Blake reached out and gently laid a hand on Cori’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s for the best.” At any other time, he’d be thrilled to hear the news, since it meant one more opening for him to convince Cori to stay.
“We’re almost through this now.” Blake hadn’t realized how hard it would be to acknowledge aloud that Sophia was dying. He’d known there was no hope for months now. Seeing death so near shouldn’t be so painful.
Cori’s fingers entwined tightly around his as if she’d never let him go. How he wished that were the case.
“I should have come home sooner.”
What could he say to that? There’d been many a night he’d wanted to call Cori. In his mind, he’d asked her to come home to him. Maybe if he’d swallowed his pride and done so, she would have. They could have made a family, maybe even had another baby.
“Why didn’t I come home sooner?”
That was the $64,000 question. She drew in a labored breath while he waited for her answer.
“I was too absorbed in doing what I thought was right. Maybe…maybe we were all wrong.”
She spoke with notes of sadness and wonder threading her voice. Blake longed to hold her in his arms and comfort her, but he sensed she needed to work through her thoughts first.
“She’s what I associate with home.” She sniffed. “I’m losing the cornerstone of my home. What am I going to do?”
“We’re all losing something, Cori.”
She tilted her head up to the ceiling.
“It’s not fair. We were just becoming friends.” She turned and flung herself up the stairs separating them and into his waiting arms.
If it hadn’t been such a gut-wrenching time, Blake’s heart might have soared. She’d turned to him several times in the past twenty-four hours in search of comfort. As it was, tears rolled down his own cheeks. His hands made comforting circles on her back while she poured her heart out onto his shoulder in quiet sobs.
“It’s not fair,” he agreed. “But you’ll get through it. We’ll all get through it.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot you lost your mother and father.” She pushed herself up and wiped her nose on a wadded-up tissue she’d been gripping in her palm. “I lived through her cancer once before. I watched her go from a gorgeous cover girl to someone who’d throw up at the smell of her own makeup. And her hair—” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “One day I found her on the bathroom floor crying with clumps of her beautiful black hair clutched in her fists. But no matter how weak she got that time, she fought back.”
“She’s got the Messina strength, that’s for sure.”
“Part of me believed this time would be the same. I thought she’d fight it. I thought she’d make it.” More sniffles. “And then when I realized she’d given up, I thought I was okay with that because she was still there, with me.”
“She’s not there now.”
“No.”
Blake drew her close again. After a heartbeat of hesitation, her body accepted the solace Blake offered. His own turmoil eased.
“It used to help me to think about how my mother would have wanted me to go on,” Blake said. “I know it’s tough now, but it’ll get easier. We’ve got each other, plus Jen, Luke, Mr. Messina and…Mike to think about.”
She backed out of his embrace and searched his features in the dim light, silently asking questions he tried just as wordlessly to answer. He didn’t want her to leave.
“That’s not his name,” she said finally, tentatively.
“I want to talk to you about that. Michael is a mouthful of a name to give a kid to use on a daily basis.” There. He’d all but said he wanted to be with them every day.
The door slid open above them, sending blinding sunlight from the hall window into Blake’s eyes. He squinted up toward the hallway, trying to force his eyes to adjust.
“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” Michael said, thumping down the stairs below Cori. He leaned closer to Cori’s face, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Have you been crying, Mommy?”
“Just a little, Pea—baby.”
Michael spun on Blake. “You made Mommy cry.” He slugged Blake on the thigh, but his stringy arms lacked any power. It was more a symbol of possession, of one male’s territory crossed by another. All the time they’d spent together and the tentative bonds they’d built walking the fields and kicking the soccer ball dissipated.
“Michael.”
Cori’s disbelief blew over Blake slowly, followed by the awareness that she wasn’t correcting Michael in any way.
Cori needed to discipline their son. Why didn’t she ever lay down the law? “We don’t hit,” Blake said angrily. “You know the rules. Time-out on the bed until you can say you’re sorry.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Michael’s little face contorted into a mask of rage. “Tell him, Mommy.”
In that moment, Blake understood that he threatened Michael.
“Michael,” Cori said again.
“He’s not going to be my daddy, Mommy. Not him.” He swung his head quickly from side to side.
“Michael.”
Blake heard what he took for fear in Cori’s voice. His gut tightened. “Afraid someone might hear him, Cori?”
“No, it’s rude.” But she didn’t look at Blake and her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Michael, apologize to Blake now.”
Blake wasn’t buying it. Neither was his son.
“No.” Michael crossed his arms over his little chest.
“That’s it.” Cori reached for Michael as she started to rise.
“No,” Michael wailed, stepping back. But he hadn’t considered that a step back was also a step down. He fell backward and down the stairs, tumbling and shrieking, tumbling and shrieking, until he stopped both.
Blake shot forward, while Cori screamed, frozen in place.
Please don’t let him be seriously hurt.
Blake reached the boy at the bottom of the stairs. Michael’s head had stopped on the last padded step before the kitchen’s marble floor began. His little legs were sprawled on the steps above. Blake noted Michael’s wide brown eyes, staring up at him seemingly in surprise, and the blessed fact that none of his bones stuck out at an odd angle.
“Are you all right?”
“Peanut, are you okay?” Cori stumbled down next to them and made to scoop Michael into her arms.
Blake held out his arm to stop her. “Don’t move him.” Just in case he had some kind of serious injury.
Michael started to cry. He got his elbows under his shoulders and lifted his head.
Blake sighed with relief at the sight. Cori gathered Michael into her arms.
“What’s going on down there?” Luke asked from above.
“Michael fell,” Cori called back. “He’s okay, aren’t you, baby?” Her arms cocooned Michael. Her cheek nestled against their son’s hair. Both faced away from Blake.
Michael continued to cry while Blake sat apart and alone.
“HE’S OKAY,” Blake told Cori half an hour later when they had returned to the pink room. “Aren’t you?”
Michael didn’t answer.
Discounting Blake’s assessment, Cori had called the boy’s pediatrician down in Los Angeles. Blake knew Michael was fine. The kid had a way of looking at him sideways that he would never have managed had he really been seriously injured. Yet Michael clung to Cori and whined often enough for her to continue to lavish her attention on him.
Blake was jealous. Of his own son and the attention Cori gave him. Of the way Michael and Cori could hug each other any time they wanted. Of the way Michael had bonded with Jen. Anger tingled in his veins. Anger at himself. At Cori. At everyone. Blake controlled his emotions no better than his four-year-old son did.
“Cori, I need to talk with you.”
She looked at Blake as if he’d asked her to dance naked in front of the workmen, then turned away as if he was just a field hand and not the father of her child. She and Michael were
on the floor watching television. The boy lay in the crook of her arm, snuggled against her.
It was easy to picture Blake lying on the other side of the boy, part of their family. Making that vision a reality was next to impossible. Yet, he had to try.
“I need to talk to you now,” Blake said.
“I’ll meet you later.”
Meaning, she may or may not come down to the river tonight.
“You’ll meet with me now.”
Cori looked up into his eyes and frowned. “Now?”
Rather than answer her, he walked out the door. Luke was down the hall and Blake didn’t want him to overhear what he had to say. Perhaps sensing the urgency of his request, Cori followed. He heard the light tread of her bare feet behind him. When he got down to the kitchen, Blake leaned against the sturdy oak table, watching her closely. Cori propped herself against the marble counter several feet away from him.
“I want to be a part of his life.” A part of your life, too, he silently added. He couldn’t risk saying that yet.
“I don’t know what you said to him to make him dislike you, but he’s not going to run into your arms if we tell him now.” She looked tired, still wearing the same clothes she’d worn to the hospital last night.
“I didn’t say anything to him. He’s jealous of me. I’m guessing he’s never had to share you before and he’s upset that you weren’t there with him this morning. He woke up crying for his mommy.” The words came out more bitterly than he would have liked, so he softened it with “I made him pancakes.”
“He’s normally a very loving child.” She couldn’t back up her words with eye contact.
He spread his arms. “Hey, everybody loves me.” Everyone except Cori. But Blake was going to change that just as soon as he fixed his relationship with his son. “Seriously, the kid needs a father.”
Her eyes dropped. “Los Angeles is a ten-hour drive from here.”
“Or a seventy-five-minute flight.” If he had his way, they’d all live here in Healdsburg. She’d work for the winery while raising their son.
“You can’t come.” Cori crossed her arms over her chest.
“Excuse me?” Thirty minutes ago, he’d almost had it all. Now she was rejecting him. He pushed away from the table. Blake had known this wasn’t going to be easy, but he hadn’t expected to be refused even minimal contact outright.
“I mean—” she pushed the hair off her forehead with a sigh “—my grandfather won’t like it if you take so much time off.”
“I don’t care what your grandfather likes.” He spoke carefully, trying to hold on to his temper and disguise his hurt, probably not doing a good job at either one.
Her eyes met his, then broke away again. “Yes, you do. This job is important to you.”
Sure, it was important, but his love for Michael and Cori was more so. “You’re saying no?”
“I’m not saying no.” She paused and looked into his eyes. They were dark and devoid of hope. They’d exchanged warmer glances on the stairs a half hour ago. “I’m just saying the timing isn’t right.”
“Like when you didn’t think it was the right time to tell me you were pregnant, so you didn’t tell me at all? Or the time you didn’t think it was the right time to tell me I was a father? Families don’t come with a timetable or wait for the right moment. What you’re saying is it’s not convenient for you.” His breath came fast and his temper spun nearly out of hand.
Her eyes looked stricken. “Yes,” she whispered.
The impossibility of the situation towered insurmountably over what little hope he had left. Cori wasn’t going to let him see his son. Not on alternate weekends. Not ever. Being with her was out of the question. Any chance he’d had of making a family with her was gone.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. He couldn’t take that. She played selfish games and she wanted his sympathy? He’d be damned if he’d give her any. He stomped toward the door, not trusting himself to speak.
“Wait.” She reached out a hand to him but only took a small step in his direction. They were yards apart, but they may just as well have been at opposite ends of the pole.
“This whole conversation came out wrong,” she said, brushing away tears. “What I’m trying to say is yes, he does need you. I just can’t wrap my mind around the logistics of it all right now.”
A small compromise, but one he was willing to accept. For now. Because believing her gave his foolish heart hope.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“MOMMY, THERE’S A stranger.” Michael said from his position on the window seat later that afternoon.
Dutifully, Cori walked over to the window to see. Michael often spotted workmen around the vineyard, so she was surprised to look down and see a teenage boy coming down the drive.
“Who is it?” Luke asked from the chair next to the bed.
“I don’t know. It’s a boy. Maybe it’s someone for Jennifer.”
“I’ll go see,” Luke offered.
“No, you stay,” Cori said. Sitting with her mother in her catatonic state, she’d had plenty of time to replay the horrible way she’d handled things downstairs with Blake. If he never spoke to her again, she wouldn’t blame him. Cori needed a distraction. Besides, Luke spent so little time with their mother, she wanted him to stay longer. “Come on, Michael.” She held out her hand, and together they walked carefully down the stairs to the front door.
They opened the door, clearly surprising the teen, who stood hesitantly on the bottom step. Definitely here to see Jennifer.
“Hello. May I help you?”
“Does Jennifer Austin live here?” His discomfort was palpable from the way he fidgeted.
Cori recognized him as one of the teens that had approached Jennifer on Sunday. She couldn’t sense any attitude in his nervous blue gaze and she approved of his short blond hair, although he could stand to lose the baggy shorts.
Cori made her decision. “Yes, she does. We’ll take you to her.”
He stepped forward just as she and Michael came out the front door and closed it behind them. The teen looked perplexed.
“She’s at the house around back.”
“Oh.” He blushed, big rosy splotches that highlighted what little acne he had on his face. He fell into step next to them. “You don’t have to take me, just point me in the right direction.”
Cori smiled. “It’s a little more complicated than that. By the way, I’m Cori and this is Michael.”
“Skyler.” His head bobbed a few times.
Intrigued by the teen’s name, Cori debated whether he had yuppie or hippie origins. The people of Sonoma County were known for their hippie roots. The yuppies had gravitated to Sonoma in the nineties. He seemed comfortable enough with people that he could have come from either type of family.
“What do your folks do?” Despite the tension between them, Cori was a little protective of Jennifer.
“My dad’s a lawyer for the Environmental Protection Agency and my mom makes arts and crafts.”
Hippie roots, for sure. They walked around the house and picked up the back road toward the river.
“Are you Jennifer’s mother?” He gave her a speculative glance.
Cori fluffed her hair. Did she look old enough to be a teenager’s mother? “No, but you’re lucky you asked me that question and not Jennifer. I’m…” Cori hesitated. She had been about to say “friend,” but that didn’t seem quite right. “…a family friend.”
“How old are you, Mike?”
Cori didn’t miss the fact that he shortened Michael’s name even while she was impressed he’d remembered it.
“Four.”
“My brother is four. You in preschool?”
Michael’s head wobbled up and down. “I go to Academy. We practice ABCs.”
“Cool. My brother goes to Toddler Town.”
Cori hoped Jen would go easy on this one. From what she could see, he was a keeper. They continued with an easy stream of small talk all the way to Jen
nifer’s house. Try as she might, Cori couldn’t stop looking for Blake’s dark head towering over the vines or his truck parked alongside the road. She dreaded seeing him again, to face his anger and iron out the details of his visitation rights. She wanted something else entirely, something out of her reach—a future with Blake. But they didn’t see a soul and her hopes were left hanging.
“Hey, you were right. I never would have found this place on my own,” Skyler said once they reached the house.
“I slept here. This morning,” Michael said, proudly puffing out his chest.
“Last night,” Cori corrected, wishing Blake could see their little man’s behavior now.
“Last night,” he repeated dutifully.
The trio stepped onto the front porch. Cori knocked. A few moments later they could hear the pounding of footsteps across the hardwood floor.
“Who is it?” Jen called out, irritation evident even through the door.
Cori and Skyler exchanged worried glances.
Jen flung the door open, then dropped her jaw when she saw Skyler. She wore a baggy, faded T-shirt that hung loosely over Winnie-the-Pooh boxer shorts.
“Aiyeeee!” She slammed the door in their faces and they could hear her footsteps pound away from the door.
Michael giggled, while Cori tried not to.
“I take it from her response that she didn’t know you were coming,” Cori said dryly.
Skyler looked apologetic. “She wasn’t at school today, so I took the bus over here. She’s been having a hard time lately.” He ran his hand over his short hair. “I was worried.”
“Someone we love is dying.” Cori held back the tears with a deep breath. “It’s hitting us all pretty hard.”
“Oh man. I’m sorry. I should go.” He stepped off the porch.
It was a shame, because Cori suspected he’d do Jennifer’s ego a world of good.
“Wait. Why don’t you and Michael play for a few minutes while I go talk to her?”
He looked back. “I don’t know. My grandfather died last year and I felt pretty weird for a long time.”
Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 23