CHAPTER 30 #2
Ian parked the Harley and made his way inside the festively decorated space, where the celebratory group chatted and laughed around a bountiful buffet.
“Hey, man.” Devon slapped him on the back. “I hear you’re finally taking some time off.”
Ian eyed the arch of black and gold balloons, his mouth watering at the scents of prime rib and roast chicken. “Affirmative. But I’ll be back Monday.”
“Monday?” Devon shook his head. “That’s it? You’re taking five whole days? Wow.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “And I thought Adam had the malfunctioning off button. Looks as if yours was never installed.” He smiled devilishly. “I take it you’ve straightened out things with your hot redhead?”
Ian couldn’t contain his smile. “We’re working on it.”
“I’ll bet.” Devon grinned. “And quite a workout, from the looks of it.”
Ian raised an eyebrow.
Devon laughed. “You have the look of a guy who got properly laid. Congratulations, man. Long overdue.”
From the left side of the hangar, his parents approached, and Ian shot Devon a warning look. Even from a distance, he could see that tight expression his mother’s face took on when something was amiss.
“Whoa.” Devon took one look at Ian’s parents and stepped back. “Gonna go grab some of that beef. Want anything?”
“Thanks, I’ll go get some myself in a minute.” He tried to keep from frowning as his parents came to stand before him.
“Hey, son.” His dad sported that worry line between his eyebrows, the one that always appeared when he was about to give a serious lecture. It had deepened with age, making his seldom-seen scowl even more concerning. “Your mother and I would like a word with you.”
Mom nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.
What the …
Ian’s gaze snapped to the buffet, where Adam stood, a heaping plate of food in his hand. Ian narrowed his eyes on him, but his brother deliberately refused to meet his gaze, unnecessarily concentrating on a slice of beef.
Ah, shit.
Ian grimaced. “Adam told you.”
His mother stared at him. “He did. It should have been you.”
“When were you going to tell us about this invasive procedure you’re about to undergo?” Dad asked.
Ian tried a crooked smile. “After.”
“Vennen,” his mother demanded, “hvorfor gj?r du dette?”
Uh-oh. Nothing good ever came when she brought out the Norwegian. If he didn’t end it now, she’d be convincing him not to go through with it.
“I’m doing this because I want to, Mom,” he replied in English. “It’s no big deal, really.”
“No big deal? They’re going to punch a needle through your pelvis!”
Her voice was trembling. His stomach dropped.
Women crying were tough for him to take, but when Mom did it, it pushed his discomfort level to intolerable.
“It’ll be fine. I’ve gone through all the medical testing, everything is good, and I can donate.
It sounds scarier than it is. I can send you some information if you want. ”
“What I want is for you not to put yourself through this.”
Ian went quiet. Nothing to say. He reached and wrapped his arms around his mom in a tight hug. “You worry too much.”
“I’m your mother! It’s my job to worry!”
Ian had to chuckle at that. She’d been saying it to him ever since he hit puberty and thought he didn’t need her to hover anymore. “It’ll be OK, I promise.”
She swallowed hard. “If anything happens to you …”
“Nothing will happen to me.” He threw imaginary daggers at Adam, who stared right back, his expression as impassive as always. “See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. He goes and sends you two to try and change my mind.”
“Is it working?” Mom asked hopefully.
“Mom—”
“It looks to me as if you’ve already made up your mind.” His dad studied him, his light blue eyes filled with defeat.
“I have.”
“You’ve always been too selfless for your own good,” Mom muttered.
“I learned from the best.” Smiling, he put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about. I will be sore for a little while, that’s all. Most people go back to work in a couple of days.”
“You’re not most people,” she mumbled.
“Yes, Mom. I love you too.” Ian smiled. “I’m starving. Let’s go do some damage to Adam’s buffet.”
·
Claire
“Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Claire glanced over at her mother, who sat upright in the hospital bed.
She tried not to look at her nearly bald head, which, lately, Mom had taken to covering with bright, colorful scarves.
This week’s round was, hopefully, the last chemo she’d ever have to endure.
Ever the trooper, Mom conversed with good humor, wanting to know all the details about Sylvia’s wedding.
“And how was the rest of your time in Las Vegas?”
Claire knew what she was asking. An image of Ian’s handsome face flashed across her mind, and she couldn’t suppress a smile. “It was good.”
“I have a feeling it was more than just good. Tell me about this man who put that kind of smile on your face.”
How could she possibly describe him? Claire reached for the water bottle on the overbed table and took a sip. “What do you want to know?”
“Does he make you happy?”
She had expected the usual questions about his profession, his family, his past, his looks. But not this.
Claire considered for a moment. She couldn’t think of any encounter with Ian that didn’t make her feel …
Something tightened in her chest, and butterflies burst inside her belly.
Ian did make her happy, and that was an understatement. Which was why it was so difficult to face the complex feelings she had for the man.
“Yes, he does.” For some insane reason, tears stung Claire’s eyes. She blinked, stunned at her powerful reaction to the simple question.
To her distress, her mother noticed. “What is it, honey?”
Claire swallowed the lump rising in her throat. And finally faced what she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“What are you scared of?”
“Of what I feel … of what he makes me feel. It’s so easy to be with him. He’s almost too good to be true. I’m scared that if I …” She sucked in a breath. “I’ve seen it countless times. Things are always good until they’re not.”
Mom frowned. “This is my fault,” she murmured.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is. I put that fear there, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself for setting such a bad example. But nothing is guaranteed, and I think seeking happiness is worth the risk. And the only way you can do that is to risk being completely cut open.”
Claire nodded slowly. Ian had pretty much said the same thing.
A long pause. “Are you OK with losing him?”
Oh my God.
“Don’t answer that. Just think about it. You’ll come to your own conclusion. I’d really like to meet him. From what Sylvia told me, he’s quite the catch.” Her mother reached to gently pat Claire’s hand. “When you’re ready, of course. No rush.”
Claire nodded. Having Ian meet her mother would mean another level of commitment, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that yet.
“Do you have a picture?”
Claire pulled out her phone. She had several from the wedding, and she thumbed through to one where he was in the middle of the groomsmen’s dance.
Her mother studied the photo for a long moment. “Oh, my. I’m going to have beautiful grandchildren,” she murmured.
Claire’s eyes widened, but before she could reply, Mom said, “We need to talk about your father.”
Claire inwardly groaned. It looked as if the discomfort-causing topics would continue.
“What is there to talk about?”
“Your relationship.”
“We don’t have one.”
“Would you like for that to change?”
Claire gripped the phone tighter, scowling. “Just because the two of you reconnected doesn’t mean I have to do anything. It’s too much, Mom. Too much has happened, and even though you told me why, I’m not sure I can just forget, let alone forgive. He didn’t only leave you.”
He left me.
“I understand.” Her mother regarded her for a few beats.
“And I owe you more than just an apology. I messed up my own life and, in doing so, deprived you of your father. For that, I may never forgive myself. I wish things could have been better—or at least different. Please don’t let my mistakes prevent you from building a relationship with your father.
I can’t change the past, but I can ask for your forgiveness so that we can move forward, for your sake and for his.
” Nora paused, blinking hard. “Will you at least talk to him? He wants to take you golfing this afternoon.”
Claire’s heart squeezed painfully.
“I’m driving the golf cart, Daddy! I’m really doing it!”
Her father chuckled. “Yes, you are, Pumpkin. I’m going to have to buy you a car soon.”
It was her favorite thing to do: spend time with him on the golf course, the little time he had for her.
Was she ready for this? She couldn’t say but didn’t want to outright refuse and upset her mother.
“I’ll think about it.” She took her mom’s hand.
Nora sought her gaze. “Forgive me?”
Claire squeezed Mom’s fingers. “I forgive you, Mama.”
Eventually.
Nora’s eyes welled. “I can’t remember the last time you called me that.”
Carefully, Claire moved to hug her, and Nora held her for a long time, sniffing.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said softly.
Claire sighed and didn’t contradict her. It would take time for her to come to terms with what her mother had done and to adjust to this new normal.
“There’s something else.”
Claire leaned back to look at her mother, who seemed nervous all of a sudden.
“OK.” She waited.
Her mom’s hand shook slightly as she reached inside the neckline of her gown and pulled out a gold chain. Something caught the light, throwing glittering multicolored specks all over the wall and ceiling.
Claire stared at the two swinging rings. She recognized that wedding band set.
Her gaze snapped to her mom’s. “What’s this?”
“I can’t wear them. My fingers are too swollen.” Mom’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “Your father has asked me to marry him again.”