Michael's Father

“Everything’s right in the vineyards? With the crew?”

“Everything’s great, sir.”

As well as being a tireless worker, Blake Austin always treated Salvatore with respect. Over the past few years, Blake had become almost one of the family, yet he still called Salvatore “sir” or “Mr. Messina.” Blake was respectful, faithful, and knew when to mind his own business. The perfect employee. Salvatore didn’t receive that kind of treatment from his own grandchildren. He glanced over his shoulder at the yellow Mustang.

Would Corinne offer an apology as due to the head of the family? It didn’t matter who was right or wrong, the younger deferred to the elder if she wanted to make peace. He didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t ask his forgiveness.

Salvatore Messina bid Blake good-night and moved stiffly up the steps as the spring shadows deepened the sky.

BLAKE STEPPED into the mudroom in his house at the back of the Messina property. Lately, it seemed that every day sapped his energy, but seeing Cori had unexpectedly drained him. Blake removed his muddy boots, grateful that the day was nearly over, grateful to be on his own turf. The small, two-story house belonged to Messina Vineyards, but Blake and Jennifer called it home.

The steamy smells of dinner drifted out to him, taunting him with the promise of welcome. He hesitated before entering the kitchen. Out in the mudroom, it was easier for Blake to believe that he and Jennifer were still close. Prepared to tackle the final duty of the day, he took a deep breath and entered the brightly lit kitchen, stocking feet treading softly on the hardwood floor.

Jennifer bustled about the kitchen counter while MTV blared from the small television on top of the refrigerator. Blake noticed immediately that, as dinners went, it wasn’t much—hamburger with noodles, a green salad, canned pears and wheat toast. Jen wasn’t much of a cook, but at least she made a lot of food. He washed his hands with dish soap in the sink, and then he switched the television to a channel with news and lowered the volume in the hopes that they might actually have a conversation.

“What? No vegetables?” Blake teased as he surveyed the food Jennifer dished onto foam plates.

“Sliced bell pepper on the salad. The sauce on the noodles is red, so it must have tomato in it.” Jen rolled her gray eyes, but didn’t smile or look at him as she carried the plates to the table. She never made eye contact with Blake anymore, unless she was angry. He wished he knew what to say or do to make her smile at him again, to share that special camaraderie he’d once taken for granted.

“Tomato is a fruit.” Blake eyed the three slices of bell pepper she’d referred to that miraculously garnished the top of his salad, not hers, before he delivered the milk to the table.

“So you say.” She took her place on one of the old wooden kitchen chairs. The one by the telephone. Undoubtedly, she hoped it would ring during dinner.

That’s when Blake noticed that four pear halves graced his plate. She had one. Not only that, but barely any salad or hamburger with noodles sat on her plate. He clenched his jaw. It didn’t matter that Jen thought she knew how to take care of herself. She didn’t. At this rate, the school would be calling him to say she had an eating disorder. Maybe they weren’t as close as they’d once been, but that didn’t mean Blake wasn’t still responsible for her.

Snatching a small bag of carrots from the refrigerator, Blake poked his finger through the plastic and tossed some onto Jen’s plate. Then he ladled another helping of hamburger mixture on top of what she’d originally taken. He couldn’t stop himself from tossing a slice of bell pepper from his own salad onto her greens, as well.

“That ought to help balance the food groups for you.”

Jen uttered a teenage sound of disgust.

“And make you regular,” Blake added for good measure.

“Gross.” She prodded her food for a moment, then sighed and started to eat.

Disaster averted, Blake slid into his seat and picked up a fork even though he was no longer hungry. Sophia’s illness was hitting him harder than he’d expected. It was as if he were losing his parents all over again—only this time he was losing Jen, too. How many more years would it be before he came home to an empty house?

They ate in quiet efficiency, with newscasters filling the silence between them and, for once, no telephone calls. Blake wasn’t sure anymore if Jennifer’s silence was due to teenage angst or sorrow for Sophia. He just knew he couldn’t fill it.

As they were cleaning up, Blake asked, “Want to watch some TV?” He needed a distraction; otherwise he’d worry about things he didn’t want to, like Jen, Sophia and Cori.

Jennifer grunted.

“I guess that means no.” Blake tried to hide his disappointment as he took a chocolate candy bar—his cure for the blues—out of the refrigerator and trudged into the living room. Maybe when Jen went up to her room, he’d flip through one of his parenting books.

Other than the school pictures of Jennifer on the fireplace mantel, the living room hadn’t changed since they’d moved in. There was a small television on a stand, a large green sectional sofa and two glass-topped coffee tables planted on a blue carpet—all castoffs from the last time Sophia remodeled the main house.

Blake slouched into the couch with his remote, expecting to be alone the rest of the evening. Miraculously, Jen hung out in the doorway.

“Star Trek? ESPN?” he offered, afraid that the tiny ray of hope welling inside him would be extinguished if he put too much faith in it.

Jen shrugged, poised awkwardly in the hall.

With a click of a button, ESPN’s upbeat theme song filled the room. Then an announcer launched into the day’s sports scores. Sports were easy. You played within the rules and won or lost. Not like parenting. The rules of parenting changed as the child aged.

“We had a substitute teacher in English today. Man, was she messed up.” Jen warmed to her story and relaxed her shoulders against the wall, her face lighting up. “Some of the kids switched seats and pretended to be someone else.”

Blake noticed all of this out of the corner of his eye. Caution kept him from looking directly at her until he deciphered her mood.

“By the end of the period, she didn’t know who was who.”

Blake’s eyes landed on Jen’s face in a blink. She was smiling. Her demeanor fairly shouted for approval. Blake passed the remote control from one hand to the other.

Let it go. Jennifer was reaching out to him. He should just smile, pat the couch next to him and share in her harmless little prank. But Blake remembered what it was like to be twelve, had once been on the path to becoming a destructive, unchecked teen himself. That had been in junior high school, while his mom struggled to keep them off welfare. Too tired each night to do much more than ask her wayward son about his day, Blake had become something of a campus hellion. When she finally found out the truth about what a bully Blake had become, through a visit to the principal’s office the day he was suspended, the sorrow and disappointment in her tears combined with a transfer to a new school helped straighten him out.

“Did you go along with it?” His words came out in a low growl and his chin dropped until it almost touched his chest, his eyes on his sister.

Jen’s expression crumbled. She sniffed, then drew belligerence around her like a cloak. “So what if I did? There’s no harm done.”

“That’s not an answer. I think you know how I expect you to behave.”

Hostile eyes stared right back at him. That was new. She hadn’t been able to hold his stern gaze before. The realization that he was losing control of her ignited his temper.

“Jennifer Louise,” he warned, sitting up straighter.

“You expect better from me, don’t you.” Her eyes flashed.

Blake’s eyes widened. A frontal attack. This, too, was new.

“You know I do.” Blake realized he should leave her alone, but he couldn’t. “Like today. You were rude to Cori Sinclair and that boy.” Blake uttered the last word distastefully.

“As if they care about me.” Arms crossed guardedly over her chest.

Why did she have to take everything so personally? As if the world were out to get her?

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you treat people with respect.” He stood, trying to regain some control over the situation. Over her. “Especially to those in the Messina household.”

“You act like we’re second-class citizens. Everything is about the Messinas. Like they’re royalty or something.”

“Look at all they’ve done for us.” He spread his arms and gestured around the room. “How they opened up their home to us.”

“We’ll never be allowed in the house again after Sophia dies.” Jen’s brows pulled disdainfully low.

Blake eyed her in disbelief. “Is that what this is about? Your room? She’s dying, Jen. How much more selfish can you be?”

“I must be such a disappointment to you.” Her face reddened while her arms clutched herself tighter. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve finished college. And you’d be somewhere…else.”

For a moment, two pairs of gray eyes clashed. It was true. Blake resented the fact that responsibility for his sister had been thrust upon him, and still felt inferior working in a world where everyone had a degree except him.