sorry, Hope. That’s the most horrible story. My heart breaks for you. I know what it is like to give up a child. It created a hole in my heart that didn’t heal until we found Zach. But to have a child ripped away from you … to not know where she is or if she’s safe … I cannot imagine the pain. Is that why you haven’t talked about it?”
Talking about it stirred up feelings better left ignored. “Mostly, yes. Also, I don’t want people to look at me and see a grieving mother. They treat me … tenderly … and that just makes the whole thing more difficult to bear. It’s been easier to be seen as a kindergarten teacher.”
“Or a coach?” Maggie suggested. “Rumors are swirling around town that you and my son are bouncing something other than basketballs these days.”
Hope felt her cheeks warm. So, Maggie had finally heard. “We have been dating.”
Of course, they’d been doing a lot more than that, but she wasn’t about to go down that road.
“Well, I’m glad.” Maggie beamed at her. “As far as I’m concerned, Lucca couldn’t do better. He hasn’t had someone special in his life for a very long time.”
At the term “someone special,” Hope’s heart gave a little
Maggie gave her a baffled look. “A driving school? On Thanksgiving weekend?”
“Because I drive the basketball team to their away games. You know he went with us to our tournament in Serenity Valley.”
“Oh,” Maggie said. “I see. Yes, he told Richard that he went. I’m just so thrilled with the progress he’s made. But I have to ask: How does high-performance driving school have anything to do with driving a school bus?”
“Apparently, they teach not only how to drive, but how to wreck.”
“Ahh. That will make Lucca feel better about the away games. Oh, Hope. To know that he’s coaching again, and even riding on a team bus—it makes my heart sing. You’ve certainly had a positive impact on his life.” Giving Hope a speculative glance, she added, “You might think this is a passing fling, my dear, but I do not.”
Hope decided to ignore that. “The owner of the school is a friend of Lucca’s, a former NASCAR driver. He’s arranged private lessons for us on Saturday. I’m looking forward to it. It sounds like fun and”—she gave Maggie a pointed look—“like a carefree, casual date between friends.”
“You keep telling yourself that if you need to, Hope,” Maggie said. Then she glanced at the clock and changed the subject. “Before everyone else gets here, there’s something else I need to say to you. I want to apologize for spilling my guts to you in your classroom that day. I didn’t know about you and Lucca at the time. Regardless of how serious it is between you two or not, I put you in the middle of a family drama, and I’m sorry.”
“No need for that. I’ve been your friend longer than I’ve been Lucca’s, and I’m glad you could talk to me.”
“If it was awkward for you …”
“It hasn’t been. To be honest, Lucca hasn’t said much about you and Richard since you had your family meeting.”
“Really? What about Gabi?”
Hope hesitated. “Gabi is a little more …”
“Stubborn?” her mother suggested.
“Expressive.”
“I know. She’s hurt, and that hurts my heart in turn. But I feel as if I’m at a crossroads here. Even if my involvement with Richard doesn’t last, this defines my relationship with my children going forward. Gabi will just have to—”
“Wash dishes after dinner?” the woman herself asked as she breezed into the kitchen carrying a huge bouquet of yellow roses. “It’s the twins’ year to do it. I keep track.” She handed her mother the flowers, and both her tone and her expression grew serious. “I’m sorry, Mom. I acted like a bitch and I feel horrible about it.” She laced her fingers as if in prayer and added, “I love you so much, and I want you to be happy. Will you forgive me?”
Maggie transformed in an instant, and in the way of loving mothers, opened her arms. “Oh, baby. Of course I will.”
The Romano women embraced, then Gabi pulled back with tears in her eyes. “I don’t have to do the dishes, do I?”
Maggie dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “No, you’re right. It is the twins’ turn. But you do have to peel potatoes.”
Soon easy conversation filled the air along with the appetite-stimulating aromas of roasting turkey. Celeste arrived with pies, and shortly after her, Savannah entered the kitchen carrying cornbread dressing. Maggie added her daughter-in-law’s dish to the warming drawer, saying, “We’re going downright southern with our feast this year.”
“Honey,” Celeste said, the sound of her native South Carolina strong in her voice, “wait until you get a taste of my bourbon pecan pie. I do believe it’s the one item in my culinary repertoire that could give Sarah Murphy a run for her money. Now, tell us, Maggie. Have you enjoyed your new kitchen today?”
Maggie launched into an enthusiastic endorsement of her new appliances, and she was showing off her dishwasher as her sons arrived. Lucca moved to Hope’s side and bent and gave her a casual kiss. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
He introduced her to Max and Tony, who made typical ditch-this-guy-and-run-off-with-me brotherly comments that amused her. Just as the conversation turned to the day’s football games, Richard and his family knocked on the front door.
“He looks like he’s entering the lion’s den,” Max muttered as the newcomers filed into the inn.
“Can you blame him?” Gabi asked. Then she pasted a big, welcoming smile on her face and swept forward. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’m so glad you could join us for our Thanksgiving meal.”
Maggie beamed a smile her daughter’s way, then made introductions. Hope shook hands with Richard’s son, Andrew, and Andrew’s wife, Ellen, then turned to their daughter, Claire. The girl had her father’s dark hair and her mother’s big green eyes and the cutest little button nose. Hope’s hand tightened around Lucca’s in a punishing grip. “Hello, Claire. I am very happy to meet you.”
Claire smiled shyly. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“Hope?” Lucca asked softly. “You okay?”
She retreated toward the kitchen, blinking away sudden tears and embarrassed by her reaction. This was ridiculous. She met ten-year-old girls all the time. Telling Maggie about Holly must have stirred her emotions up. That and the fact that it was Thanksgiving, and holidays were always hard.
Holidays were a time for family. Her family was gone, taken away.
“Hope?” Lucca called after her.
Raw inside, Hope couldn’t prevent her tears from overflowing and rolling down her cheeks. Fiercely, she wiped them away with her fingertips as she stepped into the kitchen, Lucca at her heels. “Honey? What’s the matter?”
“It’s Thanksgiving. My fifth one without her. I should be cooking in my own kitchen with Holly peeling the potatoes like Gabi did for Maggie. I should be teaching her how to make piecrust and watching Santa close out the Macy’s parade on TV. I should be continuing our own traditions! But that’s not happening. It may never happen. What is she doing today? Is she even having a holiday? Or is she with people who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving? Sometimes it’s just so hard. I don’t know where she is or who she’s with. Sometimes … oh, Lucca, I hate myself for this but … but … sometimes I even envy Daniel. Is that not the most horrible thing? It’s horrible and unspeakable what happened to Justin, but Daniel knows. I don’t know. I may never know.”
Lucca reached out to her and tried to take her into his arms, but Hope didn’t want to be held; she didn’t want to be comforted. “I shouldn’t have come here. I thought this year would be okay. I thought that as long as I
