When Sparks Fly (9 page)

By the time the kitchen was tidy again, the cake and brownies had cooled enough to be frosted. Piling thick globs of chocolate icing on each, she swirled and smoothed it with a knife, setting both on the counter with the pie. Bringing the bowl to the sink, ready to dunk it in the soapy water, she had an idea and set it on the table instead. Tiptoeing down the hall, she crept into the guest room, smiling at her sleeping daughter, one sock kicked off, her bare toes peeking out from under the blanket. Leroy raised his head when she sat on the edge of the bed, clearly ready to guard his young friend if the need arose.

“Kimber sweetie, wake up,” Monica said, shaking her shoulder gently. “I have a treat for you.”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the little girl sat up slowly, clearly still half-asleep. Her ponytail was askance, and her right cheek was red and had creases in it from where she had lain on the pillow. “Is it morning?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head and yawning loudly.

“No baby, it’s still Thursday. It’s time for you to get up from your nap. Be quiet, though. Grandma Fran and Grandpa Bill are still sleeping.”

“Okay.” She slid off the bed, retrieving her sock from the floor and pulling it on her foot. “Come on, Leroy.” The dog jumped to the floor at her command, ready for any adventure his new friend had in mind.

Returning to the kitchen, Monica taught Kimber how to scrape frosting out of the bowl, enjoying the ritual as much as her daughter. Spoons clinked as they battled for the last glob of chocolate, laughing uncontrollably. She vowed to do things like this more often; children grew up so fast. If she wasn’t careful, she would miss the little girl’s entire childhood.

She had just finished washing the frosting off of Kimber’s face when Fran walked into the kitchen. “My, what smells so delicious?”

“I made supper. I hope you don’t mind. You’ve had such a long day; I thought it would be one thing you wouldn’t have to deal with.” She watched Fran look from the pot of soup bubbling on the stove to the desserts lined up on the counter. Tears welled in the woman’s eyes and Monica was afraid she’d overstepped. She started to apologize when Fran rushed over and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, dear. You are so thoughtful. I’m so glad you’re here.”

It’s been so long; too long
. Monica hugged her back, fighting her own tears that threatened to fall. She’d never given much thought to the fact that she had no adult relationships in her personal life; she’d always just accepted it. But being around these people triggered a longing in her that she’d kept buried since her parents died. Feeling this woman’s arms around her elicited emotions she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“What’s going on in here? Someone die?”

“Oh, Bill!” Fran admonished, releasing Monica and wiping her eyes. “She made supper for us. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

“Nice indeed,” Bill winked, shuffling over to the stove to investigate. Lifting the lid on the soup, he inhaled deeply. “Ahhh…smells delish.”

Fran and Monica started laughing at his choice of word.

“What?” he asked. “The grandkids keep me up-to-date on today’s vernacular.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Monica walked over and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Are you feeling better?”

“Fine and dandy. Don’t really know what all of the fuss was about. Just needed some rest, is all.”

“You know very well what the fuss was about, William,” Fran scolded lovingly. “Now scoot so that we can get supper on the table. Why don’t you take Kimber in the other room with you?”

“Come on, kiddo,” he said, holding out his hand to the child. “Let’s go see what sort of mischief we can get into.” The pair walked into the living room, the ever faithful Leroy trailing behind. A moment later, the unmistakable sounds of a ‘wascally wabbit’ drifted into the kitchen.

“You’ve done such a fine job with Kimber,” Fran commented as she set the table, neatly arranging spoons by the bowls. “Does she ask about her father much?”

Caught off guard, Monica turned, ladle in hand, from where she was filling a soup tureen. Chowder dripped onto the floor making wet splotches on the white tile. Noticing the mess, she hurriedly replaced the spoon in the pot, and grabbed some paper towels to clean up her spill.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, you didn’t.” She threw the towels away and washed her hands, using the distraction to gather her thoughts. The truth was, Kimber didn’t miss her father at all. Phillip had rarely spent any time with her, and when he had, he’d acted like she was a bother. The little girl had picked up on his mood and kept her distance. Sadly, no bond had formed between them and she hadn’t even questioned when he was no longer in their lives. Not wanting her daughter to overhear, she answered in a low voice. “She doesn’t. Phillip never wanted her. He considered her to be a burden even before she was born. He tolerated her because he had to but to be honest, she was closer to the apartment manager than to him. I’ve always felt like a terrible mother for not choosing a better man to be her father.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Fran said, taking her hands. “He’s the one losing out. Why, that little girl in there is a joy to be around and if he can’t see that then he’s an ass!”

Monica burst out laughing. Though she’d always thought it, she’d never quite heard it put so bluntly, especially not by such a kindly woman. “I’ve frequently thought so.”

Waving her hand in the air, Fran remarked, “She’s better off without him. She deserves to be around people who love and cherish her. You both do.” Giving her a knowing look, the woman went back to setting the table.

Wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind her words, deciding that she’d rather not think about it, Monica began mixing the biscuits, plopping dough onto a baking sheet. Sliding it into the oven, she set the timer for ten minutes then left the kitchen to freshen up, never noticing the figure standing outside of the French doors.

“Joseph, my, you startled me,” Fran exclaimed as he walked in from the porch. “I never heard you drive up.”

“Yeah, I’m sneaky that way.” Leaning over, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How’re you doing, Mom? How’s Dad?”

“We’re both doing fine. Very well rested after our nap. Did you see what Monica did? She made supper and dessert and…what is it?”

“What’s what?” he asked, stepping over to the sink to wash his hands though he’d already showered at his apartment.

“I know that look; I’ve seen it before.” She studied her son’s face. “You heard our conversation, didn’t you? About her ex-husband?”

“I think the biscuits are ready,” he replied evasively.

“Don’t change the subject. Any fool with eyes can see that you like her. Keep in mind that she’s not staying. As soon as her car’s fixed, she’ll be on her way. I remember what you were like with Hayley. I’d hate to see you go through that again.”

“Monica is not Hayley. I’m a big boy, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope so. No matter how old you are, I’m still your mother. I love you and it breaks my heart to see you hurting. Now take those biscuits out of the oven before they burn.”

Laughing at her abrupt change in conversation, he grabbed a potholder and pulled the baking sheet out, placing it on top of the stove. The biscuits were golden brown and smelled delicious. He couldn’t resist breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth, the tiny morsel bursting with flavor. Piling the rest of them into a cloth lined basket, he carried it over to the table as Monica walked in with Kimber, each with an arm looped through one of Bill’s. Leroy pranced around the trio, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and wagging his stub tail.

“Hello,” Monica said, smiling at Joe. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

“I did,” he answered simply, his eyes drinking her in. She was wearing a floral sundress that buttoned up the front, modest yet alluring. Her hair fell in soft waves to her bare shoulders, the ends brushing against her smooth skin. Strappy sandals covered her feet and accentuated her slim legs. He returned her smile.

“Thank you for leaving Leroy here earlier. Kimber enjoys playing with him.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked over at the girl who had already claimed a seat at the table. “Leroy told me he likes playing with you, too.”

“He did not!” she protested, giggling at his words. “Doggies can’t talk.”

“Leroy can,” Joe assured her. “He’s a special doggie.”

“Grandpa Bill, can Leroy really talk?” It only made sense to ask the man who seemed to know everything.

“Well, dumplin’, I think my boy Joe, here, might be pulling your leg,” he answered solemnly.

“Don’t let him do that, Grandpa. It’ll hurt!” The adults laughed as Kimber looked confusedly from one to another. Finally Monica explained that Joe wasn’t really going to pull her leg and Bill was only teasing. Frowning, she gave her mother’s explanation some thought then said, “Okay but I still don’t think that Leroy can talk.”

“A very wise child you’ve got there,” Bill said with a wink. “Must take after her mother.”

“I don’t know about that,” Monica replied, brushing off the compliment. “I do know that supper is getting cold. Why don’t we all take a seat?”

Complying with her request, they moved to the table, Joe making sure to sit in the chair directly across from her. He grinned as their eyes met, his heart beating hard in his chest. Despite his mother’s earlier caution, he knew he could get used to this view every day for the rest of his life.

“Everything looks delicious, dear,” Fran remarked, passing bowls of chowder around the table.

“Thank you. I hope you like it. It’s a recipe my grandmother taught me.”

“Oh? Where does she live?”

“She’s passed away now but she and my grandfather lived in Wisconsin all their life. I used to spend my summers at their farm when I was a girl. Your home reminds me so much of theirs,” Monica responded wistfully.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Does your grandfather still live there?”

“No, he’s gone, too. As are my parents. It’s just Kimber and me,” she said, looking affectionately at her daughter.

“Well, you can consider us your surrogate parents,” Bill declared. “Anything you need, any time, you call on us.”

Touched by his offer, she reached over and patted his hand, tears shimmering in her eyes. About to comment, she was preempted by a woman’s voice.

“Replace me already, Dad?”

‡
Chapter Six

“Kathy!” Fran rose from the table and threw her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly. No sooner did she release her than Bill caught her in his arms, giving her a squeeze. She looked at her brother. “What, you’re too macho to hug your sister?”

“Just waiting for an opening,” he teased, lifting her up in a bear hug and spinning her around.

“Put me down, you big galoot!” she protested, laughing at the same time. Once back on solid ground, she gave him the once-over. “You’re looking good, bro. Life must be treating you well.” Stooping to give Leroy a belly rub, she kept her eye on her brother, wondering if the woman still seated at the table was the reason behind his relaxed demeanor. “I’m Kathy Sullivan. And you are?”

“Monica Russo,” she said, rising from her chair. Coming around the table, she studied Joe’s sister, looking for similarities between them and finding none. Where his hair was light brown and curly, hers was jet black and straight as a pin. His warm brown eyes were a sharp contrast to her ice-blue ones.

“Nice to meet you. So tell me, what do you want from my family?” Though she asked with a smile, Kathy’s protectiveness could be felt by everyone in the room.

“You’ll have to forgive my sister,” Joe explained, draping an arm over his sibling’s shoulder. “She’s yet to learn what manners are.”

Kathy stuck her tongue out at him. “Is it wrong to be wary of a complete stranger? You read about it every day; how someone worms their way into an unsuspecting family’s life and the next thing you know, they’ve been robbed or worse yet, murdered.” She leveled a stare at her intended target.

“Kathleen! I will not listen to you speak about Monica that way! Why, she has been nothing but helpful since she arrived,” Fran scolded. “Apologize to our guest right this minute!”