Ask Mariah (31 page)

"Just because you gave her life doesn't give you any claim to her now. How dare you come back and mess up Joanna's life. You had your chance to be a mother, and you walked away. Now you have second thoughts. Well, to hell with you." She stood up. "I want my daughter. Where is she?"

"I don't know. And just for the record, I didn't go to her. She came to me. She wanted to know the truth, and I gave it to her."

"Your version of it, I'm sure."

"You had plenty of time to tell her whatever you wanted. It's not my fault that you didn't."

"You must know where she is. She didn't come home. She must be here -- or with that man. Where does he live? What's his address?"

"She's not with Michael either. I think she's alone -- all alone." Sophia stared down at the floor for a moment, then lifted her gaze back to hers. "You should have seen her face. She looked as if someone had driven a stake through her heart. I never wanted to cause her so much pain. Believe me, I never wanted that."

"I hate you," she said, feeling an intense, overwhelming sense of anger and pain. "I hate you for taking her away from me."

Sophia's head came up proudly. "I hate you, too. For having her all those years with her. For being able to love her when I couldn't."

"I'm her mother," she cried again.

"So am I."

"You can't have her."

"Maybe neither of us can.  You should have told her the truth a long time ago."

"She'll come back to me," she said, but she left the house, she had a terrible feeling that Joanna might never come back.

* * *

Michael turned on the light in the twins' bedroom and watched with a heavy heart as Rose and Lily unbuttoned their party dresses. When Rose's battle to undo the buttons turned into an angry, tearful struggle, Michael knelt down and covered her shaky little hands with his. Then he finished the job.

"It will be okay," he said, although he wondered how many times he would have to say it before either of them believed him. "You'll see Joanna again." At least he hoped they would.

He helped Rose pull the dress over her head. He hung it up in the closet as she pulled her nightgown out of the drawer and put it on. Lily had already changed without any help from him. She was always the independent one, too proud to ask for anything, even at the tender age of six.

"Okay, let's get your teeth brushed." He tried to sound cheerful and upbeat. It didn't ring true. The house was so quiet, lonely, empty. It reminded him of when Angela died, that first night he and the girls had spent alone. He never thought he'd be reliving it.

As Lily and Rose went into the bathroom, he sat down on Rose's bed and picked up Peter Panda Bear. He remembered the first day Joanna had come to the house, the first time she'd seen Angela's picture, the first moment he'd felt an undeniable attraction to her.

Joanna was Angela's sister -- but despite their resemblance, they were very different from each other.  Maybe they would have been more similar if they had been raised in the same family. Or maybe they would have been exactly as they were. Genetics or environment -- he wondered which played the stronger role. Not that it mattered.

Angela was gone. And Joanna -- he hoped to God she wasn't gone, too.

He stood up as the girls returned to the room. Rose's pigtails were falling out of their rubber bands, so he gently pulled them out of her hair, careful not to tangle the strands with his clumsy fingers. He remembered the first time he'd tried to do her hair, her cries of pain, her silent, proud winces. Now he could do it without hurting her. At least he'd accomplished something in the past year. He tossed the rubber bands on the nightstand. "Let's get into bed."

He held the covers for Rose as she slipped into bed. He placed Peter Panda Bear carefully within her arms and pulled the covers up to her chin. He kissed her on the forehead, then kissed Peter Panda Bear, as he did every night. "Sleep tight," he whispered. She didn't smile tonight. She looked sad, the way she'd looked a year ago, when her mother hadn't come home to tuck her in.

He turned away from her sad eyes and walked over to Lily's bed. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as if somehow she would find the answer there. He tucked the covers around her body and kissed her cheek. "Good night, honey. Sleep well."

He paused at the door. "I'll be here for you, girls. I'll always love you. I promise."

They didn't reply. They wanted their mother. They wanted Joanna. All they had was him.

He flipped off the light and walked into the hall. He paused, deliberately leaving the door open. He wanted to know what they were thinking. In fact, he was desperate to know.

"I want Mama," Lily said.

His heart stopped at the anguish in her voice.

"I want Joanna," Rose said.

He couldn't bear to hear anymore. So he left. He went down the hall to his bedroom, and as he lay down on the soft bed, he wished he was on the hard ground, under the stars, holding the woman he loved in his arms.

* * *

"Joanna isn't coming back," Lily told her sister.

"Maybe she's with Mama now. Maybe she went to find her."

Lily suddenly sat up in bed. "Maybe we should go find her, too."

"We don't know where she is."

"I bet she went to visit that man with the boat."

"I don't like him. He's scary," Rose said. "He grabbed Mama and made her kiss him, remember? I don't want to see him."

"We have to do something."

"We could ask Mariah." Rose knew she had to stop her sister before she did something crazy.

"Okay." Lily picked up the wizard and brought it over to Rose's bed. She set it down between them and rubbed her hand across the top of the crystal ball. The light flashed.

Rose felt a spark of hope. Maybe Mariah could help. She was the one who had found Joanna in the first place.

Lily focused her eyes on the wizard. "We need your help, Mariah. Joanna ran away and we have to find her. Do you know where she is?"

Rose held her breath as it seemed to take forever for the wizard to speak.

"When you're lonely as can be, you'll find your comfort at the sea."

"The ocean," Lily proclaimed. "Joanna is with Mama and that man with the boat."

"How can we find her, Mariah?" she asked. "We don't know where the boat is."

"When your friend is no longer sad and blue, she'll come looking just for you," Mariah said.

"Huh?" Lily asked as Mariah went dark. She picked up the wizard and shook her, but the light wouldn't come back on.

"Maybe Mariah is broken," she said.

"Yeah, maybe she's just a stupid toy after all."

"Joanna won't look for us. We're not even missing," she said with a sigh.

Lily's eyes lit up. "We could be."

"What do you mean?" Rose asked nervously.

"We could go find Mama, and maybe Joanna would look for us, like she did when we lost Peter Panda Bear."

"We're not allowed to cross the street by ourselves."

"We'll be careful. We'll look both ways before we cross, just like Daddy says."

She sent her sister a doubtful look. "Daddy will be mad."

"I don't care. He made Mama go away, and now he's made Joanna leave, too." Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Do you think it was his fault?"

"It has to be."

She looked out the window. "It's awfully dark. Do we have to go now?"

"No, we'll go in the morning, before Daddy wakes up. The ocean is only a couple of blocks away. We should have gone a long time ago."

"There was that park, remember?" she said. "We played on the swings while Mommy and that man talked."

"I remember. I think we can find it again," Lily said. "We have to try."

"Okay." She lay back in her bed and closed her eyes. She could see Joanna's smiling face. Everything would be all right in the morning. As soon as they found Joanna.

Tony woke up late on Sunday morning. He'd tried to drink himself into oblivion, but whiskey had only dulled the pain, not taken it away. Now he had a headache to match his heartache. He crawled out of bed and stumbled up the companionway, blinking against the blinding sunlight.

It was too bright. He preferred the shadowy darkness of evening, when mistakes were easier to hide. He blinked again as he realized someone was sitting on deck. It was his brother, Frank, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, not looking at all like a successful restaurateur, but more like a brother,

"You sure do sleep late," Frank said as Tony sat down on the bench across from him.

"How long have you been here?"

"A couple of hours." He waved his hand toward an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Judging by that, I figured you were out for the count."

"Yeah, well, I was celebrating our parents' fortieth wedding anniversary. What a joke that turned out to be."

Frank didn't smile. "I almost wish I could sail away. You don't need an extra hand, do you?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You? Run away? That doesn't sound like my big brother. What about the restaurant? Your wife? Your kids?"

"What about them? The restaurant has always been Papa's. Linda and I aren't getting along, and I barely know my own kids. Of course, it appears that I don't know my parents either."

He stared out at the water, the sailboats, the seagulls diving into the water, searching for breakfast. He understood how Frank felt. The family he'd loved, the parents he'd believed in, had let him down. His father's talk of loyalty to family now seemed like bullshit. How could a man force his wife to give away her child, even if the child wasn't his? He didn't understand how Vincent could have let Sophia go through such a terrible experience. She was a born mother; she lived for her children. Yet Vincent, who proclaimed to love her, had literally ripped the baby out of her arms and turned her over to another. It hadn't made sense last night, and it didn't make sense now.

"I still can't believe Mama had an affair," Frank said.

"I have a hard time believing she even had sex, much less that she was getting it from someone other than her husband. She always seemed so saintly, above all that. I wonder who it was. I wonder if it was someone Papa knew. No, he probably would have killed the guy, and I don't remember anyone dying unexpectedly."

Frank shrugged. "I don't know why he didn't leave her,"

"He didn't want to break up the family. De Lucas don't divorce," he said, repeating one of his father's favorite sayings. "They just give away inconvenient, illegitimate children." He paused. "Last night you put all the blame on Mama, but it was Papa's fault, too. And the person who got hurt the most is Joanna."

"She seems to have had a good enough life," Frank said.

"How do you know that?"

"She looked all right."

"I thought she looked like hell, and why wouldn't she? How would you feel if you suddenly found out you were adopted?"

"I feel that way now. Nothing is what I thought. And Linda -- she seems almost relieved to know that Sophia had an affair. I don't understand her either."

"Maybe Linda thinks she has a better chance of getting put on a pedestal now that Mama has fallen off hers. I know you don't want my advice, but you're going to get it anyway. Linda needs some attention. You'd better start worrying less about Mama and Papa and more about your own family."

Normally Frank would have snapped back at him, cut him down with harsh words. This morning he didn't say anything; he just stared at the water. "When are you leaving?" he asked finally.

"Tomorrow." He looked toward the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance -- the gateway to freedom, a new life.

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. I guess when I find what I'm looking for."

"And what is that?"

"Hell if I know," he said with a grin.

Frank smiled. "You're a little shit, you know that?"

"What does that make you, a big shit?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to stay and work in the restaurant, do what you've been doing?"

"I think so. I don't really know how to do anything else. Or maybe ..."

"Maybe what?"

"I'd like to have my own place. I never considered it a possibility, because Papa set such store by De Luca's, carrying on the family name, the traditions. But our family is falling apart. Angie's gone. You'll be gone by tomorrow. Mama and Papa -- I don't see how they can stay together."

"You're forgetting someone."

"Michael? He's not really family."

"Joanna. Our half sister."

Frank shook his head. "I don't think I can see her."

"It's not her fault. She didn't break up the family. Mama and Papa did that on their own."

"She was the end result, and she looks so much like Angie."

"Yeah. Angie's probably shaking her head in amazement right now, wherever she is. God, I miss her."

"I miss her, too. I miss everything. I want to turn back the clock and start over. But I can't."

"None of us can. Even though Mama and Papa apparently thought they could. They kept this secret a long time. It might not have ever come out if Michael hadn't taken the girls to that school, hadn't stumbled across Joanna the way he did. We'd still be oblivious,"

"I would have preferred that. If Mama and Papa aren't who I thought, then who am I -- who are you?"

"You are the father of four great kids -- and you have a terrific wife. Don't make the same mistakes Papa did. Don't put your pride before your family. Go home, Frank."

Frank stood up. "You're right."

"I am?" he asked in amazement.

His brother laughed. "Seems to be a week for firsts. If I don't see you before you go..." He shrugged his shoulders somewhat awkwardly. "Have a good trip. And come back someday, okay? I know we're not close, but we're brothers. I -- I love you," Frank grabbed Tony by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks, then walked away.

He needed another shot of whiskey after that good-bye. Somehow, after last night's disastrous party, he'd been elevated from obnoxious pest to beloved brother. He searched out the bottle of whiskey and found a few drops left in the bottom. He raised it to the sky. "I hope you're in peace, Angie, because the rest of us sure as hell aren't."

* * *

Sophia knew she would find her husband at De Luca's. He wouldn't want to see her, but she needed to see him. The restaurant didn't open until five on Sundays; it was only ten. She doubted anyone else would be in yet.

When she entered the restaurant she saw Vincent sitting at one of the booths, a cup of black coffee in front of him, the newspaper unopened. It was their booth, the table where they had sat for their first date when Vincent's father had owned the restaurant, when she had dreamed of a future with the handsome young Italian, who in turn had dreamed of running the restaurant, making it the most successful in San Francisco. Vincent had done that, but they had all paid a price for his ambition.

She walked over to the table and sat down. Thirty years ago she had thought the trouble was behind her, finished. But this day had loomed inevitably. Seeing her daughter again had always been her favorite dream, but she had known she couldn't have daughter without revisiting the past, without reliving the pleasure and the pain. They always came together, as did roses and thorns, love and hate.

"Forty years," Vincent said heavily. He raised his coffee cup. "Happy anniversary."

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes, not giving anything away. "Do you want to leave?"

"I don't know." She had lived with this man, loved him, cherished him, cheated on him, hated him; she had experienced every emotion with Vincent. They had shared a lifetime together -- for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Did the vows matter anymore? Did anything matter?

"We've been through so much, Sophia." His words echoed her thoughts. "Last year we buried a daughter together. We have other children to consider, grandchildren." He circled his finger around the top of his cup. "I shouldn't have made you give her up. I knew it hurt you. At the time I wanted to hurt you."

"I know you did."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he said gruffly. "I never thought of her as anything but a nameless, faceless baby, until I saw her last night and realized she was you. I gave away a part of you." He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them. "I didn't think of her that way then. Whenever I saw your rounded stomach, I thought of him kissing you, loving you. Sometimes I wished you hadn't told me about the affair."

"I had to. We hadn't made love in three months. The baby couldn't have been yours." She took a deep breath. "I was lonely, Vincent. You were busy with the restaurant. When I'd visit you at night, it always seemed you were in the middle of a party, telling stories, drinking wine, laughing. And you'd flirt with the women who sat at the bar, who came alone to dine."

"It didn't mean anything."

"It meant something to me. I was home alone every night with the children. I yearned for conversation with another adult. I wanted passion and friendship and love."

"And you found all that with him?" Vincent asked, playing with the rubber band on the newspaper.

"No. What I found with him was another lonely soul. We met at the bookstore. We both reached for the same book at the same time. It was a book of poetry. I'd never met a man who liked poetry. We talked about the book, and when he asked me to have a cup of coffee at the restaurant next door, I said yes. The next thing I knew we were making plans to meet again, then one night we made love. We knew it was wrong. But that one night, that one foolish night, changed everyone's life. I know I said it before, Vincent, but I am sorry it ever happened, so very sorry." She took a deep breath, battling with her emotions. One act of love had betrayed years of commitment. She wished she could take it back, but she couldn't.

Vincent's dark gaze settled on her face. "I need to know something -- did you ever see him again?"

"No, never, not even a glimpse."

"Do you love me at all, Sophia?"

"I'm still married to you."

"That isn't what I asked you." He covered her hand with his. "Do you love me?"

Her eyes watered. Did she love this man who had brought out the best and the worst in her? Who had paid back her sin with one of his own? Who had been a good father to three children, but a terrible father to one? Could she give him a yes or a no? Was it that simple? Maybe it was. Maybe sixty years of living had made it just that simple. "Yes. I love you."

The tension in his face eased as he nodded his head. "Good. Very good."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"In spite of everything?"

"Maybe because of everything." He paused, studying her with his dark eyes. "It is not the infatuation of our youth or the love that we knew as young adults. It is a love that comes from living together, supporting each other, sharing grief, sharing joy. I wouldn't know what to do without you."

She nodded, understanding him completely for perhaps the first time in their long marriage. "The rest of the family expects us to go our separate ways."

"I am the head of this family. I still make the decisions."

She smiled at the arrogance returning to his tone. He would be all right. They would be all right. Somehow Frank and Tony would be all right. It was Joanna she worried about.

"There is one thing," Sophia said.  "Can you accept Joanna?"

"As your daughter? I can try."

It was enough -- a beginning.

The front door to the restaurant burst open, and Michael ran in. His hair was a mess. His T-shirt hung loosely over his jeans. Panic raced through his eyes as he glanced around the room. "Are they here? Please, God, tell me they're here."

"Who?" Sophia asked.

"Lily and Rose. They've run away. They're looking for their mother and Joanna, and God only knows where they've gone."

"Are you sure they're not just hiding in the house?" she asked.

"I looked everywhere, in every closet, under every bed. They're gone. I heard them talking last night about how much they missed their mother and Joanna. I don't know if they still think Joanna is their mother, or if they think Joanna and Angela are together somewhere. I have to find them."

"Calm down, we'll find them," Vincent said as he stood up. "I'll call Frank and Linda."

"And Louis and Rico," Sophia added. "And send someone over to get Tony." She put a hand on Michael's arm. "It will be all right; we'll find them. They can't have gone far."

"It's Angie all over again," he said abruptly. "I went home and found her gone. I waited for her to come back, but she never did. She disappeared. I never said good-bye. I never said I'm sorry. And God, I was sorry, you know. I didn't want her to die."

"I know you didn't. It wasn't your fault, Michael. We never thought it was."