“You said my mother had one great love. Did you know him?”
Instead of answering right away, her father ripped open a package of beef jerky he’d retrieved from a side drawer. He took a bite and slowly chewed, closing his eyes in apparent pleasure.
Was he purposely taking his time answering?
“I didn’t know him,” he finally announced.
She tried to curb her disappointment. Maybe it was better that she didn’t know this information.
“I didn’t know him, personally, that is. Your mom knew how I felt about her. I believe she didn’t discuss her relationship with me because of that.”
Tasha held her breath and waited for more information from Vincent.
“Most of what I know is secondhand. Through my sister, Karen. Like I mentioned, she and your mother were friends. I know he was a veteran. And that your mother had wanted him to marry her. But he refused.” Vincent shook his head. “Broke your mama’s heart.”
His dark eyes studied her, as if he was trying to decide something. “To be honest, I think him not wanting to marry her was a cop-out. If he really loved her, he should have moved heaven and earth to be with her.”
Tasha’s heart pinged at his words. What did it say about her that no man had ever wanted to move heaven and earth to be with her?
“Sometimes I hear these young nurses ’round here talking about wondering if a guy cares for them.” He shook his head woefully. “I say, ninety-nine percent of the time, if you got to ask that question, you got your answer.”
A bird flitting in the bushes outside the window temporarily caught his attention. “You know, that’s why I’m so proud of you, Tasha. You waited for love. And like the young people say, you made sure he put a ring on it. I see too many of these young gals settling for so much less than they’re worth. I’m gonna use you as an example when I talk to the nurses. You waited and were blessed with true love.”
An ache started at the pit of her stomach. She needed to change the subject fast, before both sorrow and guilt over her fake situation overtook her. “What kind of man was my mother’s love?”
“My sister said he was the life of the party. He was smart, funny and charming.”
On the television, the music for I Dream of Jeannie started. Vincent turned up the volume. “I love old television shows. Cheesy as they are.”
Tasha wondered if his abrupt change of the subject might mean that all her questions were hurting him. She decided to go along with the subject change. “I love old shows, too.”
“How would you know about these shows, young lady?”
“Reruns.”
They both hummed the theme song along with the television. At the end of the melody, they chuckled.
Conflicting emotions swirled within her. There was the sorrow at the loss of years she and her father could never get back. There was anger at him for not fighting to find her. And finally, there was anger at her mother for being too proud to take help from the man.
“Is something wrong?” Vincent asked.
Tasha shook free of her reverie. “I’m sorry. I need to get going.”
“But you just got here.” His eyes held a silent plea for her to stay.
Her emotions were raw and eggshell thin. “I’ll stay longer next time. Promise.” Still shy about affection toward him, she approached and gently squeezed his leathery brown hand. “Take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”
Vincent nodded in silent agreement.”
“Oh—there is one other thing I remember my sister telling me about your mother’s beau,” Vincent said.
She tried not to laugh at her father’s outdated term for her mother’s first love. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Karen said he lived in a house in that swanky Avenue Parkway neighborhood, in a purple Victorian.”
Tasha suppressed a gasp. Zed’s Victorian was purple and in Avenue Parkway. And Aunt Zora’s letter had mentioned rumors of Zed’s dad being involved with a childhood sweetheart. A further shocking thought came to her—had her and her mother’s visits to the Victorian been more than coincidental? Had the place they’d assumed belonged to a family who led idyllic lives been more of an illusion than she thought? And would the knowledge she possibly had further shatter that illusion—and possibly Zed’s heart?
* * *
Zed sat in the dark. Through the window he could see the navy blue sky, illuminated by a fingernail moon. Outside, crickets put on a free orchestra.
Tasha had retired to bed early. He could understand why. He knew the past week must have been overwhelming for her after meeting her father.
He wrung his hands several times. It was a nervous gesture from his childhood. He sympathized with Tasha and had been glad to be with her for the first meeting with the man who claimed to be her father.
He thought of the man that had rocked Tasha’s world. Something about the situation troubled Zed. Was Vincent really her father? Did he have ulterior motives? He wouldn’t tell Tasha, but he might just do a little bit of investigating. Because there was one thing he did know—Tasha was one of the sweetest women he’d ever met. And he’d do whatever it took within his power to protect her. It was critical that he talk to Vincent as soon as possible. If Tasha was in danger of being taken advantage of, he wanted to nip it in the bud. He’d give the guy a chance before he took more drastic measures, such as possibly hiring a private investigator.
Zed grabbed his phone and digitally penciled a time on his calendar the next day to drop by the assisted-living facility.
The next morning, after consuming a quick drive-through breakfast, he headed into the office early to get some tasks done and knock out a few committee meeting agendas in preparation for the new semester. Doing so would help make up for the time he’d planned to leave the office to meet Tasha’s dad. He was amazed at how fast the morning sped by.
When he finally maneuvered his truck into a parking space at Vincent’s facility, he cut the engine, took a deep breath and sat quietly for a moment.
His heart would break for Tasha if his suspicions were true that the man who claimed to be her father, which was still questionable, had ulterior motives for contacting her. He didn’t know how he would tell her about Vincent, if his inkling was correct. He knew she was fragile.
First, he was bound and determined to find out if Vincent was truly her father. He planned to suggest a blood test. Vincent’s reaction would be telling.
Zed finally exited his vehicle and strolled to the facility’s entrance. He dipped his head in polite greeting to the front desk receptionist. She returned a kind smile that lit up her brown eyes as she offered him the sign-in book.
Zed scribbled his name and headed for Vincent’s room. He knocked to be polite.
Vincent was sitting at a small table by the only window in the room. A plant with both robust green leaves and a few curling brown ones sat next to a checkerboard. The man was evidently playing checkers with himself.
Surprise lit Vincent’s features when he spotted Zed in the doorway, and Zed guessed he wasn’t used to guests. “Well, hello, young man.”
“Hey, sir.” Regardless of his suspicions, his mother had taught him to always be a gentleman. He crossed the room and gave Vincent a fist pound.
Vincent shoved the game board aside and looked past Zed. “Is my daughter with you?”
Zed shook his head. “I thought you and I might talk.”
He mustered his most serious, normally intimidating expression. He didn’t want the man to think he was a pushover.
“You can probably imagine what a bombshell your news was to Tasha. She is a very trusting, kindhearted soul. I, however, am a little more wary. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Vincent’s watery dark eyes looked past him out the window.
“I should have known you’d play hardball. It’s obvious yo
u care for my daughter very much.”
Wow. My acting skills must be better than I thought. He squelched any consideration that Vincent could have seen anything more.
“I admit that finding Tasha was a bit selfish of me,” Vincent announced. “I need her emotional support, and to be honest, I thought a little financial help would be nice.” He ran his thick, withered fingers over his gray, buzz-cut hair.
To Zed’s surprise, Vincent’s eyes filled with tears. “I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed getting to know her,” Vincent continued. “Like seeing a mirror of myself, in some ways. Something about her kinda takes you by surprise, you know? She’s a sweet little thing. So kind.”
Zed sat in one of the chairs across from Vincent’s bed. The man’s words about Tasha struck a chord in him. But this wasn’t the confession he was expecting. He bolstered himself up and cut to the chase. “How do you feel about taking a blood test?”
Vincent’s expression remained confident. “I’m ready and willing. Anytime. I have nothing to hide. Private investigator, background check, you name it, I’ll do it.”
The air seeped out of Zed’s lungs, like water through a sieve. While he should have been glad his suspicions that the man was a scammer were wrong, he realized he’d been terrified he was right.
“You must love her very much,” Vincent said. “You’re very protective of her.”
Zed rocked back on his heels. The unexpected statement took him off guard. He struggled to get his game face on. “She is my wife,” he managed to eke out.
His words sounded weak even to his own ears as soon as they spilled out of his mouth. He abruptly rose. The conversation was getting a little too hot for him to handle. “Nice to see you again, sir.”
He shook Vincent’s hand and headed for the door. But before exiting, he halted and turned back toward the man. Vincent had been wrong for having any ulterior motive besides wanting to get to know his daughter. Period. She’d been hurt and used enough. But Zed still felt sorry for him and committed to pray for the man. “If it helps, Mr. Taliferro, I can assure you that getting to know your daughter is worth far more than any monetary gain. She’s priceless.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Take care of yourself, sir,” Zed said.
In the truck on the way home, when he recalled his final words to Vincent about Tasha, his heart raced. He reminded himself that their relationship had an end date. Period.
Chapter Twelve
It’s Valentine’s Day. My last holiday as a married woman. Tasha tried to push aside her mixed feelings about what had once been her favorite holiday—until she’d been dumped on Valentine’s, by text, at a five-star restaurant. And, to add insult to injury, she’d been left to pay the hefty bill, when her boyfriend Reggie had dismissed himself before dessert to head to the restroom and never returned. After unanswered calls and texts, later that night she’d received his breakup text. Boy, could she pick ’em.
After the incident she’d finally concluded that she wasn’t going to let some deadbeat boyfriend ruin the beauty of the holiday. She decided to fight to reignite her joy for the day by celebrating love in all its forms.
She hoped Zed had planned something for the day, since they’d celebrated the other two holidays of their faux marriage in a special way. But he’d said nothing about Valentine’s Day, even though he’d promised her, as a Christmas gift, three wonderful holidays.
Tasha guessed Valentine’s Day might be a hot-button item for Zed. Maybe he knew how much it meant to most women, and avoiding it was his way of keeping distance between them—a silent method of letting her know his resolve was airtight to not get romantically involved. For all she knew, he might just buy her a greeting card and chocolates. Not exactly original, but enough to meet the bare minimum requirement for the day for most ladies.
Tasha climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the window, enjoying the way the old floors creaked against her weight. She pushed back the white lace curtains and let daylight pour in.
A whishing sound caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see an envelope slide under the door.
“What in the world?”
She retrieved the pristine white envelope. The front had a picture of a heart with a crisscross line through it. She opened it and found a note in Zed’s squiggly handwriting, which read, “Happy Un-Valentine’s Day.”
Tasha crinkled her nose at the odd card. She didn’t know whether to be happy or offended.
She washed up and went downstairs, looking around to see what Zed might have planned, considering his odd note. Would there be crushed candy hearts and signs that read “down with love”?
She found him at the entrance to the kitchen. He blocked her way. “Hey, Tash.”
She tried to read his mysterious expression. “Thanks, I think, for the note.”
“You’re un-welcome,” Zed said.
Tasha laughed. “Okay, enough already. What’s going on?”
Zed’s eyebrows wiggled. “In time, my sweet.”
“Nice pun. You’re certainly on point today. Or not,” she joked.
He took a towel and put it on his crooked arm, like a high-class maître d’. “Your table is ready, mademoiselle.” He led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her.
On the table was a plate with heart-shaped pancakes covered with strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream.
“Oh, wow.” Tasha sat and noticed he didn’t have a plate. “Aren’t you joining me?”
“This is your day. It’s all about you. I’ve got an unforgettable day planned for you.”
Zed, in his old-man pajamas that she’d only seen men wear in old movies, with those mesmerizing eyes and smile that shamed the sun, made her heart miss a step in its regular dance in her chest.
“Okay, if this is my day and I can have anything I want, I’d like you to join me for breakfast.”
Something flickered in Zed’s eyes, but it quickly dissipated. “Your wish is my command.” He bowed grandly. “So boom. Keepin’ it real, here’s the plan for the day. I know Valentine’s Day is a messed-up holiday for you. Because of the dude who shall remain nameless, who broke up with you on one of your most favorite holidays, we’re going to undo your bad memories of the day from your past.”
Tasha’s insides felt like melted chocolate. However, she put on a steely front. “Nice,” she replied.
“And because I’m a master list maker and planner, here’s our itinerary for the day.” He removed a folded piece of paper from his robe pocket and handed it to her.
Tasha unfolded the paper and read the activities. They seemed random and unrelated. “How should I dress for the day?”
Zed headed to the stove to apparently make his pancakes. “As you wish, my chocolate drop.”
She chuckled. “What color should I wear?”
“Purple. Your favorite color,” he replied.
She hid her shock and surprise that he’d remembered the small detail about her.
Zed added small iron templates of hearts to the skillet and poured in batter. Once they were flipped and done, he prepared his plate similarly to hers, then poured a glass of milk before joining her with his meal. He immediately took a hefty swig of the beverage.
Tasha stifled a giggle.
“What?” Zed asked.
“You’ve got a milk mustache.” Without thinking, she reached over and ran her forefinger over his upper lip to remove the temporary mustache. She was so close, she felt the feathery waves of his warm, mouthwash-scented breath. The air in her lungs hitched. She sat back so fast, she almost lost her balance. Thankfully, she was able to grab the edge of the table to settle herself. Embarrassed, she felt her face flush.
She hoped Zed would laugh it off. But his expression was serious. Unsolved mysteries swirled in his light eyes.
Tasha quickly fin
ished her meal. “I’d better get ready, if we’re going to stay on schedule,” she said.
He nodded but said nothing.
* * *
Tasha rummaged through her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She usually wore red to celebrate the day for lovers. But she liked Zed’s suggestion of her favorite color, so she chose her favorite full-length purple velour dress. Its simple lines complemented her figure, and the color flattered her warm chocolate skin tone.
When she went downstairs to meet Zed, he whistled through his teeth. “Very nice,” he said.
“Thanks.” Tasha got her coat, gloves and winter scarf from the hall closet.
As they walked to the garage, she quizzed Zed. “So your first appointment says ‘therapy.’ Does this involve me pouring my heart out on a couch, and do I need tissues?”
“You’ll see,” he said. Zed opened the passenger side of the truck for her.
“Well, alrighty, then. Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“Littleton.”
Tasha’s heart warmed with pleasure. She loved quaint, small Colorado towns. Littleton, Colorado, was one of her favorites. The place retained its historic look with old vintage buildings, mixed with midcentury modern structures. She’d read that the town had really boomed just after World War II when the aerospace/aviation industry had picked the small town as a major hub.
As Zed maneuvered on the highway, Tasha observed him. He seemed oblivious to her as he belted out some song on the radio. To his credit, the man had many good qualities, but singing was not one of them. He was so bad, in a way he was good. You couldn’t say he didn’t pour his heart into it.
What surprised her most about him was his listening skills. She was sure she hadn’t mentioned her love for Littleton more than once in passing conversation. However, he seemed to remember even the little things that she loved.
She was so used to guys who made themselves the center of the world. They talked about themselves incessantly. They may or may not have asked her about herself. If they did, generally it was an afterthought. Like throwing a dog a bone.
Claiming His Christmas Inheritance Page 14