Chapter 152

“Okay, Daddy.  I love you, too.  Call me if there’s anything we can do.”  Allegra set her phone on Dot’s kitchen table with a sigh.  He had finally convinced her mother to seek treatment after the Fourth of July, but Therese wasn’t happy about it.  The inpatient facility in Newark would benefit her in the long run, but right now she was not happy to be there, nor was she bashful about sharing that information.

“How’s your mom?”  Dot inquired gently.

“Angry, hurting, sick.  I know it’s hard on her and that it will get better, but right now I’m worried more about Daddy.  He sounds so tired and dejected.” 

She had made her peace with her father while she was in London and they had re-cemented their relationship in the last few days.  He was happy about her engagement, and told her that any man who defended and protected her like Richie did, had his approval.

Michael had even confessed that he never thought he would get to be a grandfather and was so looking forward to it that he bought the baby a tiny Philadelphia Seventy-Sixers t-shirt.  She could only hope that her mother would join in his enthusiasm once she was well.

“You never did tell me,” Dot diverted the subject to a more pleasant topic.  “Have you decided on any names for the baby?”

“Dottie!”  Jon strode into the kitchen, snatching up an oven mitt.  “You were supposed to remind me to watch the time!  The sorry fucker will never let me live it down if I burn his cake two years in a row!”

“There’s no smoke.  I figured you were good.”

Jon’s baking frenzy was in honor of Richie’s birthday celebration that night.  It was taking place three days earlier than his actual birthday, before their next stint on the road.  It wasn’t going to be anything fancy, but the guys and their families were coming for dinner, as well as Joan and Ava. 

Allegra had been informed that birthdays for the guys were pretty simple affairs.  Besides the fading enthusiasm for birthdays brought on by aging, the novelty buying each other extravagant birthday gifts had worn off many years ago.  As an alternative, they had resorted to more personal gestures.   Low cost or no cost gifts that required a little thought and effort instead of money.

Richie had delighted in telling Allegra that he loved the fact that Jon – who couldn’t cook worth anything – took the time and effort to bake him a cake nearly every year.  And that last year, Tico had gifted him with a small sculpture he’d crafted that held a coveted spot in his living room. 

David had given him something that was typically wise-ass David.  It was a crude Disney t-shirt that said ‘I know I’m Goofy looking, but it gets worse...   I’m hung like Jiminy Cricket’ with the lyrics to “It’s a Small Word” on the back. 

Allegra was not sorry to have missed out on the argument that particular gift was likely to have incited.  Because, as Richie would declare to his dying breath, it was completely untrue.  For good reason.

She smiled, nervously anticipating his reaction to her own gift for him.  It was a something she’d thrown money at – his money – but she had plans to make it personal, too.

The pan clattered onto the cooling rack and Jon cursed under his breath.

“Burn yourself, baby?”

He sucked air through his teeth and shook his hand, beyond irritated.  “Of course I did.  Don’t I always?”

“Yeah.  You do.”  Dot turned back to Allegra.  “So… baby names?”

She snickered at Dot’s obvious lack of concern over what Jon would have her believe were third-degree burns.  “Faith for a girl and Caleb for a boy.”

“Nice.  I think I understand why Faith, but what about Caleb?”

“It was the closest male equivalent of Faith we could find.  It means heart.”

Dot nodded.  “Good choices then.  What about middle names?”

“We haven’t talked about it, and I haven’t even mentioned this to Richie, but I think I’m going to let Ava pick the middle name.”

“Impressive.  Way to make a mark as a cool stepmom.”

Jon snickered from the sink, where cold water was running over his life-threatening injury. 

“What, Betty Crocker?”  Allegra asked.  “You have something to say about that?”

“The girl had a dog named Lambchop.  Are you sure you want her naming your kid?”

Allegra rolled her eyes.  “She’s almost thirteen, Jon.  I’m pretty sure she knows what’s appropriate for a dog and what’s appropriate for a child.  And I was hoping it would make her feel connected to the baby.  Officially it will be her half-brother or sister, but I don’t want her to think in those terms.  It’s her little brother or sister.  No halves.”

“Speaking of brother or sister, what are you hoping for?  Boy or girl?”  Dot put on her glasses with a huff, grabbing the hand flapping before her and inspecting her husband’s burn.  “You don’t seriously want sympathy for this teeny-tiny pink spot on your hand?”

“Yes.”  His bottom lip came out pathetically.  “It hurts.”

She pushed the wounded appendage away.  “Oh, please.”  She removed her glasses, dropping them on the table and turned her attention back to Allegra.  Not to be deterred, Jon popped his hand back up in front of her face and refused to move it until she had kissed his boo-boo better.

Allegra ducked her head and stifled a laugh, admiring the way they loved one another.  The circus that was Jon’s professional life garnered him no special treatment at home.  To an outsider, they may seem to be indifferent to one another, but there was a very real connection lurking in the sparkle of their eyes, the touch of their hands – something genuine in the faux glitter of fame. 

She hoped to have a marriage this solid with Richie – one where he would always know how unconditional her love was.  If he slipped into a rough patch, she wanted him to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would be there to pick him up and dust him off.  Allegra may give him hell for letting it happen, but then she would slip her hand in his and love him for all she was worth.

“You didn’t burn the cake again, did you?”  Richie joined them, bending to kiss Allegra.  “Hey, beautiful.”

Emotions hovering close to the surface, she stood to greet him.  Clingy arms snaked around his neck and she pulled him, sniffling, into a fierce hug. “I love you.”

He chuckled, lifting her to dangle above the ground for an instant, his own embrace every bit as tight.  “I love you too, Sunshine.  Hormone attack?”

“I can say that I love you without it being pregnancy hormones.”  She tapped him lightly on the shoulder, frowning.  Why did men always want to blame a woman’s emotions on hormones?

“You can,” he agreed, assuming the seat she had vacated and pulling her into his lap.  “But that was kind of intense, so I thought there may be more to it.  I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

“Dot was just asking if I wanted a boy or a girl,” she deflected his intuitive insight, even as she appreciated his sensitivity.  “What’s your answer to that question?”

“Yes?” he replied cheekily.  “The alternative to a boy or girl is an asexual amoeba, so I’m really leaning toward the boy/girl thing.”

“I take it back,” she sighed, struggling to stand, but his wrists were locked around her waist, preventing her from escaping.  “I can’t possibly love someone with such a freakish sense of humor.  As a matter of fact, it kind of creeps me out how much that sounded like David.”

“Don’t worry,” Dot consoled, curling her arm around Jon’s waist.  “About the time it gets on your nerves, the next tour rolls around.  They immerse themselves in their combined pool of stupid humor until they don’t even amuse themselves anymore.  Then they come home and act normal for a while.  It works out.”

“And there’s your People exclusive on the longevity of a rock ‘n’ roll marriage,” Jon said with a roll of his eyes.

Allegra squirmed around in Richie’s lap, suddenly impatient to give him his birthday gift.  “Jon?  Is that package still in your office?”

He looked up from nibbling on his wife’s collarbone.  “The big one?  Yeah, right where you left it.”

“Lemme up,” she whispered to Richie.  “I’ve got something for you.”

She scurried to Jon’s office to get the tall, narrow box that had arrived at Jon’s house a few days ago with her name on it.  What had come dressed in plain brown wrapping was now festively adorned with sparkly purple paper and silver ribbons. 

“Oh-ho-ho!  What do we have here, missy?” Richie scolded when she returned to the kitchen with the gift in tow.  “I told you the rule about birthdays.  Cheap and personal doesn’t come in a package that size.”

For all his chastisement, he couldn’t disguise the glee that lit up his eyes like a child at Christmas. 

“Hey, it’s my first birthday with you.  I’m pleading ignorance.  Besides, you paid for it.”

“What do you mean I paid for it?”

Allegra shrugged, knowing she was about to open a can of worms.  “I had to do something with all that money you put in my checking account.  So you bought yourself a little something.”

His hand locked around her wrist when she placed the box before him.  “I should turn you over my knee, you know.  That money was for you.”

“Jesus Christ, you know how she is.” Jon rudely interrupted.  “Why are you surprised?  Just open the damn thing.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the attitude that makes a birthday gift special.  ‘Open the damn thing’.  You’re a sentimental fool, aren’t you Jon?”  Allegra scowled at him, nose wrinkled in disgust.  “Honey,” she addressed Richie with a soft smile. “I was out of my element here, so I had a little help.  I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever it is.”  Richie puckered his lips, waiting for her kiss before tearing into the shiny trappings before him.

Allegra held her breath as he peeled the paper away to uncover a brown cardboard box.  He had to know what lie inside, but his face gave away nothing as he lifted the box to the table and worked the lid off.  Peeling back the bubble wrap and foam, he drew in an awed breath and slipped his hand under the sleek neck.

The guitar looked very similar to the one he’d been using for a while - his Sambora signature model.  Shiny black body, rounded like a teardrop with a delicate curve cut out at the base.  But whereas his familiar old lady had white inlay swirled across the face, this new baby had pewter etched with fanciful, intertwined leaves.  It was elegant, yet masculine.

He was busy running his fingertips over the artwork, absently strumming the strings and smiling when she was in perfect tune.

“Takumi helped me,” she explained a little nervously, searching his face for some sign of reaction.  “He wasn’t sure about what kind of different guitar you’d like, but mentioned you were a little bored with your regular show opener.  So, I decided to get her a facelift.”

Reverent hands stroked over the body as he pulled it into his lap, where it settled like it had never been any place else.  The fingers she loved so much danced nimbly over the strings and frets, acquainting themselves with the newest member of his harem, working through chords and song bits until Allegra couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So, do you like your new baby?” she finally prompted when he still hadn’t said anything.  On the verge of babbling, she added, “That’s kind of what I’ve been calling it in my mind.  Baby.  I have no idea why, but it seemed like she needed a name.”

Jon and Dorothea watched quietly, side by side with their arms around one another’s waists, also awaiting his reaction.  Jon had told her flat out that he would never try and get Richie a guitar.  He had so many, and the tiniest variations in the instruments made a world of difference to him.  Things that other people – even other musicians – wouldn’t notice, Richie noticed.

He looked up from where he was putting Baby through her paces, catching Allegra’s eye.  Then his face split into one of the widest grins she’d ever seen, and it warmed her like the sun breaking through the clouds.  She breathed a sigh of relief. 

Standing, he carefully nested Baby back into her packing before pulling Allegra into his arms.  “Baby is perfect – both the name and the guitar.  Thank you.”

“So you really like it?”

He angled so that his back was to Jon and Dot, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.  “I can’t wait to show you just how much.”