Love to Love You Baby
Chapter Seventeen
The game isn’t over until it’s over.
— Yogi Berra
They made it halfway home before Keely figured it out, but she waited until he’d parked the Corvette and they were heading up to the house before she confronted him. “You listened to the message from Aunt Mary, didn’t you?”
“That’s my brother’s car back there, at the garages,” Jack answered shortly. “Maybe we can postpone World War Three until he’s gone, okay?”
“Then you did,” she exclaimed, chasing after him after having stopped dead for a moment, until her mind engaged, sorted through Jack’s response. “You didn’t deny it, Jack, so you did. You listened to my private phone message! When, Jack? Before... or after?”
“Does it matter?” he asked, skirting the fence around the pool as he aimed himself at the back door.
“Does it—oh, for crying out loud, Jack! Of course it matters. It changes everything. Did you make love to me because you wanted to, or because it was the best way you could think of to keep me here so you can get custody of Candy?”
He turned on her, lifted a finger to her face. “I would not do that,” he said slowly, precisely.
“Sure, you would. That’s exactly what you would do,” Keely persisted, chasing after him again, catching the door as he let it go behind him, entering the kitchen.
“Hi, Jack—Keely.”
Keely looked at Tim Trehan, sitting at his ease in the den, munching popcorn out of a big blue bowl. Petra and Sweetness sat there with him, and one of the Godfather movies was playing on the DVD player.
“Hello,” Keely bit out, turning her back on him.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asked testily.
“I don’t know. If I’d known the welcome I’d get, I suppose maybe I wouldn’t have come here at all. But, bighearted brother that I am, I thought I’d personally deliver tickets to tomorrow night’s game. I’m nice that way. Besides, Mort’s coming here any minute now and wanted me here when he arrived. I think I’m supposed to convince you something’s the right thing to do. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Keely stood, her back still to Tim, her arms folded across her belly, one foot tap-tap-tapping on the tile kitchen floor. “Get rid of him,” she said through gritted teeth, not caring if she was being as bossy as her aunt often accused her of being. “I need to kill you.”
“Hey, they’re fighting,” Petra said, and Keely turned around, glaring at the teenager. “Oh, yeah,” Petra gloated. “They’re fighting. This could be good. Tim, pass me the popcorn.”
“Jack...” Keely ground out.
“No,” he said firmly. “No, I’m not going to throw my brother out because you’ve got some stick up your—” He shut up abruptly, pulled open the refrigerator door, yanked out a can of soda, popped the top. Soda fizz ran over his fingers, dripped onto the floor.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Keely said accusingly, going over to the sink to rip off a length of paper towels, wet them under the tap. “I just washed this floor.”
“And it’s a beautiful day for baseball. This is Tim Trehan, who will be bringing you your play by play,” Tim said, holding up the TV controller as if it were a microphone. He, Petra, and Sweetness had moved from the couch to the low bar that separated the two rooms, the popcorn bowl balanced between them as they watched from the bleacher seats.
“Not funny. Go away, Tim,” Jack said, contradicting his previous statement. “Keely and I have something to discuss.”
“No, we don’t,” Keely said from the floor, where she was wiping up the spill. “I changed my mind. I have nothing to say to you. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, folks, they’re feeling each other out,” Tim spoke into the controller.
Keely lost it. She just lost it. She didn’t care if the entire mad Trehan gang were here, making comments, taking notes. “You did, Jack. You listened to my private phone message. You heard Aunt Mary say she’s giving me the shop. Admit it.”
“Okay, so maybe I did listen,” Jack shot back at her. “What’s the big deal? It’s no big deal. I was going to tell you... sometime.”
“He’s trying to pitch out of a jam, folks,” Tim said, as Petra giggled.
“No big deal? Aunt Mary gave me the shop, Jack, so I can sell it, go back to New York. You hear that, and then you lure me into bed. And you don’t see that as a big deal?”
“I shouldn’t be hearing this,” Sweetness said, taking hold of Petra’s elbow. “You either. Come on, let’s go for a walk or something.”
“Take him, too,” Jack ordered, pointing at his brother.
“Nice try, Jack, but I’m staying. But, hey, don’t let me interrupt.”
Jack growled low in his throat, and Keely grabbed his arm. “Just forget about him,” she ordered. “Besides, I don’t care if the whole world hears this. You’re a rat, Jack. A great big rat!”
Jack gave his brother one last look, then turned to Keely, slapping a hand to his chest. “Me? I’m the rat? Hey, I gave you an opening. I asked what the message was about, and you said it was nothing. Big nothing, Keely. Just your ticket out of here, back to the big time.”
“Somebody check the radar gun,” Tim commented from the box seats. “He’s really throwing some heat now.”
“I already have my ticket back to the big time, Jack,” Keely yelled at him. “You offered it to me, remember? Anything I want, that’s what you said. Anything to get rid of me after you get custody, right, Jack? Taking me to bed was just a little added insurance.”
“It’s a nail biter now, fans,” Tim said into the sudden silence. “And here comes the payoff pitch...”
Jack stabbed his fingers into his hair. “What in hell are you talking about? I don’t want to get rid of you, Keely. I thought you wanted to go. I thought... I thought you needed to go. Give it another shot.”
Keely pulled out one of the tall chairs at the breakfast bar, sat down before she fell down, as she felt suddenly deflated. “Well, I did. I thought did.”
Jack walked over to the breakfast bar, put both palms on the countertop. “You want to talk, Keely, we’ll talk. Tim,” he said, looking over his shoulder, “get out of here.”
“Well,” Tim said, putting down the remote controller. “That took the crowd out of the game.”
“Tim!”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
Keely kept her head down, waited until Tim walked past them, closed the kitchen door behind himself.
“Keely,” Jack said, taking one of her hands in his, “you’ve always been very upfront about what you wanted. You wanted to go back to Manhattan, give this interior decorating thing another shot. If you don’t remember how badly you wanted that, I do.”
“You wanted another shot at baseball,” Keely said, wishing he’d stop rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. She couldn’t think when he was touching her. Didn’t want to think.
“And I took it, and I learned that I was wrong, I didn’t really want it anymore. There wasn’t any burning in my gut anymore. But you haven’t had that opportunity, Keely. Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have made it, made it to the big dance, the big time?”
“As opposed to staying here with you and Candy,” Keely said, unable to be anything other than direct, now that they finally were talking, really talking, to each other.
“We could be a way of not having to try, risk another failure.”
She lifted her head, looked at him. “Is that how you see it, Jack? How you see Candy, and me? As an excuse not to risk failure again?”
His smile was slow and very real, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. “I worried about that, I admit it,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. “About rebounds, and proximity, and confusing gratefulness for your help for something bigger, deeper. But then, I’m a jerk. Luckily, not that much of a jerk, because I figured it out, Keely. I love you. You.
But loving you, I need you to be sure, too.”
“Oh, Jack,” Keely said, sighing as she reached across the breakfast bar, cupping a hand behind his head. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
“And you love me?” he asked, disengaging her clinging arms long enough to walk around the bar, gather her close.
“I love you,” Keely told him. “You big jerk, how could I do anything but love you?”
He kissed her, and Keely swore she could hear bells, just as she could have sworn she’d heard music that first time, in Arizona. But then she heard more. She heard knocking.
Jack must have heard it, too, because he broke their kiss, looked toward the hallway. “What is it, Sweetness?”
“You’ve got company, Mr. T.”
“Mort?” he asked as Keely reluctantly slid her arms away from him, took hold of his hand. There was so much more they needed to say to each other, but it could wait. She’d probably spend half her life waiting for chances to talk to Jack, waiting for some moment of peace and quiet to talk to Jack. And yet one of the things she loved best about him was that excitement seemed to follow him.
“No, sir,” Sweetness said, shaking his head. “It’s some lady and her friend. Moon Flower?”
Keely winced as Jack’s grip on her hand nearly crushed her fingers. “Cecily?” he asked.
“That’s what Mr. Morretti called her, but she told me Moon Flower. I’m sure of it. There’s somebody else, too, but I didn’t catch his name.”
“Oh, God, Jack, your cousin’s here?” Keely asked, suddenly terrified. Where was Candy? She looked up at the clock—nap time. Candy was upstairs, sleeping. She had to go to Candy.
As if reading her thoughts, Jack asked Sweetness, “Where’s Candy? Does Petra have her?”
Sweetness nodded vigorously. “She woke up kind of early, so we took her down to Aunt Sadie’s place for a visit. That’s where we went, too, when you two started... when we thought we should leave. Ms. Peters is still there, having tea with Aunt Sadie and playing with Candy. And your brother’s there, with some guy named Mort. Whole bunch of us there. I came back up here to get Candy’s pacifier and heard the doorbell. Should I go get everybody, bring them all up here?”
“No!” Keely and Jack said in unison.
“But, I thought—I’ll just ask Petra, I think she’ll know.”
“Don’t think, Sweetness,” Jack warned. “Just keep everybody away until I can talk to my cousin. Are you telling me Joey’s with her?”
“Yes, sir,” Sweetness said, already heading for the back door, a wise man who knows when he’s been dismissed. “Is that all right? I could get him out of there, if you want.”
“I’ll just bet you could, Sweetness, but no thanks,” Jack said, and Sweetness shrugged, left the kitchen. “Come on, Keely,” Jack said to her, squeezing her hand. “The timing sucks, but then, what else is new? Let’s go talk to Cecily.”
Keely hung back, more frightened than she wanted to admit. “Shouldn’t we call Jimmy? Call your lawyer?”
“Not yet,” he told her. “First we see what planet Cecily’s on today, and then go from there.”