After All These Years (18 page)

Cal sat on a wet park bench in the town square, across the street from the pharmacy. As the upstairs lights went off, he slid from the seat and headed down Fourth Avenue. He'd walk past the other shops and the post office, circle round into the alley, and pray that God would fill the block with extra guardian angels tonight. His two favorite women slept here.

Whoops. Make that two of his
three
favorites.

Lia locked the pharmacy's front door and twisted shut the blinds over its window. It was closing time, Friday night. “Chloe, you did a fantastic job!”

The little girl smiled as she wiped a dust cloth over the wooden countertop. “It's fun working in the store. I like the cash register the best. Can I have a raise?”

She laughed. “You've only been at it for three days!”

The front door knob rattled, and then someone knocked. Lia felt the immediate tightening in her stomach. At least she wasn't literally jumping anymore. She peeked through the blinds. It was Cal. Though she hadn't seen him since Sunday night, he had called every evening to check on her. There had been no more harassment.

She opened the door. “Well, I suppose I can let our neighborhood cop in after hours.”

“Sorry.” He stepped inside, Isabel's kitten climbing across his brown uniform-covered shoulders. “I tried to get here before six. Isabel asked me to deliver her cat. She said you didn't mind keeping it for two nights.”

Chloe squealed and hurried over. “Don't let her fall!”

He grasped the kitten and handed her down to Chloe as if she were a dirty diaper.

“Be careful!” she ordered.

“Cats are pretty good at taking care of themselves.”

Chloe frowned as she turned and headed down the aisle. “I'll take her upstairs to play with Soot.”

“Sweetpea, will you bring down the pie for Cal?”

Her niece continued toward the back room, whispering to the kitten.

“Chloe!”

“Yeah!” she yelled.

Lia stuck her hands in her lab coat. What had happened to her chipper little employee?

“Pie?”

She looked up at Cal. “Mm-hmm. Banana cream okay?”

His eyes widened. “More than okay. But, about dinner tomorrow night…”

An awkward moment passed between them. “Cal, I know. Dot told me today that you all won't be coming, that Tammy doesn't like Chinese food.”
Not that I was going to make Chinese.
“But I already had the pie made.” She attempted a smile.
Just be gracious. It's not his fault.
“I like to bake.”

“Tammy and I have this, uh, understanding. Um…”

Lia balled her hands into fists. He was a big boy. Let him explain it. It had been silly coming from Dot, embarrassing even.

“Um, we sort of have a standing dinner date on Saturday nights.”

“Of course. I shouldn't have imposed.”

His face reddened.

Well, it's not my fault your girlfriend and her mother are superficial racists.
“It looks like you're dressed for work tonight.”

“Yeah, I usually put in a few extra hours at the home football games before my shift. Hey, you and Chloe could come. It doesn't matter if you don't like football. It's kind of a town social gathering.”

“I like football fine, but…” Without warning, tears sprang to her eyes. She turned to the counter and began straightening things that didn't need straightening. If the social gathering was made up of a bunch of Dots and
Tammys, she wasn't about to go anywhere near it. She blinked rapidly. “I have some work to do.”

“Any phone calls or notes this week?”

She shook her head. “I'd better go hurry that pie along. Chloe probably got sidetracked playing with the cats.”

“I gotta go. I'm late already. Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She followed him to the door. “Thanks for bringing Nutmeg over. Bye.” Lia shut the door on his goodbye.

He pushed it back open. “I'm on duty tomorrow night, too. I'll drive by every half hour or so.”

“That'll be good. Thanks.” Again she shut the door, this time locking it.

She strode down the aisle, yanked off her lab coat, smacked the store's light switch, turned on the alarm system in the back room, and ran up the stairs. “Father,” she muttered, “I am sorry for calling Tammy and Dot names. Forgive me. And I'm feeling like such a victim, which is totally
asinine
!”

She found Chloe giggling on her bed with Soot and Nutmeg, all three rolling together.

“Chloe.”

Her niece sat up and smiled, her short black hair mussed.

“You were rude to Cal. What's wrong?”

The smile faded.

“Come on, sweetpea. I thought you liked him.”

“Banana cream's my favorite.”

“Oh!” She plunked herself down on the bed and threw an arm around Chloe. “I know that, which is why I made two pies. That's not it. 'Fess up now.”

“I don't know. He made me mad when he wouldn't take me to church.”

Lia thought that over. “Okay. That was rude after he said he would take you. At least Isabel gave you breakfast.”

“Tony was a good cook.”

“Cal's a cop. He would have given you a box of donuts.”

“I like Izzy's cookies better.”

Lia glanced at the ceiling. “Anyway, you still shouldn't have been rude back to him.”

“Well, why couldn't
he
take care of Nutmeg while Izzy's gone?”

What did that have to do with anything? “You want Nutmeg here, don't you?”

“Yeah, but can't Cal do
anything
?”

Lia sensed that Chloe's trust in Cal as a daddy figure had disintegrated. “Chlo, we have here a lesson in womanhood. I don't know if you're old enough, but it's never too early to hear it. Besides, I'll be repeating it through the years. Now listen closely. A man is not the answer to anything. You need a daddy and you've got one. His name is Jesus. I know you can't see or hear Him, but He's right here and He loves you. Cal's just a man. He's kind, and he's helped us a lot, but he's not perfect. Okay?”

Chloe was somber, a thoughtful look on her face. She stroked Soot. “Maybe I should see my real dad.”

Lia hugged her.
Oh, Lord, help! I'm just a woman here, imperfect and lonely!

“Tony, you spent too much.” Isabel watched him set an armload of shopping bags onto the bed in her hotel room.

He headed back toward the door she held open. “Izzy, if you say that one more time, I'm going to buy those diamond
earrings you just admired in the Cartier window downstairs.”

“Diamonds! I thought you were just a reporter.”

“Inheritance came in early,” he muttered.

Isabel bit her lip. Come to think of it, he probably would get all of his parents' money now that his sister… Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hey, keep that up and I'll shut your door and hang out the Do Not Disturb sign.” He briefly returned her hug before removing her arms from his neck.

“You won't close it. You promised.”

He grinned, his face inches from hers, those deep-set blue eyes fixed on her.

She sobered. “Tony, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Number one, you've brought me to Chicago—”

“Uh-uh. I challenged you to visit the real world.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And I said yes, of course, but a Saturday night awards dinner requires an overnight stay, not to mention a fancy,
fancy
dress, neither of which I can afford, especially this month considering I spent most of last month in Mexico, which, by the way, is the real world.”

“You're getting off track. To continue the scenario. Number two, I get a hotel room for you because I know you won't stay at my apartment. No big deal; I get it at a smidgen of the cost because I know people. Number three, I take you to Marshall Fields' sale of the century.”

She giggled. “Year.”

“And I buy a dress you look absolutely gorgeous in—ever mindful that it is 70 percent off the marked down price—for one reason only: pride.”

She gave him a quizzical look.

“My date has got to be the most beautiful and best-dressed woman in the room. That makes
me
look good.”

Isabel wagged a finger at him. “It's more than that, Tony Ward.”

He held out his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender.

“Number four,” she continued, “is I make you promise to be the quintessential gentleman and you
agree
? I don't buy that. What's in it for you?”

“You still don't think I have an altruistic bone in my body.”

“No,” she shot back, only half teasing now, “I don't. You're a reporter.”

He angled his head to one side, and she sensed his demeanor soften. “I'm making up for past sins.”

“You can't do that.”

“I know. Jesus already did. All I have to do is accept His gift.”

“Tony, you know the rhetoric—”

“Naturally. I just spent a week with Brady Olafsson. Not to mention my sister's preaching.”

“Why do you reject it so glibly?”

He shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. “Joanna died and Brady lives in Valley Oaks.”

“So they don't count, and the rest of us are a bunch of judgmental hypocrites?”

“Who don't get out enough. Izzy,” his voice grew husky and he scanned the room, “I just wanted to treat you.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. He was serious. “Really? Why?”

“Now who's asking all the questions?”

“Why?” she repeated, unable to halt the grin spreading across her face.

“Because you're a delightful young woman who deserves to be treated like a princess now and then.” He leaned toward her and placed a finger on her lips before she could
say anything. “No protests. No explanations. Just leave it. I'll pick you up at seven.”

She nodded and waved as he backed out the door, pulling it shut as he went.

Oh, Tony!
How could she explain that she
was
a princess? That God gave her indescribable treasures in sunrises, a baby nephew's laughter, a friend's hug, a song? Tony would say those were abstract and fleeting. True, and yet real treasures, she'd argue. But—but—

She twirled around the lush hotel room, past the ceiling-high picture window that overlooked the Chicago River and Marina Towers, and laughed aloud. “But— Oh, Lord! I can't remember when I've had such a down-to-earth, outrageously fun day!”

Isabel closed her eyes against the morning sun beating on her face. She and Tony sat on a park bench, sipping lattes from carry-out mugs with plastic lids. The thick Sunday
Tribune
lay between them, its sections still neatly folded in half. Tired from a late night, they had met a short time ago in her hotel lobby and then found a coffee shop on Michigan Avenue. Conversation didn't progress much beyond greetings and coffee decisions as they walked through the quiet streets to Grant Park.

“Tony, did I pass inspection?” She felt him turn toward her.

“How's that?”

“As a Christian hanging out in the real world of bigwig newspaper types at the most elegant dinner I've ever attended?”

“I think you know the answer to that, else you wouldn't have asked it. You passed with flying colors.”

She opened her eyes. “And how's that?”

“You seem to be getting the hang of this asking questions.” He scrunched down on the bench, leaned back and closed his eyes. “You made me look real good.”

She poked his arm.

He opened one eye briefly. “Okay, okay. I was impressed. You were yourself, Isabel Mendoza, confident, intelligent, blatantly full of integrity without being judgmental when conversations deteriorated into sewer subjects.”

“Ha! Showed you, Mr. Ward.” She closed her eyes again.

“You're gloating.”

“No, I'm not. I didn't do anything. Jesus Christ lives in me, and He likes people and parties.”

“He does?”

“See, you still don't know much. It's high time you read Brady's books if you're not going to crack open a Bible.”

After a few silent moments, Tony said, “You were the most beautiful woman cheering for me.”

She smiled.

“May I kiss you?”

She tapped her cheek.

“No, may I
kiss
you?”

It was as if everything shifted into low gear. Shocked by the sudden change, her heart felt erratic, her limbs like water. She sensed movement, Tony sitting up straight, turning toward her. She didn't budge.

“Nah, forget I said that, Iz. According to quintessential gentleman behavior, I promised not to.” He settled back down. “But you sure are beautiful.”

Thank You, Father,
she breathed. If Tony hadn't answered his own question, she would have said yes.