The Soldier's Secret Child

Vito blinked and looked more closely, seeing how the man’s head lolled to one side, held up by a special support. He wore a hoodie and sweats, and as Vito watched, the older woman put a bite of something into his mouth.

“Wounded in service?”

Lacey nodded. “I think he was a Marine.”

“Is a Marine,” Vito corrected. “And I’m sorry. You’re right. I need to get out of my own head. I’m more fortunate than a lot of guys.” He met her eyes. “Gerry included, and I’m a jerk to focus on myself.”

She shrugged. “We all do that sometimes.”

Had Lacey always had this steady maturity? He couldn’t help but remember her as a younger girl, pestering him and her brother when they’d wanted to go out and do something fun. And he remembered how flightily she’d fallen for Gerry, swept away by love and unable to listen to anyone’s warnings.

Now though, there was real thoughtfulness to her. She was quieter than she’d been, and more assertive.

He liked that. Liked a woman who’d call him on his dumb mistakes.

And he didn’t need to be thinking about how much he liked the new Lacey. Best to get to the real reason for their lunch. “So, I was looking into options for Charlie and me,” he said. “I talked to the family Nonna rented her house to.”

“And? Did you ask if they’d let her out of the contract?”

“I couldn’t even bring it up.” He lifted his hands, shrugging. “They’re thrilled with the house and the price Nonna gave them, and they need the space. And she’s pregnant out to here.” He held a hand in front of his stomach.

“Well, look who’s back in town!” Old Mr. Love from the hardware store, who had to be in his eighties, stopped by their table and patted his shoulder. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere!”

Vito stood and greeted the man, and then looked at the gray-haired woman with him. “Miss Minnie Falcon? Is that you?”

“That’s right, young man. You’d better not forget your old Sunday school teacher.”

“I couldn’t ever forget.” He took her hand, gently. Unlike some of the other kids in Sunday school, he’d actually appreciated Miss Minnie’s knowledge of the Old and New Testament, and the way she brought the stories to life, infusing them with a sense of biblical history.

Mr. Love was leaning toward Lacey. “I was hoping you’d find romance.” His voice, meant to be low, carried clearly to Vito and Miss Minnie. “Now that Buck’s out of your hair, it’s your turn, young lady.” He nodded toward Vito, raising an eyebrow.

“Harold!” Miss Minnie scolded. “Don’t make assumptions. Come on. Let’s get that corner table before someone else takes it.” She patted Vito’s arm. “It was nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger. We like visitors over at the Senior Towers.” She turned and headed across the restaurant at a brisk pace, pushing her wheeled walker.

“When a lady talks, you listen.” Mr. Love gave Vito an apologetic shrug as he turned and followed Miss Minnie, putting a hand on her shoulder.

After they were out of earshot, Vito lifted an eyebrow at Lacey. “They’re a couple?”

“It’s anybody’s guess. They both say they’re just friends, but tongues are wagging. It is Rescue River.”

“Gossip central,” he agreed, sipping coffee.

“And speaking of wagging tongues,” she said, “imagine what people will assume about us if you come and live in the guesthouse. Just like Mr. Love assumed when he saw us together here. They’ll think we’re a couple. And I’m not comfortable with that.”

“I understand.” He looked down at his hands, traced a scar that peeked out from his shirt cuff. “I’m not exactly a blue-ribbon bronco.”

“Vito!” She sounded exasperated. “You haven’t changed a bit since you had to try on six different shirts for the homecoming dance.”

The memory made him chuckle. He’d gotten her to sit on the porch and judge while he tried on shirt after shirt, running back to his room to change each time she’d nixed his selection.

Little did she know that Buck had begged him to keep her busy while he tried to steal a few kisses from cheerleader Tiffany Townsend, ostensibly at their house for help with homework.

“That was a long time ago,” he said now. “And the truth is, I have changed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still good-looking, okay? Women don’t mind scars.” Then she pressed her lips together as her cheeks grew pink.

His heart rate accelerated, just a little. Why was she blushing? Did she think he was good-looking?

But of course, she hadn’t seen the worst of his scars.

And even if there was a little spark between them, it couldn’t go anywhere. Because he was living with a secret he couldn’t let her discover.

“Look,” she said, and then took a big gulp of soda. “Getting back to the idea of you and Charlie staying at the guesthouse. I’d be willing to consider it, for Nonna’s sake, but...I’m trying to build a rich, full life as a single person, see, and I don’t want everyone asking me questions or trying to match us up. I’m just getting over being Lacey, the pitiful widow. And now, if I have this good-looking man living in my guesthouse...” A flush crept up her cheeks again and she dropped her head, propping her forehead on her hand. “I’m just digging myself in deeper here, huh?”

She did think he was good-looking. All of a sudden, other people’s curious stares didn’t bother him half as much.

“Can I get you anything else?” The perky waitress was back, looking at Lacey with curiosity. “You okay, Lacey?”

“I need something chocolate,” she said, looking up at the waitress but avoiding Vito’s eyes.

“Right away! I totally understand!”

Vito didn’t get women’s obsession with chocolate, but he respected it. He waited until the server had brought Lacey a big slice of chocolate cream pie before blundering forward with their meeting’s purpose. “I have an appointment tonight to talk to a woman who might want to rent me a couple of rooms in her farmhouse, out past the dog rescue. And there’s the top floor of a house available over in Eastley.”

“That’s good, I guess.” She toyed with the whipped cream on her pie. “But Nonna won’t like having you so far away. And Charlie could make more friends in town, right?”

“He really took a shine to the place and to you, it’s true.”

“And Nonna wants you to live there. She pulled out all the stops at breakfast, trying to talk me into it again.”

“She phoned me, too.”

Lacey was absently fingering the chain around her neck, and when he looked more closely, he saw what hung on it.

A man’s wedding ring. Undoubtedly Gerry’s.

He wasn’t worth it, Lace.

A shapely blonde in a tight-fitting dress approached their table. Tiffany Townsend. “Well, Vito D’Angelo. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

He snorted. “No.” And then he thought about what Lacey had said: Women don’t mind scars. And nobody, even a less-than-favorite classmate like Tiffany, deserved a rude response. He pasted on a smile. “Hey, Tiffany. It’s been a long time.”

“Where are you hiding yourself these days?” She bent over the table, and Vito leaned back in the booth, trying to look anywhere but down her low-cut dress. “We should get together sometime!” she gushed, putting a hand on his arm.

This was where a suave man would smile and flirt and make a date. But Vito had never been suave. He’d always been the one to console the girls whose boyfriends got caught on Tiffany’s well-baited line. Always the friend, happy to take them out for coffee or a milk shake and to listen to them.

Unfortunately for his love life, it hadn’t usually gone further than that.

Tiffany was looking at him expectantly. “Where did you say you’re staying?”