The Forever Kind

THE FOREVER KIND

By Kaitlin Ashbury

Copyright 2013 Kaitlin Ashbury

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

The Forever Kind

Kaitlin Ashbury

CHAPTER ONE

By the time she arrived at Lombardi’s to start the inventory, the entire population of Bramble Gap was abuzz with the news that Beth O’Neal was pregnant.

Beth left the family clinic a mere forty-five minutes earlier, but Luanne Russo had been the clinic’s nurse for the past six years, and she had a mouth the size of Texas. She considered herself an essential advocate for the freedom of information. Before the bell over the clinic’s front door finished tinkling in Beth’s wake, Luanne had her mother and best friend on a conference call line.

Beth O’Neal, Bramble Gap’s sweetest and shiest citizen, coming in to see Doctor Clark at the family clinic was the best gossip since Judd Leroy had been caught with his wife’s younger sister inflagrante the year before. Besides, as Luanne pointed out to her mother and Cathy Nickerson, her best friend since fourth grade, if Beth hadn’t wanted everybody in Bramble Gap to know about her condition, then why hadn’t she gone up to Tucson? The drive was only an hour and change. Really, if you thought about it, Luanne was doing her a favor by spreading the news.

If Cathy thought Luanne’s motivation stemmed more from the fact that Beth beat her out for valedictorian in high school than a feeling of neighborly concern, Cathy didn’t say so.

When Beth pushed through the side door of Lombardi’s, the entire kitchen went silent. The first wisps of worry stirred in her stomach as she caught everyone staring at her framed in the doorway to the alley. In thirteen years of working at Lombardi’s, Beth had never heard the kitchen silent when staff was on site.

Owned and operated by the family for almost forty-two years, Lombardi’s was a Bramble Gap institution. Angelo Lombardi didn’t believe in playing favorites. So Beth had started as a busser in high school with her best friend, Angelo’s daughter Lisa, and worked her way up to server. After Angelo’s heart attack during Beth’s first year at Yale, she returned home and stepped in as a part time manager and put herself through state college in Tucson on her Lombardi’s salary. And when she graduated, Angelo and Mona had offered her the management position.

The kitchen erupted, the staff speaking in loud, exaggerated voices. Beth paused, frozen half-in half-out of the kitchen. She had never enjoyed attention. Having eyes on her more often than not made Beth’s back break out in a cold sweat. She preferred to go about her life remaining as invisible as possible.

So, for about ten seconds, Beth seriously considered backing up through the doorway and hotfooting it down the alley to her car. But several heartbeats passed with no one so much as glancing her way, and Beth forced her feet forward, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Hi, Beth, Melody called out, her voice even perkier than usual.

She and Dennis, the other server on the dinner shift, were seated at the counter rolling silverware into napkins and dropping them into piles in large wooden baskets. Neither looked at her closely. The rest of the staff echoed Melody’s greeting.

Beth smiled at the room in general, trying to ignore the churning of her stomach as she made her way toward her small office in its dark corner off the kitchen. Catching sight of herself in the mirror hanging behind her desk, she stifled a groan. Mystery solved. Everyone had been staring because she looked like she’d been in a hurricane.

Beth’s large hazel eyes assessed the damage. Her straight brown hair had been in a neat bun before the rough afternoon wind had caught hold of it, and her cheeks had been chapped red. She tried to smooth the pieces back into place but they fell loose again, sliding through her fingers like sand until she gave up.

Sighing, she dropped her bag onto the tiny desk and collapsed into her chair. The message light on her phone caught her attention, blinking in a fanatic rhythm not unlike the overly loud voices still roaring in from the kitchen. Beth frowned as the sharp stab of worry that had ebbed in her stomach returned. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone with ginger fingers.

They’re just messages, Beth, she told herself. You’re being ridiculous.

Beth? Beth, are you there? Mona Lombardi paused as though waiting for Beth to respond through the voicemail. A string of Italian flowed out of the answering machine followed by a burst of air. Call me, Elizabeth.

The worry progressed to foreboding. Mona resorted to Italian in high-stress situations, a habit she picked up when Lisa and her older brother, Gabriel, had been small. Something was definitely wrong. But there were several more messages, so Beth jotted down a note to call Mona back as soon as she was done. The next message began, and Lisa’s voice came through the handset.

Beth, call me as soon as you get this. I mean it. Hang up and call me.

Fear grabbed at Beth’s throat. Oh God, it was Angelo, wasn’t it? He’d had a second heart attack. She had been telling him for months to cut back on the meats and cheeses; one heart attack was enough for a lifetime. But he was so stubborn. He never listened to anyone, just tweaked her nose and told her she’d get an ulcer from worrying so much. Which he was probably right about if the sharp stab in her stomach indicated anything.

Her fingers were shaking so hard as she tried to dial Lisa’s cell that they kept slipping off the buttons. What would she do if Angelo wasn’t okay? Mona and Angelo Lombardi had been second parents to Beth since she was seven. She and her mother, Eleanor, went to their house for dinner every Sunday.

A sharp rap on the doorframe had Beth’s head jerking up to tell whomever it was that she needed to make an important phone call and the menu crisis would have to wait. But when she saw it was Angelo shadowing her doorway, she leapt to her feet and flung herself at him.

"Hey now. What’s this? You okay, bambolina?"

She took a deep breath, filling her nose with the scents of yeast and tomato, the smells Angelo had been carrying as long as she had known him. Her heart’s fluttering finally started calming as she felt him solid and sturdy as ever.

I’m okay. I just…I had some weird messages. I thought something had happened. A horrible thought made her throat clench. Is Gabe okay?

Angelo’s brow furrowed. Why wouldn’t Gabriel be okay? Was there a fire?

No, she said, shaking her head. Not that I know of. I just…I’m sorry, Angelo.

His pale blue eyes crinkled in his weathered face as he gave her a reassuring smile. "Bambolina, what happened? You’re all aflutter, today."

Beth tucked one of the loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s nothing. I’m being silly. I just had some messages from Mona and Lisa, and they sounded so worried. I thought that…

You thought something happened to me, is that it? A heart attack maybe? While Beth blushed in her embarrassment, Angelo took her cheeks in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. You are very sweet, Beth. But you’re stuck with me. And as for my son, Gabriel is too stubborn to die. Just like his mother, that boy.

Her lips quirked, but Beth controlled her smile. Whatever you say, Angelo.

"You look tired, bambolina."

I’m all right.

You work too hard.

I don’t work nearly as hard as you do.

Cooking isn’t work, Angelo told her. Cooking is life.

Because you love it. And I love what I do. I love this place. So it’s not hard.

Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. But you know how Mona is. She worries.

Beth bit back a smile, knowing Mona hadn’t said a thing. I know she does, Angelo.

It’s best not to mention this, he told her. You know how she is about people fussing over her.

My lips are sealed.

You’re a good girl, Beth. A clatter of metal from the kitchen made a frown appear on his face. You checking my sauce again, Carlos? What’d I tell you about sticking your spoon in my pizza sauce?

Beth watched Angelo amble back out into the kitchen then moved back to the phone. This time, her fingers were steady on the number pad.

Beth, is that you? Lisa’s voice came over the line.

It’s me.

Close the door.

What?

You’re at the restaurant, right? The number came up. Close the door to your office.

Lisa and Beth had been inseparable since Eleanor’s first shift at Lombardi’s, and Beth knew her best friend’s voice as well as she did her own. A note of steel was audible in Lisa’s tone that Beth hadn’t heard since prom night when the girls had been convinced Robbie McAvoy had stood Beth up. In the end, it turned out he was only late because of a flat, and he apologized profusely, but, for an hour, Beth had feared that Lisa might actually kill him. Or at least maim him.

So when Lisa said close the door, Beth did as directed. Okay, what’s going on, Lees?

Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?

Beth paused, waiting for the laughter to start on the other end. It didn’t. Lisa, what on earth are you talking about?

I got a call about half an hour ago from Patricia Miller. You know, the new nail girl at the salon? Apparently, Cathy Nickerson came in for her standing Wednesday appointment – Can you believe she gets her nails done every other day? Who does she think she is, Paris Hilton?

Lisa.

Sorry, right. Cathy told Patricia that Luanne Warner –

Russo.

What?

Luanne married Tony Russo four years ago. You know that.

Whatever. She might change her name but she’s still snotty Luanne Warner. To this day, I cannot believe that girl tried to oust you out of valedictorian. Unbelievable gall, I tell you.

So Luanne told Cathy, Beth prompted, her head beginning to spin.

Right. Luanne called Cathy as soon as you left the clinic. She said you were in there to get the results of your pregnancy test, and now the whole town knows.

She said that? Beth marveled at the outright lie.

Lisa made a strangled noise. She didn’t use the word pregnant, no, but she implied it and, believe me, Cathy got the message.

The reality of the situation was starting to sink in. Beth’s spine gave out, and she collapsed back into her chair. I can’t believe this.

You know how fast gossip spreads around here. There are only a couple thousand of us, sweetie, and nothing ever happens.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that Lisa only rambled like this when she was nervous, frightened, or about to vomit. Or all three. I’m not pregnant.

Beth’s words cut into Lisa’s continued monologue and silence filled the line as Lisa switched gears. When she spoke again, her voice was close to a whisper. You know you could tell me, right, sweetie?

I know. But I’m not pregnant.

Thank God.

The words were in stereo, and Beth looked over her shoulder to find Lisa standing just on the other side of the glass window in the office door. They both hung up as Lisa came in, shutting the door again behind her.

Lisa Lombardi and Beth O’Neal were about as opposite in design as they could get and still be the same species. Lisa had black hair twisting in the softest curls Beth could imagine, and her olive complexion was flawless. Her strong features gave her an unconventional, striking beauty. But in Beth’s opinion, Lisa’s most enviable quality was her height. All of the Lombardis were tall and lean. Barely five-foot-three, Beth felt pocket-sized standing in the midst of the Lombardi family.

Why in the world does Luanne think you’re pregnant?

I don’t know, Beth told her, trying to control the quiver of panic in her voice.

Well, why were you there?

I needed a new birth control prescription.

Lisa sat on the edge of Beth’s desk. Why didn’t you drive to Tucson like a sane person?

It’s inventory week. I couldn’t drive up there. And the pharmacy won’t let anyone but Doctor Clark’s office fax in prescriptions. Beth sighed, the sound coming out closer to a whimper. The entire town thinks I’m pregnant?

Yes. On my way here, Jacqueline Young stopped me on the street to offer her congratulations. Lisa’s lip curled. Like she meant that. She’s always been jealous of you. Remember when she froze your bra? She must be loving this.

Lees, that was in eighth grade. And it was your bra.

She knew it was because Beth hadn’t needed a bra until she was sixteen years old. And starting high school flat-chested and overweight had been excruciating. Not something one easily forgot. By sixteen she had slimmed down to a size eight with a modest B cup, and she’d been ruthless in keeping the weight off in her twenties. Though in recent months, she might have slipped to a size ten thanks to the crab cakes Angelo had added to the menu.

Lisa shrugged one slim shoulder, unconcerned with details. Even Mike flagged me down –

Mike? As in Mike Hudson?

Yeah, Mike Hudson. Tall, blonde, firefighter? Do we know another Mike? Lisa asked.

Mike knows? Does the entire fire department know? Beth swallowed. Does Gabe know?

Well, Mike didn’t mention Gabe, and I haven’t heard from him. I don’t think he’s heard yet. But it’s really only a matter of time.

What am I going to say to him? Beth moaned. What will he think of me?

Just tell him it isn’t true. And try to get to him before he explodes on someone.

Oh, god. He wouldn’t. Would he?

Lisa made a face. Beth, if someone even looks at you wrong, he goes into bear mode. You know you’re his favorite.

Ignoring that, Beth resisted the urge to twist her hair around her fingers. What do you want me to do, Lisa? Walk up to your brother and say ‘Gee, Gabe. I know you must have heard some rumors, but guess what? I’m not pregnant!’

That’s one way of going about it, I guess. I’d try a softer approach. Look, Beth, this really isn’t a big deal.

Beth gaped at her. Now that she knew the truth, Lisa was far too calm. "Are you kidding? The