Sugar Creek (18 page)

“A telegram?” Edna asked. She’d never seen one before, but she knew people sent them when they had something urgent to say.

Giovanni ripped it open as Edna peeked around his shoulder to see.

Edna gasped, then watched as Giovanni’s olive complexion turned ashen. “Oh Giovanni, I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing his arm.

Five minutes later, Edna watched him pack his suitcase, feeling, she suspected, nearly as desolate as he did. “I hate that you have to leave now,” she told him. She didn’t mean to whine, especially under the circumstances, but she couldn’t hold it in.

“Do not worry—I will be back soon,” he said without looking up from his work

“Take me with you,” she said. “Take me to Italy. I should be by your side while you go through this.”

In reply, Giovanni stopped packing and turned to face
her, cupping her cheek in his palm. “I would love to take you,
fiore,
but you have no passport.”

She felt deflated, as if the air had just been sucked out of her body. “Oh.” And despite the warmth of the day, all of it pouring in through the open windows, Edna wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly cold and alone. “What if you don’t come back?”

She knew she shouldn’t be plaguing him like this, after him getting such painful news, but she couldn’t help it. One moment they were getting engaged, and the next he was leaving? She hadn’t found much in life to love this deeply, and she couldn’t help but fear this was the end of her newfound happiness, that it would all be taken from her now.

Giovanni gazed down into her eyes. “Of course I will come back, fiore. Everything I own is here. And my love is here, too. And if my mother passes,” he added sadly, “well…maybe my brothers and sisters will finally come to America with me. I have long wanted them to.”

He reached out, grabbing her hand, squeezing gently. “Someday I will take you to Italy and you will fall in love with it. For now, though, you must care for the farm—you and the boys. There is money in my bureau, and I will wire more.” With that, he turned back to his suitcase, packing more clothes inside.

Despite all he said, though, Edna couldn’t shake off her fears. She felt abandoned already. She knew it was irrational, she knew he had no choice in the matter—but a sense of doom weighed on her. Sinking into an easy chair in the corner of Giovanni’s bedroom, she hugged herself tighter.

It was only after he closed his suitcase, buckling it shut, that he turned to see her despair. He knelt down before her and peered into her eyes. “Edna, what can I do? How can I make this better?”

She felt childish. This wasn’t like her, and she could
scarcely explain it herself, let alone to Giovanni. Surely it wasn’t because of the way he’d teased her about other girls. His proposal had blotted all that out, yet…well, she hated the idea of him being so far away when she suddenly felt jealous. “I know you got enough to worry about already,” she said softly. “I just have…a bad feelin’ about this. This has been…my magic summer, in my magic place. And I’m afraid once you leave me here that you’ll never really be mine again.” And then she burst into tears. She hated crying—hated it—and she seldom did it. But right now, she couldn’t rein in her silly emotions—she couldn’t make sense of anything.

Easing beneath her on the chair, Giovanni pulled her into his lap and hugged her until her tears abated, wiping the last few away himself. “Of course I will be yours. Did I not promise you are always my number one girl? You are only reacting this way because so much has happened today, because it is happening so fast.” He rested his forehead against hers, and she simply soaked up the moment, and his warmth.

Then he pulled back and used one bent finger to lift her chin. “In my family, there is a tradition,” he told her. “When a man proposes to a woman, he gives her an engagement gift, something dear to him, as a promise that his love is true. Since I had no plan to propose today and do not even yet have a ring, I also have no gift prepared—but I think I know the perfect thing.”

He sounded so hopeful, Edna sat up straighter, her mood lifting slightly at the distraction. “What is it?”

“You tell me every day how you love the farm, yes? Well then, this will be my gift to you.”

She blinked. “The farm?” She didn’t point out that once they married, the farm would be half hers anyway—because it truly seemed like such a significant gesture, from the heart. She’d learned that he’d built the place with his own bare hands over the past five years.

He nodded. “You will keep it safe until I return—and then it will be ours together, always.”

And the strange truth was, his promise made her feel better. It was one thing to leave your fiancée on your land; it was another to give it to her before you went. And it wasn’t that she’d doubted him, but somehow this made his love feel all the more real and his return all the more certain.

“Look,” he said, lifting them both to their feet, then finding a pen. “I will even make it official.” Grabbing up the telegram, he turned it over on his suitcase and began to write on the back. A few minutes later, he pressed the piece of paper into her hand and she opened it, peering down.

It was dated and signed. And she knew the little note wasn’t legal—it was scrawled haphazardly on the back of a telegram, for heaven’s sake—but it made his promise feel even more tangible, gave her something to hold onto while he was away. She lifted her gaze to his and when their eyes locked, she trusted, she believed. Giovanni would return home to her. And this truly was her home now. Hers and his.

Just then, a knock came on the back door and a male voice echoed through the house. “Hello? Y’all in here?”

“Come in, Eddie,” Giovanni called, his gaze still on Edna’s. “In fact, come back here, to my room.”

And when Eddie walked in, looking a little perplexed, Giovanni said to Edna, “Look, we even have a witness. Sign this, Eddie.”

Soon after, Giovanni hugged and kissed her and held
her tight for a long, bittersweet moment—and then she watched as he got in his Cadillac, waved goodbye, and disappeared across Sugar Creek.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, pointing to the old slip of paper that had been folded around Giovanni’s picture. It was still in Edna’s grasp. “That’s the telegram.”

“Sure as shootin’,” Edna said. They’d long since poured iced tea, grabbed a couple of apples to snack on, and moved to the sofa, so now Edna lowered the piece of paper to the flowered cushion upon which she sat and shoved it toward Rachel.

Rachel picked it up and read first the front, then the handwritten promise from Giovanni. It would have been evocative enough without having just heard Edna tell the story, but now…well, she’d never felt so close to her grandmother, as if she were holding Edna’s heart in her hands.

Finally, she looked back up, ready for more. “What then?”

“That’s it,” Edna said.

Rachel leaned toward her. “
It?
”

“For today.”

Oh brother. Rachel could only glare, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are infuriating, old woman.”

But Edna just laughed, and it came as no surprise that she
liked
being infuriating.

Another glance down at Edna’s one-time lover again reminded Rachel of her
own
lover, even if that seemed an odd label to put on Mike Romo. “I guess I may as well tell you…” she began. Because she
had
to tell her. Mike would be picking her up here, after all. And she wouldn’t want to lie to Edna about this anyway—even just by omission.

“Tell me what?” Edna asked when she didn’t finish.

Shame dripped from Rachel’s voice as she admitted her
transgression. “I’ve agreed to go with Mike Romo to his grandmother’s birthday party this weekend.”

Edna simply looked at her, and Rachel couldn’t read her expression, but she could guess at her emotions well enough. For a Farris to celebrate with the Romo clan was unthinkable—and if Giovanni was Mike’s grandpa, then Grandma Romo had to be…the woman Giovanni had somehow ended up with instead of Edna.

“It’s hard to explain why,” Rachel rushed on when Edna didn’t reply, “but basically, he had me trapped to the ground in a game of football and refused to let me up unless I agreed. So I had no other choice.”

Slowly then, Edna’s eyes turned sly. “I
knew
you two had the hots for each other.”

Rachel offered up her usual eye roll in response. “Whatever. He’s attractive, I suppose.” She left out the part about him being so attractive that she’d already had sex with him. So attractive that it seemed to override all her sense and logic when he touched her. Then she added, “I hope this doesn’t upset you.”

Edna gave her head a thoughtful tilt, and finally replied, “Actually, I think I’m glad. I’ll be proud for all those Romos to see how smart and pretty and funny my granddaughter turned out.”

Rachel couldn’t have been more stunned—because Edna was a lot of things, but openly emotional wasn’t usually one of them. Except for lately, Rachel remembered once more. Apparently Mike Romo wasn’t the only one with some hidden layers.

“You just be sure to hold your head high and show ’em how wonderful you are,” Edna went on.

And Rachel simply said, “Stop it, Edna, you’re making me blush,” then threw an apple stem at her.

O
n Saturday afternoon, Rachel stood in front of the mirror in Edna’s spare bedroom looking at herself in a new dress. That’s when she realized. The mirror, the dress—this was just like Edna fifty years ago, with Giovanni. Maybe she was putting too much thought into this.

And then it hit her—hard. She
had
put some thought into this. She’d actually gone out and bought something new to wear. What had gotten into her?

Oh God. Are you losing part of yourself here? With Mike? With this town?

Maybe it was all of Edna’s reminiscing about Giovanni—maybe something about it was permeating her thoughts, her soul. Or maybe she wanted to make a nice impression on the Romo family for Edna’s sake. Because it had seemed totally natural when she’d gotten the bright idea to buy a dress for the occasion. The shopping, the selection she’d made, it had all seemed completely normal to her—until this very moment.

Still staring at her reflection, she let out a long breath.
This will be okay. It’s a pretty dress—you’ll wear it again…somewhere.
Even though it wasn’t her usual style. But mostly, it reminded her:
You can’t let this thing with Mike go on. You agreed to go to this party with him, but that’s it. No more sex. You can’t let yourself get any more enmeshed in this man or this town—or you won’t even recognize yourself anymore.

Just then, she heard Edna gasp from the next room, and walked out to see her grandmother holding back a ruffled curtain to peek out the window. Rather than waste time asking what was so gasp-worthy, Rachel joined her to peer out herself. Then
she
gasped, too. Mike Romo had just pulled up in a big, long, turquoise convertible with fins.

“God above,” Edna said, pressing a hand to her heart.

Rachel couldn’t believe it. “That’s Giovanni’s car, isn’t it?”

Edna nodded as they both kept staring. “I’d heard Mike ended up with it, but I sure didn’t know it was in such mint condition. That car looks just as good as it did the first time I rode in it.”

As Mike got out and slammed the door, Rachel yanked the curtain from Edna’s grasp and let it fall. “Don’t let him see us looking, for heaven’s sake.”

But Edna just laughed. “It’s a nice car—why wouldn’t we look?” Then she gave her head a mischievous, teasing sort of tilt. “And I hear he only brings it out for special occasions.”

“Shut up,” Rachel said, grabbing up her purse and sweater. “There’s nothing special going on between me and Mike Romo.”

When a light knock came on the not-often-used front door, she whisked it open to find Mike in blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As always, he looked good enough to jump on, sending a familiar prickling sensation down her spine.

“Jesus,” he murmured, looking her over.

“What?” she said, glancing down at her dress, sleeveless and feminine, in a bold flowered print. It had looked fine in the mirror a minute ago.

“Nothing—I just thought you’d be in jeans, like usual.”

She blinked, suddenly nervous. “Should I be? I can change. I wasn’t sure.”

But Officer Romeo shook his head. “No, it’s perfect. You look gorgeous.”

And Rachel nearly fainted. What was
with
him? And what was with
her
? Since when did he say such nice things to her? And since when did she let it make her feel so overcome?

“Hi, Edna,” Mike called over top of Rachel’s head—and yikes, since Edna was still in the room, she
would
think something special was going on now.

“Howdy, Mike. You two kids have a good time,” she said.

“We will,” he told her—then he took Rachel’s hand and led her from the house and out to the Cadillac. Like they were…a regular couple or something. On a regular date. She’d known this would be weird.

“Cool car,” she said, trying to act normal as he opened the door for her.

“It belonged to my grandfather. It’s a 1957 limited edition Eldorado Biarritz Cadillac.”

She was tempted to say she knew that already, but held her tongue.

“It’s a nice day, and I figured my dad’s family would enjoy seeing it.”

Like many cars from that era, it was a boat—the front seat seemed a mile wide, especially when Mike walked around and got behind the wheel. Three or four more people could have sat comfortably between them.

“So the dress is good?” she asked—or more like
yelled
across the wide seat to be heard. It was mostly to make conversation—but despite herself, she liked when he gave her another thorough perusal.

“Like I said, perfect,” he called back to her.

“I didn’t have anything like this with me, so I bought it at the Daisy Dress Shop in town.” It had seemed like the right thing for a Destiny soiree, like something Jenny or Sue Ann would wear—but it was still hitting her hard all of a sudden that she
wasn’t
Jenny or Sue Ann,
so why am I dressing like them?

As they crossed the bridge and turned out onto the highway, he said, “You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know.”

So she sent him a sideways glance. “Where should I sit?”

Taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds, he arched one brow to cast a playfully wolfish look, while he patted the seat right next to him.

Hmm. So Romo wanted her closer. Two seconds after they got in the car. One thing she could say for Officer Romeo—he wasn’t shy. Even as all her limbs went a little melty at the suggestion, she tried to resist. “Wouldn’t that be sort of high-schoolish?”

“Who cares? Right now it feels like you’re in the next county.”

“Fine,” she said, scooching over bit by bit. It wasn’t sex, after all—it was just sitting beside him. “But next thing I know, you’ll be wanting me to wear your class ring on a chain around my neck.”

He replied with an arrogant grin. “Not likely, Farris.”

Now that she was closer to him, growing aware of his familiar rugged scent and watching his hands on the old steering wheel—turquoise to match the car—he quit talking. He leaned across her knee to turn up the radio, fitted with an iPod adaptor—and Smokey Robinson’s “Cruisin’” filled the car. And within moments, it suddenly
seemed…well, as if Smokey knew exactly what she was starting to feel being practically
pressed up against
Mike now. Oh boy.

She’d heard this song her whole life, but she’d never realized until this minute how darn
sexy
it was. Of course, the fact that Mike Romo had just bent his torso warmly across her lap might have done something to make her a little more aware.

And as the old Cadillac smoothly hugged the road—well within the speed limit, of course—Smokey crooned about getting closer to every part of each other’s bodies, and Rachel began to feel even
more
melty, the lyrics seeming to seep into her skin while her thigh came into light contact with Mike’s. And then—oh my—Smokey cleverly dropped in the word
release
. She bit her lip, because she felt that word right between her legs, and stretching lushly up into her breasts. Yep, this song was about way more than driving. And unfortunately, sitting next to Mike was apparently about more than just sitting next to Mike, too.

She drew in her breath and wanted to look at him—but didn’t let herself.

God, what was it
about
this guy? Why wasn’t she thinking about Chase, like she’d promised herself she would back when this started? That resolution had lasted all of two seconds. And now, here she was, close enough to Mike to kiss him—and wanting to, that fast.

At the same time, though, she realized she also enjoyed…just being in the car with him, riding in a convertible on a beautiful fall day with the warmth of the sun on her face. The truth was, when she’d agreed to go to this party, she’d been so wrapped up in the weirdness of attending a Romo family function and the revelation that being with Mike made her feel like she didn’t know herself anymore that she hadn’t contemplated what this part would be like. The getting there. The being-on-a-date-with-Mike-
Romo. And to her surprise, so far, she liked it, damn it. And from what she could tell, so did some of her more sensitive body parts.

As the music continued, sort of making her want to lie down and make out with him somewhere, she kept watching his strong hands on the wheel. Strong,
good
hands. She knew from recent experience that he had
very
good hands. Then she dropped her gaze and enjoyed the way the denim stretched across his thigh. She liked feeling the simple “maleness” of him so near. Uh-oh—this was bad.

Finally, wondering if he was suffering similar sensual tugs, she stole a sideways glance at his handsome face.

“What?” he asked.

Crap—she’d been caught. Clearly, she was no good at being sneaky. She fudged a reply. “I was just wondering why it’s such a big deal for you to bring someone to this thing. Since you practically forced me, I mean.” For some reason, she still felt compelled to make it clear that he’d wanted this way more than she had.

“It’s for my parents’ sake, and the rest of my family.”

Oh. Swell. Not exactly, “I have to have you, Rachel!”
Way to kill my lust, Romo.

But wait, no, this was good. If it was purely for practical purposes, that made it a lot less…like a date. It was more like…one friend doing a favor for another. Or something.

“This’ll keep them from hounding me,” he went on. “They worry that I’m some lonely bachelor who’s never gonna settle down.”

“Are you?” she asked, lifting her gaze back to his face. He was unshaven again and it made her stomach flinch.

“Lonely?” He slanted her a
get-serious
look. “Hardly. The rest of it, though? Pretty much.”

Hmm, so Amy was right about him not being the settling-down type. “Good,” she said quickly.

“Good?”

Because I wouldn’t want you to think that bothers me. And I have no idea why it does, just a little
—she wasn’t that type, either, after all. But since she couldn’t tell him any of that, she smoothly covered with, “That way I know I don’t have to worry about you falling in love with me.”

Next to her, he let out a hardy laugh. “Don’t worry, Farris, you’re safe. I don’t fall in love.”

“
Finally
,” she replied, “something we have in common.” Despite the odd emotions she’d just been experiencing, it was the truth, and in a way it was a relief to find out they were completely like-minded on that.

Mike, however, just cast a doubtful look in her direction. “
All
women fall in love.”

She returned the cynical expression, making certain he read it loud and clear. “Not this one. There’s too much else to do. Like build my career.”

“And pick apples with Edna,” he pointed out.

So maybe the apple-picking thing didn’t mesh with the tough career girl image she was selling. Still, the tough career girl was the
real
her. Wasn’t it? She wasn’t
really
losing herself here, was she?

Stunned that she was even asking herself that question, she tried to shrug it off. “Well, you know how it is with family. Sometimes they need your help—and you give it.”

His next glance down at her was more gentle. “You sound almost human, Farris.”

And something low in her belly fluttered. Just because he was being nice to her? Or because somehow it all made her feel too…soft inside?

Well, enough with the softness. “Watch it, Romeo,” she said, “or you’ll start falling for me—hard.”

“Falling for you, no,” he said conclusively—then he raised one eyebrow. “Getting hard, though…maybe. You look too good in that dress.”

Oh. My. Yep, Officer Romeo never hesitated, but this one caught her off guard more than usual, and she lifted
her gaze to his to see that,
oh yeah
, he was feeling it, too. The whole seductive Smokey/Cruisin’ vibe. His look, and his words, moved all through her like something warm and liquid. Her lust had just been revived.

Just keep in control here. It’s a practical date between friends, that’s all. Keep it that way, Smokey or no Smokey.

Mike grew a little stiffer behind his zipper just from the expression on Rachel’s face, the way she sometimes managed to go from tough chick to sweet-and-sexy in a heartbeat. But as usual with her, he barely knew what was going on. It was bad enough he’d asked her to his grandma’s party—much worse that she was getting him hot. Again. This fast. Less than ten minutes after putting her in the car. What the hell was happening to him?

They were outside town now, on one of the many twisting two-lane roads that crisscrossed the area, and Mike found himself slowing down—and drinking her in a little more, with his eyes. Her warm, pink lips appeared a little pouty at the moment, like they needed to be kissed, and her gaze shone bluer, brighter than usual, beneath the sun. He’d never noticed those little flecks of light in her eyes before.

He was probably looking at her like he wanted to devour her, but when it came to Rachel, he’d quickly learned he wasn’t very good at putting the animal back in the cage—or Tarzan back in the trees. He still didn’t get it—but he couldn’t seem to fight it, either.

Just then, her expression changed again—to something wary. “This isn’t…some act of rebellion, is it? Bringing a Farris to the party to punish your family in some way?”

He lowered his chin. “Don’t be dumb. I told you before, I’m trying to get them off my back—not upset them.”

“But then why bring
me
? I mean, from what I hear, you can get any girl you want. And given my last name, I’m not exactly the obvious choice.”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe if I’m going to take a date to a family party, I want her to have half a brain. Not all the girls I know fit that description.”

She appeared blasé. “That I don’t doubt. And I happen to have a
whole
brain, for your information.” But then her expression edged back into sexy territory, where he liked it most. “Is that the
only
reason, though?” she asked, biting her lower lip in a way that drove him crazy. “Or is it…because you don’t quite have me out of your system yet?”