“What the heck did you order, bro?” Pat asked, maneuvering to set it on the sofa.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
He and Lilly joined his brother, and he examined the package, truly confused by it. The thing was massive—it had so be something like thirty by forty inches, and fairly thin.
“It looks like a picture,” Lilly piped up.
“You’re right, sweetie, it sure does.” He bent closer to read the name of the sender. “C. Martins,” he read. He turned to his brother. “Who the hell is C. Martins?”
“Damn if I know. See what it is.”
Caleb tore through the brown packaging and the label that indicted the package was for urgent next-day delivery, and threw the paper to the floor, finally revealing the mystery object.
He couldn’t breathe.
“Holy shit!” PJ cried, then instantly covered Lilly’s ears. “You didn’t hear that, sweetie.”
She squealed and pointed. “It’s you, Uncle Caleb!”
Perched on the sofa before him was the portrait Syd had sketched of him when he was in her kitchen their first night together. It was absolutely stunning—the detail, the use of light and shadow… It made his heart clench with sadness.
PJ nodded at the corner of the canvas. “There’s a note.”
Caleb carefully peeled it off and opened it, reading it aloud.
“Hi. We’ve never met, but I’m Cara, Syd’s best friend. I found this at her place yesterday and thought you should have it. She can’t even look at the painting without crying, so what’s the use of her keeping it, right? Anyways, Caleb, I hope you can see the love she has for you in each and every brush stroke. And she does love you, you know. More than anything. She’s going through a very bad time at the moment and she’s trapped—but I pray for her, and you, that one day soon she’ll be free to love you again. And I pray just as hard that when that time comes, you’ll at least give her an audience and let her explain. Hurting you was the one thing she never wanted to do, and the one thing she’ll never stop punishing herself for. Please—try to think about it. Thanks, Cara. P.S. She has no idea I sent this to you. P.P.S. She’ll probably kill me when she finds out, so—nice meeting you.”
Pat frowned. “That’s the second time we’ve heard something alluding to her not having a choice in not being able to be with you.”
Caleb nodded. “I know. And the second time I’ve been told there’s something really bad going on in her life right now.”
“Is that why we haven’t seen Sydney lately?” Lilly asked quietly, looking up at him with a frown on her lips.
“Yes, baby,” Caleb said, kissing the top of her head. “We’re not together anymore.”
Her cherub face grew serious. “Do you miss her, Uncle Caleb?”
His shoulders sank. “I do, but it doesn’t matter. She’s marrying someone else today.”
She tugged on his arm and pulled him down to her level. She looked him in the eye and asked, “But do you still love her?”
Not about to lie, he answered. “More than anything.”
“Well, then you should go get her before it’s too late!”
Pat put an arm around his little girl and smiled. “It’s not that easy, pumpkin…”
“Why not? I know she loved Uncle Caleb, too! She loved him a whole lot. I could tell.”
“How’s that?” Caleb asked.
“She looked at you exactly the same way Grandma used to look at Grandpa,” she stated.
Pat and Caleb glanced at each other and, as their eyes met, a spark of hope lit up in Caleb’s heart.
“She has a point,” Pat whispered.
His gaze rested on the picture, saying nothing. Lilly was right. The one thing he had always said he wanted out of a relationship was lasting love, for someone he could love with every ounce of his being, and for someone to gaze at him with as much love and tenderness as his mother had their father.
That was exactly how he felt about Syd.
And she really did look at him like that.
He turned to his brother. “You’re right. She does have a point,” he murmured.
“Well then, what are you waiting for, bro? Go get her!”
Chapter Forty-Three
The Bridal March sounded and Sydney linked arms with each of the two handsome men flanking her. She’d requested both her father and brother walk her down the aisle—there was no one else she’d rather have by her side on this day. She glanced first at Theo, then her father. “I love you both so much,” she whispered. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”
His voice no more than a strangled croak, her father said, “Nikoleta, you are my angel.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“I’ll figure out a way to get you out of this,” Theo promised, his voice raw.
The love that she had from these two wonderful men was all she needed to keep her strong, to keep her whole. With them, she could survive anything.
They stepped out and she caught a glimpse of Brett waiting for her. For a moment, her vision grew fuzzy, the guests on either side fading away, and in her mind’s eye all she saw was Caleb. She pictured him standing at the altar waiting for her, smiling that silly goofball grin he got on his face when he told her he loved her, looking gorgeous as ever in his tux with his blond hair combed back off his face and his blue eyes radiating love. The fog cleared and reality crashed in around her—and she began to shake, sick to her stomach.
If only it was you, Caleb.
Theo, as if knowing what was going through her mind, squeezed her hand for added support. She smiled up at him and nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture.
They began their walk down the cream-colored aisle and Syd took in her surroundings. It was the first time she’d seen the venue, since Brett had taken care of the majority of the details himself. The ballroom at the hotel was stunning—ornately crafted walls and detailed cornices drew in one’s attention and the crystal accents were simply breathtaking. She could envision many weddings taking place in such beautiful surroundings—just not hers.
Yet, here she was.
As they approached the altar, they passed Cara, whose face was a mix of sadness and pain. She took a deep breath and winked at her, trying to silently reassure her that everything would be okay.
When they reached Brett, her father and brother took their seats and she turned to face the man she was about to marry. He clasped her hand in his and whispered, “We will be fine,” his voice hard.
The small, gray-haired officiant smiled warily at them, obviously sensing the tension in the air, and instructed them to face each other. “We are gathered here today…”
Syd tuned him out—she had no desire to listen to his musings on love, life and relationships.
She glanced around the room and spotted Melanie sitting with her parents. The poor girl looked as if she was about to heave. Mrs. Hudson had a smile pasted on her lips and, to anyone else, she must have appeared to be the thrilled mother of the groom. Now that Syd had an inkling of what really went on in the recesses of the woman’s life, she could easily see that the smile was in fact a carefully placed mask. The sadness in her eyes betrayed that mask, though, and the cracks and imperfections were visible to Syd. It was as if she knew what Sydney had in store for her with Brett. Mr. Hudson had that self-satisfied smirk on his lips, exactly as he had the night she’d visited their house for dinner. It was as if he’d won the lottery or placed a bet on the winning horse.
Disgusting.
The officiant cleared his throat. “Sydney?”
She turned to stare at him.
“Sydney, do you take Brett to be your husband, to live together with him in the covenant of marriage?”
She glanced at Theo—he was trying so hard to be strong for her, but the expression on his face said it all. He was devastated by what was about to happen.
“Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep in him sickness and in health, forsaking all others to be fai
thful unto him as long as you both shall live?”
She turned to her father. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and he appeared as miserable as she felt, the sadness and worry taking over his features.
Oh, Papa.
She dragged her eyes away from him and faced Brett. “I—”
“No! Stop! Stop this right now! Nikoleta, you cannot do this,” her father cried. He rushed to the altar and placed a frail hand on her arm. “You mustn’t.”
She covered his hand with hers, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay…”
He shook his head adamantly. “It is not. Whatever happens, let it. But I won’t… I can’t… I… I…”
His face went white and beads of sweat broke out across his brow. “Nikki,” he rasped, his eyes wide with panic.
“Papa!”
He clutched his chest and went limp in her arms, crumpling to the floor.
While Caleb bolted from room to room gathering items he needed for the trip, his brother called the small airstrip that stored Divine Intervention’s private jet and ensured it would be ready to go as soon as Caleb arrived. Lilly rushed around with her uncle, taking things from his hands and stuffing them into the overnight duffel he’d tossed on the bed.
He stopped mid-stride, picked her up and gave her a huge kiss on her forehead. “Best niece ever,” he whispered, hugging her tightly.
She beamed. “I know.”
He was grabbing a few things from the bathroom when his brother literally slid into the room, making Lilly erupt into giggles.
“Okay, jet will be ready for you. What else do you need me to do?”
Caleb nodded toward the green notepad that sat on his dresser. “Somewhere in there is Jenny’s number, from Christou’s. Can you call her and find out where the wedding is taking place?”
“On it!” PJ snagged the small pad and whisked out of the room, his daughter following him.
Caleb zipped the black duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder. He grabbed his car keys, wallet and phone, and headed downstairs. Pat was still on the phone with Jenny.
“No, I understand that,” he said. “Yes, I know it’s a family event, but that’s the thing, see? We’re supposed to be there.” He shot a glance at his brother and rolled his eyes. “Well, no, we don’t have an invitation, Jenny. That’s why we’re calling you, honey.” A pause. “That’s exactly right, and Mr. Christou asked us to surprise his daughter at the reception and sing a song or two.” Pat let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth and crossed his eyes—Lilly had to cover her mouth to muffle her laughter. “I would really appreciate it, honey. I do. Yuh huh…” He grabbed a pen and began scribbling furiously on a blank page in Caleb’s notepad. “I got it. You, Jenny, are one amazing lady. I owe you.”
He placed the handset back in the cradle and tore out the page he’d written on. “Now go,” he said, giving it to his brother.
He took a deep breath and gave PJ a quick hug. “Here goes nothing.”
“Uncle Caleb!” Lilly called as he stepped out the door. “Do you have your passport?”
His eyes widened, realizing he hadn’t taken it with him. “Canada. Different country. Got it. Right,” he mumbled, rushing by them and heading toward his office. A moment later he was back and tucking it into his bag.
He smiled at PJ. “I swear, that kid of yours. What would I do without the two of you?”
“Crash and burn,” Pat called out as Caleb sat behind the wheel. “Now go get your girl!”
That was exactly what he intended to do.
It was a short five-minute commute to Vancouver General Hospital from the hotel. They’d been there, waiting for information about her father, for nearly an hour now, and panic was beginning to take root in Syd’s heart. Every time a doctor or nurse came out, they looked at them expectantly, but they would tend to someone else in the waiting room instead. It was a surprisingly light night in the ER and the room was emptying quickly as each person was taken in.
Theo was quietly frantic, pacing the room so much it was a wonder he hadn’t worn a dent in the tile. Syd, perched on a chair and wringing her fingers, watched her brother as he moved about. Surely he was expending enough nervous energy for the both of them. Melanie was sitting on one side, Cara on the other, both speaking in hushed tones, trying to calm and reassure her that her father would be perfectly fine.
Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were there too—the former tapping his foot impatiently, as if put out by having to be there, and the latter staring at her hands, her face unreadable.
Brett sat off to the side, away from everyone, his expression guilt-ridden. Every so often he’d glance her way, but other than that he was unmoving, and said not a word.
Good.
At long last a doctor came out and approached their small group. “Mr. Christou’s family?”
Syd jumped out of her chair, and Theo skidded to her side. “That’s us,” they said in unison. “We’re his children,” Syd explained.
He nodded and held out his hand in introduction. “I’m Dr. Eddleson, the attending physician for your father and—”
“How is he, Dr. Eddleson?” Theo interrupted.
“Your father suffered a minor heart attack. He’ll be okay—”
“Oh, thank God!”
“But please realize he may not be as lucky next time. Has he been under any stress recently?”
Theo narrowed his eyes and Syd shot Brett a glance. He was standing on the outskirts of the small group, his head lowered, a frown plastered on his lips. “A tremendous amount of stress,” she answered.
She could have sworn Mr. Hudson rolled his eyes.
The doctor nodded again and jotted something in the file he held. “He needs to be removed from that stressful environment immediately. His heart is weakened and the next attack, if one comes, might not be as kind to him.” He closed the folder and smiled at them. “He’s resting peacefully. You can go see him, if you like, but only for a minute.”
“That would be great,” she breathed.
He smiled softly. “I’m sorry this had to happen, let alone on your wedding day. Your father is going to need all the love and strength you can offer him when he wakes, so might I suggest you head home and change into something a little more comfortable?”
Cara came up behind Sydney. “I’ll give you guys a lift.”
“By the time you get back to the hospital we’ll have moved your father out of the ER and to a private room—ask one of the nurses for his room number when you arrive. When he’s moved, Dr. Sagnet will be taking care of him, but feel free to have someone page me should you have any questions in the interim.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Eddleson,” Theo said, taking his hand again and shaking it.
The doctor squeezed Syd’s shoulder reassuringly. “Your father will be fine, and soon enough he’ll be able to celebrate your marriage with you. Follow me, I’ll show you where your father is.”
She pasted a smile on her face. “Thanks.”
As they started down the hall, Brett suddenly touched Syd’s arm. She turned to him, and he couldn’t even meet her gaze. His head tucked, he whispered, “I’m…I’m so sorry this happened.”
“It’s too late to be sorry, Brett. It’s too late for a lot of things,” she responded, turning away from him and going to check on her father.
Chapter Forty-Four
Pat, the saint that he was, had had the foresight to have a car waiting for Caleb at the airport when he arrived in Vancouver. All he had to do after he disembarked was go through customs and security, snag the keys from the rental kiosk and hop in the car. Behind the wheel, he pulled out the address for the Rosewood Georgia Hotel and punched it into his GPS. He took one last look at the note from Cara, then put the car into drive.
I’m coming to get you, Syd.
It wasn’t long before he arrived at the hotel. After parking in the underground lot, he walked as fast as possible to the elevators. When he reached the main floor, Caleb began the hunt for the
Spanish Ballroom, where the reception was taking place. The ceremony had happened hours ago, but if he was able to get to her, convince her to talk to him, and if he could understand why she’d done what she’d done, and what was going on… maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too late for them.
He skidded to a stop in front of the room and opened the heavy doors, expecting to see a crowd of people milling about, dancing and chatting at tables…but the room was empty save for one female employee and a dozen scattered tables, white table cloths bunched into the center of each. He was stunned—it was only eight o’clock in Vancouver—there should have been at least a handful of drunken guests wobbling about on the dance floor.
He wove through the tables and tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you might be able to help me out?”
She turned to him, and a shock of recognition flashed in her brown eyes. “I, oh my God, you’re, it’s…”
He smiled warmly. “Hi.”
“Caleb Jones!” she squeaked, quickly smoothing her hair and licking her lips.
“That’s me,” he grinned.
She straightened her back and thrust out her chest. “What can I do for you?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave or two. She batted her eyelashes and pouted.
He groaned internally. He did not have time for this.
“The Christou-Hudson wedding. Did the party end early or have they moved to another room or venue?”
Her face went pale and a small hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh… Oh dear, you’re here for that. Didn’t you hear?”
“Hear? Hear what?”
“Mr. Christou, the bride’s father, suffered a heart attack in the middle of the ceremony!”
“What?” He frowned, picturing the vivacious, friendly older man.
“Yeah,” she continued. “They didn’t even get to say ‘I do’ or anything. They halted the ceremony and sent everyone home. He was rushed to the hospital.”
“Do you know which hospital they took him too?”
“Vancouver General,” she answered. “It’s pretty close to the hotel.”
Little White Lie Page 26