“Yo, Daddy, you ever joining the party?” Damon’s annoying voice broke into Nic’s thoughts. “Save us from giving your life history to my beautiful niece.”
“Looks like congratulations are in order, big bro,” Vince said. At least Nic had one brother who wasn’t such an asshole.
“What’s with this family? Doesn’t anyone work?” Nic hissed under his breath as he glared at his mother. “You pick today for a freaking family reunion. Thank you.”
“I wanted Violet to feel welcomed, and I thought you could use backup.” His mother headed into the kitchen to run interference, probably scared she would be down more than one son with Nic in his current mood.
“Knock it off, you two,” she admonished. “Nic and Megan haven’t eaten yet. Let me grab some plates.”
Tess started to rise, but his mother motioned her to stay seated. “Thanks but no thanks, honey. You’ve got your hands full. Come on, Violet. It’s time for a tour.”
“You’re Italian.” Anthony winked. “Kitchens are going to be a big part of your life from now on.”
Violet hopped up, so clearly eager.
“Tell me you’ve been raising my niece right.” Damon wrapped an arm around Megan’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “She does know what a cannoli is, right? Aglio Et Olio?”
Megan smiled cordially. “We traveled through Abruzzo on our way to Rome while we were living in Croatia. Does that count?”
“Yeah, and it was so great we went back to hike in Majella on holiday.” Violet stood on tiptoe to grab the good plates that were in a cabinet above his mother’s reach.
“Abruzzo?” Damon asked in mock horror.
“We’re from the wine country in western Sicily,” Anthony explained. “Your grandfather was from Ravenna, but we don’t like to talk about that.”
“Don’t let them worry either of you.” Tess bounced Annabelle on her lap. “The closest I’ve ever been to Italy is a neighborhood in New York, and I make out fine around here.”
“Don’t know how we ever got along without her.” His mother blew a kiss to Tess. “She helps me keep these boys in line.”
“And they are a handful,” Tess added. “Trust me.”
With a laugh, Violet set a plate down in front of Megan, and Damon did the honors of serving. Megan’s eyes widened as he heaped enough pasta on her plate to feed a small country.
“Just a taste, please.”
“When was the last time you ate Mama’s food?” Damon asked.
“Honestly, so long ago I don’t remember.”
Nic remembered, though. The last time he’d brought her to the house for Sunday dinner, a time-honored DiLeo tradition. She’d been quiet even then, overwhelmed by all the noisy chaos of his big family, of the family and friends coming and going at all hours.
Now she didn’t look so much overwhelmed as determined to hold her own in the midst of a lot of strong personalities. A protective mother, maybe. Or unsure of her reception. Nic couldn’t figure it out.
“Trust me then.” Damon drizzled olive oil over the plate. “You’ll want seconds. Parmesan or Romano?”
Nic didn’t hear her reply because Violet appeared and asked politely, “Where would you like to sit?”
He could see the uncertain excitement in her expression, the waiting. His mother was right. He needed to be careful with whatever he said and did right now.
“Next to Anthony, thanks.” Wouldn’t hurt to keep the table between him and Damon in his present frame of mind.
“Budge up,” he told his brother then slid another chair to the crowded table and sat.
Violet set the plate in front of him then returned to artfully arrange a place setting in front of him as if it mattered. She didn’t seem to notice everyone watching her. Megan looked as if she was barely holding it together.
He wasn’t sure why he noticed.
“Thanks. Looks great.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but he did want her to know he appreciated her effort.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He wanted coffee, but as she’d set a glass in front of him, he said, “Water, please.”
Off she went back to the counter to grab the pitcher, and he half expected someone—Damon most likely—to make a crack about her eagerness to serve him, but even his idiot brother kept his mouth shut this time.
Normally, every damned one of them would have thrown him under the bus, but today they cut him slack, seeming to understand the importance of this first family gathering, the fact that he and Megan—and Violet for that matter—hadn’t figured out how to handle the situation yet.
Or deal with the shock, in his case.
So they kept Violet talking about school and living abroad and her hobbies, getting to know the new family addition, while Megan pushed food around her plate, answering questions whenever they were directed her way. Talk finally circled to how long they intended to stay in New Orleans.
“Megan, you mentioned going to a hotel.” Nic braced himself to meet that blue gaze across the table. “But my mother invited you and Violet to stay here. You good with that?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes, and he knew he was putting her on the spot. But she might as well get used to being part of the family. She said she wanted to work something out, and at the very least that meant they’d be running into each other on important occasions for the rest of their lives.
Graduations. Weddings. Baptisms.
They were Violet’s parents. They were in this together, forever.
He started pushing food around his plate, too.
“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Megan began.
“I insist,” his mother said, going straight for the throat. “I absolutely insist. I’ve got this big empty house and Violet said you’ve been living in South America. Who knows when I’ll see you again?”
Guilt. Another glance at Megan’s stricken expression and Nic knew it was working. Then his mother zeroed in on Violet, pulling out the big guns. “Wouldn’t you like getting to know your dad? I’ve got pictures and home movies—”
“A trip down memory lane.” Anthony grimaced. “Call me when you’re through. I won’t be over till then.”
Tess punched his arm. “You be nice.”
“Cut him a break, green eyes,” Damon said. “Who in hell wants to revisit thirty-plus years of chief tyrant here when we’re dealing with the real thing every damned day?” He turned to Violet. “Cover your ears, niece girl.”
“Come on, Mom, please,” Violet said. “Why can’t we stay here? It’ll be great.”
Nic winced when he thought about the sheer amount of memorabilia his mother had stored in the attic. He had been the first. His every breath immortalized. Home movies recording his milestones. First tooth. First steps. First T-ball game. Then there was school stuff. Science fair ribbons. Lined paper filled with paragraphs of grade-school wisdom. School photos depicting the evolution of childhood in all his goofy glory.
Katrina had destroyed the house nearly to the roof but hadn’t swept any of that stuff away. No such luck.
“Megan?” his mother asked. “What do you say?”
She’d been outvoted, so there really wasn’t any gracious way to decline. Megan knew it, so she simply said, “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
Violet whooped and Damon raised a fist and said, “Pound it. I want you to save an afternoon for me. You can come to the dojo. I’m going to teach you to defend yourself.”
Really?”
“Really.” He shifted his gaze between Megan and Nic. “If it’s okay with your mom and dad, of course. She’s a beauty, you guys. You definitely want me to teach her some moves.”
“Mo-om? I can, can’t I?”
“That sounds like a very good idea,” Megan said. Nic, being a nonparent and all, didn’t bother weighing in.
“Now that’s all settled.” His mother grabbed an apron off the baker’s rack and tied it around her waist. “Nic, I told you where to bring their bag
s. Get Vince to help if you need him.” She added as an afterthought, “What are your plans for today? Will you be heading back to work?”
That was the one question he could answer without much thought. “I am. In fact, Violet’s coming with me to give a statement.” He threw the napkin on his plate and shoved the chair from the table. “Megan, as legal guardian, you’ll need to be there, too. I don’t want any questions coming up about circumventing due process.”
She glanced at him, surprised. “I don’t like the sound of this at all.”
Nic looked at Violet, suddenly feeling every inch a father. “You want to break the news to your mother or shall I?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MEGAN STARED UP AT THE fortress that was the police station, the very last place in the world she’d ever imagined visiting with her daughter.
“Back again,” Nic said to Violet, reinforcing Megan’s anxiety as he ushered them inside.
Megan followed, but she stepped aside to allow Violet to walk beside her dad. All the mental preparation she’d done to face the consequences of her choices hadn’t prepared her for being with Nic again.
Not even remotely.
She distracted herself with the reminder that she was on the same continent as Violet, who was alive and well if in possession of a new piercing. And Nic hadn’t dropped dead of a heart attack when Violet had arrived on his doorstep, either.
Things were turning out better than she’d had a right to hope. Even more unexpected had been Nic’s family. They’d been entirely gracious given the circumstances, courteous, avoiding opinions and recriminations to focus on what was most important—welcoming Violet to the family.
They’d accepted the situation in a loving way, and she couldn’t help remembering the first few times Nic had brought her around, how much she’d liked his family. How different they had been from her own, and how much their obvious love for each other had influenced her while rearing Violet.
Their acceptance now meant the world. Violet was no longer a child, as she’d so clearly demonstrated. Whatever arrangement Megan and Nic worked out would involve traveling to the States. That was going to be difficult enough without worrying about whether or not Violet would be well cared for.
Megan felt reassured.
That said, she’d also learned that her daughter had been picked up by the police at a tattoo parlor in the Quarter in the middle of the night. She didn’t have the details yet and was trying not to jump to conclusions, but it looked as if Violet had been lying through her teeth about a few more things.
“Where are you in New Orleans?” Megan had asked.
“With Dad.”
Yeah, right.
Megan warned herself to tackle one thing at a time. As long as Violet was okay, they could figure out everything else.
She and Violet followed Nic through the station, coming to a stop every time an officer demanded his attention on the way to his office.
“He’s so great, Mom,” Violet whispered while awaiting Nic, who spoke with the duty sergeant. “I can’t believe you kept him a secret all this time. See how much everyone likes him?”
Which translated into: See how much I like him?
Megan kept her reply mild when she said, “We’ll talk as soon as we can get a few minutes alone.”
Which didn’t look like it would be happening anytime soon given that they’d be staying with Nic’s mother.
But the last thing she needed was for Violet to shut down, which happened all too often of late. No, Megan needed to keep the communication open to understand what was going on in Violet’s head, so she could deal with it constructively.
The only thing Megan knew right now was that Violet had a plan that extended beyond the “Hi! I’m your daughter!” part of this situation.
Megan needed to get a bead on what it was.
They eventually made it to Nic’s office, a functional, somewhat nondescript place that noticeably lacked any personal touches. Or a woman’s touch. Which didn’t mean he didn’t have one, but there weren’t any family photos or knickknacks. Just a wall filled with diplomas and awards.
“Come on in,” he said. “Get comfortable. I’ll make it as quick as I can. I know it’s been a long day.”
For him, too, no doubt.
“NP.” Violet dropped down in the chair behind the desk.
No problem? Maybe not for Violet, but this whole situation was taking a toll on Megan, who’d never even contemplated disobeying rules until she’d met Nic. She may be all grown-up now and have an arsenal of coping skills, but the impressionable young girl was still inside, cringing at the idea of breaking the law and hoping to avoid conflict of any kind.
Megan scowled at her daughter, who’d hijacked her father’s chair. Violet smiled, and Nic didn’t seem to mind.
Grabbing a file from a stack, he half sat on the edge of his desk and said, “I’m going to look over this incident report then ask you a few questions. Sound good?”
Violet nodded eagerly then leaned back, politely settling in for the wait.
He lifted that dark gaze to Megan. “As soon as I’m through, I’m going to call in my deputy chief to witness the statement. Are you good with that or would you prefer a female officer?”
“Your deputy chief is fine,” Megan assured him.
Nic told her to sit, but she declined, still not over her experience of flying seventeen hours in coach. Instead, she occupied herself with the neatly framed documents to learn something about the imposing man who’d once been a boy she knew.
Nic had studied criminal justice, earned an associate’s degree at the community college then his bachelor’s and master’s at Loyola University. That surprised her since both her parents were tenured professors there.
Nic had certainly known her mother was dean of the Department of Languages and Cultures and her father of History. Had her parents known that Nic had been a student there? If so, they’d never mentioned him. The very thought of them having Nic in a class, knowing about the existence of their grandchild, sent a brittle chill through Megan.
That she’d put everyone in such a situation… Obviously her parents hadn’t betrayed her secret. She couldn’t imagine why they would have when they’d so wholeheartedly disapproved of Nic and had been so disappointed in her for getting involved with a boy they considered so unsuitable.
Megan glanced over her shoulder at Violet and Nic sitting close, such an impossible sight. They looked so alike. The way they leaned slightly forward, relaxed. The way they both tilted their heads to the side—Nic to read his report and Violet to watch her dad. Female and male. Youthful and mature.
The sight of them wrenched Megan hard. She wanted some miraculous way to erase all the bad decisions, all the lost time, wanted to figure out how to work out something that would meet everyone’s needs so they wouldn’t waste any more days. In that moment she felt like such an outsider.
The woman who’d kept them apart.
She’d lived with the guilt for a long time. Ever since struggling to become independent, to think for herself and trust her abilities, only then did she recognize what a mess she’d made of the situation. She felt so much more than guilt now.
Practicality had buffered her from the shame, she realized. She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of unburdening her guilty conscience, didn’t deserve to be relieved of the endless guilt of her lies. But she’d suffered instead, determined to consider the impact of her own moral failure on Violet, how it might affect her emotionally.
She’d wanted to present the truth to Violet as smoothly as she could. Nic, too. She’d wanted to ease the transition between them, knew the truth would change both their lives forever. They’d be forced to deal with each other, forced to live with the consequences of her actions. No matter what happened between them. Even if they chose never to see each other again, they’d both know the other was there. They’d have to make the decision, know there was no happily-ever-after.
Megan had told herse
lf she was only being responsible. She’d told Nic that, too. She hadn’t unburdened her guilt to start the journey toward redemption. If redemption was even possible. If she couldn’t forgive herself, how could she expect Violet or Nic to?
No, Megan had reconciled herself to the situation and placed her daughter’s needs above her own. That’s what good parents did. And she’d spent her entire adult life trying to be a good parent.
But had she been lying to herself? Had she suffered the guilt so she wouldn’t have to deal with the shame of knowing how much she’d failed the people she loved the most?
Seeing Violet and Nic together, all the hard-won independence, all the confidence she’d gained through the years felt like nothing. She felt small and so utterly failed.
“Violet.” Nic glanced up from the folder. “You ready?”
Their daughter nodded, so heart-wrenchingly eager. Megan wondered if he realized how much his approval meant to his daughter, how much Violet wanted him to care.
That was Megan’s fault, too.
Nic spoke into the intercom, and the spit-polished deputy chief arrived, the formal witness to a statement Megan prayed Violet would never have to make in a courtroom.
Nic conducted the introductions, and Megan got the chance to thank the deputy chief for taking care of her daughter.
Then they got down to business.
“Violet, I want you to start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”
Violet sat up in the leather chair, suddenly at attention. “I saw you walking by the tattoo parlor before that hot rod picked you up, so I thought I’d check it out in case you were on official business and got called away.”
Violet sounded as if she were reciting lines from a television cop show. But there was nothing amusing about this situation. Not her daughter running away to wander the French Quarter streets at night. Not her eagerness to find and help the father she’d been kept from all her life.
“Okay, good.” Nic inclined his head. “But can you start back a little further so I’m clear on all the details? Tell me about when you left South America.”
Then There Were Three Page 6