Surrendered

by Jennifer Sienes

  “Watch it. That’s my daughter you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not talking about your daughter. I’m talking about my future wife. If she’ll have me after the stunt you pulled.”

  “I leave for six months and look at the mess I return to.”

  What are they arguing about? Light burns through the slits in my eyes. But I want to see the ghost. I need to see the ghost.

  “You have some nerve. You and your cockamamy ideas. I swear, Sean, if I didn’t owe you so much, I’d pop you one.”

  “Stop fighting.” The room comes into view. Two pair of eyes stare at me. One blue. One green. Katie’s eyes. Too close. Much, much too close.

  “Come on, Tess. Let’s get you up. Get her some water, will you?”

  Green Eyes leaves.

  A strong hand slips behind my back, and the room spins again as I’m pulled to my feet, then swept off them and into Jake’s arms.

  “We’ll get you to the couch.”

  As Jake sets me down, the ghost returns, glass in hand. But it’s not a ghost, is it? “Dad?” Impossible.

  “Tessie-Girl, I’m so sorry to scare you like that.” He sets the glass on the coffee table and wraps me in his arms. Old Spice and cherry tobacco. Has there ever been a headier aroma?

  But he’s dead. “What’s going on?” Does it matter? He’s here.

  Jake smooths my hair back, his touch tender and tentative. “I’ll leave you two alone.” A muscle in his jaw spasms, and his eyes don’t reach mine. Why’s he acting guilty? He crosses the dining room and disappears into the kitchen.

  The couch cushions shift as Dad sits next to me. “You look good, Tessie-Girl.”

  Tears clog my throat and nose as I shift into his arms. “So do you, for a dead man. Someone made a huge mistake. Oh Dad. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He hugs me tight, then eases away. “I need to explain.” He scratches a brow and shifts, his arm sliding along the back of the couch, fingers touching my shoulders.

  How is it even possible to explain reincarnation? Unless, of course, he’s Jesus, which he’s not. With trembling fingers, I touch his chin, the rough whiskers so real. “I should get Katie.” Is she strong enough for the shock?

  “Not yet.” His eyes plead with me. “Please.”

  “Okay.” A quiver dances in my stomach. Why…he looks…worried. “I’m listening.”

  He pushes off the couch and moves behind Mom’s wingback. Running a finger along the seam cord, he looks across the room at me. “It was a…ruse.”

  “Ruse? You mean like a prank?” The idea is too ludicrous to entertain, even for the moment it takes for him to respond.

  “Not a prank.” He scowls. “What d’you take me for? It goes much deeper.” He licks his lips and sets hangdog eyes on me. “I had no other choice, Tessie. I’d been wracking my brain for months. How many times did I try to get you out of that restaurant and back in school?”

  “What does this have to do with me? I don’t get it.”

  “You would have suffocated there, Tessie, stuck in that place. Don’t get me wrong. I love it. And so does Katie. But not you.” He waves a hand at me, grinning. “And look at you now! You’re going to be a teacher.”

  “What—I mean, how…” But wait. “The reports. Two Sisters.” Jake. How could I have been so blind? A pulse thrums at my temple—ka-boom, ka-boom. I press at the twitching near my eye. “The two of you were in on this together? You and Jake?”

  He puts his hands out, eyes widening. “No, no. It wasn’t like that.”

  I rise, heat burning a path up my neck, nails biting into my palms. “The two of you concocted this…this…cruel plan to get me back to school?”

  “Not the two of us, Tessie. Just me. Jake didn’t want to go along with it, but—”

  “But he did.” This is what he meant. This is what I wouldn’t understand. This is why I’d want to roast him alive.

  And he was right.

  “Jake loves you, Tessie.”

  Love? Love? “I suppose he included that in his reports!”

  “No. It’s why I came home early. The plan was for a year—”

  “A year? And where have you been? Not in Mexico, I presume.”

  He clears his throat. Jams his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Ireland.”

  Unbelieveable. “You’ve been off vacationing in Ireland while Katie and I have been grieving for you? Have you no idea what this has done to her? She’s been floundering, off with boys…” I throw my hands in the air. “How stupid of me. Of course, you know. Jake and his blasted reports.”

  He steps from behind the chair, hand out like he’s attempting to tame a wild animal. Well, good luck! “You can’t take this out on Jake, Tessie. I guilted him into it, and he’s the one who put a stop to it. He couldn’t lie to you anymore.”

  “Great.” The word comes out on a sob. I will not cry over this. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I look at the ground. “How magnanimous of him. He can’t bear to lie for more than six months.”

  “Hey, what’s all the yelling about?” Katie wanders into the dining room, rubbing her eyes. “If the two of you would just get married already…” She drops her hands and her eyes go wide. She squeezes them tight and opens them again. “Daddy!” Her screech is at a pitch only dogs can hear.

  Marriage? Not if he was the last man on earth.

  Chapter 43

  Tess

  Love stinks. The J. Geils Band didn’t need a psychology degree to come up with the lyrics for that song. Maybe I should write a sequel to it. I’d call it Dad Stinks.

  Julia, dressed in a Tweety Bird nightshirt and ratty robe, sets a cup of coffee in front of me. “I still can’t believe it. Alive.” She hmm, hmm, hmms and sits across from me. “And Jake’s known all along.”

  The blasted jack-o’-lantern pumpkin mocks me. I glare right back at it. What I’d like to do is smash the taunting little squash. Maybe that’d make me feel better. A night on Julia’s couch hasn’t lessened the urge to break something. Who says violence is never an answer? “I’ll never forgive him.”

  She swallows a mouthful of coffee. “Sean?”

  “And Jake. The deceitful, conniving—”

  “Audacious, sweet…”

  I growl at her. “I should have known you’d be on their side.”

  “Oh Tess.” She lets out a long sigh. “When will you learn that I’m always on your side.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it.” I miss my mouth with the coffee and it splatters on Betty Boop’s cleavage. The warm, wet liquid pools onto my skin beneath the borrowed nightshirt. Idiot. That’s what I am. How did I miss the signs? “The next time Dad dies, I’m going to insist on an open casket.”

  She giggles. “You have to admit, it was clever.”

  I slam the mug onto the table and coffee splashes over the edge. “Clever? Try cruel!”

  “Shh.” She glances out the kitchen. “You don’t want to wake Max yet.” She cocks her head as if aiming her mom-antenna, then let’s out a breath. “Now, where were we?”

  “I was expounding on my father’s misdirected notion that he’s God. You were defending him.”

  “Well, you’ve heard the saying desperate times call for desperate measures. Maybe he thought there was no other choice.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, Tess. I’m not kidding. What else could he have done to get you back to school?”

  “Grrr.” I unlock my jaw. “What is with you people and school? Is it so all-fired important that I finish my degree?”

  “Of course not. But seeing you fulfilled is. Can you honestly tell me hosting at your dad’s restaurant gave your life purpose?”

  The truth of it sticks in my throat. She’ll see right through it if I lie. “But such an elaborate conspiracy?”

  She runs a finger around the rim of her mug. “Not many fathers would go to such extremes. It just proves how much he loves you.”

  “Or it just proves how co
ntrolling he is.”

  “You’re impossible, Tess.” She pushes away from the table and stands. “Would you rather he really did die?”

  To even think it is abhorrent. “How can you even ask me something like that?”

  “So, cut him some slack.” Rounding the breakfast bar, she puts her mug in the sink. “And Jake, too.”

  “Jake doesn’t expect slack.”

  Fridge open, she glances at me. “What do you mean?”

  “He knew this would tear us apart.”

  Eyebrows arched, she closes the fridge empty-handed and schlepps to the counter. “I didn’t know you were together. When did this happen?”

  I push the mug away and plop my chin in my hands. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not together anymore.”

  “You mean because of this?” She tosses up a hand. “You’re going to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you over pride?”

  I shoot her a glare. “How can I trust him now?”

  “Really? Is that what this is all about, says the woman who hired an investigator?” She crosses her arms. “Or is it an excuse?”

  “An excuse? For what?”

  “You’re tough enough to stand up to a rapist, but too scared to take a chance on love.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Grinding my teeth, I stare her down.

  She doesn’t budge. “Well, if you don’t want Jake, can I have him?” She wriggles her eyebrows.

  “You’re impossible.” I cover my lips. All bets are off if she makes me laugh.

  * * *

  I’d like to hide out at Julia’s indefinitely, but with next quarter’s lesson plans due on Monday and a paper due on Tuesday, it’s not an option. Besides, I’ve learned the hard way that ignoring an issue isn’t actually a solution. In fact, I might go so far as to say that it snowballs into a bigger issue—one that’s much tougher to juggle.

  The house is quiet when I sneak in the front door. I’m sure Dad and Katie were up all night reconnecting—a real father/daughter heart-to-heart. Did she consider, even for a moment, that what he did was wrong? Did she not remember the pain and grief of losing the only parent she’s ever really known? What am I thinking? Of course not. Katie’s never been one to hold a grudge—just like Dad.

  One foot inside my bedroom and I stop. Is that garlic I smell? And basil? Hmm. There’s no way Katie’s up yet, and I’ve never known Jake to cook breakfast with garlic and basil, so that leaves—

  “You’ve decided not to run away from home after all.”

  Hand to chest, I whirl to face Dad, who stands in the dining room wiping his hands on a dish towel, another tucked into his pants like an apron. “Run away?” I shake my head. “You talk like I’m five.”

  He nods. “Understandable mistake since you’ve been acting like it.”

  Heat steals up my neck. “That’s hardly fair, considering your blatant disregard or consideration for anyone’s feelings but your own.”

  “Come into the kitchen and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He tilts his head, eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t a request.”

  Of all the nerve. “If you think—”

  “Watch your tone, child. I’m still your father.” The words are delivered with no heat, which makes them all the harder to ignore.

  “Yes, sir.” I follow him into the kitchen. Nothing more embarrassing than being reprimanded like a rebellious teen.

  There’s a pot of sauce cooking on the stove top, a bowl of grated mozzarella on the counter, and manicotti shells lined up in a baking dish.

  “Mom’s stuffed manicotti?”

  “I’ve missed it. Ireland’s more of a meat-and-potatoes kind of place.” He steps up to the stove and stirs the sauce.

  I lean my backside against the sink and cross my arms. “Why Ireland?”

  He shrugs and throws me a grin over his shoulder. “Why not? It’s where my roots are.”

  I drop my gaze to the floor. “I mean, why’d you do it, Dad? Let us believe you were dead?”

  “I already told you.”

  “Who else knew? Maris? Byron Reynolds?”

  “Well, I had to confide in Byron. I didn’t want any legal issues to come of it, did I?”

  “And Maris?” I look at him.

  He shakes his head. “Only Jake and Byron.”

  “Are you aware we thought she was embezzling money?”

  “Maris was only doing what I’d asked. That soup kitchen was to be an anonymous donation.”

  “So why not run it through proper channels?”

  He scowls. “Then it wouldn’t be anonymous, would it?”

  “Nor do you get a tax deduction.”

  “Didn’t want a deduction. It’s between God and me.”

  Will I ever, in this lifetime, understand him? “Do you think God would have been okay with us firing Maris? Because that almost happened, Dad. You can’t go around playing with other people’s lives.”

  “So you’ve said, darling.”

  “And your heart attack? Did you really have one?”

  “My heart’s as healthy as can be.” Big surprise.

  “Jake said he met you at the hospital in San Francisco.”

  He focuses on the sauce. “I went down to the Bay Area for prostate treatment. Didn’t want to worry you girls.”

  “Didn’t want to worry us?” I want to tear out my hair. “You faked your death, Dad. You don’t think that caused some needless worry?”

  He drops the spoon into the pot with a sigh. “I’m not sorry I did it, either.” He waves a hand at me. “Look at you, child. On your way to being a teacher, and in love to boot.”

  I snort. “In love? What good does that do me if I can’t trust him?”

  “Oh Tessie.” He sets sorrowful eyes on me. “That’s not a problem born with Jake, my girl. You’ve been fighting that ghost a long time.”

  “What’re you talking about?” A lump lodges in my throat, as if my subconscious already knows.

  “Why didn’t you come to me when that monster attacked you?”

  I turn to the sink and fumble for a paper towel. Better that he can’t see my face.

  “You didn’t trust your mother or me with the truth. Why?”

  I drop my head and let my hair form a shield over my eyes. He sounds so hurt, but that was never my intention. “I…I couldn’t, Dad.” Tears course down my cheeks and I swipe the towel at them before wiping my nose. “I was so ashamed.”

  His hands clamp on my shoulders. “You did nothing wrong, Tessie. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do now.”

  He turns me and pulls me into his arms. “Your mother and I could have helped you through it and made sure he paid for what he did to you.”

  “I know, Dad.” And I did. His strong arms around me bring back so many memories. How could I question his love for me? His methods, yes. His love—never. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in the cherry tobacco scent.

  “I love you, child. I know you feel what I did was wrong. And I’m sorry as I can be that you were hurt. But I can’t be sorry I did it. You’ve come so far over the last several months. No more spinning your wheels and playing it safe.”

  “Are you sure there wasn’t an easier way?”

  “What do you think?”

  I might forgive him, but I draw the line at telling him he was right. “You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do. We held a funeral service and everything.”

  “Well, I should hope so.”

  Laughter bubbles up and I push him away from me. “You’re incorrigible.”

  His eyes soften. “And you’re beautiful. Just imagine what a stunning bride you’ll be.”

  I raise my hands. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not going to manipulate me into marrying Jake. There’s only so much you can control, Daddy.”

  He grins. “Maybe. But ultimately, it’s not
me who’s in charge, now, is it?”

  Chapter 44

  Jake

  I make a point of being here in the kitchen when Tess comes in this morning—after all, she can avoid me for only so long—but she looks right through me. Not an easy feat when she had to all but bodily move me from in front of the sink. Maybe I’m prejudiced, but from my perspective—as the designated invisible man—Tess is the Queen of Cold. Not a word. Not a look. Not even a glance. Don’t know whether to be impressed or irritated.

  Thought the message at church yesterday might have penetrated that stubborn head of hers—forgiveness and reconciliation. The Holy Spirit working through Kent on my behalf. But no change. Just a continuation of the weekend-long cold front.

  Now I’m reduced to standing in the corner—well, the breakfast nook—like a kid in time out. “You’re being juvenile, you know.” Charm hasn’t worked. Maybe if I tick her off… “You can’t ignore me forever. And I’m not going away.”

  Her nose is so high in the air as she reaches around me for a napkin, it’s a wonder she doesn’t fall backwards.

  “I know I said it was your choice, but I thought we could at least talk it through.”

  She reaches past me again and retrieves the Curious George lunchbox I left on the table.

  Knew she couldn’t be completely immune. I made it special today—pastrami on rye with my secret sauce, two homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a cream soda. Do I know how to work her or what?

  With the handle pinched between two fingers, she marches up to the garbage can—she wouldn’t dare—rocks her foot onto the lid pedal—she’s just messing with me—and drops it in with a sniff. The lid shuts with a clang, and she makes a show of dusting off her hands. Of all the immature, ungrateful, spoiled…

  And out she goes. God help her students today!

  Why do I even bother? It’s not like life with her will be peaceful. It’d be one battle of wills after another. Who needs it?

  Sean appears from the dining room and heads for the coffee pot. His fading carrot hair’s sticking up in back. The couch left its mark. “If you don’t mind my saying, you’re going about this all wrong.” Is that a smirk on his face?