The hospital chapel was a small place on the first floor of the hospital and was now empty. Sophia went straight to the candles and lit one for Lucy. The ritual was familiar from the days when she’d frantically lit candles for Riley in North Carolina. Enough to start a bonfire. But today was different. Instead of that bargaining belief she’d had, the thought that if only she lit enough candles and offered up enough prayers God would take care of it, was gone. It had been replaced by a peace in lighting a candle, in offering up a prayer. The ritual gave her something to do, an action to take in the face of hopelessness.
Because there was nothing quite as empty as a place with no hope.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting at a pew when Riley came through the chapel doors. He took a seat beside her. “How did I know where to find you?”
“You know me.” She reached for his hand.
He leaned back in the pew. “So quiet in here.”
“I lit a candle for Lucy.”
“Just one?”
“It turns out that’s all we need.”
He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed her hand. “So it’s not a numbers game?”
“No. I was wrong about that, and so many other things.”
He took a deep breath. “If she makes it this time, she’s going away. Not coming back to the same house in that damned area. I’ll sell it out from under her if that’s what it takes.”
If she makes it this time. “It has to be done.”
“I’m also going to find out if her boyfriend had anything to do with this overdose.”
“As police chief or as her brother?”
“It happened in our town.”
“Right. Sure. It’s your job.”
A little red flag went up, waving in the distance. Riley was a fighter, after all, and someone had just picked a hell of a fight with him if they had anything to do with what had happened to Lucy.
“I know it was her choice, but whoever gave her the drugs should be accountable in some way. Especially if they wind up killing her.”
“Don’t say that,” Sophia shushed him. “She’s going to be all right.”
“We don’t know that.”
He was right. She had nothing again. What could she say to the facts? It was no use denying reality. Been there, done that. Bought the coffee mug.
Riley was quiet for several minutes before he spoke again, his voice low and rough. “Thank you for staying in touch with Lucy all these years.”
“I always liked Lucy. And she was also the only connection I had left to you.”
“Truth is, in my entire sorry life, you’re the only one who ever loved me. I thought Lucy should love me, you know? She’s my sister. But how the hell can she love me when she doesn’t even love herself?”
The sound of his voice was so raw and pained that Sophia sucked in a breath. “Oh, Riley.”
He pulled her closer. “Baby, can I kiss you in here?”
“I don’t think God would mind.”
He kissed her, a light chaste kiss on the lips that left her yearning for more. “I’m sorry to put you through all this.”
“I’m doing fine.”
Of course, if it were Riley instead of Lucy…but no, she could handle anything now. She had hope back and a strength she hadn’t known possible. She’d grown into a woman just as strong as her mother had been. Maybe even stronger.
“Yeah, you really are. Fine,” he said, his lips teasing her jawline. “Still love me?”
“Still.” And she meant it with her whole heart.
* * *
Hours later, Riley was informed that Lucy had been taken off the ventilator. Seeing her so helpless. So sick. It had taken everything in him not to cuss the nurses out. It wasn’t their fault, but he needed somebody to blame. Somebody who wasn’t strapped to a ventilator.
Lucy would live. Too bad he couldn’t say the same about Dickhead.
Luther had done some investigating while Riley had been waiting for word at the hospital with Sophia. The house they’d been called to was owned by someone named Richard Lewis. It hadn’t taken much longer to find out that the house had been mostly vacant for years after the man’s death. Tied up in probate or some such thing. But the man’s twenty-five-year-old son was apparently using it from time to time as a party house. According to Luther, he’d been by a few months ago on a disturbance of the peace call but at the time he hadn’t found probable cause to search the place. He’d done his duty and filed the reports, which might prove useful now.
The location of a near overdose from what was apparently a cocktail of alcohol and Xanax required investigation by his police department. One of his officers was on the way right now to interrogate the man. He’d at least had the good sense to call nine-one-one and not to show up here.
Chances were he also wouldn’t be at the house for questioning.
But Riley would find him, one way or another. No matter how long it took. In between city council meetings, paper cuts and traffic tickets. He’d find the man and put him under the jail.
“Mr. Jacobs?”
He turned to the nurse.
“She’s hoarse from the tube which is normal, but she’s talking.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Sophia as he stood.
They’d been sitting in the waiting room again for what felt like decades but in reality had only been most of the day.
“I’ll wait here.”
“Hey, you’ve been great today.” He kissed her once, and followed the nurse.
Sophia had spent the day with him, going home once to check on Hershee and then bringing back lunch. She’d practically force fed him the turkey sandwich but she’d been right. He needed to eat, and he would have told her the same thing had roles been reversed. And it had been an interesting role reversal. He couldn’t help but be transported back to a time when he’d tried to patch her back together and failed miserably.
But she wasn’t failing him now. Being with her was like a lifeline.
And he needed one right now, as he walked into Lucy’s room. She was a thin memory of his beautiful sister. Her twenty-six years looked more like forty-six today. Shocky, pale face, sunken cheeks. He should have taken one look at her and sent her packing to rehab. Sold the house while she was gone. Tough shit if she didn’t like it. He was done caring whether or not she’d ever talk to him again. The important thing was that she stay alive. He was going to remember that from now on.
“Hi,” he said from the foot of her bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and a loud sob wracked her body. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” He grabbed the hand that wasn’t hooked to IVs. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have sent you to rehab months ago.”
“There you go again. It’s my fault. Not yours. You didn’t need to do anything. But from now on, things are going to be different.”
“Yeah?” Had she hit bottom yet? Or would it take someone dying for that to happen?
“I don’t want to live like this anymore. I hate myself. I want to stop for good.”
God, how he wanted to believe that. But he’d heard it one too many times. He sat on the edge of her bed. “Luce, you have to leave. You can’t come back here, not for a long time.”
Her eyes were watery. “Mom’s house?”
“I’m selling it.” If there was a hard edge to his voice, he couldn’t help that. Lucy was stuck. From time to time everyone got stuck and needed a big shove towards their future. This was his shove.
She nodded, letting the tears fall unrestrained. “I screwed it all up.”
“It’s just time to move on. Too many ghosts in that house.”
“I wish I was stronger. Like you.”
“You’ll get there.” He took a Kleenex from the box nearby and rubbed her tears away. “The police are going to need to talk to you. There’s going to be an investigation.”
She sighed. “I was afraid of that. This must look bad for you.”
“No one cares about that.”
“There’s no one to blame but myself. I’m the one who mixed drugs with alcohol.”
“Why did you go back to his house?”
“He had some of my things and I wanted them back.”
“You could have asked me—”
“So you could have wound up beating the shit out of him and losing your job? No. It was something I had to do. No one forced me to stay and drink. Don’t blame it on him.”
“He hit you,” he said through a steel encased jaw. “How about pressing charges now?”
She shook her head. “Maybe I just want him out of my life. If I’m going away that will take care of it.”
Until the blockhead came upon the next woman, but he couldn’t worry about that now. Lucy was right and he had to focus on her now. He’d take care of the asshole later, but take care of him he would.
“But Riley. Please be careful. He really hates you now. I think you humiliated him and he doesn’t take that sort of thing well.”
“I can handle him.”
“I won’t feel right about this until he’s out of town or locked up. Watch your back. Don’t get complacent.”
“Never.”
Lucy picked up his left hand and twisted the ring on his finger. Cracked a smile. “Does this mean what I think it does?”
He couldn’t help but feel a small smile coming on. “Yeah.”
She leaned back, appearing wiped out by the ten minute conversation they’d just had. “Told you. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
“Thanks.”
The nurse approached. “I think she needs her rest.”
“I’ll check back in later,” Riley said. “Probably going into work.”
Lucy nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Other than straight into rehab. He’d make those phone calls today. He found Sophia sitting in the waiting room and when she saw him approach, her eyes filled with such obvious affection for him that a wave of love hit him hard and fast, threatening to take him under. It had always been that way for him when it came to her. Sinking. Falling. Walking around like he’d been hit with the stupid stick.
She stood up and he didn’t hesitate pulling her into his arms, tight against him.
“Is everything all right?” Her voice sounded muffled against his chest.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
19
Because Riley needed to drop by the station, Sophia decided to go to the restaurant.
Every now and again when he was in town, Daddy-o stopped by the restaurant to check in on old employees and praise Sophia on all her efforts, but it had been some time since he’d done that. She wondered what he’d think of the changes Angie had made to the menu. Most of all she considered whether telling him the news about her and Riley in a public place might be a better proposition for all concerned. Safer. After all, her father didn’t even like it when someone raised their voice in the restaurant. And waving to your waiter or waitress? Please. Tacky. Take a chill pill and wait. Italian dining was an experience and waiting a part of it.
Sophia walked in the backdoor to the kitchen. “Hey, everybody. How’s it going?”
Angie turned to Sophia. “Your father said you wouldn’t be in because of a sick friend. Is this sick friend about six foot one?”
“No. It was Lucy, and I don’t want to talk about it. Is everything running smoothly so far?”
“He’s driving me crazy.” Angie hissed, lowering her voice enough that Sophia had to get closer to hear. “You know how he intimidates me. He’s like Frank Sinatra and I’m—not Frank Sinatra.”
“You’re exaggerating. You’re the chef. Do your thing and ignore him.”
“Oh, so easy for you to say!” Angie stirred with a vengeance.
Raul flitted around every station, not stopping long enough to be near Angie for long. Ah ha. Big clue it was a tense night for the chef.
Daddy-o burst through the kitchen. “Angie, how’s that fettuccine doing? Oh, Sophia! Here you are.”
Sophia went into her father’s arms. “Hi, Daddy-o.”
“I thought you were visiting with your sick friend. You deserve a night off, mi amore! What are you doing here?”
“I won’t be here long, but I wanted to talk to you anyway. And this might be a good time.”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’re quite busy here tonight.”
“I’ve got this, Mr. Abella!” Angie kicked the oven door shut.
Daddy-o was always so oblivious to these gestures indicating the stirrings of World War III. Sophia gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure you have a minute or two to spare me.”
He laughed. “Let’s grab a table in a minute. Right after I check on the spaghetti sauce.”
“Oh, God!” Angie yelled.
“What is it?” Daddy asked. “Are you all right?”
“I have a cramp!” Angie stalked off.
Sophia sighed and smiled at her father, who looked confused as he went for the spaghetti sauce. Knowing Daddy-o, he’d equate the cramp to a feminine problem and wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Meet you out there.” Sophia passed by Mama’s photo and repeated the nightly gesture.
To be honest, part of being at the restaurant every night was getting to ‘see’ Mama and let her know all was well at Giancarlo’s, her second home. Sophia had missed the ritual during her marriage when she’d been off in North Carolina with Riley, and had determined not to let that much time ever slip by again.
If it isn’t too much trouble, Mama, would you give me a little help here tonight? Send down some good juju. I have to tell Daddy-o something he’s not going to be too happy to hear. Something he might be shocked to hear.
And Eileen, nowhere in sight.
Sophia hadn’t lied. Not exactly. And wasn’t it her business whether she was married or not? Her decision and a much bigger decision than running this restaurant, or closing down on Mondays. Daddy-o thought her fully capable of making those decisions, so surely he’d understand and be behind her on this one. Yes, that’s right. He would.
Sophia caught Lizzie’s arm as she whizzed by. “Bring me two glasses of Brooke’s Cabernet and keep them coming. No, bring the bottle. Bring two.”
“Bottles? What’s up?” Lizzie asked.
“I’m telling my father tonight. About Riley.”
“And the non-divorce?”
Sophia nodded like a person who’d lost neck control. A sound somewhere between a wheeze and a moan came out of her mouth.
“Can’t it wait until I go home?” Lizzie whined.
“No, I need people here. Lots and lots of bodies. You don’t understand. He won’t even raise his voice.” She took a seat in a booth and rearranged the silverware. Re-folded the napkins. Twice. Waved at the Wilsons, party of three, as they were leaving.
Finally Daddy-o joined her. “Ah, you waited for me.” He uncorked the wine, sniffed the cork, poured, swished and took a swallow. “I’ll have to tell Brooke this Cabernet is a little too nutty. What do you think?”
She would have to say that nutty was a perfect flavor for this family but that was beside the point. Sophia took a sip and nodded. “I like it.”
He shrugged. “It’s only my opinion.”
Sophia took in a deep, even breath. He was in a good mood tonight, and would be reasonable.
“As a man who’s served and graded wine for over thirty years.”
Right. “It might be a little nutty.”
He shook his finger at her, smiling. “You have always had a mind of your own, haven’t you?”
Oh hell to the yes. Sophia took a gulp of the wine.
Daddy-o frowned. “That’s not the way Mama and I taught you.”
She took a sip and swished the way she remembered being taught by her parents at the dinner table. Smiled at Daddy. Cleared her throat. “So. I’ve got some good news.”
“Wonderful.”
Or not. “I think it is. See, here’s the
thing. I’m not actually, if you want to get right down to it, technically…divorced.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m—not divorced. Riley and me. Still married.” Oh God, the ring. She hid her left hand. Had he noticed? She had planned on easing him into this a bit better.
“I paid Guiliana Hart five hundred dollars for an easy divorce. That’s what she said! Easy. Never trust a lawyer.”
“You said it was cheap.”
“Five hundred dollars is cheap. No matter. Surely it’s just a paperwork glitch, no?”
One heck of a paper glitch. It got stuck in her desk drawer and never made its way to the United States Postal service. Oopsie. Sophia poured more wine, and thanked God she was right handed.
“I never sent Riley the papers.”
He frowned. “That could be the problem.”
“Yes, I’m fairly sure that’s it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I never wanted the divorce? I just put it away and forgot about it. Next thing I know it’s sitting in my desk drawer collecting dust. What a story, huh? One for the grandkids! How do you like that? Oops I forgot to get divorced. Silly me.”
Daddy wasn’t laughing.
She cleared her throat. “Then a really funny thing happened. Riley came back to town and took over for Bert. You remember Bert? Of course you do. What a stupid question. Anyway, he rented the house right next door to me. I mean Riley, not Bert. Bert retired. Well, you remember. I saw Riley every day! How funny, huh?”
Still no laughter. Obviously not funny. She got that. She didn’t think it was funny at first, either.
Sophia took another gulp of wine. “It turns out that Riley doesn’t want the divorce either. And so we… he and I were just thinking, hey, why bother? You know?”
“Why bother.” Daddy drummed his fingers on the table.
“Exactly.” Still hiding her left hand under the table.
“Let me see if I understand this. It’s ‘too much trouble’ to get divorced.” He raised his fingers in mock quotes. “So you’re going to stay married to the man who broke your heart. Did I miss anything?”
Oh yes you missed a lot Daddy, but most of it is not only X-rated but also the kind of stuff I won’t talk to my father about. If only Mama were here.
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