She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands, gathering a pool of water. She splashed her face. Her earlier optimism and excitement at the possibilities of the New Year had taken a hit.
She’d always considered her father as good as dead. When she’d asked about him, wanting to know about the other half of herself, her mother had adamantly refused to speak much about him. Her mother could be stubborn. Tasha finally accepted he’d abandoned them and learned to live with his absence.
She tried to wrap her mind around the shocking call.
Could it have been a prank? Or a scammer?
She considered both ideas. But why would someone come from out of nowhere with such a claim? Especially after all these years.
Tasha patted her face dry with a towel. When she felt composed, she left the bathroom.
The aroma of the coffee filled the air. When she entered the living room, she saw Zed had lit candles. Soft R&B music poured from the house speakers.
While his thoughtful gesture touched her, it also had an odd effect. Tasha felt her composure seeping away. His kindness was like the last straw. It broke her.
“Tasha, what’s wrong?”
She tried to speak, but only managed a croak. Fresh tears, like the gentle spray at the start of a storm, rolled down her cheeks.
Zed leaped toward her and wrapped her in his arms. His concern did her in. Sobs racked her body, and Zed held her until she was cried out.
“Wanna talk about it?” he gently asked.
“Can I reheat my coffee first?” She needed time to process the call.
He nodded. “Sure.”
She warmed her coffee and joined him on the living room couch. After drawing in a steadying breath, she told Zed about the odd phone call.
“Oh, wow,” he said.
“Tell me about it. I’m still in shock.”
He studied her closely. “What are you going to do?”
“I promised to call him back.”
His brow contorted. “You don’t think it’s some kind of scam, do you?”
“That did cross my mind. But what if it isn’t? Don’t I owe myself to at least check it out?”
“Tash, that’s your choice to make.”
“What would you do, if you were me?”
He stood and strolled to the crackling fireplace, then stretched his hands to warm them by the fire. “I’d contact him. I mean, it’s possibly half of your DNA. That you know nothing about. You must have been curious all these years.”
She nodded. “I was. But my mom always shut me down when I asked about him. After a while, I just gave up.”
Zed’s jaw tensed. “Do you think what your mom did was fair?”
Tasha instinctively knew he’d posed the inquiry as a question to be diplomatic. She guessed he already had an opinion on the matter.
“Probably not,” she replied. “But when it comes to matters of the heart, things are rarely black-and-white.”
Zed’s head cocked back at her words. “True that.” He rejoined her on the couch. “Can I ask one favor?”
“Sure,” she said.
“If you decide to meet him, I want to go with you. And can you keep me on point about your conversations with him?”
“Zed, you don’t have to do that.” She was touched by his kindness, but hoped he didn’t feel obligated to help her with her family mess.
“You’re right. But I want to. You’re my wife. I made a legal vow to look out for you. And I intend on keeping it. For as long as we’re married.”
Tasha started to argue. However, his stubborn expression stopped her. Was this what a true relationship was like—rock-solid commitment and caring? If so, she needed to steel her heart against being affected by his kindness and concern now, so it wouldn’t hurt so bad when it abruptly ended.
* * *
Zed had stewed on the matter of the stranger’s call until he finally convinced Tasha she should contact the man. She’d done so, and she’d had several conversations with Vincent. She discovered, to her surprise, that he resided in an assisted-living facility on the southeast side of Denver. Though he was in his fifties, fragile health and balance issues had necessitated he live somewhere he had access to 24-7 care. She had finally decided to go visit him.
She was unusually quiet on the drive there. Rather than fill the silence with conversation, he was glad to leave her to her thoughts. Having lost of both his parents, he felt it was important for her to learn more about the man who claimed to be her father, as well as process all the emotions related to the news.
The first thing that hit his nostrils when they walked into Whispering Pines assisted-living facility was the strong smell of bleach. Tasha gazed at him, her expression asking for reassurance.
“I got you,” he whispered.
She finally nodded, and they went to the information desk and asked for directions to Vincent’s room. The receptionist seemed surprised when they mentioned his name. But she quickly hid her reaction and pasted on an obligatory smile.
Zed had the feeling Vincent didn’t get many, if any, visitors.
As they walked down the winding white brick corridor that was bathed in fluorescent light, Tasha repeatedly flexed her hands, a sign, he guessed, that her anxiety was mounting. He understood. This man could be her father and could be a missing piece, the other half of who she was as a person.
He prayed the whole thing wasn’t a scam. But if Vincent was truly her father, it wasn’t going to be an easy road when deep-rooted hurt and myriad other feelings arose, like sediment from an ocean bottom.
They finally arrived at Vincent’s room. Tasha took a deep breath.
He went into the room ahead of her, like a protective shield. “Vincent Taliferro?” he tentatively asked.
“Yes, sirree, that would be me,” a craggy voice answered. A medium-size man sat hunched over in a wheelchair.
Zed shot out a hand. “I’m Zed Evans. And this is my wife, Tasha.”
Zed moved out of the way, unblocking Tasha’s view. When the man saw Tasha, upturned eyes that mirrored her own soaked her in like a sponge.
The sudden violent sobs from the huddled-up man shocked Zed, and he guessed Tasha, too. Vincent’s thin arms, cloaked in a pea green sweater and orange T-shirt, opened wide.
Tasha looked Zed’s way, as if she wasn’t sure what to do. He subtly nodded, directing her toward Vincent.
She headed across the room and gave the gentleman an awkward embrace.
Vincent trembled as Tasha held him. After she released him, Vincent motioned for Zed to approach.
Zed obeyed, giving Vincent a light hug and fist pound, noting the gentleman smelled like a combination of soap, cheap cologne and mint mouthwash.
Upon releasing the man, he joined Tasha, who sat in one of the two dull brown tweed chairs across from Vincent’s bed.
Tears baptized the gentleman’s face.
Zed retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the man.
“Thank you,” Vincent said. “I’m out of tissues.” He wiped his wet cheeks. When he was composed again, he observed Tasha quietly. “I see so much of your mother in you. Not just the physical things, but the sweet spirit that always shined from her eyes.”
A rogue protective thought assaulted Zed at the comment. If her mother was so sweet, why did you abandon them?
“Thank you,” Tasha replied.
“Mr. Taliferro, you can imagine what a shock this has been for my wife to hear from you,” he said.
Vincent nodded. “I can understand that.”
“How did you know my mother?” Tasha asked.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed in apparent curiosity. “She never mentioned me?”
“No,” Tasha replied.
Hurt rolled across the man’s face, as if he’d been punched.
“Although that’s hard to hear, I guess it makes sense,” he finally said. “Violet-Sage’s heart was never really mine.”
Tasha waited for Vincent to explain the curious remark.
“Your mom and I met in grade school. We lived in the same neighborhood. In high school we had algebra class together. I was never good at math and she tutored me. I was good in English lit, which she was not, so I helped her with her writing. We often did our homework at your grandparents’ house. She and my sister, Karen, were friends.” He halted. “I’m guessing you knew her home life wasn’t the best.”
Hearing Vincent’s words, Zed’s heart ached for Tasha and the dysfunction and pain that ran through her family like an errant thread.
Tasha nodded. “Mama talked about her dad being an alcoholic. He was both verbally and physically abusive. But my grandmother, fearful she couldn’t financially make it on her own, stayed with him. Just when she finally could no longer endure his treatment and made plans to leave him, he died of cirrhosis of the liver.”
A woeful look crossed Vincent’s face. “Yes, your mother and grandmother went through a lot. Such a shame. They deserved so much better.” He sighed. “Violet-Sage was my first love,” Vincent continued. “Unfortunately for me, her heart belonged to somebody else. I waited patiently. When her boyfriend broke up with her before going into the military, I made my move. She was vulnerable, and I knew she cared for me. Your mama was so hungry for love. Starving for it, really. And I just happened to be there. I wanted to comfort her and show her how much I loved her.”
Zed contrasted his mother’s starvation for attention from his dad against Vincent’s desire to fill the hole in Tasha’s mother’s heart. If only his father had been like Vincent.
Vincent continued. “We were together one night. I was a senior in high school, about to be a first-generation college student with a basketball scholarship, when she told me she was pregnant. I’m not proud of the fact that I acted immaturely. I could barely take care of myself and I saw my future going down the drain. I was just a kid myself. Although I loved her, I loved myself more and I selfishly chose my future.”
Zed sighed, sorry to learn that Tasha’s dad had been more like his own father than he wished. It was amazing to him the domino effect their decisions had on their children.
“Violet-Sage had every right to cut me off and want to have nothing to do with me. A few years later, through my sister, Karen, I learned that she had the chance to get back with her boyfriend. She wanted to be honest about what happened with me, but when she told him, it ended their relationship. I felt awful.
“After college I found her and offered to marry her. She refused to have anything to do with me. I now realize why she had to cut me off. I think, in addition to my selfish actions, she refused me partly because of what happened with her parents. She told me once that your grandmother married your grandfather not out of love, but out of desperation and fear of being alone. Though she cared for me, she didn’t love me. And because of how her parents’ relationship turned out, I believe she didn’t want to take any chances of repeating history.”
“Did you ever have a family?” Tasha asked.
“I was married. For twenty-nine years. My wife, Miriam, died of cancer six years ago. She wasn’t able to have children.”
“I’m sorry,” Tasha said.
“Me, too, sir,” Zed added.
Vincent dipped his head in apparent acknowledgment of their words. “Thank you both. Miriam was a good woman. We didn’t have the fireworks kind of love that lights up the sky. But we had a solid relationship.”
Zed marveled at Vincent’s almost poetic way of putting things.
Watching Tasha as Vincent began telling some childhood stories, Zed could sense she was overwhelmed. She was probably on system overload and needed to retreat, to process and absorb everything.
He turned to her father.
“Mr. Taliferro, it has been a pleasure to meet you. As you might imagine, this has been a lot for my wife to take in. Can we arrange to meet another time?”
Vincent gave them a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a little more time to absorb this news. Just after my sister told me about your mother’s death a year ago, she mentioned that she’d spoken with Violet before her death and that your mother had made her peace over the past and she’d forgiven me. I struggled with whether I should find you. I knew there was a chance if you knew about me from your mother that you might hate me, and I’d risk rejection. I finally decided it was worth the risk to know you.” He paused. She saw fear flicker in his eyes. “Promise me you will come back, and we won’t lose touch?”
“I promise,” Tasha said.
He thinks she’ll be like her mother and cut him off, too, Zed thought. If only he knew the Tasha that I’ve come to know, the woman who has a heart as huge as Texas. Would it be easy? Probably not. But he guessed Tasha would ultimately come around.
Zed reached in his wallet, took out money and gave it to Vincent. “Stash this for your needs.” He added a friendly wink.
Vincent eagerly took the money. “Much obliged. It will go to good use. Some of my socks have got so many holes in them, somebody said they could pass for sandals.” Vincent chuckled at his own joke. Until his laughter escalated into a coughing frenzy. Zed got him a glass of water before they left.
On the ride home, he decided not to pressure Tasha to talk, in case she didn’t want to. She finally looked his way.
“I always took pride in how tight me and my mother were. I’m sad she kept what happened with my father from me. My feelings are all over the map right now. I grieve for my mother’s lost love, and I’m both sad and angry at Vincent. I’m sorry for his unreciprocated love and the lost time he never got with me. But I know he’s partially to blame for everything, because of his irresponsibility.” She paused and looked out the window at the moving landscape. This time she didn’t turn back to him when she spoke. “What I don’t get is why he didn’t fight to get to know me.”
Zed had a feeling her statement had subtext that went beyond what her father had done, but since he had no answers, he reached out to take her hand and held it to let her know she was not alone.
Chapter Eleven
For the next several days Tasha had a few phone conversations with Vincent, before deciding to visit him again. This time she went alone to have a more intimate conversation with him. Beyond the shock of meeting her father, several new realizations hit her. For one, a whole new world had opened for her. She would be able to put some of the puzzle pieces of her life together.
She was grateful Zed had come with her to meet Vincent. His strength and steady presence had helped her get through the difficult meeting.
What am I going to do when he’s no longer around? Something in her heart pinged. Danger, girl. You’re getting too used to his presence in your life. Anger erupted in her. Lord, what’s wrong with me? Why was I never worthy to have someone like Zed permanently in my life? Why am I always the one standing outside the candy shop pressing my nose against the window, while everybody else gets to go inside?
Vincent—she still felt shy about calling him her father—was alone in the world, as she was. His tiny room in the dingy facility appeared to be sparse and lonely. She had so many questions. How was he able to afford the place? What had his occupation been? She also wanted to know more about his childhood.
She needed to have a long talk with God. In the Bible, He encouraged his children to pour their hearts out to Him. To cast their cares on Him. In the meantime, she needed to sort her feelings about her visit with Vincent. And consider the questions his stories raised about her mother’s life.
As she drove to meet Vincent, Tasha looked up at the sky and imagined beyond the stars and planets, to heaven. “Lord, thank You for bringing Vincent—my father—into my life. Although this is a shock, I know You’ve got me. Let me be a blessing to h
im.” Maybe God wanted Vincent to be a blessing to her, as well.
Grateful for thin traffic, she enjoyed the peaceful ride to her father’s facility. She made good time, which was great because her curiosity about her mother’s love life was now practically eating her up. Tasha whipped her Mini Cooper into the assisted-living facility parking lot. She hopped out of the car and was halfway to the front door when she realized she’d forgotten the things she’d brought for him.
Returning to the vehicle, she got her shopping bag filled with puzzle books, Mallomars cookies, peanut butter and Ritz crackers, and strawberry Twizzlers. Her father had mentioned these were some of his favorite things in their recent phone conversation.
Although she knew she should have strongly cautioned him against the junk food, these small things brought him happiness. She decided to give the candy to the nurses to parse out to her father, so he didn’t go overboard on the sweets.
She found him sitting watching old I Love Lucy reruns. Like father, like daughter, she realized with a small amount of pleasure. When she entered the room, his saddle-brown face, with deep-grooved wrinkles, lit up.
“Hi,” she said shyly. She still hadn’t been able to call him Father yet.
“Love Nugget,” he cried affectionately. She’d learned, from hearing him speak about the nurses and techs, that he liked giving acquaintances nicknames.
“I brought you some things.” She handed him the bag she’d brought.
He surveyed his loot, a grin curving his full lips. “Thank you, darlin’.”
She sat across from him and his attention momentarily returned to the TV show. They both laughed at Lucy’s wild antics.
Tasha considered how to bring up the subject of her mother’s love life. She cleared her throat several times. “Vincent, may I ask you a question about my mother?”
He looked her way and paused. Tasha wondered if it bothered him that she still called him by his name.
“Sure. Ask away.”
Claiming His Christmas Inheritance Page 13
