Tattered Innocence (28 page)

“Oh, isn’t this romantic,” Nikki sighed.
“Hurry up, Rachel, open it!”

Rachel slid the wilted bow off the flat box
with nervous fingers.

Inside lay a dainty silver charm
bracelet.

She held it up and touched a miniature
basketball. A Lilliputian sailboat dangled beside it.

“I had to look at every sailboat the guy
had, then six catalogues before I found a ketch.”

Her insides went soft like the night she
fell asleep against his heart. Like her birthday gift, this was
perfect. Rachel blinked back tears. She pinched a cooking pot
between two fingers as it swung back and forth on the chain. She
fingered a tiny man. “What’s this one for?”

“That’s me.” Jake grinned. “I didn’t want
you to forget me.”

“Fat chance.”

“The salesman said I’d be set for the
future—buy you a new charm for each kid, that kind of thing.”

Laughter erupted in the room, and she wiped
the shock off her face. Rachel shuddered. No way would she have
babies with a man who didn’t love her—not after watching Daddy live
without love for years.

“Who would have imagined that my big brother
would turn out to be such a romantic? Hey, Dillon, there’s hope for
you.” Nikki swatted her husband.

Dillon extracted an envelope from his back
pocket and thrust it at Nikki.

Nikki shot out of her seat as she tore it
open. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” She danced around the
room waving a picture of a house. “I love it!” She kissed him.

“It’s only got two bedrooms. We can save
longer and get a bigger house—

“Yes, yes, yes! I want this house.”

Dillon grinned uncomfortably. “It’s only six
hundred and fifty square feet.”

“Yes! The answer is yes—I love the
house!”

In the middle of the teasing and
congratulations, Jake said in Rachel’s ear, “That’s how you say
yes.”

Oh, she knew how to say yes. It was saying
no that would take more strength than reading the
Webster’s
Third New International Dictionary
cover to cover.

Jake cleared his throat. “Okay, everybody,
my gift is a free cruise. Pick any week in May. We’ll call it the
family reunion sail.”

Into the ensuing bedlam, Tim tossed out
gifts wrapped in Indianapolis Star funny papers.

Rachel unwrapped a length of rope, and Jake,
the ring from the bathtub stopper.

“For Rachel to lead Jake around by the
nose,” Tim said.

Joanne waved a paper slip over her head. “A
coupon to drive the Love Machine any time I want to put gas in
it.”

Dillon unfolded a clean, white rag.

“A gag for Nikki when you need some peace
and quiet,” Tim said.

Nikki stuck her bottom lip out and tore the
paper off a fork.

“To stick Dillon with whenever you want
conversation.”

Nikki tried it out. Ned hopped off the couch
to avoid their wrestling match. Dillon triumphantly held up the
fork.

“One more,” Tim said, standing with his hand
over his heart. “Ned, brother of mine, only I know the deepest
desire of your heart. What with all this love in the air, it’s been
a tough time for you. I spared no expense.” He yanked an unwrapped,
bedraggled Barbie doll from behind his back. “A wife!” The doll
sailed through the air.

Ned dodged the offending missile, horror on
his face.

The laughter in the room wrapped around
Rachel. How could someone else’s family feel like your own in less
than forty-eight hours? A picture of her family eating a silent
Christmas dinner pierced her.

Nikki pinned Rachel and Jake with a look.
“So, how serious are you guys, anyway?”

“I was thinking we should get married in May
when you all come down for your cruise. What do you say, Rae?” His
grin fanned across his family and thudded into Rachel.

“Strike two,” she said before thinking.

“Shot you down.” Tim grabbed his chest as if
he’d taken the bullet.

Oh, Geez, Jake’s family will think I’m a
witch.
“We’ll talk about it, okay?”

Joanne pushed out of her chair. “Who’s
hungry?”

While the family filed toward the kitchen,
Jake pulled Rachel up from the loveseat. Nose-to-nose, his eyes
locked onto hers. “Trust me, I’m taking a third swing.”

Jake’s head jerked up from the Indianapolis
Star at the sound of Tim’s wolf whistle in the kitchen doorway.

Rachel glided down the stairs in an ivory
sweater that nuzzled her curves. A skirt made of some wrinkly
material flowed over her hips and swished against silky-looking
stockings with each step of her high heels.

Jake caught Ned’s jaw-drop out of the corner
of his eye and remembered to shut his own mouth.

“Back off boys, she’s mine.”

Rachel blushed as his brothers shuffled into
the kitchen, Tim mumbling something about being capable of getting
his own girl.

Jake met her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Wow. Just wow.” His gaze strolled over her. He pressed his lips
against her smooth cheek and inhaled a girly-yet-Rachel scent. His
fingers laced through hers. “This just might be the best family
reunion I’ve ever been to.”

Rachel lifted her free hand toward him, put
it down, lifted it again, and fingered his hair. “You don’t look so
bad yourself. Nice haircut.”

Rachel’s compliment and touch tripped a wire
in him, firing full-alert through his body. He loved her—not the
instant kind of love he’d felt for Gabs, but a slow-growing variety
that would stand the test of time. His mind blinked to Gram’s
engagement and wedding rings he’d retrieved from the safe deposit
box.

As Jake and Rachel followed the others
toward Gramps’ familiar wood-frame house, grief surged out to greet
him. He caught Rachel’s mitten in his gloved hand to steady
himself.

Light and voices tumbled out the open front
door and drew them into the house—Aunt Zoni’s house now. Sadness
danced into the shadows. Gramps loved a good family reunion. Hugs
and a swirl of greetings and perfumes swallowed Jake as he inched
across the scarred wood floor with Rachel. Children darted through
a sea of legs. Uncle Ken’s head brushed a garland hanging over the
dining room archway.

Jake’s cousin, Susie
,
s
tood rooted to the kitchen floor like a maypole with her
children flailing around her. “Jake must have been ten.”

He cringed, knowing exactly which story
Susie had launched into.

“He had on his dad’s plaid shirt he’d worn
every day since his dad died two years earlier. We were tunneling
through the hayloft.”

He braced himself for the rest of the story
Susie had told twenty times in his hearing—a description of the
cutest baby rat she ever saw, and how he ran screaming like a girl
from the barn.

Rachel, however, lapped up Susie’s words and
the next six embarrassing anecdotes his relatives tossed her while
he hovered at a safe distance.

Aunt Arizona—Zoni—with hair the color of a
Luden’s cherry cough drop, sailed through the room from the back
porch with a three-tiered cake. Jake watched from across the
kitchen as Aunt Zoni-who-must-be-obeyed said something over her
shoulder to Rachel.

Rachel bit her lip and eyed the
sailboat-topped cake as it parted the sea of relatives in front of
his aunt. Panic flitted across Rachel’s face, and she scanned the
room until her eyes latched onto his. Annoyance chased out the fear
in her expression.

He excuse-me-ed his way across the room to
her, enjoying the feeling of being the one she needed—no matter
that his crazy aunt had set her off.

Rachel shot him a glare. “You could have
told me your aunt makes
wedding
cakes.”

“It’ll be okay. Everybody knows that’s the
only kind of cake she makes for every occasion. Not a big deal.” He
gripped her hand and led her to the dining room table where Aunt
Zoni preened beside her masterpiece—white frosted cake set off by
delicate green and red holly trim.

“But there’s a
sailboat
on top!”
Rachel breathed.

Aunt Zoni beamed and clapped her hands for
everyone’s attention. “As you all know, I have a thing for wedding
cakes, weddings—”

The crowd good-naturedly heckled her.

“Sure would be nice if the cake got some of
you young folks in a marrying mood. Gotta keep the family going.”
Her finger brushed the sailboat.

Jake cleared his throat. “I heard Preston’s
got a girl!”

Preston, who had never recovered his
humility after a stint as high school quarterback, coughed loudly
from the kitchen doorway. “Forget the ball and chain, cuz.”

“Or not.” Jake said into the laughter. The
room quieted. “What do you say, Rachel, want to get hitched next
week for the George Foreman Grill I heard Aunt Zoni’s hiding in her
garage for the next wedding?”

“For a Mercedes C-230 I might think about
it.”

The room erupted in laughter again. And he
worried about her being nervous, why?

“Go ahead, cut the cake.” Aunt Zoni thrust a
butcher knife into Rachel’s hand. “Here.” She plopped Jake’s hand
over Rachel’s. “Think happy thoughts, kids.”

“Aunt Zoni, you are so far out of line,
you’re not even in the coloring book,” Jake said and shot a worried
look at Rachel.

Her head bent over the cake as she gouged
out a triangle from the bottom tier.

“Feed each other the cake,” Tim shouted from
the back of the room.

“You’re
so
going to wear this.” She
smiled too sweetly, holding a clump of cake in her palm.

“What? That was Tim’s idea, not mine—”

She smashed frosting across his lips and
chin. Her triumphant, laughing eyes caught his, and someone’s flash
went off. He scrubbed his mouth with one of the red and green
napkins Aunt Zoni had lined across the table.

A spoon clinked against a glass, and soon
the sound moved around the room.

Rachel’s eyes darted to Jake’s, alarmed.

Jake leaned over and whispered in her ear,
“Be a good sport. Don’t deck me.”

“Just get this over with,” she
whispered.

The volume rose till the whole house tinkled
like a chandelier in a gale. “Okay, okay!” Jake said to his
relatives.

He shot her a pleading look. He pulled her
into his arms and savored sweeter-than-frosting lips, knowing he
was going to have hell to pay for it in a few minutes.

When he lifted his head, a blush burned on
Rachel’s cheeks. Glassy eyes stared back at him. Great, now he’d
totally embarrassed her
and
pissed her off.

“About that Mercedes C-230—” Jake said to
the room.

“Cake’s on!” Aunt Zoni shouted, and everyone
swarmed the table.

“Let’s get out of here.” Jake pulled Rachel
through the living room by the hand.

They grabbed their coats off the rack beside
the door and slipped out, Rachel’s hands shook as she zipped
Nikki’s ski jacket.

Moonlight ladled milky light onto the
leafless trees and frozen grass. Gramps’ absence crouched in the
darkness.

He stared ahead toward the lake, his hands
jammed into the pockets of his Dockers. “Sorry for the show in
there.”

“We didn’t have much choice.”

“You’re not mad?”

She sighed. “Not anymore.”

“Maybe you’ll kiss me sometime because you
want to.”

“Maybe.”

They stopped at the edge of the water.
Rachel rubbed one stockinged leg against the other.

He should take her back inside where she
would be warm, but he didn’t want to.

Grief crowded in on him, making him feel
hollow.

“You’re thinking about your grandfather.”
Rachel’s words bulldozed his quiet.

“Now you’re a mind reader?”

“You haven’t been back since the funeral,
have you? What else would you be thinking about?”

“How embarrassed you were ten minutes
ago.”

“I told you I got over it.” She turned to
him, her face in shadow, the pond glittering behind her. “Tell me
about him.”

“What makes you think I want to talk about—”
His hand swept the farm and a thousand memories.

His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw
the sympathy pooling in Rachel’s eyes. He turned away before it
pierced the thin layer of control he had left. “I wonder if the
boat’s still here.” He walked toward the weather-beaten shed.
Running a hand under the roof, he snagged the key. “Right where
Gramps left it.” He unlocked the rusty padlock, and the door
creaked open—along with all the memories of summers he hung out
with Gramps on the farm.

Moonlight beamed across the dusty yellow of
the boat. Seconds ticked by while the grief rolled through him. His
lips quivered, and he pressed them together. He hadn’t expected
seeing the boat to nosedive him into this vat of aching for
Gramps.

Rachel crossed the frozen dirt to where he
stood and circled him with her arms. “You don’t have to hold it
in.”

Voices and laughter filtered down the hill
from the house.

An owl hooted from across the pond.

At their feet, water lapped against the ice
hugging the shore. Rachel’s scent mingled with smoke drifting down
the hill from the farmhouse chimney.

He drew in a ragged breath. Grief cascaded
from the well inside, and silent sobs shook his chest. Dad’s death
had dynamited a canyon down his middle. But Gramps’ death had
blasted even deeper. Gramps knew the inside Jake, a person not
fully formed when Dad died. He’d lived more years with Gramps
packing away countless, crystal memories.

He turned his face into Rachel’s hair.
Gradually, his chest stilled. Warmth crept through all the layers
between them as they clung together.

Rachel handed him a wrinkled tissue from her
pocket, and he blew his nose.

Breaking down should embarrass him. It would
have in front of Gabs. Instead, peace encircled him where Rachel’s
arms had been a moment ago.