by Lee Taylor
Cliff lets out a long whistle. "I told you Zach was up to no good. He came to California looking for you so you can lead him to your father. I can't believe you fell for it."
"You don't know the first thing about Zach." I'm not going to have a discussion about Zach with him. "Where's my plane ticket?"
"Sorry, still working on it." Cliff puts on a baby face, his mouth in a little circle and eyes dolefully round.
"What's taking so long? If it's money, let me have my purse and I'll charge it."
"I have to clear it with your father first." He turns on the road toward the Ping Crest Winery.
"You don't seem to realize my presence is a danger to him. You should get my things and take me to the airport right away."
"Stop hyperventilating." Cliff gives me an annoyed look. "We have everything under control. I told your father you're returning and he wants to have breakfast with you."
"As long as I'm out of here in time for the flight." I stare straight ahead at the winding driveway.
"You worry too much." Cliff whistles and looks me up and down. "Nice outfit. Love that SpongeBob."
"Oh, stop it." I roll my eyes. "I bet you're the one with SpongeBob DVDs in your room."
"Oh yeah? Wanna come to my room and play?"
The comment wasn't even worth a snicker.
We arrive at the grand entrance, and a servant pulls open the door. He doesn't raise his eyebrows at my boyish outfit and bare feet. Cliff hands the car keys to another servant and guides me up the steps with his hand on my back. I feel like I'm back to square one. Great job, Vera!
He opens the door to my suite and follows me in. Fresh flowers and a new water fountain, a mermaid swimming with a dolphin, greet me. Cliff sweeps his hand over it as if he were a host of a game show. "A gift from your father."
"I'm not staying, but I appreciate it." An upwelling of emotion surprises me. He must really care for me to risk having me come back here.
Cliff walks into the bedroom and brings my purse. "Everything's accounted for--your mobile, passport, wallet, makeup, breath mints, birth-control pills--"
I snatch the purse from him. "No one gave you the right to look through it."
He smirks and ducks. "By the way, where's the prepaid mobile? Does Zach have it?"
It takes me a moment to realize he's referring to the cell phone someone sent me, the one with text messages purportedly from my father.
"Why would Zach have it?" Then it dawns on me. "You! I never told you about the prepaid. Was it you sending the messages?"
"Sorry. You told your uncle and he told me." He spreads his hands and shrugs. "You're always blaming me. Isn't that what wives do?"
"Cliff." I refrain from rolling my eyes. "That was lame, even for you. I swear, you'd make a better friend than love interest."
"So you say." His eyebrows do the jiggling caterpillar dance. "Don't forget. We're in this together--you, me, your father, Dex, Ben. Family code of silence. Since you can't marry Dex or Ben, that leaves me."
Interesting. From this angle, he looks mestizo, mixed-race. Could he be the child? My eyes must have narrowed because his face reddens.
"What are you looking at?" He sounds nervous.
Now it's my turn to look mysterious. "Family resemblance. You sure you're not part Filipino? Who are your parents?"
I don't care that I'm nosy. After all, I'm the boss's daughter. I underscore that by lifting my chin slightly, not that it's possible to look down at him since he towers over me.
He pointedly looks at his smartphone, his lips pursed in a thin line. "You don't have much time. Mr. Ping breakfasts at nine-thirty and has a meeting starting ten-fifteen."
I continue my staring. It's actually fun to intimidate him. "Well? Aren't you going to give me some privacy to change?"
The wide grin is back. He raises his phone. "It's a little after nine right now. Snap to it."
Flash!
"You!" I shake my fist. "Erase it now."
"Priceless. This is going on Facebook. Cecelia Ping in a SpongeBob shirt."
"Cecelia Ping?" I grab for the phone but he dodges me.
"Stage name, but I prefer Vera Morelli."
"And you're Vera Obnoxious. Give me that phone." I chase after him, but his long legs take him down the hall fast, and he almost knocks down a frightened maid.
Chapter 20
I sit across a carved rosewood dining table from my father. Everything is decorated in a Chinese style, from the wall paintings to the embroidered seat cushions. The only thing that doesn't look Chinese is my father. His face is as dark as ever with the large brown eyes you see on Russian religious icons. A deep sadness rises in my chest. I can see both my departed brothers, Rey Jr. and Rod, in his features and expressions.
We wait for the servants to retreat. Papa bows his head and says grace. Bile roils in the back of my throat. How genteel and refined he is, with his fingernails trimmed and polished, not a hair out of place, his shirt starched and white. Visions of dark red blotches splattering the shirt, staining and spreading over the white, fill my mind. I mumble "Amen" and lift my head in time to see my father staring hard at me.
"You're as beautiful as your mother," he says. "She's the first woman I loved. Tell me, is she well?"
"She is." I pick at the flat onion pancakes and sesame buns. "Why are we having Chinese food for breakfast?"
What I really want to ask him about is this entire Ping ruse, including my so-called name, Cecelia.
"I like it. It's my new identity." He expertly picks up a strip of jellyfish with a pair of chopsticks.
"Sorry, I don't care where you are, you're still Rey Custodio and you're Pinoy, like the rest of our family."
Papa stirs his congee and slurps it. "Not here. I'm Anson Ping, you're Cecelia, and my sons are Ben and Dex."
I drop the chopsticks. "You've forgotten Rey Jr. and Rodrigo?"
He grimaces. "Of course not. I grieved for them, but a man must move on."
Tears swarm in my eyes, and I fight to control them. The teacup jiggles in my hand; I hastily take a sip. "A man can move on, but not a woman. If Mama knew, you'd break what's left of her heart. Don't you feel even a little bit bad about this?"
"Yes. That's why I want to bring all of you here to live with me. Your mother will not have to struggle to find work. I'll give her an entire wing of this mansion. Louie will have the best medical care, and you? You can do anything you want: sing, paint, travel. I owe it to you and your mother. What do you say?"
He looks expectant, as if he were a god bestowing beneficence on me.
"We have our lives. Mama is happy and there's also my niece, Emily, who has to stay with her legal father. Even though I raised her, we'll never get custody."
My father cracks his knuckles. "That can be arranged. She's my flesh and blood."
I push away from the table and stand. "No. You've done enough damage already."
"Anak, I can't go back and undo things. Sit, and finish breakfast with me."
I sink into the silk cushion but my heart is heavy and my stomach in knots. He slurps the porridge and chews on the buns as if it were the most normal breakfast in history. I can't touch the food. I want to be on the airplane and fly, fly, fly away. But no matter how far I go, I'll never escape the memory of Zach's ocean-blue eyes and what could have been.
"Eat." My father pushes a tray of fried dough sticks in front of me. "Why are you so sad? I'm offering you a home and an inheritance."
"I can't take it. Just can't. You killed a woman, Zach's mother. Why?"
He sets both hands on the table and stops chewing. "I heard what you said in the tunnel. Did you mean it?"
I look him square in the eye. "Yes, I love him--but because of you, I have to leave. They never told him how his mother died."
"He doesn't have to know." My father stirs his congealing porridge.
"This is not something I can live with." I feel like slamming the porridge in his face. "How can you sit there calmly and tell
me it's okay?"
"Because we can't change the past."
"But you can do the right thing, starting now. Turn yourself in, Papa."
"Sorry, it doesn't work that way. You think you can come here, after I've worked so hard to build a life for myself, and tell me to destroy it? For what? So you can claim a gold star with the Spencer family and cling onto that crippled son of theirs?"
I shove my bowl at him and spill it on the tablecloth. "I can't believe I'm sitting across from a murderer. I can't believe you're my father, the one who kissed me good night, tucked me in and read stories to me. You gave me Bing-Bing to hug when you weren't around. You told me you loved me, and now, what's happened to you?"
"Vera!" he snaps, but I tear from the dining room. I push open the double doors and smash into a servant. The tray of fruit scatters across the cream colored rug, but I don't stop. No one intervenes.
Gasping and sobbing, I run into my suite and kick off my heels. My suitcase is tucked in the closet. I remove the floral dress I wore to breakfast and pull on a pair of jeans, running shoes and a lacey cami topped with a chiffon v-neck blouse with sheer long sleeves to battle both the mosquitoes and the summer heat.
Zach's phone is charging on the nightstand where I left it. Who the heck changed his background screen to a picture of Cliff? Aaarrgh!
No time to mess with it. There's a voice message from Maryanne, seven missed calls from an Australian number, probably Aunt Addy's inn and most likely from Zach.
I close my eyes and say a prayer for him. Once everything comes out, he'll understand why I had to leave. If I had known last night that I'd never feel his arms around me again, never kiss his tender lips, never hear his sexy voice . . .
I retrieve the voicemail from Maryanne.
"Vera, what's going on?" she says. "Zach says you're missing. Did you run off, or should he call the police? Call me as soon as you can."
The last thing I need is the police. I recheck my luggage and make sure all of the clothes are where they should be. I don't want a single item from the wardrobe my father provided, not a thread. After packing my toothbrush and makeup, I call Maryanne. She picks up immediately.
"Vera? Zach?" Her voice is more high-pitched than usual.
"It's Vera. Listen, I'm okay. Tell Zach not to worry. Something came up and I have to go home."
"Running from your problems never solves anything. Zach didn't sound like he was angry."
"He will be when he finds out. I can't talk about it right now. I have to call a cab and get out of here before anyone stops me."
"Why would they stop you? Where are you?"
"I can't say. Tell everyone I'm fine. Don't let my mother or anyone worry, please?"
"You're obviously not okay. Zach really cares about you. He's worried sick."
"Tell him . . . tell him it's not him. He's a wonderful man, truly."
"Then why are you leaving? What's so bad that you can't talk to him yourself?"
"He'll grow to hate me."
Maryanne huffs and clucks her tongue. "Because you're throwing him to the curb again? I don't get you."
My heart clenches, and I blink to keep the tears at bay. I love Zach Spencer, but there's no way I can make up for what my father did to his family.
Maryanne continues her tirade. ". . . I mean, God forbid anyone should care about you, Vera. What has Zach ever done except open himself to you, and as for the past, you can't hold it against him. He can't help it if women--"
"Enough. You two have fun talking behind my back. I've got other things to do. Bye." I end the call.
The phone rings as soon as I hang up. It's the same Australian number Zach is using. My hands tremble, but I don't pick it up. Instead, I silence the cell phone and shove it into my purse. I pack my overnight bag and drag everything behind me to the suite door.
Slowly, I open the door, half expecting Cliff to jump out and say "Boo." It's a little after ten o'clock, so he's probably working. I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk confidently down the long paneled corridor.
When I reach the grand staircase, I realize I'll make too much noise clattering my wheeled luggage down one step at a time. Instead, I struggle to pick up my suitcase in one hand and the overnighter in the other.
"Ate, going somewhere?" Ben approaches me with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops.
So, he's calling me Ate, or elder sister, a term of respect. I lift my chin. "I've important business at home. Can you help me with the luggage and drive me to the airport?"
Dex strolls around the corner and rubs his hands. "That's too bad. Can't you stay for the concert?"
Ben opens a manila folder. "We're going to the clubs tonight to put up flyers."
My jaw drops. Benefit concert for Southeast Asian Refugees in Australia, featuring Cecelia Ping, sponsored by Ping Crest Winery, Melbourne, Victoria. There's a picture of me holding a mic, taken during one of the practice sessions.
I grab the folder, scattering some of the flyers. "Are you idiots? You can't put these flyers up. Everyone knows I'm Vera Custodio."
"Not here they don't." Dex calmly picks up the flyers.
"Does Papa know about this?" I leave my luggage and walk toward my father's quarters. "This is so stupid. All they have to do is match my face to my passport."
I have to get this concert stopped, and I'm sure my father will agree.
Ben and Dex follow, mumbling to each other. I hear words like "crazy," "hyper," and "overreacting."
A male servant guards the entry to my father's chamber. I address him, "Where's Mr. Ping? I need to talk to him."
"He's in a conference. I'll let him know, Miss Ping."
"Call her Cece," Ben cuts in.
The servant sends a text message and gestures to me. "Follow me to the reception area."
We walk at a quick pace through the patio into another wing of the house. The furnishings look more formal, with wooden wall panels and leather couches resembling a corporate board room. The servant checks his phone and says, "He'll see you right away. But don't take too long. He has a customer on the line."
Ben and Dex follow me into the foyer in front of the conference room. I draw calming breaths when the tall mahogany door opens.
My father steps out. He takes both of my hands and rubs them. "Anak . . ."
"Papa." I show him a flyer. "Did you know about this?"
His face turns greyish. "Absolutely not. Whose idea is this?"
Cliff comes out of the conference room and glides over. "Ah, the benefit concert. Your picture came out so beautifully."
"Cliff!" Papa says. "Have you put out any flyers?"
"Uh, Ben, Dex, have you?" Cliff passes the buck.
Ben shakes his head and Dex shrugs with his palms up. I could kick Cliff in the nuts for being so slimy.
"So," Cliff says, "no harm done. Vera was the one who gave me the idea for a concert. She suggested that I be her manager and tour with her."
"You! That was a joke." I stomp my foot. "Okay, I'm outta here. Papa," I kiss him, "you understand why I have to go."
"Iha," he kisses me on both cheeks and holds me, not letting go. "You'll understand when you get to Heaven. She'll tell you."
I push away gently. "I want to hear it from you, no matter how bad."
"Some secrets are not mine to tell. Mahal kita, Hun-Hun." After saying he loves me, he wipes his eyes and heads back to the conference room. Something about the finality of it wrenches my heart, but he disappears behind the heavy door before I can call out.
Cliff hovers, torn between having to go back to the meeting and wanting to keep his eye on me. Finally, he says, "Check the flight times and text me when you're ready to go."
"I don't need your help." I give him a sideways glare. "Go back to the meeting, Mr. Estate Manager."
Ben, Dex, and I walk sullenly from the conference area and head back to the main house. Since my phone is barely charged, I pull up a browser on Zach's phone to check for flight times. MEL to SFO. I scro
ll and scroll, but am unable to book a flight for the day. The last one leaves at eleven and it's already half past ten.
"What's wrong?" Dex asks as he opens the door for me.
Ben peers over my shoulder. "Ah, bummer. No more flights today. Hey, let's go clubbing instead. Might as well have some fun."
"Great idea." Dex shakes his shoulders and spins his arms. "There's an electro-dance contest at the Grungy Caterpillar tonight."
"Okay, sure. I should text my mother a few pictures so she won't worry," I say, pointing to a flock of cockatoos flapping their wings on the tree outside.
"We can take lots of bird pictures at the Dandenongs," Ben says. "We can even feed them at Grants Picnic Ground."
Sure, I have nothing to do until tomorrow, and getting to know my half-brothers is a good thing. Maybe they can help me understand what my father went through after he left us.
"Sounds great," I reply. "Let me book my flight home first."
I head upstairs, but when I reach the landing, I notice my suitcases are gone. "Who stole my luggage?"
"The maid must have taken them back to your room," Dex says. "You seriously never had servants?"
I give him a level stare. Spoiled brat. He grins and shuffles. "Shucks, sorry."
My chest is heavy and my throat lumpy. They look like half-Chinese versions of Rey and Rodrigo.
I reach my door. "Give me half an hour."
"Sure thing, Ate," they say in unison.
Watching them swagger down the hallway, I wonder why their mother left and if her name is Cecelia.
Chapter 21
The ticket is expensive. I'll be paying this off for a long time, but I can't leave fast enough. My father's manipulating me with his cryptic words. Secrets not his to tell. I'll bet it's about the baby who would be around twenty-three, roughly the same age as Cliff. Does my father know about Cliff's marriage proposal?
I should have sprung that one on him, but no matter. I'll be gone tomorrow. I'm sure Ben or Dex will take their dear Ate to the airport. I can't help but like them. Such boys, with their silly grins and kung fu poses.
Zach's phone vibrates with an incoming text message. It's from Krista. "Hey stranger, when are we going to get together? I don't have much time between projects."
