“Okay. I'm sorry I woke you up. I just really needed to talk,” he apologized.
“Don't apologize, baby. I'm glad you called. I'm sorry that I can't be there for you right now.”
“You were here for me,” Cory said after a slight pause. “Sweet dreams, baby.”
“Goodnight.”
*****
The next day, Cory sat in the passenger seat of Noah's 2013 mahogany-colored Porche Panamera as he looked out the window and studied the house. It was small and sort of run down. But the neighboring houses were all in a similar condition, so Charles Dutton's place didn't stand out at all. Cory took a deep breath as he took it all in. He knew that he had to get out of the car. Noah had driven all this way; he couldn't ask him to turn around and go back because he chickened out. Could he?
“Listen, thanks again for coming, you guys,” he said quietly as he turned to look first at Noah, and then at Otis, who sat in the back seat. “I really appreciate it.”
“It's no problem, man,” Noah responded. Then he studied his friend for a minute and said, “You know, if you want to just go … that's okay too.”
Cory looked at him and smirked. It was just like Noah to read his mind. “No,” he sighed. “I need to do this. I don't know how long I'll be though.”
“Don't worry about it, brother, just take your time,” Otis said. “We'll be here.”
Cory nodded his head and turned to look at the house once more. He didn't even know if the man was in there. He could very well have dragged his friends out here for nothing. He took another deep breath before he pulled on the handle and opened the car door. Then he stepped out, closing the door behind him as he stood across the street and studied the house some more.
Noah glanced around out the windows when Cory finally started walking toward the house.
“Wishing we had brought Big Bo with us?” Otis joked as he stretched out across the back seat, referring to one of their regular security detail, and Noah laughed at his comment.
“It's not exactly a charming neighborhood, that's for sure,” he quietly agreed.
Cory crossed the street at a slow, steady pace. Should he really do this? Maybe he should have listened to Donna. Maybe Charles Dutton didn't want to see him. Maybe he only sent the letters to try and alleviate his own guilt, and Cory should just leave well enough alone. He told himself all these things as he made his slow march to the front door. And he hesitated a beat before he reached out and rang the bell. He felt his breathing quicken and his heartbeat accelerate as he waited. He wrung his hands together when he realized they were sweating, and he turned to glance back at Noah and Otis in the waiting car. It was taking a while. Perhaps there was no one home? Should he ring the bell again or simply turn to leave?
He was about to do the latter when he suddenly heard barking and a noise behind the door. It opened abruptly and an unshaven, scruffy middle-aged man frowned impatiently at him while the gray and white pit bull continued to bark, but never offered to bolt from the doorway. The man was unkempt and tousled, dressed in a rumpled pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt. And Cory saw the spark of shock and recognition come to his eyes in an instant as they stared at one another in silence for a long time. Cory had never seen him before. Except in the one ancient family portrait that his mom always kept in the drawer of her nightstand when he was growing up. Cory was a tiny baby in that picture, and he used to sneak peeks at it whenever she wasn't around and he always wondered if he looked like him. Now, it was a strange feeling to see that he shared this man's eyes and his jawline. Idly, he wondered if his mother still had that old photo.
“Hi,” Charles said in stunned disbelief.
“Hi,” Cory answered. His heart was beating furiously, as if it wanted nothing more than to leap out of his chest and go hide.
“C - come on in,” Charles stammered, obviously still in shock, as he opened the door wider. “Hush up, Smokey,” he said quietly, addressing the dog as Cory stepped inside and walked past him. He made his way down the short, narrow hallway with the dog at his feet, sniffing and wagging his tail as Charles followed after them.
The hallway opened up to a small living room with a fireplace. A second hallway shot off to the right, and Cory could see a bedroom as he glanced that way. He moved slowly over to the fireplace and let his eyes roam over the things sitting on the mantle. There were small, framed photographs of Charles and Ellen together, and of Cary and Cat when they were little, wearing matching dresses. And there was a tiny picture of Ellen holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Beside it stood a framed copy of the same family portrait his mother had kept in her nightstand all those years ago. As his eyes moved over the walls, he could see that here were others as well. Old school photos of he and his sisters through the years, and other, more recent ones. There was even a picture of Caroline holding her newborn daughter in the hospital last year. How had he gotten all these pictures? Cory knew immediately that they could have only come from his mother.
“Um, can … can I get you something? I've got a fresh pot of coffee,” Charles offered quietly. And Cory could hear the uncertainty in the older man's voice. “Or water?”
“No. Nothing, thanks,” he said, making eye contact with him.
“Please don't mind the mess,” he said distractedly as he began to pick up old newspapers and magazines from the couch and moved them to the small dining table that sat off to the side. “I wasn't expecting company.”
Cory glanced back at the pictures. The walls were covered with them. As if he were trying to surround himself with the family he had left behind. Cory cleared his throat nervously. “I, uh … I read your letters,” he said quietly, looking back at Charles. “I just got them yesterday. And I read them.”
Charles nodded his head slowly as understanding finally seemed to blossom for him. He licked his lips anxiously as he sat down and motioned for Cory to do the same. “I wasn't sure your mother would ever give them to you.”
Cory walked over to the old, worn and stained, cream-colored couch and took a seat at one end while his father sat at the other. Smokey seemed to take an immediate liking to him and came waddling over to sniff at Cory's hands as he sat. Absentmindedly, he began to pet the dog, scratching his ears as he continued to look around the room. He glanced over at Charles a few times, only to notice that the man was watching him closely, and obviously feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he was.
“I'm sorry,” Cory mumbled. “I'm … I'm not really sure why I came.”
“It's okay,” Charles replied. “I understand. I know you probably have a million questions for me. You have every right to … ask me anything. Tell me anything. Feel free to cuss me out if you need to.”
Cory gave him a half-hearted smile. “I might take you up on that offer in the future,” he said, and Charles nodded. “I guess … the biggest question on my mind right now is … how you knew about my life. When I graduated. When I joined the band and where to come watch us play. And Cary and Cat, you knew about their lives too. I mean, you have pictures here that could only have come from Mom. I don't understand. You two have obviously stayed in touch.”
Charles nodded. “Yes. I asked her at first not to write back. I thought it would be too difficult. But I admit … I'm grateful that she didn't listen.” Then he smiled slightly as he said, “She never did listen to me.”
Cory snorted softly. “She doesn't listen to me either.”
Charles' smile grew bigger, and Cory watched as his eyes softened a bit. “That's my Ellie,” he said softly. “It's not often that she writes. But when she does, it's always full of stories about what the three of you kids are up to. What's going on in your lives. And she sends pictures. I am so grateful for those. But even if she had never written back … I kept pretty good track of your lives on my own. I know it might sound creepy, but I've watched over all four of you ever since I left. I couldn't help it. You're my family, and I love you. I know you probably don't understand this, but leaving was the best way for me to
show you how much.”
“You're right,” Cory said, getting emotional. “I don't understand. I don't understand any of it.”
Charles was silent for a moment as he nodded his head once more. “You don't have to. Just know that I made some mistakes. I made some bad choices. Your mother did too, and we tried to fix them the best we could.”
“Oh, so it's Mom's fault?” Cory said, not able to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“No! That's not what I meant,” Charles said, looking at him sternly. “None of this was ever Ellie's fault. I said she made some bad choices, and she did. In choosing me. In falling in love with me and marrying me.” He paused for a moment as he tried not to get choked up. “But like I said … we tried to fix it as best we could.”
Cory stared at him, stunned, as a notion slowly occurred to him. “You still love her,” he said quietly.
Charles didn't respond for a long moment. Then he nodded his head once more. “With everything in me,” he whispered. “I never stopped. It's been so long now … I know that I never will.”
Cory didn't know what to say. All of his life he suspected that his mother had never gotten over the mystery man who was Charles Dutton. She never remarried. Never even dated anyone that Cory knew of. And now, to learn that Charles had never gotten over her either. But yet, they had spent the last twenty-eight years apart. It was all so crazy. But he figured that was a conversation better left unexplored for now.
“In your last few letters you mentioned that you were holding down a job. Going to Gambler's Anonymous meetings,” Cory said, looking into his eyes. “You still keeping that up?”
Charles nodded slowly. “Yeah. It's a constant struggle though. Like any other addiction, I suppose. And I won't lie to you … I've fallen down more than once. But I keep at it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Now it was Cory's turn to nod. “At least you keep trying,” he offered. There was a long awkward silence between them then, and Cory wasn't sure what else to say. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, “Are you okay? Do you … do you need anything?”
Charles fixed him with a pointed gaze. “Cory, I would never dream of taking anything from you. Or your sisters. Not a single dime, do you hear me? Don't. Ever. Offer. I refuse to drag any of you down that road,” he said sternly.
Cory was taken aback for a moment as he stared at his father. His eyes were burning with impassioned sincerity, and it took Cory's breath away. He nodded silently.
“But I want you to know that I am so proud of the way you look after your mother,” he said as his voice broke. He sniffed and wiped his nose, finally unable to stop the torrent of emotions running through him. “You're a good son to her. You're a good man!”
Cory turned away wiping a few tears of his own. Then he reached to the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a plain white envelope and held it in his hands. “I should get going. But I want you to know that if … if you want to keep writing … you can mail your letters directly to me.” He set the envelope down on the coffee table in front of them and looked up at Charles. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
Cory nodded. “I'll show myself out. It was nice to meet you, Smokey,” he said as he patted the dog's head and stood up.
The dog escorted him down the hall and to the door. And as he heard the door open and close, Charles picked up the envelope and opened it up. Inside he found tickets and backstage passes to all three of Jagged Ivory's upcoming shows in Los Angeles, and a slip of paper with Cory's address and his cellphone number written on it.
Outside, Cory stood for a moment taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. He had done what he came to do. He had looked his father in the eyes and gotten the answers to the questions plaguing his mind. Some of them anyway. He still had so many. But at least now, he had some kind of clue about why he had been forced to grow up without him. And hopefully, they had begun something with this meeting. The building of a bridge perhaps. The start of a friendship, if nothing more. Cory wasn't sure if anything would come of their meeting. But at least he had given Charles an indication that he would be open to more, and he had left the ball squarely in the man's corner with the tickets and his contact information. The rest was up to him now.
He wiped his face with his hands and crossed the street to the waiting car, and he could hear the music blasting before he reached it. Sliding back into the passenger seat, he fastened his seatbelt as Noah turned the music down.
“Hey, how did it go, man?” he asked.
Cory sighed as he turned to look at the Ivory brothers. “I think it went okay,” he shrugged. “We had a good conversation. I left him some tickets and passes to the shows next week. We'll see.”
Otis slapped his shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze as Noah pulled out into traffic and they headed home.
Chapter Nine
Nearly a week of rehearsals and three sold-out stadiums later, Jagged Ivory was riding high as the third leg of their world tour got underway with three nights in Los Angeles. It was always a special treat when they played at home because the crowd and the backstage area was always filled with celebrity fans and family alike. Monroe and Kay Ivory were there for all three shows, as were Ellen Dutton and both of Cory's sisters and their husbands. And when Cory looked up after the first show and spotted Charles walking into the room, he felt the unmistakable flutter of butterflies in his gut.
“He showed,” he said quietly, looking at his mother and sisters. And he was certain that they could hear the shocked surprise in his voice. He saw Charles looking around the dressing room nervously, and he looked as if he might bolt any second. Anxious to get his attention in the crowded space, Cory raised his hand and waved at him. Charles waved back timidly, and Cory gestured for him to join them.
Standing across the room, Charles Dutton could see his entire family watching him with curious eyes. The babies he had left twenty-eight years ago were grown, successful adults. And their mother, his Ellie, she hadn't changed one bit. He felt his hands go clammy and his breathing quickened a pace as he stood looking back at them. This wasn't a photograph, they were real. And they were waiting for him to join them. Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other and made his way over to them. He never thought this day would come.
“Hi,” Cory said nervously, wondering if he should hug or not. He decided on a handshake, and offered the man his hand. He didn't look nearly as scruffy tonight as he had the day they met, Cory noticed. Clean shaven and dressed in a decent pair of jeans and a dress shirt, Charles Dutton didn't look half bad, Cory decided.
Charles took his hand with a small, self-conscious smile. “Hey. It's good to see you again,” he said nervously. “The show was incredible; you were so great out there.”
“Thanks,” Cory smiled. “I'm happy you came.”
“I'm happy you invited me,” he responded. Then he turned to Cory's left and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved. “Hello, Ellie,” he said nervously.
“Hi, Charlie,” she said softly. They stared at one another for a long few seconds before they moved into a clumsy embrace. But once they did, they held on for what seemed to Cory like forever. He watched as his father closed his eyes and savored the feel of Ellen in his arms, and he knew instinctively how his father felt about her. It was a revelation. These two people obviously still loved each other a great deal.
“It is so good to see you,” Ellen said as they finally pulled away.
“You are as pretty as ever,” he replied, staring into her eyes. And Cory felt a bit like an intruder as he watched his mother blush slightly. She glanced nervously at her children and then down at the floor.
Charles pulled his attention away from Ellen and looked at his daughters, who were both watching him as if they were staring at a mythological creature. And in some ways, he supposed they were. “My God, you two are so beautiful,” whispered as he looked from one to the other. And Cory could see his eyes grow moist.
/> “I'm sorry, I can't do this,” Caroline said as she walked away tearfully. Her husband followed after her, and Charles looked hurt.
“I'm sorry,” he said, looking at the others. “This was a mistake; I shouldn't have come. I should go.”
“No,” Cory said firmly, reaching out to touch his arm. “It was not a mistake. I want you here.”
“Please stay,” Cat said softly, still looking at him as if she couldn't believe he really did exist. “Cary will be okay, she just needs a little time. We all do. But please don't go.”
Charles smiled at her. “You are so beautiful, Cathleen. You look so much like your mother,” he said softly.
Cory passed up the customary after-show party that night and spent some time with his family, just hanging out backstage. And when she calmed down, Caroline joined them. It wasn't an easy reunion, to say the least, and everyone's emotions were running high. But it was amicable for the most part. When they all finally stood to leave, Cory took Charles aside.
“I, uh … I don't know about Cary and Cat, but I know Mom will be at the next two shows,” he said quietly. “I hope you will too.”
Charles looked somewhat shocked at his son's words. “Cory, I …” His voice trailed off for a moment as he tried to compose himself. He stared into his son's eyes for a long time before trying again. “Thank you so much. For reaching out to me. I'm not sure that I deserve it.”
“I'm not sure you do either,” Cory admitted. “But Cary and Cat and me … I think we each deserve the chance to decide that for ourselves.”
Charles nodded his head in agreement and reached out his hand for a handshake. Cory glanced at his hand for a second, and then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him.
“Thanks for coming, Dad,” Cory said.
“I didn't think I would ever hear you call me that,” Charles mumbled, breaking down once more as they embraced. “The last time I held you … you were so tiny. I'm sorry, Cory. I'm so sorry I was never there for you, son.”
The Essential Jagged Ivory (Jagged Ivory Boxed Set) Page 30
