Forever in My Heart Page 7

  She moved to the front of the shop and straightened the chairs. Glancing out the window, she saw the Two Guys van across the street. Jamie was somewhere nearby. She frowned when her pulse raced at the possibility of seeing him again.

  “Hey, Vick, we’re almost out of cups from the morning rush,” Lucy called from counter.

  Vicky stared at her a moment before shaking her head. “I’m on it.”

  Lucy caught up to her as she made a beeline for the kitchen. “You all right?” Lucy asked, putting a hand on her arm.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I was thinking it’s time to put an ad in the paper for a dishwasher—at least for the morning.”

  Lucy held up her chapped hands. “I know my hands would be appreciative. Sure yours would, too.”

  “I’ll call the paper today.”

  After stacking the dishwasher and turning it on, Vicky straightened up the already neat kitchen. Picking up the trash by the door, she headed into the alley. Throwing the bags in the trash bin, she sat on the bottom step and welcomed the breeze that teased at the back of her hair.

  It was then that she heard voices. They were deep and low, but Jamie’s was easy to pick out. Standing, she moved where she could hear better without being seen. Growing up she’d been a good sneak and had found out about more than one Christmas present by eavesdropping. It wasn’t a skill she used now as an adult, but she couldn’t help herself today.

  “I told you I don’t have what you’re looking for,” Jamie said, his voice irritated.

  “And like I told you, you’d better find it, unless you want something to happen to dear old Dad,” the other voice said. She peeked around the corner but couldn’t identify the other person.

  There was more murmuring, and she couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation, but the next thing she knew, there was the definite sound of punches being thrown. She moved closer and saw two men holding Jamie’s arms while another one punched him in the stomach. At first she cringed at the contact, but then almost laughed when the skinny guy—Jimmy something from what she remembered—started cursing and rubbing at his hand.

  Distracted by the shouting of their friend, the thugs must have loosened their grip, allowing Jamie to twist out of their clutches and knock their heads together. The three men—if you could call them that—ran off down the street.

  Jamie leaned up against the wall and tried to catch his breath. “Enjoy the show?” he called in her direction.

  She stepped out of the shadows. “How did you know I was there?”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m trained to be aware of my surroundings and see who doesn’t want to be seen. I knew the minute the door to your shop opened.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who were those guys?”

  “Nobody important.” He straightened and flinched.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Ignoring him, she walked closer. “Both your mouth and hand are bleeding. Follow me, and I’ll clean you up.”

  ****

  Not giving him a choice, Vicky led Jamie through the kitchen to her upstairs apartment.

  “Sit.” She pointed to a wooden kitchen chair.

  She stepped into the bathroom and gathered first aid products. Rather than sitting, he was walking around the studio room. She could feel his gaze assess her belongings. Of course, today had to be the day she hadn’t made her bed and had dirty clothes from the night before thrown haphazardly on the floor. Sure enough, a pair of panties and matching bra lay on the floor.

  Figures.

  She collected them and tossed them into the hamper up against the wall.

  “This is a great space. Large and open,” he said.

  “And seriously outdated. I’ve been trying to fix things up on my days off. It needs a big time overhaul, but until I hit the lottery, I need to rely on what’s free or cheap.”

  He didn’t say anything but studied her with deep blue eyes that didn’t reveal any of what he was thinking, but made her body heat from its intensity.

  She ran the hot water and wet a washcloth. Bringing it over to him, she blotted at the blood on his mouth. He flinched.

  “Come on, army guy. You’re not afraid of a little warm water, are you?” she taunted, holding up the washcloth again.

  He smiled and for the first time since he’d returned, she noticed the dimples she’d forgotten were there. She pulled him toward the sink and after re-wetting the cloth, pressed it to his mouth again. His gaze held her in a hypnotic trance until she finally managed to look away.

  “What did those jerks want from you, anyway?”

  “They just wanted some cash.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, right. Because you look like the perfect target for a mugging. All six feet of you with rippling muscles.”

  He winced again, although she couldn’t tell if it was from the cut or her essentially telling him she didn’t believe him.

  “They were friends with Sal. He often loaned them money, and they thought they could hit me up for a few hundred.”

  She stared into his eyes, hoping to gauge if he was telling her the truth, but couldn’t read his expression. Regardless of what he said, Vicky was certain there was more to the story than he was letting on.

  “Does anything hurt?” she asked.

  “My knuckles are pretty scraped up.” He held up his hand for her to inspect.

  She grimaced, cleaned the wounds, and applied antiseptic.

  “How’s your stomach. It looked like Jimmy may have broken his fingers the way he yelped.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he bruised them pretty good.”

  He lifted the edge of his shirt to reveal a jaw dropping set of six-pack abs. Grasping her hand, he placed it against his rock-hard stomach.

  “Work out much?” she teased.

  “A couple hours a day. I got used to it, and it helps relieve stress.”

  She figured he had a ton of it with his father just home from the hospital and his mother off the wagon.

  “How are things with your dad?”

  He shrugged. “He’s mule-headed Italian—a real capa tost’ you know? He needs to watch his diet and start exercising. I’ve been staying with him and cooking healthy foods, but all he does is complain. My mother has spoiled him all these years.”

  “Isn’t your mom there to take care of him now?”

  He looked down, as though embarrassed. “She’s in rehab.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “The night of my father’s heart attack, she had passed out. If she hadn’t been drunk, she may have heard him calling for help.”

  “It’s good that you’re getting her in a program, then.”

  “I only hope she stays in it the entire time and doesn’t skip out like she’s done in the past.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  Without thinking what she was doing, she slid her hands along his chest, fascinated by the changes in his body from the eighteen-year-old boy she’d last seen. She’d thought him beautiful then, but now—hell, he was downright breathtaking. The warmth of his skin seeped through her fingers and into her. She could have sworn she felt him tremble beneath her hand—or was it her hand that shook?

  He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Thanks for cleaning me up.”

  Her heart pounded as she continued to touch him, her strokes getting surer as the seconds passed.

  He took a step closer to her. “Vicky,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  Nononono. God, no.

  What had she started? This couldn’t be, she couldn’t want him—yet she did. He encircled her waist, pulling her against all six feet of hardness. His lips skimmed hers, the briefest of butterfly kisses.

  Her nipples were tight against her bra, begging to be free—begging for his touch. She arched into him, wanting to press her chest against his hard skin.

  Just as his hands slid up toward her breasts, her cell rang.

  She jumped a m
ile and sprang away from him. “That’s Lucy downstairs. She’s probably wondering what happened to me.”

  Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the phone. “Hey, Luce,” she said, her voice breathless.

  Vicky pressed a hand to her flushed cheeks. “I’ll be right down.”

  She turned to Jamie, who also looked uncomfortable. Of course that could’ve been from the huge bulge between his legs.

  “A group of senior citizens walked in. I gotta go,” she said.

  He reached for her arm. “Vick—we’re not done with this.”

  “We are for now.” She shook free from his grasp and headed downstairs.

  Chapter Eight

  “You look good, Ma,” Jamie said, leaning down to embrace his mother.

  “I feel good—at least better than I have in years,” Barbara said.

  She’d styled her hair but skipped the usual pound of makeup she normally applied. The result took years off her sixty.

  With her arm tucked through his, they walked through the gardens of the rehab center.

  “Come, there’s something I want to show you,” she said.

  She led him to a portion of the garden. Bright-colored flowers of multiple shades and variation covered the small area.

  “A couple of my friends and I did this.” She pointed to the flower bed.

  “It’s pretty. They allow you to garden?”

  “They encourage it, actually. Some people paint, others play instruments. I like to garden. I’m thinking of starting one when I go home.”

  “It’s a great idea.”

  “How’s the business coming along?”

  “It’s taking a little bit longer than I hoped it would. People are not as welcoming as I’d expected.”

  “Even you’re impacted by the evil deeds of your brothers.”

  He shrugged, not wanting her to realize the full extent of the family’s tarnished reputation. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  They walked in silence a few minutes.

  “Did you know Vicky DiFrancesco opened a café?” he asked.

  “Really? I’ve been out of touch with my friends for a while.”

  Jamie remembered how close she and Carmen DiFrancesco had been. During his teenage years, it seemed as though their families were regularly at one another’s house. Then there were the three weeks they would spend down the shore together. Staying in separate apartments of a duplex was okay, especially the summer before he entered the army. The summer he and Vicky—

  “Have you seen her? Vicky, I mean.”

  He shook his head to clear away the thoughts of that long-lost summer. “Yeah. My partner, Tristan, and I stop in her place for coffee. She still makes the best cannolis this side of the world.”

  His mother gave him a sideways glance. “You always did like her cannolis.”

  Unless he was mistaken, he could have sworn his mother’s tone held just enough sarcasm to imply he liked way more than only Vicky’s cannolis. Little did his mother know—or did she?

  “Her store seems to be doing pretty well. The place could use some fixing up, though. It’s the same building where their pizzeria used to be.”

  “That’s right. I remember Johnny telling me Carmen and Joe opened a restaurant up on City Line Avenue. Must be pretty fancy, then.”

  “I haven’t been there. Based on Vicky’s reaction to seeing me at the café, I don’t think I’d be welcomed at her family’s restaurant.”

  “She gave you a hard time.”

  “She’d prefer it if I stayed clear of her store.”

  “I’m presuming you didn’t, then?”

  His mother knew him well. As a child, whenever someone had told him not to do something, he’d do everything in his power to do exactly that. One time, he’d broken his arm because she’d told him not to climb to the top of the monkey bars at school.

  “Not even when Nick stopped by and threatened to toss me in jail.”

  “He can’t do that, can he?”

  “Not without just cause, and I haven’t done anything the slightest bit questionable.”

  She put her arm around his waist. “Of course you haven’t, my sweet boy. You’ve always been my angel—unlike your brothers.” Her voice cracked, and he could tell she was trying not to cry.

  “Oh, Ma. Come here.” He stopped walking and hugged her close, thinking it odd to be comforting her when all his life it’d been the reverse.

  “I’m sorry. The doctors encourage me to express my feelings, but I find myself bursting out into tears at the oddest times. Last night, I cried while eating my chocolate pudding.”

  “I don’t mind you crying. Talk to me.” He led her to a bench in the shade.

  “It was horrible when Mario and Tony died. I didn’t think I could bear the pain. Not only did I have to deal with my two-year-old grandson dead, but his father had been responsible.”

  “I’ve heard rumors he’d been abusing Kate.”

  “Carmen came to talk to me shortly before Mario and Tony died. She tried to explain what had been happening, but I didn’t believe her. I called her a liar and was angry at her for telling such horrible stories about my son. She was my friend and wasn’t supposed to talk trash about one of my kids. I was wrong, so very wrong.”

  “You’re not responsible for what Mario did.”

  “Maybe not, but if I had listened to Carmen, maybe I could have stopped such a tragic thing from happening.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Then there’s Sal. He got himself caught up with the wrong people. I tried to tell your father to set him straight, but he wasn’t any help.”

  “Not even a stint in the slammer helped.”

  She shook her head. “I was so hopeful when he was released. He promised he’d turned over a new leaf, found God, and mended his ways.”

  Humph. His older brother had always been a good talker. He could bullshit himself out of almost any situation. Clearly, he fooled their mother.

  “Why didn’t you tell me what he’d done to Vicky and Kate? I had to hear it from Vicky.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been difficult for me to face what he’d done. Is it any wonder I haven’t been able to show my face around town the past few years?”

  “No, but staying home and drinking didn’t help you either.”

  “I know. I know. Every day I woke up saying I’d stop, but I couldn’t find the strength to.”

  “What about Pop?”

  “He tried but eventually gave up on me. Once he retired, he spent a lot of time at the racetrack with his buddies. Even when he didn’t gamble, he’d go to watch the horses.”

  Nice going, Pop.

  “What happens when it’s time to leave here?”

  “I don’t know. Your father isn’t the easiest man to live with. I’m scared that unless things change at home, I’ll go back to my old habits.”

  “I’ve been staying with Pop and know what you mean about him not being easy to live with.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be there to make sure you don’t regress.”

  “I’m so glad you’re home. You’re all I have, honey.”

  His mother’s words weighed heavily on his shoulders. He’d spent the past nine years of his life defending his country. Now, when he was finally a civilian and could make his own life, he needed to take care of his mother. Yet another clusterfuck in his life. As much as it wasn’t fair, neither was what his mother was going through. And he’d do whatever it took to protect her—even from herself.

  ****

  She really needed to get a life, Vicky thought as she set the table at her parents’ house. Here it was, a Saturday night, and she was spending it with her family. She didn’t mind; it was more the fact that she didn’t have anything better to do that had her depressed.

  Lucy had plans with Tristan, which left Vicky’s choices to either head to the movie theater alone or spend the night finishing up the grouting in her shower stall. As neither option sounded good, she found he
rself surrounded by her over-zealous family.

  Her nephew Lucas was running around the room, hiding from his older cousins, Joey and Gina, who were with Nick for the weekend. Vicky wasn’t sure why there was a family dinner, but she felt something in the air. Kate had seemed on edge, which wasn’t at all unusual, but her husband, Edward, did as well. She wondered if something was up with the newlyweds. She hoped they weren’t fighting. She so wasn’t in a mood to deal with that.

  After pouring water in the dinner glasses, Vicky headed upstairs to the bathroom. The door was closed—typical for a house with only one bathroom and six people. And tonight there were four more. She leaned against the wall and waited for the door to open. The sound of heaving was followed by the flush of the toilet. Just great. Now someone was sick.

  Deciding to go downstairs and figure out who was missing, she started toward the stairs. When the bathroom door opened, a pale-faced Kate walked out and across the hall into the guest room.

  Pivoting on her heel, Vicky knocked on the bedroom door.

  Her brother-in-law opened it. “Hello, Vicky. Kate’s resting for a bit before dinner,” Edward said in his lyrical British accent.

  Rather than listen, Vicky pushed past him and into the room. Kate lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows.

  “I heard you getting sick. What’s wrong?” Vicky asked.

  Kate met Edward’s eyes across the room, and he shut the door.

  “We were going to tell everyone at dinner.” She reached out for her husband’s hand. “We’re pregnant.”

  Joy filled Vicky’s heart. Uncomfortable showing her sister how she felt, though, she covered it up with her usual sarcasm. “It’s about time, too. You’re not getting any younger, Sis.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and patted the mattress next to her.

  Vicky dropped onto the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?”

  “I took two pregnancy tests, and the doctor confirmed it last week.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “About eight weeks,” Kate said.

  Vicky counted back and smiled. “Honeymoon baby, then. Awesome.” She nudged Edward in the arm. “I knew you had it in you, Bro.”