Michael's Father

Blake didn’t remember it that way. He only remembered the rejection. For a moment, he wondered if he’d mistaken her meaning years ago. But he’d never had the chance to find out. She’d eventually fallen into the arms of another man.

“You never came back.”

“No.” The word signaled the end of the conversation. “I had Michael and that’s all that mattered.”

That’s all that mattered to her. She didn’t seem to care about how her actions affected others, saddened them or ripped them apart inside.

“You don’t come home for the holidays.” Having his family torn from him left Blake with this need to set down and foster roots, kept him here with the Messinas, who’d become a second family to him and Jennifer. Blake would do anything for them.

“I let them down.”

How could she have disappointed the Messinas? She’d been the dutiful granddaughter—once—until she met somebody who changed her mind. Someone other than Blake.

“And you’ve been raising him alone?” He’d have bet money Cori would have come right back to the family’s money and security. He knew firsthand that raising a child was too difficult to do alone if you didn’t have to.

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe? That I could make it on my own without my family?” She laughed but the sound lacked humor. “You must really think I’m something special.” She stood up, her face still unreadable in the gray shadows. “Sleep well, Blake.”

But Blake knew sleep would elude him.

CORI SLIPPED INTO HER mother’s room and lowered herself carefully onto the bed. Soft light from the hallway crept across the thick carpet, casting her mother’s gaunt face in shadow. Luke dozed on the sofa on the far side of the room, his stocking feet dangling over the edge of the sofa’s arm. Gently, Cori drew the covers on the bed up around Mama’s thin shoulders, tucking her in, in much the same way she did Michael every night. Seeing her mother asleep and unmoving, Cori was sure she was losing her battle with cancer.

Cori smoothed the blankets along the edge of the bed, unwilling to leave her mother’s side. She could still hear Blake’s tone, full of condemnation, his words ripe with disbelief. After her confrontation with her grandfather, Cori had needed some reassurance that she’d done the right thing by keeping Blake’s fatherhood from him. For years, the secret had chipped away at her conscience. Irrationally, she’d wanted some sign from Blake that her decision had been for the best, that she should continue to guard her secret. So, she’d walked down to the Russian River in the foggy darkness.

Her conversation with Blake had been much like their talks that first summer. The intimacy of the night. Questions asked that one wouldn’t dare ask in the daylight. She’d wanted to tell him about Michael, had even started to gather her courage. Then, sensing Blake’s disappointment in her, the fragile mood between them collapsed. Just as her world seemed to be.

“You’re worried about something.” Sophia spoke softly, her eyes still closed as if she lacked the strength to open them. “I could always tell when you were worried, by how carefully you paid attention to what you were doing.”

“I’m a mother. I worry about everything.” Cori hoped her voice sounded lighter than she felt.

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

How long will you be here? The question paralyzed Cori’s thoughts, and she fell silent. She wouldn’t accept her mother was dying, despite the evidence in front of her.

Sophia sighed, then opened her eyes. “You’re wondering why I’m not in a hospital.”

Cori’s hand slipped under the blanket and found her mother’s. It was such a small, fragile hand. “Ye-es.” Cori’s thin acknowledgment cracked, the word as brittle as her fears.

“There comes a time when you have to decide, Cori. And I realized it was my time to stop fighting.”

Closing her eyes, Cori turned her head toward the hallway, away from this reality. “The doctors can’t do anything for you?”

“The doctors can ease my pain or they can continue to attack the cancer. Either way is a losing battle.”

Cori bit her lip, trying to hold herself together. “Why don’t you have a nurse?” They could afford an army of nurses.

“No nurses. No doctors. No tubes or shots. Just my family and my home.” Mama squeezed Cori’s hand.

“How long?” Cori closed her eyes against her tears. “How long have you known?”

“I found out the cancer metastasized right after Christmas.”

It was now late February. Her mother had kept the illness hidden from her for nearly two months. The guilt was almost as debilitating as the truth she wouldn’t accept. Cori’s hand crept to her throat. She had to know more.

“When did you decide to…?” Die. Cori couldn’t say the word aloud. To do so was to admit defeat. “To stop fighting?”

“When I asked you to come home and you said yes. They took all the tubes out of me after I hung up. Blake brought me home from the hospital that same day.”

How was Cori supposed to deal with that? Her mother had given up because Cori had agreed to come home. In need of a distraction, she opened her eyes and focused on her mother’s last words.

“Blake took you home?”

“Blake and Jennifer are so supportive. They spent quite a bit of time with me at the hospital. Blake has some spare time until bud break.”

Spare time? Every month was busy in the vineyard. January and February were filled with pruning and replanting damaged stock. February sometimes offered a few weeks of respite until the warmer weather coaxed buds to open on the vine. Maybe Blake relied on the other staff to cover for him while he helped Sophia.

No. Cori doubted Blake had much, if any, spare time.

“What about Luke and Grandpa?” Cori cast a glance back at her sleeping brother, snoring softly on the couch.

“Lucas and Father have been focusing on the business. We’re introducing internationally, you know.” Sophia’s voice sounded drowsy.

“I didn’t know,” Cori murmured. She couldn’t do anything about her grandfather’s absence from Sophia’s life, but she was going to take Luke to task for having his priorities screwed up. His saving grace was the fact that he guarded Mama through the night.

“Do you have regular checkups, Corinne?” Sophia’s eyes opened and fixed wearily on Cori. “That’s very important.”

Momentarily consumed with fear when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited the doctor, Cori could only stare blankly at her mother. When she blinked, her memory returned.

Last summer. She’d been to the doctor last summer and everything was okay. And then came the awful thought: Who would take care of Michael if something happened to me?

“Honesty is important, too. I wish I had been honest with your father. Maybe then he’d have stayed with me. You don’t ever see your father, do you?”

“No.” Cori drew back. John Sinclair wasn’t discussed in the Messina household. He didn’t call or send birthday cards. He’d walked out of their lives about twenty years ago and never looked back. Did her mother know that Salvatore had paid John Sinclair to marry her? And most likely paid him to leave?

“It’s too bad that you don’t see your father. I’ve always regretted losing touch. A child needs a father. You should tell him, for Michael’s sake.”

Struggling to follow her mother’s logic, Cori asked, “Tell John Sinclair?”

“No. Tell Blake he has a son.”

Cori forced herself to breathe normally. She couldn’t read her mother’s expression; her eyes were closed again. Cori peeked at Luke to make sure he still slept. Finally, she asked, “How long have you known?”

“I suspected all along, but couldn’t really see it until today. Michael looks less like a baby and more like a little Austin.” Sophia moved her head listlessly as if trying to get comfortable. “Blake’s a good man. He deserves to know the truth no matter what your reasons for keeping it from him.”

Cori wanted—at times needed—to tell Blake, but she doubted Blake would want to keep his fatherhood a secret. He was a proud, honorable man who’d want Michael to call him Dad. In which case, Cori didn’t think she could protect Blake from her grandfather.

“WELL, IF IT ISN’T Sleeping Beauty,” Blake greeted Cori with sarcasm at the door to Sophia’s bedroom the next morning. He checked his watch. “Nine o’clock. Kind of early for you, isn’t it?” He slouched farther in the flowery chair, stretching his jean-clad legs toward Sophia’s bed frame. He should be out in the vineyards. But not wanting Sophia to be alone, he’d waited for Cori to appear.

Sophia either didn’t catch or ignored the dig in Blake’s greeting. “She certainly looks lovely today.” From Sophia’s smile, it seemed the sight of Cori made her happy—while it confused, irritated and hurt Blake.