She gave the ball a vigorous shake. “Will Mami and Papa like Ryan?”
It is certain.
From over her shoulder, Ryan gleaned the answer. “There, you see? Everything is fine.” He returned the toy to the car.
The succulent fragrance of roasting chicken provided a savory greeting. The music from her father’s favorite easy-listening station lent the house an air of tranquility. He came out of the kitchen with the tufts of his salt-and-pepper hair dancing as he walked.
“Ryan! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Beaming goodwill, Marco clasped Ryan’s hand. Winking at Cat, he added, “I hope my daughter didn’t promise one of my Mexican specialties. Silvia got it in her head to make chicken and mashed potatoes in case your mother doesn’t like spicy foods.”
Ryan’s poise nearly fled. “Mr. Mendoza, I’m sorry to inform you—”
“Relax, son. Ruth filled us in twenty minutes before Cat did. I’m looking forward to meeting Julia whenever she’s available.”
The gracious response knocked Ryan back a step. Appreciation eased across his features. “Thank you, sir.”
“Sir. What sir? Call me Marco.” Drawing them into an affectionate circle, he lowered his voice. “It’s just the four of us tonight. Frances planned to join us, but she changed her mind. Your mother came back from her house furious—you know how they get.”
Ryan appeared stricken. “They were arguing over my mother?”
“Son, they’re still arguing over Frances’s dead cat. There’s no telling what’s got my wife lit like a Roman candle. If she and Frances couldn’t find areas of difference, they’d invent them. I have no idea what type of glue keeps their friendship together. I can tell you this. It’s flammable.”
The subject was quickly dismissed. Silvia came into the foyer in an uncharacteristically subdued beige dress, her ebony locks swept into a chignon. The quintessential hostess, she hid whatever emotions churned inside behind carefully composed features.
Her hand lifted to accept Ryan’s in greeting. Unaccountably she paused before their fingers touched.
Her attention leapt to his face. With a nearly impolite thoroughness, she scrutinized every inch, from his forehead to his chin. Throwing off the reaction, she shook his hand.
Cat inhaled a sharp breath. Thankfully the bewildering response went unnoticed by the men. They all shared a few words before Marco led Ryan off to the living room.
She followed her mother back to the kitchen. “What’s with the strange look you gave Ryan?” The timer dinged, and she went to the stove. “I’ll get it.”
She lifted the heavy pan from the oven. Behind her, Silvia fiddled with the chunky gold necklace at her throat.
Cat snatched up potholders, then removed the roaster’s lid. “Where’s Frances?” Without the Sirens’ most gracious member, the night ahead was sure to contain more awkward exchanges. “You aren’t fighting with her, are you?”
“Not today.”
“What did you do wrong to upset her? She was looking forward to dinner with us.”
“Wrong? What wrong? I went over to pull her back together.”
At the strain in her mother’s voice, Cat paused in her search for tongs to lift the chicken out. “Papa said you were furious when you got back.”
“I’m still mad.” Disgust thinned her mouth. Smoothing away the reaction, she added, “A headache from Frances’s past is back again. Don’t ask for details.”
“Fine, I won’t.” Cat found the tongs hidden under a cookbook. Concentrating on the task, she set the chicken on the cutting board. “Will you at least explain the weird look you gave Ryan? He didn’t catch it, but I sure felt stupid. You were gaping at him.”
“He has beautiful eyes.”
“They’re unusual—not a fleck of gold, or brown.”
“Rare to meet anyone with pure-green eyes.”
“I guess.” A peculiar sensation rippled down her spine. Turning, she discovered her mother slumped in a chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Today I met a girl with eyes the same color.”
The conversation’s odd turn was perplexing. She’d arrived for dinner expecting an argument about their missing guest, conducted in lowered voices with Ryan safely out of earshot—not her mother acting dazed. “Who is she?”
“A student at Kent State. She drove down to get the lay of the land. Believe it or not, she parked in the middle of the street to practice yoga on the hood of her car.”
“You’re kidding. Where?”
“In front of Frances’s house.”
“You’re telling me this girl has eyes like Ryan’s?”
“And honey-gold hair. Her features are a lot like Ryan’s.”
“Weird.”
“Frances asked her in for tea. Her name is Gemma Mills.” Slowly Silvia shook her head as if waking from a long nap. “Talk about a strange day. Two odd visits in a matter of hours—I don’t like the feeling I can’t prepare for whatever is coming next.”
“There’s nothing coming, aside from a concert that’ll fill the town with tourists.” She didn’t like where this was headed, didn’t like her mother’s vacant expression. “What are you trying to tell me?”
The air between them thickened. Cat felt the pressure on her shoulders. Then the burden, an uncomfortable weight, found her heart.
“Do you want to know why Gemma was in Sweet Lake today?” her mother asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“She needed to practice.”
“For what?”
“A first meeting. On Saturday, when your Cleveland band performs on the beach, she’s coming back to find her older brother. Her half brother—he doesn’t know he has a sister. They have the same father.”
The implication was too outlandish for serious consideration. With jerky movements, Cat transferred the chicken to the waiting platter. The potatoes, already mashed, sat beneath plastic wrap on the counter. Tearing off the plastic, she put the bowl in the microwave.
Her mother’s fingers came to rest on her shoulder. Slipping out from beneath the gentle touch, she began carving the chicken in large, unattractive chunks.
“Mi florecita, you must listen.”
At the softly issued plea, Cat set the platter aside. In turmoil, she leaned heavily against the counter.
“I didn’t understand why this girl seemed familiar. Why would I? When you and Ryan traipsed out of the forest last weekend, I saw him only briefly.” She took Cat’s hands firmly, steadied her with the power of her affection. “And then I understood when he walked in tonight.”
“Understood what?”
“Remember what you told me? ‘Don’t ask about Ryan’s family.’ There’s something broken in his life. You don’t wish for your Mami to examine the pieces. You don’t want her to see what has shattered, though you’re willing to walk across this brokenness as if your feet are bare and your eyes closed. Don’t you see the risk of injury to yourself?”
“I don’t want to be hurt.” She hesitated. “I don’t want Ryan hurt either.”
“To fully love him, you must accept everything he is, not simply the pieces of his heart he’s willing to show you. You must love the whole man.”
“He’s not broken.”
“Stop evading me, child. There’s something wrong here. Tell me what it is.”
Vacillating, Cat perked her ears. The mingling of masculine voices in the living room were far removed from the harsh secrets bearing down on the kitchen.
“His mother is the one who’s broken,” she said in a rush. “She cut her family off years ago—Ryan’s not even sure when his grandparents died. He has no idea where they lived, doesn’t have the smallest details about his extended family. He was a toddler the last time his mother saw anyone in her family.”
“Why would Julia D’Angelo cut her son off from his entire family?” Contempt iced the query. “If a mother severs those ties, she uproots her child. She destroys the connections that allow him to flourish in h
is world.”
Silvia’s reaction spoke to the unwavering devotion that guided her life. There was nothing more important than family, a lesson that had always blanketed Cat in love. The conviction also spoke to Cat’s private reservations: How was she supposed to build a solid foundation with Ryan, given all the questions surrounding his past?
In whispered breaths, she gave a short account of his abusive childhood, and the beatings Julia had suffered at the hands of her husband. Cat nearly added a mention of the tokens Ryan found in the velvet pouch, a discovery she’d shared only with Linnie and Jada.
The idea was dismissed as Silvia listed sideways.
“Mami, are you all right?” She clasped her mother’s shoulders. The revelations were clearly too much for her, especially the mention of physical abuse. “Let me help you sit down.” She started toward the table.
Her father came into the kitchen. “Ladies, can you catch up on gossip later? The men are hungry.” Marco appraised his wife. “Silvia, what is it? You don’t look right.”
Remarkably she spiced her voice with mock impatience. “Just a little indigestion.” Brushing Cat aside, she finished carving the chicken. “I’ll take an antacid before we eat.”
Satisfied with the explanation, Marco said, “You two have made up?”
Cat pinched his cheek. “Yes, Papa. We have.”
“If your mother is mending fences, have her call Frances after dinner. Whatever she’s done, make her apologize.”
Silvia nudged him toward the door. “Pour the wine. Dinner is in ten.”
“Hurry up. No one likes cold mashed potatoes.”
The moment he left, Silvia drew her back to the stove. Lowering her voice, she said, “You must take the upper hand in this matter.” She smoothed the hair from Cat’s brow. “The band you hired, they arrive tomorrow?”
“They’re coming in early for two days of practice in the ballroom. They were awfully rowdy last weekend. I’ll spend most of tomorrow and Friday keeping an eye on them.” A distinct inconvenience, given the other prep work for the concert.
“Have Ryan handle your adolescent musicians. Ruth mentioned she plans to take Julia for another walk tomorrow.”
“They’ve struck up a real friendship.”
Her mother grew thoughtful. “Frances and I were wondering why, of all the Sirens, Ruth chose to give kindness in secret. Did you fill her in about Ryan’s violent father?”
“Of course not.”
“Doesn’t matter. Ruth has an instinct about these things. Before she took the dispatcher post with our PD, she worked at a facility in Columbus for battered women. She taught lessons in self-defense, helped with counseling—she became a perfect marksman during her stint at the facility. To this day, she can hit a bull’s-eye from quite a distance. I’ve seen her do it.”
“Ruth worked in Columbus?” She’d been a fixture in Sweet Lake since Cat’s childhood. Imagining her living anywhere else was nearly impossible. “I assumed she grew up in Sweet Lake.”
“She’s originally from Columbus. She took the job at the women’s shelter when she was barely in her twenties. She signed up for the marksmanship class less than a year after taking the job. One of the abusive husbands tracked his wife to the facility and stormed inside. It took five women to restrain him, including Ruth. She lost a tooth during the scuffle. Bought her first pistol the following week.”
The explanation sent a shiver through Cat. It took five women to restrain one man?
From the dining room, her father shouted, “Wine’s poured!”
Her mother shouted a reply.
Drawing Cat near, she said, “I pity Julia for everything she’s suffered, but this is about Ryan. After she gets back from her walk with Ruth, talk to her. It’s unconscionable how she’s kept Ryan hidden from his family. If young Gemma Mills from Kent State is his sister, they deserve to have a relationship.” Eyes blazing, she added, “Don’t leave Julia until you get answers.”
For the first time since August, the inn was free of the racket from pneumatic nail guns and the whirring of table saws.
At noon on Thursday, Linnie had sent the construction workers away in anticipation of the busy weekend. Everyone on staff was putting in long hours, from the kitchen staff preparing to serve triple the usual number of guests, to the housekeeping staff hurrying from one room to the next, readying the inn for full occupancy. Like Jada and Linnie, Cat split her time between normal management duties and helping the staff wherever needed.
With the inn at high gear, finding an opportunity to speak with Julia alone was gratifyingly easy. In the early afternoon, Ruth escorted her back to the inn after their stroll on the beach. Ryan was in Linnie’s office discussing options for upcoming concerts next spring. After he finished, he planned to watch Midnight Boyz practice in the ballroom.
Steeling herself for a difficult conversation, Cat went upstairs balancing a tray of Earl Grey tea and a plate of Jada’s delectable brownies. She rapped lightly on the door.
Ryan’s mother surveyed the silver tray. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight.”
“I thought you might like an afternoon snack.”
“I am rather hungry. Ruth took me on a long walk. We covered two miles of the north shore.” Frowning, she noticed the second cup. Clearly she wasn’t expecting Cat to join her.
Two upholstered chairs were grouped before the bay window. Cat placed the tray on the round table nestled between them. “Mind if we talk?” Boldly she sat down.
Confusion tripped across Julia’s face. “You seem upset.” She remained rooted by the door, clearly unwilling to join Cat.
“I suppose I am. Not about last night; my parents hope to meet you soon. If not during this visit, maybe the next time you’re in Sweet Lake.”
“Please thank them for their understanding. Perhaps they’ll come with you to visit us in Cincinnati.” She hesitated. “What is bothering you?”
Cat’s bravado nearly fled. “I need some answers about your life,” she managed.
“About my past?”
She grappled for a reasonable tone. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“Hasn’t my son told you the basics? I don’t like to discuss those years.”
The tightly issued remark, meant to close down the conversation, sent Cat’s thoughts to Ryan. He’d been deprived of his family. The love she felt, and the strong, irrepressible desire to fight for him, made her press on.
“What you do or don’t like to discuss no longer matters,” she replied impatiently. “Yesterday a young woman from Kent State came to Sweet Lake for what’s essentially a practice run. Gemma Mills is driving back down on Saturday to look for her half brother. They’ve never met.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“They have the same father. I don’t have all the specifics. My mother met Gemma.” Cat paused for a perilous beat. “She’s convinced Ryan is Gemma’s brother.”
The pronouncement chilled the air between them. Then a derisive laugh escaped Julia. “Your mother is making quite a leap, isn’t she?”
“Those unusual green eyes helped her make that leap.”
The disclosure battered Julia’s thinly held composure. “She has eyes like Ryan’s?”
“An exact match.”
The revelation punctured her resistance. “George’s eyes,” she murmured. “I’m sure my son has mentioned how much he takes after his father. Practically twins.”
“After your divorce, did your ex-husband take up with another woman?”
“I have no idea.”
“Gemma was raised here in Ohio. She’s nineteen—eleven years younger than Ryan.”
“Then she was born the year after I left George in Salt Lake. It’s certainly possible he had a relationship with another woman.” Troubled, Julia studied the floor. “Have you mentioned this to Ryan?”
“It seemed wise to speak with you first.” There was something tragic about the
sense of capitulation bowing Julia’s spine. “You keep a lot hidden, maybe out of a need to protect him. Maybe you have other reasons for hiding so much. Whatever the reasons, I do need answers.”
“About what, exactly?” She came across the room and sat.
She appeared incapable of withstanding a journey into the past. Yet remarkedly she found a reserve of composure. With stiff movements, she took a cup of tea.
With growing anxiety, Cat took her own mug. Since there was no simple way to begin, a direct course seemed best. “When you arrived Sunday night, you seemed familiar with the inn. You walked straight to the south wing’s stairwell like you’d memorized the route. Guests never come up here. The stairwell is practically hidden.”
“I am familiar with the Wayfair. I came quite often before Ryan was born. Twice when he was a baby. He doesn’t remember.”
The admission snatched the breath from Cat’s lips. She’d expected a flurry of denials, with every one of her claims challenged. What she hadn’t anticipated was this ready confession. She was still scrambling for a response when Julia spoke again.
“My son sees me as a victim. I imagine you have the same impression.” Self-disgust strengthened her voice. “The truth is more complicated.”
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. The day when George injured you and Ryan near the forest, or Twin Falls—”
With a dismissive hand, Julia cut short the defense. “Ryan deserved love and safety, not a home wrecked by violence. No child should live in the sort of world we made for him.”
With weary acceptance, Julia stared into her tea. “Ryan is the victim—not me. I got exactly what I bargained for in a husband.”
Chapter 20
A shudder went through Julia at the confession’s brutal honesty.
“I was so different from my family,” she said, drawing deeper into her story. “Their priorities were always in the right place. They were loyal to each other, proud of our roots in the Buckeye State. None of them could imagine living anywhere but here—not my parents or my sisters.”
The Comfort of Secrets Page 22