“Hey, sweetie, you don’t have anything to apologize for; if it doesn’t bother you, it sure as hell doesn’t bother me! Besides, you know what they say: No good deed goes unpunished!” He knew she was talking about the Fourth and the panty incident. When she pinched his cheek and winked at him, he got even redder, then pushed off and started swimming laps. By that time, Tony had tears rolling down his cheeks.
“You gonna go get him a suit?” Nikki asked as she dropped onto the chaise beside Tony to enjoy the view.
“Nah, not yet. I’ll let him stew a bit,” he told her, trying to catch his breath. “I’ll go get him one in a little while. Serves him right, flashing his boy bits at my girl!”
“Boy? That ain’t no boy, darlin’, that’s all grown-ass man. I will tell you this: You need to help that one right there find him a woman. It’s a damn shame that’s going to waste. Ummm, damn shame.” She grinned as she sipped her glass of wine and watched Vic swim.
“Should I be jealous?” Tony asked, giving her a fake concerned look.
“Well, maybe,” she drawled, and his eyes went wide. “Just kidding, baby! But you know, I’m just sayin’.” She fanned herself and groaned, “Have mercy!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Is there any way I can take tomorrow off?” Nikki asked Tony during dinner on Wednesday night.
“Well, sure, I guess. Got a doctor’s appointment or something?” Tony thought it would be odd that she’d have something coming up and not say anything to him.
“No, I just want the day off, that’s all.” She didn’t explain, just pushed her food around on her plate.
“Okay. Not a problem. Got anything that needs to be covered?”
“No. I took care of everything today. It’s all good.”
He tried again. “Well then, okay. Got big plans?” He forked up another bite of her meatloaf – god, it was always good – and waited.
“Nope.” She didn’t offer any more information, and Tony wondered exactly what she was up to.
“Boss, you’ve got a call. It’s José Flores,” Cheryl called into Tony’s office.
“Hey, José, what’s up?” Tony rarely got calls from Nikki’s security detail.
“Tony, I don’t know what Nikki’s up to, but she’s headed out of town.”
“Out of town in which direction?” Tony’s instincts had been right – she was up to something, but he had no idea what.
“She’s on I-65 headed toward Elizabethtown. Do you have any idea where she might be going?”
Tony thought for a minute. Then something passed through his mind. “Hang on a minute, José. I’ve got a hunch.” He brought up his computer and, in his search engine, typed “Randy Wilkes.” Nothing. Then he tried “Randall Wilkes obituary.” He got three results, and one of them was the local paper in Murray. And there it was – date of death, August sixteenth. Six years to the day. “Yeah, José, she’s going to Murray, where she’s from.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay on her. I’ll call in a few favors. Thanks for letting me know. Call you back in a few.”
In forty-five minutes, Tony was at the airport and boarding Frank Simpson’s helicopter for Murray. Frank owed Tony a few favors for extras Tony had added during the building of Frank and Becca’s house, and Frank had reminded Tony over and over that he was owed a favor whenever it was needed. The Walters’ theory of doing right by others and they’d do right by you was paying off.
Tony called José to say he was on his way, then called the only car rental place in Murray and asked for a car to be left at the airport, giving them the address of the cemetery to put into the car’s navigation system. After he’d found Randy’s obit, he’d used the kids’ names to find their obits, which included the burial plans. With all the prep done, he sat back and thought about what he was doing. He was conflicted; she might need some privacy, but she also needed someone there with her. He’d watch her from a distance, then let her know he was there for her if and when she needed him. If she didn’t need him, she’d never have to know he’d been there.
He picked up the car at the tiny airport – truly tiny – and drove straight to the cemetery. His last call to José told him Nikki was still some time out. The town was pretty, a typical small Kentucky town, with some old structures and some new, and a little park here and there. A loop through the cemetery turned up some interesting headstones; one appeared to be a big cat, possibly a leopard or panther. Any other time he might’ve stopped and looked around, but instead, he drove to the very back and waited. He’d stopped at a small grocery on his drive through town and picked up a sandwich and a drink, and he sat in the rental car at the cemetery and ate slowly, wondering when she’d get there.
Had Nikki intended to tell him that evening what she’d done, or would she have made up some story? No, he thought, she wasn’t that devious, and she certainly didn’t lie. She would’ve told him that evening; she was probably just afraid he’d try to stop her, and he had to admit he would’ve. With everything that had been happening, he didn’t think her leaving town alone was a very good idea, but she had to have known one of Steve’s people would follow her.
Almost on cue, his phone rang: José. “You in place?”
“Waiting.”
“We’re headed your way.” Within minutes Tony saw it – the red Volvo SUV. He watched as the big vehicle made its way down the narrow lanes in the cemetery. It finally stopped about halfway back. The door opened, and Nikki stepped out. She crossed the large burial area and stopped, then dropped to her knees. Tony’s heart broke; even at the distance between them, he could see the anguish on her face, as fresh and raw as the day her children had died.
He was about to start the car and drive toward her when he spotted another car, a large blue sedan, coming in the drive. It pulled up past her SUV and stopped. An older couple got out of the car and started toward the gravesite, but when they saw Nikki, they turned and hurried back toward their car. He watched as Nikki stood and called out to them, then ran toward them, but they ignored her. She made it to their car almost as soon as they did, and he saw her reach out and touch the man’s arm.
To Tony’s horror, the man pushed her hard enough that she fell on her backside, then yelled something at her and got in his car. Nikki got up, tried the door handle, beat on the window, and followed the car for about twenty feet until it sped up and drove away. She stood in the drive, watching the car drive away, and the look of misery on her face caused his throat to close.
Her parents – had to be.
Tony was beyond appalled. She’d come five hours to stand at the graves of her dead children, only to have her own parents turn away from her, her father shove her, drive away, treat her like garbage. What kind of people would do that? He watched her drop to her knees in the gravel, double over, then curl up like a dying fern and shrivel before his eyes. And he’d had enough.
He started the car and drove around until he was behind the Volvo, then got out and walked toward her. What he heard made him stop and tore the breath from his lungs – a keening, sharp and agonizing, as she cried out in heart-wrenching anguish. Her wailing was so pitiful, so piercing, that he froze. What could he say, what could he do, that would make this better? How could he console her through a pain so unbearable? What could anyone say to someone who’s been so wounded and left to suffer that way?
When he worked up the courage to walk to her, he simply knelt beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even look up; she just reached across her body, grabbed his wrist, and continued to heave and sob. He could’ve been anyone, and he realized in that moment that she didn’t care who was touching her; she just needed a tiny little bit of kindness, and it wouldn’t have mattered if it came from a stranger.
They sat like that for what seemed like forever, then Nikki turned to look at him. Her eyes were so swollen from crying he wasn’t sure she realized it was him. “Sweetheart, it’s me,” he whispered. “It’s me, baby. I�
�m here.” He knelt in front of her and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.
Nikki hugged her arms against her body and folded into him. She cried softly, “They don’t love me. My own parents; they don’t love me. I’m not sure they ever have. Why don’t my parents love me, Tony? What’s wrong with me that I’m so unlovable? What did I do that’s so terrible that my own family doesn’t want me?”
A tear slid down his face as he squeezed her tight. “Oh, baby, I don’t know what’s wrong with them. But you listen to me: Don’t come back here. Ever again. Don’t do this to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetie – nothing, you hear me? It’s them, baby, it’s not you. It’s them.” He smoothed her hair, then put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “You’re smart and beautiful and loving. You have me; you have Clayton and Annabeth and Katie and Brittany; you have Vic; you have Mamma and all of my brothers and their families. Marla and Carol think you’re wonderful. The guys at work all think you’re super cool, not to mention very, very hot. To hell with these people. You don’t need them anymore, and you certainly don’t need the way they make you feel. Shake it off, precious. You have a wonderful life now. Live it, love it, and leave this behind.”
He took her hand, helped her stand, and walked back to the headstone, a beautiful white granite; Jake and Amanda’s names were there, set forever into its face. Tony stood behind Nikki with his arms around her waist. “You’ll never forget and after today, I never will either. You know, Nik, I know it still hurts – it always will – but that pain is what helps you remember.” He felt her relax against him, and he took her hand and led her toward the Volvo.
After he’d insisted that she eat a sandwich in the grocery store parking lot and they’d taken the car back to the rental place, they met José at a gas station near the parkway and told him they were driving back. He fell in behind the Volvo and followed them to Louisville.
When they pulled into the driveway of the house in Anchorage, the windows were lit up. Katie’s little Subaru wagon and Brittany’s Lexus sedan sat out front. He looked at Nikki, but nothing registered on her face. She’d said next to nothing all the way back, and he didn’t know how she’d react to a house full of twenty- and thirty-somethings after the day she’d had.
“If you want me to send them home, I will,” he said quietly as he parked her Volvo. “I know you probably don’t feel like . . .”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine, just tired. They probably think they’re helping.” She climbed down out of the SUV and trudged toward the door.
When they stepped inside, they were more than shocked. In addition to the kids, Raffaella was there, and all five of them were sitting in the living room, quietly playing cards. They all looked up and smiled as Tony and Nikki walked into the room.
Raffaella rose and took Nikki’s face in her hands, kissed her on the forehead. “Daughter, I am glad my son brought you home. I have pasta e fagioli in the crack pot in the kitchen for you.” Nikki knew she meant the slow cooker, and she heard Annabeth stifle a giggle.
“Thank you, Raffaella,” Nikki hugged the older woman, who squeezed Nikki back.
“Please, that is Mamma, my dear.” She took Nikki’s hand and led her toward the kitchen. As they walked away, Tony heard her say, “I also made for you my Italian cream cake. I hope you will like it.”
On the counter in the kitchen was an enormous vase of fresh cut flowers with a card from The Passionate Pansy sticking out. Before Nikki could pull it off to read it, Clayton told her, “Marla and Carol sent those to you. They couldn’t find you, so they brought them to the office. I brought them home for you.” They’d remembered; Nikki teared up at the thought.
Raffaella sat Nikki down at the table and crossed to the stove to ladle out some of the pasta. Even though she’d thought she couldn’t eat, Nikki’s mouth watered as Raffaella handed the bowl to Tony and he set it in front of Nikki. While Raffaella ladled another bowl out for Tony, Brittany placed a plate of sliced, crusty French bread on the table, and Annabeth pulled the water pitcher from the refrigerator and poured each of them a glass of water, then replaced it and produced two small salads and a bottle of dressing. Nikki couldn’t believe it – they’d apparently planned this all afternoon. She looked at Tony, who just smiled and dug into the bowl of pasta. She tried a bite – it was delicious, all hot and savory, and the ditalini was cooked perfectly. Everything – the food, the house – was filled with love. “Aren’t any of you going to eat?” she asked.
Katie shook her head and smiled. “We’ve already eaten. We were waiting for you guys. We haven’t had dessert yet, but Nonna wouldn’t let us cut the cake until you got here.” Despite the day, Nikki had to chuckle, and Tony laughed outright.
After the salad and pasta, Raffaella produced the cake, which looked too good to eat. She cut perfectly sized portions and passed them around, even taking one herself. Nikki put a forkful of the cake in her mouth and almost cried – it was easily the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. “Raffa . . . Mamma, this cake is, well, I don’t know what to say. It’s amazing!”
The small woman smiled broadly. “Thank you, dear. It is my favorite to make. My Marco used to say it was better than sex.” Nikki almost choked, and Tony started laughing again.
“Wow, Mamma, if I were you I wouldn’t tell that on myself!” Tony cackled, but Raffaella looked puzzled as Nikki and all of the kids started laughing too.
“Perhaps it was the flour?” Raffaella said, still confused, and Tony howled. Everyone was laughing except Raffaella, who still couldn’t understand what was so funny.
When they’d all calmed down and gotten themselves under control, the usually-quiet Clayton spoke softly. “Nikki, Annabeth and I wanted to ask you something.”
“Of course, honey. What is it?” she asked, finishing her cake and fighting the urge to ask for another piece.
“We were wondering, do you think it would be okay if we called you Mom?” he asked, his voice serious and low.
Tony’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline – their timing couldn’t be worse – but Clayton misread his expression and timidly asked, “Oh, Dad, is that not okay?”
“Oh, no, Clayton, that’s absolutely fine with me. I was thinking, though, that this has been a hard day, and maybe it’s not a really good time to . . .” Tony said, recovering pretty quickly but still concerned.
Nikki interrupted him. “No, Tony, that’s okay. I think it’s a perfectly good time to ask that.” She sniffed hard to keep the tears at bay and straightened her back, then looked from one young face to another. “You know, I never expected anybody to call me Mom again.” She took a deep breath and tried to keep her composure. “If it’s ever going to happen, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather it be than you guys. I love you both – I love all four of you – and I’ll gladly be your mom if you’ll have me.” Even though she was working hard to keep it from happening, a tear escaped from one eye and meandered down her cheek.
Annabeth started to cry outright and ran to hug Nikki. Clayton reached over and took her hand wordlessly, his eyes welling. Tony decided he’d better say nothing or he’d start to blubber. Then Nikki turned to him, a sob escaping her lips, and cried in an almost childlike voice, “Oh, god – I have a family! A real family, people who love me!” she wailed, and Tony lost it. He pulled her to him and held her tight, so tight he was afraid she might break.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to tell you that for months. We’re all here for you – always. Between me, the kids, Mamma, Vic, and all of my brothers and their families, you’ll never be alone again. This is your life now. We love you so much.”
“I love you guys too!” Nikki cried out, still sobbing, and pretty soon there was a seven-person Walters pileup going on as everyone hugged everyone. It went on for what seemed like forever until Nikki heard Clayton say, in his usual straightforward Clayton fashion, “Would it be okay if I had some more cake now?”
After his third piece of cak
e, Clayton announced, “Brit and I have something we want to talk to all of you about.” They both got up from the table and walked toward the den. Everyone else followed, looking at each other and wondering what they were about to hear.
When they were all settled, Clayton started. “You all know we’ve been trying to get pregnant.” Everyone in the room nodded. “So we just wanted to ask: What would everybody think about us becoming foster parents?”
Before anyone else could speak, Nikki asked, “How do you feel about getting your hearts broken over and over?”
Not missing a beat, Brittany answered matter-of-factly, “I’ve miscarried three times. We’ve lost implanted embryos four times. I don’t know how much more broken my heart could be.”
“Then if you’re prepared for the heartbreak, I think it’s a great idea.” Nikki looked at Tony. “Baby, what about you?”
“Personally, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Tony agreed. “Are you thinking of fostering and then maybe adopting? Is that where this is going?”
Clayton nodded. “We hope so. And we don’t care – baby, toddler, small child, teen, Black, White, Latino, Asian – we really don’t care. We’d just like to give a home to a child who needs one.”
Annabeth and Katie were quiet. Raffaella spoke up. “I think this fostering is a wonderful idea. I would welcome a new great-grandchild.” She looked at Annabeth and Katie. “Well,” she asked, “what about the two of you? What do you think about this idea your brother and his beautiful wife have?”
“Oh, I think it’s great,” Annabeth mumbled, sounding decidedly unexcited. “Katie?” Annabeth asked, turning to her partner.
“Yeah, great.” Katie looked miserable.
“Something going on here?” Tony asked the girls.
“Yeah.” Annabeth tried to work up her courage. “It’s just that, well, we want to try artificial insemination, but we can’t afford the sperm or the procedures. And no, Dad, we don’t want you to help out,” she added when Tony started to speak. “We want to do this ourselves, but it’s all so expensive.”