The Chef's Passion Page 14

  “Hi, Gina,” she says with a fake smile.

  I try to muster my own phony smile, but I can’t. All that’s going through my mind is the name Lacy Howard. “The next time you take it upon on yourself to leave a press release in the name of Sauce, run it by me first. Understand?”

  She straightens her posture as though I just slapped her in the face. “I was just helping out where I was asked.”

  “You were just blatantly bitch slapping me by leaving out any mention of me as one of the partners in this here restaurant.”

  She snarls sarcastically. “Well… you don’t have much experience.”

  “But she’s talented,” Randy says. “I handled it, Gina. I also assure you that nothing like that will ever happen again.” His eyes widen with sincerity. “I promise.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. What does it mean when he looks at me that way?

  Deanna grunts and rolls her eyes. “We’ll table this discussion for another day. Randy, you’re needed in the kitchen.”

  Randy cracks a tiny smile. “See you later?”

  I nod. He nods and then lets Deanna walk him to the kitchen.

  Carrie grunts. “Goodness, I can’t stand her.”

  I paste my fake smile back on. “Well, tonight is about having fun, so that’s your job requirement.”

  She presses her lips together in a slight grimace. “I’m going to handle the drinks.” She walks away, still unsmiling.

  Hayden and I are hungry, so I go from one chafing dish to the next, tasting the food. One by one, two by two, and in groups guests start to arrive. I hug friends I haven’t seen in months. Presents are left for me on a big table. I keep my eyes on the door, waiting for the one person I’ve been needing to impress.

  Finally, Naomi arrives. Thank God. My ankles are on fire, and I’m nearly tired of smiling and avoiding watching Deanna attach herself to Randy. I do hug Naomi and let her know how happy I am to see her. She gives me a birthday present and a bottle of sparkling cider since she and I have been drinking that whenever she’s over at my house. I call Carrie over to take them. Then I lead Nom to my cheese soufflé and give her one.

  She bites into it and chews. It looks as if she’s savoring the butter and herb flavors.

  “Oh my God.” She opens her eyes and points at the plate. “You made this?”

  I grin, satisfied. “So I can cook, can’t I?”

  Naomi continues eating. “Yes. You surely can.”

  We talk a little while about our plans for the menu and what dishes will be my specialty. Soon, she has to leave to catch an airplane to meet Derek in Aspen. Once she’s gone, I ask Carrie to take me home. I’ve hit my limit for the night. I don’t say good-bye to Randy because the crowd is extremely large and full of faces I don’t even recognize, which must be Deanna’s doing.

  Carrie promises to drop my presents off tomorrow, so as soon as I get home, I strip off my clothes and go directly to bed.

  My chiming cell phone, along with a deep sharpness in my stomach, wakes me up. There’s a lot I have to do in this moment—pee, throw up, and answer my phone. I quickly choose number three, hoping it’s Randy.

  I hurry up and scoot to the edge of my bed and reach for my phone.

  “Hello,” I say before the chiming ends.

  “Hi, honey?”

  “Hi, Dad.” I’m excited to hear from him, but now I have to pee. I start for the bathroom.

  “Go look in your driveway.”

  “Huh?”

  “Go ahead. Look.”

  I sigh and put off releasing my bladder for a minute or two. The only problem is the cramping in my stomach is getting worse. But I make it to my front window and open the curtain. A shiny burgundy SUV with a bow on top sits in my driveway, and my gasp is twofold.

  “You see it?” My dad asks cheerily.

  “Ah!” I grab my stomach and drop to my knees.

  I feel wet, so I look down. Blood and clear fluid have fallen out of me. I scream louder. The pain is so bad that I grab the windowsill.

  “Gina, honey, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I’m…”

  I can hear my dad yell for my mother to call 9-1-1 and send them to my place. “Just call!”

  I can hear her shout, “What’s going on?”

  The pain is too much to bear. I drop my phone and pant. The blood continues to flow. I drop myself to the front door, unlock it, and curl up on my side, clenching my stomach, waiting for help to arrive.

  22

  Sharp pains that no one should ever have to experience are coursing through my stomach and nether regions. It’s as if someone is slashing me with a knife from the inside. The front door opens, and my parents enter in a matter of minutes.

  My mom gasps when she sees me on the floor. She steps in my fluids and blood to hold me. “Tell them we’ll take her to the hospital, Walt.”

  “Honey, the ambulance is close.” My heavy eyes gaze up to see my dad standing in the doorway, still on the phone.

  Each time the agony rips through me, I scream.

  “I want to push,” I squeal.

  “No!” Mom says. “Breathe with me, sweetheart.”

  I nod and try to follow my mom through a course of breathing exercises. The harder I blow, the less effective the drill feels. I’m dizzy and weak. My body is succumbing to the pain and stress. I have no more fight left in me.

  Sirens blare. Their loudness makes me keep breathing through the pain. I find solace in my mother’s arms until two guys guide me onto a stretcher. It all goes so fast from here. I’m in the back of the ambulance. The pain. The guy tells me to hold on. My mother guides me through breathing. We make it to the hospital. I’m soaring down the hallway under the fluorescent lights. I hear Dr. Reinhart’s soft and controlled voice. I hear a lot of talking. One word I can make out is “anesthesiologist.”

  Soon after, my mom says, “I love you, sweetheart.” I can hear her clearly because the pain has stopped. “I’ll see you when you get out.”

  Then I fade.

  Dr. Reinhart has just explained that Hayden died. My eyes scan this quiet, small room. My mom is at my bedside, holding my hand. I’ve requested that no one is let in to see me—especially Randy. My heart aches. There’s only one question stuck in my mind, and I’ve already asked Dr. Reinhardt more than once.

  “When can I see Hayden?”

  Dr. Reinhart looks from my mom to me. “It’s not standard practice to…”

  “Fuck standard practice. I’ve carried Hayden for seven months. I want to see him. I owe him that, and you owe it to me.”

  Dr. Rinehart sighs softly. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, your blood pressure is high, and you’re going to need time to rest and heal. And I also want to say that there’s nothing you could’ve done differently. You have a genetic disorder that makes your uterus weak.” My mom’s firm hand massages my shoulder. I place my hand on top of hers to soothe her. Unfortunately, she’s all too familiar with what the doctor is speaking about.

  Dr. Reinhart goes on to advise me about getting pregnant in the future. If I ever decide to, she and I will try some new strategies early on that may work. I don’t say anything. I’m not one of those baby-crazy people. Hayden was special. He came on his own free will. He was supposed to have a place in this world, in my life. My heart hurts so much that it wants to shatter into a million pieces.

  “Please,” I whimper. “Let me see him.” Tears are rolling, and I’m wailing, begging to see him.

  “Gina, I understand what you want. It’s against hospital policy to bring—Hayden to your room, and you’ve just had surgery.”

  I touch her arm. “Please. Take me to him.”

  She looks me in the eyes. “Okay,” she finally says. “I’ll have the nurses prepare to take you to see him.”

  A few hours later, two nurses come into my room. They have me put on a mask, gloves, and special robe before wheeli
ng me to a room. They cleaned him up and swaddled him in a blanket.

  My heart swells as they push me closer to the white bed he’s lying on. I whimper like a cold puppy stuck out in the rain. He’s so tiny, and parts of him are barely formed. It looks as if my body was working against him the whole time.

  “Can we have some privacy?” I ask one of the nurses.

  They look at each other before honoring my request. “We’ll be just outside. Call us when you’re ready.”

  Once they’re gone, I’m able to really say good-bye to him. I picture how his life would’ve been. One can never really know how it all will go, but I would’ve tried my hardest to be a great mother and guide. I picture my dad teaching him how to build a sleigh and bait a hook. My mom would make cakes with him and teach him how to make food taste good as she did with me. I would teach him how to tie his shoe, brush his teeth, and say please and thank you. I’d prepare him for a world filled with people. I would talk him through dealing with mean ones and teach him how to be thankful for the nice ones.

  I roll my chair closer to the bed. I’m still numb in the stomach, so it doesn’t hurt so much when I reach out to pick him up. He’s so light in my arms. I hold him. The nurses check on us constantly, but they don’t make me leave until I’m ready. Hours later, I’ve said my good-bye and told him I love him. I return to my room and stare out the window. Now I understand why Mom used to sit on the porch for hours after having miscarriages. I’m still so very brokenhearted, and I don’t want to see or speak to another soul.

  It has been six nights since I left the hospital. My body feels a lot better. I have no more nausea, cramping, and body aches. I used to feel so heavy whenever I walked from point A to point B, C, D, and F, but no more.

  However, I’ve been stuck in my house, confused about what to do next. Randy has been handling the restaurant like a pro. When I was in the hospital, Randy requested to see me a number of times, but outside of my parents, I wasn’t taking visitors. My dad said that he also requested to see Hayden. I was happy that he got to say good-bye to our son.

  Carrie has left me dozens of voice mails. One of the many things I love about Carrie is that she doesn’t dwell on anything for too long. Only once did she say, “Sorry for your loss.” The rest of her messages are about work. The restaurant has opened, and on the first night, the place was packed because of our marketing efforts. The second night, it sort of dwindled, but we had already received twenty-three five-star Yelp reviews.

  If only I could get excited about that. It’s as if I’ve been trapped in a dark cloud. I have all of this guilt about moving on. Now I see why my mom tried so hard to get pregnant again every time she lost a child.

  My doorbell rings, and I look at the door.

  “Gina, it’s me!” Naomi says.

  I hop to my feet. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to move this fast. I hurry over to let her in.

  As soon as we see each other, we hug. It’s a tight embrace that says more than words can convey. She comes in, and we sit on my sofa.

  “So, I’ve spoken to Randy. He’s worried about you.”

  I sigh. “I know. It’s just…”

  Naomi looks at me as if she’s waiting for me to finish expressing my thoughts.

  “It’s just, why should he care about me? I’ve lost our son. That’s what was holding us together in the first place.”

  Naomi furrows her brow. “Is that what you think?”

  Suddenly, I notice the big diamond on her finger. I point to it. “What’s that?”

  “Oh…” she says nonchalantly. “Derek asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

  “Wow!” Finally, I have something to really be happy about. “You’re marrying the sexy professor?”

  She chuckles bashfully. “You have to stop calling him that.”

  I laugh. “I will as soon as he develops a gut, a third eye, and a wart on the middle of his forehead. Score a big one for you, Nom.”

  “Yeah.” She’s still grinning, red faced. “He’s more than I could ever ask for in a guy.” She claps her hands. “But back to you. What are you going to do—sit in here and waste away? That’s not like you at all, Gina.”

  I curl up on the sofa and grab my knees. It’s as if my body is digging in, showing Naomi that I’m refusing to move forward.

  “It’s just, I feel so…”

  “Guilty?”

  I skip a breath. “Yes.”

  Naomi takes one of my hands and squeezes it. “Love, loss, happiness, sadness—all of that is part of life. If the bad happens, the only way to keep good from following is to do exactly what you’re doing right now.”

  I think long and hard as what she says makes its way through my reasoning.

  She jumps to her feet. “Get dressed.”

  “Huh?”

  She extends an arm for me. “Come. Let’s get you dressed. I want you to see something.”

  I look away from her hand. “I don’t know.”

  “Gina. Dig deep inside yourself and find your spirit. Come on.” Naomi doesn’t move her hand.

  I take a few deep breaths. It’s definitely time to do something aside from drowning in my misery. So I take her hand.

  “Good girl,” she says.

  As soon as I make it to my feet, she rewards me with another big hug.

  I go to my room and put on a pair of sweat pants and a bulky sweater. Naomi says we’re leaving the house, and it’s eighteen degrees out tonight. I had no idea it was nighttime. My educated guess is that she’s taking me to a restaurant. As soon as I’ve put on my winter boots, my coat, and a cap, I walk out into the living room.

  I gasp. Randy gets up from where he’s sitting on the sofa.

  “Hi,” he says, waving tentatively.

  My heart is pounding like thunder. “Hi.”

  23

  Neither of us speaks as Randy drives. I’m so confused at the moment.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally say.

  He quickly glances at me and then back at the road. Snow flurries have begun to fall. “For what?”

  I look down and stare at my fingers on my lap. “I think if I’d stayed home the night of my birthday party, then…”

  “That’s not true, Gina. Dr. Reinhart told me there’s nothing that could’ve been done.”

  “Right,” I say, only half believing him.

  “It’s true, and I never took you for a quitter.”

  I stare at him with my head cocked. What does he mean by that? Does he want me to try and get pregnant again? I don’t think I want that right now.

  “We started this restaurant together. You want to be a chef, and hell, you have it in you to be great. Don’t let this set you back.”

  I sigh, relieved that he explained without my asking. “I know.”

  Again, the conversation falls silent, although Randy keeps shifting nervously in his seat.

  “So how’s it going with Deanna?” I say.

  He shrugs. “She’s fine, I guess.”

  I stare hopelessly out at the white snowflakes whisking in front of the headlights. “Good. Then you two are still going strong.”

  “What?”

  I face him, and he’s grimacing like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

  “Your relationship is going good,” I clarify.

  “What relationship?”

  “Haven’t you two been in a relationship?”

  “No. What made you think that?”

  I widen my eyes and shake my head. That’s a complex question he asked. I have a list of actions that made it look as if they were together, but I keep it simple. “It just looked like you were a couple.”

  “Well, no. I told you, I hired her to help us get our feet off the ground. She’s back in LA.”

  I rub my ear, frustrated. Is Randy that clueless? “Randy, I hate to break it to you, but she was clearly into you.”

  “And I was into you.”

  I straighten my posture. I did not expect him to say that.

/>   “Gina, I was always into you. You’re beautiful.” He grins. “And feisty as hell. When you told me you were pregnant, I was just confused. Hell, I didn’t want a kid. I wanted you, but I just thought we would take our time when it came to those things.”

  Wow. That was a mouthful. But I still have my doubts. He pulls into the parking lot of Sauce, and even on a cold night like this, every space is taken. However, Randy drives around to the back and parks in one of two reserved spots.

  “But remember how you left after I told you?”

  He turns off the engine. “I had to process. Then you told me that you never wanted to have anything to do with me. That hurt like hell. But I don’t know, things got better, didn’t they?”

  I nod, smiling. “They did.”

  We’re now smiling at each other.

  “So how do you feel about me?” he asks.

  I take a deep breath and press my lips together. My heart is swelling. “Kind of the same way you feel about me.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod.

  Randy leans across the seat and comes in for a kiss. My lips are warm after finally being pressed against his again. Our tongues twist, and he tugs my hair gently to expose my neck. Very indulgently, he nibbles on my flesh.

  “Fuck, I missed this,” he says with a passionate sigh. “Wait here.” After he blinks to steady himself, Randy gets out of the SUV, walks around the front of the vehicle, and opens my door.

  He helps me down, and once my feet are planted steadily on the cold ground, he wraps me in his arms, and we kiss again.

  “Um,” he says as our mouths pull apart. “Come on. You’ve got to see this.”

  Randy takes my hand and leads me to the back door. Once we’re inside, the ambiance moves over me. We walk into the kitchen, and the staff members stop what they’re doing and, one by one, clap for me. Even Randy turns to me and claps.

  I don’t know whether to smile or cry—I’m so happy—so I do both. Randy continues my tour into the dining room. The tables are set beautifully. The lighting is perfect—not too light but not too dark. Our patrons are having a good time and look to be enjoying the food.