“It really is serious?”
“I wouldn’t have called you otherwise. You need to get down here right away.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I’ll let her explain when you get here. Hurry home. She’s asking for you.”
The guilt screws tightened. She was torn. It could be a trap, but what if it wasn’t? Could she live with herself if she didn’t go and something terrible happened to her mother?
Would it be unreasonable to ask for medical reports as proof before forking out over four hundred dollars for a last-minute flight south?
Amanda sighed. “Okay, I’ll be on the first flight I can get.”
She hung up before her stepfather could even say good-bye.
She scrolled through her cell phone contacts until she found who she was looking for.
She dialed the Bryson’s household.
“Ma. It’s Amanda.”
“Amanda, honey! How are you?”
“Sorry for the sudden call, but I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Of course, what’s wrong?”
“My mother is very sick, and I need to go down to Miami. Can you do me a big favor and keep Greg and Chaos until I get back?”
“Of course! We would love to.”
Why couldn’t her mother be just like Mary Ann? Loving and open…trustworthy?
“He’ll need to be picked up at day care. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
“Honey, it’s no problem. We have nothing better to do than watch these trees grow. We welcome the company since the boys are out of the house.”
“Thank you. Greg will love it. I’ll drop a suitcase for him off at the day care on my way out of town.”
“Godspeed, Amanda. Don’t worry; we’ll take good care of that boy.”
“I know you will. Thank you, Ma.”
After a quick call to the day care, Amanda hung up the phone, then sprinted up the stairs. She had to pack three bags, one for her, one for Greg, and another for Chaos. She was already despising the long four-hour drive to the airport.
* * * *
Amanda felt lucky to find a flight that evening from Philadelphia that was not fully booked and had a short stopover in Atlanta. With relief, she landed in Miami without incident. She hated flying.
Even though it was after midnight, the unusual sweltering heat hit her as she stepped out of the terminal and hailed a cab. She used to love this heat. Now it seemed miserable. Humid. Oppressive…
It was a forty-minute ride to her mother’s gated community. The guard didn’t recognize Amanda in the backseat but waved the cab through anyway.
As they drove through the neighborhood, she was startled to find herself disgusted at the waste of money sunk into the oversize homes. She had never felt this way before. Now, living in Manning Grove, the excess was obvious. No one needed all of this to live a happy life.
As the cab rounded the horseshoe-shaped brick driveway and pulled up to the meticulously groomed front yard of the 10,000-plus square-foot home, she wondered why such an expansive residence would be needed for only two people. Two people who were hardly home anyway.
And what sickened Amanda the most was that this was one of the smaller homes in the neighborhood. The Manning Grove house where she lived with Greg was about the same size as her mother’s garage.
As she leaned over to pay the cabbie, one of the house staff ran down the front steps to grab her lone bag out of the trunk.
“Miss Amanda?”
“Yes.”
“Follow me. Your father is waiting for you.”
“He’s not my father,” she muttered under her breath.
She knew it would do no good to point that out to the staff, as they probably didn’t give a damn anyway. She followed the uniformed—another ridiculous expense—fortyish man into the immense foyer.
Her stepfather, dressed in a robe, greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek and a weak pat on the back. Amanda’s thoughts went to Ron Bryson’s crippling bear-hug greeting last Christmas. She had felt more at home there as a guest than she did at this house.
“You made it down here quickly. If I’d have known you were going to get down here tonight, I’d have sent a car.”
Her mother was supposed to be sick and possibly dying. Of course she came quickly. “Well, you said it was urgent.”
“It is. It is, my dear.”
“Where’s Mother?”
“In bed. She’s sleeping. Why don’t you go settle in your room and get some rest. You can see her in the morning.”
Amanda looked at her gold-and-diamond Bulova watch—so out of place in Manning Grove, but actually very conservative in her new setting. It was almost two a.m.
“Okay. You’re right. I don’t want to disturb her sleep right now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Amanda hiked up the winding stairs before her stepfather could land another mushy peck on her cheek.
She found “her” room and noticed one of the staff had already delivered her luggage. Her mother had designated this bedroom as Amanda’s when they bought the house, even though Amanda had never lived there. Wishful thinking by her mother. She looked around and noticed with disgust that someone had strategically placed pictures of Carlos all over the bedroom.
She couldn’t sleep with Carlos’s dark liquid eyes staring at her from every direction, so she went around and slapped all the frames facedown. After that, Amanda undressed and, with a long, exhausted sigh, crawled into bed.
She was beat.
* * * *
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hello! Just in time for supper.” Mary Ann went over and tilted her face toward him. Max obediently leaned down to let his mother kiss him.
“Smells good; what are you cooking?”
“Honey-dipped chicken.”
Max’s stomach growled in response. “Wow, what’s the occasion? You haven’t made that in a long time. You claimed that it was going to put Pop in the grave.”
Mary Ann waved a hand at her son. “Well, we have a guest.”
“Oh?” Max’s eyebrows lowered, pinning together. “Who?”
“Wait. You don’t know?” An emotion crossed his mother’s face, but she schooled it quickly before Max could get a read on it.
He glanced at the farm slab-topped table and noticed an extra place setting. “Should I?”
Had they invited Amanda over so they could feel them out on their relationship? Amanda was supposed to be keeping that on the DL from his mother. She had promised.
His father’s booming voice preceded Ron into the kitchen. “Dinner done yet, woman?”
Mary Ann smiled at her husband’s term of endearment.
“This boy and I are hungry; we’ve been working hard all day shaping those trees.”
Ron stepped through the kitchen doorway and stopped. “I thought I saw your truck out there. There’s always room for one more at the table.” Ron turned to look behind him and yelled, “C’mon, boy, get up to the sink and wash those grimy hands of yours before supper.”
Greg brushed past Ron. Max’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at the younger man in surprise. Greg had a torn shirt, more than one smudge of dirt on his face, his hands were completely covered in soil, and he smelled like a pine tree.
Not to mention, he looked like one too.
Max’s mother stepped up and began to pluck needles out of Greg’s shirt and his tousled hair. “What did you do? Wrestle with those trees? Now go wash up.”
Greg smiled and did as he was told, widening his grin at Max as he passed the larger man.
“Max…Max! I was trimmin’ trees.”
“I see that, pal.”
He turned to his parents, who stood next to each other watching Greg scrub his hands with soap and water, a wistful look on both of their faces. He could see their desperate desire for grandchildren.
Max frowned at their obvious train of thought and lowered his voice before asking, “What’s he doing here?”
“Amanda? What should she have told me?”
“That she had to leave town.”
Sudden panic squeezed his chest. This was the last thing he had expected. “What do you mean? For good?”
“No, silly bird! Her mother is sick. She had to rush down to Miami.”
He grabbed his cell phone off his hip to check for any missed calls or texts.
His phone was dead. Damn it. This wasn’t the first time, and he was tired of his piece of shit phone dying on him. He was going to get a new phone first thing in the morning.
He was sure Amanda had tried to contact him. She would have, right? Especially since things had been going great for them in the last month.
But, no matter what, he was glad that his parents had taken Greg in temporarily.
“When did she leave?”
“Late last night. Said she was taking a red-eye.”
He shook his head. “Is her mother serious?”
“Don’t know, Son. I thought you would’ve talked to her. She didn’t give us many details. Said she didn’t know when she’d be back. Sent a big suitcase along with the boy with enough clothes in there to last him a good month.”
A month. His mother was probably exaggerating.
Max ate dinner impatiently. He felt as jumpy as Greg. He didn’t even enjoy one of his favorite meals. He couldn’t get Amanda out of his head. He worried about her traveling alone.
Hell, he worried about her being anywhere near that conniving mother of hers and her lapdog, Carlos.
He hoped she was staying out of trouble.
Chapter Seventeen
Amanda spent the day by her mother’s side. Her mother was pleasant, quite talkative, and seemed well enough to watch all her daytime soaps.
She wasn’t acting sick. At all. The cook served all her meals in bed, and Amanda’s stepfather came in to fuss over her every once in a while.
Anne loved all the attention. Of course, she would.
That grated on Amanda. She couldn’t help but question whether her mother was “dying” like she claimed. She didn’t even look seriously ill. Anne hadn’t had so much as a little sniffle.
Anne had her appetite, had color in her cheeks, and certainly spent plenty of time on the phone, chatting with her country-club friends.
She drank lots of juice and took lots of trips to the restroom. Unassisted.
Every time Amanda asked her mother what she was diagnosed with, she came up with a different excuse of why she didn’t know—or couldn’t pronounce—the name of the illness. But she knew that it was—or at least, could be—fatal. Funny how the doctor hadn’t even called once to check up on her mother. And no hospice? Right.
Not that she wanted her mother to die, but Anne looked healthy enough to her.
As she sat next to her mother’s bed—Anne cloaked in a shiny gold nightgown like a queen—Amanda was getting edgy.
She had wanted to return to Miami so badly, and now that she was here…she wanted to go back.
Not only did she unbelievably miss Manning Grove, she missed a big, frustrating man in a blue uniform. And Greg too.
Norman peeked his head around the bedroom door.
“Amanda, there is someone here to see you.” His head disappeared, and a moment later the door burst open. Squeals of delight echoed through the room, making Amanda grimace.
Her three girlfriends bounded into the room, taking their turns hugging her.
Amanda didn’t fail to notice her mother’s sly smile.
“Mandy! We’ve missed you.” Meghan.
“We’re so glad you’re home.” Allison.
“It’s about time you wise up and get back here to reality.” And Darcie.
“Yeah, come back to the real world.”
As the three women chattered away, Amanda just stood there looking at her friends in amazement. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Why, Amanda, we heard you were home. You should have called us! We couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get together. Hello, Mrs. Bingman.”
“Hello, girls! Come, come, have a seat.” She patted the plush mattress. “You can sit on the bed.”
The three women plopped on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” Allison asked.
“Much better, now that you girls are here.”
Amanda eyed her mother, ice spreading through her veins. She could no longer deny that she had been set up. Was it so bad that she had held out hope that one day Anne might act like a real mother? A mother who could love her daughter no matter what? Why did she do this to herself over and over? A cynical voice in her head answered: because I am a fucking fool!
Darcie leaned toward Amanda. “Mandy, you have to go out with us tonight. We’re going clubbing!”
Meghan piped in, “You can’t say no. It’s Friday!”
“Yes, we won’t let you.”
“I’ve got Daddy’s limo,” Allison crowed. “So we won’t even need a designated driver.”
With all the seriousness Amanda could muster, she answered gravely, “I can’t. My mother is sick. I can’t leave her.”
“Sure you can, darling. I’ll be fine. You go and have fun.”
That was the exact reaction she had expected. For once, her mother didn’t disappoint her.
“Come on, Mandy, there’s a cool new club. It serves all kinds of specialty martinis.”
“You love those martinis. Remember when you drank four Godiva chocolate martinis in an hour and Carlos had to drive you home, because you—”
Amanda abruptly interrupted them, “Yes, I remember.” Though she wanted to forget. She didn’t need to be reminded of more of her stupidity.
“And Carlos is going to meet us.”
Another pawn in her mother’s game. She was surprised it had taken this long for his name to be mentioned. Actually she was surprised that he hadn’t “popped” in—maybe her mother realized that would have blown her performance immediately.
“Mandy, he misses you,” Allison pouted.
“Come with us.”
Amanda’s gaze bounced from her mother to her friends.
Her lips pressed together. “I’ll call you guys later. My mother needs her rest.”
The women were disappointed. Amanda didn’t miss the fleeting glances they gave her mother, who sat up in bed propped against numerous pillows as if she was the Queen of England. More like a drama queen.
Amanda deflected the last of their halfhearted attempts on getting her to join them. In the end they reluctantly left disappointed.
When the room was quiet again, Amanda spun on Anne. She worked hard on keeping her voice calm and even. “Who called them?”
“I had Norman call the girls. I thought it would be nice for you to get together with your friends.” After a pause, “And Carlos.”
Amanda smoothed the comforter with her hand, then pulled it up to her mother’s waist and tucked it around her with exaggerated gentleness. She softly asked, “Mother, haven’t you meddled enough?”
“Mandy, you know I only want what’s best for you.”
Amanda unclenched her teeth enough to say, “You keep saying that, but do you really mean it?”
“Of course.”
Amanda walked over to the sideboard that held juice, clean glasses, and some vials of pills, staring at them sightlessly. “Is that why you are faking this illness?”
Her mother’s answer took too long. Way too long. “I’m not faking.”
Amanda leaned her head over to sniff the pitcher of juice. She picked up the cut crystal container and lifted it to her lips.
The burn of vodka ran down her throat and heated her belly.
“Hmm. Vodka and orange juice.” She put the pitcher down carefully and slowly turned to face her mother. “Is that what the doctor ordered?”
Her mother looked pale at last.
“Darling…”
“Damn you!�
� Amanda whirled on her heels, storming out of the room. The pictures in the hallway rattled from the slamming door.
She’d heard enough.
She’d had enough.
She ran into her stepfather at the top of the staircase.
“Were you part of this?” Amanda accused him.
“What?”
“Never mind!” She shoved past him, trying to control her anger. Amanda curled her fingers into a fist, trying desperately to keep herself from pushing Norman down the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
She gave a dry laugh. “For a walk before I throttle her.” She paused on the steps. “And you too.”
Then she ran down the stairs and out the front door.
* * * *
Max pulled up the freshly downloaded contacts on his new cell phone. Amanda’s name was at the top of the list. He highlighted the listing and pushed the Send button. He hadn’t even left the parking lot of the Verizon store. That’s how anxious he was to talk to her.
After the second ring, he thought that he would have to leave a voice mail. He really wanted to hear her voice.
But finally on the third ring she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello?” he echoed back. Amanda sounded odd.
“Who is this?”
“Max, who else? Are you okay?”
“Max? Oh.” The bitter tone was instantly recognizable. “You’re that cop, aren’t you?”
That cop.
Anne. Amanda’s mother.
Damn.
“Where’s Amanda? I want to talk to her.”
“She’s none of your concern. She’s busy.”
His fingers painfully squeezed the phone, and he blew out a deep breath. “Where is she? Why do you have her phone?”
“She’s none of your business.”
How many times had he heard that from Amanda herself? But everything was different now. Things had been going so well. Or so he thought. “Yes, she is.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She handed me her phone when she saw that it was you calling. She doesn’t want to see you anymore. She doesn’t want anything at all to do with you.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, she’s sitting right here. Amanda, do you want to talk to him?” There was a slight pause on the other end. “She’s saying no. She’s home to stay now. She’s where she belongs.”
Brothers in Blue: Max Page 19