Chapter 14
It was morning when Miguel woke to a sensation both strange and hauntingly familiar. A woman slept in his arms, soft and feminine. Not just any woman but Abby. Her warm pliant body blanketed his, and Miguel found he couldn't move, couldn't remove her from his arms had he wanted to, and oddly, he didn't want to. The night before had been a difficult one for the both of them, and he wanted to prolong the peaceful sleep she seemed to be enjoying as long as he could. So he willed his body to relax, each soft breath he took stirring strands of tawny silk beneath his nose, and gradually, his arms didn't feel so awkward in their embrace. A cool breeze circulated through the sleeping house, fluttering the curtains and raising gooseflesh on Miguel's skin. Unconsciously, he tightened the arm around Abby's waist and let his rambling thoughts take over.
The faucet in the kitchen needed repaired, had for a while, but its steady drip-drip symphony was strangely comforting in its familiarity, and familiarity was scarce in the new world Miguel and the boys lived in.
MJ needed to go to the dentist. He had a new tooth coming in, prematurely and awkwardly, behind one of his baby teeth; the problem wasn't a new one, just an overlooked one since MJ's smiles were harder-won these days—even in Abby's presence—and there was an unsettling knowledge in his dark eyes that shouldn't be there yet, an oldness.
Miguel wished to restore his son's innocence and little boyhood. Unfortunately, he didn't possess the ability to travel back in time and change the fate that had befallen them. And the old-new problem of the floundering grades…Miguel wasn't sure holding MJ back another year was the answer. He didn't share Katie's confidence in his own ability to make the right decision; he reached out with his heart and mind for Kay's answer—she would know what to do, have the perfect answer—but her voice was silent, and he felt lost again, always adrift. He was desperately reaching for the nearest saving grace. And right now, for himself and especially for his boys, that saving grace went by the name of Abby. Miguel entertained the notion that maybe they were hers as well.
As if she knew his thoughts were of her, Abby stirred, stiffening momentarily and relaxing in slow increments until she was nearly returned to her earlier boneless state.
Miguel felt the fluttering of her eyelashes and her soft puffs of breath against his unclothed chest and wondered about her uncharacteristic silence. The earlier feeling of awkwardness was revisited, and he hoped she didn't notice the erratic thump of his heart beneath her ear as he racked his brain for something to say.
Abby cut through the tension as only she knew how, with a muttered curse under her breath and an exaggerated groan. "S***! Your mother's going to crawl my ass when she sees this mess."
Evidence of their mutual session of wallowing in self-pity and depression was strewn everywhere throughout the living room: a half-eaten, puddling bowl of Rocky Road, a bowl of buttered popcorn undoubtedly overturned during Abby's initial restless quest to mold his upper body into an appropriate body pillow, the beer he hadn't been able to finish, and DVD's scattered everywhere, mini-documentaries of his and Kay's life together that had made Abby cry again and rendered the beer useless as a numbing tool. In short, the place was a disaster area, and his mother wasn't going to be pleased.
Pissy Pilar really wasn't Abby's favorite person to deal with, and that wasn't due to any outward rudeness on the Lopez-Fitzgerald matriarch's part. On the contrary, Pilar could speak a thousand scathing words with one silent, disapproving glance. Sometimes, Abby thought a cane whipping would be more desirable punishment. "I'll clean it up before she gets here. How many minutes do I have?"
No longer flustered, Miguel laughed as she snuggled into his side and yawned sleepily.
Lifting herself up on her elbows, Abby arched a tawny, challenging brow at him. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice," she grumbled. "And don't laugh at me either. Can I help it that the kid's hijacking all of my energy for itself? Just arguing with you is wearing me out."
"Who's arguing?" Miguel shrugged, causing Abby to huff out an indignant breath. "I haven't said a word," he smirked.
"Don't give me that crap," Abby sighed as she dropped her head back onto his chest wearily and closed her eyes. "Those brown eyes say it all. All you Lo-Fitz men are the same." Flinging an arm across his waist, Abby muttered, "How the hell am I supposed to sleep with you squirming like a worm? Be still."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Miguel retorted dryly. "I can't seem to feel my entire left side anymore." He smirked as he said this, hearing Abby's annoyed little huff.
"All right, funny guy," Abby grumped as she elbowed him soundly in the aforementioned left side and threw a bare leg across his upper thighs in her efforts to get up, "I'm going. Up and at 'em. You make a much better pillow when you're comatose." She bit her lip in consternation when it occurred to her how insensitive her comment might sound to him given the rehashing of memories the night before and looked down at him with apologetic hazel eyes, her fingers unconsciously tracing idle circles on his forearms, his hands having ended up resting clumsily above her knees when she'd straddled his lower body. "I always know just what to say." she sighed, feathering her fingers through Miguel's disheveled dark hair in a gesture identical in its tenderness and easy affection to the one the night before with MJ.
Miguel captured her hand before she could completely remove it and engulfed it in both of his larger hands. She was the only one that didn't speak to him carefully, like she were walking through a minefield, and he appreciated that more than he could say so he gave her a smile of simple gratitude, letting her know everything was okay because he was afraid words might cheapen the sentiment.
Lowering her face to his with hazel eyes that were suspiciously bright, Abby searched Miguel's brown orbs for several long seconds before she reflected his trembling smile with an understanding one of her own. "You're sweet. You know that?" She pressed her lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss then climbed to her feet, taking with her much of the mess of the night before.
Miguel joined her, and Pilar, arriving with Paloma and breakfast nearly a half hour later, was none the wiser.
Strolling into the Book Café a little past eight, Hank dropped into the seat opposite Luis and proclaimed, a little too loudly for Luis's liking, "You're killing my sex life, Man."
Taking a moment to catch his breath and regain his sense of humor after choking on his morning coffee, Luis nevertheless set his mug down with a little too much force, still a little shocked by Hank's morning greeting. Wiping up the hot brown liquid carefully with a napkin, Luis raised his brows in questioning surprise. "Really? That's interesting. Jake's not doing anything to help my love life either. The kid's a regular peeping tom."
"Must've got it from his mother," Hank grunted, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest before looking Luis squarely in the eye and finding recognition there.
A little uncomfortable with the memory himself but enjoying watching his old friend squirm, Luis couldn't help but smile at the comparison. Taking a healthy gulp of his cooling coffee, he set the mug back down and regarded Hank in silence for a few seconds. Before he knew it, Hank was grinning back at him, and Luis could easily guess why. As usual, it had been an interesting night to say the least with Jake sleeping just down the hall from his and Sheridan's bedroom. The boy seemed to have an unerring special sixth sense when it came to interrupting intimate moments. "So we're even?"
"Sheridan might beg to differ," Hank smirked. "I'm sure she'd like equal opportunity to see me in the buff."
"Now I know you're just pulling stuff out of your ass," Luis laughed. "You kissed her first, Buddy," he reminded Hank, "and she wasn't exactly bowled over by that Bennett charm you swear by."
"Stop it," Beth begged teasingly as she set a steaming mug of coffee down in front of Hank and served Luis a blueberry muffin. "I'm having flashbacks of junior high."
"Beth," Luis greeted with twinkling dark eyes.
Hank nudged the empty chair beside him with his foot, raising his eyebrows up and down in a weird little dance that had Beth giggling helplessly in a manner reminiscent with her schoolgirl days as he made a smirking suggestion. "We're due for another walk down memory lane. Wanna revisit the Prom Queen Era?"
They did just that, making the Chief of Police more than a little late for work.
The Bennett charm wasn't working any favors for Jake either. He was rapidly losing points with Ali over his behavior to Lissy's intrusion on their morning. Not to mention he was already in the negative numbers with Lissy. Man, could she keep a grudge or what? That ugly little incident at the Youth Center was ages ago! Slumping his shoulders, he decided to go outside and see what Cristian was up to.
The morning was warm, the sun already high and bright in the clear blue sky.
Miss Priss was sunning herself on the picnic table, playfully swishing her fluffy white tail back and forth for Gizmo to chase.
Max barked somewhere on the outskirts of the yard, probably at some squirrel.
Jake wandered to the front of the house, following the sound of voices. He stopped short when he saw Cristian's dark head peeking at him over the top of Sheridan and Luis's SUV. A moment later he disappeared, and Jake walked around the car to see what was going on, his dark brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
Clad in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a pink spaghetti-strapped top, Sheridan looked like an older version of Ali, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness and a dazzling smile lighting up her face as she crouched beside Cristian and a bucket of sudsy water.
Cristian had more bubbles in his hair and on his water-soaked clothes than he did on his rag, but he didn't seem to care. He giggled as Sheridan once again lifted him into her arms and set to work scrubbing the rag over the top of the SUV. Until he saw Jake anyway. Then he flapped the rag in greeting sending droplets of water and bubbles spraying in his mother's face. "Jake, I'm washing the car."
Laughing, Sheridan set him back on his feet, sounding a little out of breath as she teased him. "You didn't miss a spot, did you? Cause Hope would tell me if you did."
For the first time, Jake noticed Hope, happily ensconsed in her bouncy seat under the shade of a nearby tree. He grinned when she seemed to recognize her name, flailing her chubby arms out and letting loose a joyful prolonged coo.
"Mommy," Cristian failed to look perturbed at that little nugget, "that's imposs-bul." Then, explaining things as if he were the adult and Sheridan the child, he said matter-of-factly, "Babies can't fly."
"Oh," Sheridan seemed to accept his answer with a nod. "I see. Does that mean little boys can?" She didn't just rely on Cristian's word; she looked to Jake for confirmation, her blue eyes twinkling wildly.
"Some of them can," Cristian insisted before Jake could issue his own denial. "But only at night."
"I get it now," Sheridan smiled. "Like Peter Pan."
"But Tinker Bell could fly too," Jake pointed out, feeling strangely generous and willing to play along with Cristian's little fantasy, even if meant making the almost embarrassing revelation that yes, he HAD seen the movie. Being a big brother to two sisters sure was a pain sometimes. He let Cristian digest that information while he walked a few feet away and retrieved the water hose.
Cristian, however, drew a whole other set of conclusions Jake wasn't counting on, his brown eyes going comically wide a second later and preceding an outburst that had Jake snickering and Sheridan struggling not to laugh, lest she hurt his tender feelings. "Abby can fly! Do you think Dr. Nick knows?"
At that moment across town at the Harmony Hospital, just finishing his morning rounds, Nick was coming to the painful realization that maybe he didn't know anything about Abby at all. At least he didn't understand her, and if knowing and understanding were one in the same, he was simply clueless because he sure as hell didn't understand her these days.
As to Katie, listening to him as he droned off orders in a seeming daze…well, to her, Nick's eye-opening revelation was already old news. Taking into account the fact that men rarely ever truly understood women, she was willing to give him a little more credit, choosing to believe instead that the communications system between his head and his overprotected heart was a little rusty, and that he knew Abby about as well as he knew himself. Katie figured his head just didn't want to acknowledge what his heart already knew. He was being too damn cautious, and she wanted to knock some sense into him, but the way he looked right now…well, it made it a little hard to handle the situation with the harshness she was beginning to think it deserved, if only to open his eyes before it was too late. Not that she was an expert on tough love, she just…dammit, the man was being such a hardhead. And Abby…Abby was giving him a neck and neck run for his money. Unable to stop herself, Katie blurted, "You look awful."
Katie's candor made a hint of a smile grace Nick's lips, and he took the charts from her hands and started walking without any particular destination in mind, Katie following behind him. His reply was honest, to the point, and revealing. "I've never been more miserable in my life."
Nodding knowingly, Katie matched her stride to his effortlessly longer one, and they walked in silence for a while, past elevators and down winding hallways. Their journey finally ended at the nursery where a symphony of newborn cries hailed them, and Katie felt an almost painful tug at her heart at the unbearable softness in Nick's gray eyes as he gazed upon them through the viewing glass. Smiling, she murmured in a voice just as gentle as the look in his eyes an age-old question, hoping not to startle him. "Boy or girl?"
His gaze still trained ahead, Nick answered, barely above a whisper as he gave a slight shake of his head. "Ours. Hers and mine. Healthy. That's all that matters."
Simultaneously touched and baffled by his answer, Katie pondered how one man could seemingly be so blind to his own feelings.
"With her eyes."
Milk did a body good, and dammit if Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald didn't hold VERY strongly to that belief, Abby thought silently, her hazel eyes wide as Pilar pushed what had to be the sixth glass of milk of the day into her hands. Beside her on the sofa, Theresa giggled, and Abby frowned when she glanced around her and noticed the laughter lurking in both Paloma's and Miguel's dark eyes. "Really, Pilar," she tried ineffectually to return the glass of milk to the older woman's hands, "I have more milk in me than Betsy the Dairy Cow. I couldn't possibly drink another drop." Her child was going to exit the womb mooing, a true tabloid headline-grabber.
"It's good for the baby," Pilar insisted sternly, with a look in her dark eyes that dared Abby to voice any more complaints. Without another word, she crossed the living room to look outside the window at the boys, playing a game of catch with Martin and Chad, who, along with Theresa, had arrived shortly after breakfast.
Did these people not work, Abby wondered idly as she sipped compliantly at her glass of milk. For that matter, did SHE work anymore? The avoidance tactic she was taking with Nick was eating up all of her personal time. Hell. Would she have any time left to take for maternity leave? Would she even have a job to take maternity leave from when she finally decided to quit evading the man and whatever the hell kind of future that awaited them as parents? Oh God, ohhh s***. And that was the least of her concerns, the tip of the iceberg if she could still trust her instincts. When Miguel looked at her in concern, Abby flashed him a reassuring smile and forced herself to think of other things, like the trip to New York that Theresa had been chattering excitedly about ALL morning and was STILL practically bubbling over. It was a futile effort—Theresa was talking dizzyingly fast—and Abby quietly excused herself, heaving a giant sigh of relief when she made it to the relative solitude of her bedroom. She knew it was childish, but she kept her fingers crossed, praying no one would follow her, not even Miguel. Millions of questions and thoughts were swirling around inside her jumbled head, half of them without any obvious answers. She was so damn confused.
The curtains flapped in the breeze admitted through the partially raised window, and Abby could hear that MJ and Joshua were laughing, little boys again, and the sound brought a smile to her lips that quickly faded when her crazy thoughts caught back up with her.
They weren't her little boys, no matter if she'd attended Miguel's meeting with MJ's teacher and sat at his side in what should have been Kay's chair. No matter if she'd become a frequent visitor at Joshua's therapy sessions.
Abby wanted desperately to help Miguel, but the responsibility for mending his broken heart wasn't hers; they'd been moving past the point of awkwardness to a comfort zone that she much preferred to the disconcerting awareness that lurked in the depths of Miguel's serious dark eyes with each passing day during which their co-dependency grew out of control like an untended garden.
That, and she'd already established that she was dangerously close to overstepping her own good sense when it came to MJ and Joshua.
Biting her lip, Abby closed her eyes against the truth she knew would break her heart and theirs. She was wading in too deep, and the water would soon be over her head if she weren't careful.
It was time to go back home where she belonged.
Just as soon as she figured out a way to let them ALL down gently.
Jake may have only had ten years to his dad's too many to count, but he was wise beyond his years. Way wise beyond his years. Wise enough to appreciate true beauty when he saw it. Even man enough to admit it when it took his breath away. And he was most definitely breathless, thanks to Ali.
But, Jake was a card-carrying He-Man Woman Hater, and letting Ali catch him giving her moon eyes would be like the kiss of death to his tough guy reputation, so he did the smart thing. He did the manly thing.
He let her take his breath away from the safety of the tree house, hidden and unnoticed, all the while keeping up the pretense of playing fort with Cristian.
Barefoot and lightly tanned, Ali had a restored healthy glow to her cheeks as she crowded close to Sheridan's side, her pretty mouth open wide in a smile as she tickled her little sister's tummy, making her squirm in Sheridan's lap and cackle with delight. Lissy was snuggled close to Sheridan's opposite side, her tawny hair spilling loosely over her shoulders, her fingers tickling Hope's chubby little tummy, too, and Jake couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid, all helpless and defenseless at the onslaught. But his good sense and reason was quickly restored. After all, gleeful and willful torture of one's little brother, or in this case, little sister, fell under the older brother or sister's unspoken bill of rights. Besides, a little tickling was harmless in the grand scheme of things. Unless you didn't want to get peed on. Jake shuddered at the unsavory memory that thought brought rushing back and turned around to face Cristian. He couldn't very well let Cristian tattle on him for staring at his sister, could he? Not that Cristian would actually be so spiteful. He just couldn't keep a secret is all.
Playing fort alone wasn't much fun, and Cristian released a noisy sigh when he realized he finally had Jake's attention. "I'm bored."
So was he, Jake thought grumpily, casting a longing glance down at the tight-knit group below them. It just wasn't fair, he thought with a frown. Ali never paid any attention to him when Lissy was around. "Me, too," Jake said, letting loose an equally loud sigh as he flopped down beside Cristian and matched his dejected pose, legs crossed Indian style, elbows propped on his thighs, and chin supported by his palms.
"We could play catch with Max," Cristian suggested hopefully.
"Too hot," Jake muttered, the idea not holding much appeal to him, as they'd already played twenty rounds of fetch with the eager golden retriever earlier.
"Yeah," Cristian agreed. "What about fishing? We could go fishing."
Jake's brows rose at the suggestion as he wondered where exactly Cristian thought they could go fishing, especially when they were surrounded by girlie girls that would be horrified at the suggestion, but then a slow grin blossomed on his face as the perfect idea occurred to him, and he gave Cristian's dark head an appreciative if not teasing tousle. "You know what Cristian? You're a genius. That's a perfect idea."
Cristian's tanned face nearly split in two with the proud wide grin he gave Jake in answer, and he followed Jake carefully down the rungs of the tree house ladder, jumping before he reached the last one, mimicking Jake's own bravery as he leapt to the soft green grass below. Only Cristian tumbled to his hands and knees, the breath momentarily knocked out of him as he rolled to a sitting position in a complete daze. Not wanting to look like a baby in front of Jake, he climbed to his feet seconds later, brushing the blades of grass and smudges of dirt from his knees.
"Jeez," Jake groaned, as he imagined the likely methods of punishment Uncle Luis would dole out to him if Cristian cried or even mentioned he were hurt because he had to copycat everything Jake did. "You alright?" Jake snuck a look over his shoulder, grateful that Sheridan hadn't witnessed Cristian's fall or his quickly formulating plan would be over before it was started.
"Yeah," Cristian replied without so much as a pout.
Jake felt the faint stirrings of pride for the kid. So Cristian wasn't a completely hopeless Mama's baby case; there was still hope for him to toughen it up. But until then, Jake decided to take on the job of his protector, cause he was young and all. Cristian's status as Ali's little brother didn't have anything to do with it. Nothing at all. With a jaunty step forward, Jake started whistling a nameless little tune, something he'd heard on television somewhere. Where, he had no idea. Probably one of his sisters' stupid videos.
"Where we going?" Cristian wondered as he jogged to catch up with Jake, who was headed toward the house.
"We need something to dig with. A shovel. And a bucket," Jake said decisively, slowing down so Cristian's much shorter legs didn't have to work so hard to keep up.
"What for?" Cristian asked, just the slightest bit puzzled. Fishing with his daddy and Jake's uncle Sam never involved a shovel and a bucket, but what did he know. Jake was ten. Cristian was starting kindergarten in the fall. Jake was older and smarter, and he was just…Jake. His sand pail and shovel were somewhere in his room, probably under his bed. "I know where I can find them. What are we digging for?"
Jake rolled his brown eyes as he gently pushed Cristian inside the air-conditioned kitchen ahead of him. "Bait, you doofus. Worms. Creepy, crawly, slimy ones that the fish'll just LOVE. Now hurry up and don't mention anything about our trip to your mom or Ali and especially not Lissy."
Cristian's brow furrowed in confusion. "But why?"
"Because it's a surprise," Jake told him, grinning as his plan started to crystallize inside his devious Bennett mind. "And," he added in a stroke of brilliance that made Cristian virtual putty in his capable hands, "your mom won't say no if we already have the bait and everything, can she? Hurry up. I'll wait for you out here." He helped himself to a tall glass of lemonade while he waited on Cristian and his grin stretched even wider as his brown eyes took on a mischievous glint. You didn't ignore Jake Bennett. You just didn't. In fact, his dad always said it was dangerous to do so.
This was going to be fun.
Feedback is adored.
Thanks so much for reading!