Mallory handed Rosa her empty plate. “As usual, dessert was awesome.” The food was what kept the mandatory Sunday dinners at her parents’ house bearable.
Rosa nodded. Though her dark hair was now speckled with gray, her smile still revealed her girlish dimples and laugh crinkles around her bright eyes. “Glad you liked it, Munchkin.”
Mallory smiled at the maid’s use of the pet name after all these years.
Rosa went around the table to pick up dessert plates, but Mallory’s sister, Vicky, was still working on her key lime pie. Though Mallory missed seeing Haley and Braiden, who were with their father today, she was glad Vicky’s children weren’t present in case things were about to get ugly.
“Mom, Dad . . . there’s something I need to tell you.” Mallory’s stomach churned and her voice was shaky.
Her mother set down her wineglass. Mallory was pretty sure she’d seen Rosa fill it four times.
“What is it?” Her mother raised her eyebrows. Eyebrows that seemed to be higher up on her forehead. And the tiny lines of time that feathered from each of her eyes had disappeared as well. Mallory was studying the changes, not sure if she liked them or not, when her mother cleared her throat. “What do you need to tell us, Mallory?”
She swallowed hard. “I’m donating one of my kidneys.”
Her father sat taller, his eyes sharp and assessing. Vicky halted her fork midway to her mouth, glancing back and forth between their parents. Her mother slammed a palm against the table, shaking the dishes that hadn’t yet been cleared.
“No! We’re not going through this again.” Mom shook her head as she glared at Mallory.
“Mom, I’m an adult. And I’ve made my decision.”
Her mother put her empty wineglass on the table, then pointed a finger at her daughter. “I knew this was why you took a job working for that man. This has never been about utilizing your business degree.”
Mallory looked at her father. “Dad, please tell me you understand why I want to do this.”
Her father leaned back against his chair and sighed. “Of course I understand, Mallory. But it’s a dangerous procedure, and you’re our daughter. You need to understand how we feel too.”
“I get that, Dad. I really do. But I’m going ahead. I’ve signed up in a paired kidney exchange program.”
Mallory’s mother blinked her eyes a few times as she raised her chin. “This isn’t the only way to help. Do you have any idea how much money I have collected over the years through fund-raisers? Money specifically for the Kidney Foundation.”
“Mom.” Mallory sighed. “That’s wonderful. But this isn’t a problem that you can just throw money at. People have to make real sacrifices to save lives.”
“Did that Muslim put you up to this?” Her mother looked around for Rosa, then pointed at her glass again.
“That is beyond offensive.” Mallory glared at her. “I’m going to write that comment off to the wine.”
“They do all hate us, you know.” Vicky eased a piece of pie onto her fork. “We’re all infidels to them. They want us all dead.”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Mallory said to her sister. “Ismail is a doctor. He’s in the business of saving lives, not taking them.”
“That’s enough.” Dad lifted both his palms, and after he slowly lowered them, he said, “We can’t control what you do, honey.”
Not this time.
“But we want to make sure you’ve thought this through.” He laid his napkin on his plate.
Mallory blinked back tears. “I’ve had twelve years to think it through. And I made a promise to Kelsey.”
TATE SLID OFF THE PIANO BENCH AND WENT TO THE door. “Why don’t you use your key, babe?” he asked, stepping aside so Mallory could come in.
She leaned up and kissed him. “Because I don’t live here.”
“Then move in.” He smiled, knowing what she would say. He’d asked plenty of times.
Mallory sat down on the couch and leaned her head back, giving her blond waves a toss. She closed her eyes. “Your mother would have a fit.”
Tate made a quick scan of the room and found ET curled up in the corner behind the rocking chair. Twice the orange-and-white tabby had mistaken Mallory’s hair for a plaything when she’d draped it over the back of the couch.
“She’d get over it. You know she loves you.” Tate sat down beside her. “So how’d it go?”
Mallory inhaled a big gulp of air, blew it out slowly, and turned to face him. She pulled all her hair over her right shoulder and started braiding it. Tate knew she’d braid it to the end, undo it, and run her fingers through it. Then probably braid it again. It was something she did when she was nervous or upset.
“It went about how I figured it would. Mom went nuts, Vicky made a stupid comment, and Dad tried to keep the peace.”
Tate reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I know you don’t want me to do this either. But at least you understand, right?”
Tate kicked his shoeless feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, I understand. But you blame yourself too much. You were only seventeen. Your parents made the decision.”
She was quiet for a while, then sighed. “Maybe I didn’t fight hard enough. Maybe if I’d been more insistent, they would have agreed. And Kelsey would be alive right now.”
Tate shook his head. “No. Don’t do that to yourself. Your parents made a choice not to let their seventeen-year-old child have major surgery.”
“I guess. But I was the youngest one tested. Girls of childbearing age are never even considered as donors, but since we already knew I couldn’t have children, there was no worry about a high-risk pregnancy down the line. I was the perfect person to do it.”
Tate waited. He knew about Mallory’s condition, of course, and had assured her that it wasn’t going to bother him not to have children. If she wanted to adopt someday, fine, but he wasn’t sure he was father material anyway. He’d been around kids plenty when he’d taught music at the junior high, and most of his piano students now were children.
“Anyway, no one else was a match. And I had a young, healthy kidney that would have saved Kelsey’s life. When I couldn’t give that to her, I made a promise that I’d save another life since I couldn’t save hers.”
“I know. But it wasn’t a promise she asked you to make.”
Mallory leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.
“I want to make a difference.”
“You do make a difference, each and every day. Just by being you.”
She snuggled in closer. “Do you know how much I love you, Tater Tot?”
Tate grinned. “You know how I feel about that name.” It seemed unmanly not to put up a little resistance.
She looked up at him with her big, blue eyes and batted her lashes. “I think you secretly love it.”
Tate smiled. “Do ya now?”
ET padded across the living room floor, stopping to yawn before he continued on to a small bed in the corner. Tate yawned as well.
“Nap time? I’m guessing you and your mother went to Mass, then to IHOP. You ordered two pancakes and some fruit. And instead of syrup, you put honey on your pancakes.” She nodded toward the front window. “Then you came home and mowed the yard.” She glanced at her watch. “So, this would make it nap time.”
Tate frowned. “Wow. You make me sound so OCD.”
She giggled. “No. Just structured.”
Tate supposed that in comparison to Mallory, he probably was a little obsessive-compulsive. But it gave him comfort to stay organized and on a schedule. Mallory just winged it and lived spontaneously, on the edge.
“But that’s why we complement each other,” she added. “That whole opposites attract thing—maybe there’s something to it.”
“Maybe,” he said, half yawning again. He pulled her closer. “You gonna take a nap with me?” As tired as he was, sleep wasn’t his top priority.
“I’m not tired,” she said with a grin. “But you go ahead.”
What he really needed was a distraction. He glanced at his cell phone on the end table. He’d even kept it on vibrate during Mass so he wouldn’t miss a call. He wasn’t sure if no news was good news. Either way, he’d chosen not to say anything to Mallory yet. If he was offered the job in Chicago, it was really going to shake things up for the two of them.
“Why don’t you play something for me? Something pretty and soothing,” she said softly.
Tate eased his arm from around her and made his way across the small room to his first love: the baby grand that had been a gift from his uncle nearly thirteen years ago. The black finish shone as brightly today as it did back then. He slid onto the bench and lowered his fingers to the keys and played one of the many songs he’d written for Mallory.
Once again she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch.
Tate stopped abruptly when his cell phone started to ring.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” She slid to the end of the couch and peered down at the caller ID. “Chicago Academy for the Arts? Why would they be calling you?”
Tate swallowed hard but didn’t move. Was calling him on a Sunday afternoon going to be good news or bad?