Slightly Imperfect

by Tomlinson, Dar

  "I do see. We'll do it here."

  Placated, his father nodded, declaring each of them winners.

  "We'll build a room on the back of the house big enough for you and Mama to share. We'll get one of those beds we talked about. Hydraulic," he said as an aside to Luke. "A pool and a whirlpool, Papa. We'll hire a therapist to live in, and we'll get a van with a lift on it so you can go out when you like. We'll hire someone to help Mama so the girls won't have to bring dinner anymore. We can do everything here we could do at Carron's house—my house."

  Everything but banish the gulf Carron had created between father and son. Everything but reap concentrated time together. He tried to feel grateful for the concession. The rest might come in time. "You've made me happy, Papa. Luke too."

  Luke kept grinning, even if a bit stingily.

  "Starting tomorrow, I'll look for that boat I promised you. Everything is going to be great." He tapped his beer can against Luke's. "God is good!"

  * * *

  Zac left the dance floor with his sister Carmen, returning her to her husband and then joined Luke where he stood near by observing the dancers.

  "Do you know that woman, Zac? She's staring at you."

  Wiping his wet brow on his forearm, Zac turned, squinting into the sun, following Luke's gaze. He pulled his foot back, too late to escape his nephews tromping it as they raced by in their haste to savor every moment of Cinco de Mayo.

  "Yeah. I know her." Mentally extricating himself from the center of his boisterous family, Zac projected backward to a soft spring afternoon in an Italian piazza. He pulled back to the present, focusing attention on the blond woman. She shone pristine amid exotic surroundings, contrasting the dark child with her. "I met her in Portofino."

  Luke's gaze quickened. "And the kid?"

  Zac nodded.

  "You called me from there," Luke mused.

  Zac nodded again and smiled, lowering his eyes to remind Luke of their father parked before them in the steel chair. Eyes wistful, Alejandro watched the dancers, Angel on his lap.

  Luke grinned, lowering his voice accordingly. "What's the story, Zaccie?"

  "No story," he said quietly. "Take care of Papa, will you?"

  Victoria leaned down to speak to the boy as Zac approached. A smile commanded Marcus's small, handsome face as his arm shot Zac a wave. Zac waved back, weaving through the crowd to stand before them. A magnet-like sensation drew his hand to the small head of jet- hued, curly hair, the coarse texture filling him with sadly familiar pleasure. He knelt, eyes on the woman for a moment, then on Marcus.

  "Do you remember me, Marcus? Zac Abriendo."

  "Sí, señor."

  The Anglo accent made Zac smile. He tried to best the loud music. "It's Cinco de Mayo. Having fun?"

  Marcus nodded vigorously, dark eyes shining.

  Zac wondered what kind of fun he could be having, clinging to his mother's hand, watching. When Zac stood, she tilted her head and looked into his face.

  "Hey, Victoria."

  "Zac." Her voice and smile were as soft as he remembered. "This is wonderful. I hoped you would be here."

  "You must have forgotten my name, or you could have called and made sure."

  She kept smiling as she shook her head. "I've been getting settled. You look wonderful."

  Yeah. No beard, no ponytail, a few added pounds.

  As though reluctantly, her gaze went to the horde of people clustered together watching children break piñatas. "Is that your family—are you glad to be home?" She hadn't lost her disjointed speech pattern, the one that kept him hanging on.

  He nodded, his gaze chasing hers, then returning to her face.

  "They're a large group," she said. Wistfully, he thought.

  "Latinos are prolific. Where are the twins?"

  "They're coming later. They tire so easily... it wouldn't be fair to Marcus."

  Her hands stole to the sides of the boy's dark neck, down the front of his chest. He saw her pull him tightly against the fronts of her thighs. Marcus looked up into her face, smiling, and longing hit Zac like a run away semi rig.

  "Can I take him?"

  Her jade eyes rested on him dubiously.

  "You come, too. He can break a piñata."

  "He's too small. He'll be trampled."

  "I'll take care of him. Come on. He'll miss it."

  Forgoing further coaxing, he took their hands, led them across a dance floor crowded with gyrating bodies and hoisted Marcus up. Feeling Victoria's close, anxious presence behind him, he signaled to the man wearing a sombrero who seemed to be in charge. Zac moved the child to his shoulders and grasped the tiny, bare legs at the ankles, felt the boy's hands go under his chin, hanging on. Zac looked up.

  "Take the stick, Marcus, and hit the donkey. Hit it hard. It's full of candy."

  Marcus took the stick, swung mightily, making no dent.

  "Again," Zac encouraged, prepared to stay for eternity. He felt Victoria's anxiety. "Bang hell out of it, hombre."

  Marcus swung again, and the donkey tore, swaying crazily.

  Zac followed the sway and felt Victoria move with him. "Again, niño."

  Marcus flailed as Zac fought for their balance. Victoria caught his elbow, helping. The papier-mache donkey broke. Candy dumped and children cheered, rushing forward. Zac sank to his knees, wedged Marcus through a forest of legs and into the center of the fracas, guarding him with his body. Hearing Victoria's intake of breath, he managed a reassuring smile for her as Marcus's tiny hands splayed, cupping over the colorful cellophane-wrapped spoils of victory.

  "Thank you, Zac," she said as they walked away, Zac's hand resting loosely on Marcus's shoulder, guiding him through the crowd. "You're very kind."

  "Not really. I like candy, but I'm too old to break piñatas." He smiled, popping a peppermint into his mouth, handing her one. Trumpets blasted their ears. "Wait here," he shouted. "I'll find someone to dance with him."

  She looked doubtful again, but he didn't give her time to protest. Locating a niece of Marcus's approximate size, Zac led them to the dance floor, propelled them once and left them to rejoin Victoria. They eased back from the raucous music and watched in silence for a while.

  "Is Cinco de Mayo part of his cultural crash course?" He kept his eyes on the crowd.

  "Yes."

  He observed her moist brow, perspiration beading just above abundant lips, a white sundress baring shoulders the shade and consistency of honey. Lowering his gaze, he took in white and gold sandals, mocha flavored nail polish competing with sandy earth. He eyed the vibrant crowd, the swirling many-layered, multi-colored dresses, dark hair, skin, and was jolted by the contrast. Victoria Chandler Michaels might be an adventuress after all.

  "You were serious then, about the culture indoctrination?" He measured her. "The one we talked about—"

  "In Portofino. I was very serious," she said quietly.

  "Is that what you've been doing since you've been home?"

  "Among other things. I had a lot of unpacking—things to go to storage."

  He waited.

  "We're at the hotel. The Valdez. It belongs to Marcus now. We live... on top."

  "I run right by there every morning."

  "Really?"

  He might have told her it was raining gold. Her eyes widened, brows lifted, smile dazzling. "Why don't you stop by? We could have coffee—the children would love to see you. Just take the express elevator to the seventh floor."

  "At five in the morning? Sweaty? Smelly?"

  "Oh."

  They both laughed.

  "What about you? Are you living in Ramona?" Her eyes stole to his bare ring finger before her gaze strayed to his family. "Do you have a wife in that crowd?" She smiled tentatively.

  "Yeah, I do. An ex-wife." The word was hard to form. Harder to believe. "The short, pretty one in the yellow dress. That's my daughter, Angel, there on that man's lap." He watched Victoria's brow crease, lips forming an O she never spoke. Finally she smiled a
gain. "I'm living in Ramona and damn glad to be here," he said.

  "And what do you do? Once you're through running?"

  Marcus and Zac's niece, Estella, were laughing, stomping, twirling. Zac felt better, remembering the coveting look on Marcus's face when he'd stood on the sidelines.

  "Zac?" She drew him back.

  "I bought an old shrimp boat—really old. I've spent the last month restoring it. It's almost ready to earn its keep."

  "Where do you dock it?" She watched the children, too, with a kind of vague smile, as though part of her was detached, out there with her son. "What's the name of your boat?"

  "I have a slip at the marina in the shrimp basin. I'm calling it the Ramona Tres."

  "Is that significant?"

  "Very," he murmured. "Do you have another cousin?"

  Her eyes followed his gaze. A large blond man stood on the edge of the crowd across the dance floor, a twin's hand in each of his.

  "A cousin other than Coby?" Zac prompted. "A twin brother, maybe?"

  Quietly, she said, "That's Christian."

  He looked at her quickly, jarred by the stunning resemblance.

  "I know," she half whispered, her smile tensing as the twins spotted her and strained against their father's hold. "It's very complicated. I'd like to tell you the story someday."

  He'd like to hear. "Go ahead over," he suggested. "I'll retrieve Marcus and bring him when the music stops."

  "Thank you."

  She arched her body back and upward and surprised him by kissing his cheek. He caught her shoulders, then his hands circled her waist in reflex before he dropped his arms as though she were molten steel. Her smile instigated a conspiracy. "I don't think five o'clock is too early." Stepping back, she said. "Sweat wouldn't bother us."

  Moments later when he stood before Victoria and her family, Marcus in tow, Angel on Zac's arm now, she said, "Christian, this is Zac Abriendo, and his daughter—" She faltered, searched.

  "My daughter Angel."

  "Zac and I met in Portofino."

  Recall flared in Christian's crystal-blue eyes.

  Alexander wrapped his arms around Zac's knee. Ariana strained toward him, leaning forward from her father's arms. Zac reached hesitantly to add her to Angel. Her arm clasped his neck. One hand patted his face and then Angel's. Cream on bronze. His stomach knotted with a hated sense of inferiority. Awkwardly, he managed to shake hands with Christian, then lowered his hand to caress Alex's blond head. Victoria's hand stole to Angel's leg, lingered, stole back.

  Zac's eyes locked with Victoria's, pulled away.

  "Portofino was a real coincidence wasn't it?" Christian's voice was pleasantly deep, professionally cultured. He had tolerant eyes.

  "Fate," Zac said. He and Victoria stole momentary glances before she lowered hers to Marcus, drawing him close. Zac wondered if she still considered their meeting bad fate. "It was a real pleasure finding them so far from home. You have a beautiful family." Glancing beyond Victoria's shoulder, he attempted to look abashed. "I think my own family feels deserted." He passed Ariana back to Christian and felt slightly empty. "Nice to meet you, Christian. Great to see you, Victoria." He smiled his best smile, adding a dose of finality. "Goodbye, Marcus."

  "Zac..." " Her petition rang distinct.

  "I have to go, Victoria." He dared to directly meet her eyes. "Have fun."

  As he walked away, he willed their perfect blond images from his mind, reminding himself of his travesty with Carron. Alejandro's imminent disapproval of any further association with Victoria propelled Zac back to steadier ground.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Looks like we got company, Mr. Zac," Josh announced as the Ramona Tres, still in deep water, approached the dock.

  Zac turned, his gaze going to the shore. Even squinting into the distance and late afternoon glare, he easily made out Victoria and the children, along with a young black girl, waiting on the pier. He had sensed Victoria's presence the moment Josh spoke.

  The images sharpened as the little shrimper drew nearer to the dock. Marcus waved.

  Zac felt reprieved. He had spent the week, since Cinco de Mayo, rationalizing the infeasibilities surrounding Marcus. He'd even considered calling an adoption agency just to ask questions. Victoria's ability to adopt Marcus, seemingly without a hitch, made Zac think the process couldn't be too difficult. And Carron's money would probably help. Another little boy just like Marcus had to be out there—well maybe not just like Marcus. He was special. It had taken only an instant in an Italian piazza to see that, but God knew the desire of Zac's heart, and He would come through. All Zac had to do was uphold his end of his new bargain with God. Not step over any ambiguous lines, not hurt anyone. Ever again.

  However, Christian's obvious absence in the little welcoming party represented ambiguous lines.

  Cutting the engine back, he gave himself time to re-think how Christian had suffered in the scandal involving Victoria and Tomas Cordera. He took time to reiterate how he had trashed the sanctity of his own marriage by failing to keep his priorities in line. Mistakes of that vein didn't bear repeating.

  He watched Marcus wrench his hand from Victoria's, edge dangerously near the edge of the old wooden dock in his eagerness. Zac waved reassuringly to him. Propriety could easily be maintained by remembering Marcus was the priority in this situation.

  Nevertheless, the circumstances took on an enigmatic shape.

  "Hello," Victoria called the moment they were in hearing range. "We thought this was your slip."

  Wondering how she had known, he killed the engine, hoping to drift straight in, hoping not to miss anything else she might have to say. Caught off guard, Josh leaped around, hustling bumpers into place.

  Just as the Ramona Tres whacked solidly into the dock. She exclaimed, "Your boat is wonderful."

  For sure, she knew nothing about shrimp boats.

  Zac reached for a nearby T-shirt, jerked it over his head and looked around for his clogs, coming up void. He hopped over the side, wrapped a mooring line around a steel cleat and approached them. CONTRAST flashed in his mind like a garish neon sign, when he observed Victoria, Ariana and Alexander. Seeing Marcus aligned with them was like gazing into a cracked mirror.

  "Don't you have anything better to do with your Sunday afternoons, Victoria?" He tempered his chastisement with a smile.

  The hot, humid dock and the smell of fish had never been so prevalent in his consciousness. He glanced down the way to where the Irish Lady tossed gently in the shrimper's wake. Today's reception party was definitely more suited to the yacht.

  He spoke to Marcus. "Qué pasa, hombre."

  Marcus seized his proffered hand and pumped it, looking anxiously to Victoria who nodded encouragement. "Buenos tardes, señor." His accent hadn't improved. He paused before stumbling over, "Cómo está usted?"

  "Muy bién! Fantástico!"

  "We've been watching the educational channel," Victoria offered. "He wanted to surprise you."

  "He succeeded." Zac sank to his bare knees in front of Ariana. Alexander's hand was clasped tightly in that of the black teen-aged girl. Taking off his gloves, Zac touched the back of his fingers to Ariana's velvety, honey-hued cheek. "Ariana," he rolled the name softly off his tongue with Spanish inflection. "I'm glad to see you."

  She broke into a smile, blue eyes crinkling.

  After meeting Christian, Zac knew the origin of the crystal blue eyes. He swiveled, still on his knees and held his hand out to Alex. "I'll watch him," he said quietly to the black girl. "Alex. Come say hi."

  With exaggerated care, the girl delivered Alex into Zac's waiting hands, then stepped back. He concluded there was always one child in any crowd who bore watching.

  "Do you like boats, Alex?"

  His pale head bobbed.

  Zac glanced up at Victoria. "Is it all right if they go on board?" >

  "I'd rather—" She checked herself, smiling.

  "Josh," Zac called to the busy figure at the back of the
craft. Josh started toward them. Zac addressed the girl. "I'm Zac. Let me help you on, and I'll hand them to you."

  She, too, got her cue from Victoria. Evidently, Victoria ran her own tight ship.

  Zac lifted the girl over the side to capable waiting hands. "This is Josh," he said to the little gathering.

  "This is Lizbett," Victoria supplied.

  Lizbett's smile flashed a row of perfect teeth. A head full of intricate cornrows bounced jauntily.

  "Watch them closely," Victoria cautioned Lizbett as Zac lifted Marcus first and then the twins.

  "Show them the boat. Don't let them get dirty or jump in," Zac instructed Josh, who had broken out in a sudden rash of grins. Zac faced Victoria as the group moved out of hearing. "Your turn. How'd you find us?"

  "I remembered the name of your boat. We were out for a ferry ride last night, so we drove by the dock and spotted it."

  Memory of Carron wafted tenderly through his mind, of her standing in almost this same spot that first time. Of all the hell that came after.

  "The children do love boats. They miss the Andrea Elena, I'm afraid." Her jade eyes kept straying to the deck activity, making Zac think of a mother bear and cubs. "We hoped you might be free for an early dinner," she said.

  Mental unrest persisted. "What did you have in mind?"

  "The Oyster House?" The exclusive restaurant on the water's edge, just across the parking lot.

  Looking down at his faded shirt, frayed cut-offs and bare feet, he smiled apologetically.

  Her smile was soft. "Taco Bell, maybe—or the twins love Long John Silver's."

  "Where's Christian?" His need to know asserted itself above subtlety.

  Her smile died, making him wish he had been more tactful. "On his way to Baku. Maybe he's there now."

  Zac struggled to quiet a reaction he couldn't label.

  "We're divorced. He was only here to see the children... and to sign the divorce agreement."