by Lisa Jackson
“Naw. We just had a soda downtown,” Katie said as Tiffany set Christina onto the floor and the little girl barreled out of the room. The sound of small footsteps scurrying up the stairs reached Bliss’s ears. Katie made an idle gesture with one hand. “I thought it was time we all got together.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, too,” Tiffany admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. She fiddled with the chain on her watch. “I know I should have said something the other day when you, Bliss, came looking for Mason, but . . . well, you took me by surprise and I didn’t know what to say. Then, as the days passed, I decided I didn’t have to do anything until I was ready.”
“Or someone forced your hand,” Katie said with a shrug.
Tiffany nodded and splayed her fingers in front of her. “Look, I believe in telling it like it is, so to speak, and I’ve got to tell you straight-out that I don’t like what’s happening.”
“You’re not the only one.” Bliss was so uncomfortable, she wanted to climb out of her skin and disappear. Instead, she sat on one of the cushions in the window seat overlooking a side yard filled with heavy-blossomed roses and a rusting swing set.
Katie plopped onto the couch. “Have you made any decisions yet?” she asked Tiffany as she ran a finger around the stitching on one arm. “About the wedding? You know that Dad—or John, or whatever it is I’m supposed to call him—really wants you to come to the ceremony.”
“I got the invitation. And he called. But I don’t think so. You know, just because he’s had a change of heart, or some kind of personal epiphany or whatever it is, I can’t just forget all the years that I didn’t know of him.” She wasn’t smiling and looked as if her mind was cast in concrete. Bliss suspected that no one pushed Tiffany Santini around.
Katie was just as stubborn. “I can’t make up your mind for you, but—”
“No buts about it. I’m not going. And you’re right—you can’t make up my mind for me.”
Amen, Bliss thought, but Katie, forever the steamroller, plunged forward. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we all tried, if possible, to bury the hatchet, so to speak?”
Tiffany lifted an already-arched brow. “Why?” “Family unity. Solidarity. All that stuff.”
Bliss’s stomach clenched.
“Solidarity,” Tiffany repeated with a little cough. “Family unity. That’s rich.” With determination flashing in her dark eyes, she settled onto the ottoman of one of the overstuffed chairs. “Let’s understand each other. You want to go, Katie, because, after all, your mother and father are finally getting married. And Bliss”—she turned those wary eyes in her middle sister’s direction—“it makes sense for you.”
“But not you?” Bliss asked, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt.
“No, not me, and I don’t think I really have to explain myself.”
“Why don’t you try,” Katie suggested.
A flash of anger flitted through the eldest’s eyes. “Okay, if that’s what you want. It’s been hard for me, okay? And all this nearly killed Mom. She lied at first, told me my dad was dead. I guess that way she thought I wouldn’t feel so abnormal, but the truth of the matter was that I was born illegitimate, unwanted by a father who preferred another woman over my mother.”
“No!” Bliss gasped. “Dad didn’t know Mom until after—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Tiffany held out her hands to cut off Bliss’s protest. “Katie asked and I just answered truthfully. I think there’ve been enough lies as it is.”
Bliss gulped. It was time to leave. Past time. Obviously, Tiffany didn’t have any of Katie’s need for family unity.
But Tiffany wasn’t finished. “I know what the local story is. My grandmother filled me in. It goes something like my mother didn’t love John Cawthorne, didn’t want to marry him. Nor did he want her. I was the result of a fling.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Anyway, for all my mom’s tough words, I learned later from my grandmother that it about killed her when he married a rich woman from San Francisco, a woman of breeding, so to speak, and then you came along and were treated like a princess.”
Heat soared up Bliss’s cheeks and for a second, hot tears touched the back of her eyelids.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Tiffany added, as if she could see the pain ripping through her half-sister. “But you two asked. The way I see it is that my mother struggled to raise me, and she taught me never to depend upon a man—any man. She never married, refused to even date much, and was of the opinion that most men were rats or even worse. When things got tight, there was Grandma to depend upon.”
“Aunt Octavia,” Katie clarified. “She’s not everyone’s aunt but everyone calls her that, and she is Tiffany’s grandmother.”
“Yep, and she somehow helped keep my mother sane, I swear, during those . . . well, the rough years.”
Bliss rubbed her sweating palms on her pants. “You mean when Dad married Mother?”
“Yeah. But I thought it was because my dad had died.” Tiffany nodded and plucked at the fringe on the cushion of the ottoman. “Anyway, she got over it—at least I thought she did. Then, when I married Philip, she nearly didn’t come to the wedding. He was older, and Mom was certain he was a father figure to me, the only father I’d ever known. She read all sorts of self-help books and told me that I was mixing up love and security and—Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you didn’t come here to hear my life story, so put away the violins and handkerchiefs. I’m not really bitter, just not interested in the prospect of dealing with a dad I’ve never known.”
“But you live in the same town as him. It seems silly to ignore your own father.” Katie was nothing if not dogged.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Tiffany retorted. “He never was my father. It takes more than getting someone pregnant to earn that title.” She glanced out the window, then added, “Maybe that’s a selfish way to look at it, but too bad. As for John Cawthorne’s wedding—what’s that all about? Brynnie’s said those supposedly sacred words more times than anyone should. I think they should run off and elope. Have some kind of reception when they get back.” Hearing herself, she rolled her eyes. “Like I care.”
“You might more than you want to admit,” Katie ventured.
Before Tiffany could answer, the front door flew open. Thud! The doorknob banged hard against the wall.
“Stephen?” Tiffany was on her feet in an instant.
“Yeah?” a voice cracked, and in the foyer a boy in his early teens appeared. His hair was black and shaggy, his brown eyes filled with distrust. Every visible muscle appeared tense, as if he expected to make a run for it at any moment. He would be handsome in a few years, Bliss supposed, when his jaw had become more defined and his face had caught up with his nose.
“I think you’d better meet someone,” Tiffany said, taking his tense arm and propelling him into the parlor. “This is Bliss Cawthorne. John’s daughter.”
His eyes narrowed. “Another one? Cawthorne? You mean ‘the princess’—”
“Actually, she’s my half-sister,” Tiffany said quickly, as if to cut off whatever derogatory comment he was about to make. “She’s lived in Seattle with John and his wife.”
The princess. The second time she’d heard it in a few minutes. So that was what they’d called her behind her back, what they really thought. Why had she so stupidly agreed to come here? Because Katie had practically shanghaied her, that was why.
Stephen’s gaze was positively condemning. “Oh.” He didn’t say anything for a few long seconds, but Bliss was instantly embarrassed that she was the legitimate daughter, the one who bore her father’s name, the odd woman out, so to speak. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one?” he finally whispered, sarcasm lacing his words. “What do you want from—”
“Don’t, okay? Just don’t say it,” Tiffany warned.
Tossing a hank of black hair out of his eyes, Stephen shifted from one dirty sneaker to the other. “So, can I
go now?”
“May I, but sure.”
Bliss could almost feel the boy’s relief.
Tiffany let go of his arm. As he bounded up the stairs two at a time, he didn’t give his mother or her guests so much as a backward glance.
“I think it’s time I got back,” Bliss said, standing. She saw a movement through the window and spied Dee Dee, Mason’s daughter, sitting in a patio chair. Wearing cutoff jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, she lazed, one foot resting on the opposite bare knee as she flipped through a magazine and petted a black cat that was curled up in her lap.
The girl seemed pensive and slightly sad, Bliss thought.
Glancing at her watch, Katie scowled, tiny lines forming across her forehead. “Oops. You’re right. I’ve got to scoot and pick up Josh from his friend’s house so that I can get him to baseball practice. Well, uh, gee, I really don’t know what to say, except maybe thanks for letting us come by and bend your ear,” she said to Tiffany.
“No problem.” Tiffany walked to the door, but didn’t ask them to return as they stepped onto the porch. “And just for the record, tell your father that if he wants to talk to me, he can call himself, or stop by—not that I have any interest in dealing with him. But I think it was underhanded to send you two.”
“It wasn’t his idea,” Katie assured her. “It was mine.” Tiffany didn’t reply, just arched a disbelieving brow as she closed the door.
“Boy, that was a good idea,” Bliss mocked.
“What do you mean? I think it went well, all things considered.” Together, Katie and Bliss walked beneath the shade trees and around the corner of the main house, where Bliss caught another glimpse of Mason’s daughter.
“Are you kidding?” Bliss couldn’t believe her ears and decided right then and there that Katie Kinkaid was an eternal and somewhat-myopic optimist.
“I suspect that deep down she likes you,” Katie added.
“Oh, right.”
“I mean it.”
“Then I’d hate to see how she treats an enemy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Katie slid a pair of sunglasses onto her short nose. “If there is a problem, and, for the record I don’t think there is, you’ll win her over. It’ll just take time.” She opened the car door, but Bliss hesitated.
“Just give me a second, okay?”
“What for?” Katie glanced at her watch.
“I’ll only take a minute.” Bliss was already heading along a path winding through a rose garden and arbor. Butterflies and bees flitted in the air as she turned from the side of the house to the backyard where Dee Dee was still perusing a slick teen magazine.
“Hi,” Bliss ventured, not sure why she wanted to connect with this kid, but knowing deep down that it was important.
Dee Dee looked up, but didn’t smile. “Oh. Hi.”
“Saw you out here reading and thought I’d see what you were up to.”
“Waitin’ for my dad.”
“He’s not here?”
“Naw.” She shrugged as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but a shadow of worry slid through her eyes and Bliss suspected Deanna Lafferty was used to hiding her feelings. “Mom just dropped me off.”
“Is he expecting you?”
Again a lift of one shoulder. “Who knows?”
“Can you get into the house?”
“Tiffany will let me in.” She chewed on her lower lip and looked at the main house. “It’s okay.”
“You’re sure?”
Her expression changed and Bliss read “Yeah, and what’s it to you?” in the set of her jaw. Great, she was making friends left and right today. “I’m fine, okay?”
“Sure. See ya around.” With a wave, Bliss was off and she caught a glimpse of Tiffany at the kitchen window. The pane was open and Tiffany seemed to be washing dishes or something, but Bliss guessed she’d heard the entire exchange. Good. At least Dee Dee had an adult to keep an eye on her.
“What was that all about?” Katie asked, once Bliss had settled into the passenger seat of her car.
“Just checking.”
“On Mason or his daughter?”
“Dee Dee seemed unhappy.”
“Don’t blame her. Terri’s talking about pulling up stakes again, this time to Chicago, and Dee Dee doesn’t want to be so far from her dad.”
“But Mason just moved here.”
“I know.” Katie edged into traffic. “That might be the reason. Terri might not want to be so close to her ex.”
“But it would be best for their daughter to be close to both parents.”
“I’m not judging. Just telling you what could be happening.” Once outside the town limits, Katie lead-footed it, leaving Bittersweet in a trail of dust. She fiddled with the dial on the radio, came up with an oldies station that was playing “Ruby Tuesday” by the Rolling Stones, and while Mick Jagger sang through the speakers, she drove like a maniac past the fields and hills that led back to the ranch. Exhaust spewed from the tailpipe and the wind streamed through Bliss’s hair, but she barely noticed.
Her mind was on Mason’s doe-eyed daughter, and she felt a twinge of remorse that she’d ever been jealous of the sad girl.
“You know,” Katie said, oblivious to the turn of Bliss’s thoughts. “Tiffany’s got her own set of problems, what with J.D. Santini and all.”
“Her . . . brother-in-law, right?”
“One and the same. Kind of a cross between James Dean and the Marquis de Sade, if you ask me.”
“That bad?”
“Well, not really, I suppose. Good-looking, sexy, with an attitude that won’t quit. He’s not cruel, I don’t think, but he’s certainly a thorn in Tiffany’s side. Ever since her husband, who was quite a bit older, died, he’s been calling giving Tiffany advice on how to raise the two kids.”
“I’ll bet she likes that,” Bliss replied with only a trace of derision.
“Not a whole lot, no.”
“I don’t think she’ll be coming to the wedding,” Bliss said.
“Uh-oh.” Katie eased up on the throttle when she spied a sheriff ’s cruiser speeding in the opposite direction. She checked the rearview mirror to make sure the deputy hadn’t decided to make a quick U-turn and tail her. “Oh, she’ll come, all right. I know she appears kind of stuffy and reserved when you first meet her, but trust me, she’ll warm up to you, and if nothing else, curiosity will entice her to the ceremony.”
“I don’t know.” Bliss wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t even sure about Katie’s feelings. “Tiffany seemed to resent me.”
“Of course she does, but she’ll get over it. I already told you I think she’s gonna like you, but give it a little time, will ya? Remember, Bliss, you’re the one kid our father claimed. You grew up privileged, while Tiffany and I had to scrape by. Now, it never really bothered me because I didn’t know that John was my father until a little while ago and we had a big happy, if poor, family, but Tiff, she’s lived with a real downer of a mother who lied to her, and it sounds like now that she knows the truth, her mom’s made no big deal that she’s still bitter about it. Never married. Wouldn’t take a dime of support from John.”
“How do you know this?” Bliss asked, as Katie cranked on the wheel and the convertible rolled into the driveway of the ranch.
“Mom.”
“Brynnie knew?”
“She and John have always been close and I know that probably bothers you, but . . . well, there it is. . . .” Her voice faded as she stared through the bug-spattered windshield. “Uh-oh. What’s going on?”
Bliss had been looking at her half-sister but as she turned she spied an ambulance, its lights still flashing starkly. Parked at an odd angle near the front door of the house, the white-and-orange emergency vehicle loomed before Bliss like a specter. Her heart nearly stopped. “Oh, God. lt’s . . . it’s Dad!” she cried, her throat closing and fear congealing her insides. “He’s had another heart attack!”
“You don’t know anything of the so
rt—” But Katie stepped on the brakes. The convertible skidded to a stop only feet from the ambulance.
Bliss’s heart turned to stone.
Paramedics were wheeling a gurney out of the house. Wheels rattled and creaked, and an ashen-faced John Cawthorne lay on the thin white mattress.
“Dad!” Bliss was out of the car in an instant.
Brynnie, sobbing hysterically, was following close behind the gurney and Oscar was yapping and bounding, confused by all the activity. Horses and cattle grazed lazily, unaffected by all the human drama, and a few of the ranch hands were standing around, grim-faced, their hands in their pockets, their cheeks bulging with chewing tobacco. From somewhere—probably the dash of the ambulance—a radio crackled and the entire scene seemed surreal. Bliss’s legs felt like lead as she ran toward her father. Her heart was beating a dread-filled cadence and her eyes burned with tears she didn’t dare shed.
“What happened? Is he all right? Where are you taking him?” she asked, surprised she wasn’t shrieking.
“Slow down and stay out of the way.” The shorter paramedic sliced her a look that brooked no argument. “We’re taking him in to town, the medical center. If the doctors there think he needs more specific care, he’ll be transported to the hospital in Medford.”
The hospital. Mom had died in Seattle General. Dad had nearly lost his life, as well. “Oh, my God.”
“He’s gonna be all right,” Katie predicted, but beneath her freckles her skin had turned the color of the sheets draping her father’s thin body.
Let him be all right, Bliss silently prayed as she grabbed one of John’s hands.
“Please, miss, stand aside,” the round paramedic with thinning blond hair ordered. Bliss stepped back and let her father’s fingers slide through her own.
“I’m his daughter,” Bliss said.
“So am I,” Katie added.
“Just stand back and let the men do their jobs.” Mason was striding from the front porch. Bliss’s gaze touched his and she saw fear in his eyes; fear and something else—something deeper and more personal. He looked so big, his shoulders so wide. His jaw was tense, his expression hard and determined.
