When Truth Takes Flight

by Sandra McGregor

  “Would you excuse me for a few minutes? I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  “Sure, sure. Straight through that doorway, down the hall, last door on the right.”

  She barely glanced at the hallway except to notice creamed-colored wallpaper with tiny sprigs of baby-blue flowers.

  Once the bathroom door closed behind her, Hannah leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. I’ll get through this. I will get through this.

  After another minute, she pushed away and moved to the sink, lifting her gaze to stare into the mirror. She blinked, shocked at the sunken eyes and bloodless face staring back.

  Deep breaths. In, one-two-three. Out, one-two-three.

  “I can do this,” she whispered to her reflection as all she had learned whirled in her brain.

  What if her mother had stayed? Her childhood would have been spent in this house, surrounded by men with guns always ready to defend the family. And then there was her father—the don. He looked ordinary, yet if what she’d read about the mafia was correct, he routinely broke the law and ordered people killed. What child wants someone like that for a father? What if he were arrested and sent to prison, or gunned down in the street and immortalized on the front page of every newspaper in the country?

  She shook her head. As a child, she would have had no choice, but as an adult, she refused to be part of her father’s life—and she would never allow her children to be around their grandfather. This visit answered a few questions and fulfilled an obligation, but was the first time—and last—she’d ever step foot in Vince Giovanni’s home.

  Her head throbbed. After running cool water over a wash rag, she patted her face, then lifted her mass of hair and ran the rag around the back of her neck, allowing it to cool her skin and settle her nerves. If she could just have a few more minutes to herself, she’d be fine. With the rag still around her neck, she sank down on the edge of the claw-foot tub and closed her eyes. Just a minute or two. That’s all she needed.

  ****

  The moment Hannah was out of sight, Vince turned to face him. “So, Johnny, I never thought you’d betray me.” With a deep sigh, he settled back into the chair.

  John swallowed once, knowing the confrontation wouldn’t go well. He’d seen Vince use this tactic before. It would start with heaping on guilt and then move on to accusations.

  Almost without conscious thought, he straightened his spine and faced the don’s barely veiled anger. The man’s two beefy fists rested on either side of the plate, as if poised to react if the discussion didn’t go to his liking. Although he’d never agreed to that part of the man’s requests, his silence had been taken for assent. There probably wasn’t an acceptable excuse for going against the don’s order of secrecy, but then, he didn’t work for Vince and wasn’t bound by such orders.

  “Your demand to never tell Hannah about you put me in a position of having to lie to her, and—”

  “How is it lying if you keep your mouth shut and don’t tell her anything?” The man now scowled, his anger threatening to boil over.

  Thinking only of Hannah, John lifted his chin a fraction and narrowed his eyes as he faced down the older man. “Her mother—Sadie—lied to her all her life by telling her about a father who died a hero. I knew the truth, yet when she first told me about this factitious man, I kept my mouth shut out of loyalty to you. That’s called lying by omission. Your term, Vince.” His own anger dripped like venom as he spat out the last words. Vince wasn’t stupid. If one of his men failed to tell him of impending danger, the don would see that omission as lying. A lie was a lie, however you cut the pie.

  “That doesn’t change the fact you let me down, boy.” His palm pressed flat against his chest. “I took you in and gave you so much when you were a kid. I love you, and then you go and break trust. You weren’t loyal to me.” His fist came down on the table hard enough to make the dishes bounce. “You owed me that.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but in reality, I was very loyal—to myself, and the woman I’ve come to care about.” With narrowed eyes, his glare bore into those of his opponent, meeting the challenge and standing firm, for Hannah’s sake. His lips mashed together and his breathing came rapid and shallow, but he forced himself to continue. “What you gave me while I was growing up was attention, not love. Love doesn’t demand anything in return.” He took the napkin from his lap and laid it beside his plate. “I learned that from your daughter.”

  “Why did you bring her here?”

  “Because Hannah is your daughter—your blood.” He shoved back his chair. “Do you honestly think I could have dragged her here if she didn’t want to come?”

  A pregnant pause settled between them.

  “Is something going on between you and my girl? I see how you look at her.”

  He swallowed, sighed. Same battle, just attacking from another angle. Was he going to play the concerned father now and demand he be asked for her hand in marriage or something?

  “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I’m in love with Hannah, so don’t expect me to ever report to you about her. I intend to ask her to marry me in a quiet ceremony in California, and then we’ll live there without interference, and where I will take care of her.”

  The frown was instant. “Are you saying you plan to marry my daughter and expect me to stay out of her life and never see her again? I’ve always planned to throw Hannah a big Italian wedding and, like tradition, give her and her husband their first home and car.”

  “First, her husband won’t be just any Joe Blow, it’ll be me.” At least he prayed she’d let it be him. “And I don’t need you to give us a house and car. I can take care of us. You haven’t had her in your life for the first twenty-three years, so I think she and I deserve the next twenty-three to ourselves. And as to you never seeing her, that will be solely up to her. If she wants to see you every so often—fine. However,” he stated, pausing for effect, “if she chooses to never see you again, I will support her decision.”

  The older face turned a ruddy hue and his eyes narrowed, but when the man’s lips disappeared into a straight line and he lowered his chin without breaking eye contact, John knew the don was furious. There could easily be trouble—lethal trouble.

  Wary of the man’s temper, he forced his facial expression neutral, maintained eye contact, and waited—just like Vince had taught him. He had drawn a line in the sand by declaring his loyalty to Hannah, and now it was up to her father what the next move would be.

  The don’s voice had deepened, his words slow and precise. “You’re saying her papa can’t walk her down the aisle?”

  “What I’m saying, Vince, is that it’s Hannah’s decision. But how safe would she be if you announce to the world that she’s your daughter? Isn’t that what this charade has been about for all these years?”

  He slapped a palm over his heart, dropping back in his chair as if stricken. “Johnny, you break my heart. After what I’ve done for you, and now you want to kick me out of my daughter’s life just when I finally get to meet her?” He shook his head. “No little grandbabies to bounce on my knee,” he added, his voice gruff and slow.

  John didn’t relax his posture. The benevolent father and grandfather comments could easily be a ruse to get his guard down. This meeting was important, and there wasn’t room for misunderstands. He knew how the man worked. At the first sign of weakness, he’d pounce, and John wanted to avoid that situation at all cost.

  “Vince, you made some choices a long time ago—even in your teens—that have caused some long-term ripples in the water. Unfortunately, we all have to live with the consequences of all our decisions.” He of all people understood that now.

  The don’s face relaxed as he apparently pondered what had been said. His gaze dropped to his plate and remained for several moments before raising. “Johnny, you’re a good boy. You’ve done your mama proud.”

  It hurt to watch Vince have to admit, even if only to himself, that he had made mistakes with his daugh
ter and would now have to pay a high price for those decision. The older man scratched his cheek, then sighed, nodding slightly as if having come to a decision.

  “Johnny Boy, you’ve grown up a lot, and I’m proud of you. It comes as a bit of a surprise about you and my girl, but I think I’m okay with your plans. I actually hope you two do get married—she could do a whole lot worse.”

  The don’s approval was appreciated, even if the comment about Hannah doing “a whole lot worse” was a little backhanded and humorous, but he kept his expression neutral.

  “So, with that in mind, there’s something you need to know about.” He settled back in the chair before he continued. “When I found out where Sadie had moved, I set up a blind corporation to buy the boardinghouse and had her name put on as co-owner. Sadie never knew because my accountant got all the paperwork, but at least she’d have something if anything happened to me. Then I saw to it she became manager. After Sadie died, I made sure things were legal for Hannah to own the building outright, with my accountant in a Trustee capacity.”

  John was stunned. “You’re saying Hannah already owns the boardinghouse and just doesn’t know it?”

  Vince nodded. “Yes. The rents she collects each month go into a savings account that has been growing ever since I bought the property. She’s quite a wealthy woman.”

  John was speechless. His assumption that Vince owned it was totally wrong. How would Hannah feel about her father giving her a home and a business all rolled up in one? If she no longer wanted to live there, she’d probably be able to sell the building and live wherever she wanted…but that was a decision for another time.

  Vince was silent, drinking his tea, apparently finished with his revelation.

  The future was truly now in Hannah’s hands, starting with whether or not she’d allow her father in her life. Of course, that also included her answer to John’s own plan of asking her to marry him. He had no way of knowing what her answer would be. For all he knew, she wouldn’t be able to forgive and forget his part in keeping the truth from her, even though for only a few months, and after the meeting today…

  He glanced up when she walked back into the room and quietly returned to her chair.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a slight upset stomach.”

  There was no missing her pale face and hesitant movements. She truly didn’t feel well.

  He stood. “Then why don’t we get going? There’s a schedule to keep. We don’t want to miss our plane.”

  She glanced from him to her father and then back again. “Fine.”

  Vince frowned, but stood and walked to the door beside his daughter.

  Once there, Hannah hesitated, then turned toward her father. “Thank you for allowing me to meet you.”

  “Same here. It was good to see you in person instead of a picture every few years. They don’t do you justice,” he added. “You’re a beautiful young woman, and I’m proud of you. Your mama did a good job.” He raised a hand, as if to touch her, then halted the movement in midair when she lifted her chin an inch and visibly leaned away. He allowed his arm to relax back to his side. “I wish you the best.”

  She nodded, then gave John a tentative smile when he placed an arm around her shoulders.

  “Take care, Vince.”

  “Take care of my bambino, Johnny. There ain’t nowhere in the world you can hide if…”

  “Yeah, I know,” he interrupted. “Good-bye.”

  John wondered if his suggestion for this little family reunion had been such a good idea. Would Vince force his way into their lives in the future?

  He heaved a deep sigh as the driver got out to open the rear door and assist Hannah into the backseat. One way or the other, Vince would sleep in the bed he’d made for himself.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After being dropped off at the hotel, John guided Hannah just inside the door, hesitating until the sedan drove away before turning to link their hands. “Look, I knew we’d both be emotionally and physically exhausted after the flight and the meeting today, so I arranged for two rooms. Our plane leaves first thing tomorrow morning.

  She sagged against him. “Thank you.”

  He smiled and turned to lead her toward the counter in the lobby.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes. Two rooms for John Staples.”

  After following the bellboy up the elevator to the fifth floor, he slipped a tip into the young man’s hand and thanked him. He then followed Hannah into her room, smiling at the sight of her standing in the middle, slowly turning in a circle with her mouth hanging open and her wide-eyed stare taking in all the details.

  “I never imagined a room as nice as this,” she whispered, slipping off her hat and tossing it on the bed before turning to look at John. An excited laugh slipped out. “I can’t believe I get to stay here tonight.”

  He watched her hair flare out as she twirled in a circle to take in her surroundings and ached to run his fingers through the silken length. But he held back, unsure how she’d react. Just seeing her joy was worth spending a week’s salary for the rooms.

  “It’s like a dream.” She turned to point upward. “I mean, look at the designs on the ceiling and the chandelier. And the Queen Ann sofa, bed, and desk. And the gold brocade bedspread,” she continued, running a hand across the textured material draped over the foot of the bed. “It’s straight out of a Paramount movie set. Beautiful. Thank you. I was dreading the thought of boarding a plane again right away.”

  “I knew we’d need time to relax and rest.” Everything from her drooping shoulders to her fidgeting hands told him she needed something to hold on to. “Come here,” he coaxed, taking her hand and leading her a step closer until he held her within his arms. “I’m sorry. Vince cares, believe me, but he doesn’t know what to do, what to say, to a grown daughter.” He rubbed his cheek against her silky hair, breathing in the essence that would always be his Hannah.

  Unintelligible words were mumbled against his shirt.

  “What’d you say?”

  She turned her head a fraction. “He’s not my father.”

  “But honey…”

  “Oh, I know.” She stepped back, bringing a tear-filled gaze up to connect with his. “I mean, I can’t accept that cold, heartless man as my father. I now understand why my mother lied to me.”

  “She tried to protect you.”

  Hannah nodded. “And you were right. If the truth had to come out, I’m glad it happened before his enemies killed him.”

  He frowned, opened his mouth, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  “Meeting him has made it easy to walk away. If I’d never met him and then found out the truth when he was no longer alive, I’d always have wondered.”

  “Walking away is your choice, but…are you doing it out of spite?”

  Her forehead creased with concentration. “No. I’d say I’m more resigned to not having a father in my life. It’s like you once said about having nothing to lose by asking for something. I grew up always wishing I had a dad like everyone else. In spite of having a mom, there was a piece missing—like the future was a dark tunnel without a light at the end. There was a void, a hole with nothing to fill it because he was dead.” She glanced out the large window overlooking the city, taking a few moments before continuing. “Now, I know that was all lies, and I’ve met my father. But to expect a man like Vince to fill that void is like grasping in the dark for something that isn’t there. I grew up wanting love—you know, warmth and security—but the man is cold. Impersonal.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, meeting his gaze with her normal poise and calm that always impressed him. “I’ll admit that finding out my father was alive knocked me off my feet, but I had a choice to make, and I made it. I came, I saw. Now I know. It’s enough.”

  “Enough?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, I’ll admit to a couple sleepless nights, but then once I met him, I came to realize nothing had really
changed. I grew up fine without a father, and I’ll continue on without one. I’ve lost nothing.”

  “You don’t plan to see Vince again?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no need.”

  Her smile was weak and slow in taking hold, but he admired her handling of a difficult situation. He hadn’t missed her red-rimmed eyes when she returned to Vince’s table. The ordeal had been an emotional roller-coaster, but she was dealing with it far better than he expected.

  “Do you think you can ever forgive Vince for not being in your life when you needed him the most?”

  The shrug barely moved her shoulders. “I’ll eventually forgive him for everything, like I’ve already forgiven my mother. I can see why she didn’t want me growing up and being associated in any way with that lifestyle. If I were a mother—and someday I hope to be—I’d feel the same about my children. He can follow them from a distance like he did me—I can’t stop him—but I won’t allow him to be involved in their lives.”

  She was a truly remarkable woman. “I understand. And thank you for being kind to Vince while you were there.”

  “I don’t agree with his lifestyle, but he gave me life. He’s my birth father, so I owed him at least the respect due a father.”

  “He gave you more than that.”

  Her forehead creased, a frown erasing the calm facade.

  “I was wrong before, but I recently found out who really owns the boardinghouse.”

  She frowned. “Who?” When he remained silent, she drew back and repeated. “Who?”

  “You do.”

  “No, that can’t be,” she countered, slowly shaking her head from side-to-side.

  “’Fraid so. Vince confirmed it and told me he’d bought it for Sadie. After her death, he put it solely in your name.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed while she shook her head in denial. “All the years of scrimping and saving…and it belonged to us the whole time?”