The Gazebo

  Deirdre’s breath snagged. No, that was impossible! It must’ve been some kind of costume party, Halloween or…The thought of all Stone’s gorgeous thick hair lying on the floor of some barbershop was almost more than Deirdre could take.

  “What was that gasp for?” Lucy came to look over her shoulder. “The kitchen shot of Jake’s fantastic bod? The man does keep himself in great shape with that martial arts stuff he does. Tank wants him to teach the boys, but I’m scared they’ll kill each other. And I already know the E.R. nurses by name. We’ll see when the kids get older.”

  Deirdre’s curiosity was killing her. She pointed to the picture in question. “Were they—they going to a costume party or something?” she asked, knowing her dismay must be showing. “Dressing up for some joke?”

  Lucy was quiet for a moment. Deirdre squinted. It looked like a balloon was drifting just above their heads in the snapshot, a white one with big, dark circles like eyes.

  Lucy took the picture down, ran her finger along the edge tenderly. “I pulled this out of the photo album when I heard you were coming. I don’t keep it out as a rule. The little boys, they don’t remember much. But it makes Frankie and Tommy upset.”

  “I’d get upset, too, if Jake cut his hair.”

  Lucy smiled softly down at the photograph. “Neither one of those guys ever looked more handsome. At least not in my eyes.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Frankie took the picture, so it’s a little blurry, but see this blob up at the top of the picture?” Lucy pointed. “That’s me.”

  Deirdre squinted, made out Lucy’s brown eyes, a smear of nose, but not a wisp of her rich spun gold hair. Deirdre looked up, meeting the other woman’s gaze. “You?”

  “I’d just finished chemo. My hair was coming out in clumps. So I went to the hair stylist and just had her shave it all off. She put it in an envelope and I took it home with me. Why, God alone knows. Tank and Jake found me crying over it, like a baby.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not. Those two knuckleheads ran out, saying they were going to pick up some ice cream. They came home looking like this, grinning like complete idiots. That Halloween, the three of us painted our heads different colors and went out disguised as pool balls. The boys thought it was awesome.”

  Deirdre swallowed hard, emotion squeezing her chest as she peered down at Jake Stone’s face captured on the bit of film. It was so easy to imagine him, trying to make Lucy feel better. Loving his friends so easily, the way he loved Trula and the pink house and that ridiculous-looking dog of his with its skin six sizes too large.

  “Jake’s one in a million,” Lucy said. “Any woman who gets her hands on him is damned lucky.”

  Especially if she knows what to do with him once she does, doesn’t freak out and go cold. “They must be standing in line,” Deirdre said, a little wistful.

  “Pretty much,” Lucy told her. “Not that he’s been interested. Tank even quit trying to set him up with my friends. He’d just tell them he was already seeing someone else.”

  “When I came to his office to hire him, he tried to convince me he had two bimbos on the string—Trula and Ellie May. Of course, it was easy to believe he had a whole harem of women crazy about him. God. That man has a gorgeous smile.”

  Lucy sobered. “None of us had much to smile about back when we took this picture. I lost my breast, Tank lost his pride, my boys lost their belief that Mom would live forever and Jake…sometimes I think Jake lost most of all. Has he talked to you about, well, about how he lost his badge?”

  Deirdre looked into Lucy Rizzo’s earnest brown eyes. “I know the bare bones. He and Tank were partners. Stone shot a suspect. The guy was unarmed. So he became a private investigator when he was kicked off the force.”

  “And you believe that’s all there is to it?”

  Deirdre felt the weight of Lucy Rizzo’s gaze on her, the woman seeming to measure her somehow, searching for something Deirdre couldn’t name.

  “No. There’s something more. Sometimes I see it in his eyes. He wanted me to believe he didn’t give a damn about the man he shot, about losing his badge. And yet, that lack of honor…it seems so…so strange on Stone. It doesn’t fit.”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  Deirdre regarded this woman who was Stone’s friend, a woman Deirdre had come to like and respect in a short time, in spite of her own usual reserve. “I wish he’d tell me…what happened. I’d believe him.”

  “He never will.” Lucy set the picture down and perched on the edge of a stool at the kitchen island.

  “Will you?” Deirdre asked. What was she? Crazy? She didn’t want to know any more about how wonderful Jake Stone was. It would just make it harder when he found her father, and she had to walk away.

  Lucy patted the stool beside her. Deirdre scooted up on it to listen.

  “One thing you can always count on with Jake. He’ll let people think the worst of him and take the fall himself before he’ll risk letting down someone he loves. For Tank and me, it’s been one of the luckiest things in our lives that Jake Stone loves us.”

  What would it be like to be able to say that so certainly? Deirdre wondered with a twinge of envy. Jake Stone loves us. Loves me. Loves Emma.

  “Eight years ago Tank had just brought me home from my mastectomy.They had to do a radical, lymph nodes, the whole ugly deal. Trula stayed with the boys and me while Tank and Jake were at work. There was no way Tank could take any time off. We needed the money too badly. But with me so sick his head was—well, you can imagine. Tank’s mind wasn’t on his job.”

  Deirdre tried to imagine the burly Italian who’d loved Lucy since he was an altar boy facing the possibility of losing her.

  “The doctor had done his best, but he wasn’t sure he’d gotten all the cancer. I was so young, you know? It took everyone by surprise. Tank was out of his mind with worry, scared he was going to have to watch me die. Feared he’d have to raise our boys on his own. God, Deirdre, if you could have seen him—this big strong man, crying at night when he thought I was sleeping.”

  Deirdre’s eyes burned. “You’re lucky. To have a good man like Tank love you that much.”

  Lucy smiled. “I remember him leaving the house the night it happened, Frankie clinging to his leg, begging Tank not to go. You know how kids get crazy things in their heads sometimes? Frankie believed with all his heart that Tank had to be home to keep God from stealing Mommy away. Jake had brought Trula over to help. He could see Tank was on the edge. Yelling…Tank almost never yelled at the boys. Jake sent Tank outside to cool off, then he picked Frankie up.”

  Lucy wiped away tears, unashamed.

  “Jake looked right into my little boy’s eyes and told him I wasn’t going anywhere. He told Frankie that a fire had taken Jake’s mom away before he even got to know her. So it would be cheating for God to take me to heaven, too. Like on game night when J.J. tried to pick too many cherries in Hi Ho Cherry-o.”

  “If only the world were that simple.”

  “Frankie’s world was. The logic made my brain ache, but Frankie figured there was no way God was going to cheat like his rotten little brother. Not with Uncle Jake around to keep things fair. Jake was so patient with my boy, like he really understood. But it made me so sad. I kept thinking Jake was so much younger than Frankie when his own mother died.”

  Deirdre imagined how strong Jake would have felt to little Frankie Rizzo, how wise. The uncle who loved him, who’d always be there for him. Who loved Frankie’s mom and dad.

  “After Tank and Jake headed off to their beat, they answered a domestic violence call. The boys had been there a half-dozen times before. This time was worse than the others. They found the woman stabbed in the breast. Her husband was laughing, telling Tank to go ahead and arrest him. The minute he got back out of jail he’d find his wife, cut her again. Make sure she died real slow, a piece at a time.”

  Deirdre’s stomach lurched, imagining the blood and t
he threat and the helplessness Tank and Jake must have felt, knowing that the monster would keep his promise.

  “‘There’s nothing you can do to stop me,’ the husband had said, and laughed and laughed and laughed, his wife out of her mind with pain, waiting for the ambulance.” Lucy’s fingers clenched on the top chair rail. “What I’m going to tell you is grounds for arrest. That’s why Jacob never will…”

  She paused for a moment, seeming to steady herself to take the risk Deirdre could see was weighing on her.

  “Tank shot the husband,” Lucy said, meeting Deirdre’s eyes. “He pulled the trigger and killed him.”

  Deirdre stared.

  “Tank was crazy with fear and grief and hadn’t slept in weeks,” Lucy defended. “Not since I’d gotten the diagnosis. Hearing that animal delighting in his wife’s pain was more than Tank could stand.”

  “But Jake…Jake is the one who killed the guy,” Deirdre stammered. “He lost his badge—”

  “Jake knew the kind of trouble Tank would be in. God, sometimes I still can’t believe this. Jake grabbed this little end table the woman had sitting by her couch and whacked Tank over the head with it. Knocked him out cold. Tank had a nasty gash, and was still so out of it when the ambulance got there the EMTs insisted he go with them to the hospital to get stitched up. Jake took Tank’s gun and told Tank to go home once the docs checked him out. Jake would come by our house after he filed the report.”

  “He lied,” Deirdre said, knowing it was true.

  “He claimed the perp surprised them, came after them with the table, knocking their guns out of their hands. When the perp bashed Tank over the head, Jake grabbed the first weapon he could reach and fired the fatal shot.”

  Deirdre tried to make sense of it. “But Tank loves Jake. Why would he let that story stand?”

  “Tank went crazy, he was so furious. Ready to charge out of the house, go to headquarters and set things straight. Jake blocked the door, saying it was too late for that. Telling the truth now wouldn’t save Jake. He’d already perjured himself. He was off the force either way. If Tank said he’d fired the fatal shot now, they’d both go down.”

  Tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes. “Tank swung at him, out of his mind, so broken by all of it. They fought—God, I’ve never been so scared. Jake tried so hard not to hurt him, but Tank was crazy, you know? Trying to beat the pain out of him. Finally Jake pinned him to the floor. ‘Think, you bullheaded Italian,’ Jake said. ‘You admit to firing that shot, they won’t just take your badge, you’ll lose your medical insurance. How the hell is an unemployed cop with no coverage gonna pay for chemo and checkups and God forbid, more surgery if it comes to that?’”

  “Oh, Lucy.” Deirdre could see the two friends, shirts torn, noses bleeding, forced into doing the unthinkable.

  “I hobbled out of my room, crying. Knelt down by Tank. I told him we had no choice. He had the boys to support, and if I died…Deirdre, there was no way to know if I’d live out the year.”

  Deirdre crossed to the window, looked out to the man roughhousing with the Rizzo boys, her heart breaking as she remembered the convicts jeering at him, imagined the shame of seeing his name smeared across the news.

  He’d said he was grateful the cop who’d loved Trula hadn’t lived long enough to see Stone’s shame. Deirdre was sure up in heaven the man was beaming with pride. She flattened her hand against the cool glass, wishing she could touch Jake, feel the warmth in him, tell him how much she admired him, respected him.

  “Thank God,” Deirdre said. “Thank God you’re all right. You are, aren’t you?” It astonished Deirdre to realize how personal her stake was in the question. She’d only known Lucy for a few hours, but imagining the world without her was unthinkable.

  “It’s been eight years and counting. When we hit ten, Tank and I are going to do something wild and crazy to celebrate. He’s been saving to take the boys and me on a Disney cruise.”

  “You all deserve it.”

  “I wish there was something we could give Jake, to make up for everything he sacrificed that day.” Lucy fought to steady her voice. “He gave up everything he’d worked so hard for because he loved us. Even his wife, Jessica, left him when he’d told her what he’d done. How he’d saved us.”

  “Then she didn’t deserve him,” Deirdre said, hating a woman she’d never seen. The woman Stone had given his name. How could she have flung it back at him?

  But Lucy Rizzo had just met Deirdre. How could the woman be sure Deirdre was any different? “Considering everything that happened, how dangerous this information is, I guess I’m trying to understand…Why take the risk of telling me?”

  Lucy took Deirdre’s hand in her warm one. “Jake Stone is our best friend. The most honorable man I’ve ever known. And the kindest. He’d never tell you any of this himself because he’s still trying to protect Tank and the boys and me, no matter what the cost to himself. I keep hoping, praying that maybe he can find a woman strong enough to love him the way he loves. Through fire and storm, with all his heart.” Lucy’s eyes locked with hers. “I’m hoping that woman is you.”

  Deirdre peered up at Lucy, her heart aching. “You don’t understand. I can’t…” How could she ever explain? “I live alone. I’ve always been alone.”

  “So has Jake,” Lucy said, peering out into the sunshine where her children were howling with glee in a wild game of football with their uncle and father. “He deserves better than what life’s dealt him. A family of his own.” She walked out to join the mayhem.

  Deirdre watched as the Rizzos’ youngest got hold of the football, his eyes saucer wide as his big brothers charged to make the tackle.

  At the last instant, Jake scooped the little boy up onto his shoulders, carrying the triumphant five-year-old in for a touchdown.

  The other boys fell on Stone in a howling mob, trying to take him down. Deirdre’s heart ached as the big, hulking man surrendered, carefully setting Joey on his feet before collapsing under the weight of the rest of the Rizzo brood.

  “Oh, Jake,” Deirdre whispered, dreading once this case was over, thinking just how badly she was going to miss him.

  She saw Jake call something to Lucy, Lucy wave back toward the house in reply. Jake disentangled himself from the five rowdy boys and ran toward the kitchen’s sliding glass doors, his body working with the effortless grace of an athlete.

  He was beautiful, Deirdre thought, her throat tight. Inside and out. Far more heroic than any badge could ever make him, far more selfless than anyone except Tank and Lucy knew.

  Not anymore, Deirdre corrected herself. I know.

  Jake slid open the door, his hair tousled, his eyes shining, a little anxious, a little uncertain, hoping she was having a good time. “Hey, the party is out here,” he said. “Or are you ready to go home?”

  Home? To a big house she never wanted, filled with people she didn’t know. Where Emma’s room would soon be occupied only by her cast-off stuffed animals and posters of Broadway shows she hoped to star in someday.

  Where Deirdre’s bed stretched, big and empty except for nightmares that turned her cold. Where not even Jake Stone’s beautiful strong hands could warm her.

  “Dee?” Jake’s brow furrowed, his hand brushing lightly across his face. “Did Joey stick a fake tattoo on my forehead or something?”

  “No,” Deirdre said, her eyes stinging.

  Stone’s mouth crooked in a smile. “Then what are you looking at?”

  “You.”

  The way your eyes sparkle, the way you grin like you really mean it, the way you handle Lucy’s little boys so perfectly it makes me wish that you had your own….

  She tingled, imagining what it would be like to make those imaginary babies with Jake, the picture in her head so vivid she could see the wonder, the awe on his face when she told him…

  When she told him? Deirdre drew back in horror. She wouldn’t be telling Stone any such thing. Some nameless woman who wouldn’t chicken out on Stone at
the last minute would be the one to put that joy on Stone’s face, tell him he was going to be a father….

  Oh, God, Deirdre thought. She was losing it. And Stone was so damned good at reading people that he’d be able to tell.

  Maybe he could tell that something was wrong, she assured herself, but not what she was thinking. Even Stone wasn’t mind reader enough for that. Her eyes dipped down, relief washing through her as she glimpsed a triangle of tanned thigh showing through worn denim. The perfect excuse for her staring. “You tore your jeans.”

  “Oh. So that’s it.” Jake brushed off the worst of the grass clinging to his leg, a smear of dirt dark where he’d gone down on one knee. “If you’re worried about that reunion of yours, don’t. I clean up pretty good. And we’ll start on those dancing lessons of yours tomorrow, all right?”

  Deirdre nodded. She couldn’t squeeze words past the lump in her throat.

  “Dee,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “What’s the problem? You’re still looking at me all weird.”

  Don’t you see? You’re my problem, Deirdre wanted to say. After today I can never look at you the same way again.

  She couldn’t tell him that, so she reached up on tiptoe instead and kissed him softly on the cheek, wishing for a life she could never have.

  CHAPTER 16

  JAKE PROWLED HIS LIVING ROOM, more nervous than he’d

  been in the stuffy room at the courthouse, waiting for the verdict in his trial eight years ago. He scowled down at Ellie May who was staring up at him soulfully.

  “So she’s coming over here for the first time since we started dating. Big deal. It doesn’t mean I’m going to get laid.”

  So why did you change the sheets? Ellie’s big brown eyes demanded. And you won’t let me take my afternoon nap up on the bed. Sometimes Stone hated it when his dog started to think too loud.