Page 4 of A Valentine's Day Gift
Chapter Two
Vinny returned to Allison’s front door the next day at the same time to call Angel. And the day after that. A week later, he couldn’t even pretend it was for Angel anymore. He was there for that moment of brief connection in Allison’s kitchen, standing there smiling at him, asking after his boy. She understood that close tie of family, that love for your children. His mother-in-law, Loretta, had become irritated with him checking in, but he didn’t care. If he wanted to check in, he would.
He felt a little less alone in those brief moments talking to Allison about their kids. She told him about her three boys, close in age to his own, and what they were into. Gabe and Luke loved video games and riding their bikes. Jared, the kindergarten kid, was the daredevil and already skilled at skateboarding. He told her about his boys. Vince and Nico were into sports—football, basketball, and baseball—like him. Angel was just starting in baseball. That one was too shrimpy for football. His wife, Maria, had decreed it, and Vinny honored her request. Vince and Nico were big like him. Those daily talks were the bright spot in his day.
Today was the Friday before the long Memorial Day weekend, and he was looking forward to having the time off to spend with his kids. He went and got the cordless phone himself, Allison already expecting him while she fried up a couple of hot dogs for Jared, acknowledging him with a wave and a smile. He found himself smiling back, a foreign feeling.
He called Angel, asked him about his day, and then Angel unexpectedly touched a nerve. “Gotta go! Nonna and I are working in the garden today.”
That had been Maria’s garden and hadn’t been touched in a year. “What’re you doing with it?” he managed over the tightness in his throat.
“First we have to pull weeds; then we’re planting new stuff. Bye!” He hung up.
His eyes were suddenly hot. The garden was an eyesore, dead plants, overrun by weeds, but somehow looking at it had reminded him of Maria. Slowly dying as she did. It was morbid but comforting, reflecting back his reality. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. This was how it should be. The young breathing life into the world. New things should have a chance to grow.
“Can I use your hammer?” a little voice asked.
He opened his eyes to find Jared standing in front of him, pointing at the hammer on Vinny’s tool belt. Vinny had a kid-size hammer in his toolbox he let his boys use. “You’ll have to ask your mom if it’s okay.”
“Mom!” he hollered at the top of his lungs. “Can I use the worker’s hammer?”
Allison walked in, saying to Jared, “I thought you were watching TV. I told you not to bother the workers. And his name is Mr. Marino.” She looked up at Vinny. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s no problem.”
Jared ran back to the living room, probably figuring he had no chance of using a hammer now.
“How’s Angel doing today?” she asked.
“Good.” His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “He’s working in his ma’s garden.” His throat closed and he needed to get out fast before he broke down. Allison was blocking the way to the kitchen, where he usually put the phone back. He handed her the phone. “Here.”
“Is everything okay?”
Nothing would ever be okay again. He met her blue eyes reflecting real concern. In that moment, he needed to share the pain with someone. Sometimes it was too much to keep bottled inside, being strong for his boys.
His voice came out hoarse. “Some days are harder than others. My wife died last month. It’s been difficult for all of us.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. I’m so sorry.” She stepped closer, her hands lifting, and for a moment he thought she might hug him. But then her hands lowered and she squeezed his hand with her smaller one in a firm warm grip. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thank you.” There was nothing she could do, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.
She nodded, releasing his hand, gazing at him with so much sympathy he had to turn from her.
“I’d better get back to work,” he muttered and quickly headed out.
He threw himself back into work, trying to keep his focus on anything but what was in his head—young Allison making him feel less alone. He was drawn to her, wanting her comfort, and it pained him that he wanted that from another woman. Maria was his comfort, always had been.
He and Tony were loading up the truck at the end of the day when he felt a soft hand on his arm. He turned to find Allison standing there, holding a covered dish.
“I made you and the boys chicken parmigiana. I thought it would be nice for you to have a break from kitchen duty.” She gave him a small smile. “You know, start your long weekend off a little more relaxed.”
He never cooked. Loretta left dinner warming in the oven every night, frozen meals in the freezer for the weekend. Allisoncared. She saw his pain and wanted to lessen the burden.
He took it from her. “Thank you, Allison. I really appreciate it, and I’m sure the boys will too.”
“My friends call me Allie.”
He cracked a smile, so out of practice it felt strange. “Thank you, Allie.”
