With a sigh, April sat at the table, focused on her tea. Mel offered her a plate of cookies, but she shook her head. “I’m still stuffed from dinner. And I’ll have you know I’ve never eaten three servings of cauliflower in my life.”
“There’s cauliflower in here?” Blythe said. “My brain shorted out at the bacon.”
“And cheese,” April said on another sigh. “You sure I can’t talk you into—?”
“Positive,” Mel said. “Not that I don’t think if anybody can make this work, it’d be you. But count me out.” Although she had to admit she wasn’t relishing the idea of job-hunting when she got back to Baltimore. And/or making five gazillion bacon-wrapped shrimp appetizers for weddings every weekend. Not to mention Blythe’s plans for the kitchen were...intriguing. But enough of that. “And I’m guessing you didn’t close the doors so nobody would hear you extolling the virtues of my cauliflower casserole.”
The cousins exchanged another glance before April took a cookie, anyway, nibbling at the edge for a moment before asking, “Has Quinn...talked to you?”
“Talked to me? Are you kidding, the kid never shuts up.” Again with the glances. And the prickles. “Okay, guys—what’s this about?”
Blythe burped the circa 1972 Tupperware container and turned, her hands braced on the edge of the counter behind her. “She came to April yesterday. While Ryder was here.”
“And I thought I’d convinced her that she needed to bring up the subject herself,” April said. “With you, I mean. But...”
She looked to Blythe, who pushed herself away from the counter and pulled out a kitchen chair. “But since she hasn’t...well. You should probably sit.”
Mel looked from one to the other, trying to make sense of what they were saying. “For God’s sake, you’re scaring me—what the hell is going on?”
“That’s what your daughter wants to know,” April said, and Mel’s gaze zinged to hers. “Believe me, I didn’t ask to get in the middle of this, but she seems to think there’s something you’re not telling her?”
Ouch.
For all the catching-up chitchat they’d shared over the past forty-eight hours, Mel had handily diverted the conversation away from the subject of her daughter’s paternity, partly because what her cousins didn’t know they couldn’t inadvertently let slip to certain small parties, and partly because Mel simply hadn’t wanted to get into it with them.
Just like when she’d been a kid, she realized, when self-protection had made her keep things to herself—a knee-jerk reaction, she supposed, to always feeling relegated to the sidelines—even though neither of her cousins had ever given her cause to not trust them. Or think they’d judge her.
Any more than there was reason to believe they’d judge her now.
Finally she lowered herself into the chair, her fingers closing around April’s when her cousin reached for her hand.
Then she pushed the plate of cookies toward her cousins. “It’s a long story. You might need fortification.”
* * *
An obscene amount of consumed cookies later, Blythe was all for an impromptu road trip to New York to drag Jeremy back by his ’nads to atone for his scumbaggery—a plan even sweet April appeared to consider for a moment before shaking her head. Even as she regarded Mel with genuine concern.
“My Lord, honey...what a fiasco.”
“Tell me about it.” Her stomach rebelling against all the sugar and butter—there was a first—Mel got up for a glass of milk. “Why on earth I even agreed to such a stupid scheme, I have no idea. And why the Caldwells thought it would work...” She shoved the milk carton back onto the shelf; the fridge wobbled when she slammed shut the door.
“You were scared, sugar,” April said. “You didn’t think you had any choice. And nobody’s gonna fault you for doing what you did.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you think my daughter’s going to think when she finds out?”
Blythe stood and stretched, her hands propped on her lower back. “That you’re the mom from hell, what else?” When Mel shot her a daggered look, Blythe shrugged. “She will get over it, sweetie.”
“Providing I ever figure out how to give her something to get over.”
“So you do want to tell her the truth?”
“What I want, is for this stupid secret to magically disappear. And, yes, I know that’s not going to happen, but the truth is, her father’s family wanted nothing to do with her. And since it’s been more than ten years and they apparently still don’t...” Mel forked her hands through her loose hair, then let them slap back onto the table. “At this point I honestly don’t give a damn about what they’d think, or how they’d react. What are they going to do, sue me for breach of contract? And I know the longer I put this off the worse it’s going to be. But...”
Blythe slipped a hand onto Mel’s back to gently rub between her shoulder blades. “But you can’t bear the thought of Quinn getting caught in the crossfire.”
“Exactly.”
“Does Ryder know?”
“He does now. But only because our grandmother died, bringing me inconveniently back to St. Mary’s.”
Blythe’s hand stilled. “You’re kidding—his parents didn’t even tell him?”
“Nope. And God knows Jeremy didn’t. You need somebody to ride shotgun with you on that road trip, Ry’s your guy.”
“Then there’s your answer,” April said.
“Letting Ry kill his brother?”
“Aside from that. Did he know when he came here that first night? After Quinn hurt herself?”
“Yes. Nana’s lawyer had apparently told Ryder’s dad we’d inherited the house. And he apparently thought it best to forewarn Ryder about Quinn.”
“So the secret’s beginning to unravel at the edges, anyway.”
Mel’s mouth pulled tight. “At one edge, anyway. But that makes things even trickier. That Quinn and Ryder have already met. She already adores him—”
“And he, her,” April said. “Meaning I bet he’ll do anything to help you straighten this out.” Mel covered her eyes, groaning. “No, really. Let Ryder be the go-between. Especially since I assume he’s not exactly pleased with his parents right now.” April grinned. “And since from what little I observed I’m guessing Quinn’s not the only one Ryder’s keen to bond with.”
At Blythe’s snort, April turned on her cousin. “Don’t you snort at me, Blythe Broussard. It’s perfectly obvious Ryder’s still got a thing for Mel.”
Mel raised her hand. “Um, actually—”
“And now that you’re all grown up,” April said to Mel, “he could actually do something about it. And so could you.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
“And we’ve already established how sweet you were on him that last summer we were all together. So this is a no-brainer, right?”
Momentarily giving up on wedging reality into the conversation, Mel looked at Blythe. “It was really that obvious?”
Her cousin laughed, and Mel sighed. Then Blythe said, “Although forgive me for being the voice of reason, but unlike Miss Stars-in-the-Eyes here, I’m not seeing this end well. Yeah, fine, maybe it would work to have him be the mediator between you and his parents, but anything else?” She shook her head. “Take my advice, don’t even go there. Because no way this isn’t all going to blow up in everybody’s faces—”
“For heaven’s sake,” April said, soundlessly slapping her delicate little hand on the table. “Stop being so darn cynical—”
“Guys! Sheesh!” Mel clunked her empty glass on the counter. “April, sorry, but I’m with Blythe on this one. This really is a non-starter. About me and Ryder, I mean. Even if his fiancée hadn’t died last year—”
April sucked in a little breath. “Ohmigod, you’re kidding?”
“Nope. And he’s still grieving. Then there’s the little issue of my not being exactly gung ho about jumping into another relationship after my own disaster—”
“But maybe you’re exactly what Ryder needs to heal,” April said, and Blythe groaned out, “Oh, for pity’s sake...”
“April! Not. Happening. Because no matter how this thing gets resolved—assuming that it does, which is not a given—do you really think I’d ever want a connection with that family again after what they did to me? To Quinn?”
“Not even with Ryder? But that’s so unfair!”
“Dammit, April—nothing about any of this is fair! And you know something else?” she said, getting to her feet. “Nobody can figure out how to handle this but me, because I’m the one who bungled everything to begin with. So if you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and I’m about to fall over, so I’ll see you two in the morning.”
But before she got to the door, Blythe called to her. When Mel turned back, her cousins were standing side by side, both with their arms crossed, both clearly loaded for bear.
“First off,” Blythe said, “so help me if I ever hear you take the entire blame for this on yourself, ever again, I will bitchslap you clear into next week.”
“Yeah. What she said,” April said, and Mel got all teary. Honestly, she was getting as bad as April.
“Thanks, guys—”
Blythe’s hand flew up. “Not done yet. Quinn’s your daughter, so of course it’s ultimately your call. But, sweetie, this is your chance to resolve something that’s obviously worrying you to death. And my guess is you’re going to beat yourself up even more if you leave St. Mary’s without resolving it. One way or the other.”
Mel’s mouth popped open, only to clamp shut again. Because her cousin was right. Eleven years ago she’d left because she’d felt she’d had no choice. This time the choice was hers—to continue running from the lie, or face it head on.
To—okay, might as well be honest—dodge her feelings about Ryder, or to face them head on, as well.
“Call Ryder, sweetie,” Blythe said, as April bobble-headed beside her.
Agita, Mel thought on a long sigh. I has it.
Chapter Six
Monday decided to be one of those blue-skied, Indian-summer days that lured people outdoors. Or, in this case, prompted Ryder’s father to invite Ryder to join him for lunch at a little café not far from the clinic, housed in what had originally been an eighteenth-century tavern. St. Mary’s was nothing if not riddled with historic vibes. And, this time of year, sleepy to the point of comatose. Even the gulls that normally pestered the hell out of everyone during the height of the summer season couldn’t be bothered to venture the few blocks inland.
But the sun was warm and the breeze balmy, so Ryder and David took advantage of the gulls’ disinterest to dine al fresco in the deserted courtyard adjacent to the restaurant, even though Ryder knew not even the peaceful setting would soothe his jangled nerves.
“Beautiful day,” his father said, tucking into his chicken salad sandwich and not looking at Ryder. “Hard to believe winter’s right around the corner.”
“Happens every year,” Ryder said, and his father smiled. Still gazing across the street at one of the many antiques shops lining Main Street, he said, “So. Have you met the child yet?”
Well, well.
Despite his father’s being the one to alert him to Mel’s return, since the subject had pointedly not surfaced during family dinner the day before, Ryder had assumed it would be up to him to broach it. But only with Mel’s permission, which he’d yet to figure out how to get. Just like she’d yet to agree to have dinner with him.
“Yes, actually,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and studying his father’s profile. “She hurt herself that first night, needed some stitches. I happened to be around.”
His father’s eyes cut to his. “So you went over there after you talked to us.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
David looked away again. “What’s she like?” he asked, and Ryder saw it, the chink in the armor. A chink he imagined had always been there, now wrenched wide open by the knowledge that his granddaughter was barely a mile away.
“She looks like Jeremy,” Ryder said, and his father pressed his lips together. “But she’s smart like Mel. Curious about everything. Funny. Bit of a smartass.” He paused, then said, “You’d love her.”
“I bet I would.” He pushed his plate away. “And Mel? How is she?”
“Angry,” Ryder said simply, his gut twisting that his family had done this to her, turned the always smiling girl he’d known into someone he almost didn’t recognize. Except he knew—or had to believe, at least—that she was still there, underneath all that disillusionment. “She’s also coming off a relationship that ended badly, which isn’t exactly adding to her good mood at the moment.”
“I swear to you, it wasn’t my idea—”
“I know. But that doesn’t change anything. The damage is done. And this isn’t something that can be fixed with a dose of antibiotics or a few stitches. Good God, Dad—what were you and Mom thinking?”
Judging from the wounded look in his father’s eyes, Ryder’s blow hit its mark dead on. David ripped open two packets of sugar, dumping them in his iced tea as sparrows twittered in the Virginia-creeper-choked trellises nearby. “And I suppose you want to tell Jeremy. That you’ve seen her.”
“Crap’s gonna hit the fan eventually, Dad. And whether I tell him or not,” he said, watching his father stir his tea, “Jeremy is an adult. Now, at least. And he will deal.” Ryder paused. “And so will Mom. Man,” he said with a dry laugh and a short shake of his head, “she’s pulled some doozies over the years, but this one takes the cake—”
“It’s not as if we completely turned our backs!” David said, clattering the teaspoon onto the edge of his plate. “We have been supporting the child all these years—”
“You bought Mel off! And making sure the kid didn’t starve and had a roof over her head was the least you could have done—”
“I want to meet her,” his father said on a rush of air, tears welling in his eyes.
Despite his father’s obvious contrition, Ryder refused to let his plea derail him, or undermine the resurrected, all-consuming protectiveness that now included Quinn as well as Mel. They came first. As Mel should have then, had Ryder listened to his gut instead of his hormones. Even so, he was curious how far his father’s change of heart went.
“Behind Mom’s back?”
“If necessary.”
Wow. And frankly the idea was at least momentarily tempting, not only for the satisfaction of getting one over on his mother, but because Ryder knew Quinn and his father would get on like gangbusters. However...
“Sorry, Dad, but it’s not up to me. Nothing I can do.”
“Can’t you talk to Mel, feel her out...?”
“She’s already made her feelings on the subject more than plain. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Quinn’s getting hurt she wouldn’t even have let me meet her.”
“But if your mother and I were the ones who set the conditions to begin with—?”
“Conditions you can’t simply undo with a wave of your hand because you’ve changed your mind.”
Shoving his trembling hand underneath his glasses, David rubbed his eyelids, then pushed the glasses back into place. “This is torture, Ry, knowing she’s so close...” He glanced away, clearly trying to compose himself. “We made a terrible mistake, Ry.”
“You think?”
David’s gaze met his. “You’ll never forgive us for this, will you?”
Anger fisted in Ryder’s chest. “Forgive you for what, Dad? For writing off someone you knew meant a great deal to me? For rewarding Maureen’s loyalty by treating her daughter like trash? For rewa
rding Jeremy’s behavior by absolving him of any responsibility whatsoever—?”
“And if I could undo it, I would! I told you, we—”
“Screwed up. Got it.” Ryder got to his feet to dump his unfinished lunch in a nearby garbage can. “But you know what? What I think, whether or not I can forgive you, is immaterial. Because this isn’t about either you or me. It’s about Quinn. And Mel. Who has no earthly idea what to tell her daughter when she asks about her father—”
“Then let Mel know it’s okay to tell Quinn the truth!”
“Here’s a better idea—how about you let her know that? No, wait—you and Mom. Together. In fact...” Suddenly, he saw the glimmer of a solution, one that kept eluding him as long as he’d kept thinking it was entirely up to him to bring it about. “I’ll make a deal with you—you get Mom to admit this was a mistake, and I’ll broach the subject with Mel.”
Hope bloomed in his father’s eyes. “So you’ll arrange a meeting?”
“Not so fast. This wound’s been festering for way too long to be cleared up by a single ‘sorry, we blew it,’ so I have no idea what Mel’s reaction will be. She might still tell you both to go to hell. And she’d be completely justified.”
“Good God, Ry—whose side are you on?”
He pushed out a dry laugh. “The side that would have never let this travesty get as far as it did.” At his father’s stung expression, Ryder said, more gently, “Dad...I didn’t have to come back to St. Mary’s, I chose to. Chose to risk Mom’s wrath that I didn’t become a specialist because I wanted to practice alongside you. Because I feel the work you’re doing, right here, is important. And because in many, many ways, I admire the hell out of you. You’re the whole reason I became a doctor, okay? So in that respect I will always be on your side.”
He laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. “But what you and Mom did to Mel was about as far from admirable as it gets. Which you’ve already admitted. Still, for reasons I’ve never understood—and don’t want to get into now, believe me—you and Mom have each other. Mel...” He shrugged.
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