The Soldier's Secret Child

“I’m not really...” He broke off. Did he really want to get into his personal business with Tiffany?

Lacey cleared her throat, grasped Vito’s scarred hand and smiled up at Tiffany. “He’s staying at my guesthouse,” she said sweetly. “With me.”

“Oh.” There was a world of meaning in that word, backed up by Tiffany’s raised eyebrows. “Well, then. It was good to see you.” She spun on her high heels and walked over to the counter, where she leaned toward Nora Jean and started talking fast and hard.

Vito turned his hand over, palm to palm with Lacey. “Thanks,” he said, “but you didn’t have to do that.”

“Tiffany hasn’t changed a bit since high school,” Lacey said. “She’d break your heart.”

“It’s not in the market.”

“Mine, either.”

They looked at each other and some electrical-like current materialized between them, running from their locked eyes to their intertwined hands.

No, Vito’s heart wasn’t in the market. He had enough to do to rebuild a life and raise a boy and keep a secret.

But if it had been in the market, it would run more toward someone like Lacey than toward someone like Tiffany.

Lacey glanced toward the counter. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but Tiffany and Nora Jean are staring at us.”

“This is how rumors get started.” He squeezed her hand a little, then could have kicked himself. Was he flirting? With the one woman he could never, ever get involved with?

“That’s true,” Lacey said briskly, looking away. “And we’ve obviously done a good job of starting a rumor today. So...”

“So what?” He squeezed her hand again, let go and thought of living at the guesthouse with Nonna and Charlie.

Charlie could walk to the park, or better yet, ride a bike. Vito was pretty sure there was one in Nonna’s garage that he could fix up.

Vito could see Nonna every day. Do something good for the woman who’d done so much for him.

And he could get back on his feet, start his online classes. Maybe Nonna, as she got better, would watch Charlie for him some, giving him a chance to go out and find a decent job.

Soon enough, Nonna would be well and Charlie would be settled in school and Vito would have some money to spare. At which point he could find them another place to live.

He’d only have to keep his secret for the summer. After that, he and Charlie would live elsewhere and would drift naturally out of Lacey’s circle of friends. At that point, it was doubtful that she’d learn about Charlie’s parentage; there’d be no reason for it to come up.

How likely was it that Lacey would find out the truth over the summer?

“Maybe you could stay for a while,” she said. “I’m opening the guesthouse this fall, officially, but until then, having a long-term guest who didn’t mind noise would help out.”

“How about a guest who makes noise? Charlie’s not a quiet kid.”

“I liked him.”

“Well, then,” Vito said, trying to ignore the feeling that he was making a huge mistake, “if you’re seriously making the offer, it looks like you’ve got yourself a couple of tenants for the summer.”

Chapter Four (#u3d5901b1-f0bb-5520-b0ed-d7e852b905df)

The next Wednesday afternoon, Lacey looked out the kitchen window as Charlie and Vito brought a last load of boxes in from Vito’s pickup. Pop music played loudly—Charlie’s choice. She’d heard their good-natured argument earlier. The bang of the front screen door sent Mr. Whiskers flying from his favorite sunning spot on the floor. He disappeared into the basement, where his companion, Mrs. Whiskers, had already retreated.

Some part of Lacey liked the noise and life, but part of her worried. There went her peaceful summer—and Nonna’s, too. This might be a really bad idea.

She glanced over at the older woman, relaxing in the rocking chair Lacey had put in a warm, sunny corner beside the stove. Maybe she’d leave the chair there. It gave the room a cozy feel. And Nonna didn’t look any too disturbed by the ruckus Vito and Charlie were creating. Her eyes sparkled with more interest than she’d shown in the previous couple of weeks.

“I’d better get busy with dinner.” Lacey opened the refrigerator door and studied the contents.

“I used to be such a good cook,” Nonna commented. “Nowadays, I just don’t have the energy.”

“You will again.” Lacey pulled mushrooms, sweet peppers and broccoli from the fridge. “You’d better. I don’t think I could face the future without your lasagna in it.”

“I could teach you to make it.”

Lacey chuckled. “I’m really not much of a cook. And besides, we need to work on healthy meals. Maybe we can figure out a way to make some heart-healthy lasagna one of these days.”

As she measured out brown rice and started it cooking, she looked over to see Nonna’s frown. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you making?”

“Stir-fried veggies on brown rice. It’ll be good.” Truthfully, it was one of Lacey’s few staples, a quick, healthy meal she often whipped up for herself after work.

“No meat?” Nonna sounded scandalized. “You can’t serve a meal to men without meat. At least a little, for flavor.”

Lacey stopped in the middle of chopping the broccoli into small florets. “I’m cooking for men?”

“Aren’t you fixing dinner for Vito and Charlie, too?” Nonna’s eyebrows lifted.

“We didn’t talk about sharing meals.” Out the window, she saw Vito close the truck cab and wipe his forehead with the back of his hand before picking up one of the street side boxes to carry in. “They are working up a sweat out there, but where would I put them?” She nodded toward the small wooden table against the wall, where she and Nonna had been taking their meals. Once again, she sensed their quiet, relaxing summer dissolving away.

At the same time, Nonna was an extrovert, so maybe having more people around would suit her. As for Lacey, she needed to get used to having people in the house, to ease into hosting a bed-and-breakfast gradually, rather than waiting until she had a houseful of paying guests to feed in her big dining room. And who better than good old Vito?

“There’s always room for more around a happy home’s table,” Nonna said, rocking.

“I guess we could move it out from the wall.”

Vito walked by carrying a double stack of boxes, and Lacey hurried to the kitchen door. “Are you okay with that? Do you need help?” Though from the way his biceps stretched the sleeves of his white T-shirt, he was most definitely okay.

“There’s nothing wrong with me below the neck.” He sounded uncharacteristically irritable. “I can carry a couple of boxes.”

Where had that come from? She lifted her hands and took a step back. “Fine with me,” she said sharply.

From above them on the stairs, Charlie crowed, “Ooo-eee, a fight!”

Vito ignored him and stomped up the stairs, still carrying both boxes.

“You come in here, son.” Nonna stood behind Lacey, beckoning to Charlie.

Lacey bit her lip. She didn’t want Nonna to overexert herself. And being from an earlier generation, she might have unreasonable expectations of how a kid like Charlie would behave.