“Sure.” Luke shrugged, giving Blake another strange once-over. “She used to do them all the time. People love her.”
Blake felt Luke put a little too much emphasis on the word love. However, Luke didn’t say anything else. In the meantime, Mr. Messina scowled and shook his head.
“How about I see what time Pete wants to get up in the morning and I’ll call you,” Luke offered. “We’ll do it together.”
“Fine.” Only, Blake was feeling anything but fine.
CORI WAITED IMPATIENTLY for Luke in Mama’s shadowy bedroom. She’d heard the limo pulling up and then muffled masculine voices outside. After what seemed like hours, the front door downstairs had opened and closed, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Cori stepped out into the hall, relieved to see it was Luke and not her grandfather.
“Where’s Grandfather?” Cori didn’t want to be interrupted when she asked Luke to help her find their father.
“Downstairs in his office. He doesn’t usually come upstairs right away.”
“Mama wants to find John Sinclair.” Wasting no time, Cori quickly recounted what she knew of their parents’ ill-fated marriage. “Should we hire a private detective?”
“Without more to go on, like a social security number, it’ll take a while.” Luke shook his head, a grim expression on his face. “She doesn’t have that long.”
Cori didn’t want to bicker over the proximity of Mama’s fate. “We need to do something.”
“Ask Grandpa. He’ll know where John Sinclair is, or at least how to find him.”
“Can you ask him?” Cori dreaded the thought of having to ask her grandfather for anything. Despite wanting to create a stronger relationship with her family, Cori didn’t know where to begin with her grandfather. She’d been avoiding him these past few days, eating dinner early in the kitchen with Michael and making herself scarce when she thought he might visit Mama.
Luke glanced downstairs, then looked at Cori. He shook his head.
“Why not?” Luke was the logical one to do the asking. He was obviously in her grandfather’s good graces.
“He knows I’m buying some property.” Luke looked a little shamefaced. “He’s going to go on forever, and I need something of my own.”
Cori’s jaw dropped. “You’re starting your own winery?”
Luke removed his cuff links with precise movements, his eyes darting down the staircase. “You had the right idea years ago. He won’t let me make even the smallest decision on my own.” He rolled the black onyx studs like dice in his hands before looking at her again. “I’m thirty years old and he still treats me like I’m twelve. I want to make wines my way. I need to prove to myself that I know what I’m doing.”
Cori couldn’t believe it. Leaving the family fold voluntarily was far worse than being cast out. Her grandfather would consider Luke’s starting his own winery the ultimate betrayal. But she understood her brother’s need to prove himself, and how that need could eat away at you.
“He’ll never forgive you.” She spoke from experience.
“Yes.” Luke’s expression was grim. “So you see, if you need to find John Sinclair, it’s up to you to ask Grandpop.”
VOICES FROM DOWNSTAIRS announced visitors. Cori stepped out of her mother’s room and into the hallway. She wasn’t familiar with the woman talking to Maria at the bottom of the stairs, but she knew immediately by the black bag she carried that the woman was a nurse.
Apprehension knotted Cori’s stomach. It wasn’t that the nurse intimidated Cori. It was that the nurse held answers Cori would rather not have. She looked friendly, with laugh lines creasing her face, soft blue eyes and long black hair streaked with gray. She introduced herself to Cori simply as Nellie from Hospice and proceeded to give Mama a brisk exam, asking her about the effectiveness of her pain medication.
Mama’s answers were curt. Her eyes shuttered away from Cori. Suddenly, Cori wanted answers.
After the exam, Nellie didn’t comment, but patted Mama’s arm and bid her farewell. After a moment’s hesitation, Cori followed Nellie downstairs, feeling Mama’s eyes upon her.
“Corinne, can you get me some water?” Mama called after Cori, a note of desperation coloring her words. It was clear Mama didn’t want Cori talking with the hospice nurse.
“In a minute.” Cori wouldn’t be put off anymore. She needed to know the truth about her mother’s condition, even if she didn’t want to hear it.
“Please.” Cori caught up to the nurse in the foyer. “How is she? Really?”
Nellie turned, both hands clasped over the handle of her bag. She assessed Cori clinically. Cori recalled a similar look, almost, but not quite, pitying, when her doctor had told her she was pregnant.
“Her system is beginning to shut down. It won’t be long now.” Nellie spoke without emotion.
Cori had noticed her mother’s skin had lost more elasticity just since she’d arrived. Sophia’s stomach was swelling and her complexion was turning yellow, but Cori hadn’t wanted to believe this was the end.
“When?” Cori managed to choke out.
“That I can’t say. The body can hold on a long time with a willing spirit.” Nellie reached out to briefly clasp Cori’s cold hand. “Sophia’s in a lot of pain, but she hasn’t given up yet.”
“She’s waiting for something,” Cori whispered half to herself.
“Perhaps,” Nellie allowed, tilting her head to one side as she considered Cori’s words. “Or perhaps she’s holding on because you’re here. In either case, get her to drink as much as you can, even if it’s only a few drops sponged on her lips. But don’t force her. Nothing will make much difference now. It’s all up to her.”
I have to talk to Grandfather.
CORI SAT UP GROGGILY in bed. Shadows hung like shrouds about the room. She peered through the darkened bedroom toward Michael’s sleeping bag, wondering what had awakened her. She could just make out Michael’s small form sprawled on top of his bag and hear his steady breathing.
A muffled male voice carried down the hall.
Cori bolted out of bed, tugging her sleep shirt down over her hips. She ran to her mother’s room. Her hand wrapped around Mama’s door handle, but someone spoke again and Cori hesitated.
“John, you’ve changed your hair.” Sophia laughed. “Why would you dye your hair?”
“It’s me. Lucas.”
Cori opened the door. Luke stood next to Sophia’s bed in his sweats and a T-shirt, his face drawn and unsmiling.
“I don’t know any Lucas.” Sophia eyes crumpled in confusion. She turned her head to look at Cori. “Do I?”
“Mama?” Cori gripped the doorknob, unsure of anything.
“I don’t know either of you.” Sophia’s eyes began darting around the room. “Where am I? Who are you?”
“Mama…” Cori couldn’t keep a matching note of hysteria out of her voice.
“Don’t say anything to upset her,” Luke warned, his eyes on Mama. “You’re home.”
“It’s me, Mama. Corinne.” Cori stepped forward.
“What’s going on here?” Her grandfather paused in the doorway, dressed in a blue silk robe and pajamas.
“Papa?” Mama whispered fearfully.
“Yes, cara?” Cori’s grandfather moved with measured steps across the room, pushing past Luke and blocking Cori’s view of Mama.
“Who are these people? What are they doing here?”
Salvatore looked sharply at Luke. “Get out.”
In two strides, Luke grabbed Cori by the elbow and swung her out the door, closing it behind them. They stood frozen in place, both trying to decipher her grandfather’s soothing words. Cori could hear only the gentle timbre of his voice.
Hugging herself, Cori stepped back. “What’s happening?”
Luke’s eyes were still fixed on the door. After a moment, his gaze dropped to the floor. Then he smiled ruefully. “I can’t remember the last time you and I were both barefoot.” He rolled his head aro
und with a sigh. “She’s just a little lost. It happens every once in a while when she gets tired.”
“She didn’t know me.” Cori shivered.
Luke leaned against the wall, looking weary. “No.”
How could he be so calm? She rubbed her arms. “My own mother didn’t know me.”
“She didn’t know me, either,” Luke said softly.
“I didn’t mean to sound like a selfish heel.” Her brother had been hurt, too, and it sounded like he’d been through this before. How many times would Cori have to go through this?
Perhaps sensing Cori needed reassurance, Luke gripped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “She might recognize you in the morning.”
If Luke’s words were meant to calm her, they had the opposite effect. “Might?” These past few days had been bad. If her mother didn’t recognize her, Cori didn’t think she’d be able to hold herself together. What if Mama didn’t remember Michael? How would Cori explain that to him?
“The closer we come to the end, the less lucid she’ll become.”
“We are not near the end.” Cori hadn’t even asked her Grandfather about finding her father.
Luke stared at Cori in disbelief.
“I have to find John Sinclair first. I promised her.” Cori couldn’t hold Luke’s gaze. She strained to hear what was going on in the other room, but there was no sound.
The grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs chimed the half hour.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Time for you to realize you may not be able to provide her with a fairy-tale ending. You think John Sinclair is waiting to hear from us? No way. There’s a reason he doesn’t keep in touch. And I, for one, don’t want to know what that reason is.” Luke didn’t pause long enough for Cori to defend herself. “This isn’t some carefree visit. She’s given you a couple of good days. Things are only going to get worse. The last thing we need is for you to delude yourself about what’s happening here.”
Cori shook her head, unwilling to believe her mother’s mind wouldn’t clear. “She’s strong. She’ll hold on until I find John.”
“She’s dying. She won’t wait for you or anyone.” Luke’s eyes burned black in the dim hallway, his expression staunchly grim.
“Stop it!” She knew Mama was dying. Did he have to throw it in her face? “You say that and yet you go about your work and the social rounds, anyway? How can you?”
“Do you think it’s easy? That Grandpop and I are heartless?” Tears glistened in his eyes. “She wants us to go on because she knows the situation we’re in. We need every contact, every sale and every promotional opportunity. Grandpop’s invested so much internationally that we’re short on cash flow. Not that he’ll pull back and listen to reason. This is another bumper crop year, which is going to drive down prices for the second year in a row, which means fewer profits—again.” He rubbed his eyes and then pulled the grim expression back in place. “So how exactly did you want me to behave?”
She saw their predicament clearly now—follow your heart and stand vigil at Sophia’s bedside or attempt to save your life’s work. Had Mama been faced with the same choices when her mother was dying and John Sinclair gave his ultimatum?
Cori sighed. “And you’re leaving him.” Poor Grandfather. “Your timing sucks.”
“Hey, don’t judge me. I’ll work both places as much as I can.” He swallowed. “Or as much as he’ll let me. We both know this is his show. But when Mama’s gone, I’ll have nothing to keep me here.” Luke stared down at her, his eyes shining with regret. “And neither will you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SATURDAY DAWNED with a bleak sky that matched the frost of disappointment wrapped around Blake’s heart. The detour Sophia had made from reality seemed more permanent this morning than during any of her previous episodes. To protect his daughter’s peace of mind, Salvatore Messina had banned everyone but himself from Sophia’s bedroom.
Since hearing the news, Jen had sulked over her homework at the kitchen table, limiting her communication with Blake to monosyllables.
Unable to shake the feeling that the end was near, Blake drove down by the river and parked, watching the water flow dispassionately past, while the sky filled with clouds to bursting. Some storms swelled the river from a lazy waterway to a powerful torrent, until the banks couldn’t contain it in places. Blake had seen other properties flooded with brown murky water. Although it hadn’t happened to the Messinas yet, just the thought that it might happen troubled Blake.
Usually, time down by the river cleared his head. Not today. Blake had more than enough to think about.
He’d never made his peace with Sophia. He regretted that immensely. And he couldn’t seem to shake his ambivalent feelings toward his son. Could he learn to love the boy? If he did, he didn’t think he could keep it a secret, as he’d done with his feelings for Cori. His honor demanded he tell Mr. Messina. Soon.
Blake was considering wading into the river and dunking his head in the hopes he’d find some clarity, when Cori and Michael appeared on the road that paralleled the river. From where he’d parked behind a large clump of blackberry bushes, Blake could just see them through a hole in the bushes, rounding the bend and coming closer. They each wore clear plastic rain slickers.
Unexpected yearning coiled in Blake’s heart as he watched Cori run her hand over his son’s hair. The murmur of voices drifted closer, unable to clearly penetrate the truck’s insulation. Blake cracked open his window.
“No worms,” the boy commented with a frown, crouching down to examine the dirt beneath a grapevine with a crumple of his dry slicker. His slicker was large, coming down to his knees, with sleeves cuffed several times.
“Not until it rains, Peanut.” Cori’s soft endearment carried her affection for her son.
Pit, pat. Pit, pat. Large, fat drops came down slowly, landing on leaves, dirt, the two of them, and Blake’s windshield. Pit, pat.
The boy giggled, then began twirling about with his arms flung wide and his tongue stuck out to catch the rain as it gained momentum. Blake closed his eyes against a wave of isolation. Mr. Messina wasn’t the kind to abide those who broke his trust. Admitting Blake had fathered Cori’s child would shatter that trust. Sophia would die, Cori would tell Mr. Messina about Michael, and Blake would lose this place he’d grown to think of as home. Then Cori would return to Los Angeles and he’d never know the boy she claimed was his son.
And he was curious about that boy. Cautious, but curious.
The kid stopped spinning and staggered dizzily until Cori grasped his arm just in time to save him from plopping his bottom onto the soft, wet earth. Cori laughed and hugged him tight before pulling him behind the bushes and out of sight. Blake’s heart was tight with yearning. He longed to experience that closeness with his son, to see the boy’s face light up with laughter and love when he looked at Blake, to be able to hug his son.
“Wait until you see the river in the rain, Michael. It’s awesome.”
Unable to resist, Blake stepped out of the truck and into the now-steady rain. The only protection he had against the shower was a beat-up baseball cap and a red flannel shirt over his black T-shirt. He hadn’t anticipated being in the rain, but the thick canopy next to the river sheltered him.
Blake found them perched beneath a spreading oak tree, sitting on a gnarled top root. They watched the rain bounce across the river.
Cori leaned her shoulder into the kid’s, just one more act of love Blake couldn’t indulge in. “Didn’t I tell you it was awesome, Peanut?”
The boy nodded reverently, craning his neck to look down river. “Where are the boats?”
“No boats when it rains,” Blake said from the other side of the tree.
Cori nearly jumped out of her skin. She recognized him, then turned crisply away, obviously still smarting from the harsh words he’d tossed at her lately.
Too damn bad. He wasn’t the one who’d lied all these years. He turned his gaze c
ompletely on his son. The kid regarded Blake just as carefully.
“Do you like the rain?” he asked the boy.
Michael nodded cautiously. His previous experiences with Blake hadn’t been easy ones. Perhaps sensing Blake’s need to make contact with him, Michael added, “I like the water. I’m a good swimmer.”
The tightness in Blake’s chest eased.
Cori shook her head.
Michael noticed and frowned at his mother. “I can swim.”
“You sink,” Cori said, softening the words with a smile.
“I don’t sink!”
She laughed, the tender sound tingling through Blake’s veins.
“I mean, you haven’t learned to swim across the pool yet, Peanut.”
The warmth of their conversation crept into Blake’s heart, easing the loneliness. It was almost as if they were including him in their intimacy. A trio, not a pair.
“This summer. Miss Wendy is teaching me.” The kid spun around to face Blake squarely. “Can you teach me swimming? Grandma has a pool.”
Blake’s throat worked. He’d loved teaching Jen the basics of swimming, fishing and playing catch. Would he have that chance with his son?
“Michael, I’ve told you that pool is too cold and we didn’t bring a suit.” Cori’s words were firm.
“I can teach you someday,” Blake offered.
“Today?” Michael smiled brightly, hope bubbling in his brown eyes.
Blake shook his head. “Not today.”
“Never,” Michael huffed and turned back to the river. So young, yet he already seemed able to identify pipe-dream promises made by adults.
“We need a sunny day.” With effort, Blake transformed his voice into a pitch that might interest a small child. “A warm sunny day when the wind doesn’t prickle your skin.”
Both Cori and Michael swiveled around to look at him. Cori seemed just as mesmerized by Blake’s tone as Michael was.
“That day, you know, before last night. It was sunny,” Michael said.
“Yesterday was sunny.” Blake nodded, completely in sync with his son. “But it was brrr chilly without a sweatshirt, wasn’t it?” Blake rubbed his arms for effect.
Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 14