Accompanying Alice Page 10

  “So,” she said into the stony silence, “anyway, we’re here.” She waved a hand at Gabriel. “I’m sure you all know who this is. Gabriel, these are my sisters. Helen you met yesterday. Meg...”

  She began with the petite redheaded management consultant in jeans and the company T-shirt, indicating each sister in turn. Edith, the nurse, was a tall slim brunette with an olive complexion and green eyes. Twink, another brunette slightly shorter than Edith, wearing a fluorescent green sundress, managed a law office. Sam-the-paramedic-volunteer-fireman was the one in the denim miniskirt and yellow polo shirt, and Grace— “Where’s Grace?” Alice asked.

  “Not here,” Twink said helpfully.

  “Nobody’s seen her since yesterday,” Edith breathed.

  “Not since Ma said she came home and took a shower and left.”

  “I called Phil,” Meg put in. “But no one’s seen him, either.”

  “We figure they’ve gone off somewhere and eloped,” Sam said, “and left us to deal with the relatives while they have a bang-up time. I told certain people—” she looked at Helen, who ignored her “—this thing was getting too big.”

  “Don’t worry.” Twink winked broadly. “If they’ve eloped, we’ll get ‘em. I called a friend of mine with the state police and asked if they’d keep an eye out for Grace’s car. They’ll bring ‘em back.” She smiled gently. “I told him to feel free to use handcuffs.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow at this pronouncement, but wisely remained silent. Helen gave Twink a withering look and linked arms with Gabriel, tugging him to one side to impart dark secrets.

  “Y’see,” she murmured, “there’s something you ought to know about before you get any more involved with one of us than you already are. We have a—” she made an expressive circling gesture with one hand “—little problem in this family that nobody talks about. It’s called com-mu-ni-ca-tion. Nobody does. Not even—” she eyed Alice pointedly “—those of us with teenagers to preach at who really ought to know better.”

  “Those of us who live in stone houses,” Alice suggested meaningfully back, “really shouldn’t throw glass.”

  “You always say that,” Helen complained. “What does it mean?”

  “It means,” Meg said, “that if the shoe fits your foot you ought to take it out of your mouth and put it there.”

  “What? Me?” Helen put a dramatic hand to her heart. ‘‘I’m the only one of us who communicates with anyone. Don’t you get my memos? Aren’t they clearly stated? Don’t I always tell you who’s doing what with whom and when?”

  “Telling.” Edith stabbed an aggrieved finger at her. “You’re always telling people to do things. You never ask, you never suggest, you never listen.”

  “But I’m a major,” Helen said, surprised. “That’s what majors do.”

  “Not in this family,” Sam said hotly, ‘‘‘cause I’ll tell you, Major, if I’d wanted someone to tell me what to do all the time, I’d have joined the army myself to save you the trouble. I mean, you’re not even the eldest.”

  “Yeah,” Twink nodded. “That’s right. Alice and Meg are both older—”

  Gabriel drew Alice aside. “How long does this go on?”

  “Until you stop it,” she murmured. “It’s a test to see if you’ve got what it takes to handle Brannigans. I tried to warn you.”

  “I thought you were a Meyers.”

  She cocked her head, surprised. Surely, she’d told him...

  No. They’d said a lot about themselves, one another, without sharing the details. The things he seemed instinctively to know about her, like the things she knew about him, came from somewhere else, from some deeper timeless knowledge.

  Heart to heart, she whispered to herself, then immediately shunned the thought. Even a wide-open all-seeing heart needed time, and hers was neither.

  “I was married to a Meyers for about a month,” she said. “I kept his name for the girls. Pretense of respectability, you know?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s old.”

  Again something passed between them, some intense deep-seated understanding, that curious sensation of fullness and not being alone that strangers could share because they didn’t have to worry about what secrets they knew about one another—or didn’t know.

  Except they weren’t exactly strangers anymore. And they’d begun to share secrets.

  In the instant of recognition, their eyes slunk away from one another like thieves after a job.

  “So,” Gabriel said, “how do you suggest I handle your sisters?”

  Alice shrugged. “Ignore them, they hate that. It always gets their attention.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Meet you here after I pick up a tux?”

  “Or across the hall at Camille’s Bridal Boutique.”

  “See you in a few.” He brushed her mouth with a brief goodbye and started away, then turned back. “What name?”

  “Witoczynsk—”

  “Brannigan,” Meg, Helen, Edith, Twink and Sam shouted after him. “Phil’s marrying a Brannigan.”

  “Of course,” Gabriel muttered and disappeared.

  The minute he was out of sight, Alice’s sisters dragged her into the bridal boutique changing room and pounced on her.

  “Where did you find him?”

  “At the side of the road.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “A... while.”

  “Are you going to keep him?”

  “He’s not a stray dog.”

  “Are you living together?”

  “For now.”

  “What are you going to do with him tonight while we’re there?”

  Tonight? Phooey. She’d forgotten about tonight. Too bad they hadn’t. “Nothing in front of you, but he’ll be there.”

  “Ah-ah, Alice.” Twink brushed one index finger over the other, shaming. “No kids under eighteen and no men of any age. You made the rules.”

  “So, I’m changing the rules. Big deal.” She bit down on the automatic defensiveness, ignoring her sisters’ further comments by concentrating her attention on the brilliant teal, dark green, electric blue, violet and bright pink tea-length dresses Edith, Sam, Meg, Helen and Twink wore respectively. Then she smoothed down the bodice of her own deep red scooped-neck cap-sleeved gown. The satin was smooth and cool to touch, easily the prettiest thing she’d ever worn. And even she of the self-deprecating attitude was willing to admit the color brought out the best in her. She should have known better than to distrust the artist in Grace.

  She turned, posing in front of the mirror while the boutique’s seamstress tucked and poked at the fabric. The one thing Grace had refused to quibble about were the bridesmaids’ dresses. She’d refused any suggestion that summer was the time for pretty pastels, insisting instead that her sisters be outfitted in real colors that not only suited their personalities and complexions, but also in colors that didn’t look as if they’d wash out in the rain. An overall theme of everlasting commitment was what she was looking for, she’d said, reflected by colors that looked as if they were committed to something besides a single afternoon’s wear and a plastic bag in the back of the closet. Grace had chosen colors that looked as though they’d last forever, which was precisely how long she wanted her marriage to last.

  Alice watched her sisters turn, preen and laugh, each beautiful in her own vivid hue. She wished she’d been as certain as Grace was about what she’d wanted for her own wedding—and marriage. But then, she wasn’t Grace, or any of her other sisters, either. She was just plain old waffling never-knew-what-she-wanted Alice, who’d always thought that life should come equipped with rules—something numbered and printed on a little card she could carry around in

  her purse like a restaurant tip table to review whenever she couldn’t figure out what to do next.

  With a wry smile, Alice stepped out of her dress and handed it to the waiting salesclerk, who promised to box it up and have it at the front of the shop for
her when Alice was ready. Not knowing what to do next seemed to be the flaw of her generation. They’d made every effort to do things better than their parents, but every time they thought they had it all figured out, some study came along and proved them wrong. Stupid, but true. In a day and age of ever available expert analyses, the only thing you could trust to tell you right from wrong was your conscience and your heart. And if your conscience lied and your heart had been wrong once too many times in the past, what did you have left?

  Someday, Alice promised herself tartly. Like Dad used to say, you’ve always got Someday.

  “But how do you know when it’s Someday, Mom?” Alice could still hear the aggrieved note in Allyn’s voice when her daughter had been eight and wondering when they could take a vacation to Disneyland, when she could get a horse, when they could buy a new house. The answer had always been “Someday.” But how do you know when it’s Someday, Mom? ...

  “You’ll know,” Alice heard herself assure Allyn, “when you’re old enough to reach out and grab it.” .

  “But what if I don’t, Mom? What if I don’t?”

  “Don’t worry,” Alice promised, stroking her hair. “You’ll know, my darling, you’ll know.”

  But maybe Allyn hadn’t really been worried about how she’d know when Someday was here, after all. Maybe what she’d really been worried about was what would happen if she didn’t reach out and grab it.

  Nothing, Alice thought, bending down and yanking the laces of her tennis shoes too tight for comfort as she felt the swell of the familiar unnamed anger and frustration. If you didn’t grab for Someday when you had a chance, absolutely nothing happened.

  She straightened, jaw set. The girls were grown and out grabbing handfuls of their own Somedays. They didn’t need her, not today, and maybe not tomorrow, either. She was out of a job, but maybe that wasn’t so bad. Maybe that was just Someday’s Opportunity knocking, looking for her, challenging her. After the wedding, after she finished up her commitments to Grace, maybe she could take some time to find herself, too, travel like Allyn, go to college, take risks....

  She stepped purposefully out of the dressing room, accepted her dress box from the woman at the counter and followed her sisters out of the shop. Gabriel was slouched against the wall beside the boutique, plastic-wrapped tuxedo over one shoulder. He straightened gladly when he saw her, and Alice felt a flicker of warmth ignite in her veins at the same time she felt her resolve drain. So much for Someday, she thought. Because if he kissed her hello, she damned well knew that, whether she intended to or not, she’d go to hell kissing him back.

  Chapter Six

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” He reached for her box and fell naturally into step beside her, smiling, glad to see her. Enjoying himself, when from all past experience, he should not. “I ran into Skip at the tux shop,” he murmured softly. “We had a long talk. I invited him to lunch.”

  “Yeah?” His breath in her ear made her senses buzz. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to run. There was a piece of thread on the sleeve of his shirt. She reached over and picked it off. “What about?”

  “Seems the man has had quite a crush on the major since high school to the point where he—no offense, he says—was willing to go out with you to please her. And I think,” he said conspiratorially, “if you’re interested, I know what we can do about the major.”

  “Really?” She liked the twinkle in his eye, the sound of the chuckle he shared only with her. “That sounds evil but promising.”

  Gabriel nodded.

  “Funny,” Alice mused aloud, “I didn’t picture opportunity wearing a Band-Aid when it knocked.”

  “Oh, honey, I haven’t been called opportunity for a long, long time.” Acrimony was faint but evident. He covered it quickly, asking, “How should opportunity dress?”

  “Sirens, bells, flashing lights.”

  Gabriel grinned. “Is that another way of saying “I don’t know what it looks like but I don’t want to miss it when it comes”?”

  “You got it.” She colored slightly when he lifted a brow at her vehemence. “I’ve just...” She hunched one shoulder. “I’ve just been waiting for an opportunity to do something about Helen for years.”

  “I see,” was all he said, but his eyes laughed at her, called her liar.

  “I have,” she insisted to them.

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded, teasing. “Sure.”

  Alice yanked open the outside door, furious. “Shut up,” she hissed. “What do you know?”

  “I know—” he stepped outside and faced her, barring her path “—that if I dropped everything and kissed you right now the way a real lover would, you’d kiss me back into oblivion and run.”

  Alice gazed up at him, breath shortened, heart bumping fast against her ribs. Gabriel’s face was calm; his eyes were not. They challenged; they desired. They were uncertain. Alice gripped the handle of the door. This was crazy; it was nuts. She’d never been adept at dating, nor allowed herself much curiosity about bedroom gymnastics on the whole. Since the girls had been born, she’d avoided the former at most costs and had never felt she could afford the latter. But she wasn’t a schoolgirl either. She shouldn’t feel like one, behave like one.

  Her tongue flicked around the inside of her teeth, her eyes dropped to his mouth, couldn’t seem to leave it. She had so much to confront about sex and sexuality, things to understand—things to accept—about, herself.

  Why she thought it was wrong to feel the way she felt. Why she denied desire existed, or joked crassly with her sisters to cover up her fears of it. The things she couldn’t reconcile with herself.

  Like the very idea of love and marriage.

  Like why she quite definitely, quite decidedly, wanted Gabriel.

  She watched his lips bow and constrict, thin then part.

  Deliberately she shut her eyes, shut out Gabriel, shut out the curl of heat at the base of her spine. Her body and her emotions didn’t control her anymore. She didn’t let them use her; she knew how to ignore them. She was in charge.

  She lifted her chin and opened her eyes, meeting Gabriel’s unspoken dare with one of her own. “Move,” she said, shoving him aside. “I’m hungry. I want some lunch. And I want to do something about Helen before the wedding.”

  *

  The Irish-Mexican restaurant across the street from the Banquets ‘n More catering service was packed. Alice and Gabriel threaded their way past tables decorated with shamrocks and shillelaghs, beneath bright piñatas, around waiters and waitresses wearing green Irish bowlers and bright Mexican frills, to the arrangement of tables at the back where Alice’s sisters were already ensconced. Helen patted the empty chair beside her.

  “Sit, Gabriel,” she invited. “Is that what they call you? Gabriel? Not Gabe or Gabby?”

  Twink snorted indelicately. “Leave him alone, Helen. Would you want to be called Gabby? Besides, it doesn’t suit him. Neither does Gabe. He’s more of a…” she screwed up her face thoughtfully “Dane.”

  “Based on what?” Sam asked. “That he’s mostly blond, with Alice and because Matt’s middle name was Dane? Oops.” She put a hand to her mouth and glanced contritely at Alice when Meg slapped her arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. It just came out.”

  Alice flipped the remark aside with a hand, but not before Gabriel caught a flash of some involuntary deep-rooted pain mixed with self-disgust. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” She glanced around at Gabriel when he slid a gentle palm across her back and pulled out her chair for her. “I told him about Matt.”

  “And a lot of other things.” His eyes on Alice were intense and warm, seeing. “We don’t keep secrets.”

  He slipped into the seat between her and Helen and angled his chair closer to slide an arm across the back of Alice’s. His fingers slid into the hair at the base of her neck, slid down again, massaging. She didn’t want to be aware of him, not when he was performing. But she was aware of him, couldn’t help it, cou
ldn’t—

  “So, Gabriel,” Helen asked, “what do you do?”

  Gabriel’s hand tensed on Alice’s neck, then relaxed. “I’m in insurance—an investigator.” Not quite the truth, not completely a lie. “What do you do?”

  “Same general line of work—Military Claims Investigations.” Helen grinned. “I’m a negotiations expediter. When all else fails, they bring me in to unravel the red tape. You?”

  “No.” Gabriel shook his head. “No red tape. I just try to make a difference.”

  “Do you succeed?”

  Gabriel’s grip on the back of Alice’s neck grew painful; his eyes were blank. “Not always.”

  Something about the way he said it drew their eyes and their silence. Alice had the sudden fierce urge to protect him from that silence. She reached over and squeezed his thigh, leaned into the table confidingly, drawing her sisters’ attention. “He’s just come off a rough case—family dispute. It didn’t go well.” She settled back, nodded at an approaching waitress and opened her menu. “Everybody know what they want for lunch? Oh, look, there’s Skip. Helen, move over, we’ll get another chair and ask him to join us.”

  *

  From there, lunch turned into a round of pleasant family bickering and teasing that included Gabriel and in which he participated—made him unconsciously feel as if he belonged. Mixed in amongst the banter were notes about the wedding preparations—who was in charge of which disasters—and the current state of the sisters’ extra-family lives. Rebecca and Allyn were discussed by aunts who thought it was pretty funny that Alice, the big sister who had advised

  all of them about growing up while they were, should now be so confused by her own children doing the same. Sam’s newly announced pregnancy was congratulated, horror stories about

  labor rooms and breast feeding were shared—much to Skip’s embarrassment and Gabriel’s amusement. Then Twink, whose infant was barely two months old, and Edith, whose children were already nine and eleven, and Meg, who’d been married almost two years and showed no inclination toward having babies, were laughingly ordered to get busy and produce.