Coming Home to Love (Lakeside Porch Series Book 2) (21 page)

He stroked her hair. “It warms my heart to think of that.”

“You’ve really come home, haven’t you, Justin Cushman?”

He nodded. “I’m working on it.”

“I think you already know what kind of house you want.”

Instead of answering, Justin drew her to him, fisted her hair and kissed her hard. Gianessa welcomed the embrace. He plundered her mouth. She felt his heart pounding, even through the layers of their clothing. When he released her, her cheeks were on fire and her eyes danced with happiness.

“You take my breath away, Justin.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “If the house weren’t forty degrees, we could find a bed for ourselves.”

“Brrr. Let’s check out the antiques and tromp back to Lakeside Terrace for hot cocoa and hot sex.”

“Let’s.”

“Ten weeks or twelve to the wedding?” Gianessa asked Joel. “I’ve lost track.”

“Ten and a few days. I’d like to stand for the ceremony. Maybe hold Manda for a slow dance, pretend we’re moving on the floor.” He grinned at the thought.

“You’re on track for that. I don’t want you overdoing it between now and then.”

“Do you think I’m overdoing it?”

“I think you’re feisty.” She teased and then sobered. “That tells me you’re impatient, and that worries me.”

“So you’re saying I could overdo it and it would push me backwards?”

“Exactly. You’ve had two serious leg injuries in the past. Each has taken a toll. This accident compounded the damage. And you’re not a teenager this time. Bodies heal slower at thirty than at fifteen.”

Joel pulled himself up the steps from the pool, grabbing the railing with his good left arm. He took the towel she handed him and sat on a teakwood stool she’d placed by the steps. “So it was completely unrealistic to think Manda and I could go to Ireland on our honeymoon?”

“Only if you were content to go in a wheelchair.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully as he rubbed his legs dry. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s not how I want to do it. I want to hike with Manda on a country lane and brace myself against the wind on top of a rocky cliff and maybe climb a hill together.”

Gianessa handed him a bottle of water. “Do you use those images in your meditation?”

Joel nodded.

“You’re on target to do the lane and the cliff top in a year or so. Maybe the hill, too, if you pick a gentle one.”

“Manda will finish her degree a year from May and sit her CPA exam that summer. So fall next year might work for us?”

“Sounds just right, Joel.”

Joel reached for her hand, and she squatted down beside him.

“What is it?”

“You’re gifted. And skilled. I want you to go after your physical therapy license from New York State.”

Gianessa’s eyes went wide with fear. She dropped down on her butt in a puddle of pool water and hugged her knees.

Joel pressed her. “It may take a couple of rounds, and it may be uncomfortable, which is why you should start now. The holistic rehab center you create with Manda and Justin will require a licensed therapist in the lead. Obviously that’s you.”

“Joel I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I don’t buy that. Get online and research it, like anything else. And network. The docs in Rochester will support you. I’ll support you. But you have to do the footwork.”

“Scares me to death, you know?”

Joel chose a dry towel from the stack on a cart to his left and wrapped himself in it. “There’s a reason one whole line of the Serenity Prayer is ‘Courage to change the things I can.’”

Gianessa nodded slowly, not in agreement, he sensed, but in thoughtful consideration.

“You should ask Tony to introduce you to his girl, Sunny. She’s in the program and is finishing her Doctor of Physical Therapy, same degree as yours. She could be a sounding board and might introduce you to a few good people.” He nudged her knee with his elbow. “She’d probably appreciate your support with her exams and boards and whatever else she has to do this year.”

Gianessa lifted her smiling face to Joel. “I’ve been scared and selfish, and you’re a genius.”

He sat up straighter.

She quizzed, “So, boss, how are you handling all the stresses in your life these days?”

Joel let out his breath in a laugh. “It’s a challenge living with Manda in close quarters like this, especially since I can’t get out much. It helps that the weather’s improving. And Phil and Tony bring meetings here.”

“I’d like you to get out some. If you don’t want to be seen in the chair, put it in the car as a backup and take your walker with you.”

Joel grinned. “Busted. I’ve also been scared and selfish. When will I be ready for the cane?”

Gianessa eyed the mahogany cane with the ebony handle Justin had brought back from New York on one of his trips. He’d had it made to the specifications Gianessa provided.

Joel had hung the cane from one of the cabinet door pulls as an incentive.

“It’s really very classy,” Gianessa said. “A few weeks, probably. Getting out now with the walker will help your recovery in several ways, you know. And people will be thrilled to see you out and about.”

“You don’t think I look scruffy and weak?”

“I think you need a haircut and a really classy pair of pants that will slide over your knee brace.”

Joel paused in his effort to fasten the brace. His eyes bored into hers, and he challenged, “So, you want to go shopping with me?”

She winked. “Now you’re talking. I’ll see if Sara will come over first to cut your hair. What do you think?”

Joel reached for his chair and maneuvered it closer. “Give her a call. I’ll get dressed. Then we’ll swing by your place for dry bottoms for you,” he teased.

She gave his arm a playful swat as he wheeled by.

“Bridey would love this scene.” Justin hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until Gianessa tapped her cards on the table and cocked her head.

“I know who she is, don’t tell me. Your grandmother.”

“Bridey was Joel’s grandmother, on his mother’s side.”

“She came from Ireland?”

Justin beamed. “She did, and she loved romance.”

“And read the tea leaves, right?”

“She was a fey one,” he answered with a nod.

“What do you mean?”

“She could see the future.”

Gianessa’s eyes opened wide. “Do you believe that?”

“I’m beginning to.”

“Tell me what she saw in your tea leaves.”

Justin straightened the haphazard pile of winning tricks in front of him.
Why did I bring this up?

“Spill, Justin.”

“Spill?”

“Spill. It’s the short form of spill the beans.”

“Suppose I don’t want to spill?”

“Why did you bring it up?”

“I think you brought it up.”

“Because you brought it up, and, you’re right, it’s a romantic scene we’ve got going here.” She gestured to the kitchen, the table, and the porch as she talked. “Irish stew simmering on the stove. The two of us warm and cozy playing honeymoon bridge, wind rattling the porch doors and rain hitting the panes. And Bridey popped into your mind, because she would love what’s going on here this St. Patrick’s Saturday.”

Justin chuckled. “You win. What Bridey saw in my tea leaves is a bit of a mystery to me. She told me, ‘At the center of the storm is a stillpoint, and that’s where your heart is.’”

Gianessa sat back, put down her cards and contemplated. “You left the storm behind when you came back here, I thought. Or was home a stormy place for you at one time?”

“Both, I think. My life’s been stormy wherever I’ve been. I don’t want that anymore. The high stakes, the drama, the glitz, the over-the-top lifestyle.”

“She said the stillpoint is at the center of the storm. Maybe you can’t just turn your back to the storm. Maybe you have to confront it to make peace with it.”

“I never thought of that.”

“Have you found a stillpoint?”

“I believe so.” Justin held her gaze.

“And at that stillpoint, is your heart present?”

Justin saw no mocking in her face, no pretense, simply peace and happiness. “Yes, it is. What about your heart, Gianessa? Is it here, too?”

She blinked and smiled into his eyes. “Yes.”

Justin watched as a slow, sexy smile appeared.

He sensed a twinkle in his own eye. “If we finish out this hand, you’ll win.”

“And if we don’t finish it out, you’ll win by default.” She picked up her hand again. “That’s not happening. I’m going to trounce you, Justin Cushman.” She wiggled back in her chair. “I’m playing four hearts, and I’m two tricks away from trouncing you.”

He sat back and assumed a casual pose. “We should play together, with other people. There are some friendly games, I’m told, among some of the college people.” He led the eight of clubs from his hand.

“I would like a friendly game with you as my partner,” Gianessa said as she scooped up the trick with her queen. “Wouldn’t you prefer something more cutthroat?” She led off the last trick with her king of hearts.

Justin set his two of spades on the table and let her collect the trick. “No. I’d prefer to play with you and to make it a friendly evening with a few others.”

He watched her shuffle the deck. A smile spread over her face.

When she met his gaze, her eyes were a warm, smoky violet. “I’d like that. Let’s do it, Justin.”

“So a frittata starts like an omelet, but instead of folding it over, you pop it in the oven?”

Gianessa nodded. “Basically, that’s it.” She was in teacher mode this morning, the last Sunday of March. She stood across the island from him, observing and coaching him step by step.

“And you had me whisk it more than an omelet. Will that make it puffier?” He struggled to understand why the frittata was on the menu instead of their favorite omelets.

“Exactly, and remember, for an omelet we would have let the egg set up a bit before adding the toppings; for the frittata, we sautéed our favorite add-ons right in the skillet then poured in the egg.”

Justin shifted his weight and puzzled, “But we set aside the avocado and cheese.”

“We’ll wait until it’s set a bit to add those kind of toppings. You’re a quick study, Justin. Of course some people sprinkle the cheese on just before it sets up and then switch on the broiler to give it a golden, crispy top.”

“Do you?”

“Me? I keep it simple. No crispy top.”

He leaned against the counter and looked her in the eye with a knowing smile. “You’re teaching me the frittata so I can save face, aren’t you?”

Gianessa blushed. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, if someone, not saying me, is really bad at letting the egg run under to set an omelet or really clumsy at folding . . .”

“Or both.” Her musical laugh brightened the rainy April morning.

Justin grinned. “You are busted.” He stretched across the island and gave her a kiss. “This could become my signature breakfast dish. No more broken, lopsided omelets.”

“Yes, it could. I would like that.”

They watched as the surface of the egg mixture began to congeal.

“Is it ready for the oven?”

“Ready. See, you have good judgment, Justin.”

He muscled the skillet into the hot oven. “How long?” He shut the oven door.

“About five minutes, but you really have to watch it.”

He set the oven timer and rested his oven mitts on the island.

Gianessa asked, “I enjoyed the bridge with your friends last night. How do you think it went?”

“I think you were a hit. They’d like to do it again.”

“Would you?”

He nodded, studying her face. She was the picture of serenity, he decided. Content, untroubled, looking forward to the next step and enjoying the present.

“I’ll get the table ready,” he offered.

She flashed a smile, gathered the bowls and utensils, and carried them to the sink where a dishpan of sudsy water waited.

As he set out plates and mugs next to dishes of fruit, Justin watched her work and wondered if she felt, as he sometimes did, that they were in a holding pattern. Not just the five minutes while the frittata set up, but in their relationship. She seemed content, as he was, with their Saturday night sleepovers, hot sex, Sunday cooking dates, and long walks whenever the weather let them venture out. Yet he wondered how long that would satisfy her.

Knowing how deeply her heart was broken by the loss of her little girl, he thought she must want to marry and have more children. Perhaps he should step aside and let her find a younger man eager to have a family with her. But part of him wished he could step into that role himself. Why did he feel so unsettled in himself and so unsuitable as a long-term partner for this beautiful, captivating woman?

“You’re really tense, Justin,” Gianessa observed.

Do I dare say what’s on my mind?

The timer spared him. He bounded back to the oven, reached for the mitts, opened the door a crack and saw that the egg was not quite set. He switched on the oven light, closed the door, and squatted down to watch the progress.

The frittata was “delicious” according to Gianessa. He agreed.

The massage she gave him after their meal to ease his tension was “divine” in his words.

His clumsy effort to give her a massage led to playful sex that ended abruptly when Gianessa pushed at his chest and said, “No, stop. Stop, Justin. It hurts.”

He sat back in alarm. “What’s happened?”

She curled on her side, and he covered her with a throw from the foot of the bed.

“How can I help? What do you need?”