“I should have been back a long time ago.”
“You’re back now.” She patted his arm as she walked him to the kitchen.
Thomas sat at the table while his mother poured them each a cup of coffee. He looked around the kitchen. A few of the small artifacts that sat on shelves or hung on the wall, he recognized. They’d been part of his home years and years ago.
Jane turned from the counter and let out a small, nervous laugh.
“I just realized I’ve never prepared a cup of coffee for you. How do you like it?”
“Just black is fine.”
Jane carried the mugs to the table and set them down, then pulled out the chair next to Thomas. She could still see the boy that had been so frightened. The image of him hiding in the closet, bloodied and unconscious, had kept her up nights, and had disturbed her dreams. Now a man sat in the shadow of that little boy. Her little boy.
“Where is your friend?”
“Carissa?” he asked, and she nodded. “Back in Kansas City. She’s home.”
“She seemed like a lovely girl. Just a friend?” She held
on to her coffee mug as she eased into a conversation with
her adult son.
“I’m sure you know she’s very special to me.” He
rolled his mug between his hands. “She’s told me she loves
me.”
Jane sucked in a breath of pride. This woman loved her
son, and what wasn’t there to love? “I could see that she
meant a lot to you, and you to her.”
“Well, we haven’t known each other very long and
quite frankly . . .”
“You’re too afraid you’ll hurt her like your father hurt
all of us.”
He let out a sigh. “Yes.”
Jane put down her mug and placed her hands over her son’s. “The alcohol did that to him. He wasn’t always that
way.”
“It’s the only way I remember him.”
She nodded, understanding that. “We were married
four years before you were born. He was a hardworking
man who had a thirst for success.”
Jane saw his eyes change as he shook his head. She
realized he didn’t know that man. “I know, not the man you
think of when I talk about him that way.” Thomas nodded
and Jane felt the sadness of it down to her stomach. “We
lived just off the lake in a beautiful apartment downtown,”
she reminisced, thinking of their first home together. How
young, happy, and in love they were once. “He showered
me with gifts and he wrote poems.” She smiled at the
thought, and feeling heat in her cheeks, knew she’d
blushed.
Thomas shifted his head and the confused look that
crossed his face had her laughing. “Yes, believe it or not
your talent comes from your father. I have no talent,” she
laughed. “He, at one time, was an amazing person.” Jane released her son’s hands and eased back in her
chair. “When I found out I was pregnant he panicked. He
began withdrawing our savings and investing heavily. I was
young,” she said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t realize
what he was doing. I thought he was just trying to do right
by our pending family.” Her eyes shifted to his. “He lost
everything he’d worked so hard for. We had to move. I had
to get a job, and he began to drink.”
She sat up and drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t
thought about her first husband in years. Not in the way she
was thinking of him now.
Jane noticed her cup was empty. She stood and walked
to the coffee carafe, then carried it to the table and filled
her cup. When she held it out for Thomas, he shook his
head and she put it down on the table.
He was a handsome man, had outgrown the
awkwardness that had only fueled her husband’s disdain for
him. She wanted to help him understand that many things
had contributed to his father’s abusive behavior.
“Things never got easier. He got more run-down and
our family suffered. He hit me for the first time when you
were six. He hit you for the first time shortly after that.”
Guilt rose in her and threatened to strangle her like it had
for years. She should have stopped it then, she knew. Taken
her son and run, but she’d stayed.
When he saw the tears form in his mother’s eyes, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. He’d come to find himself, to reconnect, to get answers. He’d hoped his travels hadn’t hurt his mother more.
“I stopped drinking a little over a year ago,” he admitted. He saw her raise her other hand to her mouth to keep in her sob. “Things had turned and that’s where I turned. Just like him.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and then scrubbed them over his face. “I hurt myself, nearly killed my friend, and destroyed a relationship that meant the world to me. I killed my career. Now my past, my mistakes, holds me back from the woman I love.”
“So you do love her?” When he nodded his response, Jane smiled. “Why should a past mistake hold you back?” “I lost control, Mom. I nearly killed a friend and
myself. What’s to stop me from hurting her physically? Just
by being here I know I’m hurting her.”
“But hearing you talk, I know you’ve learned from
your mistakes.” She reached for him, placing a warm, soft
hand on each side of his face. “We’ve all made mistakes.
We will all make more of them.” She smiled through her
tears. “Look around you.” She dropped her hands. “I’ve
moved on from mine. And trust me, when you lose a child
so violently, it’s hard to move on.”
Jane stood and paced the kitchen. “Oh, Thomas. I lost
so much that night.” She covered her mouth and sobbed. He stood and gathered his mother in his arms and held
her.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “I lost both of my children and my husband that night.
Everything I’d known and loved was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
“Please tell me you’re back in my life.” She looked up
into his eyes. “I can’t lose you again. It was too painful the
first time.”
He held her tighter to him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you
so much.”
“I know, but you’re back now.” She kissed his cheeks. “I should let you get on to bed. Your family needs
you.”
“You are my family,” she reminded him. “Do you
already have a place to stay?”
“I was going to check into a motel. I thought I’d stay a
few days and catch up. I need to decided what I want to do
and I need time to let Carissa simmer. I owe it to her to at
least go back and let her tell me she doesn’t need me in her
life.” He let out a laugh. “My guess is that I’m fired.” “You’re selling her short.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. Maybe he was. She took his hand and led him through the house.
“C’mon, I have something to show you.”
There was a small home office, a washroom, and a
white, six-panel door that closed off another room. Jane stopped in front of the door and looked up at him
before she pushed it open.
His eyes flew open as he stepped over the threshold of
the room. “Oh-my-God.” He let out the breath he was
holding. “These are all my things.
”
Jane nodded as she watched him. This room was a
collection of his and Sarah’s childhood. The material items
that had once been important.
His rocking horse from when he was a toddler and his
Matchbox cars were there. Sarah’s teddy bear and her
princess wand sat in a small rocking chair next to the bed.
His bed.
How many hours had Jane sat in this room and
mourned the children she had lost? The life she had lost. Thomas looked at her again and she smiled a warm,
gentle smile. It had been worth it to her to save their things
so that she’d have them near.
She picked up a doll that sat on the dresser and stroked
its hair. “I brought everything that was yours and Sarah’s
with me. Parker made sure the house we bought would
have an extra room for you when you came back.” She
looked up at him. “And here you are.”
Carissa wandered through her day at the school, exhausted after having stared at the ceiling of her bedroom all night long. The carpet was down in the parents’ area, and the laminate wood floor had been finished in the rest of the school.
She’d opened the door just in time for the shipment of instruments to arrive. Things would be ready for the school to open within a week. It was much further ahead of schedule than they had planned. The thought should have made her happy, but instead the opening of the school and the enrolling of students had tears welling in her eyes.
Carissa fell into one of the parent chairs and stared at the boxes that cluttered the room. She rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands and looked around. There was no desire to tear into them and fondle every instrument. She simply wanted to crawl into the corner and sob.
“Excuse me.” A man’s voice called to her and she snapped her head up. She hadn’t even realized anyone had walked in, and there stood the stranger only feet from her.
She stood and looked him over. He wasn’t tall, but dark and handsome fit the bill. Wavy dark hair covered his head and the shadow of a beard darkened his chin.
“I’m looking for Sophia Burkhalter.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Kendal. I’m looking for Sophia Kendal.”
The accent should have given him away, but it took Carissa a few more moments of careful studying the man to realize who he was.
“You’re Pablo DiAngelo.” Her eyes widened as she let the name roll from her tongue.
“That’s what they tell me,” he said, and his smile winked a dimple in his cheek. “And now we are at a disadvantage. You know me, I do not know you.”
She held out her hand. “I’m Carissa Kendal.”
“Ah, bella!” He bent in and kissed her on one cheek and then the other. “You are a beauty. An absolute beauty!”
A smile finally slid across Carissa’s lips and her tears dried. “Thank you. My mother should be here any moment.”
“Mother. Not a word I associate with my dear Sophia, but I’m sure she wears it well.”
“Yes, she does.”
“So . . .” He scanned the school from where he stood. “What have we here?”
“This is my school.” She swung her hand through the air. “It’ll open in a few weeks. We just received our instrument shipment.” She looked at the boxes that surrounded them. “It’s my chance to pass music to others.”
“Your mother and father are very proud, yes?”
“Yes.” She swallowed back the disappointment that Thomas wasn’t there to see his old friend and show him their pride and joy.
“Oh, my! Pablo?” Sophia’s voice came from the door, and a moment later the gorgeous Italian turned and scooped her into his arms.
“Bella! Oh, my bella!” He set her on her feet and looked her over. “You are happy?”
“Oh, Pablo, I’ve never been happier.” She looked across at Carissa. “You’ve met my beautiful daughter?”
“Si, she’s a beauty.” He took another long look at Carissa and then back to Sophia, who stepped to the side when Hope tugged at her blouse.
“Oh, Pablo, this is my other daughter, Hope.”
Carissa’s little blonde sister looked up at him, and his dimples creased his cheeks. “Hope, it’s so nice to meet the young girl who took this talented woman away from me.”
Hope drew her eyebrows together. “Away from you? I thought my daddy took her away from you.”
“Hope,” Sophia silenced her.
“Yes, he did. Your mother loved him more than she loved me,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice.
“She loves my daddy very much.”
“She always did.” He shifted his eyes back to Sophia.
“Why are you here?” Sophia took his hand and led him to a chair.
“I’m here looking for you.” He rested her hand on his knee and then covered it with his own. He took a deep breath. “We’ve been invited back to the Vatican.”
“Oh, Pablo!” Sophia flew from her seat and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, God! That is wonderful!”
“It’s like the encore performance we never got. I’ve come back for you, bella. Tell me you can come with me. Your husband should be able to handle everything for a few weeks.”
“Oh, Pablo, I can’t.” She sank back into the chair beside him. “I haven’t played seriously for eight years. Oh, you don’t want me.”
“Of course I want you. You’re all I have left.” There was an anger brewing in his eyes. He stood and paced the small area, raking his fingers through his hair. “I need you.”
“But Pierre? Thomas?” she asked, and his face hardened as his brows drew together.
“No! No! Pierre can’t play and Thomas . . .” He threw his hands in the air. “I want only you. If I can’t have you, I walk.”
“Pablo, wait.” She stood and rested her hands on his arms. “I can’t go, but I know someone who can.”
She turned toward Carissa, who stood just a step away, her mouth gaping open.
“Me? Oh, no. He wouldn’t want me.”
“I wouldn’t want her,” he repeated. “I want you.”
“And who do you think has taught her everything?” Sophia raised her brows. “Listen to her play.”
“Mom.”
“Carissa, go get your cello,” she instructed without shifting her eyes from Pablo’s.
Carissa hesitated for a moment then retreated to the back of the school and returned with her instrument.
“Now sit,” Sophia told Pablo and turned to Carissa. “Il mio perso amore.”
Carissa nodded and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then pulled her bow across the strings, letting out the first low note. Pablo straightened in his seat.
Carissa’s body moved into the cello and her mind filled with the music. Her eyes closed and the world fell away. The notes flowed from the instrument as though she were making love with music.
When the last note faded, Carissa lowered her bow and shifted her eyes to her mother, who merely smiled.
Pablo sat quietly and kept his eyes steady on her. He made her nervous. There wasn’t a sign on his face that said he loved or hated the piece she’d played. Then slowly his dimple appeared in his cheek, and his lips spread into an enormous smile.
“You will play the Vatican with me.”
“Me?” Her voice shook with the absurdity of the conversation. “But my school. What about . . .”
“You come.” Pablo stood. “Bella, you will take over the school until she returns. I want her with me.”
Sophia smiled with a nod, batting away what Carissa knew were tears of pride, but she wondered if they were tears of pain as well.
Sophia had wanted to play the Vatican. She’d spent ten years playing with Pablo DiAngelo trying to earn that coveted invitation. It had never come until Sophia had given her heart to David and Carissa. Pablo had come back for Sophia and she’d gone. Had they
played the venue, which had then been canceled, everything in Carissa’s life might have been different.
Carissa felt the pang of guilt pierce her. She’d thanked God for taking away Sophia’s chance to play at the Vatican because it had sent her home and they had become a family. And now, unselfishly, Sophia was giving the opportunity to her to live out. He’d offered the position to Sophia and she’d refused it.
The pang of guilt pierced further into her before she noticed the look in Sophia’s eyes. It was the look of love. Love that she had for Carissa. Just as a mother would, she’d give up her dreams for her daughter and hand them to her to fulfill.
Carissa swallowed hard and fought the tears that stung her eyes. Not only was it a chance to do something new and exciting, a chance to leave Kansas City and the thoughts of Thomas and what might have been, it was a chance to fulfill Sophia’s dream for her.
Still, she wasn’t sure she could do it. She’d never left home before, or the people she loved. Hope needed her and so did her parents. What about Katie? Katie was her responsibility. And what if Thomas came back?
She sucked in a breath. They’d all be there when she got back, wouldn’t they?
They agreed he’d come to the house for dinner and they would discuss everything, but Carissa found that there wasn’t much discussion with Pablo DiAngelo. Either you agreed with him or you simply didn’t speak to the man again.
Pablo filled the dinner discussion with plans he had to carry out the performance.
David reached his hand to Carissa’s and gave it a squeeze as she processed what was being said.
“Carissa, you do what you want,” David interjected.
Carissa could feel her forehead tighten as she drew her brows together sharply. She knew what she wanted to do, she just wasn’t sure she could.
David watched her closely. She knew he could read her thoughts. That’s what fathers did. That’s what her father did.
On a sigh, with a tilt of his head, he said, “But think about the opportunity. It is the one venue your mother always wanted and it’s being offered to you. The school will be here when you return. And it wouldn’t look too bad for the credentials of the teacher to have played the Vatican.”
Carissa sat silently for a moment and contemplated what they’d all said. She’d never played a big venue like Sophia had once been used to. Could she even compete with the talent that would build his ensemble?
ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) Page 16
