Yetta nodded. “Yes. You’re a fine man, an honorable man. You grew up safe and loved. Not that you wouldn’t have known acceptance and a sense of family with us, but Jurek gave you an opportunity most people never have. He gave you two worlds. What you do with that is entirely up to you.”
She rose and picked up the tray. “I need to call the hospital and check on Grace. I’ll be outside for a few minutes.”
Nick watched her leave with a sense of panic. He was alone again with a man he’d spent most of his life hating. He’d constructed elaborate fantasies about what he’d tell his birth father if their paths ever crossed.
But the man sitting in the cheap recliner didn’t fit the image Nick had of a self-centered, low-life egoist who couldn’t be bothered to raise the kid he’d fathered. This man, George, or Jurek, as Yetta called him, was old, withered, yet too proud to show that he was in pain.
“Do you prefer I call you George or Jurek?”
“George. Only Yetta calls me Jurek. When I first came to America, I found the name sounded too much like jerk to gain me any respect. George was on every dollar bill. I thought that would be a good omen.”
Nick smiled for the first time since entering the small, tidy residence. He hadn’t had any idea what to expect, but a white crushed-rock yard with two pink flamingos wasn’t even close. Nor was the aluminum foil that covered the window near the door. An energy-saving technique, Yetta had whispered under her breath while they’d waited for permission to enter.
“Nice place you’ve got here, George. Have you lived here long?” he asked, hoping small talk could take the place of the important questions he was afraid to ask.
“Ten years. Before that, I traveled around a bit. California, Arizona, New Mexico.”
“Warm states.”
George nodded. “I had enough of the cold when I was a boy.”
“Is it true about the concentration camp?”
George nodded.
“Which one?”
“Sobibor.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It wasn’t famous.”
Nick wondered if he would have survived if he’d been the one taken from his family and subjected to torture and abuse.
“The answer is yes.”
“I beg your pardon?” Nick said.
“You’re asking yourself if you would have been a survivor, and the answer is yes.”
“How do you know?”
George smiled. “You survived being separated from the safety of the only family you ever knew. You survived losing your mother at a very young age. You survived moving from California to Michigan. That alone takes a very strong person.”
The last was said with a wink, and Nick laughed. He decided he might have liked this man if things had been different. “I’m not complaining about my life. My adoptive parents have been good to me. I don’t have any regrets.”
“I’ve kept tabs on them…and you over the years. I knew when I asked Pete and Sharon to take you that they’d give you a better life than I could.”
“Because you were an ex-con?” Nick nearly choked on the word.
“Because my heart was gone. Your mother was the only light I’d ever known, although I’ve always felt a special connection to Yetta. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to look at her without remembering that awful day when she was a baby.”
“The fire. She told me.”
“Did she tell you that one of her sisters died? That the other was disfigured for life, and that Yetta’s own health was never the same? All because of me.”
“She said it was an accident.”
“There are no accidents. There are only choices. Take your eye off two happy, laughing children to look at your cousin’s puppy and people die. Get off a bus and get hit by a car.”
Nick had no idea what to say so he said nothing. A moment later, George shook his head as if coming back to the present. “We all make choices. I gave you to the Lightners because I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining another life.”
Nick felt as though a weight were pressing on his chest. This was his chance to tell the old man off. I was your responsibility, you bastard. I was your flesh and blood and you gave me away without a second thought. But now he knew that wasn’t true. George’s choice hadn’t been random or frivolous.
He leaned forward and locked his hands together. “I spent a lot of time being pissed off at you. I still don’t understand why you never contacted me when you knew where I was. But I don’t hate you.”
George’s eyes didn’t reveal much, but he nodded and said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Suddenly, Nick needed to talk to Grace. To get her take on what just happened. To hold her. “We should probably be going,” he said, standing up. “Will you be okay here alone? Yetta was talking about your moving into Claude’s house for a while. Maybe you should consider it.”
George shook his head. “My doctor’s not done poking around inside of me. I swear he’s the great-grandson of that bastard in Sobibor. Never happy if they aren’t experimenting.” He made it sound like a joke.
Nick smiled, but he was worried, too. Despite his cavalier attitude, George didn’t look well. Impulsively, he leaned down and gave his birth father a hug. “Listen, I have to get back to my job. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet, okay? There’s a lot I don’t know about you and my mother. I’d like to talk again.”
“Anytime,” George said, his voice thick with emotion.
Nick walked to the door. “I’ll call you from Detroit.”
His father lifted his chin proudly and gave a curt nod. Nick knew the gesture well—it was one of his.
Chapter 22
Grace was dreaming. A dream she’d had before. A favorite of hers…because he was in it.
In the past, he’d been faceless. Just a body. Hands, lips, a touch that made her dizzy.
“I missed you,” she said, as she always did when he returned to her dreams.
“I’m glad.”
They were walking along the ridge of a hiking trail in Red Rocks. She loved the dramatic vistas, the shadows cast by the rugged terrain. She relished the feel of the fierce wind that seemed to say, “If you stand in one place too long, I’ll reshape you, as well.”
“That’s a very self-centered attitude,” she said, dropping his hand crossly. “If you loved me as much as you claim, you wouldn’t leave me.”
Nick/Nikolai/the man in her dream shrugged as if her complaint meant little. “But, Grace, it’s always safer to leave than to be left.”
She heard raw pain in his voice and knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her. For a moment, she saw the child that he’d been, hiding in fear that the Gypsies might appear in the night and take him away. She touched his arm. “But life doesn’t come with guarantees and when you find someone who loves you—someone who is willing to overlook the fact that you’re just a little bit crazy—you hold on to them for as long as the good Lord lets you.”
“I wish I could do that, Grace. But…”
She watched in horror as he stepped back into thin air. He looked down, as if suddenly realizing his mistake, but it was too late to change his mind. His arms reached for her just as he disappeared from sight.
“No…” With a cry, she peered over the edge of the precipice. His body was sprawled far below. Blood seeping into the pale sandstone.
“Nikolai, come back. This is only a dream. It doesn’t have to be this way. I promise. Come back.”
But he didn’t move. Maybe he didn’t know it was a dream. Or, God forbid, maybe it wasn’t.
“She had a pretty rough night,” the nurse who’d accompanied Nick to the door of Grace’s room said.
It was early, not quite five. He was wiped out—he’d only grabbed a couple of hours of fitful sleep after returning from Laughlin, but he figured he could nap on the plane. The only flight with a spare seat was leaving in an hour and a half. He had a cab waiting for him downstairs. Liz had offered to dr
ive him to the airport, but he’d wanted to make a clean break.
Which didn’t explain what he was doing here.
“We gave her something for the pain at three. She’ll probably sleep for another couple of hours.”
“That’s good.” The sudden let down of relief made him feel like a heel. “I just wanted to check on her. She’s going to be okay, right? No infection?”
“So far, her temperature has remained the same. I think she’ll be fine.”
He thanked her, then slipped into the room and walked to the bed closest to the door. The woman in the bed next to Grace’s was snoring loudly. Assured of relative privacy, Nick took Grace’s hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a coward for leaving like this, but I don’t know how to handle messy goodbyes.”
He kissed her knuckles. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you. Every day. Probably for the rest of my life.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. You and me. We have a connection. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt, but our worlds are just too different.”
And your family comes first in your life. He knew that now and could respect it even if he didn’t truly understand it. His father’s people were pretty special. Strong. Resilient. For the first time in his life, he was proud to be part Romani, but that didn’t change anything. He still had to leave and he never expected to return—despite Yetta’s prediction.
“We lost you once, Nikolai Sarna, and we’re not going to lose you again,” she’d said to him last night. “Mark my words.”
He’d hugged her at the gate and joked about her putting some Gypsy spell on him. Maybe she had. Or was the magic all Grace’s?
“The way I see it, Grace,” he continued. “You’ve got Romantique, I’ve got my job. You and Kate are an awesome team. And I don’t know if I told you, but I’m up for my dad’s job. If I get it, there’s no way I can transfer to Vegas. It seems the cards are stacked against us, kiddo.” Plus it would probably kill me if you chose Vegas over me. “So, I’m doing the noble thing.”
He snickered softly. Noble. Not cowardly. Yeah, right.
When the pressure against his sinuses made him squint, he bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her mouth didn’t respond, but her breath was warm and sweet.
“I love you, Grace.”
Then he left, without looking back.
Chapter 23
Grace stabbed the hard soil at the base of the rosebush with her hand trowel. In the two weeks since being shot, life had spiraled downward with a speed that left her reeling.
For the first time in her life, she felt alone. Desperately alone.
Not literally, of course. She hadn’t had a moment of privacy since being released from the hospital. Her sisters had done their best to keep her distracted so she wouldn’t slip into a deep depression over the fact that the man she loved didn’t love her.
After all, he’d disappeared into the great void of Michigan while she’d been flat on her back in the hospital.
“Completely unheroic,” Alexa had decreed.
“Definitely not a true prince,” Liz had concurred.
“Another damn frog,” Kate had muttered.
Grace had agreed—for the brief period when she was totally furious. But then she remembered her dream. The look of devastation on Nikolai’s face as he fell. The regret.
A part of her knew that he was as unhappy about the way things had turned out as she was, but she couldn’t forgive him. He hadn’t even stuck around long enough for them to talk. Her ego felt as tender as the area around her gunshot wound. All she wanted to do was stay in bed and sulk.
Unfortunately, her recuperation/period-of-mourning had been cut short when a complaint of E. coli contamination made health department inspectors pounce on Romantique. Yellow caution tape blocked the doors. People in lab coats took swabs from every surface in the restaurant’s kitchen and destroyed all the meat in the freezer. Damage control had turned into a full-time job for Grace.
Of course everyone knew who was to blame for the vicious, untrue allegation—Charles.
Grace blamed herself. And her father.
She hadn’t been to visit her father’s grave since the day of the shooting. And the plants had suffered. All the beautiful blossoms were gone. Brown spots had attacked the leaves.
“Mom’s in Laughlin, you know,” she said, carefully raking the dead foliage into a pile. “She’s decided George will never get back on his feet unless he moves into Claude’s house where she can bully him.”
Grace’s first thought after hearing this plan had been purely selfish. Maybe if Nikolai’s birth father lives next door, I’ll get to see his son again someday.
She pounded a brittle lump of dirt. “He hasn’t even called to see if I’m alive. He showed up, wreaked havoc, then left. I hate him.”
The sound of her father’s laugh mingled with the traffic noise behind her. Oh, princess, you’re well now. What are you waiting for? Go after him.
“Leave Vegas?” She rocked back on her haunches and stared at the headstone. Leave my family? My business? My life?
“I…I can’t do that. I belong here.”
Or do I?
Just that morning, Kate had pounded on Grace’s desk and shouted, “Snap out of it, Grace. We’re going to lose this place if you don’t help me figure out a way to stop Charles from sabotaging our reputation. Don’t you care if we go bankrupt?”
At the time, Grace’s first thought had been, no, she didn’t care about Romantique or any of the other problems that had recently cropped up. Liz’s joblessness and the glitch at the bank that showed her several months behind in mortgage payments. Or the rumor that was circulating about one of Alexa’s aides. A totally false and potentially damaging allegation.
Grace didn’t care because she felt numb.
Just like your mother felt after I died.
Grace started as if poked in the side with a stick. Her wound didn’t appreciate the movement. Her conscience didn’t like hearing a truth she hadn’t wanted to admit. Was she avoiding life the same way her mother had after Kingston had passed away?
Grace opened the box of plant fertilizer she’d brought and sprinkled it on the soil, then grabbed her water bottle and unscrewed the cap. “Our world is falling apart, Dad, and all I can do is sit around feeling sorry for myself because Nikolai hasn’t bothered to call. Pathetic, huh?”
“Awful.”
Startled by the deep voice that came from behind her, Grace spun around. She had to grab the headstone to keep from falling. “Zeke,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“Sorry. I called out your name, but you were talking to someone.” He looked around. “A ghost?”
“Just talking to myself. Cheaper than therapy, although I’m sure most people would say it’s not as effective.”
Beneath her fingers she felt the silver dollar recessed in the marble—a 1933 Walking Liberty. Her thumb circled the coin, as if reading the raised image. Walking Liberty. Was it a sign?
Zeke’s normally severe expression softened. “I got your message. ‘The snake still slithers.’ Very cryptic.”
After Kate’s temper tantrum, Grace had called Zeke to see if he was aware of her family’s sudden bout of bad luck. Since she knew her mother had used a reptilian reference to describe Charles, she figured Zeke would understand.
“Have a seat.” She pointed to the plastic bucket. She spread the now-empty fertilizer bag at the base of the headstone and sat down, her back resting against the engraved marble.
“Your dad?” Zeke asked. “He must have been quite a man. I’m sorry I never met him.”
“He was a great guy. Not perfect, but we all miss him a lot. Mom, especially, although I think she’s finally moved beyond the worst of her grief.”
He didn’t comment. Grace had sensed something between the tall, thin cop and her mother, but had never stopped to contemplate it.
“Okay. Here’s what I think,” she sai
d. “Charles is out on bail and he has an ax to grind. Given his contacts, how tough would it have been for him to bribe someone to fake an E. coli scare at Romantique? The word alone would send customers running, even if there wasn’t a trace of contamination on the premises.”
Zeke nodded.
“We know he’s the reason Liz lost her job, but it just occurred to me that he might be the reason she hasn’t been hired someplace else.”
“Blackballed?”
“Possibly. Plus, someone’s tampered with her credit history. She could lose her house.”
He pulled out a small notepad and jotted something down.
“And yesterday, one of the mothers at Alexa’s preschool claimed someone called to warn her that one of Alexa’s aides was a convicted child molester. The caller wouldn’t give his name. Naturally the charge is bogus.”
Zeke made a few notes then he looked at her. “You think like a cop. I’m not surprised Nick fell for you.”
Her heart squeezed at the mention of Nikolai’s name, but pride made her lift her chin. “A person who’s fallen for someone doesn’t generally skip town without saying goodbye.”
Zeke made an offhand gesture. “Most of the guys I know would rather take a bullet than watch someone they care about get hurt.” He nodded at her side. “I know Nick was proud of you because he told me so.”
His praise felt good, but it would have been better coming from Nikolai. “Would it have killed him to stick around until I woke up?”
“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know what the big deal is. There are outbound flights to Detroit every day. I haven’t noticed your name on any of the manifests.”
Grace started to list all the reasons she couldn’t leave, but suddenly felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. We’re Romani, Grace. We share the load so one person doesn’t get stuck carrying too much.
But my sisters need me.
She must have spoken aloud because Zeke said, “Nick’s not the kind of guy to admit he needs someone in his life. I know because I was the same way. Cost me a wife and kids.”
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