Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (28 page)

“You know,” Abby looked from Jericho to Suri, “you two would make a cute couple. You already seem comfortable together.”

To their credit, neither of them laughed. But Jericho’s eyes glinted green with mirth, and a warm smile tilted his lips into an irresistible bow. “Can I offer you a ride somewhere, Ms. Robertson?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say she’d ride him anywhere he pleased, but that would’ve been entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. She had so many things to do before her show at Asylum, but Jericho was offering her this glimpse into his life.

And she wanted it.

Jericho felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from under him. Literally. Abby had been going on and on about the music teacher who had taken over her private lessons. He hadn’t thought anything about it at first. His younger sister was inclined to like people, particularly those who paid her attention. Last weekend, both she and his mother had blatantly told him this teacher would be a perfect match. Neither of them had ever mentioned her name. Just a name would have been enough to clue him in.

He’d been picturing some spinster with a hundred cats and a dreamy, out-to-lunch personality. Now he had to give his sister some credit. No matter what her name was, Suri was absolutely perfect for him.

Jericho had never known Suri to be this quiet. They had loaded the cellos into the back of his truck and closed the camper shell without her saying anything. Of course, Abby jabbered at the speed of light, switching topics so quickly he’d lost track of what she was trying to say before they’d pulled out of the parking lot.

“You should see her play, Jeri.” Abby squirmed in the backseat of his crew cab pickup. He’d stopped demanding she buckle up years ago, figuring he’d have more luck trying to hang on to her if his lifted Chevy Silverado was ever involved in a wreck. “It’s like magic! The music just flows right out of her cello and into your body until you realize you’ve never heard anything so beautiful!”

Like her dancing.
He chanced a glance over to the passenger seat, where a subdued Suri was very involved in the scenery on their way to Cambridge.

Abby leaned between the front seats. She rested her elbows on the center console, her curly dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. “You’re so quiet, Ms. Robertson. Why?”

“Well, you’ve been bragging on me for about twenty minutes. I’m making a list of all the awesome stuff I’m supposed to be good at so I can go home and practice doing it. I figure it’ll take me at least the rest of the month, so I was contemplating the loss of my social life.” Her teasing tone took the sting from her words.

There was the sharp wit Jericho was used to. Without thinking, he reached across the center console and threaded his fingers through hers. She turned to look at him, her surprise written all over her face.

“Whoa! Moving a little fast aren’t you, big brother?” Abby looked from Suri to Jericho, her suspicions written all over her face. “You guys seem weirdly comfortable together. Why don’t you bring her to brunch tomorrow? Ma’s been after you to get married for years.”

As far as Jericho was concerned, their mother’s expectations were the last item on his agenda. He’d gotten over those years ago. But he could see the apprehension seep into Suri’s gaze. “Abby, shut up.”

His little sister’s mouth snapped closed with an audible click of her teeth. She retreated to a corner of the backseat. He could see her pouting in his rearview mirror.

Using his thumb, he rubbed Suri’s palm. Her hand trembled against his. Thankfully, the steering wheel hid what was happening in his crotch, because having her this close was driving him crazy. Her light feminine scent filled the cab of his truck. The plain jeans and fitted sweater she wore accented her curves, her left breast close enough that he could have brushed the back of his hand against its softness.

Slowing in front of the three-story brownstone, he pulled up to the curb. The tires on his truck made it too wide to fit down the narrow driveway on the side of the house.

Suri was absorbing every detail. This was where he’d grown up after coming to live with his mother as a boy.

Abby was already bouncing out of the truck. “Come in and say hi to my ma, Ms. Robertson.”

Suri was obviously undecided at first. Then her eyes suddenly took on a certain mischievous gleam Jericho was starting to become all too familiar with. “I think I could spare just a few minutes to say hello.”

Now it was Jericho’s turn to be apprehensive. He was suddenly, painfully, aware of how little the three of them really knew about each other. Still, if they were going to make it work, there was only one way to do it. “Hang on, and I’ll help you down after I help Abby with her cello. She’ll kill herself trying to lift that thing out of the bed.”

He strode around to the back of his truck. By the time Jericho made it around the truck, Abby had lowered the tailgate and was trying to reach her instrument. “Would you get down?” He reached in and pulled her case out.

“You like her. I can tell.”

Everything was still so black-and-white with her. Jericho wished he could explain. But that would have been a disaster. “Look. I do like her. A lot. More than you could possibly understand. But things aren’t that simple. People don’t just up and get married when they like each other. She’s got a life too, you know. Responsibilities, people who count on her.” He tapped the end of Abby’s nose. “Just like me.”

“You better bring her to brunch on Saturday.” Abby’s expression settled into the dogged look of determination that had heralded almost all of her life’s achievements.

Leaving Abby to lug her cello around to the front of the house, Jericho went to get Suri’s door. He tried to calm the nerves in his gut as he swung it open. He held out his arms, and she slid willingly into them. It felt so good to hold her close. She smelled amazing. He hadn’t realized how deeply her essence was ingrained in his senses. “Are you sure about this?”

“You know, I am. Doesn’t mean I’m not terrified, but I want to meet your mother.”

“That sounds pretty serious.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, but she didn’t look as if she minded.

“I think we’ve already gone way past the point of seriousness, Jericho.”

She was right. He took her hand gently in his and brought her knuckles to his lips. Keeping her close, he took a deep breath and walked up to his mother’s front door.

There was no waiting for the doorbell this week. Abby already had it wide open. “Ma! Jericho and Ms. Robertson are here!”

Suri gave Abby’s transparent excitement a once-over. “You know, I think I would have expected any sister of yours to be a little less exuberant.”

“She got all the flair,” Jericho teased.

“Holy cow. He’s flirting.” Abby leaped over the cello she’d left just inside the front door. “Ma! Jericho is flirting with her! I told you they’d like each other.”

Suri pressed her face against his arm to stifle a laugh. “I think she’s more dramatic than Dante.”

“Wait, you know Dante?” Abby’s face registered shock just as Jericho’s mother came around the corner from the kitchen.

“Ms. Robertson! It’s so wonderful to see you again. Please come in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

Nobody could ever accuse his mother of lacking hospitality. Or of being rude, though she glanced down with obvious surprise at the two of them holding hands.

“I can sit for just a few moments, but thank you, no, on the drink.” Suri’s tone was gracious, a perfect match in politeness. “I have a few other errands to run this evening.”

They all took seats in the living room, Suri and Jericho on the stiff sofa and his mother in a wingback chair. He wondered what Suri made of the perfectly detailed colonial style in the room. The furniture fabrics matched the pillows, drapes, wallpaper, carpet, and even the knickknacks. It looked like a Martha Stewart layout, probably because his mother worshipped the woman.

“I’m sure Jericho would be happy to drive you wherever you need to go this afternoon,” his mother offered.

“Thanks, Maggie, but I wouldn’t want to monopolize his time like that. He’s just giving me a ride to work.” Suri was actually giving him a cheeky smile. The imp. And how was she already on a first-name basis with his mother?

“Our family always has brunch on Saturday mornings, Ms. Robertson. We’d love you to join us. Jericho will be here this week. He’s promised.”

“Has he?”

She was warm and vital by his side, everything he ever could have wanted in a woman. But their relationship wasn’t complete without Dante. It never would be. “I’ve invited Dante as well, Mother.”

His mother looked taken aback. “Oh, well, I suppose that’s fine.”

Suri didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d love to come. I can’t resist a chance to eat brunch with two handsome men.”

“Do you…know…Dante, Ms. Robertson?”

“Please call me Suri, Maggie. All of my closest friends do.”

Jericho had to hand it to her. He had never seen his mother look so positively blindsided. She was scrambling to find her conversational stride. “So, brunch Saturday morning at ten…Suri?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Thank you so much for including me.” Suri stood up, tugging him with her. “But I do need to get my errands taken care of, so I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Of course.” His mother shot to her feet. “Abby, would you see them out?”

Abby’s expression was skeptical. Jericho knew she wouldn’t last long without knowing what was going on. He wondered how to explain. Where could he even begin? Suri was her music teacher. He didn’t want to do anything to damage that bond between the two of them.

“Abby, I’ll see you Saturday. All right?” Suri hugged his younger sister and then glanced meaningfully at him. “I’ll meet you in the truck?”

Before he realized how it would look to Abby, Jericho brushed the backs of his fingers over Suri’s cheek. She caught his hand and kissed it before walking toward the door.

“Either you’re moving really, really fast or you’re not telling me something.” Abby crossed her arms and stared daggers at him.

“Look, Abs, I know it’s confusing. I do know her. Quite well, actually. I had no idea she was your music teacher.”

“But we’ve been talking about her for weeks!” Abby exploded.

“Never by name.”

Abby opened her mouth to argue and then snapped it closed without a sound.

“I know it’s weird.” He tugged a loose curl. “But at least you have the satisfaction of knowing you were right on. We’re definitely perfect for each other.”
As long as you’re willing to accept Dante into the equation.

Abby didn’t look convinced. “See you Saturday, then, I guess.”

“All three of us. I promise.”

He waited for Abby to disappear inside the house before heading back to the truck. How was it he could know every erogenous hot spot on this woman’s body and not know she was his baby sister’s music teacher?

Suri was curled up in the passenger seat when he climbed back inside. Jericho searched for the perfect thing to say to diffuse any awkwardness, but that wasn’t his forte. Putting people at ease was Dante’s thing.

She beat him to it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Suri—”

“I feel like we’ve been over this a million times, but that is my name. Suri, I mean. My mother didn’t like to be reminded of my dad, so she never called me by my name. I was Jen Robertson almost my whole life, but Suri is the name that makes me feel—I don’t know…”

“Alive?” he offered.

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She was obviously thinking. Her gaze was riveted on the scenes whipping by the window. He was happy enough to let her be, except he didn’t know where they were going.

“You said you had errands to run, right?” He glanced over and was glad to see her beginning to relax. “I don’t mind driving, but it helps to have a destination in mind.”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “I need to go see my mother.”

“Okay.”

“She’s down near Roslindale at Our Lady of Perpetual Hope.”

He got in the right lane, heading for the expressway and South Boston. He’d been in and around Dorchester, Roslindale, and Southie long enough that he had a pretty good idea where they were headed.

Since he had the opportunity, he wanted to tell her about his family. She needed to know she wasn’t the only one with a screwed up family. “Abby is my half sister.”

He expected her to make a joke about his sister’s side of the family having all the liveliness. She didn’t. Her expression suggested she was waiting for him to continue. Instead of leaning away, she inched toward the center console and focused on him.

Jericho took a moment to organize his history. “My mother grew up here in Boston but decided to do an exchange program for graduate school. She met my father while studying in Bristol. He was from Wales. They had a whirlwind romance, got married, and finished school.” To Suri’s credit, she didn’t look as enthralled by the romantic tale as the last person he’d told. “She figured they’d live in Bristol or move to London. He wanted to go back to Wales. They argued, he won, I was born, and she’d had it before I was a year old.”

“She
left
you there?” Suri’s expression was a mixture of shock and disgust.

“They divorced. Welsh law is as crooked as everything else in Wales. But Da had a large family to take care of me, and she was moving back here to Boston to live with parents who were already angry with her for making what they considered to be a ridiculous life choice.”

Jericho had told this story to three people. Dante knew and so did Abby. Now he’d told Suri. He’d spent so many years plagued by the notion that he was inferior somehow. At times, he still felt as though he couldn’t trust anyone enough to build a relationship. He suspected Suri suffered from the same hang-up. So did Dante. Maybe that was the thing that made them work.

“How long have you been in Boston?” Her soft voice brought him back to the moment. He turned off the expressway into Dorchester.

“Da died in a mining accident when I was thirteen. We’d lost my grandparents three years before that. The odd thing was that Da went to school to be a white-collar guy. He wasn’t a miner. He was an inspector. It didn’t save him from dying in the same way his ancestors had for decades.”