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However, he refused to abandon his family. He’d promised in court to take responsibility for Dawn, and he meant it. If necessary, he’d move in with his parents for a year and commute an hour each way from their home in Norwalk, in eastern Los Angeles County. It would be uncomfortable and inconvenient, but he’d do it for Dawn and for Barbara.
“Dawn said she was staying with your parents,” Melissa reminded him.
“She and Barb were already living there.” He blew out a long breath. “We all agreed it’s vital that she have what her therapist calls ‘continuity of care.’”
“I’m glad she has a counselor,” Melissa said. “That doesn’t substitute for being with her mom, though. Why couldn’t Barb stay out on bail until she’s sentenced?”
“She’s considered a flight risk.” The Mexican border was only a couple of hours’ drive away.
“That’s too bad.” Melissa regarded him with a warmth he’d missed—a lot. “Edmond, what you’re doing for Dawn, protecting her so she won’t go into foster care, it’s wonderful.”
“I would never let her be yanked away from her family.” To him, it was the only decent way to behave. He’d been blessed with many gifts, including loving if flawed parents, educational opportunities and an aptitude for the law. Surely there was a reason he’d also been given enough strength to stand tall when others needed him. Though it was a relief to express the situation openly to someone, without fear of judgment.
He’d done his best to be there for Melissa after her parents’ deaths. And he’d counted on her being there for him, too.
“Did it occur to you that you might have paternal instincts after all?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“You have a big heart,” she said gently. “Big enough to love more than one person. You’d make a wonderful father.”
He stiffened. Just when he’d believed she understood him, she was viewing his confidence through the lens of her own wishes, trying to convert him into her idea of what a man ought to be. “I’m not her father, I’m her guardian.”
“I’ve seen how you act with her,” Melissa said. “You’ve changed these past three years.”
Not that much.
This past year had been one blow after another. Edmond had rarely had a chance to replenish his inner strength with quiet hours to read, visit museums and travel. The worst part had been enduring these crises alone. That was, in part, why he’d opened up to Melissa today. To his disappointment, her attitude reminded him that she didn’t accept him for himself, only as a wish-fulfillment fantasy.
It was important to clear up that misunderstanding. “Don’t interpret my actions to suit your assumptions. My views on fatherhood haven’t changed.”
“Are you sure you have an accurate perception of yourself?”
How insulting. “While I respect your decision to have children in whatever manner you choose, you shouldn’t cast me in the role of father-knows-best simply because it’s convenient.”
Her mouth tightened. “That’s not what I was doing.”
Instinctively, he echoed her earlier words. “Are you sure you have an accurate perception of yourself?”
“Don’t be arrogant!” As she leaned forward to pick up her plate, a startled expression crossed her face and her hand flew to her midsection.
“Is anything wrong?” Although she didn’t appear distressed, Edmond hadn’t forgotten the bout of nausea in her office.
Melissa shook her head, blond tendrils quivering. “They’re scooting around in there.”
“You can feel the babies?” She’d mentioned being due in December, he recalled, and that was many months off. “How big are they?”
“Four or five inches apiece.” A smile bloomed, and wonder touched Melissa’s eyes. “They’re small, but I can tell when they’re active.”
While the gestation and birth process was miraculous, Edmond couldn’t pretend to share her enthusiasm. “Doesn’t it feel strange, having other people living inside you?”
She chuckled. “What a funny way to put it. This is normal.”
“Having triplets?”
“Not that part.”
Across the room, someone clapped for the guests’ attention. At the cake table, Zora Raditch, one of Melissa’s housemates, waved a metal spatula. “We’re doing the cut-the-cake thing now, and if either bride or groom shoves a slice in the other person’s face, I will personally smash the entire remaining cake over that person’s head. Fair warning!”
A ripple of laughter greeted this announcement. Edmond, however, was concerned about the baby bump visible beneath the woman’s dress. Another unmarried pregnancy in the house wouldn’t concern him, but he’d represented Zora in her divorce from a self-centered businessman named Andrew. Despite an agreement to negotiate fairly, the man had played games with the settlement and with signing the papers.
That had all been resolved, finally. But what about this pregnancy? “Dare I ask if Andrew’s the father?” In Edmond’s opinion, a child deserved better than to be born into such a mixed-up situation.
“Yes, he is, sad to say.” Melissa arose gracefully considering her awkward distribution of weight. “They had break-up sex. Then he went and married his new girlfriend.”
Edmond collected their plates. “He has obligations, regardless. Their child is legally entitled to parental support.”
“It’s children, plural. Twins.” Melissa shrugged. “I’m not sure why, but I don’t believe Zora’s even broken the news to Andrew. She can’t keep her pregnancy secret from him long, since her former mother-in-law works at the hospital.”
“Please let her know I’d be happy to help.” Regardless of Andrew’s attitudes toward fatherhood, he had obligations to these children. And he owed his former wife his support during her pregnancy, as well. “She shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
“She isn’t alone,” Melissa reminded him. “She has me and Karen.”
“Five babies. I’d call that a full house.”
“Plus Anya’s having a baby. But that little girl’s father gives a damn.” With that, Melissa went to join the gathering around the cake table.
I’m not the father of your babies. Her unjustified anger annoyed Edmond. Well, he was responsible for his niece, and no one could accuse him of not giving a damn about her.
On Monday, he’d find out exactly how big a responsibility he’d undertaken. Hopefully, this would prove to be an unpleasant but limited blip in his sister’s troubled life, and Dawn could resume living with her. Pushing aside his worries, Edmond carried the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
Chapter Five
The savory scent hit Melissa’s senses the moment she opened the oven door. Orange and lemon zest, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and a touch of sweetness—it transported her instantly to a cozy hotel in Sorrento she and Edmond had used as a base for exploring southern Italy during one of their favorite trips.
She’d discovered this unusual muffin recipe on a website. After her roommates tasted it, the muffins had become an instant hit.
With the aroma, perhaps because she’d encountered her ex-husband yesterday, memories flooded in. As she set the hot tin on the stovetop and began transferring the muffins to a wire cooling rack, Melissa recalled the view from their hilltop hotel over the deep blue Gulf of Naples.
She and Edmond had spent days exploring the partially restored ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum, which had been buried in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Images of her husband remained etched in her memory: sweat darkening his shirt as he led the way along a narrow, ancient street; his grin shining from his sun-darkened face as they shared a glass of red wine over lunch; his boyish enthusiasm for the voluptuous frescoes decorating two-thousand-year-old palatial homes. They’d hated to leave Sorrento, even though they were continuing on to Rome, Florence and Venice.
If only she could live two lives, Melissa reflected wistfully as she fetched a box of powdered sugar from the cupboard. In the other life, she and Edmond would continue to travel together and, when at home, spend cozy Sunday mornings nestled on the couch, sharing the newspaper. There’d be no risk of provoking his rejection, because she wouldn’t long for babies.
But she would never give up this reality. Inside her, as if to reassert their presence, the little ones squirmed. Melissa smiled, imagining her daughters’ rambunctious play. She’d read that multiples interacted in the womb. Was one of them already bossy? Was another learning to assert herself in response?
“Ooh, Italian muffins!” Zora bounced into the kitchen, although how anyone five months pregnant with twins could bounce was beyond Melissa. Her housemate’s hand shot toward the cooling rack.
“Stop!” Melissa cried. “They’ll burn you. Besides, they aren’t powdered yet.”
“Can I help?” Without waiting, Zora plucked the box from her hands. Since Melissa had pried the spout partway open, soft sugar floated out, touching Zora’s ginger-colored hair with white and speckling the floor. “Oh, sorry. I’ll clean up.”
“No, you won’t.” Melissa removed the sugar from her grasp before any more escaped. “Neither you nor I ought to be kneeling on the floor.”
“We aren’t invalids.” Zora rarely requested assistance or complained about her pregnancy-related ills, except perhaps to Anya. The two had shared an apartment before moving into this house, and initially their pregnancies had drawn them closer. But Anya was on her honeymoon now, and had already packed most of her possessions to move in with Jack.
“We may not be invalids but we should be sensible,” Melissa told her.
“Don’t lecture me. I get more than enough of that already.” Zora flinched as a heavy tread crossing the den announced Lucky’s approach. “Speak of the devil.”
“Behave,” Melissa cautioned her friend. “He’s a prince of a guy.”
“You mean a royal pain?”
Melissa chuckled. “Lucky can be that, too.”
“Do I hear someone taking my name in vain?” The male nurse appeared in the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping to Zora. Melissa wondered if either of them noticed how he always focused on her first, no matter who else was around.
Although Lucky wasn’t Melissa’s type, she appreciated his macho appeal, from his cropped hair to his colorful tattoos of a dragon and a sword-wielding woman in skimpy armor. These were revealed today, along with his sculpted muscles, by a sleeveless black T-shirt. New acquaintances often reacted with surprise on learning he was a nurse and a vegetarian, as if those aspects were incompatible with rough-hewn virility.
“No more than usual,” Zora said.
“I’m not sure how to interpret that, so I’ll ignore it.”
Melissa was glad Lucky didn’t respond with a jab. He and Zora could pick at each other no end, and Sunday mornings ought to be restful.
When he moved into the kitchen, Melissa halted him with an upraised hand. “Don’t step there.” She pointed to the spilled sugar. “If you would please clean that up, I’ll finish sifting this on the muffins.”
“Sure thing. Since you’re baking, it’s the least I can do.” Cheerfully, Lucky went to fetch cleaning supplies. He really was a good housemate.
“I’ll brew coffee.” Zora took out the canister, although neither she nor Melissa had a taste for it these days. Still, Karen would be down soon, and she didn’t function well till she’d had her first cup.
“I should have put some on earlier,” Melissa reflected.
“Why should you? I just want to look busy. And thanks for not telling him I spilled it,” Zora said in a low voice. “He expects everyone to be perfect.”
“Not everyone. Just you.” For some reason, Lucky was harder on Zora than on anyone else.
Zora measured the coffee, careful to avoid any further spillage. “It’s none of his business whether I inform Andrew about the babies. If I go after my ex for support, he’ll jerk me around, maybe sue for custody just so he feels like he’s on top. He always has to win.”
“What about Betsy?” Andrew’s mother, Betsy Raditch, was the hospital’s director of nursing. Since Zora worked as an ultrasound tech, she wasn’t directly under Betsy’s supervision, but they’d remained on friendly terms after Zora had split with Andrew. “She must have noticed.”
“She hasn’t asked who the father is, and I haven’t told her. No sense putting her in the middle.” Zora broke off as Lucky returned. He wiped the floor without comment.
Melissa finished sugaring the muffins and put them on a platter. After setting one aside for herself and giving Zora another, she set the plate on the table.
“May I eat now, Mommy?” Lucky joked. “I did my chores.”
“Good boy,” Melissa said. “Dig in.”
Soon the three of them were lounging around the table with the newspaper, silent except for the occasional chuckle at a comic strip or wry comment about a news story. Melissa was grateful for the company. Before moving into the house last spring, she’d lived alone in an efficiency apartment, missing married life and yearning for a baby.
She wished she could have found the right man. But her desire for motherhood had become too powerful to resist, and being surrounded by friends provided all the support she could ask for. Most of the time, anyway.
Zora departed first. Waiting until they heard the shower running upstairs, Lucky caught Melissa’s eye and said, “Since you’re on positive terms with your ex, you should talk to him about Zora. As her divorce attorney, he’s the best person to explain about Andrew’s legal obligations.”
“Zora’s well aware that he owes her support,” Melissa answered. “She has her reasons for keeping mum. And it isn’t my business to intervene with her attorney.”
“Well, she does a rotten job of taking care of herself. Her mom and stepfather live out of state, and we’re the only family she has around here.” Lucky set aside the sports section. “She ought to put her life in order before the twins are born.”
“You think involving Andrew will put things in order?” Although Melissa didn’t disagree with Lucky’s premise, she also understood Zora’s side. “It’s a messy situation no matter what she does.”
“She must love messy situations, because she’s always in one.” Morning light through the glass door played across his smooth olive skin. “First she had an affair with Andrew while he was married to his first wife, then, after he cheated on her, too...well, what kind of bonehead has break-up sex with a guy like that?”
“She doesn’t always show the best judgment.” Melissa left it at that. She didn’t want to run down her friend.
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