Grady's Wedding Page 18

  The phone rang, and Paul went to answer it. None of the rest of them budged from around the baby. James and Nancy Monroe, having been exercising their grandparently rights for the past ten days, were content to let the newcomers have front-row positions. Even April looked curiously at the tiny person.

  “Bette, it’s Judi on the phone from Yellowstone,” Paul announced from the doorway. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh, good. It seems like I’ve been napping every time Judi’s called,” she explained. She turned to Leslie, sitting next to her. “Will you hold Anna?”

  Grady saw something flash across Leslie’s eyes, but her voice was perfectly calm. “Of course.”

  With an emotion he couldn’t define, Grady watched her open her arms, and the baby settle there as if she understood their security. Restless, he moved to the far side of the porch; couldn’t have everybody crowding the baby.

  “April, why don’t you come sit beside me,” Leslie invited.

  Her expression mixing reluctance and fascination, April sat on the edge of the settee.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby this young,” said Tris. “Have you, April?”

  “No.”

  Leslie said something more to her in a low voice that Grady didn’t pick up, but he saw its effect as April relaxed enough to comment on Anna’s squirming. She even gauged the strength of those baby kicks against her hand, and smiled at the sensation.

  From across the room he studied Leslie. A woman who could make a baby feel secure, who could make a troubled girl smile, who could make a man . . . feel loved.

  Loved.

  With this woman perhaps he could build the loving family he wanted, but hadn’t trusted himself to try for.

  He’d always known he wasn’t much good at loving— genes or environment, what did it matter, the result was the same. But Leslie . . . Leslie was loving enough for both of them, loving enough to make up for his lack. Maybe even loving enough to teach him.

  Watching Leslie hold the baby, he let himself dream for the first time of a future with her.

  * * * *

  Grady, Tris and Michael took Leslie and April sightseeing Saturday with an agenda unlike any tour company’s. They drove past the schoolyard where Grady first met Paul over a bloody nose. They saw the harbor where the friends learned to sail. In Evanston, they visited Northwestern’s campus, where Grady and Paul had met up with Michael, and later Tris. They stopped for midday sustenance at a little place Grady, which just happened to be across the street from Wrigley Field.

  Once in the city, they saw more traditional sights—the Water Tower, the Wrigley Building, the Art Institute, Grant Park, Buckingham Fountain and Sears Tower. But even the thrilling view struck Leslie as anticlimactic after the emotional landmarks of the morning.

  But Grady hadn’t taken them to the house he grew up in and still his parents’ official residence. She’d asked, and he’d shrugged it off.

  Returning to the Monroes’ in Lake Forest, they found Paul, Bette and Anna already there for the evening’s cookout. When Anna grew sleepy, that was no problem, since her grandparents had designated one bedroom as hers, and it was nearly as well equipped as her nursery at home.

  Paul and Bette didn’t stay very late, but the rest sat on the Monroes’ patio, talking while lightning bugs came and went. Leslie noticed that April seemed strangely content to stay with the grown-ups. But then maybe this was one of the few times she’d been included in the conversation naturally, rather than being ignored or spotlighted with questions.

  Relaxed in a way she’d seldom seen him, Grady’s fondness for the Monroes showed clearly. It made his estrangement from his parents all the sadder to her.

  When the evening broke up, Grady caught her in the hall around the corner from the room she was sharing with April for a kiss that a half hour later left her lying in bed feeling dissatisfied and worried. If stopping with a kiss made her feel this bad, how was it going to be when there were no kisses?

  She had to get used to it, that’s all. Starting tomorrow, she would avoid being alone with Grady, avoid opportunities for the kisses and touches that made her want more. She would start getting used to not having him.

  After Sunday brunch on the Monroes’ patio, her new resolve received its first test—and flunked.

  “Leslie and I are going for a drive,” Grady announced, taking her hand and leading her toward the driveway. “We’ll meet you at Paul and Bette’s about two.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “It’s all right. I promise we’ll be back in time for me to help move that furniture Paul and Bette need upstairs, and then we can all get to the Monroes’ before Mrs. M. tries to fix a meal that could satisfy the entire roster of the Chicago Bears,” he said, reassuring her about the wrong thing. “I have something I want to show you. Something I hope you’ll want to see.”

  Her protest died right there. His family’s home, that’s where he was taking her. He’d thought about it since yesterday and decided . . . to go the opposite direction.

  They were headed south, but Mrs. M. had definitely pointed to the north when she’d mentioned where Grady’s family lived.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He grinned.

  “We’re not going to see where you grew up?”

  Stupid question, Leslie. And the wrong question; she knew that even before his grin faded.

  She didn’t have the heart to ask about their destination after that, so they drove in silence, past Evanston into the city. Short of downtown, though, he left Lake Shore Drive and made a couple turns before pulling into a driveway that dipped dramatically under a tall building and opened into a forest of parking spots. He pulled into one and stopped the car.

  “I told you I had something to show you.”

  The grin was trying to return, so she played to his humor. Anything to erase the bleakness her mention of his family home had spawned.

  “An underground garage? Not too thrilling, Grady.”

  “It’s what’s above the ground that’s thrilling. About eighteen floors above the ground, to be exact.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “My apartment. That’s what I brought you to see.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her. “More specifically, my bedroom.” And kissed her again. “More specifically still, my bed.” He ran the back of his fingers down her throat and just under the collar of her blouse. “Want to see my engravings?”

  She laughed a little shakily. “You don’t really have engravings, do you?”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted to use that line. I’ve been saving it for the right woman.”

  “I’m flattered.” Flattered and a little stunned by the heat in his eyes, which told a much stronger message than any words he said. “But I shouldn’t stay. I thought this was going to be a short trip.” She hurried on, avoiding the reminder of where she’d thought they were going. “I shouldn’t leave April on her own with the Monroes. It’s not fair to them—-”

  “They love having her around.”

  “Or to April.”

  “They’ll look after her.”

  “I know that, that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, then?”

  “We already dragged her off on this trip, to see a lot of people she didn’t know, and then we go off and leave her. April hates getting shunted around like so much excess baggage."

  He looked at her curiously. “She told you that?”

  “No. But it stands to reason, doesn’t it? It’s what her mother does to her all the time. And I think it’s part of why she’s so wary of staying with me. She’s not sure if I want her around or if she’s been foisted off on me.”

  “I can guarantee that Mrs. M. won’t treat April as if she’s been foisted off on her. Mrs. M. loves kids. And you know Tris and Michael will be nice to her.”

  “I know, but—”

  “We haven’t been alone in a long time, Leslie. Who knows whe
n the next time might come. If you don’t want to make love . . . Well, I just want to be with you.”

  It had been a long time, and the next time might never come. She had to tell him the truth, and she had to do it soon. Resolve be damned. She was human; she wanted this time with him. Perhaps this one last time.

  “I want to be with you, too, Grady. And I want to make love with you. I want it very much.”

  * * * *

  Grady held her hand for most of the drive back to Paul and Bette’s house. The first time the steering wheel required both of his hands, she’d started to pull hers away, but he’d snatched it back and pressed it against his thigh, where it remained until he could fold it in his hand again. After that she hadn’t tried to withdraw.

  Maybe she’d needed the continued connection, too.

  He wished he knew why he needed it so badly.

  He thought about that as he helped Paul and Michael maneuver four cumbersome bookcases up two flights of stairs to the third-floor room being outfitted as a home office. The cases weren’t unbearably heavy, but avoiding banging up walls, railings or shelves took teamwork.

  The women were indulging in teamwork, too—shopping. He’d watched Leslie go off with Tris, Bette and April to find Bette post-pregnancy clothes, and he’d wanted to call her back.

  What was the matter with him?

  Their lovemaking had been as hot, strong and satisfying as ever. Only he couldn’t shake this feeling that there’d been an undercurrent of sadness to it. He couldn’t pin it down to anything Leslie said or did, not even a look in her eyes. But it left him wanting to hold on to her hand as long as he could.

  He wondered what she’d say if she knew how he felt about her hands. How he loved to watch them, especially on him. How their touch drove him crazier than the rub of skin against skin could possibly explain. How he imagined sometimes that they were strong enough and gentle enough to hold someone’s heart.

  Laugh at him—no, she wouldn’t laugh at someone else’s emotion. Though she might raise that one brow of hers in slow-motion surprise. He wouldn’t mind that so much, because there’d also be understanding in her eyes.

  Those hands of hers . . .

  Why did he fear that if he let her hand go for a moment, the next time he reached for it, it would be gone?

  * * * *

  “Where did they go?” Tris, the first one through the door, looked around the empty porch. “I heard Michael.”

  Right behind her, Leslie gave the three partly empty beer bottles on the table a quick look. “Looks to me as if they’re celebrating a job well done.”

  Bette joined them, surveying the scene. “Or commiserating on a disaster,” she said, glancing up as if she might be able to see through ceilings and floors to any disasters awaiting her upstairs.

  “I considered that,” said Leslie, doggedly keeping the humor in her voice. It hadn’t been easy. Whatever progress she’d thought April had made over the past weeks seemed an illusion now, as the girl lapsed into limp indifference to everything around her. On top of that she’d caught both Tris and Bette eyeing her with concern. “But I think there’d be a few broken bodies strewn around in that case.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I could have sworn I heard Michael’s voice out here,” Tris insisted. “Though it was awfully soft.”

  “You think she’s cracking up?” Leslie asked the increasingly silent April, the reluctant tail of their group now, as she had been all during the shopping trip.

  “Dunno,” was the only response.

  “I heard him.”

  “You probably did,” said Bette. She held up a plastic gadget about the size of her hand. “Through this. It’s the baby monitor. We can hear any sounds in her room, but noise where we are won’t disturb her— Listen.”

  She turned a tiny knob and they all heard the rhythmic creak of a rocking chair, then Michael’s voice.

  “Hey, this isn’t all that hard.”

  “Yeah?” Grady teased. “Then how come you turned stark white and had to wipe your hands on your pants before Paul handed her to you.”

  “Sounds like you want to be next,” said Paul.

  “Oh, no, wait a minute, I didn’t say—” The women grinned at one another at the change in Grady’s voice. Beneath her grin, though, Leslie felt a strong pull of sadness.

  “Sure sounded to me like somebody itching to hold a baby. Here, Paul, you take the baby so I can get up, and Roberts can have his turn.”

  Tris giggled softly. “He’s got the hang of it, but he won’t try to stand up holding her!”

  Muffled sounds of movement mingled with Grady’s protests.

  “I have got to see this,” said Bette. “C’mon. Just watch out for the second step from the top. It squeaks.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” promised Tris. “I wish I’d seen Michael holding her, but you’re right, this will be too good to be missed.”

  Leslie followed Bette and Tris, needing to see and wishing she didn’t.

  Upstairs, they silently made their way to the open nursery door. April hadn’t followed, and her conscience pushed at her to find the girl. But across the room, Grady was seated in the rocking chair, his total attention focused on the bit of humanity Paul held out to him, and she couldn’t make herself leave.

  “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

  Michael chuckled wickedly, and Grady cursed under his breath, then added a hurried apology to Anna, which made both Paul and Michael laugh.

  Michael spotted the added spectators but heeded their fingers-to-lips signal, and the lesson went on.

  “Just open your right hand and put it in your lap, and open your left hand and put it up a little bit,” instructed Paul. “Good. Okay, now . . . Relax your hands, Roberts— I’m not going to drive spikes through them. Okay. There!”

  “Omigod.” Grady seemed to barely breathe the word, but Leslie thought it sliced right to her heart.

  “You are now officially holding a baby,” announced Michael.

  “And doing very well,” said Bette, stepping into the room.

  “Bravo!” Tris called softly. She went directly to Michael, slipping an arm around his waist as he looped his around her shoulders. “And it sounded as if you’re well on your way to becoming a baby-holding virtuoso yourself, Michael.”

  Amid explanations of how they’d heard part one of the lesson and merciless teasing of both Michael and Grady, led by Paul, Grady started to gently rock, looking down at the baby in his arms. The tension had disappeared; he looked like a natural holding a baby, and Leslie wanted to find a refuge where she could let the tears slide down her cheeks. Instead she smiled at the jokes, and tried not to openly stare at Grady and Anna.

  “All right, I think we’ve taken enough abuse here,” Michael finally declared. “Let’s talk about what happened when the first sound came over that baby squawk box.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary. Not necessary at—”

  “Sure it is, Paul. I think the ladies would be very interested to hear how you leaped out of your chair—”

  “Probably have a dent in the porch ceiling from his head,” Grady interposed without looking up.

  “—hurdled the chaise longue and ran down the hall so fast that when he tried to make the turn for the stairs he almost slid right out the front door, then thundered up the stairs like an elephant stampeding. Then he screeches to a halt outside the nursery and tiptoes in—as if Anna might not have heard him!”

  When the laughter died down enough that he could be heard, Paul retorted, “Let me point out that these two clowns wouldn’t have known what I did if they hadn’t been right on my heels doing the exact same thing.”

  “Maybe so,” conceded Grady. “But we weren’t the ones who tried to change her diaper.”

  Michael took up the tale then, drawing more laughs, though Paul staunchly maintained he’d progressed a lot in a skill that obviously couldn’t be mastered overnight. Capturing a squirming bo
ttom in a diaper fiendishly disposed to slipperiness took a lot of practice.

  With the teasing continuing around them, Leslie met Grady’s eyes.

  “She’s asleep. She fell asleep while I was holding her,” Grady said in quiet awe, and he smiled.

  Leslie looked away.

  * * * *

  Nancy Monroe’s dinner was so delicious and so plentiful, they all ended up lazing on the patio. But this time, April excused herself almost immediately. Leslie supposed the girl could have simply had her fill of grown-ups. Still, she’d better check on her—though not right away or April would feel nagged. In a little while.

  A little while turned into an hour. The fading light, soft breeze and easy conversation left her relaxed almost to the state of limpness. Though the interlude at Grady’s apartment might have had something to do with that, too.

  She turned her head to look at the man next to her, and felt a start of surprise. She forgot what a good-looking man he was. Which was silly, considering the amount of time she spent with him. Or maybe it wasn’t silly. He’d let her see beyond his surface. And she was repaying him with secrets and dishonesty.

  She stood, blinking against fullness in her eyes.

  “Do you need something, dear?” Mrs. Monroe asked.

  “No. Thank you. I’m going to check on April.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  “No. Thank you, Grady. It’ll be better if I go alone.” Better for herself, if not April, she thought as she climbed the stairs.

  But every other thought disappeared as she stepped into the spacious room they shared.

  The closet doors stood open, one half of it gaping empty.

  Two drawers were only partly closed and the nightstand was cleared of April’s Walkman and cassettes.

  She didn’t remember getting down the stairs, but she was standing at the doorway to the patio.

  “April’s gone. She’s run away.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bette had pointed out it made more sense for Leslie to stay in the house, by the telephone, since she didn’t know the area and would be the logical one to get the most information if April called. Bette also stayed, in case the baby woke.