Right Next Door (23 page)

Carol glanced over her shoulder and groaned inwardly. She was about to be serenaded with music that came with words she found practically impossible to understand. Although maybe that was a blessing…

“Just a minute,” Peter yelled and started running toward the kitchen.

That was funny. Carol hadn't even heard the phone ring. Ignoring her son, she knelt down, wiping her wrist under her nose. The heat was already making her perspire. Bending forward, she dug with the trowel, cultivating the soil and clearing away a winter's accumulation of weeds.

“Morning.”

At the sound of Alex's voice, Carol twisted around to confront him. “Alex,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

He joined her, kneeling beside her on the lush, green grass. His eyes were as eager as if it had been weeks since he'd seen her instead of a few hours.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded again, digging more vigorously than necessary. She didn't want to have this conversation. It was too soon. She hadn't fully recovered from their last encounter and was already facing another one.

“I couldn't stay away,” he said, his voice harsh and husky at once, and tinged with a hint of anger as if the lack of control bothered him. “You were upset last night, and we both ignored it instead of talking about it the way we should have.”

“You were imagining things,” she said, offering him a false smile.

“No, I wasn't. I felt guilty, too.”

“Guilty?” she cried. “Whatever for?”

“Because I told you about Gloria and didn't ask about your husband. It would've been the perfect time for you to tell me.”

Carol's stomach lurched. “That was a long time ago…and best forgotten.”

“But you loved him and were saddened by his death, and I should've realized that talking about Gloria would be especially painful for you. I should have been more sensitive.”

She shut her eyes. “There's no reason to feel guilty. You talked openly and honestly, and I appreciated knowing about your wife.”

“Maybe so,” Alex conceded, “but I frightened you, and now you're feeling confused.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth.” She continued to work, dragging the trowel through the damp soil.

Alex chuckled softly. He gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him as he scanned her features. “You shouldn't lie, Carol Sommars. Because you blush every time you do.”

“That's ridiculous.” As if on cue, she felt her cheeks grow pink. Carol groaned inwardly, furious with Alex and even more so with herself.

“No, it isn't ridiculous.” He paused, and his mouth quivered as he studied her. “You're doing it now.”

“Where are the boys?”

Alex's chuckle deepened. “Don't try changing the subject—it isn't going to work.”

“Alex, please.”

“Hey, Mom, you'll never guess what!”

Grateful for the distraction, Carol dragged her eyes away from Alex and turned to her son, who stood on the patio, looking exceptionally pleased.

“What is it, Peter?”

“James and Mr. Preston brought over one of those fancy, heavy-duty tillers. They're going to dig up that garden space you've been talking about for the past two summers.”

Carol's gaze flew back to Alex's, full of unspoken questions.

“You said something last night about wanting to grow an herb garden, didn't you?”

“Yes, but why…I mean, you don't have to do this.” She felt flustered and surprised and overwhelmed that he'd take a casual comment seriously and go out of his way to see that her wish was fulfilled.

“Of course I don't have to, but I want to. Peter and James and I are your willing servants, isn't that right, boys?” Neither bothered to answer, being far more interested in sorting through the CDs Peter had set out.

Two hours later, Carol had been delegated to the kitchen by all three men, who claimed she was a world-class nuisance.

“Mom,” Peter said, “do something constructive like make lunch. You're in the way here.”

Slightly taken aback by her son's assessment of her role, Carol muttered under her breath and did as he asked. Her ego suffered further when James sent his friend a grateful glance. Even Alex seemed pleased to have her out from under their capable feet.

Twenty minutes later, Alex entered the kitchen. He paused when he saw her stacking sandwiches on a platter. He walked over to her, slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

“Alex,” she protested in a fierce whisper, “the boys will see you.”

“So?”

“So, what they're thinking is bad enough without you adding fuel to the fire.”

“They're too busy to care.”

“I care!”

His growl was low as he slid his hand from her navel up her midriff. “I know.”

“If you don't stop I'll…I'll…I'm not sure what I'll do—but it won't be pleasant.” Her threat was an empty one, and Alex knew it as well as she did. She was trembling the way she always did when he touched her. The more intimate the caress, the more she shivered.

“I told the boys I was coming inside to pester you, and I'm nothing if not a man of my word,” Alex informed her, clearly relishing her shyness.

“Alex…”

“Don't say it,” he murmured. “I already know—this isn't the time or the place. I agree, but I don't have to like it.” Slowly and with great reluctance, he released her.

Carol was aware of every nuance of this man. He made the most innocent caress sweet with sensations. His touch only created a need for more. Much more.

Once he'd released her, Carol sighed with relief—or was it regret? She no longer had any idea. She carried the platter of sandwiches to the table and brought out a pitcher of fresh lemonade.

Alex pulled out a chair and sat down. “I like watching you move,” he whispered. “I like touching you even more.”

“Alex…please don't. You're making me blush.”

He laughed lightly. “I like that, too. Being with you makes me feel alive again. I hadn't realized how…desensitized I'd become to life. The first time we kissed I discovered what I'd been missing. All those arranged dates, all those wasted evenings—and all that time you were right under my nose and I didn't even know it.”

“I…I think I'll put out two kinds of chips,” Carol said, completely unsettled by the way he spoke so openly, so frankly.

“You're beautiful.” His eyes were dark, filled with the promise of things to come. “So beautiful…”

“Alex, please.” She leaned against the counter, overwhelmed by his words.

“I can't help it. I feel as though I've been granted a second chance at life. Tell me I'm not behaving like an idiot. Tell me you feel it, too.”

She did feel everything he did, more profoundly than she dared let him know. “We've both been alone too long,”
she said. “People in situations like ours must think these kinds of thoughts all the time.”

Her comment didn't please him. He frowned and slowly stood. “You may find this difficult to believe, Carol, but there hasn't been anyone since Gloria who made me feel the things you do. And trust me, there've been plenty who tried.”

Gulping, Carol whirled around and made busy work opening a bag of potato chips.

Alex joined her, leaning against the counter and facing her so she couldn't ignore him. “You, on the other hand, don't even need to touch me to make me respond. You might not want to admit it, but it's the same for you.”

“When you decide to pester someone, you don't do it by half measures, do you?” she muttered.

“Admit it, Carol.”

“I…”

He slid his lips across hers. “Are you ready to admit it yet?”

“No, I—”

He bent forward and kissed her again.

Carol's knees buckled and she swayed toward him.

Alex instantly reached for her. Without question, without protest, Carol fell into his arms, so hungry for his touch, she felt as if she were on fire.

The sound of someone clearing his throat was followed by, “Hey, we're not interrupting anything, are we?” Peter was standing just inside the kitchen. “In case you two haven't noticed, it's lunchtime.”

A
lex pressed one knee down on the green and stretched out his putter, judging the distance to the hole with a sharp eye. He'd been playing golf with Barney every Sunday afternoon for years.

“So when do I get to meet this female dynamo?” Barney asked after Alex had successfully completed the shot.

“I don't know yet,” Alex said as he retrieved his golf ball. He inserted the putter back inside his bag before striding toward the cart.

“What do you mean, you don't know?” Barney echoed. “What's with you and this woman? I swear you've been a different man since you met her. You stare off into space with this goofy look on your face. I talk to you and you don't hear me, and when I ask you about her, you get defensive.”

“I'm not defensive, I'm in love.”

“Alex, buddy, listen to the voice of experience. You're not in love, you're in lust. I recognize that gleam in your
eye. Ten to one you haven't slept with her yet. So I recommend that you get her in the sack and be done with it before you end up doing something foolish.”

Alex's gaze fired briefly as he looked at his friend. How did Barney know the progress of his relationship with Carol?

“I have every intention of sleeping with her. Only I plan to be doing that every night for the rest of my life. Carol's not the type of woman to have a fling, and I refuse to insult her by suggesting one.”

Barney stared at Alex as if seeing him for the first time. “I don't think I ever realized what an old-fashioned guy you are. Apparently you haven't noticed, but the world's become a lot more casual. Our clothes are casual, our conversations are casual and yes, even our sex is casual. In case you hadn't heard, you don't have to marry a woman to take her to bed.”

“Continue in this vein,” Alex said, “and you're going to become a casual friend.”

Barney rolled his eyes dramatically. “See what I mean?”

If three wives hadn't been able to change Barney's attitude, Alex doubted he could, either. “As I recall, the last time we had this conversation,” Alex reminded him, “you said settling down was the thing to do. I'm only following your advice.”

“But not yet,” Barney said. “You haven't played the field enough. There are riches out there—” he gestured with his hands “—female gold nuggets just waiting to be picked up, then set gently back in place for the next treasure-hunter.”

“You mean like Bambi and what was the name of the other one? Barbie?”

“Stop being clever,” Barney snickered. “I have your best interests at heart, and frankly I'm concerned. Two years after Gloria's gone, you suddenly announce it's time to start dating again. Man, I was jumping up and down for joy. Then you go out with a grand total of ten different women—most of them only once—and calmly inform me you've met
the one.
You plan to marry her, just like that, and you haven't even slept with her yet. How are you going to find out if you're sexually compatible?”

“We're compatible, trust me.”

“You may think so now, but
bingo
, once she's got a wedding band, it's a totally different story.”

“Stop worrying, would you?” Alex eased his golf cart into his assigned space. From the day he'd decided to look for another wife, Barney had been a constant source of amusement. The problem was, his most hilarious moments had come in the form of women his friend had insisted he meet.

“But, Alex, I
am
worried about you,” Barney muttered as he lifted his clubs from the back of the cart. “You don't know women the way I do. They're scheming, conniving, money-hungry, and how they get their clutches into you is by marriage. Don't be so eager to march up the aisle with Carol. I don't want you to go through what I have.”

After three wives, three divorces and child support payments for two separate families, Barney was speaking from experience—of a particularly negative sort.

“Gloria was special,” his longtime friend said. “You're not going to find another one like her. So if it's those qualities that attract you to Carol, look again. You may only be seeing what you want to see.”

 

“You wanna yell?” Angelina Pasquale shouted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room where her grandchildren were squabbling. “Then let's have a contest. But remember—I've been doing it longer. They can hear me all the way in Jersey City.”

Peter and his younger cousins ceased their shouting match, and with a nod of her head, Angelina returned to the kitchen, satisfied that a single threat from her was enough to bring about peace that would last through the afternoon.

Carol was busy slicing tomatoes for the salad, and her sister-in-law, Paula, was spreading garlic butter on thick slices of French bread.

The sauce was warming on the stove, and the water for the long strands of fresh pasta was just starting to boil. The pungent scent of basil and thyme circled the kitchen like smoke from a campfire. From Carol's earliest memory, her mother had cooked a pot of spaghetti sauce every Saturday evening. The unused portion from Sunday's dinner was served in a variety of ways during the week. Leftover pot roast became something delectable with her mother's sauce over top. And chicken with Mama's sauce rivaled even the Cajun chicken at Jake's restaurant.

“So, Carol,” her mother began, wiping her hands on the ever-present apron. She took a large wooden spoon and stirred the kettle of simmering sauce. “I suppose your English friend thinks good spaghetti sauce comes from a jar,” she said disparagingly. This was her way of letting Carol know the time had come to invite Alex and his son to Sunday dinner.

“Mama, Alex plays golf on Sundays.”

“Every Sunday?”

Carol nodded.

“That's because he's never tasted my sauce.” Angelina shook her head as though to suggest Alex had wasted much of his life walking from green to green when he could've been having dinner at her house.

Adding serving utensils to the salad, Carol set the wooden bowl on the dining room table.

Tony, Carol's brother, sauntered into the kitchen and slipped his arms around Paula's waist. “How much longer until dinner? The natives are getting restless.”

“Eleven minutes,” Angelina answered promptly. She tasted the end of the wooden spoon and nodded in approval.

Carol returned to the kitchen and noticed that her mother was watching her under the guise of waiting for the water to boil. The question Carol had expected all day finally came.

“You gonna marry this non-Italian?” her mother asked, then added the noodles, stirring with enough energy to create a whirlpool in the large stainless-steel pot.

“Mama,” Carol cried. “I barely know Alex. We've only gone out a handful of times.”

“Ah, but your eyes are telling me something different.”

“The only thing my eyes are interested in is some of that garlic bread Paula's making,” Carol said, hoping to divert her mother's attention from the subject of Alex.

“Here.” Her sister-in-law handed her a slice. “But it's no substitute for a man.” Paula turned her head to press a quick kiss on her husband's cheek.

Tony's hands slipped further around Paula's waist as he whispered in his wife's ear. From the way her sister-in-
law's face flooded with warm color, Carol didn't need much of an imagination to guess what Tony had said.

Carol looked away. She wasn't embarrassed by the earthy exchange between her brother and his wife; instead, she felt a peculiar twinge of envy. The realization shocked her. In all the years she'd been alone, Carol had never once longed for a pair of arms to hold her or for a man to whisper suggestive comments in her ear. Those intimacies were reserved for the happily married members of her family.

Yet, here she was, standing in the middle of her mother's kitchen, yearning for Alex to stroll up behind her, circle her waist and whisper promises in her ear. The image was so vivid that she hurried into the living room to escape it.

It wasn't until later, when the dishes were washed, that Carol had a chance to sort through her thoughts. Tony and Peter were puttering around in the garage. Paula was playing a game of Yahtzee with the younger children. And Angelina was rocking in her chair, nimble fingers working delicate yarn into a sweater for her smallest grandchild.

“So are you gonna tell your mama what's troubling you?” she asked Carol out of the blue.

“Nothing's wrong,” Carol fibbed. She couldn't discuss what she didn't understand. For the first time, she felt distanced from the love and laughter that was so much a part of Sunday dinner with her family. For years she'd clung to the life she'd built for herself and her son. These few, short weeks with Alex had changed everything.

Alex had discovered all her weaknesses and used them to his own advantage. Digging up the earth for her herb garden was a good example. She could've asked her brother to do it for her. Eventually she probably would
have. But Tony did so much to help her already that she didn't want to burden him with another request. It wasn't as if tilling part of the backyard was essential. But one casual mention to Alex, and next thing she knew, there was freshly tilled earth waiting for basil and Italian parsley where before there'd been lawn.

“You like this man, don't you?”

Carol responded with a tiny nod of her head.

A slow, easy smile rose from her mother's mouth to her eyes. “I thought so. You got the look.”

“The look?”

“Of a woman falling in love. Don't fight it so hard, my
bambina.
It's time you met a man who brings color to your cheeks and a smile to your lips.”

But Carol wasn't smiling. She felt confused and ambivalent. She was crazy about Alex; she prayed she'd never see him again. She couldn't picture her life with him; she couldn't picture her life without him.

“I lit a candle in church for you,” her mother whispered. “And said a special prayer to St. Rita.”

“Mama…”

“God and I had a good talk, and He told me it's predestined.”

“What's predestined?”

“You and this non-Italian,” her mother replied calmly.

“Mama, that doesn't make the least bit of sense. For years you've been telling me to marry a rich old man with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. You said everyone loves a rich widow.”

“Keep looking for the rich old man, but when you find him, introduce him to me. With any luck his first wife
made spaghetti sauce with tomato soup and he'll worship at my feet.”

Carol couldn't keep from smiling. She wasn't so sure about her mother lighting candles on her behalf or deciding that marrying Alex was predestined, but from experience she'd learned there wasn't any point in arguing.

Tony, Paula and their two children left around five. Usually Carol headed for home around the same time, but this afternoon she lingered. The 1940s war movie on television held Peter's attention, and her eyes drifted to it now and again.

It wasn't until she felt the moisture on her cheeks that she realized she was crying.

Doing what she could to wipe away the tears so as not to attract attention to herself, she focused on the television screen. Her mother was right; she was falling in love, head over heels in love, and it was frightening her to death.

Silently Angelina set her knitting aside and joined Carol on the sofa. Without a word, she thrust a tissue into Carol's hand. Then she wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders and pressed her head tenderly to her generous bosom. Gently patting Carol's back, Angelina whispered soothing words of love and encouragement in a language Carol could only partially understand.

 

Alex didn't see Carol again until Monday afternoon when he pulled into the high school parking lot. He angled his van in front of the track, four spaces down from her car. He waited a couple of minutes, hoping she'd come and see him of her own free will. He should've known better. The woman wasn't willing to give an inch.

Deciding to act just as nonchalant, Alex opened his
door, walked over to the six-foot-high chain-link fence and pretended to be watching the various groups participate in field events. Neither James nor Peter was trying out for any of those positions on the team.

Then he walked casually toward Carol, who was determined, it seemed, to ignore him, hiding behind the pages of a women's magazine.

“Hello, Carol,” he said after a decent interval.

“Oh—Alex.” She held the magazine rigidly in place.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” The hesitation was long enough to imply that she would indeed mind. Regardless, he opened the passenger door and slid inside her car. Only then did Carol bother to close the magazine and set it down.

By now, Alex told himself, he should be accustomed to her aloof attitude toward him. It was like this nearly every time they were together. She'd never shown any real pleasure at seeing him. He had to break through those chilly barriers each and every encounter. The strangest part was that he knew she was as strongly attracted to him as he was to her. And not just in the physical sense. Their lives were like matching bookends, he thought.