Chapter Thirty-six

Valen rocked back and forth in the hospital glider with his sleeping granddaughter, Isobella, in his arms. The pain of this month’s earlier defeat seemed far away as he stared down at this tiny new branch of their family tree. She was a perfect reason to celebrate Thanksgiving. Ten fingers, ten toes, the sweetest pouty mouth, and though he had yet to see for himself, he’d been told that Isobella had inherited his light gray eyes.

For the second time this year, Valen Bellamy fell in love.

“You look like a natural, Dad,” Robbie said reentering the hospital room after escorting his wife, Stacey, on a prescribed walk around the floor.

“It’s been a long time,” Valen said, trying but failing to remember his own son being this new.

If Valen was to be honest, he’d sleepwalked through his son’s upbringing. Always too busy becoming and then being a success, he had let slip by so many important moments of Robbie’s life, which he either did not attend or barely noticed. Truth be told, he’d fathered a child but had never truly been a hands-on dad.

“It will all come back to you. I’ve already got you down on the babysitting rotation.”

“Robbie, you know Dad’s too busy for that,” Stacey said.

“No, Stacey. If it’s okay with you two, I plan on being a regular visitor in this lovely lady’s life. As fate has dictated, I’m going to have a little bit more time on my hands.”

And nobody to fill it with, he thought as Isobella began to whimper and squirm.

“Sounds like somebody’s hungry,” Stacey declared, which was Robbie’s cue to deliver his daughter to her mother’s breast.

Valen stood and beamed proudly as his son lovingly placed Isobella in Stacey’s hands and huddled around his girls. He was proud of his son and grateful to his ex-wife. She deserved the majority of the credit for raising such a strong, compassionate, and loving black man. But the sight of Robbie with his family also underlined the pain and loneliness he’d been experiencing since the night he’d lost the election.

With kisses all around, he bid his good-byes, promising to visit again soon, and headed down the hall. Passing the nursery window, Valen stopped a moment to gaze upon the new souls that had recently graced the world. His mind immediately went to Pia. She should have given birth to her own little bundle by now. He scanned the tiny faces lined up in their bassinets, looking for one that somehow resembled Pia. He knew it was a silly act of desperation, but in an odd way it made him feel closer to her.

Why are you torturing yourself like this?

Pia and her baby’s father were probably at this very moment making plans for a future together. Or maybe the guy had dishonorably ditched her and his paternal responsibilities. Valen had no idea, because he had been too quick and too pigheaded to allow Pia to explain the details of her situation. He’d made a huge mistake by simply letting her go with no further discussion. He’d been so worried about his public image, he’d given up on the one woman who had given him a taste of true love. So perhaps it would be best for all if he just gave up and moved on with the remnants of his life.

Valen pushed the confusion to the back of his mind and left the hospital, headed back to his apartment. It was time to regroup, get back to business, and face the fact that his professional life may very well be all he had left.

With the Monday Night Football game playing in the background, he sat on the couch, sifting through hundreds of unread postelection e-mails still taking up memory in his Treo. Some could be answered by his staff, but others—like those from the governor and head of the RNC—needed his attention. Valen worked diligently answering and/or eliminating at least eighty e-mails before reaching the one that caused a sharp intake of breath.

I love you too.

The roar of the crowd filled the room as the New York Giants scored their second touchdown of the game. The timing was exquisite, and Valen burst out laughing. Pia Jamison loved him. That was definitely something to cheer about.

Ed had been damn near clairvoyant. If he wanted Pia, now was the time to move on it. The election was over and he could clearly see opportunity in his loss. His life was his own again. There was no constituency to kowtow to, no press following his every move. He had four years to get his private life in order before he ran again. Four years to love Pia back. Four years before the public scrutiny started up again. But by then, they’d be a solid family.

A family of three. Do you really want to dive headfirst back into fatherhood?

Truthfully? No. But a few more years of child rearing was a small price to pay for a lifetime of contentment. And maybe through Pia and her child, he’d actually learn to enjoy his life, not just work his way through it. Valen once again tossed aside his Treo. Work could wait until after the holidays. Right now he had other, more pressing and definitely more lovely things to concentrate on.

Twenty minutes into their walk, the snow began to fall. Pia felt the icy flakes hit her face, a chilly reminder that winter as well as the holiday season had officially arrived.

“I’m coming back to work next week,” she informed Darlene.

“I thought you were waiting until after the New Year.”

“I was, but it’s time to get myself together and start being productive again. I’m going crazy just lying around mourning my baby.”

“Losing a child is not something you get over easily, chica. You can’t brush it aside and pretend it didn’t happen. You have to take all the time you need to heal.”

“I know. I’m not brushing it aside, but I need other things to think about. Plus, working will help keep my mind off the holidays. I’m not really feeling the Christmas spirit.”

“I’m feeling right Grinchy myself,” Dee said. “I miss Hector. He called from Iraq this morning and sounded so lonely. It’s always so much tougher to be apart during the holidays. That’s why I didn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving.”

“Mom and I are glad you’re spending it with us, even though we’re kind of pathetic—like a lonely chicks club or something.”

“I know there are probably a hundred things I should be grateful, for, but somehow being around all my family just makes me feel worse. You know, like I have to be strong and happy even though I feel like shit.”

“I hear you. I know that I have plenty to be thankful for, but right now all I feel is that it’s been a year full of pain and drama with nothing to show for it.”

“I can’t believe Valen never answered the e-mail.” Dee blurted out the words she’d been wanting to say for weeks. “Chica, I’m sorry I interfered. I was just trying to help. I really thought it would turn out differently.”

“Yeah, well, somewhere deep inside I thought so too, but I guess Valen had other ideas. We’d better get back and finish dinner. Besides, I’m freezing.”

“Me too. I wish Hector were here to warm me up,” Dee said, putting her arm through Pia’s as they walked through the accumulating snow.

“I know. But maybe hot chocolate will suffice.”

“Maybe hot chocolate with a little Frangelico tossed in,” Dee insisted.

“Now you’re talking.”

By four o’clock the lonely chicks club was sitting around Pia’s dining room table, feasting on Maizelle’s traditional meal of turkey, cornbread stuffing, corn pudding, string beans, and homemade rolls. Following dinner were all of Pia’s favorite desserts, homemade apple pie a la mode, red velvet cake, and fresh fruit. With no thought to diet or dress size, the women dug in and thoroughly indulged. Between bites, the discussion consisted of every possible topic except the two taboos—men and babies.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Pia announced, raising her glass. After several glasses of wine, Pia found she was actually enjoying herself. “It occurs to me that I do have something to be thankful for—the two of you. Thank you for your love and support and for helping me get through this really hard time. Dee, for holding down the fort and being my friend. And Mom, for accepting me as I am and loving me in spite of myself. And I am very grateful for your slammin’ red velvet cake. Thank you,” she said, blowing kisses across the table.

“And I want to thank God that Hector is alive and halfway through his tour. And for you, chica, for being such a great boss and friend and for having such an amazing mami who can cook like this.”

“I guess it’s my turn,” Mai said. “I want to thank Dee for all the love and kindness you have shown my daughter. She’s never had a sister, and you are the closest thing she has. And Pia, I am so grateful to have such a strong and wonderful daughter. You are my light. I love you. God has blessed all of us.”

The women touched glasses in a grateful toast, genuinely happy to be sharing this moment together. Through good food, good drink, and good friends, the irritations and disappointments that lately had clouded their daily existences were momentarily forgotten.

The ringing phone cut short their merriment. Strangely, when Pia picked up, there was nobody on the other line. “Must have been a wrong number,” she said, returning to the table.

“Pia, Pastor Saxton has been asking after you. I thought maybe we should invite him over for dinner during the holidays,” Maizelle said as they all cleared the table.

“So much for never meddling in my life again,” Pia said. Amused by Maizelle’s never-say-die attitude, she burst into laughter, followed first by Darlene and then her mother as they finished cleaning the kitchen. Their laughter was interrupted by the buzz from downstairs.

“Mom, you didn’t ask Pastor Saxton over here, did you?” Pia asked on her way to answer the intercom.

“No, dear, not yet.”

“Who?” Pia asked into the receiver. “Okay, tell him to wait five minutes and then send him up. Thanks, Paolo.”

Pia took a moment to listen to and enjoy the song her heart was singing. And just as quickly, the music stopped. Valen had come to her, but was it by his own volition?

“Okay, which one of you is responsible for this? ’Fess up now, you traitors.”

“Chica, what are you talking about?”

“Valen Bellamy is down in the lobby. Now which one of you invited him here?”

“Not me,” Dee said, looking at Maizelle.

“Not me,” Maizelle said, looking at Pia.

“Well, don’t look at me. What does he want?”

“I don’t know, but you might want to brush your teeth and spruce up that coif before you find out,” Dee suggested.

“And put on something decent,” her mother added.

Pia shook her finger at both of them and mouthed “Beeyotch” to Dee behind her mother’s back before scurrying into the back to freshen up. As soon as she left the room, Dee and Maizelle, both with huge smiles on their faces, grabbed their coats and handbags and quickly departed.

“Did you?” Dee asked again in the hallway.

“Really, I didn’t,” Mai replied before the two exchanged high fives and stepped onto the elevator.

Pia walked back into the living room with freshly brushed teeth and hair, looking casually chic in a cream-colored velour hoodie and pants. She was nervous and quickly found another thing to be grateful for this Thanksgiving day—wine. She poured half a glass and gulped it down. Only then did she realize that the house was quiet.

“Mom? Dee?” Receiving no reply, Pia added one more item to her gratitude list.

Valen’s knock was soft and tentative. Knowing that he was on the other side of the door caused Pia to freeze with temporary paralysis. Why was he here? To give her his heart or break what was left of hers into a gazillion minuscule bits?

“Only one way to find out,” she said to the face in the mirror as she checked her makeup and steeled herself for whatever was coming.

He knocked again, this time louder and with more determination. Pia opened the door and took in a greedy eyeful. Valen looked good but tired, and his shy smile let her know that he was feeling as tentative as she was. She wanted to give him a big hug and tell him how sorry she was about the election results, but she simply stood leaning on the door, contemplating Valen and the small gift bag and a burgundy bunch of mini calla lilies in his hands.

Valen scanned Pia as well. She was more voluptuous than when he’d seen her last, and it was clear from her body shape that she’d given birth. Her face also bore the revealing signs of sleep deprivation. Still, Pia looked lovely, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to leap across the threshold and kiss those soft, full lips he’d spent the past months missing so much.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said, swallowing his desire. “Uh, these are for you,” he said, handing her the calla lilies, their stems tied with a burgundy satin ribbon.

“Thank you.” Pia accepted the bouquet, and with her ivory clothing, Valen couldn’t help thinking she looked like a bride. The look became her.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too. Come in,” Pia said, finally moving aside so he could enter. Valen placed the gift bag on the table as she helped him off with his GQ-worthy shearling coat and hung it in the closet.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” Pia asked, further delaying the reason for his appearance.

Valen refused her offer. He wanted to stay clear-headed for the conversation to come. There was too much at stake tonight to blow it with alcohol-induced misunderstanding. Pia invited him to make himself comfortable while she put the flowers in water. The apartment smelled like holiday love—a mishmash of favorite foods layering the air with aromatic scents. It was also very quiet. The baby must be asleep, he concluded. Valen sat on the couch and quickly scanned the room. Isobella had only been home a few days and Robbie and Stacey’s entire apartment looked like a ransacked Babies R Us store. Surprisingly, other than a blanket and tiny ceramic shoe, he saw no signs of an infant. Valen concluded that Pia, chic mother that she was, kept all the baby gear in the back.

“Sorry for arriving unannounced, but I thought the element of surprise might work better to my advantage,” he explained.

“And surprise was necessary because…?”

“Because it’s been a long time and I didn’t want to risk your refusing to see me. But with the baby I figured you’d probably be staying put.”

Valen noticed the change in her eyes and chalked it up to residual anger over their last conversation, more pointedly his disapproval over her pregnancy.

“Was that you who called earlier and then hung up?” Pia asked, adding things up.

“Uh, yes. I was just checking that you were home.”

Pia turned her head slightly and smiled. She was secretly pleased she’d driven him to such high school antics.

“Valen,” she said, returning and putting the vase on the coffee table, “I’m really sorry about the election. I know how hard you campaigned, and you deserved to win. I even voted for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot, more than I can tell you.”

“I hope you were sincere about what you said in your concession speech about running again. This country needs you—even if you are a damn Republican,” she added with a teasing smile.

“I was and I will. But first I need to take these next few years to get some personal things in order,” he said, getting closer to what he came to discuss.

“So you were just in the neighborhood?” she asked, waiting for him to mention her mother-sent e-mail. She’d already decided to take ownership for sending it if he did.

Though he’d gone over this conversation a hundred times in his mind, sitting here with Pia in kissing distance, Valen didn’t have a clue where to begin. So he just said the first thing on his mind.

“I’d love to meet your baby.”

Valen watched as Pia’s body crumpled before releasing a tidal wave of tears. Instinctively, he reached out and drew his sobbing woman to his chest. “Shh,” he said in a soothing voice as he stroked her hair. “Whatever it is we’ll make it better, I promise.” He was totally perplexed by Pia’s reaction, but at this very moment comforting the woman he loved was more important than understanding the reason for her tears.

Pia fell willingly into his arms, not realizing until now how much she needed him to help her heal. She allowed herself to release the storm of pent-up emotion she’d been holding in since delivering her stillborn son. In the safety of Valen’s embrace she purged the sorrow and guilt over the losses of Pom, Valen, and her father, and for all the years she’d spent repressing her emotions. Eventually her sobs became whimpers before dissolving into the hiccups.

“There is no baby, Valen. I had a little boy, but he died.”

No words seemed adequate, so Valen simply hugged Pia tight, shielding her body with his, wanting desperately to protect her from any further hurt.

She told him everything that had been on her heavy heart since the morning he’d walked out on her. Pia started at the very beginning from her years of no sex then moved on to her gynecological issues to taking the WMS class to breaking her celibacy with Grand Nelson and their agreement.

“He doesn’t know about his son?” Valen interrupted to ask.

“No. It was part of the agreement. There was to be no contact until the baby’s first birthday.”

Pia disentangled herself and went into the bedroom to get a Kleenex. When she returned she held two boxes—one full of tissues, the other full of heartbreaking memories.

“I’ve never shown this to anyone. Not even my mother,” she said. Pia took a deep breath and opened the handcrafted, wooden treasure box, actually a humidor that once belonged to her father. One by one, Pia pulled from it the proof that her baby had existed—a lock of Pom’s hair, his footprints, and her hospital bracelet.

Valen listened with a chest full of compassion as Pia told him of the tragic turn her life had taken in the months since they’d been apart. He cursed himself for not being around to help her through this misery.

“It was very quiet in the delivery room. Eerily quiet. No cry of life. No excited announcements. They cleaned him up—thankfully he hadn’t begun to…well, you know—and wrapped him in a receiving blanket. He was wearing a tiny blue hat, just like all the other babies. If you didn’t know he was stillborn you might have thought he was just sleeping,” Pia told him, recounting the moment they placed her tiny angel in her arms so she could say good-bye. “Except for that one brief moment in time, I never got to hold him again.”

The muted sounds of their pain commingled and drifted skyward. Pia had not spoken of this to anyone, and it seemed fitting to express her deepest hurts to the man she loved and thought of as her best friend. She was so grateful that he’d finally come.

Valen wept, remembering how just days ago he was rocking his precious, hungry granddaughter to sleep. He could not imagine the horror of holding her still and lifeless little body. The mere thought made him shudder.

He allowed Pia to cry for as long as she needed, vowing that pain like this would never touch this beautiful woman again. He was moved that she’d shared all of this with him as it brought them closer and made Valen only love her more.

“Pia, you asked me why I came today,” he said once her sobs had subsided. Valen gently lifted her face by the chin so he could look into her tearful eyes. “I just got your e-mail.”

“But I sent it weeks ago.”

“It came the day of the election, and truthfully, I was so worn out and depressed that I shut off my Treo and didn’t pick it up again until a couple of days ago. But when I saw your message it made everything, including losing the election, bearable. I realized that as long as you loved me, nothing was that bad and anything was possible. I hope you’ll realize the same thing.”

Valen brought his lips down to meet Pia’s in a life-changing, love-affirming kiss.

Pia settled into his kiss, relishing the words she’d always thought she wanted to hear but had been running from nearly all her adult life.

“I love you too,” Pia told him, running no longer.

“When did you know?” Valen asked, his smile as wide as the sky.

“I think it happened when we were dancing at the Empire State Building,” she said between sniffles.

“I think it was sooner than that,” he teased.

“Oh, really? And just when do you think I fell for you?”

“When I told you that I was no longer interested and yet you continued to pursue me. Showering me with gifts and then wearing that incredible dress to the Met just to tempt me. Those moves had ‘I love you’ written all over them,” Valen joked.

“Uh, you do realize that I was just trying to save my job at that point?”

“Yeah, any excuse. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“One more time.”

“I love you, Valen Bellamy,” Pia repeated, enjoying the way the sweet words warmed her like hot fudge on a warm brownie.

“Then marry me,” he said. “With you, my life makes sense. I make sense, and now there’s nothing to stop us from being together,” Valen said. He hadn’t come over intending to propose tonight. He’d planned on waiting until Christmas, but now just seemed like the right moment.

Pia sat and stared into Valen’s eyes before standing and walking over to the window. She ignored his question and instead watched the snow continue to fall, noticing how bright the night appeared with the glow from streetlights reflecting off the snow. Usually she loved the hushed quality of snowfall, but this evening she could find no peace in the stillness.

There is nothing to stop us from being together. Valen’s words pierced her joy, causing it to evaporate into the night.

Why was nothing easy? She’d finally allowed herself to fall in love and to revel in her feelings, and yet even through the euphoria of love she still had to contend with crushing disappointment.

Valen crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Pia, enjoying the warmth of her body pressed against his. Her silence seemed appropriate. She’d been through a lot, and he was sure his sudden proposal had created the need for reflection.

“I do love you, Pia.”

She totally believed that Valen loved her. Just as she was positive that she loved him in return. Love was not the issue. The problem was that Valen wanted to marry her only now that there was no child. And that was unacceptable. If he didn’t want her with the baby, he didn’t deserve her now.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked, turning her around to face him.

“Does it matter? The bottom line is I’m saying no,” Pia said, her hurt slowly morphing into an armor of indifference.

“You don’t want to think about it?”

“There is nothing to think about,” Pia said, avoiding his probing eyes. She was back to protecting herself from this disastrous thing called love. “What I need is for you to go.”

Valen’s thoughts sped through his head like a bullet. He didn’t understand. Just moments ago they’d both professed their love for each other, and now she was throwing him out? At what point had things gone so terribly wrong? Did she not believe in marriage? Was there something else she was keeping from him?

She just lost her baby. Of course it’s too soon to think about marriage. That was the rationale that made the most sense to him. After years of wanting to have a child and the physical and social hurdles Pia had to get over to conceive, only to lose her child so close to delivery, she was in no frame of mind to decide on the rest of her life. What was he thinking? It was thoughtless and selfish for him to have put his desire to be with her above the emotional crisis she was currently dealing with. He should have been more compassionate. He should have followed his original plan and waited.

“Pia, talk to me,” he pleaded.

After such an emotional, gut-wrenching outburst, she had nothing left. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to be left alone so she could begin to get over this latest ironic chapter of her pathetic love story.

“There’s nothing left to say…except good-bye,” she said, turning back to watch the snow.

Valen paused for another few moments before giving up. He kissed the back of her head, noticed the tense rise in her shoulders, and strutted across the room to retrieve his coat. He was down but not defeated. Valen refused to repeat his earlier mistake and give up without explanation, but enough had been shared today.

“Pia…”

Her silence drove him to open the door and make his exit. It wasn’t until he’d reached the lobby that he remembered the gift he’d brought. He wasn’t sure if he should leave it and risk upsetting her all over again, or go back and retrieve it, guaranteeing he’d upset her again.

Leave it, he decided. There’d been enough drama for one day.