty-One

When April walked in the door, the table was set for four, with a tablecloth, no less. A salad bowl sat in the middle of the table, and the smell of beef and onions drifted out of the kitchen. She stepped inside, tentatively.

“Did elves invade my apartment?” she asked, though she knew the smell of those spices. They were Luca’s.

“Hey, Mom.”

Sierra sat cross-legged on the floor in the living room with her laptop. Luca sat in the recliner in the corner, while Carlos jotted something in a notebook on the sofa.

Sierra looked up at her, and April forgot to breathe. There was excitement in Sierra’s eyes.

April took in the scene.

“We’re going to save Mr. Foster’s job,” Sierra said with a genuine certainty that had been missing from her daughter’s voice for too long. Sierra looked to Luca.

“We are going to try,” he corrected.

“We,” Sierra said. “You, too, Mom.” She hunched her shoulders. “Right?”

April sat down on the couch behind Sierra, scanning the web page on Sierra’s computer over her shoulder, some kind of online policy book.

Luca stood. “At this point, we are only making a list. Students who know Nicolae. Perhaps some teachers.”

Luca seemed a little cooler about the plan than Sierra, and April felt a twinge of doubt. She would hate to see Sierra face any kind of failure. Not right now.

“There’s only one thing in our way,” Carlos said.

“Only one?” April said with a smile.

Carlos looked as happy as Sierra. “Mr. Foster has the information we need. Luca says he’s got hundreds of letters from his former students. And he’s got his class roster.”

“So? Ask him.”

Luca looked away.

“What? He’s not allowed to know his family and friends want to help him get his job back?”

Silence filled the room. Nick was a proud man, true, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Mom, maybe you could distract him?”

April coughed. “What? So you can break in and steal his personal correspondence?”

Carlos grinned, and Sierra looked down at her computer again. That was exactly what they planned to do. Even if she were willing to allow her sixteen-year-old daughter to commit a misdemeanor, there was a hitch. So much more than a hitch. Nick had asked her to keep her distance.

“Mom?”

April gave a firm shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Sierra. I’m not going to allow you to break into Nick’s house.”

“It’s not breaking in. Mr. Prodan has a key, and it’s his son’s house. And we’re only doing it to help Mr. Foster.”

“No.”

“It’s no different than you and Uncle Wes sneaking Aunt Hillary’s address book so you could plan a surprise party for her that time.”

She could never win at logic with Sierra. She’d have to try another tactic. Sierra deserved the truth, no matter how hard the truth. “I’m not welcome at Nick’s house, sweetie. Things are a bit complicated, but he asked me not to visit.”

Sierra looked at her, her eyes large and confused.

Luca wasn’t bothered at all. “You would not be visiting him, so this is good. He would be visiting you.”

“He told me he doesn’t want to see me, Luca.”

“Hmm. I do not think you understood what he said.”

“He was quite clear.”

“Nicu said he did not wish to see you? But people do not always mean what they say.” There was a mischievous gleam in Luca’s eye. “Perhaps he meant he wished for a reason to look forward to your visit.”

April threw up her hands. “I can’t believe this.” She stood and gave Sierra an even glance. “You’re not breaking into Nick’s home.”

She strode into the kitchen. She stirred the pot of simmering beef and onions and clanged the lid on it. What they were suggesting was ludicrous. Every bit of it.

When Luca came into the kitchen, she pointed the spoon at him. “You’re wiser than that.” She looked at the kids out in the living room, but they were busy whispering about their plan. Quietly, she said, “Luca, if you think I’m going to lure him to meet me with a lie, with a suggestion of offering something I can’t … Nick would never forgive me. Not even for his job.”

“I did not suggest you lie.”

“What
did
you suggest exactly?”

He took the spoon from her, opened the pot, and sprinkled crushed parsley from a bowl, then began to stir. “I suggested you tell him the truth.”

“The truth?”

He put the spoon on the cutting board and stepped close, looking her straight in the eye. “We have shared enough, April. We can be honest with each other. You love my son. My son loves you. I only ask that you tell him so.”

Luca was clever. Did he think he could kill two birds with one stone? But telling Nick she loved him would lead nowhere. Nick already had a good idea of her feelings for him.

He rested his hand on the counter, all mischief gone now. “Your daughter’s plan, I cannot say if it will succeed. What is more important is that you and Nicu speak honestly with each other. You once asked me to do a very hard thing—to tell my own story. It was difficult, but I did it for my son. Yet, I think perhaps it was more important that I tell the story than it was for my son to hear it. So I feel I can return your favor.” He dropped his gaze. “It is a hard thing after your husband’s illness and death for you to think of building a life with another man, yes?”

“Yes,” April said quietly.

“You do not have to build a life with my Nicu. But if you do this hard thing, if you tell him the truth of how you feel, of your love and your fear, you will be a stronger woman.”

“You know it could just as well be you who talked to Nick. He has some things he’d like to hear from you.”

“Yes, April, it could be me.” But there was a challenge in his eyes.

April paced her bedroom that night.

How could she? How could she just come out and tell Nick how she felt now? What good would it do to tell him she loved him but that she was paralyzed with fear and guilt and so many other emotions that would destroy anything good between them? She didn’t even know how to talk to Nick.

The next night April tried, unsuccessfully, to distract herself with a novel in bed. Sierra wandered in and sat on the floor, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, just rested her chin on her knees. It didn’t take a mind reader to know what was coming next.

“Why did Mr. Foster tell you he didn’t want to see you?”

“It wasn’t a rude thing. We didn’t have a fight.”

Sierra waited, and April knew she’d have to tell her. “Nick loves me. And I care for him too. But romance … It’s too soon for me. After Dad. Nick asked for distance. His heart needs space to mend.”

Sierra got a faraway look. She grieved for Gary too. But she’d no doubt been looking for a father figure. Wasn’t that why she formed the connection to Luca in the first place? And Nick was quite a friend to her.

The light in Sierra’s eyes sent a shiver through April. She’d been so sure getting involved would be too hard for Sierra.

“It’s no good, Sierra,” April said. “I’m not getting married again. I’m not sure I’ll even be dating again.”

“Okay.” But Sierra stared into the air as if there were some image only she could see.

How had April not seen it? Nick as Sierra’s stepfather. Luca as Sierra’s grandfather. They were so special to her already. To bring them in closer, for Sierra to have two men she could count on as she put the pieces of her life together …

April closed her eyes. It was no good. It would destroy Sierra for April to start a romance with Nick she didn’t think she could follow through on.

Sierra pulled the blanket close. “Funny, Mom. I never thought of Mr. Foster like that. I don’t know. If you liked him, I think I could get used to the idea.” She shook off her bewildered gaze. “But what Mr. Prodan and Carlos and I want to do, it’s about Mr. Foster’s job. If you don’t want me to take his letters, I won’t. But I’ve got a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

Sierra just shook her head. “I won’t break into anyone’s home or anything. You’ll see.”

Sierra’s eyes blazed, and her whole face filled with determination. This was the girl, the one who could not only survive the heartbreak life threw her way but who could take the pain and mold it into something else. April wasn’t going to ruin the moment by crying or getting syrupy. She just said, “I guess I will see. Let me know if I can help.”

Chapter Forty-Two

April sat on the park bench. The park was quiet. An elderly couple strolled hand in hand on the jogging trail, and a mother helped her daughter down the slides.

“April.”

Nick stood in the sunlight. Just the sound of his voice warmed her. She’d gone too many days without hearing it.

He took a seat at the other end of the bench. He was thinner, and dark circles under his eyes gave evidence of lost sleep. But the haunted look she’d seen in his eyes last time was gone, replaced by stillness.

What was Luca thinking? Nick was a man without a job, and his job had fueled his passion for life. This was no time to discuss her feelings for him.

She looked off to a wide patch of grass, wondering if he remembered meeting her here last fall. She’d been unable to take the picture of the men performing Tai Chi, and he’d taken her to his friend’s to look at the photos in the back of the carpet shop.

“How’s Sierra?” Nick asked.

“She’s doing well. I know she’s still got some dark days ahead, but I think she’s turned a corner.” The memory of talking with Sierra last night still left her in awe.

That snippet of news pleased him, but he let the conversation drop. He was here at her invitation, so he waited.

“It’s Truth or Dare time again,” April said softly. “Are you up for it?”

“I’ll take truth for a thousand, Alex.” He was quick on the uptake, references to Jeopardy and all, but despite the dry humor, his face remained guarded.

“How did I know you’d pick truth?”

Nick smiled. “In love and war …”

“I was really hoping for a dare. I’m not much with the truth.” She let out a nervous laugh. Did he read the pain in her eyes, because his was spilling out for anyone to see.

A crow landed at their feet and began to peck at the grass. A runner sprinted by. She’d rehearsed what she would say to Nick, had alternate backup versions even, but her mind drew a blank. All she could think of was the space between them.

“I’m so sorry, Nick. The truth is hard for me.” She slowed her breathing. “I don’t know why I asked you to come here. You’ve already got so much stress. You don’t need mine.”

He reached his arm along the back of the bench. “It’s okay, April. If you want to talk, I want to listen.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t do truth. Painting rainbows over rainstorms. That’s been the rule of my life. Fourteen years of my husband going in and out of hospitals and trying one drug cocktail after another, fighting a life-sucking, mind-altering depression I didn’t even know existed. And I smiled and I said, ‘It’s going to get better’ like a never-changing chorus, and I acted as if I believed God would make sense of our pain.”

Her voice trembled and Nick slid close, taking her hand, enveloping it in both of his.

“I never once said, ‘There’s no hope left.’ I wouldn’t even allow myself to think the words. The only time I let my guard down was to encourage Gary to go to the history conference in Italy. He was doing better. I didn’t say I needed him to leave me and Sierra alone for a couple of weeks because I was suffocating waiting for the latest treatment to stop working as they always did. But I guess Gary had learned to decode my words by then, because he went to the conference even though he knew he wasn’t ready for it. He went to the conference. And he came home in a casket.”

A muscle twitched in Nick’s cheek, and his hands around hers grew tight. She looked out at the pond, gathering herself.

“So that night you kissed me last winter,” April went on, her voice growing thick. “You were so alive with strength and goodness, and I just wanted you to hold me. But I told myself with all our family issues, we’d break each other’s hearts and Sierra’s and your dad’s in the mix. I told you it would never work between us. I tried to find something sweet to soften my rejection of you and what was happening between us, so I said you were like family. I couldn’t even tell myself the truth.”

She looked up at the sky. “I can’t let you love me, Nick. And I can’t love you back. How can I? My husband is dead because of me.”

He put his arms around her and rested his face against the top of her head. He didn’t need to speak. His presence was enough. For now she let Nick’s arms surround her and savored his comfort, the way a drunk must relish his last drink before going sober.

Nick kissed her temple, kissed her lips so briefly she ached for more, but he drew back. “April, you couldn’t have stopped him. If your husband had stayed in town with you, and you kept painting rainbows for him and giving him that golden smile of yours, eventually, he would still have killed himself. You know that.”

She looked into Nick’s eyes, trying to hold on to that thought.

“You couldn’t give him what the medicine and the doctors couldn’t.”

She drew a ragged breath.

“Some things aren’t in your power. Your husband’s condition was one of them.”

April nodded, numb. It was true, but it didn’t feel any more real.

Nick took her face in his hands. “I’ll tell you one more thing that’s not in your power. Me. You can’t tell me I can’t love you, because I do.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “April, sweet April. You were right all along. Our lives are complicated.” His voice grew rough. “We each have our own grief. Maybe we would add more rips to each other’s lives. Maybe we’d hurt each other and Sierra and my dad.”

He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. “But it’s too late to worry about breaking my heart. You’ve broken it already.”