CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
[MESSAGES]
Tess: I might have mentioned Gideon to Mom by mistake.
Kate: How do you mention something BY MISTAKE?
Tess: My brain does it all the time.
Kate: What have you done?
Tess: Save your freakout. It gets worse.
Kate: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Tess: Mom might have visited the library last night when Gideon was there with story hour.
Kate: No.
Tess: She might have invited him to family lunch this Sunday.
Kate: Please tell me he said no.
Tess: And he might have accepted her invitation.
Kate: And I might be coming to your house later to do damage.
I march over to Gideon’s house and rap sharply on his door. The sky is all gradients of gray, like my mood.
“Tess tells me you accepted my mom’s invitation to a family lunch this Sunday,” I say without preamble the moment he opens the door.
“Hello to you too, Kate,” he says easily, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorjamb. “And yes, I did accept her invitation.”
“Why?”
It’s not that I mind Gideon meeting the rest of my family. It’s just... He feels a little like a freight train charging through my life, sweeping Tess up at one station, securing the affection of my daughter at another, and now he’s speeding into yet another station to collect more family members whom he will no doubt charm. Meanwhile, I’m clinging to a seat on the train, still trying to catch my breath as it hurtles down the tracks.
Before Gideon has a chance to reply, Uno comes racing down the hallway. I point my finger at him and order, “Stop!” I’m not normally a finger-pointing person, but this occasion calls for it. The greyhound comes to an abrupt halt, still wagging his tail and panting, but no longer running. I’m kind of impressed with myself.
I return my attention to Gideon and raise my eyebrows, waiting for his answer.
He gives me a half smile. “Your mom is very persuasive. She told me she makes a fantastic lasagna.”
“Her lasagna is legendary,” I concede.
“It also happens to be one of my comfort foods.” The light catches in his hazel eyes as he stares at me. “How about we drive there together?”
“What?” I’m still coming to terms with his presence at a family lunch. Now he’s trying to throw in a car ride as well? “No.”
“Why not?”
His question takes me by surprise. I didn’t anticipate him challenging me. “What if you want to leave early?”
“That would be rude.”
“What if I want to leave early?”
“That would also be rude.”
I huff. “You seem obsessed with manners today.”
“I place a high value on manners,” he agrees. “So do you, given that I’ve observed you repeatedly emphasizing them to Lisset.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, playing the kid card. You’re pulling out all the stops.”
Something sparkles in his eyes. “I also feel, quite strongly I might add, that we should do our bit for the planet and drive there together.”
“Ah, the climate change card. You’re holding quite the hand.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent poker player.”
“I don’t doubt it. Well, I do strive to be a more conscientious global citizen,” I inform him solemnly, playing along. “I accept your offer.”
“I promise we’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” I focus on straightening my shirt that doesn’t require straightening. “By the way, where did you learn to iron?”
“My mom. She insisted ironing is a life skill.”
“I never thanked you.”
“You’re thanking me now.”
I turn to go, but his next words stop me in my tracks.
“Ready to go on a date with me yet?”
I pull my lips between my teeth to hide a smile. “We’re going on a date. I’m driving with you to my parents’ house.”
He frowns. “That doesn’t count.”
“It does in my books.” My expression is all mischief. “A Straight Flush, Mister High-Stakes Poker Player.”
On Sunday, I spend more time than usual getting ready. I apply a light blush to my cheeks and use my curling iron to add a soft wave to my brown hair, which is now just past my shoulders. I pick up my eyeliner, then put it down again. Too dramatic and obvious for a lunch. Also, I have Tess’s voice in my head telling me my eyes are so dark and expressive they don’t need eyeliner.
At the very last minute, I change out of the jeans and T-shirt I was intending to wear and slip into a floral maxi dress, throwing a denim jacket over it. I tell myself I’m dressing for a temperamental spring day in April, and I almost believe the lie.
Gideon is waiting in my driveway when I step out of the house.
His eyes drink me in and he says nothing for five excruciating seconds.
“You look breathtaking,” he says in a low, rough voice.
He’s wearing black cargo pants and a white shirt that clings to his muscles like an adoring fan. But it’s the naked desire flaring his pupils that traps the air in my lungs. His hands fist at his sides, as though he’s exerting all his willpower to restrain them from grabbing me and pulling me up against him and dragging his lips across—
“Hi, Gideon!”
Lisset’s voice breaks the spell. I blink, like I’m coming out of a trance.
“Do you like my dress?” she asks, twirling to show off her lavender jersey dress.
“Very pretty,” he compliments her. He opens the back door of his Jeep and tips an imaginary hat. “Your carriage, my princess.”
She laughs in delight and clambers inside. He closes her door and moves to open the car door for me. But I’m already there and reaching for the door handle.
The tips of his fingers brush against the back of my hand. They linger there and I feel the charged vibration of that whisper of a touch dance its way across my skin.
His eyes find mine. “Allow me.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out, pinned by the knowing look in those eyes.
“My pleasure.”
His proximity, the alluring smell of his soap, and the way that word pleasure rolls on his tongue leave me boneless. He’s activated something between us and there’s not a rational thought in my brain right now.
Just as I’m about to slide into his car, he whispers in my ear, “Royal Flush, my Queen.”
It’s the hand that trumps a straight flush.
He’s treating this car ride like the date I insisted it would be. It dawns on me then that I’m playing against a man who’s mastered a game I’m still trying to learn.
Gideon parks on the street and we walk toward my parents’ house together. Lisset skips ahead of us. I glance over at the bouquet of pink peonies he’s brought my mom. His thoughtfulness will capture her loyalty right off the bat.
“Flowers,” I remark as we make our way up the walkway. “You are such a charmer.”
“All part of my diabolical plan to win your family over.”
“You’ve never given me flowers,” I point out.
“You’re not a flowers person.”
“You’re right.” I’m reluctantly impressed. “Was that a wild guess?”
“An educated one.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Educate me then.”
“You’re a practical person. Flowers might be pretty, but they aren’t practical.”
“What would I prefer?” I ask, unable to resist testing him.
His eyes narrow and I can tell he’s giving my question serious consideration. “A potted plant. A hanging basket. Something pretty, but also something that won’t die in a few days.”
Quiet falls between us.
He knows me .
The front door flings open and Tess stands there, hands on her hips. “WHERE’S MY GORGEOUS NIECE?”
I wince.
Lisset hurries up the steps and throws her arms around her aunt. Tess greets Gideon, but her attention is on me. She can’t stop blinking in shock at my outfit.
“Are you planning on letting us in?” I ask pointedly since she’s still absently blocking the doorway.
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
She steps aside and Lisset leads Gideon down the hallway to the kitchen, chattering nonstop.
Once they’re out of earshot, I whisper, “It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not just a dress and you know it,” she whispers back.
I do. I haven’t worn a dress in years. It feels like a symbol.
“You look beautiful,” she chokes out. Her eyes possess a suspicious sheen.
“Don’t cry!” I order her.
“I’ll cry if I want to!”
Like a great white shark, Mom appears in the hallway. “What are you two whispering about?” she barks. Then her gaze lands on me. “You’re wearing a dress!” she exclaims, hand over her heart.
Honestly, maybe if I’d arrived in a bikini it would have been less attention-grabbing.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I tell her in a hushed voice, not wanting a certain someone to know how out of character it is for me to be wearing a dress.
But it’s too late. Because when I wander into the kitchen Gideon looks up from his conversation with my dad and Aaron on the back patio and gives me a soft, private smile. And I know that he knows.
“How’s it going with Lisset and her reading difficulties?” my grandmother asks, just as my mom hands me the salad to finish off.
I chop up peppers and a cucumber while I update them on Gideon’s idea to involve Lisset in the Reading Dog Program by helping him prepare Uno for his workday. Part of that preparation, I tell them, includes reading out loud to Uno. Lisset read one page yesterday and has agreed to read to him again next Saturday.
“As Gideon says, one step at a time,” I conclude, setting down my knife.
Grandma eyes me speculatively. “He seems like quite a clever man.”
“Handsome too,” Tess throws in.
“And interesting,” Mom adds. “We had a lovely conversation when I bumped into him in the library.”
I’m so tempted to roll my eyes. Bumped into . As if she didn’t purposefully drive to the library on a day when she knew Gideon would be there.
When the lasagna is ready, we move to the dining table. I’m relieved to note Aaron and Gideon seem to be getting along better than the last time they saw one another. Aaron even manages a glimmer of a smile in response to something Gideon says.
When Gideon takes a seat next to me, Grandma’s eyes gleam in a way that has my nerves on high alert.
“Oh, dear, I forgot my glasses,” she announces as we pass the food around the table. “Katherine, please fetch them for me, will you?”
Opposite me, Tess sucks in a breath. Everyone else freezes before quickly behaving as though they didn’t hear Grandma’s request, except they’re all bad actors in a terribly scripted movie.
I glare at my grandmother, who looks innocently back at me.
“It’s Kate , Grandma,” I tell her.
Gideon straightens in his chair. I feel his interest in this revelation like a blanketing heat wave.
“Oh, what did I say?” Grandma asks guilelessly.
“You called her Katherine ,” Gideon supplies. Unhelpfully, I might add.
“I did?” Grandma attempts a look of confusion, but I know she is sharp as a tack.
“Yes, you did.”
“My mistake,” she says smoothly.
Mistake? Please. What’s with everybody today?
“I can fetch your glasses, GG,” Lisset offers eagerly, scraping back her chair.
Grandma motions her to stay seated. “Don’t worry, child. I just realized I can see the food perfectly fine without them.”
Tess snorts a laugh and I grit my teeth, biting back my reply.
At one point in the meal, when everyone is engaged in different pockets of conversation, Gideon inclines his head at me. “So, Katherine, huh?”
“Nope. There is no Katherine. There is only Kate.”
“Your grandmother called you Katherine.”
“My grandmother is confused.” Only when it suits her, though.
“I like the name Katherine.”
Why does he keep repeating it? “Please feel free to adopt it then.”
“Why don’t you like it?”
All my attempts at humor fade. “That name belongs to a different person in a different lifetime.”
His eyes hold mine. “Maybe she hasn’t vanished. At least, not completely.”
Yes, she has. Katherine of the past was soft and feminine, fun and frivolous, floating through life until... Well, until it all fell apart. Present Kate, however, is a briskly efficient survivor.
Gideon leaves me be and shifts in his chair to engage my dad in a conversation about his time in the construction industry. Except his shifting has angled his body so that his arm presses against mine. I feel the warm, solid strength of him through his shirt.
Now that I think about it, he’s been doing this throughout the meal. Small, accidental touches that he’s turned into an art form. His knee brushing mine under the table. His fingers grazing my skin whenever he passes me something.
Every touch feels like a kiss. A tiny thrill of connection.
After lunch, my dad retreats to the bedroom to lie down for a bit. My mom, Grandma, and Lisset wander off to the living room to discuss some kind of sewing project, and Gideon and Aaron insist on cleaning up in the kitchen. Tess and I are alone at the table.
“You know what I’ve noticed about Gideon,” Tess says, wasting no time. “That man uses every excuse to touch you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I bluff.
“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she retorts. “But do you know what’s even more surprising than Gideon’s little touches?”
“I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
“What’s surprising is that you allow it.”
She’s right. Somehow, I’ve grown not to mind his casual familiarity with me. Of course, I can’t admit that to Tess.
“What do you expect me to do?” I ask instead.
“Well, your usual reaction would be to death stare him or break his arm.”
“If I break his arm, I’ll have the inconvenience of driving him to the hospital. Why create a problem I’ll have to fix?”
“You’re all big talk,” she accuses. “I see the way he looks at you. And the way you’re with him. There’s a connection between the two of you. Admit it.”
I stare at her, thinking how acutely aware I am of Gideon’s every smile, every lingering look, the way he moves around a room. And then I say, “You’re right, there is a connection.”
Tess’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe you admitted to it.”
“I can’t believe it either,” I mutter.
She gives a tiny hand clap. “This is so romantic! Your ship name can be Gate .” She deflates a little. “Actually, that’s sort of a lame name.”
It’s as though my sister speaks another language sometimes. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s when you put parts of two names together to create a relationship nickname,” she explains. “Like—”
I wave an irritated hand in the air. “I got it.”
When everyone returns to the table, Tess offers to make coffee and Gideon stands to help her. After the two of them disappear into the kitchen, my imagination runs riot picturing them alone together, Tess with her runaway mouth and Gideon with his unquenchable interest. My skin itches, like I’m about to break out in hives.
I attempt to distract myself by helping Aaron and Lisset with the waterfall puzzle they’re piecing together at the table, but it’s not working. After a couple of minutes, I get to my feet.
“I’m just going to check if they need help bringing out the coffees,” I say to no one in particular.
Aaron shoots me a knowing look. “Uh-huh.”
As I approach the kitchen, I hear the murmur of voices and then I hear my name mentioned. I knew it! My steps falter slightly while I debate what to do. Nothing good ever comes from eavesdropping. At least that’s Grandma’s claim. I should heed her warning and leave, but the pull of my curiosity is too great.
“You really like Kate?” I hear Tess ask.
Gideon’s voice reaches me, low and quiet. “I really do.”
My heart is pounding. They say something else, but they’re moving around and I struggle to hear. I inch a little closer.
“Have you always had rescue dogs?” Tess asks.
“I have.”
“And the work you do with Uno, it’s helping children to read? Children who struggle?”
“Yes.”
Tess is leading somewhere with these questions. Judging from his short answers, Gideon seems to sense it too.
“Is that why you’re drawn to Kate?”
A weighted pause. “What do you mean?”
“You’re clearly a rescuer,” Tess explains. “I’m trying to understand if you’re attracted to Kate because you’re drawn to broken things.”
My stomach drops. Could there be some measure of truth to Tess’s statement? Am I Gideon’s charity case? I hold my breath waiting for his answer.
“Kate’s not broken,” Gideon says softly. “She may be a little damaged, but she’s not broken.”
“But you want to fix her,” Tess insists.
“She doesn’t need me to fix her,” he replies. “She’s capable of doing that on her own. I want to help her see that she’s strong enough.”
I’m rooted to the spot hearing Gideon’s quiet confidence in me. The man believes in me. He simply wants me to believe in myself.
Something strange is happening to my heart. It’s beating so hard against the confines of my ribcage, as if it wants to break free and soar.
At the table, while we’re drinking our coffee, Tess is telling us about the movie, Where the Crawdads Sing . Apparently, they watched it last night and it made such an impact she feels compelled to describe it to us in detail. It’s almost as bad as people giving a blow-by-blow account of their dreams. Tess is trying to explain the ending, but her voice keeps cracking and tears are pooling in her eyes. “And then Kya is really old and living at her home in the Marsh and there’s her mother and...”
It’s become increasingly difficult to work out what Tess is trying to say. She’s gasping and sniffling and her voice is now so high-pitched it’s beyond the range of human comprehension.
Aaron places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to explain the ending?”
“I can do it,” she insists, but then she starts wailing.
I try hard not to roll my eyes, but, come on, it’s a movie.
And Tess, with her super-sensitive sister radar, picks up on my feelings and turns on me. “It’s normal to cry in a movie, Kate.”
“For some people.”
“For most people.”
“I don’t cry in movies.”
“You don’t cry period,” she retorts.
“Mom cries,” Lisset insists while removing a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.
I freeze, my cup halfway to my mouth.
Tess waves a dismissive hand. “Crying when you’re cutting onions doesn’t count.”
“Mom cries in the shower,” Lisset announces matter-of-factly as she chooses another puzzle piece. “I sometimes hear her even though she doesn’t want me to know.”
Everyone is very still around the table.
I put my coffee cup down carefully. I should know there are no secrets when children are a part of your life. They spill everything, especially the stuff you don’t want anyone to know. And they do it so innocently, unaware of the grenade they’ve tossed and the wreckage they’ve caused.