“That’s just it. It reads like it’s been clipped or something.”
Zach inspected the envelope Stone had set to the edge of the desk. “Maybe it’s all he had time for.” He nodded toward the telegram. “What’s it say?”
Stone passed his lover the note. “It says there’s more than one ship.”
~11~
Candace studied Pitch thoughtfully while she set out a bowl of French bread between two garden salads.
They were having dinner at his place that night. Candace had toiled happily in the kitchen for the better part of an hour before laying the fruits of her labor to the kitchen island. She had watched Pitch in the living room during much of that time.
“Will you go with me to this thing?” Pitch called.
“I’m going anyway. Imani asked me to be her maid of honor.”
Pitch seemed thoroughly bewildered. “They do all that for weddings in Mozambique?”
“For this one, yes. Imani’s brother is getting married first in the traditional style. Her mother decided Roman’s and Imani’s would be more Western.”
Pitch sighed, slapped the envelope to his palm. “Should be somethin’ to see.”
Candace bit the corner of her lip. “You don’t seem happy about it.”
“Why would you think that?” He set aside the invite that had arrived by messenger and bore Mozambique postage.
Candace returned to the stove and removed a pot of egg noodles from the red hot eye. “I guessed you’d feel the same way you do about Gabriel and Giselle. The marriage you said wouldn’t last two years, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not happy they’re making a try for it, Candy. I think Giselle and Imani are good for my brothers, I just...”
“Don’t see why they should bother since it’s doomed. Especially Gabe and Giselle, right? With Athena loving her so. Hell’s gonna break loose when she finds out her new daughter-in-law is just like me and Imani,” she sang the words while working at the stove.
Pitch and Candace had also learned of Giselle’s heritage. The newlyweds had shared the story with them just before they all left the courthouse and were on the way to the Harlem reception. No time had been set to share the news with the rest of the family.
Candace worked diligently straining water from the noodles and then tossing them in the hearty stroganoff sauce she’d created from scratch. She gave a start when Pitch’s hand closed on her wrist. He waited until she looked up at him.
“I’m sorry, Candy.”
“For what, Vic? For making this about your brothers? You don’t have to, you know?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t have to try making this work if you don’t believe in it.”
“What the hell?” He easily thwarted the escape she tried to make by merely standing before her. “What the hell, Candy?”
“If you’re waiting for me to say it, I will.”
“What the fuck are you telling me Candace?”
He looked downright enraged, but she wouldn’t let herself be cowed. “Isn’t it obvious? It is to me. All this talk of your brothers’ relationships failing and here you stand conveniently leaving out your own.” She barely nodded when she saw that he understood. She tried to return to the stove, but he kept his place blocking her movement.
“Don’t!” She snapped when his hand brushed her elbow. “Not unless you’re going to be honest about what you want.”
“What I want is you.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to force her way around him. He only needed to use a fraction of his strength to stay her. “I want you, Candy,” he insisted. “But more than that, I want you to be happy.” He moved then, giving her space. “The best thing my last name has done for me and my brothers is keeping our names off the ‘Nam roll call.”
“Vic-”
“Let me finish. I’ve seen the toll this family takes, Candace. Sooner or later...”
“So there’s no room to even hope it might be different for us?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, baby.”
“Idiot,” she muttered despite the fact that he had endeared himself more to her then, than he ever had. She tugged the hem of his T-shirt emblazoned with The Cookie Monster. “The only one in danger of hurting me right now, is you.”
With a resolute nod, Pitch pulled Candace into a stifling hug. He closed his eyes as though the weight of reality made it impossible to keep them open.
~12~
“The Marsalas say you’re settling in well.”
“No choice, but to do exactly that, yes?”
Athena smiled patiently in response to Rosella Cavalese’s tersely delivered comment. “I’ve read that it’s best to stay as calm as possible during a pregnancy-especially for a first pregnancy.”
Rosella didn’t turn from the window where she idly fingered the curtains and stared out at the large neat yard beyond her bedroom at the Marsala home. “Calm might be easier to come by if I could talk to my child’s father.”
